Enema punishment

Circling the helpless beauty, you inspect her quivering body. Her boobs are small, but delightfully pert, almost conical, covered in a sheen of tears which drip from pink nipples stiff and swollen from vigorous caning. Her concave belly stretches down to hips welted by a riding crop and although her cunt is hidden from view behind the upright of the whipping post, you know the delicate flower has been thoroughly strapped and abraded and the muscles in her thighs ripple from the effort of staying on tiptoes to keep her abused crotch off the spiky bristles of the crossbar. From the back, you can see her nearly spherical bum cheeks held wide apart by the stainless steel spreader mechanism that lewdly reveals the raw purple ring of her sore arsehole. Last night, she found chastisement to this area particularly difficult to bear, so it's no surprise that you find your attention drawn back to this spot.

You take a short loop of plastic cord from the wall and flick it expertly between parted buttocks, inflicting searing agony the length of her cleft which elicits an inhuman howl of torment. With a smile of satisfaction, you repeat the lash, revelling in the hideous suffering of your guest. You don't even need to use much ****; repeated application to such a small and sensitive area does the trick perfectly well.

You're nearly up to a dozen when Bethany joins you. You silently beckon her closer and whisper in her ear whilst taking the total to a neat twelve, then stand back to let her carry out the instructions you've just imparted. The accommodating grad student takes one of the enema bags which always stand ready for use in a rack in the corner and hangs it from a hook in the ceiling, before inserting the tube into Skylark's rectum and securing it with the clamp on the butt spreader. This is not the first enema your guest has received during her visit, but this one is designed not for cleanliness, but punishment. You watch the blonde's face intently when the contents of her bag start to flow into her back passage. Her limpid blue eyes widen in shock and her sobbing cries rise into a ululating crescendo of anguish as she starts to thrash around in impotent desperation, heedless for the moment of the brush head between her legs scraping her pudenda mercilessly.

From conversations with your students, you know that the specially formulated chemicals in the enema cause excruciating pain, feeling like they're burning the recipient to the core, although no damage is actually done. It takes several minutes for the bag to empty, minutes that must seem to stretch for eternity for the unfortunate girl strapped to your whipping post. You continue to watch in satisfaction as utter despair begins to sink into the youngster's ashen visage, until finally Bethany winds the butt spreader closed, so that Skylark can keep the awful liquid in by squeezing her cheeks together. Your grad student then unfastens the tube from the bag and offers the end up to Skylark's mouth, the other still wedged into her bum hole. The broken-spirited teen takes it between her lips without demur and you explain the rules of the devious dilemma you've created for her.

"I'm going to flog you again, now. Two dozen strokes. Keep your arsehole shut and your punishment will be over. Alternatively, push the enema back through that tube and swallow it down and I'll stop the caning. However, spill even one drop and you'll be getting another whipping on top of the two dozen. Is that clear?"

The beautiful teen does her best to reply in the affirmative around the tube in her mouth and you select a wicked cane from your collection, tapping it threateningly on one throbbing nipple. You draw it back and slash down viciously.