Chapter 4

Love Is a Pain in the Ass

"I'd resolved to give Lester a going-over he'd never forget this time. Even though we were on the road, away from our mansion where I have every instrument of torture I desire to use on my slave, I'd still be able to devise something to make him squirm. Besides, it was sometimes a refreshing thing to be away from home, especially since he spends almost all of his time in the hospital room. I suppose I'll have to fill in some of the details. After all, not everyone choose to spend most of their life in a hospital room ... especially if they're not sick. Lester's not sick.... Well, I suppose you might say that he's sick in the head. He just needs a nurse around all the time to take care of him.

"The way I met him was that he used to come to this hospital where I worked. I was head nurse of one of the wings. He always took a private room. He was loaded-rich, I mean ... still is or I wouldn't be around. Could have had all the beauties he wanted, but he goes for hefty girls like me."

(Note-Lester's wife Betty, who is giving this narrative, is 5'2" tall and weighs over 230 pounds-hefty is a mild euphemism.) "He'd never married, afraid women were after his money. Of course they were-I've had at least half of his property signed over to me. He doesn't work ... his father made a fortune in mining and Lester left it to the corporation to look after all business matters. We travel to different parts of the globe several times a year ... only time I can get him out of his hospital room. But I'm getting away from the point.

"He used to check into this exclusive private hospital a couple of times a year. I recognized that he was a hypochondriac right off, and realized that masochism underlies the problem. Only I don't think he was fully aware of what a / masochist he was ... masking the truth from himself through his hypochondria. When I found out that he was a millionaire I vowed that I'd find a way to make him more aware of his condition ... or at least play it so that he would relinquish control to me.

"He always complained of abdominal obstruction when he checked in, and we'd run him through all the tests ... barium treatments, GI series-the whole shot. Always comes up the same-nothing. But who's going to turn away such a good, willing customer.

"It was when I was giving him an enema one day that I noticed an erection and decided that he had an anal thing. I was very casual, collecting my information from him slowly, but I was able to gather that he'd been a sickly child and that his parents had hired a succession of nurses to look after him. Apparently one of the nurses realized that much of his illness was put-on, and would punish him by giving him enemas. And he got hung-up on them.

"Armed with this information, I proceeded to put my plan into action. He seemed to be attracted to me anyway-his childhood nurse had been hefty too. So I used my advantage wisely, playing around with him carefully until I seized the opportunity to seduce him one day ... dominating him completely in the bargain. Being that he'd hidden behind his shyness for fear of women for so long, he was completely taken by me, and asked me to be his bride. We set up headquarters in his mansion the next week. My plan had worked. No longer did he have to go to the hospital to suffer in half-truths. Now he could get all the abuse he wanted with no pretensions, no pulled punches, right at home. We'd equipped his bedroom as if it were a hospital room ... more about the details of that later.

"One other thing I think I should mention before continuing that was interesting to me at any rate. We were both born on the same day, in the same hospital (not the one I worked in, but one over three hundred miles from our present home) within an hour of each other. That way I couldn't help but feel that he was born to serve me. He'd arrived something like ten minutes after me. The funny thing is that we never met until adults. We were both thirty-three when we married four years ago. Yes, to top it off, we got married on our birthday. I thought I'd throw it in to show you 'True Cuntfession' type fans who go for that shit that I have some feelings of sentiment in me. After all, you won't see much of it from here on in. I'm sentimental about things like that... dates, buildings, bus fumes and the like. But not about Lester. Let's get back to the part where he's about to get his, shall we? The fucking worm deserves some pounding about now.

"When we're traveling, this time to England where kinkiness began, and we have to travel light, I usually simplify my routine with Lester, wanting to get away from the hospital atmosphere of home for a while. At home, it's always the hospital bit. I'd like a little more variety, but he does have control over just how I control him. For now anyway. He has the loot so it's up to him how he wants to get his lumps/bumps/thumps.

"I run the road show, because I don't really like to fool around with all the objectry he does ... it's mainly his thing after all. I do enjoy my sadistic mistreatment of him, but I believe I could do without men for the rest of my life. I'm just hanging around for the time his hypochondria turns into reality, serious reality-like when he dies and I get all the loot.

