Disciplinary Sodomy

She stands in the drugstore, in the middle of the aisle she fears most, stands there, feeling that familiar sensation of fullness and growing need in her bottom.

To her left and right the usual patent medicines, cold remedies, aspirins; the profusion of brightly colored bottles and jars that would be familiar to any shopper.  She stares at them, trying to keep her eyes away from the display directly in front of her, fixing her mind on the aspirin bottles she sees in order to keep her attention away from the tightness she feels in her rectum, and the pressure she feels more and more with each minute, further and further up her behind, deeper and deeper in her bowels.


“When you get home, I’m going to sodomize you.” She stands there in the drugstore, hearing his words, recalling what he’s told her, and how he made her dress and come into the room that morning and stand in the corner for the “preparatory” lecture.  Made her stand there in the corner with her skirt pinned up and his hand down inside the sheer seat of her panties, moving constantly as he explained what was going to happen that night.

“I’m going to sodomize you.  A long, deep, hard ass-fucking.  My cock, far up your rear end.”  His words, so soft and calm in her ear, but she heard the certainty behind them, and felt butterflies in her tummy as he spoke, as he let one finger of his hand probe down the deep crevice between her cheeks to tickle her, to make her wonder how far down it would go before it stopped.

“I’m going to sodomize you. You’ll feel me pulling down your panties, and spreading your cheeks and entering your behind.”  She felt his finger probing deeper, sliding down and down until its tip came to rest on the tight little dimple between her cheeks.  “They’re going to come down, your panties, and then I’ll spread your cheeks and slide my cock in.  Slowly.  Gently.

“But not so slowly or gently that you won’t remember you’re getting it for being a bad girl.  That its not for fun, its for punishment,” he added, letting the words envelop her, fix her attention, so much so that it took her a second or two to realize that he had removed his finger from her bottomhole, and was pulling her panties down in back to bare her bottom, to expose her quivering white cheeks to the cold air that blew across them, to the heat of his eyes, which she knew were fixed on them.

“A punishment ass fucking.  Disciplinary sodomy, which you’ll feel for a few days after, despite my gentleness, despite the care I’ll show when I fuck your tight little heinie.  She had to stand quite still and listen as he “explained” her fate to her, had to stand still as he moved his finger back down, entered her, moved it in and out of her now bared bottom, punctuating each major point with a forceful insertion.  She recalls having to bend and separate her cheeks for even deeper penetration when he thought her focus had slipped, recalls the humiliation of his vaselined finger deep in her bottom, of the greasy feel of the lubricant and how her bottom felt as it gripped his finger, almost of its own accord.


She stands there, in the grocery store, recalling him saying the words to her, stands in the store, feeling the plug in her behind, remembering his finger there as he spoke to her, moving his finger in and out of her tensing bottom as he delivered the lecture.

She tries to focus on the other medicines, but her eyes stray, and now they’re looking at the rack in front of her. At the disposable enemas.  And at the bedpans on the lower shelf.

Her tummy flips as she recalls what else he told her that morning, what he instructed her to buy, what he told her the punishment would be if she came home empty handed.  She stands there, recalling what he said, describing her return to the drugstore in his company, the short skirt, the tight stockings, the thin panties, the plug and the suppository in her bottom.

She recalls what he said about the strap, and how he’d set her bottom on fire with it before he took her back; how he’d give it to her there in the living room with the window open, and then take her back to the store, make her go to the aisle and wait, feeling the plug and suppository working, feel the fire in her cheeks.

Make her wait until he returned and told her to bend over and reach down to get the bedpan, knowing as she did so he’d see her skirt rise in back like the curtain rising at the theater, rising up to show her red martyred bottom through the translucent fabric of her panties, rising up to show the base of the plug, rising up to show her cheeks tensing and gripping it as the suppository melted and her bowels tightened and filled.


She stands there in the drugstore waiting, feeling the plug filling her bottom and the suppository working.  Waiting … waiting to hear his footsteps coming back down the aisle.  Waiting for the punishment – suspended for a brief moment – to resume.

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