Spring Break Brings Spanks

"Don't be a baby," I scold. "I need to check in here for cum, and then you need your temperature taken."

She whines again. She's trying to tell me, once again, that there's no cum. Even through the gag, I can tell.

The first finger slides in easily. I probe all around and withdraw it regularly, scanning for evidence of unforgivable infidelity. The second finger doesn't have much more trouble than the first. I go deeper. Cat's breathing changes.

"That's right, baby, breathe through it," I say. "You know this needs to happen. Let me check you."

The third finger is intense for her, even with all the Vaseline. I can feel my wife start to shake and sweat. I go as deep as I can, then tickle her insides with the very tip of my longest finger. Cat emits a confused noise. It is a very strange sensation, no matter how many times you've felt it before.

I withdraw my fingers and check them one last time.

"Okay, Cat," I say. "There's no cum in your ass. That's good. That means you get to stay. That means I don't lift you up off of this bed and toss you out the front door."

She sighs through the gag. I'd call it relief, but, well, reminding her of the hard place doesn't make the rock any softer. I coat the oversized thermometer with Vaseline. I place its large, bulbous tip at her well-prepared entrance. Her glistening hole still twitches a little from the initial contact with the cold metal and glass.

"No squirming, Cat," I warn her. "This is solid glass. You want it to go in smoothly and straight."

She grunts once. I smile. I slowly slide the thermometer in. She mostly holds still. When I'm satisfied it's deep enough, I move the thumb of my other hand and start teasing Cat's clit hood with fast, light tweaks.

Her breathing gets shallow and quick, finding my thumb's rhythm. I feel heat building in between my two hands. I see hints of wetness. I smell arousal.

I give the thermometer a few twirls, then start slowly fucking Cat's ass with it.

"I think my slutty wife is enjoying this," I say.

She groans in humiliation.

"It's okay, baby," I tell her. "You're home with your husband now. You can be a slut. You can be a filthy little slut that likes it up the ass. Wives are supposed to be sluts for their husbands. They're supposed to let their husbands take care of their needs."

I take a moment to appreciate the sight before me. My beautiful wife is collared, gagged, handcuffed, and helpless on her back. Her pussy and ass are completely vulnerable. A large, thick tube of glass has three quarters of its length buried inside her rectum. I'm fucking her with it, and she's starting to like it.

I stop teasing her clit. I stop moving the thermometer. Cat groans in frustration.

"They're supposed to only let their husbands take care of their needs," I say sharply. "Oh well. We could've had such a nice night together. It would've been so much nicer than drinking, pigging out, and slutting it up with your awful, miserable friends, wouldn't it have?"

I wait until Cat grunts once. She only holds out for a couple of seconds.

"That's right," I respond to her defeated noise. Then I withdraw the thermometer and check it. "Uh-oh," I say. "Ninety-nine point nine. That's a little elevated."

Cat whines. I stroke her leg with my left hand, still bare. "Now now, baby, you were going to get an enema anyway," I remind her. "This just means the water will be cooler."

I let her sit with that thought for a few minutes. I go to the bathroom, remove the glove, and wash my hands thoroughly. Punished sluts need to be denied at least one orgasm. They need to be empty when they most want to be filled. They need to be neglected when they most want to be touched.

I return from the bathroom and make sure Cat sees that both of my hands are glove-free. I catch an appreciative glimmer from that other, better version of my wife. I ignore it. I situate myself to resume the inspection. I use the silicone lube to coat my hand.

When the first finger touches her pussy, Cat moves her hips and spreads her legs. I chuckle.

"Good slut," I say. "Relax and let it happen."

I drizzle lube on Cat's pelvis, making sure a few drops land on her clit hood. Through the gag, she gasps with surprise. I tease her pussy with my finger, scooping up rivulets of the silky fluid and spreading them around.

Cat's pussy heats up again quickly. My finger slides in with no effort at all. I explore and probe again. I withdraw and scan again. I add more fingers again. This time, she welcomes them. I can tell that her natural juices are flowing steadily, mixing together with the lube.

Unlike her ass, her pussy has strong muscles inside of it; even though my slut is primed and eager, I still have to put in some work when I get up to three digits. It isn't until she feels four at her entrance that she starts to worry again.

I drizzle more lube onto her pelvis, then place my other hand there. This time, my thumb is fully over her clit. She can sense it. Worry turns to conflict.

"Mmmm, that's right," I say. "You know you can take this. You know you'll like it eventually."

