My wife Ellie was pregnant with our first child when I finally confessed to her my need to be dominated by a woman. She had just entered her second trimester, and her deliciously curved belly was beginning to bulge to the point that she'd had to take out the waist of all her clothes by about three inches. Her morning sickness had all but disappeared, but her breasts were beginning to swell somewhat, and she had started to complain about swelling in her ankles and feet. One morning, hitting the snooze button on the alarm one too many times, I rushed into the shower, shaved and dressed hurriedly, and rushed out the door for the commute to work, so late that I didn't even take the time to kiss her or stroke her burgeoning belly before I made my way to my car. That was my first mistake.

The work day was uneventful, until lunchtime came. Recognizing my act of neglect before work, I called Ellie, waiting two rings until she picked up on the other end.

"Hi hon, it's me," I said breathlessly, feeling my heart beginning to palpitate as I imagined her wrath and hurt feelings. "I just wanted to apologize to you for rushing out before giving you your morning sugar."

"No need to apologize, dear," she purred in a soft, seductive voice. "I have a surprise all planned that will help you remember just how much I need your affection now that my pregnancy's sending me into hormone shock every waking moment." Her words, spoken in an airy caress, caused me to squirm in my office chair as I felt my penis stiffening in anticipation of perhaps a sublime punishment at her loving, capable, assertive hands. "You don't have to work late tonight, do you?"

"No--the V.P. in my department is out of town at a manager's meeting, and he told me that no overtime was approved unless it was a dire emergency and I contacted him by phone or e-mail. So far, things have been smooth as glass, so I don't need the backup yet."

"Good--I'll see you at six then, honey." She blew a kiss over the phone and disconnected.

I hung up my phone and ate my lunch, looking over some paperwork as I did so.

As I strolled in the front door of the house about five minutes after six that evening, Ellie greeted me in a lacy, pastel blue maternity teddie and crotchless maternity panties that set off her auburn hair and emerald green eyes brilliantly. Throwing her arms around me for a tender welcoming hug, she met my lips with hers, insinuating her tongue lewdly into my mouth. "I've decided," she announced, "that the only way to prevent you from repeating your neglectful mistake of this morning is with an empathy-building routine." She began squeezing my asscheeks lasciviously, continuing, "I want you to go into the master bedroom, strip off all your clothing--including socks and underwear--and put on the garments I've laid out for you on the bed." She sent me away with a sharp slap to my backside.

Entering the bedroom, I whistled when I saw the coral maternity teddie and crotchless panties that awaited me on the bed, complemented by a waist-cinching garterbelt and fishnet hose of the same color. "How could she have guessed?" I asked myself. I had always secretly harbored a dream of finding a woman who would not only dominate me, but force me to wear her lingerie while serving her every sexual whim. I nearly tore the buttons off my business shirt in my haste to undress, and only after I'd put it in the laundry basket on the closet floor, along with my socks and underwear, hung up my suit, and put my shoes on an open shoe tree, did I look down to see my penis already swollen with lust and leaking preejaculate. I adjusted the garterbelt tightly around my waist, fastening the dozen hooks and eyes of the closure to the smallest opening, eased the hose up my legs, fastened the garters, then donned the panties and adjusted the teddy on my chest, belly, and upper hips.

"Finished, dear?" Ellie inquired from the adjoining bathroom. I could hear the sound of running water and paraphernalia being moved around.

"Yeah, but I'm afraid I'll cum in a minute and stain your little lacy panties with my naughty big prick."

"You'd better not, or I'll double your punishment. Now come into the bathroom and get down on your hands and knees."

I followed her voice, settling onto the carpeted floor with my fanny exposed to the cool air.

"Now drop your head to the floor and spread your cheeks as far apart as you can get them." She dropped to her knees behind me, caressing my quivering asscheeks with a rubber-gloved hand. Without warning, she began easing a lubricated index finger into my quivering anal sphincter, fucking it in and out of me, stretching my hole vigorously before withdrawing to add more lube to the fingers of the exam glove.

I felt my hole open wider as she eased two fingers into my bung, feeling the rate of preejaculate seepage from my penis increase considerably before she withdrew the fingers, slapped my rear sharply, and rose to cross the room.

She returned carrying a standard open-topped enema bag, to which a double inflatable nozzle nozzle was attached. "I've decided," she explained, "that the only way to build your empathy toward the discomfort I am already suffering from my pregnancy is to inflate your belly at least three times a week, until I go into labor, with a series of enemas." I looked up with trepidation as she hung the bag on the robe hook at the top of the bathroom door, took the inflatable nozzle in her right hand, and handed it to me, adding, "Hold onto this while I get some more lube." Before leaving my field of vision, she observed, "Take a good look at what's going to be inside your selfish rear end in a minute, and realize that you'll take every drop of this yummy solution before I deflate the balloons and let you evacuate." She fetched the tube of water-based lube, returned to my side, covered the nozzle copiously, and, aligning the narrow outer end with her right index finger, slid it deftly up my still-stretched bottom cheeks.

"Sweet Mistress Ellie, may I say something?"

"Only if you address me by my regal name--Queen Satana!" she snapped, getting fully into the character and spirit of the occasion. "Speak, lowly worm."

"I just want to say that this fulfills two of my most cherished fantasies--being dressed in your lingerie and getting a hydraulic invasion of my ass at your hands. I feel like I've died and gone to heaven."

