WaterWay -- Chapter 4
Shower Power
By: WaterLuv@etzine.com   Copyright 1996, by ET!zine   All rights reserved

Jazmand's mincing walk to the bathroom was a study in enema seductiveness.  She was bent slightly forward, swaybacked, belly distended, ass displayed prominently behind her, as in the sexually submissive posture adopted by apes in the presence of a larger, more dominant member of their clan.  Jazmand was a thing of the primeval forest, submission, dominance, the never ending story.  She relished the appeal of her enema-engorged body, and played it to the hilt as we steadied her shaking legs and helped her to the toilet.  I kissed the back of her neck, and you kissed her full on the lips, those lips so fragrant with your own intimate perfumes.  You traced the swell of her belly with your hand as we eased her body down onto the padded toilet seat.

Jazmand would have liked us to stay with her.  In such a state of arousal, nothing at all seemed dirty or off limits to Jaz.  She would have your kisses, your hands massaging her turgid tummy and aching tits as she spewed forth the hot water I'd injected into her.  She would have taken my aching cock into her luscious lips and drank from it as instinctively as a hungry infant suckles its mother's pap.  She would have had her hands full of the wetness between your legs.

For Jazmand, the expulsion of an enema in the witness of her Master or Mistress was the ultimate act of submissiveness.  This was the most private of moments.  Everything about her would be on display.  The sight of her body racked by cramps.  The spurting, plopping, farting sounds.  The fetid smell of enema water spraying from her anus.  This was her proof -- her badge of courage -- the absolute demonstration of how she would humiliate herself if it pleased her Master, and now her Mistress, to have her do so.

Yes, she would have welcomed our continued presence.  She would have shown us how her belly tensed as each new cramp squeezed another burst of murky water from her core.  She would have shown us how she liked to rock from side to side on the toilet, her fingers gently moving across her enflamed sex with each sway.  She would have directed our eyes to her swollen nipples and engorged areola, straining outward from her chest as if reaching for attention . . . Reaching for lips to suckle.  She wouldn't care that you saw her draw her free hand to her nose, inhaling again and again, drinking in the heady perfume left when her fingers had sunk into your hot pussy.  All of this Jazmand would have willingly displayed had we stayed with her to witness the wonder of it.

But staying was not part of the plan.  We would adjourn immediately, shutting the door of the soundproof bath.  The room had a ventilation system that would well serve a submarine.  The stench of Jazmand's surrender wouldn't reach us.  The noise of her debacle we would not hear.  The beauty of her prostration would be lost to our eyes.  Or so she thought as we turned toward the bathroom door.  Lest she feel too much loss at our parting, we stopped at the portal for a deep, passionate kiss, you and me.  And with my hands all over your gorgeous ass -- opening your hips to display your rosebud to your lesbian lover -- I turned to Jaz and told her of the next step in her ordeal.

"Jazmand, Mary and I will leave you alone to expel your enema, dear.  But make a sexy show of it.  This room is equipped with hidden cameras.  Your every sound and act will be recorded, and the instant replay will have a prominent role in an upcoming act, so do a smashing job of it, my darling," I said, winking to her as we withdrew.  

[Continue to caress yourself as defined in the paragraphs below.  All the time, let your imagination bring me as close to you as my words can define.  Know that my imagination has me standing right there, in heat over every move you make, sharing my most intimate dreams with you.]

We moved only one door down the hall to the adjacent bath.  There, I set you before me on a latex covered massage table.  Spreading your legs apart, I drew into you and locked my hungry mouth over yours in a kiss that sucked the wind out of you in a deep, breathy sigh.  My kiss was full of all the passion the evening's adventure had fired in my loins.  The fire raged from me to you, and you reflected it back in to me even hotter.  My hands traced down your hairline, your neck, your back and the twin melons of your lovely ass.  The kiss drifted on for ages.

When I broke away, it was to drop down to my knees, my face near your inflamed sex.  But my visit was not to find a new site for my kiss, at least not now.  I reached into a cabinet in the table, and withdrew an enema syringe.  It was a 2 quart type, much like the drug stores sell.  It was unremarkable save for being made of beautiful pink rubber with a long, matching pink hose.  The nozzle, however, was a different matter.  It was an exact copy of the one you watched disappear into Jazmand's receptive rear.  

