Well, If Princess Di...

Well, if Princess Di...

by Abe

I learned a lot my first semester at college.  My grades were good, but mostly I learned from the interesting people I met.  My roommate, Dee, was hot.  She dyed her hair red, wore green eye shadow, tight sweaters, short skirts, and thong panties.  She said she regularly removed her pubic hair, that her cunt lips were as smooth and bare as a baby's bottom.  I never visually verified that claim.  She claimed she was “virga intacta”, but she was very popular, was out every night.  Her thing was oral sex, since eighth grade.  One time, at a fraternity party, she stayed out all night.  The slut  said she had given a blow job to every brother.

I, on the other hand, wore no make up and tended to flannel shirts and jeans.  My social life was more limited, but I did meet Bret.  He was a senior, and he had his career all planned out: law school, run for prosecutor, then for congress.  I thought he might be “Mr. Right”.  He taught me what breasts are for.  He admired my bust, and after a while I let him touch it.  Then I would leave my bra off when we dated, and in the privacy of his parked car he would unbutton my shirt and play with my breasts.  At first, it seemed pointless, but I let him play.  He would stroke them and squeeze them and lick them and even suck my nipples.  Each date, my breasts seemed to be more sensitive and I began to look forward to his fondling them.  Then, when his sucked on my nipples, I would get juicy and tingly between my legs.   I liked it.

My second semester was miserable.  My roommate, Dee, flunked out.  Bret dumped me when I wouldn't let him take off my jeans.  My father was diagnosed with cancer and couldn't work.  I was sick with grief and depression, my mother likewise.   When my father died, she fell apart.  The house and car went to pay the horrendous hospital bills, and Mom had never worked, didn't think she could get a job, so we were facing poverty, owing thousands and thousands of dollars, plus my student loans.  Mother appealed to her older sister, Maude, who agreed to let her live with her.

So, I was hopeful when Mom picked me up in a Cadillac SUV, Aunt Maude's, and we loaded in my few possessions: clothes, books, sheets and blankets, a laptop, and a clock radio.  Aunt Maude had married a Doctor Werther, who lived on a farm about 90 minutes away from the college.  He was Chief of Surgery and on the board of directors of a local hospital.  Maude was a nurse.   “He likes to be called 'Doctor', and you can call Maude 'Aunty'.  They have three sons, Mathew, Mark, and Luke, from a previous marriage, and a younger daughter, Jo, who is about your age.  They are willing to take us in, but we will have to fit in with their family and do our share of the work.  They used to have a Mexican woman who did the cooking and cleaning.  She's gone, but you and I can take her place.” 

“It sounds like indentured servitude,” I said, half seriously.

“It's only fair.  If they are happy with us, they may help financially.    At any rate, it's a roof over our heads and food on the table.  They are a strange family.  I'm sure they have lots of money, but they live quite simply.  They  eat organic food from the farm, drink raw milk from their dairy cows and wine they make themselves.  Maude is She-Who-Must-Be -Obeyed.  You must follow her orders.  She plans the meals that we will serve.  Tonight is a fresh salad, greens from the farm, and a rabbit stew.  They keep rabbits for meat, free-range chickens for eggs,  a herd of grass-fed beef, and pigs who live in the woods, along with some wild deer.  Everything is natural.  It's like a religion with them.  They are health nuts.  Oh, one other thing.  Dr. and Mrs. Werther insist that everyone living there practice colonic cleansing.”

“What?”

“Daily enemas.”

“Gross!”

“It's not so strange.  Princess Di, Prince Charles' wife, used to have enemas professionally administered daily, spent thousands of pounds for the service.  Perhaps it helped her stay thin.  You will get used to it.  Actually, I think I feel much better, for ridding my body of toxins.  Anyway, it's the rule, so it must be done.”

We drove through mostly flat or rolling farmland, huge fields of corn or soybeans, until we got into low hills and woods with fields in the valleys.  The Werther Farm house was long and low, along the crest of a low hill, and behind it, attached by enclosed walkways, were an eight stall garage and an earth sheltered indoor swimming pool,  plus, farther away,  various barns and outbuildings and solar panels and a wind turbine.  I was to share a room and bath with Jo.

