Female Pilot's Medical Procedures: Chapter 2
Several months after my promotion, the colonel called for me. In his office were the flight operations director and the senior pilot from our squadron.
"Josie, you might know that the Air Force has approved the design and is testing the performance of a new jet fighter trainer aircraft?"
"Yes, sir. There's been a lot of talk and speculation about it."
"They picked you as a skilled and mid-level experienced fast jet pilot. We want you and a less experienced but capable, fast jet pilot to join the aircraft introduction team. The training team approved my suggestion to put you forward with Lieutenant Amy Johnson as your second-in-command because you're both proficient, are part of the same flight, and are accustomed to working together."
"The reason for this two-tier approach to developing the aircraft is that experienced test pilots may act mechanically, while a less experienced pilot might not catch something. That's where you and Amy come in."
"Another justification is your management of the high altitude engine failure emergency in the front-line fighter. Another reason is that, as a mid-career, but seasoned pilot, you'll fly the aircraft, and when the simulator software is updated, considering your input, how well does it align with real life?"
"Sir, that's fantastic. We can handle it."
"Yes, so can I. Major Smithson has concurred with us."
"Sir, could you tell me where the action takes place?"
"Alright. Any early version of the simulator software is available for pilots learning the aircraft. You can do that here. Oh, and by the way, this will be challenging but entertaining."
"You haven't directly answered the question about the location."
"They selected an air base just two hundred miles away as the main site for this work. There will be a three-week ground school about the technical details of the aircraft. There's e-learning these days, but you'll have to spend time on the aircraft inspecting it minute by minute. They'll involve you in hands-on maintenance to understand how it works. It's a new step in our approaches."
"One aim is to assess the actual performance and handling against the simulator software. That's where they need you and Amy the most. They're fitting a detailed flight recorder to most of the project aircraft. It's unexpectedly compact."
"Sir, will life be eventful?"
"Yes, and I haven't addressed your question directly about the location. The Air Force selected an air base 200 miles away as the primary site for carrying out this work. There'll be a three-week ground school on the technical specifics of the aircraft. Nowadays, there's e-learning, but you'll need to inspect the aircraft and get hands-on with it. It's a new departure from our traditional procedures."
"Fine. Have you spoken with Amy?"
"No, and we'll speak with her next. I told her to be prepared for a discussion around an hour ago. Josie, have you heard enough?"
"Yes, sir, and thank you for considering us."
"All right, Josie, let's see how it goes with Amy."
We stood up and exited.
As I walked down the hallway, I saw Amy standing there, looking a little taken aback. "Don't worry," I said, "We'll be fine." I winked.
Two hours later, I met a pleased Amy.
"You accepted?"
"Yes."
The Colonel had a final parade and informed the squadron about the trainer introduction and development program. He discussed the significance of the fast jet trainer program, what an honor it was for the squadron, and how Lieutenant Jefferson would temporarily lead the squadron until the work with the introduction team concluded.
The work was overwhelming, and there was a lot of work to be done. The Air Force was dealing with immense pressure to simulate the effects of a shooting war. While they did a fantastic job, it was demanding. After two months of non-stop work on the program, they granted me a ten-day break of three full weekdays off and the remaining days at my regular base. Otis received a week at the base during the same time period.
I hadn't maintained a healthy diet, but had exercised. My bodily functions were less than optimal, and I felt bloated.
I visited our base doctor, who was the same person who had previously tested me.
"Let's use castor oil (CO) one morning, then follow up with a normal saline enema. It's unpleasant but reliable. When will you do it?"
"Tomorrow morning, on an empty stomach. Otis will be home as I want him there if I feel unwell."
The colonel called an end-of-the-day gathering and explained the trainer introduction and improvement program, praising the squadron for this recognition, and so on. Lieutenant Jefferson would be a temporary flight commander until the work with the introduction team was completed.
