Enemas, Beers, Writing, Scans and History

I have noticed quite a few new faces appearing here and to those folk who have just discovered me I would like say welcome and also point out that there is over a year's worth of postings in my archive which can be easily viewed using the archive pull-down menu device over in the sidebar on the right - it's probably the best way of getting a flavour of what this little site is all about.

Yesterday I did a little scribbling in a pub in Tottenham known as 'The Elbow Room' while waiting for an old chum to turn up. Then it was off to 'The Rochester Castle' a Wetherspoons pub in Stokenewington (all these exotic locations are in North London of course) to actually meet my mate. He had been somewhat delayed which turned out to be advantageous and you will doubtless be pleased to know that not only did I manage to re-write from memory the section of the new volume that I lost - and that I spoke about last time - but I also had time enough to extend and expand upon it.

Today I have done a little experimental writing, developing a new theme entirely (see below). I have also at long last dug out an old suitcase I have been meaning to get from the attic for some time now.; filled to the brim with old spanking mags and books it is and I have just started getting around to scanning some of that old stuff for your delectation and delight. A couple of said scans are here. They are reduced in size and resolution to suit web page publication and to make uploading quicker, but if anyone wants the full size versions I will email them with pleasure. In the fullness of time I will upload all the full size versions to my various PicasaWeb albums in any case.

Aunty's Enema Discipline

(A rough first draft taken from the upcoming new volume soon to join the INSTITUTIONALISED stable - probably)

The cold nozzle of the rubber tubing inching up inside her bottom, the teenage girl felt the muscles around her gently-rounded belly tightening.
This was a procedure that had once been preceded by a few swishing strokes of the cane thrumming through the air, the harsh crackling snap of a searing flame-tongued tawse or the ruthless crack of a supple leather belt - the latter would generally be doubled over and would brand the girls naked buttocks with its outline, the broad swollen stripes being punctuated longitudinally by a raised blister-like pattern where its holes fell.
Now she unconsciously raised her swelling peach-like bottom , as if offering it up willingly to the ingress of the wide-bore rubbery enema nozzle that was once more raping her backside; as it had the evening before… and the morning before that… and as it would continue to do, twice per day, for the foreseeable future.
She had been fiercely proud, this one; learning to curb and bridle herself had come slowly and painfully to her, but it had come nonetheless. An acceptable level of obedience had been achieved - now it would have to be perfected, honed and refined. This constant and repeated submission to the soapy urging of the enema was very much part of that refinement.
The girl had been quick tempered and prone to brusque outbursts; but the tight leash of discipline she now had the girl under was doing wonders in beating down and subduing that former volatility. She had taken her time with the girl; the luxuries and indulgences she had been used to had not been removed all at once but rather gradually and insidiously replaced by the privations she knew the girl detested. At each step it seemed as if deep down inside some part of the girl’s personality and character was being peeled away and discarded along with her increasingly limited freedom.
With a rising sense of satisfaction the uniformed woman had watched the girl struggling to squeeze her somewhat overly mature curves into the tight bottom-hugging white plastic enema knickers she always insisted the girl wear for these treatments. She had smiled to herself knowingly as the girl flinched, oh so prettily. Partly that faint grimace came about through the final snap of the elasticated waistband, once the girl had succeeded in kneading and moulding the excess flesh of her ample bottom into the intimately detailed glossy PVC covering. Partly the girl’s discomfort came from the leg elastic biting into the yielding flesh around those milky thighs of hers, but more importantly as far as Julia Soames was concerned, a major part came from the sense of humiliation that the garment seemed actually designed to engender.
The sanatorium-style examination table would have seemed hopelessly incongruous in a domestic setting had it not been for the Spartan furnishing and institutional-looking décor of this roped-off segment of Aunt Julia's home. This was a self-contained home-within-a-home; the plush carpeting of the rest of the house came to an end at the foot of the stair on the floor below, becoming hospital-style white cushioned linoleum once past a sturdy door habitually kept securely locked whereupon it climbed a short flight before spreading out across a skylight-lit landing and flowing into four small but sufficiently functional rooms, each nestling behind its own equally securely-locked door. The accommodation comprised a toilet, little more than a cubicle sufficient to house the pedestal and a bidet, a shower room that also contained what appeared to be a massage table but one that strangely had been furnished with a system of broad Velcro-fastening padded-nylon straps, and the girl's bedroom. This latter was a strangely frothy and flouncy concoction of girlish femininity seemingly completely at odds with the institutional flavour of the rest of this part of the house, other than for the bed which was a standard hospital bed - but one which hid under its soft pink flounce counterpane the padded leather cuffs and strong webbing straps of a humane restrained system as might have been found in any asylum. Then, of course, there was the room in which the attractively curvaceous girl now waited bottom-up on the white leather-topped examination couch.
The glossed plastic of the seemingly sprayed-on knickers trapped light in little puddles that served to emphasise the shadowed cleft whereat the back-seam dipped sharply down and inward, practically disappearing from view, and where the cleverly contrived construction while moulding the buttocks into an eye-pleasing heart shape simultaneously drew the swelling cheeks widely and quite lewdly apart. The eye was quite naturally drawn over the perfect mirror-sheen surface of white plastic coated globes, bringing the suggestion to mind of two over-inflated balloons sat side by side, and down on, along the tightly-lined plastic valley to where the slippery fabric again pressed outwards, puckering and pulling into a glossed and detailed outline of intimate lips already moistening in the unrelenting humidity of their covering. Somehow this thin yet tough PVC sheaving managed to reveal even more intimate detail than if the girl had actually been naked - something she was only too keenly aware of and that brought colour to her cheeks even before a procedure that humiliatingly took control from her of one of her most basic bodily functions.
At the centre of the back-seam of these purpose designed knickers the plastic thickened and turned inwards for a couple of centimetres, thus forming a semi-rigid sleeve that connected with the outside world by way of an elastic-circled sphincter of plastic fabric mirroring the puckered pink flesh beneath into which the sleeve was designed to worm its way. This feature was customarily aided in its purpose by having been liberally coated with a medical lubricant beforehand and once in place it was simplicity itself to introduce the big black ribbed rubber enema nozzle into the girl's backside, from between who’s swelling plastic coated buttocks the length of red rubber tubing now protruded so obscenely. Copyright Gath P Toyntanen 2009