I met the family at dinner.  Doctor sat at the head of the table.  He was white haired, tall and straight, always at attention, like a military man.  Maude and Jo sat at one side of the table while “the boys” sat opposite.  They were tall, fair, nordic types.  Mathew was about 30.  He managed Werther Farms.  Mark managed Werther Motors, selling new and used cars and trucks.  Luke, about 25, ran Werther Farm Supply, selling farm machinery, tools,  bib overalls,  feed, seed, baby chicks in the spring; you name it.   Jo, their half sister, was a little older than I, but she looked younger.   Mom and I served the salad and stew, in big bowls, family style, and then joined the others at the table.   We all drank home made peach wine.  When the meal was finished, Nurse Maude distributed “dietary supplements” to each of us and watched while we swallowed them.  I did the washing up.

Afterward, I went to our room and got acquainted with Jo.  The house was not air conditioned, and it was summer, so tee shirts and shorts were in order.  Jo supplied me with some of hers.  “You will be more comfortable without a bra,” she advised.  Well, the world is full of interesting people.  As we talked, it seemed Jo had only two goals in life.  The first was to please her father and older brothers, doing anything they wanted, mostly farm work.  The second goal was to ride her horse, Arab.  She loved him, erotically, and when she could be astride Arab she had no interest in other males.  After an hour or so I had to go poop.  I concluded that Aunt Maude had dosed me with something to promote  colonic cleansing.

“OK,” Jo said, “time for your daily.”  She led me down the hall and walkway to the swimming pool, where the air was even hotter and more humid than in the house.  Along the side of the pool was a long room, all white tile, which Jo called the gym.  There were several pieces of  exercise equipment, wash bowls, cabinets and shelves, toilets, and showers, all in one room.  There were hoses with shower heads on them hanging from the ceiling over large drains in the floor.  I jokingly remarked that the whole family could shower at the same time.  “Yes,” said Jo.   Maude came in, also in tee shirt and shorts, no bra.  She ordered us to “strip off”, which we did. 

I was kind of embarrassed, standing there naked, and Aunty must have sensed it.  “Have you ever practiced colonic cleansing before?” she  asked.  I replied no.  “Well, you can watch while Jo is cleaned out, so you will see how it's done.  She can help when it's your turn.”  There were two low, padded benches, parallel and about a foot and a half apart.  Jo got up on them with a knee and an elbow on each.  He looked like an animal, on all fours, her rump higher than her shoulders, her knees spread apart.  Her little rosebud anus was visible between her widespread butt cheeks, and below her anus her cunt lips swelled out, sparsely covered with wavy pubic hair.  I hated the thought that I might be displayed like that.  Jo dropped her head, so I could see her face, upside down, between her thighs.  She smiled at me.

Aunt Maude filled a large red rubber bulb with liquid soap and warm water from a shower hose.  She attached a white nozzle, about the diameter of a pencil but swelling out, at the base, like the bell of a trumpet.  With one forefinger, Aunty applied a dab of lubricant gel to Jo's rosebud and deftly slid the nozzle into her.  Jo smiled.  Aunty squeezed the bulb, forcing the soapy water into Jo's rectum.  When she removed the nozzle, Jo tried to hold the water inside her, with only a little leaking out.  The Aunty gently slapped Jo's rump, and Jo expelled the sudsy liquid in stream, as if from a hose.  Aunty used her shower hose to flush the soapy slop down a floor drain and then repeated the injection with clear water.  Jo held the water, then let it go.  There was a second rinse, and then Jo was allowed to dismount.