The job was tiring, and there was endless work. Air Force personnel were pushed past their limits to simulate wartime conditions. Although understandable, it took a toll on your energy. A real war would be far worse. After two months of nonstop work on the program, they gave me a ten-day "break" with three full weekdays off and the rest at my regular base. Otis had a week at the base during the same timeframe.
I'd neglected my diet but had exercised. My body functions were compromised, and I felt swollen.
I went to our base doctor, who was still Janet, the one who'd tested me.
"I recommend a hefty dose of castor oil (CO) followed by a good amount of normal saline enema. It's outdated but effective. Warm it to about 39C and I'll give you all the equipment. It's unpleasant but dependable and gets the job done. When will you do it?"
"I'll start tomorrow morning when my stomach is empty. Otis will be present to assist if necessary."
The doctor expressed excitement about this opportunity.
"Good luck with it. Keep this a once-a-month kind of thing, I'm sure you'll find other things to do."
This was Friday night, and I explained to Otis my plan for the following day. My recent sex experiences hadn't been particularly enjoyable, so I needed to address that. Saturday was here.
"Tomorrow morning, I'm going to prepare an adult dose of CO with a mix of lemon juice and sugar, all stirred in hot water. I've got an insulated flask ready, and I plan to fill it with 48°C water to drink after taking the CO. The instructions are clear. I might ask you to keep refilling the flask. Love, once you see me finish the CO, I'd like you to give me a heavy spanking on my lower curves."
"I need the stimulation and the sensations in my lower curves when I sit on the toilet. Can you be home while I'm doing this? When the CO's effects wear off, which is approximately two to three hours, I'll take a large-volume enema. Before I feel the urge to eliminate it, please give me another spanking so that when I release the enema, I'm resting on six new welts."
Otis chuckled and said, "I knew this would happen sooner or later. This will give you the major reset you need. Your face already looks better. How hard do you want your spanking?"
"As hard as possible without hurting me, please. It'll be incredibly painful, but the feelings afterward are unparalleled and will make me forget all my troubles."
I reached out and touched his hand.
"An hour after I've expelled the enema, get ready with the cane. I can handle a sore bottom because I'm not flying for a week. I can catch up on my pelvic floor muscle training, too. Tonight we're going out for dinner. When I'm sitting at the table with a sore bottom and seeing other women, I think to myself, could they handle a spanking like this and still feel unbothered? It excites me incredibly."
We had recently installed 'intimate douche spray' equipment (a bum-gun) used for cleaning one's parts after using the restroom. This device provided me with a quick orgasm in thirty seconds.
That night, I inserted a suppository, and it helped, but I knew there must be residue stuck in my intestines, and only CO could remove it. Back home after a lovely seafood dinner, I was in better shape and I drained Otis. Things were getting better.
We woke up early on Saturday. I soaked the thin cane overnight in water to make it more flexible and heavier. This cane was one I had bought at a sex shop while wearing civilian clothing and slightly disguised in a city where I was taking a class. No one recognized me, and I stocked up on all sorts of items, paying in cash to avoid a credit card trail! The thin cane barely bruised and provided an unforgettable sting!
I weighed myself and noted I had lost five pounds over the past couple of months.
Prepared for the bathroom, with the lights and the extractor fan on, I drank the CO mixture from a mug all at once. Fresh orange juice aided in masking the nauseating taste of the CO. It slowly made its way into my stomach, resulting in mild discomfort and cramping sensations. I wore a pair of shorts, no underwear, and a T-shirt.
"Otis, please give me the first six sharp stingers,"
My shorts came off. I bent over a chair in the bathroom, grasping a handle below the seat level. Using my fingers, I indicated to Otis where to apply the strokes. He gave me three strikes on each side of my lower curves, very close to the buttock-thigh crease. This area is extremely sensitive, and his hard strikes felt like electric shocks. From start to finish, this first spanking took about four minutes. My bottom was on fire, and my pussy was in action. It increased the sensitivity of my clitoris, and I'm confident it also did something for my tummy.
