Page 23 of Layla

“You might as well settle in.

“You’ve got a long night ahead.”

***

Layla was on the floor, laying on her side, covering her face as she waited for the hose to invade her tight hole.

It was thin at least—she’d gotten a good look at it while Kirk had been preparing the enema. The size was of small comfort, though.

Her body trembled. She fought hard to hold back the tears. She knew she could say the safe word and be done with the moment right now. Yes, even though this was not kinky fun but rather actual Domestic Discipline, they had an agreed upon safe word.

She wouldn’t use it, though.

She trusted Kirk too much.

She also knew this was for her own good. She’d been so naughty. Why had she spoken that way? That haughty attitude was coming back to haunt her now, that was for sure. And running off without telling Kirk was just plain bad judgement. She couldn’t believe she’d been so reckless.

“You hold still,” Kirk said. “It’s going to go in that little bottom of yours. Don’t fight it.”

That was easier said than done, she thought, but she managed to keep her body somewhat slack as the skinny, lubricated hose pierced her virgin hole.

She whimpered. “This…is…awful.”

“Reckon you should have thought about that before you acted like a little brat,” Kirk said with a shake of his head. “I bet you’ll think twice next time.”

She sure would.

The hose slid deeper inside her. She gritted her teeth as the warm water mixed with medicine began flowing from the bag Kirk held. It kept coming and coming and soon her bowel was full, a heavy pressure pushing in on her as she clinched her insides tight. It seemed as if it took forever for that bag to drain. And Kirk was making sure to get every last drop out.

She felt some relief as the hose finally slid from her, but with that growing pressure, it wasn’t much. She exhaled sharply as Kirk plied her body until she was laying flat on her back.

“Diaper time,” he announced.

She thought of protesting, but by that time, he was already midway into strapping the garment around her waist.

“This is one of those thick Mountainville Supremes, so it will be able to take whatever you throw at it,” he said.

As if on cue, her tummy rumbled.

“Whoa. Sounds like you’ll throw a lot at it, too,” he said with a dose of humor shading his words.

Of course, Layla found nothing funny about any of this.

The stress in her stomach was growing as Kirk helped her up, took her elbow, and guided her toward the nearest corner.

“You’ll stand in that corner until I tell you. Is that clear?”

“But Daddy!” She winced, catching the term she’d used, and said, “Kirk. I’m going to…” She couldn’t even bring herself to verbally acknowledge the humiliating fate that awaited her.

“I suspect you will,” he said. “That’s sort of the point of an enema. Come on. Nose to the wall. Now.”

She groaned but didn’t argue.

A minute into the punishment and she was shifting about anxiously from foot to foot. The groans from her stomach grew louder. The strain in her bowels increased.

Ten minutes later, her bottom cheeks were clinched as tight as possible. She was in complete agony. She bounced on her knees once but stood upright—well, as upright as she could given the circumstances—and tried to be a good girl by keeping her nose to the wall. Five minutes later, she cried out as her diaper grew wet and heavy. She continued to fill it for what seemed to be an eternity. By the time she was done, it sagged far lower than its normal position.

Yet Kirk still didn’t call for her.

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