"So I just want to do it and get it over with whenever possible. In the hotel that night, I just tied him down with some light restraint straps I fashioned from rawhide thongs for traveling. The hospital type that we use at home are too heavy and bulky for traveling. I tie him spread-eagle to the bed with the thongs, his butt elevated by a couple of pillows so that it's arched just right for my purposes. Then I gag him since we are, after all, in a hotel ... mustn't let his screams attract undo attention. I have one of those ball and strap gags ... the ball forced into his mouth and held in place by the strap. No way anything but muffled groans can get past it.

"Telling Lester what a filthy, dumb shit he is-this part is easy for me and there's no acting necessary-I pick up my riding crop and go over to the bed. I tell him that he's going to be whipped as I strap on a dildo in anticipation of what will follow our session. Of course, both of us are nude for this session, although at home I have to go through the whole routine with the nurse outfit. Picking up the crop, a nice supple one, I deliver the first stroke, getting plenty of wrist behind it to give it just the right snap as it draws a line of red fire across his jiggling, fat buttocks. If you think I'm hefty, you should see him ... tops three hundred. Hope he gets it with a heart attack. I encourage him to stuff his guts when he eats ... and keep my fingers crossed. Someday .... "By this time, I've drawn several dozen weals across his smarting butt, a couple of them broken and bleeding. I'm fairly casual about this part, usually smoking a cigarette while I'm doing this. By now he's going through all sorts of strange spasms with each stroke, his back and legs straining at the bonds in a vain effort to free himself. I end it off with a couple of real hard cuts: Whuittt-whuittt! That always brings a moan, screams if the gag isn't on. Then I throw the crop down and move down to the bed, straddling his tortured thighs. If I've still got a cigarette, I might mash it out on his ass, trying to find the area that has been the most tortured ... a place where the skin has broken, to grind it out. Or maybe I'll just stick the butt up his ass, laughing as I listen to his moans and watch the crazy spasms ... hear the sizzle of flesh, the smell of burning humanity ... all very exciting, I'm sure.

"Not bothering With any lube this time, I ram that fat plastic dildo right into him, adjusting the strap just right to the desired angle. This really is tops! Shows just how inferior men are. I don't bother to ease it in gradually. There is a lot of resistance getting it past his sphincter muscle without the lubrication, but once I push past it, I tear all the tissue that is stupid enough to be in my way until I've got that cock in clear up to the hilt.

"I make like a big man and really sock it to his behind, pumping my hips with all the weight I can muster behind them. Most of the time I can't wait for later ... like to get a head job from him or something. (I never, never allow my slave to put his nasty thing in my wonderful cunny.) So I'll just reach down around the dildo and put my hand up against my clit and rub it off while I pound it to him.

Self-gratification is the best way anyway ... if a man is all you've got as an alternative. In fact, women aren't all that great to diddle with either. I just prefer me ... saves a hell of a lot of bother. I just pump him until blood is oozing from his tortured rear, or until I come - whatever's first. And that's our way of doing it in a hotel room ... or anyplace you don't want to make a lot of noise and arouse the suspicions of others."

Most everyone has experienced the minor forms of sado-masochism at one time or another. It is hardly surprising since we all have a degree of it to contend with as an ancestral throwback to the laws of the jungle. But most confine even the mildest forms to things that will arouse their partners without harming them. The love bite, given in the heat of passion, is one such example. But there are many who overflow the bounds of good sense, who must place themselves on the very brink of death and severe humiliation to seek release. These are the sadomasochistic.

The masochist enjoys receiving pain, the sadist in applying it although the phenomenon of both is often apparent in the same individual. That is to say that someone who gives the pain one minute may enjoy receiving it the next.

Even among those who are strictly the dominant partner, the primary gratification is believed to derive from an empathetic feeling stirred within them that associates with the pain being experienced by the person whom they are punishing.

Among those who are anally oriented, the rate of sadomasochism is extremely high, nearly as high as the incidence of homosexuality. There is something inherently masochistic about having one's anus violated, to say nothing of the fact that the type of stimulation is generally one of painful origins ... that strange area of pleasure-pain so hungrily sought by the masochist.

Hypochondria has long been felt to be an outward manifestation of underlying masochism. From the early writings of Stekel and Krafft-Ebing to the present, researchers have filled countless files attesting to this allegation. Both hypochondria and masochism deal with a bizarre fascination for suffering and death, but masochism may be somewhat the more honest expression, if somewhat less safe than hiding behind the illusion of hypochondria.