After about ten minutes, I felt the need to eliminate, and I stood in front of the toilet, squeezing my butt cheeks together with my hands, leaning forward to improve my muscle control. The moment I believed I couldn't hold it in, I sat down, spread my legs apart, leaned forward, and grabbed my knees. The discomfort, as the toilet seat compressed my spanked curves, was inexplicable. Within seconds there was a massive release, and the contents of my stomach rushed out of control, along with the usual unpleasant noises and smell. To help the pressure build, pushing recklessly is a good idea, but a dangerous one!
Otis remained discreetly out of sight, yet not out of earshot.
"Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm fine.
After stopping the car, I flushed the toilet. CO produces a burning feeling until it passes through you, so I used the bidet to ease the burning sensation.
I consumed warm water, attempting to fill a drinking mug every 10-15 minutes. Within 20 minutes, a second urge to eliminate appeared, and primarily water exited my body. This process occurred five times in approximately two hours until it ceased. After the second expulsion, I checked for any gold CO particles, indicating that some was still present. My last expulsion appeared clear, thus I believed it had ended, and my anus stopped burning. I remained in this position for an additional 20 minutes to verify. My cane scars caused painful sensations during this time due to the CO's effects.
I stood up and weighed myself again. An extra 4 pounds had vanished, possibly temporarily.
With a calibrated electronic thermometer, I warmed the saline to around half a degree above my body temperature. If it enters the body at body temperature, the intestines don't contract on it but rather allow it to flow.
I lay on a camping mat in the bathroom and gently inserted the nozzle. When I considered it far enough inside, I turned on the enema flow. The ball rotated around the indicator as I massaged my stomach clockwise to aid the flow. My stomach struggled, despite my careful consideration. If the cramps became too intense, I halted the flow, gauging the approximate amount used. With about 1.5 litres inside me, there was continuous cramping. I had enough.
Otis witnessed me administer the enema.
"It seems agonizing. I'm sorry for you."
"It's uncomfortable, but it's for a good reason. Allow some time."
Carefully, I removed the nozzle, stood up, and waited for the urge to expel the enema to begin. For now, all was quiet. Shortly after, I felt the emergence of the desire to expel, so I leaned over and told Otis, "Six more shocks, hard and relatively rapid, in case I can't withstand it any longer."
Otis administered six more electric shocks across my already screaming lower curves. It was agonizing, and I held on, trying to strengthen my resolve to face whatever might follow. My mother had severely punished me for inappropriate behavior during my late adolescence. I had a fantastic career, and I was fortunate to be married to a man like Otis, who understood me and could discipline and stimulate me at my request. He knew me so well.
The urge to expel became increasingly forceful, and I pushed it back, sitting on the toilet with waves of excruciating pain emanating from my abused backside. With my body in the same position, legs apart, knees clenched, my head down, the enema flowed out of me, as usual accompanied by disgusting farting sounds. Where did the gas come from? These sounds necessitated a harsh caning in their own right.
I was at peace with myself. The CO and enema had cleansed me internally, and the cane had cleansed my confused mind. I desired to show Otis how much I adored him by asking for six shocks across the fullest part of my bottom before we engaged in a session. This stimulation would guarantee invigorating orgasms, leaving me feeling reborn and on top of my game – a fortunate situation for most women.
I awaited 30 minutes after the final evacuation to ensure it had concluded. It was nearing noon after four hours of preparation.
Otis disliked watching me for too long because he struggled to maintain control.
"Dear, clean my bottom for me, and I will clean my pussy."
I knew that helping me with any form of intimate washing turned him on immeasurably! We had been apart for a while, and I owed it to both of us to offer a memorable session.
He aided me in my final cleanup before what I anticipated would be a sensual encounter. I obtained a thin cane and two bath towels and proceeded to the bedroom. My vagina was already soaked by the anticipation of what would follow, and I stood next to the bed on a towel with another towel over it.
