Greg sat nervously in the coffee shop in the back booth, waiting for the woman to show up.
They had discussed some basics via email, and he had sent pictures. She refused to send him pictures, stating that her looks were not relevant. He was applying to be her submissive, and if he was accepted, he wouldn't be allowed to look at her much anyway. This made him nervous, but he really needed this position. He would not be able to survive much longer without one; he needed the protection from the freelancers that would end up co-opting him. It had been two months since he had been released from his last position and options were looking slim.
A woman entered and looked around. About 5'4" and 200 lbs with short clipped hair; Greg shuddered, and hoped this was not the woman he was waiting for. She saw him, glanced away, and joined another woman sitting at a table. Greg sighed with relief.
A group of three women entered a few minutes later, chatting. The approached the counter and ordered, happily chatting. He continued to watch the door, feeling a combination of arousal and fear. His cock was hard in his pants, but every time he thought of the unknown woman a chill went up and down his back.
Suddenly, one of the three women at the bar sat down across from him at his table. He focused on her for the first time. She was cute, with a kind face and freckles, dark hair that extended slightly below her shoulders, though it was pulled back tightly in a pony tail now. Could this woman be her? The woman he had waited for? She had sounded rather stern in her emails, this cute thing seemed more like a girlfriend than a top.
She sipped her coffee, and then said in a low voice that didn't quite match her young, cute features, "Well, Greg. We meet. I must say I am a little disappointed. The pictures you sent showed a more acceptable presentation; and your current behavior does not match how you described your submissive training."
He could feel his erection suddenly diminish and his heart begin beating faster. He felt his eyes get wider, and he quickly lowered them in a show of submission. This woman was not what he expected at all; she must only be about 24 or 25, was thin though tall (he couldn't really tell from her seated position, but she looked taller than the other women). She wore a tight fitting black knit top, which showed a slim, perhaps even muscular frame, smallish breasts that were still pronounced through the tight top, and smooth delicate skin on her hands.
Her nails were cut and manicured short. Lesbian nails. He now remembered the leather boots she wore and the key on the chain dangling around her neck. It fell together. This was her. This was his potential mistress. To have gotten an interview with someone this incredibly beautiful, he couldn't believe his luck.
Passion suddenly welled inside him. He wanted to serve her more than anything in the world. He wanted to be her slave, to do anything for her. In fact, he wanted her to test him, lead him, use him... how could he convince her?
He felt a sudden pressure on his balls; something had slipped between his legs and was pushed against them. It didn't hurt, but was uncomfortable. He began to shift positions and then suddenly realized... she had her boot up and the heel was pressing into him.
"Yes, mistress," He said in a low tone, spreading his legs slightly to show obedience.
She shoved a little harder, and he grunted, just a little, from the increased pressure. "I have not accepted you yet. You have no right to call me that. For now, you may call me Miss."
Greg could smell something slightly sweet, a perfume, or scent that she wore, just wafting past briefly. Her voice haunted him. It was smooth, and mellow, almost kind. The matter of fact way she stated things showed she assumed total obedience, and that nothing less would be accepted. She presented a kind face and attitude, which hid something very dark inside, he could tell.
"Here is how this will work. I will ask you some questions about your training, and your desires. If your answer pleases me, I will withdraw my foot. If it does not, then your testicles will feel my displeasure," She shifted in her seat, smiled and touched my hand gently, almost lovingly.
"Who was your last top?" She asked.
"Merilee Matthewes, Miss," Greg stated, looking at the perfectly shaped lips of the woman. He gasped when the boot shoved into his balls, hard. Pain rippled momentarily and spread a little before she pulled back a bit.
"You have not been trained well. Refer to your Mistress properly, dog."
"Forgive me, mistress, I mean Mistress Merilee Matthewes." He grunted and gasped again... Pain continued to expand from his groin. "Forgive me, I meant... Miss."
