The enema nurse

This request was somewhat tame in comparison to some I've gotten recently. It was nice. Refreshing. I hope he likes it.

Medical fetishism is a little outside my wheel house, but I totally understand it. I blame Ava Amnesia.

The Enema Nurse

Simon took a deep breath and tried to ignore the cold leather beneath him, where the dress didn't cover. Technically, it's not a dress. It's a gown. A medical gown. But that sounds so much like a dress that he couldn't help thinking of it that way. In the corner, his clothes wait in a pile. Sooner or later, the nurse will come in, do the simple tests, and then will let him go. That's the idea, anyway.

But, like any real doctor's office, he was being left to wait. They got him stripped down, uncomfortable and vulnerable, and then they left him there.

Looking around, it really did look a doctor's office. The lighting was a humming florescent that washed out everything. The floor was cheap fake tile. The chair he was laying on was even a real medical chair. On the wall was an image of a human body, pointing out all the various systems and covered with enough medical jargon to take any thoughts of sexiness away from it. She really had taken care of everything.

She tapped on the door once before pushing it open. She smiled as she walked in and closed the door behind her.

Once she was on the tile, he could hear every step she made. The chunky heels holding up the knee high white vinyl boots made a powerful sound with each step. He let his eyes travel up the boots to the white stockings that ended just below the tight white dress. It shone in the light, looked like it was poured onto her skin, or maybe just painted there. Her breasts didn't bulge, but they stood out in perfect relief, giving him a nice view with the plunged neckline. The little red cross was right between her breasts, drawing the eye. He smiled.

She smiled back, adjusted the little nurse hat on her head, and pulled out her gloves. They were latex, surgical gloves. Medical standard. She kept his eyes locked with hers as she pulled them on, snapping them a bit once they were pulled all the way down.

“Are you ready for your treatment?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes nurse.”

“Good.” She reached between her legs, wriggled a bit, and pulled a pair of panties down. She daintily stepped out of them, taking her time and running her hands down the length of the boots, letting him watch as she bent at an angle no one would naturally take, one that gave him a nice long view of her entire body. She stood up and turned around, bending much farther than she had to, and put the panties on the counter, taking her time and letting him get a good long look at the perfection that was her ass.

“Are you cold?” she asked, looking up at his crotch, seeing his erection pushing a tent into the gown. “I expected bigger.”

He blushed and fidgeted a little.

She shook her head and frowned. “That won't do at all,” she said. “I can't have you moving around and screw up the procedure.” She reached under the seat and pulled out two stirrups. They looked like the ones in a real doctor's office, except for the added straps. “Put your feet in these,” she said.

He hesitated, but just for a second. Then he put first one foot, then the other, into the stirrups. She strapped him down.

“Now your hands, if you please.” She was still all smiles, still looked friendly. Her tone of voice was relaxed, casual. He found himself giving her his hands without even really thinking about it. She raised them above his head and then put cuffs on them. The clicking sound sent a rush through his body.

“Better,” she said. “But still not quite right.” She stepped over to the wall, to a button. “This will help.”

She pressed the button, and the chain jerked back, pulling Simon's arms up tightly above his head. At the same time, the stirrups pulled forward, dragging his ass off the edge of the chair. Between the two, he felt the tension pulling on his body. It hurt, but only a very mild pain.

“Isn't that better?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Good boy. Now, let's get started.”

She walked to the door, opened it, and pulled in one of those cart things that they use in real hospitals, where they hang the IV bags. There was a bag hanging there, but it wasn't filled with medicine. It was a red plastic, and Simon recognized it immediately, even before she started rubbing lube on his ass, even before she stuck the tube inside him.

She turned something on the bag, and he saw water start to flow down the tube. It hit him almost immediately, a warm sensation filling his inside. He didn't struggle.

Then she stepped back out and pulled in a tub. It was one of those deep tubs used for physical therapy. It was all shining metal, but it was empty. She slid it into place underneath him.

“What is that for?” he asked.

“Shh,” she said. “No talking during the procedure.”

Then she took her panties and pushed them into his mouth. “This should keep you quiet,” she said.

He almost protested, not that there was much he could say. She had clearly been turned on before she took them off. That much he could taste.

Soon, he felt full. She pulled the tube out, and he tried to hold himself tight. But it didn't last long. Within a few seconds, the liquid was flushing out his ass like he had turned on a hose. He heard it splash into the tub.

It kept coming out, longer than he expected. Soon, there was a bit of a puddle in the tub. It didn't take Simon long to figure out what the little splashes were.

The nurse looked down at the tub and made a disgusted face. The smell hit Simon, and he wrinkled his nose. It reminded him that the panties had been on both sides of her body, and it might not just be the taste of her being turned on.

She left the room for a minute, and he spat out the panties. There wasn't much he could do, so they just rested on his chest. He pulled on the chains, but there was no give. No way for him to move.

She came back in with another bag. It was bigger than the first. She looked at the panties on his chest and shook her head.

“Not good enough?” She asked. Then she sighed. “Fine.” She opened a drawer under the counter and pulled out a bright red ball. No, not ball. Ball gag. “Open up,” she said.

