0 comments/ 163608 views/ 40 favorites Rectal Retrieval By: Scatella2008 The online help wanted ad provoked my interest the moment I saw it: "Special assistant needed for colonic irrigation clinic serving an exclusively female clientele." I knew what that meant. It meant enemas; one of my great fetishes. And the 'women only' detail was essential for me since I'm a lesbian and find any kind of intimacy, clinical or otherwise, with men distasteful. My love for enemas, giving and receiving them, began five years ago, when I was 25, and traveled to Amsterdam where I met a rather depraved lesbian who taught me the pleasures of the nozzle. When I returned home I found others, like me, who enjoyed enemas. And then one day this led further, led to where a love of enemas often leads, a sexual attraction to what some euphemistically call 'brown showers,' but which in simple language is shit sex. Yes, I'll say it. I love the female shithole, I love putting things in it, and I love seeing stuff come out of it! I was looking for a job, and this sounded right 'up my alley,' as I said to myself, smiling. Madame Dupont turned out to be a very attractive woman of forty, originally from Paris, and had established her clinic is Los Angeles six months earlier. We talked frankly and she was both delighted to learn that my interest in enemas was not simply clinical and professional. She told me what I was not surprised to learn, which was that many of the women who came to her clinic seeking colonic relief, were anal and rectal fetishists, with a deep love of enemas, and many of them with a love of shit play as well. She couldn't have been happier that I understood this immediately; most job applicants hadn't, she said. And so I was employed and soon became her assistant of choice for special and unusual clients. Then, this afternoon, such a client came into the clinic, actually three clients. They were Monica, a woman of thirty, maybe a few years older, her much younger sister, Kelly, a sophomore in college, and Kelly's best friend, Felicity. Monica was a chic, stylishly dressed woman, and her sister was an absolute dreamboat, a sleek, luscious nineteen year old on the cusp on womanhood, but not quite there. And the friend, Felicity was every bit as alluring, a gorgeous wisp of thing, the same nineteen as her best friend, Kelly, but somehow rather more girlish in manner. It was Felicity who had the problem. As Monica explained to Madame Dupont rather haltingly and with a certain measure of embarrassment, it seemed her sister and her sister's girlfriend played a rather naughty and girlish game. They would try to hold in their shit for as long as possible to see who could 'win,' who could hold it in the longest! Sometimes they held it in so long they'd have to give each other enemas in order to be able to get it all out. But this time, apparently, Felicity had gone too far. She had held it in so long that her bowels had become completely impacted. Even an attempt with an enema failed, the enema nozzle immediately becoming clogged with fecal matter. And now they were all here, Felicity in dire need of expert clinical help. Madame Dupont had been teaching me special techniques of fecal extraction, enemas, and other even more intrusive techniques. And she knew immediately when a client was a fetishist and when she was here strictly for colonic cleansing. Monica and the two teens with her were obviously fetishists and so we prepared for them as we do for such clients. So as we begin this session, Madame Dupont has Monica and her sister Kelly seated as I stand there in my assistant's outfit, which is nothing more than a little white apron over my naked body, my breasts and bottom exposed. She tells Felicity to completely undress. Felicity blushes, but does what she is told. Madame Dupont runs her hand probingly over the contours of Felicity's normally athletically flat, but now rounded tummy, noting that this rounding is probably due to the excessive bloating of her bowels with accumulated fecal wastes, "... with shit, dear, to be more blunt," she says to Felicity, who blushes deeply upon hearing the word. This condition, she assures Felicity, will be corrected. I am asked to help position Felicity on an examining table, her legs spread, flexed, and ankles resting on stirrups, exposing vividly her genital and anal regions. Felicity blushes deeply, rather embarrassed to be exposed so "medically" in front of others, including her best friend and her best friend's sister, as well as two strangers. Madame Dupont asks me to proceed with an initial digital inspection of Felicity's anal passage and lower rectum, and to report back on the state of perceived fecal impaction. At the clinic, the staff can