Patience through Enema

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

*****

Author's Note:

Mistress Pepper and Sophie are "anonymized" versions of me and my slave-girl. The real me. All of my stories are (or should I say will be) my memories of a session with a sub. Thus, they are true stories. Only in this version details have been changed to protect the sub. I do live in Mobile about 10 months of the year (the remaining two I spend in Nizhny Novgorod, Russia, where my father is from and lives), and almost all of my subs live in Mobile or a bordering county. I'm originally from Baldwin County, next door to Mobile. I moved across the bay to attend USA. As is/did Mistress Pepper. But I'm not a blond. And you'll most definitely have to guess at my bra size!

And remember, the names and such have been changed in this version to protect the slutty. Only Princess Lilly appears as herself. But she truly has no concept of shame.

Session Date:

03 June, 2020

This Story Released:

29 September, 2020

Patience Through Enema

Prologue:

In case this is the first of my stories you've read, there are a few things I've skipped over in this story since there are several other stories I've written about this same sub. I tend to write a story after almost all of my sessions with my toys. But I publish very few of them online.

My name is Pepper Rodgers. I'm a 19-year-old Domme, living downtown Mobile, Alabama. I have a decently well-stocked playroom in the second bedroom of my fourth-floor apartment (most of my neighbors are corporate types who aren't always around, giving me a lot of privacy, even in the halls and elevators). I also have a decently stocked toybox. I prefer my toys to be older than I am, around 30-42 years old. I prefer men for myself, however not for my toybox. When it comes to toys, I find women and couples to be far more amusing. Single men tend to be needier, and often too clingy. But that doesn't mean I don't have a few of them in my toybox. I do. They just don't have the same chances of getting there as couples and single women do.

I'm petite. Actually more "tiny" that petite. I'm 5' 1.75" and 91 pounds. I'm not bony, though, I've curvy, like a small-sized woman. I have blond hair down to my shoulders and blue eyes. Oh, and my chest is the only place I'm not small. I'm a 32-D, and I'm very pert. Which makes me popular with the boys.

I'm also slightly bisexual. I'm attracted to men, not women. I would never choose a female partner for even a date, let alone for sex. But I'm not opposed to masturbating with a female toy. Sophie happens to be my favorite sex toy to pleasure myself with. Her tongue has two big advantages over my vibrator: one, it's very delicate and tender. Two, no matter how much I use it, its batteries never die at the worst possible moment! It's better than fresh bunny batteries, it just keeps going until I want it to stop. And I don't even have to hold it in place!

When I want sex I never use one of my toys. I never allow a toy touch, or even see, all of me. And I never bring a toy to my bedroom. Nor do I chose a woman. I pick a man, usually one I find in a club or cafe, or wherever. I flirt, dance dirty a little and if he meets my standards, I ask if he's interested in a one-time-only, no-names-exchanged, hook-up. I've never been turned down.

I have a few standards for my hook-ups. I never pick a guy I know or even just see around. And I insist on a cock between 7 and 9" long and 1.5" across, plus or minus a small bit. I won't touch a guy who isn't circumcised, either. I hate the way the foreskin feels inside me. I want to feel that fat head. The dirty dancing gives me plenty of time to tease a guy hard and feel for myself what he's got. It's the only way not to be disappointed. Guys always lie about their equipment!

Sophie is my 19-year-old live-in slave-girl. She's slightly petite at 5'4" and 119 pounds. She's pretty, too, with long honey-blond hair, green eyes, and a 34-B chest. Sophie is extremely devoted to me. So devoted, and so happy as my slave, that despite not being attracted to women, she's a virgin with men. She serves and pleasures only me, and those I give her to. And while I use her, even with my male toys, I won't allow any man to touch her pussy or penetrate her bottom. Those are mine. Only mine. I've owned her since she graduated high school, but I've known her longer. Since about two months after her 18th birthday, which was also about two months before she finished high school.

I have three BFFs, (Isabelle, Reagan, and Ellie) none of whom are into my little games. But all of whom occasionally creep into my stories. After all, they are my BFFs so they tend to be around. Luckily they're not offended by anything they happen to see. They're just not eager for me to put on a show on their account.

I also have a circle of five other women friends, all of whom are Dommes as well. Andrea (26), Janelle (35), Colette (39), Diane (43), and Olive (44). we usually get together every couple of weeks for coffee and a little chat about who's doing what to whom lately. We sometimes share, or loan, our toys to each other, but not that often. Sometimes we do a favor for each other, such as providing something different for a toy. Mostly we do what girls do: we gossip.