The interview went on like this, and after about a half an hour Greg felt that he would not be able to continue. The entire lower half of his body was swathed in pain, and he felt nauseous. He was doing better, at least half of his answers seemed to please the angelic figure who sat in her chair with a light, imposing presence that contradicted her slim frame and lovely face. He determined he would not give up, that he was willing to do anything to become enslaved to this woman, and gritted his teeth as the boot heel pushed against his balls once again. Tears trickled down his face, but he was determined.
After an hour, she dropped her boot to the floor and sat upright. He chanced a look at her, and saw she was smiling slightly. The smile made her look absolutely stunning.
"You may call me Miss Emily. We will have a second interview the weekend of the 13th. Come to this address," here she slid a card across the table, "at precisely 6pm on Friday. Be prepared to stay the weekend; don't bother bringing anything, you won't need it. Don't disappoint me."
"Yes, Miss Emily," Greg responded, taking the card and feeling excitement ripple through his stomach. He was being granted a second trial, an entire weekend! He observed her closely as she left the coffee shop. Her slim body was a picture of femininity, a perfect figure, and yes he had been right - she was tall, maybe 5'9" or so.
That night Greg masturbated in his bed, imagining that it was Miss Emily that lay with him and manipulated him. He dared not think of actually entering her, this was something that only the most devoted and accepted long term slaves ever achieved. He simply wanted her touch on his cock. He ejaculated three times that night, the last time somewhat painfully.
Friday arrived, and Greg prepared himself in mind and body. Following the directions, he drove to into the country and finally found the large converted farm house just off the road. Turning in the drive, he pulled his car to the side of the main building, and sat for a moment after turning off the engine. His cock was rock hard, his pulse was racing, and he shook with a mixture of fear and anticipation.
Finally he stepped out of the car, and walked to the front door. He rang the doorbell, and then waited.
The door opened, and standing in the doorway was a short, cute, blonde girl wearing a heavy leather corset, lace panties, and not a lot else. Her perky breasts were lifted and pushed out by the corset. Greg sucked in a huge breath, not knowing what was happening. This was not Miss Emily, not the woman he was applying too for a position as submissive. But he knew she was female, and in his position he must show deference to all females.
Lowering his head to look at the ground, he announced in a shaky voice, "My name is Greg. I have an appointment with Miss Emily."
The girl turned, and said perfunctorily, "Follow me."
Greg followed her into the house, closing the door behind him. The place was very large, decorated nicely, with polished marble floors covered with an occasional rug, modern furniture, and beautiful artwork through out. The girl led him into a side room which was decorated sparsely with a metal table and chair.
"My name is Miss Siobhan," said the girl in a tone that sounded hostile. "I am Miss Emily's full time female submissive. Don't take that as a sign of freedom, you are still to obey me at all times when Miss Emily is not present. Remove your clothes. All of them. Nothing man made is to remain on your body. Fold them and place them in hamper you see to your right. Remain here waiting until Miss Emily comes."
Miss Siobhan left, and Gregg stole a look at her as she left the room. Her perfect hourglass figure was accentuated by the corset, which was laced very tightly in the back. Her skin was a smooth white with a hint of tan, and her legs shapely. Her hair was cut shorter, and the pony tail in the back barely held it out of her face. Her bare feet made a very quite pad-pad noise until the door closed behind her and he was alone.
Heaving a huge sigh, Greg began removing his clothes. He felt vulnerable in this slightly cold, hard room. The thoughts of what might be coming swirled in his head. Two women, not one. Both beautiful, in their own ways. But it was clear that this house was strict, and discipline could be strict as well. He had no idea what was going to happen, and that both aroused and frightened him.
When his clothes were off, he sat down in the hard metal chair and waited. The cold metal emphasized the nakedness of his body. He wondered if this was the intention. There was nothing in this room that wasn't made of a hard surface. The white marble contrasted with the black metal of the furniture, and the gun metal gray frames surrounding the window and two paintings on the walls. The paintings were austere paintings of women. He recognized Miss Emily in one of the two paintings, and as his eyes roamed over the artistic details of her face and body, he felt his cock growing harder.