But to call masochism "truthful" would be a gross distortion; it is only relatively so. It is more open as it deals more intimately with the sexual libido. However sadomasochism is primarily a fetishistic deviation. That is to say, some sort of object, either real or imagined, stands between the individual and sexual possession of another individual. Some psychologists have felt that this phenomenon (fetishism) is similar to the homosexual's dilemma, that it is the fear (on the part of a male) of possessing one's mother that drives the person to put barriers (the fetish) between him and that mother ... in the case of the homosexual, a male, the fetishist, perhaps a shoe or some other object not normally associated with sex. This function relies heavily on guilt, a common item in Christian countries, with their religion founded upon sin and guilt.

In the case of Lester, we have a blending of the two, since he for so long masked his masochism behind the veil of hypochondria. His love of anality also ties in, making him an all-around athlete, a triple threat in the field of sadomasochism. Listen as his wife resumes her narrative, and judge for yourself what the proper limits of lust are, limits that are often surpassed, by the bizarre antics of this unusual pair.

"Before describing Lester's hospital-style room, let me read you a list on the bare walls ... a list I call the The Commandments of Slavery,' a tribute to my dominance over my hapless husband:

"1. Thou shalt place no other woman above me, nor shall you ever imagine, in your deepest fantasies, making love to another woman, or even serving at her feet.

2. You shall always make available to your mistress any part of your body, any orifice, for whatever pleasures your mistress desires of it at whatever time it may be.

3. You shall, under the pain of punishment, never utter a sound unless your mistress deems it proper.

4. At all times when you are away from my presence you shall be still in awe of me. The Golden Ring will be your reminder, wherever you may go, of your enslavement to me.

5. Unless otherwise told, or in. a state of bondage, slumber or any other state that would prevent me from doing so, you shall bow to your mistress whenever she enters the room and offer to kiss her feet should she so desire it.

6. You shall not begin any activity, whether it be eating, bathing or any other function, without first asking the permission of me, your ruler. Even when not in my direct presence, you will remember to ask my blessings before undertaking any such activity.

7. You shall never seek to gratify yourself by your own hand, nor shall you be permitted to have an orgasm when engaged in any form of sexual activity I desire, until verbal permission has been given by me.

8. When in the company of others, you shall refrain from conversation except when absolutely necessary, and then only for completing the purposes of that dialogue. Never should you offer any opinion upon any subject as a slave has no opinions-his must be the same as those of his mistress.

9. No smoking.

10. All of the above.

"I should clear up a couple of these, such as the 'no smoking.' I hate it and have made him quit. I smoke a lot. I just can't afford him the pleasure. Besides, it is in keeping with my hospital rules.

"The Golden Ring is a specialty I recently added. Just in case we are ever separated .... Like I take a couple of quick vacations every year just to get away from him and get some rest. So I had a little operation done, had his left testicle pierced and a small golden ring put in there. It's just at the base of his sac, not really painful, but just enough to let him be constantly aware of his servitude to me. He's probably never really able to get totally comfortable with it on. Ingenious. Of course, he's comfortable when he's not comfortable, crazy fool that he is.

"The hospital room. His bedroom is adjacent to mine in our lovely mansion. All the bedrooms are extremely large with the exception of his. His is about the size of a small hospital room. Originally the room was designed to be some sort of reading room, anteroom or something that opens off my bedroom. The contrast between the two is amazing.

"My bedroom contains what the grounds around such a stately abode promise ... elegance and room. I have my own fireplace, oriental tapestries, a large four-poster bed, a color television ... everything to make it comfortable.

But his looks just like a hospital room ... plain light-green walls, with only a picture of me and my commandments on the wall. And we've equipped it specially ... got the things through a hospital supply company. No problem at all to get them. All you need, like with everything else in this country, is money.

"We have a regular hospital bed, an electric one that adjusts to all the positions. I especially like to elevate just the middle and have him lie over it face down for his whippings. It elevates his butt just right. Then there's a bedside table, reading lamp, one of the tables that rolls over the bed for eating, etc.... Well, just everything you might find in a typical hospital room. I even have a TV (black and white) placed on a shelf high on the wall opposite his bed ... just like the big-time hospitals, the way Lester loves it.

