Ema Enema: A Short Story

Friday, June 13th, 2008

Here’s a silly story I wrote a long time ago with some very adult themes. It has a bit of a fairy tale edge to it, so it reads pleasantly. Let me know if you like it, many people will be weirded out by it.

Ema hated her name. Her name reminded her of the word enema way to much. She hated enemas and was sick of hearing about how great they were from all the kids at school. Enema fetishes were the lowest of the low in her opinion.

See, Ema loved bondage. All day and all night she dreamed of having a ball gag in her mouth and being suspended mid air with ropes or leather. Some times just thinking about it got her off, unfortunately this usually happened in gym class, but it was still good.

The problem with Emryville was that if she got tied up by a boy from the town, he’d try to give her an enema. If she tried to be the dominant one and put others in bondage, they would only complain then and at school latter on that she refused to give them an enema.

She could no longer stand Emryville. She had to leave soon, her bondage dreams and enema realities were consuming her every move, her every thought. One day, she bumped into a cute little scotish boy from across the river. “Jesis byrd, it’s a damn shame thit you Emryvillians are aw obsessed wi enemas. If ya wir intea bondage, ya could git a bit ay a fortune as a suspension model.” Ema’s eyes flashed a brightness no one in Emryville had seen before.

“Really?” She asked, while dreaming about the gravitational pull on her unmoveable limbs.

“Yeh,” As he could tell she was interested, his eyes began to twinkle and he added, “‘N Ah’d ask ye to be ma byrd. Ah’d even call ya Betty, since I’m sure you have some Enema sounding name. Aw you Emryvillians are the same, ye ken?”

Ema nearly fainted, but was caught by a newly emerging woman named Betty. Betty was self confident, Betty was beautiful, Betty could be rich, but Betty could never fully exist on the Emryville side of the river.

So poor Ema got the boys name, Tommy, and his phone number, and bid farewell to him. It was the last time Ema would ever see Tommy. She had bigger things on her mind, namely, how to get across the river and give Betty life. How could she just get up and leave the town?

Suddenly a genuis idea came to her that was so simple, she banged her head to the desk a few times just to imagine a level of complexity in the plan. She would fake her own suicide, throw herself in the river, swim to her favorite underwater cave, grab her scuba gear that was hiding in the cave, scubba across the river to Tommy’s town, live with him for a few years until she turned 18, then she would move to Chicago to make it big in the down and dirty bondage model scene. She would be bigger than Dita Von Teese, twice as beautiful and four times as kinky, not to mention Betty wouldn’t need implants and everyone loved redheads. It was like clockwork, and the idea of the final reward took her breath away so long when she thought about it, that her parents began to worry that she developed asthma. Ema knew better though.

It was so simple that everything clicked into place like there wasn’t even interlocking peices to the puzzle. Soon enough, Tommy was marrying a young up comming bondage queen with firey red pubic hair and penetrating green eyes. A short while after that, she was the leading porn star in the country. Little boys hung pictures of her tied in positions that even the pope would be impressed by.

The fame and fortune soon proved to be not enough for Betty, and she began to fade away, leaving poor lost Ema to take her place. Ema too was no longer impressed with the adoring fans, the cars, the mansion or the white tigers, she wanted more from life. More than the rich life could offer.

She decided the only option was do some serious soul searching. She also realized that soul searching required finding the roots, she had to go home. She saw her family and her few old friends. She let them tie her up for novelty purposes, but forgot the ever hated enema that acompanied any sexual activity in her small, rual town. She sat back and took it though since she had no option, but her suprise, this time she enjoyed it. “Oh god Bobby-Anne, do that again. Please!!!” She begged, and Bobby-Anne wanting to keep her friend happy, gladly fufilled the request. Suddenly, Ema was compelety Ema again. She loved her name, she loved her family, her friends and her hometown. She loved Enemas. From then on, she never went a day with out an enema. When her husband said no to her request, she soon divorced him and chose a life of freedom, independance and enemas to her previous controlling, dependant, bondage relationship.

Ema had to learn that independance is far better than a life of bondage. I hope you have all learned the same. The end.

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