Just as his cock reached a full and hard erection, the door opened and Miss Emily entered. She was wearing tight jeans and a wife beater with no bra. Her nipples were clearly visible through the cloth, and Greg could not help but stare at the revealed shape of perfect breasts.
"Is this how you illustrate your good training and behavior before me? You sit in my chair without permission, and stare at my chest?" Miss Emily's voice was low and calm, as before. In her very matter of fact tone, she continued. "You are far from ready for this household, which has a high standard."
The metal legs of the chair scraped loudly as Greg leaped out of the chair and fell to his knees, bowing his head. He took the traditional position of submissive, sitting with knees spread wide, head bowed and hands behind back. This wasn't a good start. But... the sight of Miss Emily had once again inspired him with a sort of love, mixed with the energy of lust. He wanted her approval above all else. He wanted her discipline, for it meant she was attending to him, forming him, making him something she wanted.
"Hands and knees," she said. He fell forward into the position. "Follow."
He shuffled behind her, watching her feet before him as he crawled on his hands and knees down the hallway and finally to a closed door, which she opened with a key. The wood door had a very heavy sound to it, as if it were made of solid oak. Greg followed over the threshold, and into a plain concrete room with no windows. The smooth concrete floor sloped slightly to a drain in the corner.
The room was lit, but seemed very dark. It had a very eerie feeling; as if the light was there, but didn't penetrate or illuminate anything. Then he realized what it was -- most things in the room were either very dark, or completely black. The walls were black, the concrete floor a dark gray. Other items in the room were black, dark gray or a dark brown, for the most part. It felt cold, colder than upstairs, and Greg's naked body shivered.
"Stand." Miss Emily, took his arm kindly, and he stood, making sure to keep his head bowed. "This is the room of discipline. Here, you are the star. Your suffering is the objective. Unlike other areas of the house, very little is required of you here except to experience the pain of disobedience."
Miss Emily took him by the hand and led him to a strange looking medical examination table, and continued talking in a smooth, calm voice as she guided him up onto its surface, and began strapping him in place. "We can play together here, you and I, and learn your limits, and expand them."
Greg had begun to shake. The room was cold, very cold to his naked skin. But his shaking was more from the growing sense of foreboding and outright fear. In spite of the calm way Miss Emily spoke... or perhaps because of it, he was beginning to suspect he had made a mistake in coming here.
When he was strapped securely to the table, Miss Emily began preparations for something off to the side of the room. He heard water running, filling up in some sort of container. He saw her bare shoulders and muscles work in her back as she moved. He could think of nothing but the expanse of raw and beautiful flesh beneath her tank top, of how beautiful she was, how fit and smooth.
Miss Siobhan entered the room, and stood next to her taller mistress. Together they began discussing the benefits of various types of plugs. "I think this one," Miss Siobhan was saying. "It is longer, penetrates deeper. I think men should be penetrated as deeply as possible, as punishment for simply being men."
Miss Emily disagreed. "I understand, but I like the inflatable. Especially this one. It means he can take a great amount of liquid, and for a longer time. The peristalsis is greater, and I love feeling their stomach when they cramp."
So it was decided. Miss Emily turned with a tall IV rack from which hung a very large enema bag, full to distention. Hanging from it was a long rubber tube with an inflatable nozzle. Greg knew now what was going to happen. He wasn't new to enemas, and recognized that the bag held enough liquid that his insides would be stretched hard, and he would be in significant cramping pain before long. He shivered, and strained at the restraints.
Without greasing the plug, Miss Emily pushed it between Greg's ass cheeks roughly. He knew he needed to take the nozzle, that resisting would only cause anal damage and he relaxed as best he could. The hard plastic pushed and spread him, and he pushed back, relaxing his sphincter in cooperation. With a sudden movement the nozzle slid into place, and Miss Siobhan began pumping the inflatable bladder that was now just inside his rectum. He felt it growing, distending and stretching his flesh until pain set it.
He whimpered a little. His legs were strapped apart, his cock and balls hanging limp and exposed, the rubber tube entering him just below. He waited.