"He spends practically all his time there when we're at home and Rita and I tend to him as though we are nurses there. Rita is actually one of our maids who happens to share a passion for cruelty like my own, only mine exceeds hers by some degree. She is allowed to punish him whenever I am away ... and upon several occasions has assisted me with his discipline when I'm at home. However, she dislikes the extremes, leaving those up to me.

"It's a pretty good job for her, since she doesn't have to do all the housework like my other maids. I also have a butler and a cook, and they all know about my husband's peculiarities, although none of them take an active hand in carrying out any part of the fantasy.

"Both Rita and I wear white, highly starched nurse's uniforms, complete with cap. I sometimes grow tired of it, discarding it for more comfortable attire, but Rita is required to wear hers at all times when on duty. We run the room like a regular hospital, making him do all his business in bed just as if he were bedridden. He takes his meals there, is washed there by Rita ... just about everything but pissing and shitting. There's a small bathroom off the room that he can use. Otherwise he must stay in the bed. Not that I'm always there to see he stays in... he goes by the rules that he's laid down for himself pretty good. I'm just a hired hand in lots of ways ... a person paid to enforce the rules. Only I'm taking an active interest in my job, and seeing to it that I'm handsomely rewarded for my efforts in that direction.

"The reason he's allowed bathroom privileges is that, we save bedpans and urinals aside as a special treat. He comes when he shits .... That's because he gets an enema when he has sex. Or vice versa ... I'm not sure of the order of things in Lester's little world. Neither Rita nor I like the idea of cleaning bedpans, so we leave that all up to him ... let him clean up his own shit. I've even built a small autoclave into his bathroom to serve this purpose.

"Every morning he is served breakfast, and then Rita takes care of the regular nursing duties such as checking his temperature (rectally to give him just a little thrill and to give him something to think about until the next enema), changing his water, his sheets (I use rubber sheets since he's always making so many messes), and all the other duties that nurses perform in a hospital.

He must follow a regular routine, even down to having visitors. He has very few, but they must follow regular visiting hours. He thinks he's pulling his accountant's leg, thinks that the accountant believes he is sick, but I've actually clued John in. He had his suspicions already when he found he had to visit him at certain times just like in a hospital. John thinks Lester is nuts, and he's probably right. But as long as Lester's corporation continues to pay him a cool fifty-thou a year, he's not going to make any complaints.

"I also make him take a nap in the afternoon, and submit to whatever inspections I might decide upon. We also have a strict rule that the lights go out at ten ... and that means the TV too. Of course, this doesn't apply to me. I often go out after tucking him in, or spend the night in my room watching TV or reading. And if I catch him with his set on he's in for real trouble. I think if I were Lester I'd spend all my life asleep, or as much of it as possible. I certainly wouldn't want to live by the rules that he imposes upon himself.

"Now I'll tell you about what happens on a typical time when he's punished ... which happens maybe once or twice a week.

"Listen: "I enter the room, carrying everything I need for his humiliation, balancing the smaller items in a bedpan. I've already had Rita tie him down with the large leather restraining straps that they use on mental patients and the like.

He is lying face down, the center of the bed cranked up to form a pyramid-Lester's fat tail at the very top, awaiting anything I may want to do to him.

"The railings are down-the only time I leave them up is at night when the lights go out. I go over to the bedside table and deposit the items I am carrying. It will be a severe session tonight as I am not exactly in the best of humors.

"The starch of my crisp, white uniform crinkles as I move ... the only noise as I am wearing crepe-sole nurse's shoes to complete the illusion of hospital sterility. I seat myself in a bedside chair, causing more crinkling sounds, crossing my legs that are covered by white stockings. Everything is done to make the hospital scene seem authentic.

"I take one of the surgical hoses with me ... the heavy kind used for such things as catheters and. so on, and slap it against the palm of my hand once, twice-hard and loud to let him savor the sound, knowing the dread it brings to his heart. He knows that very soon even louder sounds will come from that rubber hosing, as it cracks across his bare butt. I really love surgical tubing for whipping a man. I'm surprised that more people don't make whips out of them. They come in all sizes, cut to any length. I use the larger ones singly as I intend to do tonight, but the smaller ones can be tied to a handle of some sort to make a perfectly delightful cat-of-nine tails, one of my favorite implements I use on Lester. The hosing is very flexible, so that with the correct wrist snap it can be made to go very fast .... Result: larger welts than with a regular whip. They really sting like the dickens!

