Ah, there you are, crawling back to me like the spineless worm you are, my little klismaphilia freak.Your pathetic yearning for enema play, the vile thrill you get from being filled and emptied, is nothing short of laughable. But, oh, it's so entertaining for me. Groveling for more, desperate to be filled to the brim and then released, like a defective, leaking gutter. It's the humiliation you're after, isn't it? The complete and utter degradation.

Well, here's what you're going to do, you repulsive little addict: you'll prepare yourself, get that enema kit out, and think of me – your merciless Goddess. Fill yourself up, stretch and strain, feel the pressure building inside you, your insides twisting in sick anticipation. But you're not allowed to release, not until I grant you permission. You'll hold it, squirming and writhing in desperation, as my commanding, cruel voice fills your ears. And as you suffer, as you endure this torment, remember your pathetic place in my world. Remember, you're nothing but a wallet to me, a mere piggy bank for my amusement. Tribute after tribute – that's the only way you might earn your release. Pay up, you filthy little addict. Maybe, if you're lucky and I'm in a particularly generous mood, I'll count you down to your shameful, degrading climax. But don't get your hopes up – I enjoy watching you squirm far too much.

Enema Obsession The Klismaphilia Financial Chronicles 22 min

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