I leaned forward, my head down and bottom up, legs separated, to part the already burning cheeks of my cute bottom.
"Otis, my bottom is yours. Please, six strokes across the plump region, and screw me senseless in the doggy position with your diamond-tipped tool. If I lie down, I won't receive the complete stimulation of you rubbing against my marks!"
"Whistle 'crack,' whistle 'crack'- this is how it sounded for six rounds, with barely a one-minute interval between them," he said. He hadn't forced it out completely; it was meant to captivate us, not inflict any real punishment. It hurt, but it was such a turn-on. Mentally, I could picture him making love to me, caressing my bruises, driving me into a euphoric state of climax.
During lovemaking, Otis was rougher than I'd ever experienced before. The non-stop orgasms were indescribable, and every drop I produced trickled down my inner thighs. Drenched in sweat, Otis also gave into the ecstasy and collapsed on me, panting. I was in tears from both pleasure and pain. The reminiscence of this session would remain with me forever. As the evening wore on, a resurgent Otis returned with the intention of tending to my wounds, offering a massage around my injured regions.
"Otis, we need to go to the bathroom to clean up. I'm in quite a mess," I stated.
He assisted me to the bath, helped me clean up and dried me out. In return, he took me back to bed. I was physically unable to lie straight due to the thrashed bottom, so he aided me in getting into a more comfortable position. A pillow under my back acted as a support, allowing me to remain on it comfortably. After taking care of himself, he joined me on the bed.
"I'm not done with you yet!" Otis whispered, and my eyes widened with anticipation. Despite his revived state, there was no semen on his member, so I thought he had desired to give me not just pleasure, but a touch ofется BDSM play.
"How was it? The experience?" Otis inquired.
Before I could possibly respond, he excitedly expressed his desires. "Unless you can lie on your back- the thing you could do for me is an intimate massage for my penis and testicles. If you could pull that off, we could try an oral sex session."
"Sounds great. Can you help me roll over and raise my knees so that I don't have to support my wounded regions so much?"
With inch-perfect precision, Otis aided me in repositioning my body, with a towel-covered pillow acting as a support. We engaged in the classic sixty-nine sex position- both pleasing and being pleased in return. The canings had only escalated my arousal. When my mouth touched his genitals, the feeling was divine. Considering my nervous system's chaotic state, the last thing on my mind was biting him.
Soon, with Otis ensconced in a post-orgasmic elation, we found ourselves in a pile of sweat, but he could still claim his position. "Good morning, Miss Josie," he smiled sweetly.
"I need a few hours of sleep. We can go out to eat after."
Otis, who had always preferred to maintain a tidy schedule, checked for a table in the crowd. "There's a table for us!"
We had reserved it for 8 pm, knowing that a well-planned day could yield the ideal relaxation.
On Wednesday, Amy, having worked tirelessly through the day, arrived at the base, appearing visibly weary. Since Otis was still completing his workday at the office, I invited Amy over for dinner.
Elated by the introductory program but feeling the strain, Amy confessed, "This training program is such a roller coaster. I'm trying my best to keep my head above the water, despite the extreme pressures." Desperate for a little quality time with a man, she lamented, "When will I ever find the time for a man, anyway?"
And after three weeks, I had struck gold.
Consider the group of pilots in our squadron. There are two single individuals among them. If I were single, I would consider George Jefferson as a potentialdater. He's been with us for the last 18 months, and on some occasions, he's my wingman during patrols. I'm unsure of his situation, but he could very well be available. Though he seems polite, the ground crew members know that they have to work extra hard when assigned to him!
"Give him a shot. I've been so careful not to let anything negative happen," said one of my friends.
The Air Force encourages romantic relationships among its members, as long as certain rules are followed. I've learnt these rules during my time here. If you want to date George, suggest an activity you both enjoy, like a car race or a soccer game and witness how things progress. At least it's not as straightforward as college days.
"Josie, didn't you pull a muscle?" enquired another friend.
"How did you know?"
"You sat down carefully!"