Miss Emily smiled, and moved to the side. Miss Siobhan joined her and began helping her out of her clothes. Greg could not believe his luck... he was going to see his dominant naked! He desired this more than anything, in spite of the pain he was about to experience, he wanted to see her perfect body standing over him, her flesh exposed, the ripple of her muscles and movements as she worked on him...
He caught a glimpse of a flat stomach with perfect breasts above, with slight curves and small, erect nipples. His own cock had grown hard, and was throbbing, bouncing as it pointed up his stomach.
But the one glimpse was all he had for moments later Miss Siobhan fitted a hood over his head. The hood had an opening for mouth and nose, but none for the eyes, and he was plunged into isolation and darkness. Through the mouth hole he felt a penis gag shoved between his teeth and strapped into place. It size made him gag as it pressed against the back of his throat, and the taste of leather was slightly musky. He bit down on the gag, feeling its solid presence. He had always felt calmed by gags. They were something to bite down on, an object against which he could writhe when pain or frustration became too much for him.
After an hour, she dropped her boot to the floor and sat upright. He chanced a look at her, and saw she was smiling slightly. The smile made her look absolutely stunning.
"You may call me Miss Emily. We will have a second interview the weekend of the 13th. Come to this address," here she slid a card across the table, "at precisely 6pm on Friday. Be prepared to stay the weekend; don't bother bringing anything, you won't need it. Don't disappoint me."
"Yes, Miss Emily," Greg responded, taking the card and feeling excitement ripple through his stomach. He was being granted a second trial, an entire weekend! He observed her closely as she left the coffee shop. Her slim body was a picture of femininity, a perfect figure, and yes he had been right - she was tall, maybe 5'9" or so.
That night Greg masturbated in his bed, imagining that it was Miss Emily that lay with him and manipulated him. He dared not think of actually entering her, this was something that only the most devoted and accepted long term slaves ever achieved. He simply wanted her touch on his cock. He ejaculated three times that night, the last time somewhat painfully.
Friday arrived, and Greg prepared himself in mind and body. Following the directions, he drove to into the country and finally found the large converted farm house just off the road. Turning in the drive, he pulled his car to the side of the main building, and sat for a moment after turning off the engine. His cock was rock hard, his pulse was racing, and he shook with a mixture of fear and anticipation.
Finally he stepped out of the car, and walked to the front door. He rang the doorbell, and then waited.
The door opened, and standing in the doorway was a short, cute, blonde girl wearing a heavy leather corset, lace panties, and not a lot else. Her perky breasts were lifted and pushed out by the corset. Greg sucked in a huge breath, not knowing what was happening. This was not Miss Emily, not the woman he was applying too for a position as submissive. But he knew she was female, and in his position he must show deference to all females.
Lowering his head to look at the ground, he announced in a shaky voice, "My name is Greg. I have an appointment with Miss Emily."
The girl turned, and said perfunctorily, "Follow me."
Greg followed her into the house, closing the door behind him. The place was very large, decorated nicely, with polished marble floors covered with an occasional rug, modern furniture, and beautiful artwork through out. The girl led him into a side room which was decorated sparsely with a metal table and chair.
"My name is Miss Siobhan," said the girl in a tone that sounded hostile. "I am Miss Emily's full time female submissive. Don't take that as a sign of freedom, you are still to obey me at all times when Miss Emily is not present. Remove your clothes. All of them. Nothing man made is to remain on your body. Fold them and place them in hamper you see to your right. Remain here waiting until Miss Emily comes."
Miss Siobhan left, and Gregg stole a look at her as she left the room. Her perfect hourglass figure was accentuated by the corset, which was laced very tightly in the back. Her skin was a smooth white with a hint of tan, and her legs shapely. Her hair was cut shorter, and the pony tail in the back barely held it out of her face. Her bare feet made a very quite pad-pad noise until the door closed behind her and he was alone.
Heaving a huge sigh, Greg began removing his clothes. He felt vulnerable in this slightly cold, hard room. The thoughts of what might be coming swirled in his head. Two women, not one. Both beautiful, in their own ways. But it was clear that this house was strict, and discipline could be strict as well. He had no idea what was going to happen, and that both aroused and frightened him.