Chapter 01: Choosing

It started about three weeks ago. My BFF#1, Izzy, came to me and told me that another girl in her class had been asking about me. Everyday. She clearly wanted to talk to me, but she definitely did not want to tell Izzy why. Izzy knows me as well as I know myself. We're that close and have been since the day Izzy was born. Izzy assumed that the girl wanted to play.

I was less sure. Then again, Izzy doesn't play at all, so she doesn't really know how to read subs. Usually, when a girl wants to play, she asks about meeting with me, not simply talking to me. But there are no hard rules. And it's amazingly hard to guess and read someone I've never laid eyes on.

I told Izzy that I wasn't interested in talking to her, not unless she'd tell Izzy what she wanted to talk about. If she wouldn't go that far, then I wasn't interested. I asked Izzy to tell her that directly. And Izzy did.

I know. Izzy called me two minutes after she told the girl. The girl spent five long minutes swearing Izzy to secrecy and begging Izzy to never tell anyone. Ever. Then she told Izzy that it wasn't her that wanted to "talk" to me so much. It was more about her mom. Her mom had seen one of the flyers for my "dominatrix supervised study sessions" that have gotten somewhat infamous around town. Famous for the good grades students get, infamous for my methods. Methods that are ten times as much embellishment as fact.

Her mom inferred that I was a Domme. Like, duh. And she remembered her daughter mentioning that she knew someone who knew me really well. Her mom spent a couple of weeks constantly dropping hints. She's always wanted to meet a "real-life" Domme. She never has. But she wants to. She just doesn't want her husband, the girl's step-father to know anything about it.

Her daughter must be a good daughter. She started pestering Izzy. Now, she tells Izzy only that it's her mom who's dying to meet me. She says she doesn't know what her mom wants and don't demand to know because there's no way her mom is going to tell her any specifics. Which is fine by her. She'd prefer not to hear those specifics.

Izzy passes it all along to me. I think about it for a few days. Mostly because I already know, whatever happens, this woman will be a short-lived toy. I imagine her fulfilling some of those fantasies, and then moving on. I know I have no interest in her. But the girl has helped Izzy a lot in her classes. And Izzy likes to repay favors. There's not much I wouldn't do for Izzy, either.

I decide why not? I'll just have a little fun with this woman and see where it goes. I ask Izzy what she knows about their schedules, and come up with Wednesday morning. I don't have any classes. The girl doesn't have any before noon, and since I'm doing this "for" the girl, I want her to know it happens. I figure her husband as left for work by nine, so at nine Izzy calls the girl and delivers my message. "Your mom is allowed to call Miss Rodgers for the next five minutes. If she's late, she shouldn't bother." I can imagine Izzy giggling as she delivers it.

It must get to the girl's mother very quickly. The woman calls me at three minutes past nine. When Sophie, my live-in slave-girl answers my phone, the woman introduces herself as "Patty" and tells Sophie that "she was told she was allowed to call me now." Sophie makes her hold a minute or two while she freshens up my morning coffee.

I sigh. "Patricia, Why do I think you are hiding in your room behind a closed door? Are you ashamed of me?"

"No... I just wanted a little privacy..." She answers.

"Bad girl!" I snap. "Don't you know your place? Have you no manners at all? Next time you're so rude, I'll hang up on you!" I don't raise my voice, just change my tone to a hard and firm one. A tone that leaves no doubt I'm in charge and I'm giving orders, not requests. "A polite little bitch would answer 'no, Ma'am.' Are you a polite little bitch?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Patricia answers.

"Good bitch," I tell her in a sweet voice. "Now stop hiding. Go sit in the living room. In fact, since you're not ashamed of me, you will introduce me to your daughter. Let me say hello to her. Now."

Nothing like a little embarrassment to start things off. Patricia got the message and my number from her daughter two minutes ago. Her daughter is a smart girl. She doesn't have to ask to know who her mom is talking to. And Patricia knows that. But silently knowing it one thing. Having to come out and openly tell her daughter is quite another. It ensures that she can't pretend the girl doesn't know.

It takes her a minute to find the girl. Then, in a rather hushed, and slightly squeaky voice, I hear her say "Jenna... Miss Rodgers would like to say hello to you..." I imagine her hold the phone out.

"Hey, ya." Jenna greets me.

"Hey, girl." I greet her very politely. "I hope I'm not interrupting. I just wanted to thank you. You know Izzy is my BFF, and I know you've been a lot of help to her in Economics."

