Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“But I’ll make you miserable first.” Sir winks, and I can’t help but chuckle. I love seeing this side of him—that he can make something that should be uncomfortable, fun. It’s so different from anything I knew of him before.
“I hope so.”
Heat flares in his eyes, giving me a welcome burn.
“Bend over. I’m going to insert this nozzle and fill you with water. You have to hold it in for me until I say you can let it out. It will hurt, and you’ll cramp, but you’ll do it because it’s what your Sir wants. As I’ve said before, you always have your safe word, though. If it’s too much, you know what to say to make it stop.”
Pleasure receptors start going off in my head, my body and mind wanting to do whatever Sir says. That’s where my satisfaction is, what makes me feel like I’m flying.
When I don’t respond right away, Marshall smacks my ass.
“Yes, Sir,” I blurt out.
“Good boy. Face the mirror, please.” I do as he says, resting my arms on the cool granite as I watch myself and Sir in the mirror. He lubes the enema nozzle, then says, “Spread your cheeks.”
“Oh God,” I groan, part embarrassment, part need. But there’s no hesitation to do as he says. I reach back and grab my ass, opening it up for him.
“Such a pretty little hole,” he says, voice deep and raspy. Sir presses the end against my rim, then pushes in slowly. I’d wondered if he would start with a finger, but I guess this is basically the same thing.
I try to relax, which is much easier to do when someone is fingering me rather than sticking an enema nozzle up my ass, but I focus on watching him. This is Marshall, my Sir, and I want to give this to him. I want to have it for myself just as much. That’s what makes our relationship so special, what makes these moments so special—they fulfill a part of both of us, soothe a part of both of us, and there is never any judgment here.
“That’s it. You’re doing so well.”
I grimace through the discomfort I know is coming more from inside me, from the truth of what we’re doing rather than the penetration.
“There we go. You did it. It’s all the way in. Now comes the hard part.” We lock eyes in the mirror, and he smiles at me.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Very much so. I’m going to start releasing the water. Are you ready?”
“Yes, Sir,” I reply, the words coming out more confident than I feel.
There’s an initial flood of water. It’s not as if I’ve never done this before, but it’s still different having someone do it for me, seeing me this way.
“Look at you…such a greedy little slut for my cock that you’ll bend over and hold your ass open for me to clean you out this way.”
My pulse kicks up in the most addicting way, the soft voice in my head saying Yes, Sir. I’m your slut. Tell me again.
As if reading my thoughts, Sir adds, “Tell me. I want to hear you say you’re a greedy little slut for my cock.”
“I’m a greedy little slut for your cock.” In this moment, that feels like being the most powerful person in the world. My desire to submit to him is my superpower, giving me the ability to accomplish anything, to have anything. I’m untouchable and flying because wanting him and obeying him give me so much strength. “It’s all I want…all I need.”
“Christ, you’re so fucking perfect.”
And I feel perfect. Along with everything else he makes me feel, it’s the complete acceptance that means so much, and he’s the only person in the world I get that from.
More water floods in, my insides beginning to feel full.
“Can you take more?” he asks when I wince.
“Yes, Sir. A little bit.” Since this isn’t my first enema, I know my body—know what I can take and what I can’t. He might push me close to my boundaries, but that’s something we both want. I like the challenge in that, and he likes giving it to me.
“It’s okay to say yellow. Tell me if you can’t.”
“I can,” I assure him.
My legs feel weak, and a cramp hits my gut when he fills me more. I want to keep going, want him to empty the bag, but I also want to make him proud, and I know that telling him the truth will make him prouder than anything else. Sir wants me to suffer, but only in a way we both like, and neither of us would ever risk going so far that we did actual damage to my body.
“I think that’s enough, Sir… I can’t…take more. Yellow…”
He immediately stops, his hand rubbing up and down my back. “Thank you for telling me and for using your color so I know you’re serious.”