Once again I was in trouble. I’m not going to enumerate my offenses, but there were plenty! To be honest, I think, no, I know, I was so horrible because I NEEDED this. Mister is strict, but also kind. His cousin, is also strict, kind in a fashion, but immoveable in his expectations. To ensure I received the discipline I so aptly deserved, Mister and Wesley worked together.
First, I had to strip naked, stand with my back to the wall, hands on my head, and confess my misbehaviors. I did this, but with A LOT of attitude. Next, I had to kneel and first suck off Mister and then Wesley, but of whom fucked my face and then pulled out to spray their seed over my face and chest. I was not allowed to wipe it off.
Before coming down to our basement dungeon and play room, Mister had ME mix a milk and molasses enema. A VERY LARGE ONE! Mister was now attaching the double balloon retention tubing.
“Over here, Joy. Now lie on your left side,” he instructed.
I obeyed, lying on the cold concrete floor close to the toilet (no walls to call it a bathroom!) and sink. He held the bucket filled with the mixture high while Wesley inserted the lubed tubing.
Soon, I felt the cramping. This was ignored. Looking down, I could see my lower belly begin to distend as my bowels filled with warm liquid. I was sobbing quietly as my body continued to cramp. Mister would adjust the flow, but as soon as the cramping stopped, he’d start again until the full quart and a half of liquid was inside of me. Wesley then pumped both bulbs to their largest size and clamped. I lay there, uncomfortable, cramping, and humiliated.
“You will not eliminate until those bulbs are released, Joy. That will not be for a full fifteen minutes,” Mister stated and set a timer in front of my face so I could watch the minutes tick by. By the time 12 minutes had gone by, I was in agony, begging for mercy.
Wesley had enough of that and filled my mouth with a ball gag. When the timer finally chimed, the two men helped me to hover over the toilet and released then removed the double bulbs. The gushing evacuation added to my humiliation. Tears ran down my face at the pure embarrassment of the situation I had put myself in.
This whole process was repeated twice more but with clean water. By the third evacuation, Mister declared me properly cleaned out. He removed the ball gag and asked, “So, did you enjoy that?”
“No, Mister. I absolutely did not. The cramping was awful!”
“Too bad, because you’re going to subject yourself to this same treatment of enemas once a week for the next month,” he said with a smile.
I groaned, but answered, “Yes, Mister. If you wish.”
Next, I was strapped to the spanking bench so tightly that I was immobile except for a bit of movement of my head and neck, yet not so tightly as to be painful or even uncomfortable. In a way, I felt safe, secure. I knew that whatever consequence was to follow, neither Wesley nor Mister would harm me.
The consequence began with the flogging. This was my warm up. Mister was wielding the implements while Wesley was applying the violent wand to various exposed parts of my body. My feet. My pits. my hands. My shoulders. Every nerve ending was on high alert!
Meanwhile, Mister had moved on to a stiff leather paddle. By the time they finished, I was a mess of tender flesh and dripping honey. My soul had long since taken up residence in Sub World.
Wesley was first. I know his wide, long cock as well as I know my Mister’s. He lubed my ass, then plunged, balls deep inside of me. As he fucked me, Mister again listed all of my misbehaviors. Only after he finished the long list did Wesley pull out and spray my stinging flesh with his come.
Mister picked up the paddle again and focused this time on my sit spot. I was sobbing and begging for mercy which was (thank the gods!) ignored. When he decided I’d had enough, he re-lubed my ass and then took his pleasure there. As he fucked me, he continued to slap my sore ass until he shot his load deep inside of me.
“Smell that?” Wesley asked as Mister eased himself free of my body. “Don’t you just love the scent of freshly pulverized ginger?”
I groaned.
I was expecting a plug, but I was wrong. It was three silicone balls all slathered with the ginger. The balls were HUGE, roughly the size of a ping pong ball. Because of their flexibility, they went deep inside of me. Wesley, master of torture that he is, used one hand to press in each ball and the other to pinch my clit. I screamed from both pleasure and the burn of the ginger.
Then, the men left me there while they played a full game of 8 ball on the pool table. Once the game finished, I was unbound.
“Kneel,” Mister stated, pointing to a pillow.
I sunk onto it, grateful for the cushion.
“Speak,” Wesley ordered.
“In no particular order, I would like to thank both of you for this cushion. Thank you for the horrid enema. Thank you for the humiliation of the ordeal. Thank you for the spanking, my ass will remember it for at least a full 24 hours. Thank you for fucking me. Thank you for plugging me. Thank you for the discipline.”
As I spoke, a sense of cleanliness and peace came over me. I actually MEANT every word I said. They expected me to stop there, but I continued.
“And most of all, thank you both, but especially you, Mister, for giving me what I so very much want and need.” I smiled up at them. “I am so lucky to have you both in my life.”
“Beautifully stated, Joy,” Mister praised. “You’re still going to get that M and M enema and at least two clean water rinse outs every Sunday for the next month, you know.”
“I know,” I murmured, a calm smile on my face.
“And, I’m only going to fuck your ass for the next month as well.”
“Thank you, Mister.”
“At the end of the month, we’ll see how your behavior has improved. If it hasn’t improved to my satisfaction, I will extend this routine another month and add being plugged every time you step one foot out the door. Understood?” he asked, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes hard and firm.
“Yes, Mister. I understand.”
And I did.
Anarie Brady 