"After tapping the impromptu whip for awhile, building Lester to the proper pitch of terror, I rise and stand next to the bed, lecturing him: " 'Now, Lester ... as head nurse of this ward I'll have to warn you ... the next time ... the very next time this happens, this shameful, disrespectful ... childishly despicable act of wetting your bed .... Well, I'm afraid you know we've totally gone overboard in giving you chances. So the next time it's a lobotomy for you .... Then you'll not give us more trouble.

You'll barely be able to know your alive .... ' "I rant on, throwing out threats. Threats though they are, I sometimes think some of the imagined horrors I promise for the next time---- After all, with masochism it is the delay that is the key, the anticipation of pain becomes much more terrible than the actuality once it arrives .... Now where was I? Oh, yes-horrors real and imagined. Well, sometimes I think one of those things should be taken to the actuality stage----Maybe once I get him to sign a few more policies over to my name .... Just wishful thinking.

"He is sufficiently terrorized by this time-by the time I am telling him of just how he's going to be punished. '... so as a reminder to you of the dire fate that lies in store for you, should you be so foolish as to commit this ridiculous transgression again I shall have to whip you severely ... and I can only hope that this will make you mend your ways.' "So doing, I raise my arm masterfully, the heavy piece of tubing, approximately three and a half feet in length, over my head, holding the position for what must be to poor Lester an incredibly long time, and then ... illustrate my lecture by suiting action to words, bringing the strap slashing down, applying the expert flip of the wrist just the moment before contact and - ziiiiing - a line of fire is drawn across his huddling fat ass, and the whip rebounds smartly after planting the kiss of pain.

"Another delay .... And he hears the whrrrrrr just a split second before the whuiiiiittttt as it beats his attempt to clench up his cheeks in vain attempts to ward off the lash. But even if he had given the most superhuman effort to dodge the blow, the restraining straps at his hands and feet, the heavy strap fastened around his waist, would not allow him to move the slightest from the burning sting of the whip.

"The second red line brought the first moan from him ... and also started the chicken in him flowing. He began his pitiful whine----I never gag him at home except for a mild change of , pace. We don't have any neighbors within hearing distance and I do so love to hear him beg and implore me for mercy as I flay his behind off.

" 'Aeeeeee-please don't ... you know I can't .... ' "Whrrrrrrr-whuiiiitttt!

"He jumped as far as he could-about an inch -as I laid an extra hard one across the base of his buttocks, the tip curling around his hip to place a round beesting there.

" 'Owwwwoooowwwwwoooo.... No no no ... I'm s-s-soreeemomeeee!' He was crying now, snot flowing freely from his plump red nose like a tiny schoolboy's. What a baby. It disgusted me so much that I laid on even harder, drowning out his cries for mercy with my own demanding banter: " 'So you would ask for mercy, would you? Well, here's some for you....' "I brought down one, two, three rapid-fire zingers that drew welts across existing ones. The hole behind was swollen and flaming red by this time, large dark weals, some of them getting pulpy and purplish in hue standing out from the relief of the less-savage background.

"Such a bad, bad, bad little boy. I'm ashamed of you, crying like a little crybaby. Here's something to cry about for you.' Ziiiing ziiiiiiing! 'And this .... ' Whhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrr huiiiiiiittttttttt!

"And on and on we went, me punctuating my little lecture with sharp strokes to his battered rear ... him playing a discordant harmony with his cries, sobs, pleas for mercy. But I had no intentions of letting up .... After all, he'd had only half a whipping ... only forty lashes or so. There wasn't even any blood by this time .... And I'm certainly not about to see a good rubber sheet go to waste without having a little blood to justify its usage. For truly we didn't have him go to all the trouble of peeing in his bed each time just for purposes of dramatics. We had quite enough 'method acting' as it was now .... What could be more true realism than the flow of real blood? So I said, 'As you know, worm, there's more to come ... but I'll just let you think about that for a bit.' "For it was time for my favorite television program. Leaving my welted husband sobbing, tied in place, I cast my makeshift whip aside, and for a half hour escaped the way I really can dig it, watching that wonderful kiddie show MC who just got busted for Child molestation and is now running for president of the local PTA. Oh, I love the man. I couldn't restrain myself ... lifted my skirts, lowered my panties and diddled myself off.