Jo helped me to get up on the parallel benches.  When Aunty approached me with the forefinger, I flinched and almost slipped off, so Jo strapped my calves and forearms to the benches.  That caused me some anxiety.  I couldn't get off, and I felt terribly exposed, with my butt in the air and my sex displayed for Jo and Aunty to see.  I felt the lube and then the nozzle slipped in with no great discomfort.  It's one thing to take a dump, passing big lumps out, but something the size of a pencil going in was strange and unnerving.  Then the soapy solution flowed in.  I could feel it filling me, strange but not painful.  I felt a bit as if I were being raped, helpless as they invaded my body.  Aunty left the nozzle inside me for what seemed like a long time. I looked through the vee of my spread thighs and saw Jo smiling at me.  When Aunty slapped my rump and removed the nozzle, I gratefully expelled the soapy water.   Jo washed it down the drain.

The treatment with plain water, the rinse cycle, so to speak, was similar, but already I was getting used to it.  Aunty did the rinse twice.  “There, that wasn't so bad, was it?” she asked cheerily.  I said I thought I could learn to put up with it.  “Jo, before you release the straps, why don't you do something to improve your cousin's attitude?  You know, do something nice.”  Aunty left, and Jo and I were alone.

Jo grinned at me and circled around me, pausing to examine my tits and cunt.  My breasts were hanging down, and she used two fingers to stroke my left nipple, which soon swelled erect.  She cupped my left breast in one hand and tweaked my right nipple.  “You should like coming to the gym.”   After a few minutes of behaving like Bret,  she had me juicy and tingly, even though I am not a lesbian.  Then she took a shower hose with the shower head removed and adjusted the temperature and water flow so body temperature water flowed out in a strong stream.  I thought she was going to shove it up my ass, but instead she held it a the back of my slit, so the water flowed between my labia like a river through a canyon.  I could feel the inner lips fluttering in the stream, and then she adjusted the angle so the water impinged on the front of my cleft.  I had always been too ashamed to finger my clitoris, so I was surprised when the water “fingered” my clit, and the effect was electric.  I found myself gasping and shaking as the “tingles” grew stronger and stronger.

Finally, my insides went crazy, and I shouted, “Oh, God!” and leaned forward to get away from the water which ravaged my sex.  Jo turned off the water and watched while I slumped, breathing heavily, until the strange feelings faded.  “What happened?” I asked.

“Looked like the big O to me.  Surely that wasn't the first time you've  had an orgasm.”

“I guess it was.”

“Welcome to the Werther family, “ she said.  We dressed and went to bed.

So, on day two, I was looking forward to going to the gym.  I wasn't  embarrassed to see Jo  cleansed,  and didn't mind when Jo strapped me down on the benches.  Aunty administered the soap as before, but then she rinsed me with the nozzle on the end of a hose, so the water just kept coming.  I could feel it gurgling into my guts, mildly painful as it worked its way up toward my ribs.  Aunty let me squirt it out, but then she repeated the hose treatment.  As the pressure built up, water began to leak out around the nozzle, but she pushed it farther in, so the larger diameter base dilated my anus and held the water in.  I started gasping and whining that it hurt, and Aunty finally allowed me to let go.  Most of the rinse water shot out with a gush, but then it seemed that I couldn't get rid of it all, and dirty brown stuff spurted, then dribbled out.  Aunty rinsed again and again, until clear water dribbled, but I was concerned that, when I dressed, I might soil my shorts with leaks from my stretched anus.  Aunty must have known what I was thinking.  “This will stop the leaks,” she said.  With a  little lubricating gel, she easily inserted a rubber plug, shaped like a Coke bottle.  The tapered end went in easily, since I had been stretched by the nozzle, and the waist of the plug, about an inch in diameter, was firmly held by my contracting anal muscles, while the larger base nestled between my ass cheeks.   Then she left me to Jo.

Jo teased me.  “Ready to go back to our room?  Shall I unstrap you?”

“No, please.”

She sprayed my hanging breasts with water.  “Please,” I said.

“What's in it for me?” she asked.

“What do you want?”

“If  I do you, I think you should do me.”