"It's just between us. I wouldn't want to share this."
I wore slacks that night, lowered them, and bent over the arm of the couch to expose my sore buttocks.
"That's a pretty big muscle pull. Otis must have done it for you."
Amy gasped! I quickly put myself back together, just in case Otis arrived.
"Amy, my mother disciplined me harshly from the age of 16, always spanking me bare-bottom. I think I liked it. That's why I suggested George. He's traditional and might be willing to spank you as a punishment if you're disobedient."
Amy burst out laughing!
In the base club on Sunday evening, Amy and George were seen together. This is a great way to show your relationship status to everyone. Amy summoned me when we were alone.
"I willed a muscle pull in his car in a quiet spot. It hurts a lot!"
"Congratulations. Return to him immediately," I recommended.
Otis saw us in the club, but he didn't speak a word. At home, Otis asked, "I noticed Amy with the young pilot, George Jefferson. Are they friends now?"
"Yes, they are. She approached me for relationship-related advice in the Air Force."
"That's great! You played a part in bringing them two together."
"Yes, I did," I admitted.
"It took two years for us to officially live together as a couple. How long has it been, do you think?"
"Yes, it's been two years still."
"If Amy's training goes well, they might reconsider the waiting period, but it's not supposed to be too fast for newly-minted couples."
A few days later, the colonel pulled me aside.
"I've observed Amy and George seem to be spending a lot of time together. You've probably heard about it, right?"
"Yes, sir, and I helped them move closer together."
He smiled.
"The new policy states that, provided the rank protocol is maintained, and both individuals are well-rated, the Air Force allows couples to share 'partner' accommodation, which is combined bachelor units with internal conversion. The work on converting these units has already started."
"Ireen, you're like a sister. Could you please talk to Amy and let her know?"
"Yes, sir. I'll inform her about the change in policy."
"Amy-Martin must keep this secret from everyone, including George. Morale is crucial in our present situation. So, are you ready?"
"Yes, sir."
I found Amy and updated her about the good news. She was elated!
"Only four and a half months left. No more hotel stays!"
"Amy, can you call me 'Josie' informally?"
"Yes, sure, why not?"
"I felt much better after you pulled that muscle. I'd love to experience it again. It's just I happen to see that my schedule is free for the next 10 days."
"Josie, did you allow any 'unusual procedures' during your last medical checkup?"
"Yes, I did. Can we talk about it here, just the two of us?"
"Yes, of course. What was the most shocking part during the medical?"
The caning session went smoothly, unexpectedly catching me off guard. Thankfully, it wasn't too long ago that my mother disciplined me with a cane when I was nineteen. She reminded me that if I lived under her roof, I was subject to her rules, and my last caning took place then. When I arrived home slightly drunk and disrespectful, she administered 24 strokes, which left my backside quite swollen. Compared to that, receiving six strokes from Janet didn't hurt as much. Surprisingly, after Janet finished caning me, she asked me to cane her. Although I was caught off guard, I agreed to proceed.
Amy and I discussed the practical aspects of this session, and she expressed interest in experiencing it for herself. I mentioned that I still had my caning gear, then shared a secret: Amy was heavier than me, so I would bend the rules slightly and give her more than the recommended dose. For every kilogram she weighed, she would receive one milliliter of Cream of Wheat (CO).
Amy and I decided to implement these "unusual procedures" for the first time, making some changes along the way. I began with the CO, as the bowel movement sensation started. After the CO, it was time for the enema followed by six more cane strokes. As I finished, I gave her six more strokes across the fattest part of her bottom. This led to an incredible sexual experience. Since losing over eight pounds since the trainer program started, some of the weight loss was temporary due to the CO and enema. Nevertheless, her overall well-being had significantly improved. A sore bottom fades quickly, but the effect on her intimate life was nothing short of remarkable!
Amy's reaction was one of astonishment. She marveled at how these procedures felt and wondered if it was possible to perform them at her house.