When his clothes were off, he sat down in the hard metal chair and waited. The cold metal emphasized the nakedness of his body. He wondered if this was the intention. There was nothing in this room that wasn't made of a hard surface. The white marble contrasted with the black metal of the furniture, and the gun metal gray frames surrounding the window and two paintings on the walls. The paintings were austere paintings of women. He recognized Miss Emily in one of the two paintings, and as his eyes roamed over the artistic details of her face and body, he felt his cock growing harder.
Just as his cock reached a full and hard erection, the door opened and Miss Emily entered. She was wearing tight jeans and a wife beater with no bra. Her nipples were clearly visible through the cloth, and Greg could not help but stare at the revealed shape of perfect breasts.
"Is this how you illustrate your good training and behavior before me? You sit in my chair without permission, and stare at my chest?" Miss Emily's voice was low and calm, as before. In her very matter of fact tone, she continued. "You are far from ready for this household, which has a high standard."
The metal legs of the chair scraped loudly as Greg leaped out of the chair and fell to his knees, bowing his head. He took the traditional position of submissive, sitting with knees spread wide, head bowed and hands behind back. This wasn't a good start. But... the sight of Miss Emily had once again inspired him with a sort of love, mixed with the energy of lust. He wanted her approval above all else. He wanted her discipline, for it meant she was attending to him, forming him, making him something she wanted.
"Hands and knees," she said. He fell forward into the position. "Follow."
He shuffled behind her, watching her feet before him as he crawled on his hands and knees down the hallway and finally to a closed door, which she opened with a key. The wood door had a very heavy sound to it, as if it were made of solid oak. Greg followed over the threshold, and into a plain concrete room with no windows. The smooth concrete floor sloped slightly to a drain in the corner.
The room was lit, but seemed very dark. It had a very eerie feeling; as if the light was there, but didn't penetrate or illuminate anything. Then he realized what it was -- most things in the room were either very dark, or completely black. The walls were black, the concrete floor a dark gray. Other items in the room were black, dark gray or a dark brown, for the most part. It felt cold, colder than upstairs, and Greg's naked body shivered.
"Stand." Miss Emily, took his arm kindly, and he stood, making sure to keep his head bowed. "This is the room of discipline. Here, you are the star. Your suffering is the objective. Unlike other areas of the house, very little is required of you here except to experience the pain of disobedience."
Miss Emily took him by the hand and led him to a strange looking medical examination table, and continued talking in a smooth, calm voice as she guided him up onto its surface, and began strapping him in place. "We can play together here, you and I, and learn your limits, and expand them."
Greg had begun to shake. The room was cold, very cold to his naked skin. But his shaking was more from the growing sense of foreboding and outright fear. In spite of the calm way Miss Emily spoke... or perhaps because of it, he was beginning to suspect he had made a mistake in coming here.
When he was strapped securely to the table, Miss Emily began preparations for something off to the side of the room. He heard water running, filling up in some sort of container. He saw her bare shoulders and muscles work in her back as she moved. He could think of nothing but the expanse of raw and beautiful flesh beneath her tank top, of how beautiful she was, how fit and smooth.
Miss Siobhan entered the room, and stood next to her taller mistress. Together they began discussing the benefits of various types of plugs. "I think this one," Miss Siobhan was saying. "It is longer, penetrates deeper. I think men should be penetrated as deeply as possible, as punishment for simply being men."
Miss Emily disagreed. "I understand, but I like the inflatable. Especially this one. It means he can take a great amount of liquid, and for a longer time. The peristalsis is greater, and I love feeling their stomach when they cramp."
So it was decided. Miss Emily turned with a tall IV rack from which hung a very large enema bag, full to distention. Hanging from it was a long rubber tube with an inflatable nozzle. Greg knew now what was going to happen. He wasn't new to enemas, and recognized that the bag held enough liquid that his insides would be stretched hard, and he would be in significant cramping pain before long. He shivered, and strained at the restraints.