"I sat there for five minutes after coming, trying to regain my composure. You can't be convincingly dominant after you've just come. Besides, the anticipation of the last part of the whipping was probably driving Lester mad with fear. The last part is always the worst as I am sure to open his old wounds in the process.

"When I finally am ready, I regain my stately manner and stride regally back into Lester's room, being greeted by the dying sobs that still remain in his throat, muffled by the pillow his face is buried in.

"In only seconds he is crying more loudly than ever-squeezing out more tears than he'd ever thought possible as I resume the whipping of his naked hindquarters. This time there will be little ceremony. I don't even say a word as I bring the lash down to let it speak for me. For I am whipping him at a much faster rate, bringing at least one stroke down every five seconds. I put every ounce of my strength in it and, baby, if you don't believe it, that's a lot of ounces. My arm tires fairly quickly in this rapid-fire manner, but it's worth it for the terrible intensified pain he must suffer during the highly concentrated period of whipping.

"His screams now sound like that of a crazy man, hoarse and high-pitched as he is in terrible pain.... I can't even make out the crazy words he is yelling, so mad is he in his pain.

" 'Wowow-baaaaayaaayaaabeeeeeee!' Really out of it ... like really crazy, man. And now large droplets of his blood spray up as the whip cuts into the devastated flesh, cutting through the welts, bruises and gore, slicing it into a pulpy mass .... My kind of fun.

"And I am one to do it my way.

"After about forty new stripes have been added to his bloody tail, I tell him to brace himself for the last two-in a firm tone that tells him exactly my mood, and exactly what he can expect. But he's too delirious with pain ... having too much fun, if you can believe that. For every time I whip him this hard, he comes all over the place. He's crying while he comes too ... really la weirdo guy. I'm. sure glad I'm not that way ... I'm proud to be a straight, decent U.S. citizen.

"His buttocks must now be disengaged from his brains. That's the only way I can figure how he can stand so much. Must be a button that clicks on there sometime during the whipping that gives him so much pleasure that he can counter the pain. Somebody do that to me-why, it'd piss me off to say the least.

"And it's a: whhhhhmrrrr-whuiiiittttttttt! Anda: whhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr- whuiiiiiiiiiittttttttttttt! ... keeping my promise to him, especially on the last one that lands with such impact that a few droplets of blood splash onto my dress.

"Whew-what a disaster area. I let him sob for a few minutes, while I try to massage some strength back into my numb right arm. But I'd rather have a sore right arm than an ass that looks like that.

"Being a good nursie, I go over to the bedside table and get out one of my goodies, a bottle of isopropyl alcohol-190-proof variety. No germs on my Lester. Not after I pour the entire contents of the bottle on his ass, bringing a scream that you wouldn't believe ... the worst kind of scream ... a silent scream, done with just the breath as the vocal cords are all screamed out.

"As usual, piker that he is, Lester passes out at this stage of the proceedings. The last pain of the sharp, biting alcohol directly into the wounds is too much for even his sensibilities. Off into dream land ... thinking of dungeons and whips and iron maidens ... whatever pain people like him think about.

"But at least I prevent infection this way. As I cover the area with a soothing salve, the blood drying on the sheet beneath him, I decide he's had enough trouble-that he won't get the catheter tonight.

"I guess I'm thinking about it since I'm on the subject of infection prevention. One has to go through a great deal of bother to insert a catheter ... for a bladder infection is hard to combat these days.

"For those of you not familiar with a catheter ... it is used on comatose patients or other patients who cannot control the functions of the bladder. One inserts a tube, similar to the one I had just used on Lester's rear, only smaller in diameter, into the penis of the male patient... sort of a painful thing to him. Of course, all equipment is sterilized. Even I must wear sterilized gloves to put it in and I am practically as germ-free as any human being will ever get.

"Anyway, once the end of the tube reaches the bladder, one injects the tube with a needle full of air ... I should say that the syringe is full of air, and the needle goes into the tube ... the same setup doctors use to give shots to boys and girls ... remember, we learned about that yesterday?

"Now why, one might ask, would anyone shoot air up a tube that's in a guy's bladder?