decide whether to don or not don a rubber glove for rectal procedures, examinations and fecal extractions. I have chosen to "go in" bare-handed since I find this gives me a better sense of contours and textures. And because I also love it that way! So I apply a generous dab of lubricant to Felicity's anus as she blushes again, seeing how everyone's eyes are upon her. I insert a finger into her anus and as soon as that finger makes its way up her anal passage to the start of her rectal cavity, I feel a wall. I know this wall is the very large mass of compacted shit filling her bowels. "Is young Felicity as full of shit as I suspect she is?" Madame Dupont asks mischievously and this, of course, elicits another blush of excruciating embarrassment from Felicity. "Rather full," I say. "What do you suggest, Carole?" she asks. "I would begin by administering a 1 liter olive oil enema to help loosen the impacted fecal mass from her rectal walls. And then we can proceed with mechanical and manual removal, followed by a final cleansing enema to get out any debris remaining behind." "Very good, I approve of this approach, Carole. Please proceed." I remove my finger from Felicity's anus and on the fingertip is a very vivid brown dab of Felicity's shit, which I show everyone. Monica, especially gazes at my finger, marveling at the sight. Felicity herself only groans in humiliation as her brown wastes are exposed to others. The poor thing hardly realizes this is merely the start of much more extravagant procedures. I wipe the dab of shit on my white apron, streaking it brown. The aprons are used only once, and Madame Dupont encourages the use of aprons for wiping soiled fingers and hands, knowing that with all the shit and enemas those aprons inevitably become profoundly soiled. I get a rubber enema bag, and attach a big black nozzle with a large hole at its tip, a hole that will not clog immediately with fecal debris. I fill it with exactly 1 liter of already warmed olive oil and hang it from the hook of a stainless steel stand I roll to the side of the examining table. Felicity's anus has already been well lubricated, so now I insert the nozzle as Felicity squirms somewhat at its intrusion. "Perhaps for her own good we should bind the patient's wrists since the procedures to follow may be quite extreme," Madame Dupont suggests, and so I now attach cuffs to Felicity's wrists, stretch out her arms, and attach the cuffs to rings in the wall above the examining table. I also secure a second set of cuffs binding her ankles to the stirrups. I then release the clamp on the enema hose and the enema begins to flow into Felicity's bowels. She winces as she feels the oil injected into her already overfilled and overburdened rectum. We all watch in pleased silence as the contents of the bag empty into Felicity's bowels. "Oh my god! I feel so full!" she stutters, biting her lip, blushing. "Soon she'll be feeling much better, dear," Madame Dupont assures her. After the enema empties we allow it to remain inside Felicity so it can do its work, softening the tightly packed shit inside her, making it more easily detachable from her rectal walls. "Oh no, I'm sorry!" Felicity blurts out, blushing, "but the pressure is so intense inside that I just feel I must urinate." Madame Dupont smiles reassuringly. "Don't worry, dear. We provide deluxe services here. If you feel the need to urinate at any point, go right ahead. Carole? Will you show Felicity where she can urinate." I smile, well aware of our 'special' services as I now lower my face between Felicity's legs and open my lips right over Felicity's pretty pink and glossy young vulva. "Go right ahead, Felicity," Madame Dupont urges as Felicity lets go, shooting a powerful stream of warm salty urine into my open mouth as I swallow every drop of the briny excretion. As the olive oil enema continues to gush into her while she urinates, she feels a sharp spasm, a cramp, from the ever increasing pressure in her bowels. And this causes Felicity to squirm, making her urinary stream direct away from my open mouth momentarily, splashing the hot urine all over my face, my hair, my breasts, and over my apron, leaving wet yellow streaks which now mix with the brown residue deposited from the earlier wiping. I note how keenly Monica gazes at me as her sister's pretty friend groans with cramps, peeing uncontrollably as I continue to administer the olive oil enema. Finally Felicity's urination fades to a trickle as I take a last swallow of her golden nectar and note that the enema bag is finally empty, Felicity having taken the full contents. We're all aware how spectacularly bloated and under what extreme pressure her bowels must be, now filled not only with