[Get out your enema syringe.  From here on, just follow this chapter.  Let the action serve as your instructions.]

<TEFLON14.GIF>
Engineering Drawing of WaterWay Nozzle

I made a show of explaining the merits of the nozzle.  "If you'll recall, this custom enema bone is 14 inches long instead of the diminutive 5 inches of the standard douche nozzle," I declared in deliberately technical jargon.  "Its length leaves plenty sticking out to grab and ass-fuck you even when it's bottomed out in your pretty rear.  It flares at its end like the douche nozzle, but it's double the standard nozzle's diameter.  It has only one flute to the douche pipe's four, and two holes in that flute, so that its spray is concentrated in a tiny area.  The concentrated flow means that the nozzle gives a strong sensation of squirting into the sensitive lining of your rectum.  But I altogether digress, and I know you are anxious not to hear about this tool but to feel it spurting up your pretty rear." [I know you probably don't have one like this, but use a standard douche nozzle, and lots of imagination.]

"Here, let's get these confining clothes off you.  I want you to wear this black-silk gown.  It's really beautiful, filmy and free.  It will leave plenty of room for your midsection to expand, and expand it will," I teased.  [Undress.  Put on a nightgown that's silky, filmy, and has plenty of room for your belly to distend.  And remember, you asked for this. <smile>]

"Excellent.  It looks absolutely stunning on you, Mary.  A perfect backdrop for your light complexion, your blond hair, and your pink syringe.  Now, go to the sink, dear, and run the water till it's nice and hot.  There.  That's it.  Now set the hot and cold so the water is very warm, just comfortable to leave running on your wrist.  Got it?  Good.  Now fill your syringe with two quarts of that very-warm water," I instructed.  [If you have serious problems with water absorption from enemas, then mix in 2 tablespoons of baking soda and 2 teaspoons of salt.  Otherwise, plain water is best for this scene.]

"Perfect.  Now take your enema bag over, and hang it on the shower head.  Great.  You're almost ready.  Come here.  Let me give you a big kiss for such a splendid job.  Do you have any idea how utterly sexy you looked, getting everything ready?"

I kissed you long and deep this time, letting my hands roam over the voluptuousness of your silk-clad body.  You responded, melting into my embrace, opening yourself to me like a magnificent anemone . . . Flawless beauty -- drawing in her prey.  Would you completely absorb me, make me a part of you?  What better fate could there be?  Drunken with your kiss, lost, no longer able to hold on to my own identity.  Yes, I would have to yield to the undertow.  

No!  Swim at right angles to it.  Don't enter the watery grave yet.  There is work to be done.  An enema to be given.  I want to live, to stay separate long enough to watch the romance of your enemaing yourself for me.  Then -- after that -- who knows?  Maybe we'll kiss again and this time the current will sweep me totally away, forever to be alive only as some part of your perfect flesh.

But there was the world of reality to reenter.  Such a rude shock after the nirvana of touching you, tasting your fresh mouth.  I handed you a large jar of Vaseline.  "Here, Mary, you'll need some lubricant." With those words, I broke the spell you'd so skillfully woven.  Privately, I wondered, Did you know how close you had drawn me to -- to what?  I do not know.

Back in reality, you stepped to the tub and pulled the nozzle from its resting place in the open mouth of the syringe.  In my weird mind, I imagined the bag shooting a nasty, jealous glance at you.  It resented your taking its prize from within it and preparing to place it in yourself, instead.  For your impertinence, it would pump your bowels achingly full of hot water.

With trembling hands, you scooped up a large blob of Vaseline on your index finger and lovingly coated the length of the huge douche pipe.  You lingered over the task, thrilling to the touch of the slippery tube, thinking how it would feel as it slid home in your ass and poured out its warm, cleansing contents into your waiting insides.  Content with your job, you turned to me for the word to drive the pipe home.

"Mary, haven't you forgotten something?" I asked.