"No prob. I like Izzy, too. Thanks for talking to my mom..."

"My pleasure." It's enough to let Jenna know I'm doing it because she's Izzy's friend. "Would you mind doing something for your mom? It's going to make her a little more uncomfortable, which is what she needs. I want her to sit still, with her legs crossed and her hands in her lap. She has to stay like that. No moving at all. Sit with her, and tell her to politely answer your questions."

"Uh, sure." Jenna doesn't sound thrilled, but she doesn't sound like she minds it too much, either. In fact, she sounds like a petulant teenager asked to do something by a parent. Except Jenna isn't a teenager. She's 21, or so Izzy told me. I hear her give her mom the message. A moment later Jenna tells me "OK, Mom's sitting like you wanted."

"Great. Let's start with a simple question. Ask her how old she is. I know you already know the answer, but ask her." Women hate telling others our age, especially the older they get. But it will be easy for Patricia to answer. She knows Jenna already knows. "And if you don't mind, call her Patricia, not Patty, and especially not mom."

"Patricia, how old are you?" Jenna asks with plenty of that obnoxious petulance in her voice.

"48..." I can dimly hear Patty answer Jenna. A second later I hear Jenna tell me "she's 48."

"And very rude!" I giggle. "Scold her. Tell her that's a rude answer. A polite answer would be 'I'm 48 years old, Ma'am.' or 'I'm 48 years old, Miss Tyler.' Ask her again and tell her to answer you politely. After all, you are doing this for her, a little respect isn't too much, is it?"

"Patricia. That's like so totally rude of you!" I hear Jenna tell her. Now Jenna has equal amounts of that petulance and a giggle in her voice. I guess she likes the idea of scolding her mom. A moment later, after Jenna's instructions, I hear Patty answer again. "I am 48 years old, Miss Tyler." And I can hear a little more of the hushed squeak in Patty's voice.

The next question I have Jenna ask her is "What do you wear in bed, or do you sleep naked like a proper slutty bitch?" Jenna sounds a touch embarrassed herself as she asks. I hear Patty politely answer "I wear a nightgown and panties to bed, Miss Tyler." Then, as I have Jenna tell her "prissy bitch," I hear Jenna giggling.

I have Jenna ask her how many lovers she's had. Patty, a lot of shyness and embarrassment in her voice, tells Jenna: eight. The follow-up question tells Jenna all eight were male.

I have Jenna ask when was the last time Patty's "naughty bottom" had a good spanking. Patty tells her never. At least not since she was a little girl, and that was so long ago she doesn't remember it.

Now that I've properly embarrassed Patty, I ask Jenna about her. I ask if Patty has been bothering her for an introduction. Jenna tells me that not a day goes by that Patty doesn't have some question about me, something she "wonders" if Jenna has heard. Mostly it's about my toys. Do I have female toys? Do I have "older" toys? Has she heard any stories about what I've done with a toy? Jenna has told her what she's heard, adding that it's all rumor and likely wrong. She knows I have female toys. Everyone has heard of Sophie, my live-in slave-girl. She's heard about male toys and heard that I "hang" with a lot of frat boys. She's guessed I'm bi. She's heard, no closer than fourth-hand, that I have older toys.

I tell Jenna to scold Patty for "pestering" her. Jenna giggles prolifically as she does, following my suggested wording almost exactly. "Patricia, you've been a very naughty little bitch by bugging me so much about Miss Rodgers. That was very inconsiderate of you."

"I'm sorry, Miss Tyler," Patty tells her, her voice hushed and squeaky with embarrassment. "I won't do it again."

"No, you won't!" Jenna giggles so hard that it's difficult to make out her words. "Miss Rodgers says you deserve to be punished for being a nagging bitch. You know better!"

"Yes, Miss Tyler," Patty answers, her voice utter embarrassment. "May I please ask what my punishment is?"

"Miss Rodgers hasn't decided yet. Your punishment will be appropriate for that slutty butt of yours. Are you ready to go to Miss Rodgers' house and get your punishment, bitch?"

"Yes, Miss Tyler," Patty answers in a very hushed and shamed voice that says more than her words. It says she's excited to come over. And humiliated to think about Jenna knowing what she's about to do. And desperate enough that she's unwilling to take even a chance of losing out on the chance to come here.

I ask Jenna if she's willing to "do her mom a favor" and bring her over here for her punishment. Jenna reluctantly says she'll do it. Her tone adds that she's doing it out of equal parts of kindness for her mom and curiosity about me.