accumulated fecal wastes, but with the litre of olive oil as well. The oil however will have the beneficial effect of loosening and, ultimately helping me to extract the impacted shit clogging her rectum. "I suggest she use the de-impactor first," Madame Dupont suggests. Madame Dupont has invented a device intended to help remove a large, massive bolus of fecal matter, of compressed shit, which stubbornly fills the bowels and, like sticky clay, adheres to the rectal walls, making it very difficult or even impossible for the impacted subject to evacuate. Young Felicity -- this poor, pretty teen girl is one such unfortunate subject. The device is shaped like a sort of spatula with a flexible rubber handle and a nearly flat, flexible rubber spoon-like scraper. I now add more lubricant to Felicity's anus and cover the device with lubricant as well. And then I carefully insert it into Felicity's anus and up into her rectum, the poor dear wincing and biting her tongue, squirming as cramps overwhelm her, wondering how the procedure of extraction will unfold. The olive oil has helped lubricate her bowels and the compacted mass of shit filling her rectum, and what happens now is that I wedge the "spatula" between her rectal walls and the mass, helping detach it from those walls so it can be more easily broken up and removed. It is a slow and careful process, requiring delicacy, since not only must the large and dense clump of shit be loosened from the sides of her rectum, but I must get it in deep and carefully maneuver around the mass to detach it from the upper part of her rectum. This takes some doing as Felicity endures the invasive intrusion, tugging at her bonds with a strong measure of discomfort and certainly with embarrassment, as she continues blushing. But also, as we can all tell from what the odd but charming expression on her face reveals, a certain measure of arousal as well. "I believe the shit crammed inside this cutie pie has been sufficiently loosened, Madame Dupont," I say with a chuckle, Felicity looking right at me and blushing again. "Very good," she replies with rather a smirk, "now she can finally get to the business of removing all that shit from the poor girl's bowels." Every time Felicity hears the word 'shit' referring to what fills her, she blushes an even deeper shade of pink, something the savvy Madame Dupont can see and teasingly exploit. I now remove the enema nozzle from inside Felicity's ass and, to no one's surprise, much of the nozzle is caked brown with Felicity's shit. I lift the bottom of my apron, exposing my pussy for a moment -- everyone of course looking down to have a peek at my unshaved cunt -- and wipe off the shitty nozzle with the bottom of the apron, adding to its soiled state. "Time to proceed with the manual removal," Madame Dupont says as I now move to the next stage. I reach for a large jar of lubricant and insert my full hand into the thick white grease, slapping a big dab between Felicity's cheeks, then dipping my hand in again to cover it with even more lubricant. Now, very slowly, I insert my hand into Felicity's rectum. Of course this dramatic and necessarily forceful intrusion is not easy to endure and again reminds us all why it was necessary to bind Felicity's wrists and ankles so that she did not recoil from the procedure. Now, with my hand deep inside her rectum, I can feel that the large mass of fecal matter -- "your shit, baby," as I teasingly tell her as I probe -- has been more or less detached from her rectal walls. The mass is dense and clay-like but now also oily and somewhat softened from the warm olive oil enema. And so I proceed with the first step of removal, scooping up a handful of her wastes and carefully extruding it, pulling my hand, filled with her shit, from her rectum. Kelly and her sister watch closely, with great intrigue. I slap the big mound of shit down on a stainless steel tray as Kelly looks down at the dense brown mass with mesmerized eyes, Madame Dupont, of course noticing. The delighted and aroused expression on Kelly's face is so vivid that her sister needs to explain to Madame Dupont. "My little sister seems inordinately attracted to fecal wastes," she tells her. "Well maybe she gets that love of shit from her you," Madame Dupont perceptively and bluntly notes as Monica blushes with excruciating embarrassment, knowing full well that Madame Dupont has gotten it exactly right. "Yep. Me and Felicity sometimes like to play a game we call 'who poops first' " Kelly explains to Madame Dupont. And then tells her that the game consists of her and Felicity sometimes taking a laxative or just waiting until they both have intense needs to shit and then competing to see who can hold her shit