Your questioning look told me you were not sure what I meant.  "Lubricate yourself, too, Mary," I instructed, relishing the blush these nasty words brought to your sweet face.  "Bend at the waist, just as before.  Throw your gown up over your back to expose your pretty heinie to me.  Yes, just so.  Now, Mary, take another big scoop of Vaseline on your finger.  Rub it all around your asshole, honey.  Beautiful.  Delicious.  Now, open yourself with your other hand, and slide that greasy finger up in you.  Further, all the way in, dear.  We want you well lubricated before we start.  Perfect.  Move that finger all around up inside yourself.  Massage those muscles till they are totally relaxed and ready for what's to come.  Or should I say what's to cum?"

"OK, Mary, that's enough, sweetie.  We don't want you going off like a skyrocket before the main event even begins.  Come over here."

You straightened, letting your gown slide back down over your well-lubed opening.  You walked back over to me, caught up in the spell of the procedure.  I took your hand in mine, the one you just used to so thoroughly lubricate your anal region.  I brought it up to my face and kissed your open palm, taking in the smell from inside your bottom.

"Ah-ha, Mary, you do need an enema don't you.  There's fecal matter on that finger.  It wouldn't do to have your rear passage full of waste.  It would certainly interfere with things to come."

Blushing crimson, you watched as I cleaned your finger with a tissue.  With that done, I grasped the hem of your gown and drew it slowly up your legs, up your torso and over your head, leaving you standing nude, beautifully ready, before me.  "Now, Mary, go back to the tub.  Step in and face away from the fixtures.  That's a girl.  Take that well-greased nozzle and slide it slowly up inside your ass, just to the depth that feels best to you.  Yes.  Beautiful.  That's lovely beyond words, honey.  You are so responsive to it."

"Let it sit there a moment, holding it in place so the slippery thing doesn't slide back out.  Now open the clamp.  I want you to take this enema slowly, dear.  The moment you feel an orgasm creeping up, turn the thing off and concentrate on holding off till your enema is all done."

"Yes.  You're making great progress.  God, how I want to come hold you while you do this.  Or to switch places.  It looks so sexy.  And you've taken over half the bag, now.  That's a good girl.  Take every drop for me.  See if you can hold on and take every last drop for me.  Try for all you're worth.  Stop the flow whenever you need to, but do take the whole thing, darling."

"Oh, Mary, you're doing so well," I said, urging you on.  "Do take the whole enema for me.  We need you really clean.  And you know how wonderful you'll feel once you're emptied of all that trash and water.  Mary, I just have to see you with a full two quarts bulging in your belly.  I want to see what you'd look like pregnant.  So pretty.  So rounded and fertile.  Such an Earth-Mother symbol, like those carvings of the ancient fertility Goddesses.  So female."

"You make me want to be your mother, Mary.  Your mother would take you to the bathroom and make certain that you got cleaned out real good.  She'd teach you to submit so someday you would know how to rule, to bring forth new life and train that newborn in the ancient ways.  Mary, if your mother tells you to take it all, you can.  Mom knows what's best for her little girl.  You can do it, honey.  Just a little bit more now.  Breathe deeply.  That's a good girl.  Bend your back a little and let that heavy tummy sag.  That's my good girl.  Take every drop for mommy."

My surreal patter had its desired effect, distracting you enough to let you take the whole bag.  The gulping sound from the syringe hanging above your head signaled your success.  But before I could even congratulate you, in walked our dear Jazmand, fresh from dumping her first enema.  In an instant, she took in the proceedings.  She knew our goal was to increase your capacity, and that we'd reached a first plateau along that way.  She loves you, Mary, and she feels quite a flush of lust for you as well.  Her first inclination was to rush straight to your side, to shower you with kisses and with praise.  But she is also a well-trained submissive, uncomfortable in any other role.  She looked to me for permission to approach you.  

I nodded my assent, but added, "Mary is also your Mistress now, Jaz.  You must have her permission too.  Ask her what you may do for her."

Even Jazmand's dusky skin could not hide the flush that spread over her face.  Now she realized that she was not the only one who'd picked up on the significance of bottoming to a bottom.  She was to call Mary -- enema-submissive Mary -- her Mistress.  She loved it from the bottom of her heart.

