They had never met. As arranged, he had sent her an envelope with instructions. In it were directions to a cottage located in a secluded, stunningly picturesque valley, and keys to that cottage. She was told to arrive on such and such a date and at such and such a time. She was to let herself into the cottage and there would find further instructions. As she drove she imagined and anticipated what she would experience there, though she did not know how it all would be orchestrated and allowed to unfold. All she knew was that on this day she would be subjected to
extensive and extreme anal and rectal
probing
. It was this promise that set her eagerly on her course, that had thrilled her to the very core of her being.
The cottage was a charming structure set in a sylvan glade, a briskly flowing brook running alongside. She let herself in to find a simple but tastefully furnished entryway. On a table lay an envelope with her name on it. She opened the envelope to find a note, along with a black silk blindfold. The note read: "Proceed up the stairs to the room on the left." She climbed the stairs and opened the door to the room and her heart skipped a beat as she immediately absorbed its very special ambiance. Unlike the room downstairs, furnished with antiques and charming rustic furniture, this room was crisp and clinical. There was an examining table with stirrups, familiar from her visits to gynecologists. And a second, flat leather table alongside it. Neatly arranged on a shelf were a wide assortment of dildos and other implements, a speculum and lubricants. Adjacent to a sink stood a stainless steel stand and, alongside it, some enema apparatus.
She read further: "Once you are in the room, undress completely and put on the blindfold. Get up on the flat leather table on elbows and knees. Then wait."
She did as instructed, removing her chic outfit, her provocative undergarments, to reveal her long, sleek, elegant, almost regal form. Naked now, she assumed the position demanded of her, her anticipation keen. She waited. And waited. Every second seemingly a minute, every minute an hour, the sense of time heightened by the blindfold's negation of her vision. Finally she heard footsteps, then someone entering the room. It was he.
"Hello, Ingrid," he said in a deep, calming voice.
She kept silent.
She heard him approach. Then, suddenly, felt his two hands on her buttocks. They were big hands, comfortable. What would those hands do? Would they spank her, redden her alluring, virtually perfect bottom? Would he proceed in a punitive mode? No. That is not how it began. The hands caressed her bottom gently, sensually, his moves skilled, practiced. He massaged her lovely ass tenderly, bringing his thumbs closer and closer to the wedge, the crevice, closer to the target, closer to what she knew would, today, be the very center of her being, her essence.
He spread her buttocks apart now and she suddenly felt exposed to his scrutiny, exposed and vulnerable. She could feel his eyes burning into her bottom, taking in the vivid landscape of her bare ass. And then she sensed him leaning forward and felt something new, felt his lips.
He kissed her buttocks, his lips covering with kisses every inch of her smooth, taut ass. Slowly, tantalizingly, his lips drifted to the center, the warm, humid space between her cheeks. She shuddered as she felt his lips on her anus, kissing her, kissing her repeatedly, lovingly. And then something else, his tongue, warm and moist, probing her. She let out an involuntary sigh as she felt his tongue glide over her sphincter. He took his sweet time licking her asshole. First teasing her with light flickers of his tongue, then, gradually, pressing that tongue firmly against her anus, lapping away at her more insistently. And finally she felt his tongue pushing itself into her, pushing against the barrier, forcing its way into her anal passage. His tongue seemed longer than any tongue she had known, stronger, more forceful as it snaked into her. And then, suddenly, he pulled away from her bottom and came up to her face, kissing her, forcing the tongue that had just probed her ass between her lips. Their kiss was passionate, heightened by awareness that his tongue, those lips had just been so intimately probing her exposed bottom.
Now he pulled away and retreated behind her again. This time she felt something else probing between her cheeks, his finger. Slowly he began to slide it into her ass, very, very slowly. She was tight but his entry was smooth, prepared, as it had been, by his tongue. She was so exquisitely sensitive now as she felt his finger enter to the first knuckle, then the second. Finally, the entire finger was wedged into her anal passage. He savored the sensation of the tight, smooth walls of that passage pressing in on his finger. And as the fingertip probed beyond the narrow anal passage into the suddenly wider cavity of her rectum, he bent that fingertip and ran it in a circular motion along this lower part of her rectal membrane. Ingrid sighed deeply, luxuriating in the utterly sublime sensations.
