Author: Paddles

D/s FM, spanking, enema

Don certainly wasn't a 10, maybe only an 8, but the guys I have dated lately have not been 10s either. He was dressed well, but certainly didn't look rich. It may have been his eyes, because they had a mischievous twinkle that drew me in. Or it could have been his soft way of speaking that held my interest and made me want to hear more.

We met at a friend's party, and two hours later we had not spoken to anyone else. Still, when he said he was interested in light BDSM and wanted me to spank him, I was momentarily speechless. If it hadn't been for those eyes and that soft voice that made me want to get closer so that I could hear every word, I would have thought of a reason to leave. But I didn't. He continued by saying that since his mother had died when he was 10, that he had a fantasy of a beautiful woman to spank his bare bottom and “things like that.” This was not the game that I had wanted to play with him, yet he did have a cute butt and spanking it could be fun.

I asked what “things like that” was all about. He blushed bright red and looked around to see if anyone was near enough to hear. Then he said that he wanted a pretty lady to give him an enema. Again, it took me a while to reply. I had had an enema as a child and knew what it was, but I had never given an enema to anyone, even myself. Of course, I had never spanked a man's bare butt either. Still, the more I thought about it, the more excited I became. I don't know why, but thinking about playing with his butt was making me hot.

I may have had too many drinks or was just letting my emotions get away from me, but I said I would do it. We excused ourselves and took a taxi to his apartment. Don went to his bedroom and returned wearing nothing but a pair of jockey shorts. From his closet he produced an enema bag and a hairbrush. Don asked me to follow him to the bathroom where he gave step-by-step instructions on mixing in the soap and filling the bag.

I was starting to get in the spirit of this and told him to turn around while I pulled his shorts down. When he bent over to pick up his shorts, I laid a strong slap on his now bare butt. It was fun! I told him to pick up the bag and a jar of Vaseline and follow me to his couch. I could see my red hand print on his butt. He hung the bag from a large floor lamp. I told Don that he would be getting what he needed, starting with a good paddling. I said I would start by using my bare hand and then finish him off with the hairbrush. His only comment was, “yes, mother.”

I could see by his erection, that he was as excited as I was. I pulled my skirt up as far as my crotch to expose my bare legs and sat down in the center of his couch. Then I had Don lay across my lap with his very erect penis between my legs. I pulled my legs together to squeeze his penis between them. I told Don to count the strokes. Thirty with my hand and then thirty with the brush. I loved the feel of his soft butt cheeks under my hand but was glad to switch to the brush because my hand was getting sore.

When we were done, his cute little butt was very red and looked sore. He winced when I pried his cheeks apart and spread the grease in his crack. The nozzle he provided looked very large to me, but I kept pressing until it went into his anus and continued until it reached his prostate. I guess it was the pressure on his prostate that triggered his orgasm, because suddenly I could see his anus pulsing around the nozzle and I could feel the pulsing in his penis which was still firmly clamped between my bare thighs. The stain on his couch would be his problem.

As soon as the pulsing stopped, I opened the valve and started the flow. He started begging me to stop the water, but I knew that it was just an act and I squeezed the bag to make it flow faster. When the bag was empty, I explained that he would have to have another thirty strokes with the brush before I would remove the nozzle. I could tell from the way he was holding his breath, that the cramps were getting worse, but I insisted that he count all thirty strokes before I would remove the nozzle.

My arm was still tired from the last thirty strokes, so I delivered them slowly with long periods of watching his cramps and the way his anus struggled to hold the enema in. The nozzle would bob and twitch as his anus fought to hold in the enema. The hairbrush must have stung a lot because his butt was still a reddish purple. His penis which was still firmly clamped between my legs was hard and large again. Running my fingers lightly across his rump caused shivers to shake his whole body.

Don's anus quivered with each stroke of the hairbrush and I held his cheeks apart to provide a better view of the action. I was fascinated watching the muscles of his anus as each stroke smacked his butt causing spasms and quivering of the anus. I was glad he was doing the counting because I was lost in the experience.

He finally reached the thirtieth stroke. Before removing the nozzle I took pity on him and used it to massage his prostate again. I was surprised to feel the pulsing of his penis between my thighs and see the clenching of his anus as he produced a second orgasm. Before I removed the nozzle, I told Don that I would leave my phone number and that if he would take me for a nice dinner sometime we could do this again.

When I pulled out the nozzle and parted my legs to free his penis, he stood up and ran toward his bathroom. I let myself out and caught a cab home.