I thought for a few seconds.  I'm not a lesbian!  But,  I wanted another of those orgasms.  “OK,” I said.  Jo gave me the hose in the twat treatment again.  She never pushed it in.  I was still a virgin, I suppose, but the water splashing there where my labia come together in front drove me crazy with pleasure, and when the big O occurred, I was exhausted.  When she finally released the straps, and I could stand up, I felt the plug in my ass was squeezed between my buttocks.  It felt strange.  “Do I have to leave that plug inside me?”

“Yes, until you have to poop, tomorrow.”  She lay back on the floor, her legs spread in a vee.   Her slit, not well concealed by her skimpy pubic hair, was fully exposed to me.  “Breasts first,” she ordered.  I imitated Bret, not the nipple sucking, but the stroking and squeezing.  “OK,” she whispered, “Now the water.”  I applied the hose, from the front, directing the water so it spread her outer labia and exposed the little ridge of her covered clitoris.  I had never seen such a thing, and I was fascinated as the hood retracted, or the clitoris grew.  Jo started to writhe on the floor, and I had to work to keep the water aimed at her clit.  “Yes!” she sighed and rolled onto her tummy.  “That was a good one.  I can't do that by myself.”

On day three I removed the plug and pooped, and then, I don't know why, I reinserted it.  Sitting there at dinner, it was a bit of a thrill,  feeling the chair pressing the base  of the plug, looking across the table at the three brothers and thinking they couldn't know what I was feeling.  Later, in the gym, it was pretty much the same as the previous evening.  Aunty approved of my keeping the plug in.  Jo used the hose to bring me to an orgasm, that wonderful, unfamiliar experience that I wanted more of.  Then I did her, sort of clinically, the way Aunty performed my colonic cleansing.  I'm not a lesbian, but I  enjoyed pleasuring Jo, watching her react, knowing I was in control.  I teased her by pulling the hose away just before she came, then starting over again when she complained.  I think she had two orgasms.

By day five, Aunty was having me administer the enemas to Jo and left it to Jo to do me.  She left as  Jo was making me retain the water, and Jo changed the procedure a bit.  Instead of letting me empty my bowels before inserting the plug, she pushed it in to force me to hold the water in.  Then, as I was there helpless with a plug in my butt and my belly bulging with water, she began the hose in the twat procedure.  There was sort of sensory overload: the water stretched my bowels, the plug stretched my anus, and the hose ravaged my cunt, causing exquisite tingles in my clit.  Somehow, my muscles spasmed, and the plug flew out, followed by a gallon or so of water.   Jo, sopping wet, stopped hosing my cunt and cleaned up a bit.  Then she injected another gallon or so, hot water this time, so I could feel it more, and she inserted a much larger plug, longer and thicker.  She worked in in and out a few times, so I would appreciate it's size.  When she resumed the water treatment for my clit, the resulting orgasm was a grand one, a ten.  When I came down from the orgasmic high, she pulled the plug and let me drain.  Then she reinserted it and insisted I keep it in.  Doing my chores and sitting at the table the next day with that monster  stretching my anus kept me constantly looking forward to our session in the gym.

Day six was different again.   On the way to the gym, we saw water on the floor around the pool.  Jo said her brothers often swam before it was our turn.  Don't worry about it.  This time,  Jo wanted me to strap her down, as she always did with me,  and she gave me a plug to use on her.  It was different from the ones I had experienced.  It was long and thin and rigid and had a battery in it.  She showed me how to turn it on and make it vibrate.  After the rinse cycle, she told me to insert it and turn it on.  “Oh, yes,” she said, “Push it a bit deeper.  Yes.  Now use the hose on me, while I'm strapped down.”  I did, and she obviously enjoyed it, demanding three orgasms before she asked to be released.

So then it was my turn.  When I was strapped down and helpless, she produced what she called a butterfly.  It was a rubbery thing, pale blue, with elastic straps and a wire to a battery box.  She put a belt on me and arranged the elastic from the belt to the butterfly, then between my legs and back across my buttocks to the belt.  The butterfly pressed against my labia, right over my clitoris.  The colonic irrigation went as usual, except that during the retention phase, with the big plug in my butt, she turned on the butterfly.  The vibrations excited me, but I couldn't quite come until Jo started wiggling the plug in my ass.  Then I came with a bang, wiped out.

