NURSE MECCA's Intoxicating Enema

The Nurse snapped her rubber gloves with authority. " Now I told you this won't hurt, STOP SQUIRMING!"

The patient's pale blue smock is on him backwards, the Velcro seam dangling open. His wrists are bound to the sides of the Plexiglas table. In his fingers he clutches the tips of the smock.

"Why are you so afraid?". Nurse Mecca asks him. "This is just a routine enema, but if you keep this up, I might have to double the dose.

You know it helps to relieve stress - and you do look stressed out." Between his legs he can see, looking through the Plexiglas, the contents of the drawers built into the table. The top one is packed with large - very large - pins.

Insidious rubber tubes hang from their tips. He wonders, repelled and attracted, what they might extrude, and where.

"All this equipment frightens you?" she put the blindfold in piace. "Now you won't be tormented by any new, maybe more unpleasant sights."

Now his ankles, wrists and head are calmed by leather. The routine enema can begin - the routine white wine enema - the intoxicating extra dose enema which he must hold in his tightly clenched asshole for as long as the nurse orders him to.

First comes the preparatory work.

Nurse Mecca shakes the can of shaving cream thoroughly and squirts some onto her rubber-gloved hand. She lathers the patient's inner thighs, his balls and all around his cock and lower stomach. "Where did that razor go? Did you see the straight razor slave?"

"No Mistress."

"Damn! I'll just have to use a disposable but the blades on these are fine though. It's just not as exciting."

She starts at the belt line, shaving down towards his cock. After the main shaving is done, the really close work can begin. There's still stubble surrounding his cock and some stray hairs drooping from his balls.

She grabs the skin of the scrotum between her forefinger and thumb and pulls, elongating it and giving the razor a more even, smoother surface on which to do its cutting.

The patient is now freed of unworthwhile hair.

An aftershave smelling of the mountains would be nice, but this is a medical room.

Alcohol pads work just fine and they provide peace of mind. Those little crimson dots which speckle his manhood won't become infected. The sting of the alcohol sees to that.

"It's too bad I had to blindfold you slave. A good shaving down like this makes your cock look so much bigger," Mecca told him. It was true. His cock appeared more weighty, ponderous - as it shifted from left to right, big and fat, growing longer and longer. "There seems to be some residual swelling at the head," Nurse Mecca observes, "let me apply some pressure and hopefully bring that down." What she dresses it with is a mystery to the patient. It incorporates leather in its design somehow. There are narrow little straps, three of them, and one, maybe two more which hook around his balls. With this instrument tightly in place the pulsing piece of meat has no where to go at all. Where the leather rubs on the freshly shaven areas it chafes terribly. The patient knows better than to complain. He can learn to live with this sensation easily enough.

"I`m going to leave you alone for awhile," Mecca informs him, "try not to make any sudden movements. In fact, try not to move at all, no part of you. I mislaid the razor. Ha! Just kidding. I'll be back as soon as I've filled the enema bag."

"What will you be using in it, Nurse Mecca?" the slave mutters. She spins around and yells, "Don't you ever question me!" "I'm sorry, I'm sorry . . . I'll do better Nurse Mecca. I was just curious," he said apologetically, wimp that he was. "You forgot that I have you in a very compromising position," she warned as she left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Now he had really done it. She was really angry. A bead of sweat forms on his brow and runs down to the blindfold. For the first time the patient notices the medical room's peculiar smell - and its silence.

The darkness before his naked face makes it even more frightening. He again clutches the tips of his gown with trembling fingers. Nurse Mecca is gone a long time, but she is still there for him in his darkened fantasy, even in her absence.

But who could forget her?

Mistress Mecca: tonight a nurse, yesterday an inquisitor and tomorrow a Domina goddess. Her short dark hair and stern face framed by thin, oval eyebrows won't allow forgetting.

Nurse Mecca returns.

"The bag's full to bursting, I wish you could see it - but you're not, are you?" she asked.

"Not what, Mistress?"

"Filled to bursting."

"No. I cleaned myself before I came."

"You better. Do you like wine?"

"Yes."

"Good," she sys as she hangs the bloated bag from a stainless steel post, "I've got a rich, dry chardonnay for you"

So it's not a cold water enema after all, he thought. The patient reflects on his good fortune while he can, before his mind is flooded by new sensations.., by a fuller, rounded-bodied invasion of his lower plumbing. The nozzle slid in so easily. He gasps as the wine follows suit.

"Hold it all slave," she orders while withdrawing the long, while plastic tip. "I don't want to see one drop ooze out."

To help prevent unpleasant drainage she installed a hard plastic butt- plug and the slave moaned out his unspeakable thanks.

"You don't have to drive home tonight, do you?"

Soon he's drunk on a wine recommended for fish, chicken and veal, but happily consumed, none the less, by a legion of nameless slaves - rectally - for the amusement of their Mistresses, especially Mistress Mecca who loves to play with catheters, enema bags and such at Diva's dungeons.

Do you need her services?

Mistress Mecca may be reached in Los Angeles at 310.398.8000.10