Author:
Daniel
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Date Posted: Wednesday, July 06, 2016, 07:16: pm
" .... It must be especially humiliating to be held down at 16 ...."
When I was about 13 - 14, I managed to convince a girl who lived across the street to remove her undies and open the front buttons of her cotton print dress by unbuttoning the fly of my dungarees and unsnapping the white boxer shorts so she could see my thingy
We both were of strong Irish Catholic families and had not been told anything more about sex than "Don't touch it, don't think about it and don't look at someone else's .... "
We were in the same class at the local parochial school where they did have a special health class for girls, but I don't believe it was very informative. It did apparently arouse her curiosity. I don't recall the boys being told anything about interpersonal relationships.
We concealed ourselves among some bushes an trees along side my house and somehow mom caught us, finding me with pants around my ankles, drawers about half way down. Charlotte had opened the front of her dress and let me hold her panties, although I am not sure they were called that then.
I guess mom had seen us through the window and figured out what we were about to do as she appeared suddenly grabbing me by the left ear, which I think is still stretched more than the other, and my friend by a forearm, dragging us into the house to the kitchen. In the melee my pants and shoes had been left behind and my undies were only still on one foot. "Stay there and don't move. Either of you. Not a muscle !" Mom dialed Charlotte's mom and told her something about catching us half naked.
I know I was petrified and Charlotte's eyes were wide with fear, both of us were in tears. She had pulled a part of her dress up to cover her face, leaving her just as exposed below the waist as I was in my tee shirt.
Her mom arrived and after sizing up the situation and listening to my mom, smacked her daughter and pulled the dress all the way off, " You want to show yourself off like a harlot to everyone, then you don't need a dress." (Or something like that)
Mom said something about purging Satan from my body and brought out an enema bottle, hose and three or four inch long nozzle. I was pulled over the kitchen table and received several hard cracks across my bare heiney with some kitchen tool.
The bag was filled with soapy water and my cheeks spread in Charlotte's full view. The bag was refilled and I was told to not let a drop out as I was sent to the small bathroom just off the laundry room.
While I sat and let the contents go I could hear Charlottes getting smacked and then screaming as she begged her mom not to put the nozzle in. Mom stood at the bathroom door watching and lecturing me about sin and the devil's handiwork, then making me wipe and stand up.
I was dragged out and brought back to await further purging as a piece of brown Kirkman laundry soap was pushed into my mouth. Through teary eyes I could see the hose stuck in my friend's heiney hole and the four or five crimson stroke marks across her pale white cheeks. She was sent off to the toilet and my enema was repeated. Once the soapy water was forced into my heiney I had to stand at the sink in the bathroom trying to hold the fluid while I waited for Charlotte to finish and wipe herself.
The process was repeated tree times and my anus was sore, my mouth gagging, full of the soap and my behind was sore and red. Somewhere along the way Charlotte's bra had been pulled off so her little breasts where exposed and my sister and cousin had come to the kitchen to watch us being punished.
Finally both of us were given a cloth to wipe up the trail of droplets from the sink and table to the toilet itself on our hands and knees. Mom pointed to a corner, "You want to show the girls your little peepee, so you can kneel there in front of them while you say the Rosary," and I had to kneel there, with Charlotte, both of us still naked Rosary beads in hand praying the fifty prayer ritual we knew so well. At least we had been allowed to spit the bar of soap out.
The moms sat at the table and had a cup of coffee and then her mom took hold of her pony tail in one hand, her dress in the other and sort of dragged her across the street with out a stitch of clothes on to their house.
For some time we were kept apart, but eventually we got together and began to laugh abut how we looked with the nozzle sticking in our butts and one rainy afternoon when she and my sister were together in the basement rec room we did finish our exploring each other.
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