Without greasing the plug, Miss Emily pushed it between Greg's ass cheeks roughly. He knew he needed to take the nozzle, that resisting would only cause anal damage and he relaxed as best he could. The hard plastic pushed and spread him, and he pushed back, relaxing his sphincter in cooperation. With a sudden movement the nozzle slid into place, and Miss Siobhan began pumping the inflatable bladder that was now just inside his rectum. He felt it growing, distending and stretching his flesh until pain set it.
He whimpered a little. His legs were strapped apart, his cock and balls hanging limp and exposed, the rubber tube entering him just below. He waited.
Miss Emily smiled, and moved to the side. Miss Siobhan joined her and began helping her out of her clothes. Greg could not believe his luck... he was going to see his dominant naked! He desired this more than anything, in spite of the pain he was about to experience, he wanted to see her perfect body standing over him, her flesh exposed, the ripple of her muscles and movements as she worked on him...
He caught a glimpse of a flat stomach with perfect breasts above, with slight curves and small, erect nipples. His own cock had grown hard, and was throbbing, bouncing as it pointed up his stomach.
But the one glimpse was all he had for moments later Miss Siobhan fitted a hood over his head. The hood had an opening for mouth and nose, but none for the eyes, and he was plunged into isolation and darkness. Through the mouth hole he felt a penis gag shoved between his teeth and strapped into place. It size made him gag as it pressed against the back of his throat, and the taste of leather was slightly musky. He bit down on the gag, feeling its solid presence. He had always felt calmed by gags. They were something to bite down on, an object against which he could writhe when pain or frustration became too much for him.
The flow of liquid began. He didn't know what the liquid was, he just knew it was cold and rapidly filled his bowels. The cold caused immediate contractions and he moaned with the introductory pain. The flow continued as he cramped, and the cramps spread as the liquid penetrated further and deeper inside him.
"Your education is beginning. Your faults are these," Miss Emily was speaking in a kind but firm tone as the pain of the huge enema slowly increased. "You entered my house fully clothed. When you removed your clothes, you did not fold them and put them away neatly but let them litter the floor of my home. You sat, naked, in my chair, spreading your filth over my furniture. You stared at me, looking at my body as if it was your own. For these things, you are being punished. Pray that you learn some respect and discipline, and don't spend the entire weekend in this room."
There was something in the liquid. Some additive. It caused more cramping. He could tell. As the liquid spread up, moving from the large intestines and pushed its way higher, he could feel his entire lower body calling out in pain. He began to whimper and cry, biting down on the gag.
Hands were placed on his distended belly. Several hands pressed gently on him, feeling how he gurgled and and the tubes of his intestines grew and shifted inside of him as he was filled, like balloons. He knew they were feeling his pain, and when there was a sudden cramp that shot across his abdomen he almost screamed in pain. The hands followed it, as if they were seeking to find the pain and absorb it.
Finally, the flow stopped. He couldn't tell quite when it did, but he could tell there was no more entering him. The liquid inside still pressed and pushed higher into his small intestines, causing new pains and cramps. He continued to cry inside his hood, sobbing, wishing he could beg for mercy though he knew he would not be understood through the gag that filled his mouth. Though the flow stopped, the inflated plug remained, and the cramps stayed. The desperate need to expel the enema liquid was at the front of his mind. Nausea rolled over him, and he hoped he would not vomit into the gag.
Hands continued to move over him, touching every part of his body. Something was fastened around his testicles. His cock, still somewhat erect, was stroked, bringing the erection back in full. Severe clamps were placed on his nipples, and he cried out "OH... No...nonono..." as each bit of soft flesh was smashed by the cruel pressure.
Hands massaged his belly, pressing against its tightness, encouraging the enema liquid to move higher and consume more of his body. He heard the two women talking, but could not understand what they said. His cries continued, going from soft moans to almost screams as peristalsis came and went in waves.