I slide the four fingers in. Cat's belly tenses up. She lifts her back off the bed using just her core muscles, and kicks her legs up at the knees. The noise she makes is the foul opposite of feminine -- a linebacker trying to power through a bout of constipation while getting shocked by a cattle prod.

I savor the sight of her widened eyes and tensing jaw. If she doesn't damage the ball gag with her clenching teeth right now, it will have justified its high price.

I rub her clit. She yelps, and collapses back down onto the bed and pillows. She wouldn't have been able to hold that stomach-crunch pose for very long anyway.

I push down with my bracing hand, and then push in with other. My two thumbs can practically touch each other. I work both of them at the same time. I lightly tease Cat's urethral opening while working her clit.

Sluttiness wins out. It never takes long. Cat's hips and breath find the new rhythm. Her entire pelvis is red hot. I can feel it with both hands.

"See?" I tell her. "You were being a baby. You worked yourself up over nothing, again."

I keep up the stimulation to her clit, but let my other thumb rest. I slowly rotate my four fingers inside of her pussy. Her muscles try to squeeze the fingers atop each other. I resist. I stretch her pussy out sideways. She groans through the gag.

I start the 'come hither' motion deep inside of her. Her groans change to moans. I find the spot. I work the clit. I drive my wife crazy. She's using every muscle she can to thrust her hips. Her perky breasts are heaving. Her flat, toned tummy is rolling like the tide.

"Do you want to cum, slut?" I ask.

She grunts once, loudly.

"Do you accept the extra punishment?" I ask.

She only hesitates for a few moments. Her hips never stop moving. She grunts again.

I ramp up the stimulation. Up top, I tilt my hand and switch from thumb to fingers. While one hand says, "come hither," inside, the other does a sideways goodbye wave on her clit. The lube helps everything glide.

One good thing about having a slutty wife is that it doesn't take her long to cum. After ten or fifteen more seconds, Cat gets quiet. Her legs lift up and bend towards her stomach, then start shaking. She starts listing to one side; my two hands work hard to keep her on her back.

Her pussy crushes my right hand with its powerful contractions. I fight her, trying to keep all four of my embedded fingers next to each other. I don't fully manage it, but it's a fun contest.

She exhales forcefully through her nose and the ball gag, then begins panting and huffing. Her feet find the floor again. Her orgasm wasn't particularly long, but it was intense. Now that it's over, I slide my bracing hand upwards and rub Cat's tummy. I pull just a tiny bit outwards with my other hand, letting her set the pace of my withdrawal.

I stand up, wipe my hands thoroughly, and then retrieve a water bottle from the nightstand. I take a few long swigs. I see Cat's head turn towards me. I see need in her eyes.

"Oh?" I ask. "You want to drink something besides booze?"

She nods eagerly.

I pretend to think about it. "Well," I say, "I suppose it won't do for you to get dehydrated."

I cock my head and wait a few more moments, pretending to think about something else. "If I take the gag off for a while, are you going to be a good slut?" I ask. "A polite slut? Are you going to thank me for taking care of you, then shut the fuck up unless I ask you a question?"

She grunts once.

"Okay," I say. "I guess we'll see."

I put the bottle down and get on the bed. I move the pillows around, and then help my wife up to a sitting position on the towel. I get behind her and unhook the straps of the ball gag. When the ball comes out, it's covered in slimy spit. I drop it down to the towel, right between my wife's legs.

I get off the bed, grab the water, and walk over to where my wife is sitting, still collared and cuffed. I loom over her expectantly. She's moving her jaw around, trying to relieve some of the stiffness.

She senses my presence and looks up. Her face is a complete mess. I cross my arms. That gives her the necessary motivation.

"Thank you for taking care of me, Jack," she says.

I glare at her and shake my head slowly. She sighs in defeat.

"Thank you for taking my temperature, Jack," she says. Her cheeks flush.

"You're welcome, honey," I reply.

"Thank you for inspecting my slutty holes for cum," she says.

"You're welcome for that, too," I reply.

"Thank you for letting me cum," she says.

"Well," I say, "you're going to be thanking me for that in a different way later, just like we agreed. But I appreciate the thought, Cat. I'm glad your attitude is improving. I can only hope it means your behavior in the future will, too."

"It will, Jack," she says. "I promise."

I shake my head again. "Well, I hope you're right," I say, "because now you promised. When you break a promise, that's a lot of extra punishment."

