On a beautiful summer day last week, I administered some strong discipline to a dear boy who had been caught doing something disobedient.  While he is certainly a grown man, long past the age of consent, he was just a boy to me, and a foolhardy one at that.

This is a cautionary tale for anyone who feels like disobeying a powerful woman.

My submissive and respectful client understood the punishment he was about to receive and ALL elements of the session were consensual.  But that does not mean they were very pleasant for the punishee to endure.

I made him disrobe in front of me.  No backtalk, no demurring.  I ordered him to bend over the wooden prayer bench and think of his misdeeds.  He did so without complaint.  He turned his head around when he heard me open up the jar of suppositories.  Then, he knew his fate when he heard me put on a latex glove.  He turned back to face front, and steadied himself for what was to come.

The glycerin suppositories had a beautiful unearthly glow, like a moonstone has, a little cloudy pyramid-like cylinder that I plucked from the jar and put up his ass.  I administered lube appropriately.  And then I plucked out another and another and another, pushing them with my delicate forefinger up his naughty behind.  I asked what the usual amount he could handle was.  Then I doubled that number, ordering him to count out as I placed each suppository in the one spot he was probably hoping they would not go.  With each suppository, I could feel the others still inside him, and as time went on, and the glycerin dissolved, the slippery feeling up his ass grew more pronounced.  The slickness made it easy to slide in more and more of them.  To his dismay, I was enjoying my work.

Poor dear.  I then made him stand up.  He looked around the room nervously, as if he were struggling not to speak or complain.  I stood looking at him.  I tapped my foot and thought how delicious it might be to make him get on the floor and kiss my shoes.  But I decided that could wait for another time.  His ass had half a jar of suppositories up it, and the merciful thing to do involved a trip to the bathroom.  I put down the half-empty jar of suppositories and with a wave of my arm, ordered him into the bathroom.  He walked barefooted down the hallway, and I followed him close behind.  We stood in the bathroom filled with sunlight.  He looked down at the floor when he saw the look in my eyes.

"It's time for the second phase of your punishment," I told him.

His eyes got wide.  "You mean, there's more, Mistress Aubrey?"

I nodded.  I held up an oversized enema bag and smiled a crooked little smile.  My heels clicked against the bathroom tiled floor as I took the enema bag to the gleaming white sink.  "Sit on that toilet and expel the suppositories, so that I can administer your first enema."

"My first enema?" he said quietly.  He sat on the toilet, as instructed, and did his best to follow my orders.

His obedience was pleasing to observe.  But I was feeling an inner need to punish him more.  He had misbehaved, and this was what he deserved.

I checked the temperature of the water.  Not too hot, not too cold.  When it was just right, I filled the bag up.  But even at half full, it was groaning and bulging, and I knew it might be too strong of a pressure in his ass, if I filled it to the brim.

"Get down on your hands and knees on the floor!"  He saw the glint in my eyes, and quickly scrambled off the toilet, flushed it, and was on his hands and knees before you could say "garden gnome gone missing".

I felt a peaceful sense of power and control as I pushed the end of the enema into his open ass.  The glycerin suppositories and earlier use of lube made it very easy for the enema nozzle to go in.  I turned the knob, and felt the water start to enter his body.

It took quite a while for the enema bag to empty out, the water flowing down as I held the bag high up overhead.  It flowed through the white plastic tube and disappeared up his ass, and he mumbled a little about the sensation.

I made him stand up, and pondered if he was ready for his second.  But the look on his face told the tale -- I pushed him down onto the toilet and he expelled the enema loudly, with an embarrassed, even mortified look on his naughty face.  I tried not to laugh, but a brief snicker got the best of me.  He started to flush with embarassment.

The second enema was even more fun.  Watching him squirm, and knowing he was not going to get out of my grasp until his punishment was complete .... ah, a perfectly fun time.  He voided himself after the second enema, and released a long, slow sigh of relief.

"But I'm not done with you yet, you know."

In a soft voice he said, "But mistress, I've done as you've asked."

"Of course you have.  But I'm not done with you yet."

I wanted to pull him up off the toilet by his ear -- but that might have seemed, well, a bit too old-fashioned.  But to lead into a nice old-fashioned caning, it might have been suitable.  Instead, I waved him up off the toilet, made him flush, and then marched him out of the room, with me behind him.

I had him kneel down on the plush carpeting.  He trembled a bit as he saw me pull a cane out of one of my toyboxes.  "This will do nicely, I think," I said.

He gulped and looked down.  He was smart.  He knew that to complain, or otherwise try to put off the inevitable would only delay the reward of having the pain stop.

I drew my arm up, way up high over his already-tormented ass. I brought it down swiftly on the curvy, meaty part of his quivering ass.  It immediately made a red stripe.  I did it again.  And again.  And again, each time aiming for a fresh spot on his ass, to make it one large map of redness.  And with the hard downward strokes, I made his punishment complete.  I had disciplined his ass in three separate ways, each with their own kind of torment:  the half-a-jarful of suppositories taught him what it was to be full of gleaming glycerin, his ass stretched wide; the second torture, the two big enemas, taught him that I could take complete ownership over his body, inside and out; and the third and final ass torment taught him that pain is sometimes the only final way for a strong woman to make her point with the hopeless male creature.

When I was through caning him, his ass was already several shades of red and purple.  I pulled my glove off and handed him the cane.  I had not broken it (as I had done in a session described at an earlier time on this blog).  He had survived three kinds of nasty on his ass with admirable stoicism and obedience.  "Here, I want you to take this home, to remember this session by" I growled.  He took it from my hands.  He said something about it being too large to fit in the bag he had brought.  "So what?" I said.  "Are you afraid someone might ask about it?"

"NO, no, Mistress" he said quickly.  "It's just that...."

"I want you to take it, to remember the need for obedience by."

 He bowed his head and consented.  "Good boy" I said.

And he had been a good boy indeed.  For now.