On day seven, Jo asked me was I ready for a new experience.  I said yes.  Aunty came along and watched while I cleansed Jo.  She suggested I irrigate Jo's vulva while she was still strapped down, so I did, with Aunty giving me pointers until Jo screamed in ecstasy.  Strangely, I was past being embarrassed, to be doing Jo in front of an audience.  Then Jo strapped me to the benches, and Aunty pulled my plug.  She examined my gaping asshole and measured it with a couple of fingers.  Then she watched as Jo gave me the standard soap and rinse with the bulb and nozzle.  I wondered what was next.  Aunty applied more gel to my anus but did not reinsert the plug.  Then I got the shock of my life.

Looking back between my spread thighs, I saw the three brothers walk in, stark bark, with penises erect.  I had never seen a naked man nor an adult penis before,  and I'm afraid I screamed.  That was the wrong thing to do.   Jo stood there, naked and unashamed, as her brothers looked to Aunty for instructions.   “Mathew, you are eldest.  Why don't you go first?”  Mathew stepped up behind me.  Looking back, I could see his knees and his balls hanging down, level with my labia.  I decided I couldn't look, but I felt everything, as his penis pressed  against my anus and slid in without much difficulty, since that monster plug had stretched me.  I gasped as he plunged deeper, squashing my ass cheeks, and I could feel his prong pushing the walls of my vagina though the walls of my rectum.  He put his hands on my hips and bucked violently.  I think it was over in seconds.  He pulled out, and his semen dribbled down my labia.  Aunty hosed me off and then rinsed my rectum.  She warned the brothers that, under no circumstances was semen to get near my vagina.  Then, to make sure, she applied adhesive tape over my slit, from my anus to my navel, with additional pieces so that all my pubic hair was covered.  Jo had produced the blue butterfly, so that got taped in place, too.  I was certainly embarrassed, but the whole experience was so bizarre that I had to find out what was next.

It was Mark's turn.  He had no trouble penetrating my anus, and, as he pumped in and out,  Aunty turned on the butterfly, and  Luke fondled by tits.  I could feel Mark inside me, and as he announced that he was going to come, I beat him to it, with a shuddering orgasm that distracted me until I realized that Aunty was flushing me out and Luke was taking his place.  Luke was slow and gentle, and I was dreamily enjoying the unfamiliar sensations when the butterfly came on again.  I started up that climb of excitement until I reached the summit, the glorious orgasm, and the blessed relaxation afterward.  I wasn't really paying attention when they unstrapped me, and I got wobbley to my feet.  Luke stepped behind me and cupped my breasts, whispering that he really enjoyed me, that I am much nicer than Maritza, the Mexican woman.   Aunty said, “Well, that's that, and she is still technically a virgin, and you boys make sure she stays that way.”  While Luke held me upright with his hands gripping my tits, Aunty took hold of the adhesive tape and, with a mighty heave, ripped it off.  I screamed, as much in surprise as in pain, and she showed me that the sticky tape had pulled out my pubic hair.  Tentatively, I touched my smooth bare labia and thought of Dee.  Aunty let  Mathew do the honors, reinserting my monster butt plug.

My mother has told me that Doctor said that we are truly part of the family now, and she should not worry about financial matters.  She is happy, calm, and at peace now.   I don't know if Mom knows how I was initiated into the Werther family or what I do to keep them  happy with me.  I have become, in my own way, as much a slut as Dee was.  Any time it is convenient for them, one or more of the brothers will pull down my shorts and pull the plug.  Then he will bend me forward over the arm of a chair or lay me on my back, lifting my knees with his arms, while his rampant prod searches for my anus.  Now that they ejaculate regularly, they tend to last longer, fucking my ass, and I almost always enjoy the result.  I come without need of a butterfly or water hose or tit tugging, not that Jo and I don't enjoy those, too.  Jo tells me she will teach me to ride Arab.