Filthy, Dirty Piggy.

I knew it was coming, and I had been dreading it. Most of you know, I hate enemas. In fact, up until yesterday I had only ever had one, because of my particular distaste for them. I refused to ever willingly do one again! Until yesterday...

Yes, I gave myself an enema, under the phone instruction of a sadist I know, who thoroughly enjoyed having me do so. As you can imagine, I tried to get out of it with whining, bargaining, and implied frustration, but he ignored all of that and simply told me to do it. So, naked, I filled up the water bottle with warm water, which he said to keep near the temperature of what I might use for a shower. I guess the alternative of cold water, would have been quite uncomfortable.

"I need to pee before we do this!"

"Hold it"

"Noooo!, No, no, no...damn.." I am glad he could not see the look on my face. I -hate- bathroom control.

"Hold it"

Into the tub I went! After, of course, hanging the bag on the curtain rod so that gravity would bring the water rushing easily down through the clamped line. After inserting the nozzle into my ass, he had me get on all fours.

"OK, open the line"

I did.

Now, never having given myself an enema before, I simply did not think about the fact that there are different setting on the hose clamp. In fact, there are about 4, which control the amount of water which rushes through the line at any given point. I learned damn fast.

"Oh my GOD.. it is rushing into my ass, too fast! I need to poo, I need to poo!" I instantly started crying. Yes, yes, I lost control of my emotions well before losing control of my own body functions.

"Clamp it!".

He let me get out of the bathtub as soon as I could stand, and release on the toilet. My ass felt like it was exploding as water and shit poured out of me into the bowl, and came back up to splash my ass with the force of it. He told me I was a filthy, dirty piggy, and as I was grunting, crying, mumbling, he patiently then explained the use of a hose clamp, and asked me if I had seen the other little ridges on it. Of course I had, but it had just not registered that there was a need to use them. I had just learned my first lesson.

"Please, I need to pee, let me pee, please, please!!"

"Pee" And I did, fuck, did I pee!

After I had sufficiently calmed myself, which took a few minutes, he had me get back into the tub, allowing me to flush the toilet this time.

"Ready for round two?"

"Uh huh"

"Get back in the tub"

There was a lot of water left in the bag, and I cringed. How the fuck was I going to fit that into my ass?? Back in the nozzle went, and this time, when he told me to release the clamp, I made sure to do so at a slower setting. Instantly, the need to shit again was upon me, and I cried harder. He would not let me go, and I started to writhe and move about the tub, pleading, whining, begging and sobbing into the phone about my obvious predicament.

"Clamp it"

I did, and he made me stay there, holding it in. There was no pain involved in this enema, but just a hard, uncontrollable urge to shit and empty myself. I could not keep myself still.

"I need to poo, I need to, God...please!!!"

"No."

"Open the clamp"

I did, and the rest of the water in the bag slowly went into my ass. I was not certain I could control it any more, and the thought of messing myself in the tub with shit all over my legs and ass, made me cry all the harder. I had never been reduced to such a state! Having to rely on the mercy of a fucking sadist, to even shit? Writing that actually made me shudder.

He had me get up, and again, I did. I stood there, wobbling, trying not to let anything so much as trickle out of my ass. Yet, a bit did, and I could feel a small bit escape to trickle down my leg. Which in itself, freaked me out that I could not just control it.

"Go to the toilet".

I managed to get there, and sit down, holding everything in again until he told me I could let go. Which, he did.

"Now masturbate".

"No, no no no... not on the toilet, please, please!"

"Do it".

"No! I am not going to masturbate on the fucking toilet, I'm not! I can't come like this.."

"Do it, now"

And of course, I did. I hated it, and I hated having my clit respond even when mentally I was so disgusted with myself that feeling any sort of arousal was almost impossible. I sat there, on the toilet, smelling my own filth while my fingers busied themselves in between the folds of my cunt.

"I hate this, I can't come, I just can't!!"

"Why not?"

"I need to be on my back, I just cannot come, like this.. can't."

"Get in the tub and lay down"

I got off the toilet, looking back and almost emptying my stomach as well.

"Can I flush, please?"

"No, I want you to see and smell your own mess."

I got back in the tub, laying down, half-crying as I was now laying in a bit o mess which had leaked from my ass. I could smell everything, and the odor in the bathroom was so strong. Having to masturbate, with that permeating the air, was hard. I stomped my foot against the tub.

"I can't do this, I hate it! I don't want to come, I don't want to!!"

And yet I still masturbated, because I did not have permission to stop. I cried, I moaned, and cried harder. I felt such a strong desire to fling the phone across the room, and do exactly what I wanted. How dare he do this? What the fuck was I thinking? There was no need for him to have control anyhow.

I did not stop.

"I can't, I can't, please, let me go into my room and use my hitache, please!!!"

"What? In the messy state you are in?"

"I.. I'll use a towel, please, please??"

"Do it"

Out I stumbled, taking a glance at the full toilet and hastily grabbing a towel. He permitted me to flush, and then I made my way to my room, having given up trying to get out of masturbating. I damn near rammed that hitache into my cunt! Over and over I brought myself closer and closer to the edge, and each time I simply could not get there. I was so thoroughly disgusted from the experience, that I just could not make my mind relax enough to enjoy it.

"I just can't come. My cunt -knows- what my ass just did!!"

He laughed his ass off, as I struggled to push myself over the edge. He had told me to orgasm already, in fact twice, and the urgency of not failing was making me miserable and frustrated. I was scared I could not do it, and finally I begged him to help by counting down for me.

At 1, when he told me to come, I did.

Such a dirty, nasty, little piggy. I screamed and screamed, when the orgasm hit. There, on the bed, writhing in my pitiful mess, smelling my shit and filth, and squealing like a whore.

After it was done, and I lay there trying to keep myself from passing out, and thanking him for the orgasm, he simply said:

"So, enema next Tuesday?"

Bastard.