And then he pulled out his finger.
"Before we proceed any further, you will need to be given an enema," he told her.
He took her gently but firmly by the arm and helped her off the table. She stood by him now, blindfolded, needing his guidance. He led her as she took a few steps, then let go of her arm.
She heard him turn on the faucet, knowing he was filling the enema bag. After many long moments he took her hand and brought it to the enema bag, which she felt now to be warm and swollen and heavy. She heard him make adjustments, guessing he was hanging the bag from the stand's hook, attaching the nozzle to the hose. Again, he took her hand and this time brought it to the black nozzle, the slightly menacing spout.
"Bend over, and place your hands on your knees," he instructed and she did as she was told. Suddenly she again felt his finger between her cheeks, but this time it was slick. He was applying lubricant. He took his time lubricating her anus, working the jelly inside her anal passage. Then she felt something else inserted into her ass, something harder than a finger, the enema nozzle.
He left it place, teasing her, she wondering when the enema would begin. And then it did, the warm water forcefully injecting itself into her rectum, gravity doing all the work. At first it felt warm, soothing. But quickly it began to bloat her, to fill her innards. She took a deep breath and bit her lip as she endured the transformation from warmth to a sense of rectal fullness and frank bloating and distension, now accompanied by cramping. How much of the bag had already emptied into her, how much remained, how much more could she endure? And yet she was determined to endure it, to endure all without complaint. Sensing the profound sense of bloating, the cramps he knew she was experiencing, he gently caressed her swollen stomach, then brought her own hand down so she could feel its convex curvature. She was amazed at how strikingly rounded her belly had become, her innards frightfully distended by the enema's extravagant contents.
After the contents of the bag fully emptied into her he removed the nozzle. But immediately something else was inserted in its place. She could tell from its shape, narrow at the tip, then increasingly wide, then suddenly narrow again, that it was a buttplug. She'd had such plugs inserted into her rectum previously. But never to forcefully retain a high volume enema, such as she was retaining now. He led her back, on wobbly legs, to the leather table and had her lay on her side, her legs pressed up to her chest, telling her to breath deeply and rhythmically. His voice was instructive, but soothing. The sense of fullness was profound, as was the need to relieve herself. But the plug made this impossible, and she knew it. Even more important, she knew, nothing would happen without his approval.
After what seemed an eternity he took her hand again and led her from the table. He opened a door and gently pushed her inside.
"You may relieve and clean yourself up now. Then come out when you are ready."
She did just this. When she opened the door to the bathroom, he was there, taking her by the hand and leading her, this time, to the examining table. He helped her onto the table on her back, lifting each leg, inserting an ankle into each of the stirrups, pulling her legs far back, jackknifing them, spreading them widely. She felt him tighten the leather straps around her ankles. Her asshole was even more vividly exposed in this position, she knew, than when she had been up on elbows and knees.
Again, she felt his finger between her buttocks, probing externally, running over the anal surface, examining the ridges, She heard him pick up the jar of lubricant and, next, his finger was back in her crack, rubbing lubricant into the crevice, digging into her anal passage, his entry smoother now, eased by the slick lubricant. She had wiped off the earlier residue after her enema, so now it needed to be reapplied. One again she felt the exquisite sensation of his single finger digging through her anus and into her rectum. Inside, he rotated his finger, exploring, massaging, stimulating the sensitive membranes. Ingrid always loved this moment, a finger probing her bottom, her own finger or another's. Her anus and rectum, she knew, were extravagantly receptive to pleasurable sensations. And it was not just the pleasure she craved, but the intrusion, the dilation, the insistent forcefulness of entry, of invasion into a region not designed to be so intruded upon.
"You have a nice, smooth tight ass, Ingrid," he told her, pleased.
"Thank you," she said softly, in gratitude, so very pleased.
Then he slowly withdrew her finger and she sensed him get something. Again he brought it to her hand and let her feel it. She absorbed the cool, smooth, metallic feel of the speculum.
"This is a speculum. I'm sure you've had one inserted to probe your vagina. This time it will be inserted in your anus."