Something was inserted into his hardened cock. It slid in smoothly. His cock was being stroked to keep it hard, at the same time the tube was sliding in deeper and deeper. He could feel the extremely odd sensation as the tube moved deeper than his penis and into his body. Suddenly, the tube turned warm as it invaded his bladder and urine came streaming out. It spurted and flowed over his stomach; he could feel the hot liquid spreading and running down the roundness of his expanded abdomen.
Suddenly, the air was released from the inflatable plug in his anus. He struggled against the straps that restrained him and tried momentarily to hold the contents of his bowels. The pressure was simply too great. With a great splash, he spurted liquid out, evacuating his bowels of all their contents. It was mostly liquid, though at times he felt chunks passing through his anus, pushed along by the water. The nausea waved over him again and again as the liquid kept coming out. When it seemed to slow, new cramps would start and more would be pushed out.
The room stank. The women were no longer touching him. He felt filthy, covered with the contents of his bladder and bowels, which had been forced from him. When the peristalsis finally stopped and he felt empty, completely empty, he lay sobbing quietly, waiting for whatever would happen next.
The hood was removed. He could see both Miss Emily and Miss Siobhan standing to the side of his table. They were both naked, and in spite of his better judgment, Greg stared at Miss Emily's perfect breasts, and Miss Siobhan's small ones. He worshiped them in his mind until Miss Emily's hand slapped him hard.
"I see you haven't learned not to stare."
He was unstrapped from the table, though his hands were immediately tied and a hook hanging from the ceiling attached. A small motor whirred and he was raised to his tip toes, most of his weight pressing on his wrists. Miss Siobhan took two hoses with pressure nozzles and handed them to Miss Emily.
The first high pressure stream of water hit him hard and stung. It was ice cold. He couldn't help but yelp at the sudden discomfort. The water pounded him from the chest, down to his now empty stomach and abdomen. As the water stream settled on his genitals, he screamed again. The pressure pounded his balls as if they were being kicked and the pain was horrible. "Please, please... oh god, please, no! Aaaacchh......... oh god oh god...." Greg cried out as the water struck his most sensitive area.
Eventually, the water moved around to the back of his body as he slowly rotated himself using what little control he had with his toes on the ground. It spread across his back and ass, temporarily spreading his cheeks and forcing itself up his anus once more. It then descended to his legs, much to his relief.
Once he was washed off completely, the other hose was turned on. Hot water hit him with a shock. It spread across his chest and back, and then pounded on his cock and balls once again. He cried out, and as he did so the water abruptly turned cold once again. The cold water on flesh warmed by hot water bit him like a whip.
Back and forth the cold and hot water sliced across him, cleaning him and punishing him at the same time.
Finally, the water was turned off and he hung dripping by his wrists, the water having washed all the filth off of him and down the drain. When his wrists were released, he fell to the floor and lay there shaking in a fetal position, trying to recover from the horrible abuse that had been his punishment.
Greg didn't know how long he lay on the cold, hard floor shaking, but when Miss Siobhan started the next phase of his training, he was dry.
"Your education is beginning. Your faults are these," Miss Emily was speaking in a kind but firm tone as the pain of the huge enema slowly increased. "You entered my house fully clothed. When you removed your clothes, you did not fold them and put them away neatly but let them litter the floor of my home. You sat, naked, in my chair, spreading your filth over my furniture. You stared at me, looking at my body as if it was your own. For these things, you are being punished. Pray that you learn some respect and discipline, and don't spend the entire weekend in this room."
There was something in the liquid. Some additive. It caused more cramping. He could tell. As the liquid spread up, moving from the large intestines and pushed its way higher, he could feel his entire lower body calling out in pain. He began to whimper and cry, biting down on the gag.
Hands were placed on his distended belly. Several hands pressed gently on him, feeling how he gurgled and and the tubes of his intestines grew and shifted inside of him as he was filled, like balloons. He knew they were feeling his pain, and when there was a sudden cramp that shot across his abdomen he almost screamed in pain. The hands followed it, as if they were seeking to find the pain and absorb it.
