Punishment Enema Stories Novels & Stories

I admitted. His breath was deeper now. And I found myself speaking up. I told him about the dream where my step uncle pinned me against the wall of my childhood home, my lips parted, wrists tied. I told him how he whispered filthy things in my ear while his fingers slid between my thighs. I told him how I begged. How I cried out. How I woke trembling and wet. With every word, my body remembered. The heat. The ache. He didn't speak. But I felt him listening. When I stopped, I was breathless.

I read and raised my brow at Alpha Enzo. “Punishment? What kind of punishment are we talking about here?” I asked, not believing I had involved myself in such a mess. Alpha Enzo’s lips curled into a smile. “Keep reading,” he urged, and I swallowed hard before going back to the document. “Punishments include spanking, kneeling, and sexual tension and torture,” I read aloud, glaring at him. “You shouldn’t worry about that. I won’t do anything to harm you,” he smirked while my frown deepened.

Clara grabbed a wet wipe out of its pack and cleaned Christine's anus, her slender finger almost slipping into Christine’s now dilated anus. Christine moaned. Fernandez meted the enema to her and again she had to go at the third time. He insisted on reaching the fifth and Christine wriggled again as he kept going till the fifth. She was so pressed, she couldn't even stand up. “Mngh… ah… fuck… I can't move doctor Fernandez.” She moaned and squeezed the white sheets tight, lying to the side with her eyes closed shut. “Don't worry. Nurse Clara, please direct this to her butt so she can poop in it” he said and handed the lady the empty bucket with the locked tap nozzle. He stood and peeled Chris

He keeps going, and it seems like hours has passed. "Don't you come, baby girl. This is a punishment. I don't care how wet you are. You are not allowed to orgasm." The whip hits, and I scream, saying four. I keep the penny against the wall. There is about twenty on the floor by the time we reach six, and I still have the penny in place. I suck at this punishment, I enjoyed it, but I sucked at it simultaneously. I feel his hand palming my ass, and my legs shake.

She looked down at the floor and I saw a tear roll from the end of her nose. "'Please, Luke' is not your safeword. Lift your leg onto the toilet seat or I'll use a different solution." She lifted her leg and I could see her knees trembling. I inserted the enema nozzle and she jerked as if the solution had hot pepper in it. Actually, I used a bit of peppermint along with a mild soap and warm water; it wouldn't hurt at all. I opened the valve. "Hold it in. I'll tell you when you can relieve yourself." Her tears turned to soft hiccups. I really thought she'd cave by now, but her stubborn brain was blocking her desire to end the humiliation. I moved her to the toilet and sat her down. Turning my

I can truthfully say that I am not a fan of enemas, and if anything keeps me on the straight and narrow, an enema punishment would definitely be one of them. I have to admit that I do feel a bit lighter and less bloated, but the cramps that come with the procedure are not something that I prefer to do. Now, the way that Jace is taking charge and being his sexy Dominant self, punishing me in that awful way, and threatening me with ginger root, yep, I’m so horny for him that I’m happy to climb onto the bed and let him stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.

“A dog is shameless because it knows nothing about its nudity. Those street classes who walk along the road and lanes in the nude are shameless to kill the oncoming innocent young ones by abortion. Last week, an international journal and American democrat carried shocking news: one woman in her early forties gave to bed a bouncing baby boy, instead of nurturing the child she threw the child into the pit. Seeing that the child’s crying would expose her iniquity, she boiled water to a high degree centigrade and poured it into the pit, and the child died immediately. When the force authorities apprehended her and interrogated her over the cruel crime, she said that the child would make her old

A single chair sat in the center, tall-backed and austere, as though designed for judgment. “Sit,” he said, his voice steady, leaving no room for hesitation. I did. My legs pressed together, hands fidgeting in my lap. He circled me slowly, like a predator measuring its prey. “The Punishment Room is not about pain, Evelyn. It’s about truth. Shame is the chain we drag behind us in the outside world. Here, we turn it into something else. Something beautiful. Do you understand?” I nodded faintly, though I wasn’t sure I did.

He asked. Punish, what a soft word for the thing that happened to me. I nod though. A punishment is a punishment no matter the severity. “You could say that. The punishment for consorts is a little weird. We are always taught to always, and I mean always, reflect on our actions. We have a reflection room. A small room not more than 5 feet wide. Fit for just one person. It was full of mirrors, different lengths, different sizes. We had to think in there for days and reflect. You would think it was nothing out of the ordinary, but it gets to you. Especially since there was no light there, only a small window. We don’t get to eat while we’re in there. Hunger, isolation, and mirrors aren’t the b

It felt as if a thousand rusty saws were tearing at my nerves, severing them one by one. It was a top-grade, black-market poison, designed to shatter the body's pain defenses and drive its victim mad with agony until they could only speak the truth. An injection of this dosage would cause irreversible brain damage before the heart finally gave out. It was the ultimate punishment, reserved for the Mafia's most hardened traitors. The liquid spread through my veins like fire. But I didn't struggle. Instead, I felt a sense of peace, of a great burden being lifted. Let them see. Let them see what I've done for them in my twenty-some years.