"May I come kiss you, and help you hold your enema while it cleanses you, Mistress Mary?" Jazmand pleaded.  The sincere desire burning from her eyes would have melted through any wall of resistance.  And your desire to again feel her expertly loving touch was equally powerful.  There was no question what your answer would be.

"Of course, Jazmand," you replied.  "I'd love to have you both here with me."  With that, we both stripped off our last garments and stepped into the tub with you.  Jazmand planted her mouth immediately over yours, kissing you with a fire and passion I've never seen in her before.  The mingled perfume of all your most intimate spots was still fresh on her face, and the two of you reveled in it.  I kissed the hairline at the nape of your neck, trailing kisses down to your shoulder, along your back, down your hip to near where the monster enema-bone split your silky ass-cheeks.  With my face so close to your core, I stroked the fullness of your belly, ballooned out with enema water.  The image of the fertility Goddess was now even clearer in my mind.  How far could worship in this cult take me?  Over the edge?  

Already my cock was straining painfully, as if trying to grow long enough to penetrate you even as I knelt behind your lovely form.  Jazmand's kisses just kept delving deeper into your soul.  Her hands teased loving sighs from your breasts.  Her fingers stroked back your hair.  Her eyes gazed into yours.  She was a thirsty desert traveler, parched, weary, crawling, and here, before her were these lovely, twin pools of the most sparkling, crystal-clear water.  Headfirst she dove, her long tongue playing with yours as the wetness of your kiss mounted in uncontrolled swirls.

Behind you, you felt my mouth actually kiss the enema bone sticking from you.  Your body involuntarily spasmed at the thrill of the tickling feeling, the knowledge of the decadent deed being done.  

I turned on the prewarmed water and let the shower flow over us.  Some of the water entered the bag, hung on the shower head, and your enema began anew.  Jazmand broke away for a moment to see where this deluge was coming from.

"Unnnnnhhhh," you groan.  "I'm getting m . . . muuuuahhhh." Jazmand's renewed kiss stooped you from articulating the words.

As the second bagfull began to enter your bloated body, I moved between your legs and Jazmand's.  If she had claim to your Maybeline lips, I would take your love lips, and the enema bone could have your nether lips.  What a foursome we made.  Jazmand jousting with your tongue . . . Devouring you . . . Sucking wanton sighs from you . . . Moaning into your rushing, panting breath.  Me, running my hungry mouth over your sex . . . Finding each delicious part of you . . . Opening you . . . Merging with you . . . Letting your excitement pour into me.  The bag . . . Near full again as the warm shower streamed down on us all . . . Its mammoth bone was buried nearly to the hilt in you now . . . Your insides soooooo full.  So delightfully, painfully, pleasantly full.  

My tongue was now in its rhythm.  Into your love tunnel as deep as I could borrow, back out, dragging with it all the love juice freshly made in your overheated pussy.  Each trip, in and out, with the upper part of my tongue sliding oh-so-slithery across your hard little love button.  In-out, in-out, in-out, in-out, on and on forever.  And that damnable enema, just pouring more and more pressure into your over-stretched insides.  You had been in a state of semi orgasm for so long, but it finally went wild.  Your whole being was spasming around that nozzle deep in your core.  Love flowing into and out of every part of your body.  Water washing down, moistening your flesh for more.  You were near passing out when your awareness of the unbearable enema-pressure brought you down from the heavenly realm.  How many quarts, you couldn't be sure, but enough that, with each wave of ecstasy that swept through you, some was spurting out.  Fortunately the shower had kept all this reasonably hygienic, but you knew you must break away and release this massive load.

Jazmand and I helped towel you gently.  The distention of your abdomen told us that each move must be made with the utmost care and tenderness.  We guided you, shaking at the knees, as you made the few steps to the toilet.

We didn't know how you would feel about it, but Jazmand and I agreed that, if our true potential was to be reached, all intimate boundaries would have to be lowered.  We decided to stay.  With loving, kissing, massaging, hugs and a few squeezes, we would help you rid yourself of all the water and waste, and of any inhibitions that might be in the way of our full exploration of enema haven.
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