I suggested that I guide her through the process if she wished. Although she and her partner, George, had been together for only six weeks, she thought it could be a rewarding experience. Recalling our four-year-long relationship with Otis, I assured her that a session like this could improve her performance in the cockpit.
We made plans for the following day. George would arrive at eight am, and I would join her around the same time. The only requirement was for Geoge to administer at least six severe strokes first to break her in.
The next morning, Amy shared an update with me. Janet had handed her the kit, including a CO package and two liters of normal saline. She explained the process and noticed Janet had a hint of suspicion, guessing that she had some help.
At eight am, Amy arrived at my place. She handed me the cane, which I'd never utilized before. When she saw the slimmer model I'd found, she was impressed and commented on its brand newness. She was curious, so I explained that I'd never used it. We discussed that due to its slimmer design, it would be perfect for caning her more delicate areas.
Amy's boyfriend, George, was scheduled to arrive at seven pm. To ensure his comfort, she asked if she could leave before I returned. Once I arrived home around 5:30 pm, she explained that they would need to hurry since she had an important meeting at two pm. She knew they'd need to finish their session before that time, leaving just enough time for her to recover from the canings and any other activities they planned. I would be back by 10:30 pm.
When the day came, Amy's blush revealed her slight embarrassment, hardly a surprise after George's initial anxiety. During their session, they utilized the bathroom for caning and the spare room for recovery. Her morning absence was easily explained by a necessary work-related commitment.
She reassured me that she would return later in the evening, suggesting that they would continue their practice with assistance from a seasoned veteran.
I told Amy to prepare George for a hard hitting first caning, explaining that it would help her get used to the process. That evening, she called to fill me in. She'd gathered the necessary supplies from doctor Janet, who noticed the presence of a familiar name, guessing Josie's assistance. George was visibly uncomfortable, as he struggled to repeat the procedure he'd witnessed. It was clear that it would be a memorable and memorable event for him.
When Amy arrived the next morning, she presented me with the cane and its storage tube. We discussed a new, thinner cane suitable for causing less damage to more delicate areas. She informed me that George was anxious and ready to leave but would return later to recover from the canings and other activities.
An hour later, Amy called me once more. Excitedly, she revealed that Janet had provided her with all the proper gear, including the CO formula. I agreed to supervise the procedure provided that no sexual encounters took place.
"Head to the bathroom and give the bum gun a go. You might appreciate it later. Slip into some shorts or something similar that you can rapidly remove. You'll drop your shorts when you're prepared for the spanking on the naked part, which will precede the corrections officer doing their job!"
I arranged the CO, oranges, and a container of warm water. Amy downed the CO concoction. In shorts and a shirt, she drained the CO potion, made a face, and consumed the orange juice.
"It's alright, I won't toss my cookies."
"Have a look at the chair in the restroom. When you presume you'll need to visit the lavatory in a few minutes, bend over the chair's seat and grip the bar beneath it. Keep your legs straight and your feet roughly two feet apart. Strain your behind as much as possible. I'll give you half a dozen whacks, three on each side, on your lower curves, near the seam."
Amy occupied the chair. I noted the time. In eleven minutes, Amy stood, hauled down her shorts, kicked them off, and bent over the chair.
"I'm good to go; please do it."
I positioned the cane, retracted it, and swiftly delivered the first stroke to her lower right cheek with wrist motion.
"Ouch, oof." Two thanks.
The left lower curve took the second strike.
"Oof, oof." Two thanks again.
I redelivered it until Amy had completed the half dozen strikes, courageously but somewhat noisily, which I didn't mind. She had not attempted to adjust nor fled from the cane. Two sets of red lines stretched across the lower curves of both butt cheeks. The fat portion of her butt remained unmarked. These two groups of cane marks would ignite a substantial sensation when she sat on them, and even greater on them when I installed additional blows after Amy had purged the enema. She sat on the pot, grumbling as her weight, as intended, pressed down on her caning marks.