So I give Jenna some specific instructions. She's not to allow Patty to do anything. If Patty does anything, no matter how little, that's not on my instruction list, then she's not to bring Patty here. First, she's to ask Patty to describe her underwear. Both her bra and panties. A general description, even just "lacy white" is fine. Just enough so that I know Patty hasn't changed them. Then she's to have Patty take off everything except her bra, panties, blouses, slacks, socks, and shoes. And she's to have Patty wash her makeup off. Next Jenna is to tie Patty's hands behind her. Then she's to walk Patty to my door. She's never to take her eyes off of Patty, not even for a second. She may warn Patty that Patty will pay dearly if she doesn't follow Jenna's instructions exactly, too.

Jenna gets my address. Following my instructions, Jenna asks Patty "If I take you to get the punishment that slutty butt deserves, are you going to be a very good bitch for me, Patricia?"

"Yes, Miss Tyler," Patty says in her squeaky, embarrassed voice.

"Promise me." Jenna giggles. I'd asked her to say it firmly, but she can't seem to manage it.

"I promise to be a very good bitch if you'll take me to get my punishment, Miss Tyler."

Jenna hangs up, telling me she's about fifteen minutes away, so she should be over in 30 to 45 minutes. I immediately call Izzy and tell her that Jenna is bringing her mom over for a quick lesson. I ask if Izzy is interested in joining me for coffee and an apology from Patty. After all, it was Patty's pestering Jenna that had Jenna pestering Izzy.

"O-M-G, Pepper!" Izzy squeals, "You and your toys! I'll be there in 20." And Izzy laughs. Izzy has seen plenty here. Both male and female toys. She could have answered all of Jenna's questions instead of leaving Jenna to rely on gossip. But Izzy wouldn't. She'll never tell anyone anything she sees here. So she's always welcome to join me for a little entertainment. And I know she loves to watch a toy's first time here. She loves seeing them strip down for the first time, not having a clue what I'm going to do to their naked bodies, yet willing submitting to it. Sometimes she even manages not to laugh at them.

Forty minutes later, Izzy and I are sitting on my sofa sipping coffee. Sophie is on her knees serving us. Paige, my house-slave/whore (she's only 18!) is still in high school. I've already dropped her off for her day. Jenna is knocking on my door.

I send Sophie to answer the door. Usually, I have Sophie dressed in a rather slutty sexy dress. As a slave-girl should be. But not this morning. Sophie has classes this afternoon as well. She's dressed in jeans and a colorful blouse that I like on her. It makes her look like a young college girl, which is what she is. Izzy is wearing knee-length cargo shorts and a blouse. She looks like a college girl, too. I'm wearing a very expensive skirt-suit. That's only because I have a business meeting this afternoon. It gives me the look of a too-young professional businesswoman. Which, in a way, I am.

Sophie lets them in. She points them to the love seat opposite the sofa Izzy and I are on. Jenna, as I've asked her to do, keeps a hand on Patty's arm and walks her over to the sofa. Patty sits, quickly crossing her legs. I guess the woman has learned some already! Jenna takes a seat beside Patty. Sophie rushes over to Jenna, kneels demurely before her, and asks if she can offer Jenna some coffee. Jenna accepts. No one offers Patty anything. Sophie hurries off to fetch a cup for Jenna.

"Patricia!" I scold her without raising my voice. "Sit up straight, like a lady, not like some sloth!"

Patty's back almost snaps to an impossibly hard straightness. "I'm sorry, Ma'am!" Patty blurts out with a trace of nervousness in her voice. I haven't heard that yet. I attribute it to the sudden realization that this is real. It's actually happening. She's going to be punished. And she hasn't a clue what her punishment is going to be. Only that, obviously, it's going to be unpleasant for her. It wouldn't be much of a punishment if it wasn't, would it?

It takes Patty a fraction of a second. Then her eyes dart anxiously back and forth between Izzy and Sophie. I'm sure she can guess who Sophie is. The pastel-green soft leather collar locked around her neck is a pretty big clue that she's owned. The look on Patty's face tells me that she's never met, Izzy. The anxiousness tells me that now Patty is considering that I might be planning an audience for her punishment. That's something she obviously never considered. That not only would... things be done to her, some of them unpleasant, some of them hopefully very pleasant but that others might be allowed to watch them done. That Patty would be turned into a sideshow for the amusement of strangers. A very degrading sideshow, too.