“Y-yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl. Here comes the water.”
There’s a softsnickand then an uncomfortably full feeling as the water rushes into my bowels. It’s not horrible… at least not at first.
I don’t have a clock to keep track of time, but it isn’t very long at all before the first cramp hits. My stomach contracts, as if it’s telling me that it’s time to start looking for a bathroom, and I can’t help but wince at the flash of pain.
“Don’t worry, baby. That’s just the soap and water washing those naughties out of your tummy. You’ll feel so much better once we get them all out.”
Another cramp hits, this one even stronger, and I can’t stop the whine that slips from my lips. “Daddy… it hurts.”
“I know, little one.”
Pain stabs at my stomach, sharp, blinding, and I let out another whine. “Daddy, please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
“What are you sorry for?”
I can barely think through the pain, but maybe if I answer him, he’ll end my torment. Gasping for air, I try to focus, tothink. “I–I threw my plate against the wall and made a mess! I’m sorry, Daddy, please! It hurts, it hurts!”
“You still have a few minutes left, little one. We need to give the soap time to work so we don’t have to repeat this lesson.”
The thought of going through this hell again has a sob rising up in my throat, choking me. “Please… I can’t…”
“Tabitha.” His voice is sharp, cutting through the haze of agony covering my brain. “You are not allowed to let go yet. If you make a mess, Daddy will spank your bottom and then you’ll get another enema with Daddy’s cum. Do you hear me?”
Oh, god. No. I might actually die if that happens. “Y-yes, D-Daddy,” I manage to gasp out between waves of pain.
“Good girl. Just a little while longer.” A gentle hand comes to rest on my sweat-soaked forehead. “You’re being so very bravefor me, little firecracker. I know this is a hard punishment, but you’re taking it so well. It’s almost done.”
His praise doesn’t dull the pain, but it does somehow make it easier to bear. For what feels like hours, I whimper and whine and cry my way through wave after wave of cramping in my tummy. And just when it feels like I might actually die if I have to hold it in one second longer, Daddy’s arms slide under me and I’m lifted into the air.
“Here we go, baby,” he says as he gently sets me down on the cool porcelain. “You can let go now.”
The humiliation I felt during our wedding ceremony is nothing compared to what courses through me now as I empty my bowels into the bowl beneath me. Sobs rack my body as the enema does exactly what Daddy said it would, cleaning me out until I am empty, drained of every bit of naughty energy I might have possessed.
“Shh, baby. It’s all over. Daddy’s going to get you cleaned up now.”
I’m too weak to stand on my own, so he helps me to my feet and wipes me clean before carrying me to the tub, which is already full. Tears are still streaming down my face as I sink into the warm water, but at least I’m not sobbing quite as hard anymore.
Daddy says something to Uncle Ford, but I’m too exhausted to try and eavesdrop. Instead I simply float, my eyes closed as I let the water ease the lingering aches in my body.
Then Daddy is kneeling beside the tub, reaching for the bottle of body wash to squirt onto the washcloth in his hand. “My sweet little girl,” he coos, rubbing the cloth gently over my arm. “You had such a big day, didn’t you?”
“Uh-huh,” I answer, adding a pitiful sniffle in the hopes it might gain me some more of that soothing sympathy. “So big.”
“I know, baby. Daddy’s going to get you cleaned up and into something comfy to wear to bed.”
He makes quick work of the bath, taking a surprising amount of care with my sore bottom hole as he washes me clean. When I’ve been fully scrubbed from head to toe, he scoops me out of the tub and dries me off with the fluffiest towel I’ve ever felt in my entire life. My eyes are drooping closed by the time he wraps me in a fresh diaper and pulls an oversized t-shirt over my head.
“I had to have everything from our shopping trip shipped, so your new clothes won’t be here until tomorrow,” he explains quietly, almost apologetically. “But Daddy’s shirt will keep you nice and cozy for one night.”
Once I’m clean and dry and dressed for bed, he carries me to a giant chair, where he sits with me on his lap. He kicks his foot, and the chair begins to rock back and forth, the movements making it harder and harder to keep my eyes open.
“All right, little one. We need to talk about what happened downstairs.”
Snuggling into him, I shake my head. “Don’t wanna.”
“I know, baby. But Daddy needs to know what happened. Why were you so upset?”