He shook his head.

She reached between his legs and wrapped her surgical gloved hands around his ball sack. “Open,” she said, her voice much less friendly. Much more commanding.

He shook his head again.

And she squeezed. She squeezed so hard he was sure something was going to burst. He opened his mouth to scream.

She popped the ball into his mouth, let go of him, and had the gag strapped around his head before the streaks of pain in his vision had cleared.

“Better,” she said. Then she took the new bag with its tube, a bigger tube than before, and shoved it up his ass without ceremony. He was able to see the liquid this time; it was still water, but clearly soapy.

She saw his stare and shrugged. “You're filthy,” she said. “And if I'm going to put my dildo in there, I want it to be clean. Besides, all my boyfriends want to avoid getting shit on their cocks.”

That wasn't part of the plan. He had never agreed to that, never asked for any of it. He struggled madly.

She laughed. “Don't worry,” she said. “I'm not going to do any of that this time. You have to ask for that.” She patted him on the cheek. “And you have to pay for it.” Then she winked and squeezed the bag, pushing the water faster inside of him.

He moaned softly into the gag as the water sprayed against his prostate. He felt his insides stretch as the water filled him.

She pulled the pipe out quickly and pushed a plug in his ass.

“There you go,” she said. “Let the soap do its work.”

He groaned and tried to move. She put her gloved hand on his face. “Shh,” she said. “Just a few seconds longer. It has to loosen everything up. It'll be okay.”

He whimpered into the gag, but she had been telling the truth. Just a few seconds later, she pulled the plug out. He heard it splash into the tub just before a torrent of water followed it, leaving him feeling blessedly empty.

He was panting, breathing heavily through his nose, closing his eyes and trying to relax, when he felt the tube go back in.

“Now comes the fun one.”

He opened his eyes to see a cruel look on her face. He started struggling as soon as he felt the water going in again. It wasn't as comfortable as the other two had been. It was cold. Freezing cold.

He screamed into the gag as it filled him, whimpering and groaning as she pushed more and more of the freezing cold water. There were tears running down his cheeks as the water froze his insides. It was as if he could feel each of his organs turning to ice.

She pushed a much bigger plug in when it was done, leaving him squirming and unable to vacate no matter how badly he might want to.

She patted him on his stomach, which seemed swelled and filled with ice. “You just relax,” she said. “I've got another client. I'll be back.”

She left him there, tied down and unable to move, his bowels filled with ice, the smell of shit from the earlier enemas in his nose, which he was forced to breathe through. He struggled, hoping to dislodge the plug or at least get himself loose from the bindings around his ankles and wrists.

He thrashed about, desperate to get himself free as the cold seized his insides. The cuffs dug into his skin, but there was no give to them. There was just the cold inside, making him shiver.

He whimpered from the pain, but it wouldn't go away. He was forced just to lay there, shivering and whimpering.

Slowly, the pain of the cold began to ease. As his body warmed the water, he felt his insides melt. But as that pain receded, a new pain started to build. The pressure of the enema began as a slight cramp, growing more and more painful as the time went by.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, she came back into the room. She took her time, walking leisurely around the room, looking at him, watching as his eyes followed her every move. She smiled at him.

“I bet you want me to take that out,” she said. He nodded, vigorously. She reached over to the pile of clothes by the table and picked up his underwear. “No problem,” she said. “I'll take it right out.” Carrying his underwear, she reached out to the plug, pulled it out with his underwear. The plug, and his underwear, both gushed into the tub.

Simon groaned in pleasure as it rushed out, happy to hear nothing but the sound of flowing water, happy finally to be empty. He lay on the table, panting in relief.

She unhooked the gag and pulled it out of his mouth. He stretched his jaw a bit. “Oh my god,” he said, barely able to talk.

She smiled at him. “Was it everything you wanted?”

He laughed and nodded. “Hell yes. But what's with the tub?”

She shrugged. “I considered threatening to pour it over you, but with the way you reacted to my other suggestion, I didn't think you'd be into that.”

“And the underwear?”

“I improvised,” she said. “I like to give my clients a little something special.”

“What do you mean?”

She unhooked his ankles and helped him slide back onto the chair. “Well, you're not going to want to put them on again, are you? They're soaked and in the tub.” He made a face and shook his head. She laughed again. “I didn't think so. But you do need to wear underwear.” She patted him on the chest, where her underwear was still resting. “So you can wear those.”

“Those are panties.” She nodded. “They're your panties.”

She shook her head. “Technically, they're yours. You paid for them. I just wore them while I got dressed. And you're going to put them on when you get dressed. You're going to take them home. And next time you come see me, you're going to wear them again. Without washing them.”

She freed his wrists. As he rubbed the feeling back into them, she went to the door. “Make sure you wear them home,” she said. Then she glared at him and pointed at him. “That's an order,” she said.

He picked up the panties and looked at them. They were very frilled, very girly. No way to pretend they were men's underwear. No chance anyone would think so.

“Do it,” she said.

“Yes Ma'am.”