She nods. I nod back, satisfied for the moment. I sit down and offer her the bottle. I help her drink without choking herself. She downs the remainder -- half a liter.

"Thank you, Jack," she says.

I smile. "You're welcome," I reply. "But that's enough for now. There's another hole that needs hydrating."

Cat sighs. I squeeze her leg.

"I was thinking of keeping the gag, off, Cat," I say. "But that only happens if my wife is polite, obedient, and grateful. No fuss, no sass, no whining.

"Do you want to fuss?" I ask her. "Sass? Whine? I know you love to. I won't stop you. But then the gag goes back in."

"I'll be good, Jack," she says. Her voice is as weak as a kitten's. It's exactly what I like to hear.

I rub her back. "Okay, then," I say. "We'll see."

I stand up, retrieve the leash, and link it back to her collar. I tug the chain once. Cat stands up. It's a bit difficult with her hands still cuffed, but I'm there to steady her. I begin walking towards the bathroom and tug again. She follows in silence.

Everything in the bathroom is as prepared as it can be. I don't pre-mix the enema solution, because I want to control the temperature. There's a large towel and some pillows laid out near the toilet. I guide Cat over to them, then snap my fingers to get her attention.

"Now Cat," I say, "what position are you going to take your enema in?"

Her chin quivers and she blinks a few times. I see her struggling not to cry or whine. "Face down, ass up, Jack," she responds.

"That's right, honey," I say. "And why is that?"

"Because I'm a slut," she answers.

"Very good," I tell her. "Sluts take enema nozzles up their ass just like they take cocks. They bend over and present themselves for them, because they just can't get enough. When the medicine flows in, they imagine it's cum. They love getting filled up with cum."

Cat tries to hide her humiliation. She tries to appease me. "I love your cum, Jack," she says. "I love your cock."

I caress her face. She pretends to enjoy it, but she knows it isn't a kind gesture.

"Careful, honey," I say. "You don't want me to think you're trying to avoid your enema. Then I'd have to gag you again."

She shakes her head. "No baby, I know I need it," she says.

"Good," I reply. "That's good. Now, I'm going to give you a chance to be honest with me: how much medicine do you think you need?"

"I'm only a little backed up, Jack," she pleads. "Everything was okay yesterday. It was just today."

I stare at her for a few more moments, then break the gaze with a shrug. "Okay," I say again. "We'll see."

I unhook the leash and set it on the vanity. I make a show of filling up the enema bag only halfway -- one quart -- with cool water, and then mixing in the 'medicine.' It's just iodized salt, but Cat doesn't need to know that.

After hooking the bag to the shower curtain rod, I retrieve the double-bulb inflatable nozzle I'll be using and show it to my wife. Her eyes widen.

"Okay, Cat, let's get you into position," I say.

She's still cuffed, so she needs help. I guide her to the first pillow - the one nearest to the toilet. She sinks to her knees. I brace her as she leans forward, and make sure her head finds the second one.

"Okay honey, you just rest there for a minute," I say. "I need to go get some gloves and the lube."

"Okay, Jack," she replies. She's thoroughly defeated. I love it.

I go back to the bedroom and snap two gloves on. The canister of silicone lube is still on the bed where I left it.

Back in the bathroom, I kneel down next to my wife's vulnerable, fully-presented ass. I lube it up for the main event. She does her best to hold still and stay silent. When I get two slick, gloved fingers inside of her rear hole, she does release a little huff. I decide to let it go. I couldn't even tell if it was a huff of pain or pleasure.

I lube up the nozzle next, and place it at her entrance.

"Okay, honey," I say, "it's time to be a good little slut for your husband. Pretend this is my cock, baby. Tell me how much you want it."

Cat takes a few breaths, trying to psyche herself up.

"Oh Jack," she mewls, "I want your cock in my slutty ass so badly! Please, fill me up with cock! Fill me up with cum! I need your cum, baby. I love it so much."

I slide the nozzle in while she's talking. It goes in easy, but I still hear the change in her voice when it first penetrates. I smile, and pat her perky butt.

"Okay now, Cat," I say. "I'm going to seal you up."

I inflate both bulbs. Cat tries to breathe through it without making any other noises. She fails, of course. I credit the effort.

"Here it comes, now, baby," I say. "Take your medicine. Pretend it's my cum. That'll get you through it."