"My answer: Because we're weird.

"But really, the major concern is to fill the ball at the end of the tube with air.... Aha, you don't remember the ball? Well, you just weren't paying attention when we pulled down the chart, showing you students a diagram of the catheter. At the tip is a ball that you fill with a few cc's of air. This is harmless, though a little discomforting, and prevents the tube from slipping out.

"Done for medical purposes, the other end of the tube is run into a plastic bag that catches the droplets of urine it drains from the bladder. Done my way it can be a painful addition to Lester's enemas. For old weird Lester gets another come for the night when I give him his extra-special treat, an enema!

"I'm sure that's just what most of you folks out there have always been wanting.

"Because this is certainly what Lester is wanting!

"But I already know that. That's why I contemplate suicide so much ... Lester's suicide, of course. Some day I'll get up enough guts and see just how far I can extend my range of influence over him ... see if I can implant that idea in his head.

"Or maybe I can get him to go all the way. By that I mean this: If he can go from hypochondria to masochism, then maybe I can get him to go gay. It's always been my contention that masochism is just a cover for a deeper fear -that of going gay. Soooooo if I can get him to attend one of the meetings of the Gay Liberation Front .... Which is, of course, merely the radical left offshoot, the anterior faction, of the conservative, better known Gay Liberation Back....

"My massage is wakening my Lester from his pain-induced unconsciousness. He is moaning, but from experience I know that it's a moan of pleasure, which isn't altogether different from one of pain with Lester ... at least to the untrained ear.

"I untied his bond, reversing him on the bed -having first flattened the bed somewhat with the electric controls. Once having him painfully turn over, his battered buttocks sticking to the rubber sheet gore, I re-tied him in the spread-eagle position, the only difference being that he was now face up. I removed the strap from his middle as it would no longer be necessary. In fact it would have been a hindrance, as I need him to be somewhat mobile in this position ... at least so that he can move enough for me to slide the bedpan under his ass.

"Propping the bed up just slightly, so that his head is elevated a bit, I now take the silver throne and place his lowness upon it,- lifting his. body by placing one arm under his back while I slide the bedpan underneath his torn buttocks. When those shredded cheeks of his touch that ice-cold bedpan you should see the expression on his face. He tries his damndest to suppress his outrage, but always manages to let out a few moans of agony at this point in the proceedings. One thing about Lester ... he suffers well.

But there ain't much of a market for martyrs these days, McGee, not at my house anyhow.

"Irritated that he'd come around so fast from the brutal whipping, I'm vowing he'll be sorry when I give the enema to him. The thought of using the catheter enters my mind again; but, no, too much trouble for me to go through.

"I bring the enema kit over, setting the stand close to the edge of the bed and leaving for a second. For one needs a lot of nice hot soapy water to give a good enema. No Fleet's enemas for fat Lester ... not my big Mo Lester. Those little nozzles on those disposable enemas are too small to do his big ass any good. And they don't contain enough solution to unstop a flea. We like a nice long hose that I can ram far up into his rectum ... and especially the hot soapy suds that really cause a man to get himself cleaned out. At least that's what Lester tells me. It's his tank, I'm just pumping the gas.

"I hang the bag onto the stand, fastening a clamp on the tubing. I take the tip of the anal catheter and smear a small gob of surgical lubricant, KY, on it. My god, I'm really becoming a humanitarian in my old age! I hardly ever put KY on anything that goes up his ass makes it too easy for him.

"Oh, well, might as well let him get a different sensation tonight. I'll lull him with the soft sell of the tube, then fill him with more suds than he's ever been able to handle. That'll fix his tube for him.

"Leaning over him, I spread his legs as far as possible. Making sure his shitter is over the throne, I plunge the hard tip of the enema hose into his rectum, not waiting for his ring to adjust, tearing some flesh on the way in. He squirmed crazily and I saw his cock begin to rise again, strange little cuckoo that it is. What a weird bird you have, fat Lester.

"Observing the rise that Lester was getting from all this made me mad.... I balled up my fist and punched him right in the nuts ... cock turned soft ... face turned blue, but his cock went soft.