"Crouch down with your legs apart, and lean forward, taking hold of your knees."
I glanced at her and smiled. It was time to provide her privacy, but I stayed within earshot. In three minutes, I was aware of the inescapable sounds of an explosion from her butt and a few groans.
"Drain and clean up, then drink the warmed water every ten minutes. Let me know if you require a refill."
Approximately two hours later, Amy remarked, "I believe it's concluded. I've had half a dozen BMs."
"Give it fifteen minutes," I recommended. "Better be cautious."
"Fine."
The CO was complete, and Amy cleaned and rinsed her bottom and other areas with the bum gun.
"I'm ready for an enema."
"I've warmed it to 39°C and will fill the bag. Lie down on the camping mat on your left side."
I lubricated the fitting.
"Do you want me to assist with inserting the nozzle, or would you rather do it yourself?"
"Do you have some gloves available?"
"Yes, here's a set of surgical gloves, latex-free type."
Amy donned the gloves and I offered her the lube. She handled it accordingly.
"It would be advisable to insert the nozzle yourself since, if it hurts, you can respond promptly to prevent harm. You could experiment with easing your sphincter first."
"Good notion, ok, I think it's anchored."
"Here's the flow regulator. Unscrew it to activate the flow and watch the ball rotate in the indicator. Perform abdominal massaging counterclockwise, facing forward. It will assist it in passing through you. If cramps emerge, stop the flow, keep massaging, and wait for them to vanish. Strive to accept over one litre, better yet more than that. I accommodated 1.5 last time."
Everything was stable, no leakage.
Amy consumed around one and a half litres, which surprised me!
"I feel like a pregnant pachyderm."
"Do you still desire the half dozen lashes, please?"
"Yes. After what you informed me, I must try it."
"Wait until you sense the initial urge to expel the enema, lean over the chair, and I'll instill half a dozen more stripes on your lower curves."
"OK, understood. Josie, for this session, could you please remain and chat with me as I discharge it? I don't need privacy, as this is a procedure, not a natural necessity."
Amy bent over the chair.
"I'm ready."
I promptly administered the six strokes more gently than previously, but not as forcefully. Amy yowled as each baton impacted and rubbed her stinging derrière following the sixth strike.
Amy sat on the pot, legs apart, torso leaning over, and grasping her knees.
"My butt genuinely stings, yet I feel so horny."
I heard the noises of the first expulsion.
"Aaaah, that's better."
"My mom whipped me bare-bottomed. I can't believe that the girl who was spanked is now flying fast jets and still desires a sore bottom. Let's hope George understands when he sees the bruises. They should be more convincing than any amount of talking. When I had been spanked during the medical check-up, afterward it was an intense arousal, but I could only pleasure myself. You had Otis. I'm praying George will look after me tonight."
More sounds of releasing gas.
"Being spanked gets me incredibly horny. I'll try the enema contraption again after this is done."
"Circle your stomach in the opposite direction this time. It will hasten the process. Whenever I get an enema, passing gas is horrendous. You're fortunate since you don't appear to suffer from that!"
Time was approaching, and I had to put on my uniform and make my way to the meeting.
At 10:15, I returned. They had both left, and the place was clean and tidy. Amy had left a note, saying, "I've been naughty and have taken the thin cane with me!"
I was glad, knowing that it would be utilized, or George would if he had any sense.
I saw Amy the following day as we walked back from the PX. "Thank goodness I'm not getting caned on a sore bottom!"
"What occurred?"
"He gave me six strokes on the thick part, then went down on me, and fingered my G-spot, and I became so turned on, I asked for another six using the thicker cane. It was excruciating yet it produced an orgasm. My orgasm during the caning gave him a major shock. He made love to me post-last stroke and it was indescribable."
"Exactly! It's worth it, isn't it?"
"Many thanks, Josie."
"Keep it a secret from everyone."
Chatting with Amy was arousing for me. Otis was going to have a great time that evening!
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