I Think You Have A Temperature

Saturday morning around nine o'clock. I'm sitting on the couch drinking my morning cup of coffee. Ann walked up to me and kissed me on the forehead.   “You feel awfully warm to me Michael. Are you feeling all right? Let's take your temperature just to be sure.” Ann said walking into the bedroom. A few minutes later she came out holding a pillow in her hands. Stacked on the pillow were a towel, a wet washcloth, a jar of Vaseline, and a thermometer. She sat down in the middle of the couch with the pillow on her lap covered with the towel. She placed one of the couch pillows beside her to the left, and the jar of Vaseline, washcloth, and thermometer at arms length to her right. “Come over here Michael, and take off your shorts.” She said and continued, “Now lay down over my lap. I'm going to take your temperature.” I lay down with my chest on the couch pillow, and my butt centered on her lap high in the air. As she pulled my under pants down to the middle of my thighs she said, “Michael I know you haven't been feeling well, so I'm going to take your temperature to see just what We need to do to make you feel better.” I heard the top pop off the Vaseline, my cheeks were spread, and I felt the cold jell on my bottom. Moments later I felt Ann's finger push deep inside me.

Ann's finger probed deep inside me while her other hand slid under my belly and probed my abdomen. A minute or so later she wiped her hands on the washcloth, and started shaking down the thermometer. After a quick look, the thermometer was plunged into the Vaseline and then gently inserted into my bottom. Her right hand rested on my butt over the thermometer. Her left hand gently rubbed my back. “Michael you are really full. I've told you again and again to tell me when you are constipated, but you won't tell me. I bet you will after today.” Ann stated as she removed the thermometer and read it. She shook her head, mumbled something about almost one hundred and one, and told me to stay put as she headed for the bathroom. I heard water running for a while. Ann walked past me into the other bedroom carrying a towel, two paddles, and the black butt plug. A strong smell of Ivory soap followed her. Several minutes later she returned to the bedroom saying, “Michael put your enema pants on while I get your soapsuds enema ready.” As I pulled my briefs on allowing my genitals to fall through the hole in the front, I could see Ann filling the amber enema bag with jet white water. When she poured the forth-measuring cup into the bag my stomach sank. I'd only been given a two quart enema once before.

Ann walked past me carrying the bloated bag in one hand and the enema nozzle in the other. With a smile on her face she said, “Follow me Michael. It's time for your first enema.”  She hanged the bag from the ceiling fan. Several pillows were stacked in the middle of the futon lounge chair with a towel laying over them. I was guided over the pillows with my bottom high in the air. My wrists and ankles were tied to the corners of the futon, and my enema pants were pulled down to my knees. As she raised the paddle above her head she said, “Michael it's going to be a long day for you.” My butt was beet red when she pulled my enema pants up high above my waist. The nozzle was guided through a small hole in the fabric and into my bottom. She pulled the pants tight between my cheeks securing the nozzle inside me. I heard the click, felt the surge of water, and the burn of the soap. She closed the clamp one click, sat down on the couch, and lit a cigarette saying, “Michael you're going to take a nice long soapy punishment enema. Then you're going to hold it while I paddle your bottom. You will be taking enemas and spankings until you go to bed tonight. Maybe next time you'll tell me when you're not feeling well.” I was just trying to tolerate my first enema.