“I’m glad she didn’t.”
“Me too. I watched her use a dildo on Thomas. It looked very painful and not the pleasurable type of painful either.”
“Tell me about the enemas.”
“She loved to administer harsh, soapy enemas. She liked the pain they caused me.”
“Why?”
Was it my place to tell him about Cyndi’s demons? I looked at him and realized he wanted to know everything about me, and Cyndi was a part of who I was.
“Cyndi had an awful childhood. I think that’s one of the reasons she always has to be in control. Her mother was very dictatorial. She was a whole other story. I’ll save that for another time…or not. She ran her house with an iron fist. Cyndi was expected to move her bowels every day. If she didn’t, her mother administered a soapy enema to her.”
“Her mother had severe OCD and kept detailed diaries of everything Cyndi ate, drank, and did. She was weighed daily, and if she gained more than half a pound or lost more than a pound, she was put through an inquisition. She was also a ruthless disciplinarian. Every infraction of her rules carried a punishment.”
“Cyndi’s mother was knocked up out of the gate of losing her virginity. It was a shotgun wedding between two people who barely knew each other and eventually came to loathe the other. Her mother was going to ensure, at all costs, that her daughter would not get pregnant. She monitored Cyndi’s periods like clockwork, and if she was even a day late, she was put on the bed, had her spread her legs, and inspected that she was still a virgin. If she and I wanted to go to the movies or dance, she accompanied us and didn’t stand in the background. She was right at her daughter’s side, ensuring her virtue stayed intact.”
“Her father was no better. He blamed her for ruining his life. He let Cyndi know every day of her life that if it weren’t for her, he’d be the happy-go-lucky carefree bachelor he deserved to be.”
“They were killed in a single car accident, well, not really an accident. He was drunk and drove the car into a tree at full speed. The car exploded on impact, and they were killed instantly. A witness at the scene said they were fighting, and he deliberately killed himself and his wife. Cyndi was sixteen when it happened. She discovered after their deaths that the farm was in foreclosure. They were in severe hock and had tax issues. As the last living relative, she was responsible for the debt they had amassed.”
“Cyndi didn’t want to become a ward of the state, so Trina’s parents took her in until she finished high school. Trina was and still is Cyndi’s best friend. She is also our CPA. Who knows what would have become of Cyndi and I if her parents were still alive. They were so poisonous.”
“That tells me a lot about her nature. I’m sorry you’ve had to be the one she took her angst out on.”
I didn’t say anything for a long time.
“I feel so stupid,” I sighed, “It took you five minutes of listening to me tell you Cyndi’s story to figure her out. I’ve spent the past ten years living with her and more years than I can remember before that. I never drew a correlation between Cyndi’s childhood and the basis for how she treated our relationship. How could I have been so blind?”
“Come here,”
I rose and walked over to him. He took my hand and pulled me into his lap.
“You aren’t stupid or blind. You accepted Cyndi for who she was, warts and all. I think we all carry some scars from our childhood. A very unaffectionate father raised me. I never heard the words, ‘I love you,’ come out of his mouth. More than anything, I wanted to feel parental love. Instead, I always thought that he was fulfilling an obligation because he knocked up some nameless, faceless young woman.”
“Are you afraid of loving someone?”
Owen thought about my words. “I don’t know.” He took my hand in his. I do want to share my life with one special person. If that is love, then yes, I want to find it.”
“Perhaps you already have,” I said, staring at him.
“Yes, perhaps I have. I do know this much. I’m not scared of what I’m feeling.” Owen let our eyes stay locked together for a moment before he cleared his throat and changed the subject. “I want to administer an enema to you, but I don’t want it to be painful. I want you to enjoy it.”
“Oh, I enjoy enemas!” I said, my eyes lighting up. “I love being filled, the pressure on my prostate, holding it as long as I can, then expelling it in one surge. I’ve had orgasms from expelling alone.”
“Yes. Me too. But today, I don’t want you to cum from the enema.”
“That might be a little difficult. I haven’t cum since you left. With all the stress, little Fred here wasn’t in the mood. That’s why you keep seeing so many wet spots in the front of my sweats. Being around you makes me a dripping fool.”
“First, ‘little Fred’ isn’t so little, and I’d volunteer to lick you dry, but I’d like it if the next time you came, it was in my ass.” He said, smiling his innocent boy-next-door smile.
“Then you’ll have to stop getting me excited.”
He burst out laughing. I loved when he let loose with laughter. “That’s impossible. You are so fucking sexy I can’t keep my hands off of you.” He pushed me off his lap and stood up, holding his hands out to me. “Come with me. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. I want you so badly.”
Every part of my body was tingling.
For ten years, Cyndi put me on my hands and knees in the bathtub or shower and pushed an enema nozzle in my ass, opened the valve of her caustic soapy solution, and threatened if I let one drop drip, she’d punish me.
What Owen did was so different.
He had me lie in the middle of the guest room bed while he prepared the enema. The lights were dimmed, and he put on tranquil music that played softly in the background. When he returned to the room, he rolled an IV stand with a bulging two-quart enema bag hanging from it. It was part of the box of goodies he brought from St. Paul, but the other items would be for special times when no cameras were on us. The thought of toys and special times had me dripping with anticipation.
In his gentlest voice, he told me to roll onto my side away from him and pull my top leg up towards my chest. His hands were warm, almost like he’d run them under warm water or held them on a heated surface. Delicately, he ran his warm digit over my ass before he spread my cheeks ever so slightly.
“This is a little lubrication,” He whispered, “in a moment, I’m going to slip a flexible silicone nozzle into you. When you feel it, try not to fight it; relax and feel the smoothness of the nozzle as it goes further into you. Just imagine, soon, my lovely cock is going to be there, loving every minute of filling you. I can’t wait to feel my body pressed against yours with me deep inside of you. It will be the closest and most intimate feeling ever.”
His words relaxed me, and he’d slipped the nozzle in before I knew it. There was no pain, no resistance. I could barely feel it.
“You are going to hear a pumping sound, like when you are at the doctor, and he’s taking your blood pressure; there will be some pressure in your anus after that. This is a bardex. It’s an expandable small bulb, like a balloon, that will prevent the enema from leaking. I can feel the resistance when the bulb is inflated enough, but if it gets uncomfortable, let me know. Once the interior bulb is inflated, I will also inflate an exterior one. This will prevent the bulb and nozzle from slipping out of you.”