I release the clamp and stand up. I lord over my collared, handcuffed wife as she takes her medicine right up her ass -- or down it, given her submissive position. She keeps up with her breathing. I can tell it's an intense experience. I feel my cock strain in my jeans. This is perfect. This is exactly what a wife should look like.

It's a small dose, so it flows into her quickly. I squeeze the bag empty, then return to the floor.

"Five minutes, Cat," I say.

"Okay," she exhales with one of her controlled breaths.

I put some lube on my unsullied glove, and then reach under Cat's raised ass to find her pussy. I gently stroke it.

"You do still need my cum, Cat," I tell her. "I'm disappointed I don't get my choice of holes tonight."

"I'm... sorry... Jack," she breathes out.

"You've already puked tonight," I say, "so I don't want to imagine what might happen if I fuck your throat. And your ass, well... I'm not going to risk that either.

"That leaves your pussy," I tell her. "It really should be your mouth, since you were using that on your slutty friends. That means you owe me two extra blowjobs tomorrow."

"Okay," she exhales.

I find her clit, and start rubbing. "Do you want to cum again?" I ask. "Will you take the extra punishment?"

She tries to shake her head on the pillow. It's hard for her to talk.

"Is that a yes?" I tease.

"No," she gasps.

"Huh," I say, pretending to be surprised. "A slut that doesn't want to cum. Maybe she's learning a lesson."

"Yes," she gasps.

She's sweating and shaking now. It's probably been closer to six minutes than five. I let her off the hook.

"Okay honey, that's time," I say. "Let's get you up on your throne."

I wrap one strong arm around Cat's chest, and position the other behind her quads. With my help, she leans back up into an awkward kneeling position. My other arm gives her enough support so that she can get her feet underneath her knees. She stands, and I shift the nozzle so that it won't slip into the bowl.

Cat takes one shuffling step backwards, feels the porcelain against the back of her legs, and sits. I deflate the bulbs and slide the nozzle out. My wife gives me a pleading look, but doesn't say anything. She doesn't want the gag back in.

I shake my head knowingly. "You're my wife, Cat," I say. "I know everything about you. No secrets. Relax and let it out."

Her face goes red. She looks away. She empties, both ways. I stand over her, nozzle in hand, and watch.

After the first big waves are done, I set about cleaning the bathroom a bit. I detach the nozzle and wash it with soapy water, remove my gloves, rinse the bag and hang it upside down to dry. I return the hose and salt to one of our wide closet shelves.

"All done, honey?" I ask.

"I think so, Jack," she says. I can still hear the humiliation, but there's also need. It isn't sexual need. It's dependence. Cuffed as she remains, she needs her husband to clean her up.

I kneel down beside her and grab the bidet nozzle. I spray her front, then lean her forward to wash her crack. I'm extremely thorough back there; I don't want any nasty surprises. I'm able to dab her pussy dry with paper, but getting to her ass is too awkward with her arms and hands cuffed back there.

"Up, Cat," I tell her. She stands, and I'm there to make sure she doesn't topple.

"Over the vanity, then spread," I order.

She does what she's told, quiet as a mouse. I close the toilet and flush it. Then I grab some more paper. I dab and wipe my wife's vulnerable crack until the water's gone. I get some of the lube that's spread around back there, but I don't worry so much about the hole itself.

"Stay," I order.

I go back to the bedroom again and find a new plug. It's purple rubber - one of her smallest, just enough to keep the hole sealed for the night. She's not going to want anything big in there when it's time for her punishment.

I come back and show her the plug.

"Thank you, Jack," she says.

I smile. My slut is learning.

I lube up the plug and ease it in. After the night's activities, she has to squeeze it a little. I link the leash while she's still bent over. Then I grab the lube and tug the leash; she strains those core muscles again and manages to stand upright on her own. I lead her back to the bedroom. Once there, I unhook the leash and toss it aside. It's done its duty for the night. I set the lube down on the big towel.

I snap my wife to attention. "Stay," I command.

I take my clothes off in front of her. I don't rush it, but I'm not putting on a show for her, either. This is for me.

Once I'm naked, I give her her final test, and her final choice.

"How do sluts get fucked?" I ask her.

"However their husbands want, Jack," Cat says.

"Good answer," I say. "You know what? That's two swats off your punishment."

"Thank you, Jack," she replies. She sounds grateful enough.

"How do sluts usually get fucked?" I clarify.

She doesn't hesitate anymore. There are no more waves of humiliation or shame. There's no more fight. She simply is humiliated. She has submitted. It's her state of being. It's beautiful.