"That's very good, slave." I heard a puffing sound as she inflated the inner balloon, causing it to grow huge inside my sphincter, then felt the outer balloon swelling to seal me completely before she released the clamp to begin my infusion. "Although you think this is heaven, I hereby announce your welcome to hell."

I felt the overly warm (almost hot, actually) solution begin to spread inside my empty colon. Within moments an excruciating cramp seized my intestines; I hiccuped, instantly nauseous. "Exalted Queen Satana," I gasped.

"Yes, maggot?" she inquired haughtily.

"What's in the water? I feel like I'm about to burst already." Resting my head on my left forearm, I began to rub my expanding belly in a futile attempt to ease my agony.

"Two quarts of 106o water, two ounces of Dr. Bonner's pepperminet Castile soap, and two ounces of epsom salts, mixed very thoroughly. Since you've been so full of shit lately, I figure you need a really thorough cleansing before I begin your empathy training." She reached under my expanding middle to rub me in slow circles, forcing the water to move higher into my colon. Occasionally, the inside of her right wrist grazed my still-tumescent dick, which still hadn't gone down despite the pain in my tortured guts.

I hiccuped noisily, then began to sob as the cramps spread higher and higher in my abdomen. "Queen Satana?" I begged.

"What now, unworthy vermin?" Her massage of my swelling tummy intensified to the point that she was kneading my tormented flesh a little too vigorously to be soothing.

"I feel like I'm about to vomit--the cramps are that bad." I continued to sob and hiccup, convulsive waves of peristaltic action overwhelming me from ribcage to crotch.

She relented and stopped my in-flow for a few moments, resuming her vigorous circular motion over my straining belly. "You're doing really good, slave. You only have about a pint or so left to go." She patted my expanding paunch gently, then rose to do some doctoring with the bag. I could hear her stirring something into the mix, and she observed, "I crushed up some Ibuprofen and added it to your treatment, just so the cramps won't overwhelm you totally." Then I felt the pressure in my soft center increasing as she raised the bag as high as she could, continuing, "At this point, it's best that I drain this into you as fast as possible, then I can give you a really proper massage so you can hold it the prescribed ten minutes."

Instead of returning her caressing hand to my bloating stomach, she picked up a large vibrator, turned it on to its highest speed, and began jabbing it forcefully into my distending abdomen. My nauseous hiccups returned, and I breathed a sigh of momentary relief when I heard her click the clamp closed. That didn't last long, however, for she soon resumed her electromechanical attack on my aching center. Just as I thought my colon would rupture from this rough treatment, I felt my dickhead swell and explode in a warm flush of ejaculation, my semen flying across the length of the bathroom floor.

She switched off the vibrator then, slapping my tush briskly with a hand still clad in an exam glove, and ordered, "Lick up every drop of your spooge before I get good and mad and make you hold your load even longer." I bent to my humiliating task, nearly gagging from my cramps by the time I had dampened the carpet in half a dozen spots with my slave's saliva. She bent down to inspect my work, then yanked me roughly to my feet.

From the top of the towel cabinet, she drew a battery-powered oven timer. "I'm setting it for twenty-five minutes. If you should degenerate into such a wimp that you begin asking me to let you expel before your time is up, I will pour in three more quarts of extremely warm water to which a half cup of glycerine has been added." She looked sternly into my eyes, her right hand fingertips poised lightly on my chest as she guided me to my feet. She handed me the bag and hose, giving me a gentle push to turn me in the direction indicated, ordered, "Go hang up the bag on that IV stand beside the massage table, then lie on the table, on your left side with your legs separated, both knees bent."

As I completed my task, she approached me, carrying a pitcher of steaming water with a slight oily sheen on the surface. "If you don't hold this load without complaining, you'll get three more quarts of the glycerine solution forced into your slutty belly." She patted my already distended belly and inquired, "And how do you think that would feel, at the end of twenty-five minutes? Will it have you crying and whimpering for the toilet? Will I see your face whiten as you try to control your nausea? Or will you just look at me imploringly, a plea for mercy in your eyes?"

She abruptly brought her right hand down in a sharp slap to my bloated middle, kneading me for a moment before declaring, "It's your choice, how you want to end this."

She began a slow massage of my stretched paunch. Mistress Ellie's soft hands over my bloated gut felt wonderful as they worked the glycerine up my colon toward the soapy load I was retaining. Ellie intensified her massage of my pregnant-looking abdomen, as if willing the solution to penetrate deeper and deeper inside me.

It was then that the first cramp hit; I writhed, I tried to moan, but the devastating shock of the chemical fist slamming into my delicate inner nerves took my breath away completely. I felt tears leap furiously to my eyes, and it was through blurred vision that I noted Queen Satana looking down into my eyes. I gave her my best imploring look and hiccupped against my nausea as she began to knead my distented tummy so roughly I thought I might explode.

Riding out the second wave of cramps, I began taking deep, gasping breaths, trying to restore my equilibrium. I felt Mistress's hands sliding gently over my middle, straying at times to circle the rigid circumference of my erect penis with the fingers of her right hand. Lost in sensory overload, I began to gag violently, and just then the timer bell rang. "I'm going to give you an abdominal massage for a few more minutes so the last of that yummy stuff can penetrate further and really do its work."

She turned me onto my back, straddling me so that her plump, meaty ass was perched over my thighs, facing me in the cowgirl position. She looked down as she eased her slick vagina over my bursting dick. "This way, we can fuck while I masssage the rest of that solution all the way up inside you."