Finally, the flow stopped. He couldn't tell quite when it did, but he could tell there was no more entering him. The liquid inside still pressed and pushed higher into his small intestines, causing new pains and cramps. He continued to cry inside his hood, sobbing, wishing he could beg for mercy though he knew he would not be understood through the gag that filled his mouth. Though the flow stopped, the inflated plug remained, and the cramps stayed. The desperate need to expel the enema liquid was at the front of his mind. Nausea rolled over him, and he hoped he would not vomit into the gag.
Hands continued to move over him, touching every part of his body. Something was fastened around his testicles. His cock, still somewhat erect, was stroked, bringing the erection back in full. Severe clamps were placed on his nipples, and he cried out "OH... No...nonono..." as each bit of soft flesh was smashed by the cruel pressure.
Hands massaged his belly, pressing against its tightness, encouraging the enema liquid to move higher and consume more of his body. He heard the two women talking, but could not understand what they said. His cries continued, going from soft moans to almost screams as peristalsis came and went in waves.
Something was inserted into his hardened cock. It slid in smoothly. His cock was being stroked to keep it hard, at the same time the tube was sliding in deeper and deeper. He could feel the extremely odd sensation as the tube moved deeper than his penis and into his body. Suddenly, the tube turned warm as it invaded his bladder and urine came streaming out. It spurted and flowed over his stomach; he could feel the hot liquid spreading and running down the roundness of his expanded abdomen.
Suddenly, the air was released from the inflatable plug in his anus. He struggled against the straps that restrained him and tried momentarily to hold the contents of his bowels. The pressure was simply too great. With a great splash, he spurted liquid out, evacuating his bowels of all their contents. It was mostly liquid, though at times he felt chunks passing through his anus, pushed along by the water. The nausea waved over him again and again as the liquid kept coming out. When it seemed to slow, new cramps would start and more would be pushed out.
The room stank. The women were no longer touching him. He felt filthy, covered with the contents of his bladder and bowels, which had been forced from him. When the peristalsis finally stopped and he felt empty, completely empty, he lay sobbing quietly, waiting for whatever would happen next.
The hood was removed. He could see both Miss Emily and Miss Siobhan standing to the side of his table. They were both naked, and in spite of his better judgment, Greg stared at Miss Emily's perfect breasts, and Miss Siobhan's small ones. He worshiped them in his mind until Miss Emily's hand slapped him hard.
"I see you haven't learned not to stare."
He was unstrapped from the table, though his hands were immediately tied and a hook hanging from the ceiling attached. A small motor whirred and he was raised to his tip toes, most of his weight pressing on his wrists. Miss Siobhan took two hoses with pressure nozzles and handed them to Miss Emily.
The first high pressure stream of water hit him hard and stung. It was ice cold. He couldn't help but yelp at the sudden discomfort. The water pounded him from the chest, down to his now empty stomach and abdomen. As the water stream settled on his genitals, he screamed again. The pressure pounded his balls as if they were being kicked and the pain was horrible. "Please, please... oh god, please, no! Aaaacchh......... oh god oh god...." Greg cried out as the water struck his most sensitive area.
Eventually, the water moved around to the back of his body as he slowly rotated himself using what little control he had with his toes on the ground. It spread across his back and ass, temporarily spreading his cheeks and forcing itself up his anus once more. It then descended to his legs, much to his relief.
Once he was washed off completely, the other hose was turned on. Hot water hit him with a shock. It spread across his chest and back, and then pounded on his cock and balls once again. He cried out, and as he did so the water abruptly turned cold once again. The cold water on flesh warmed by hot water bit him like a whip.
Back and forth the cold and hot water sliced across him, cleaning him and punishing him at the same time.
Finally, the water was turned off and he hung dripping by his wrists, the water having washed all the filth off of him and down the drain. When his wrists were released, he fell to the floor and lay there shaking in a fetal position, trying to recover from the horrible abuse that had been his punishment.
Greg didn't know how long he lay on the cold, hard floor shaking, but when Miss Siobhan started the next phase of his training, he was dry.
Enema and catheterization. How hot!
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