"What pissed me off like that was the fact that I'd forgotten to put a rubber over his cock. Blood on the sheets I don't mind. But I won't stand for having him spoil our linen with his filthy sperm-or spermatozoa, if you will. I had originally planned on the catheter, so my change of plans in midstream had thrown me off. Making sure that the tube was far enough up his rectum, I left him high and dry while I went over to his cabinet and removed a prophylactic from his drawer.

"I ripped off the paper in a huff, still pissed at myself for not remembering. At least I have someone to take my pain out on. Just when grief starts building up in me, a little voice goes 'bing' inside my head and it goes: "Control yourself 'Sure you've got a headache.

'But why take it out on yourself!

'Not when there's him around.' "But I was still a little mad and let the creep know it as I stretched the rubber over his limp cock, snapping it at the bottom when I'd rolled it down, tugging at his pubes hard with my fingers for a little extra emphasis.

"Now I began working the tube in and out of his ass, bumping and bruising his prostate good for him. He was squirming around in pain in no time at all. I undamped the hose and let fly with the first dose of solution----He really jumped around now. I'd put in practically boiling water and it hadn't had time to cool off much.

"I listened as the suds gurgled around in his guts, watched his pecker rise again, encased in the restricting rubber sheath. Then I let fly with another dose ... let it flow several long seconds before clamping it off ... watch the worm wriggle around again.... And then comes this -B-B-B-R-R-Raaaaaaaapppppppppp that fizzles at the end, but the gas had held big promise. That's Lester for you, not even a big shit. Promises to be big shit, but turns out to be a fizzled-out fart.

"Some of the juices are expelled, mixed a murky brown with some of his shit. I cram that hose up a little farther, pinching at the cheeks of his ripped ass on my way out, tugging at a couple of stray pubic hairs, bringing a few gasps from Lester's blubbery lips.

"Now I let out a big bunch of water ... more than I can remember him ever getting at one time. I warn him to hold it for as long as he can ... it's a gas to watch his face contort as he struggles. He really likes having his ass stuffed, whether it be artificial cock or bilge water. He was really fighting to hold the brew down, his face puffing out all livid red and ugly. Even in its present condition of ruin, his ass was less ugly than his face.

"Finally he could hold it no more and- RRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPP... BREEEEEEPEEEEE ... BRAAAAPPPPP! The shit had hit the fan, or I should say, pan.

"It came in uncontrollable quantities, but I was determined to cut it off.... He'd almost shit out the enema tube; but I reached down, not caring about the shit on my hands, since I was more interested in really giving him an assful. He still expelled some of the mixture to relieve the tremendous pressure in his guts, one sharp stream of escaping fluids singing a ringing song as it rimmed off the tin bedpan. But I'd stopped him before the major load got out.

"His face was now turning purple, his stomach going through spasms as it fought to expel the fluid, but I undamped that mother one more time, forcing the remaining fluid into his already swollen rectum. I had to work fast or he'd explode on me.

"Climbing up on the bed, keeping my hand on the tube to keep the big explosion from coming, I positioned myself on my knees next to him. I worked myself to a squatting position by pulling my feet up under me and sitting back on them. I timed it just right, watching his face go almost black from trying to hold back the load ... the biggest load he'd ever have. But, incredibly enough, his cock was hard and throbbing, probably ready to explode about the same time his ass would.

"I let go of the hose, and as soon as I did, jumped as high as I possibly could, coming down with my heels full-force on his stomach. The double groan was something I'd like to have on tape ... a pitiful one from his mouth and another loud, tearing one from his ass. I jumped once more, bouncing all my weight on his rumpled belly ... the juices had all blown out on the first try anyway.

"Most of it'd blown by the bedpan ... the bed was a real mess now with the soapy shit joining the blood. I'd have to have Rita clean it up since I'd put Lester out of condition, I'd never heard him moan in such a helpless manner.

Just to show him that I still cared, I leaned over his gasping face and smeared onto his blubbery lips the shit I'd gotten all over my hands when I'd tried to hold back the flow. And he liked it very much, smacking his lips in an almost automatic fashion, his tongue flicking out between moans to catch anything he'd missed.

"I left him moaning ... time for another of my favorite TV shows. It sure is getting to be boring around this place. This was one of the mildest sessions we'd had in quite a while. I guess what they say about marriage is true ... after the first year or so the glamour goes out of it. Then you end up in the everyday drag ... the old ho-hum boredom of life----The same way it's getting with me and Lester."