longer until the loser finally is forced to evacuate her wastes into her panties, the other then inevitably following. "Well dear, we have no need for Felicity's shit here. Our job is simply to help remove it from Felicity's impacted bowels. So she are free to have it," Madame Dupont says. "Goody!" Kelly coos in a girlish, sing-song voice. "My little sister can be a very dirty and lewd little girl, Madame Dupont," Monica explains. "I like lewd and dirty girls, and so does Carole," Madame Dupont smirks and then looks right at Kelly, "please help herself, dear." To her sister's immense shock and everyone else's amazement, Kelly now tears off her clothes, exposing her youthful, athletic body with no shame whatsoever. She reaches over and digs into the mound of Felicity's warm shit and happily starts smearing it over her tender firm breasts. We all watch the spectacle with awe, Monica betraying immense shock at this outrageous behavior of her sister's, as well a subdued but very real arousal. The act and the image are so stunning that everyone almost loses sight of me wiping my completely shit-covered hand on my apron, adding to its soiled quality, the apron now almost as brown as it is white. "Look, sis," Kelly says as she watches me wipe the shit off on my apron as she, at the same time, spreads it over her breasts,"me and Carole both love shit, see! We love to make ourselves dirty. Almost as much as she do, sis." The teasing, naughty smile on her face is priceless Madame Dupont gazes right into Monica's eyes and smiles knowingly, wryly Monica, once again, blushes with the deepest embarrassment, almost as aroused as she is ashamed at this exposure of her deepest longings and lusts. "Maybe young Kelly would like to assist you with the remainder of the fecal extraction?" Madame Dupont suggests to me with a sly smile. "Would you, Kelly?" I ask, turning to her, "would she like to help me remove the rest of the shit from Felicity's bowels? Kelly's bright eyes sparkle with sheer delight as her sister's jaw drops in awed astonishment at this suggestion of Madame Dupont's. Kelly's hands and breasts are covered with Felicity's shit; my own hand, to the wrist, is caked with that same shit and my apron utterly soiled with both Felicity's shit and her urine. How far will this go, I can see Monica wondering, bedazzled by it all. "I'd love to!" Kelly cries out with youthful glee, then turns to her sister. "I'm going to get to help, sis! I'm going to help clean out Felicity's rectum. My sister is always talking about how important it is to attend to one's rectum and its contents. God knows, you've helped me enough to attend to mine, sis. Now I get to help Felicity." Monica blushes, embarrassed by such intimate, utterly unabashed disclosures by her sister as we all gaze at Monica with knowing smiles, even Felicity, the strapped-down "patient." "Is that true, Monica?" Madame Dupont asks with a wry smile and with a creamy voice edged with teasing mockery, "are you inordinately concerned with rectal care and rectal contents?" All eyes focused on Monica, the attention of everyone is turned her way. She blushes with renewed embarrassment, feeling humiliated by this public disclosure of what she feels are very private and intimate concerns involving her and her sister. "Oh yes!" Kelly cries out gleefully, her youthful voice a sing-song, "Monica just loves shit and she loves playing with hers and with mine. She's always poking her fingers deep inside my poophole to see what I've got up there. And she got me to do the same to hers. Isn't that right, sis?" "And you love every minute of it, dear," Monica feel she needs to remind her sister. "Yes I do," she admits, "and now I'm going to get to do even more. I'm going to get to do what Carole just did, stick my whole hand up Felicity's bowels and help pull out her shit. You've given me plenty of enemas and laxatives, sis, but you've never done what I've just seen Carole do to help Felicity." "Maybe after today, I will," Monica says, releasing some of her embarrassment, as everyone laughs. "Okay, Kelly, dig in please," I say, gesturing in the direction of Felicity's now very vividly messy shithole, gapingly open from my first probing and extraction. Kelly steps up, eyes sparkling, big smile on her face, and looks down at her girlfriend with a mix of tenderness and mischief, even a slight trace of what could be sadism. "Like this?" Kelly says with a girlishly wicked smile as she slides all five of her fingers into the brown, smudged opening, her hand following. With the heavy lubrication and the earlier olive oil enema, Felicity is well prepared, even for something as invasive as a whole hand digging deep into her bowels. Everyone watches closely as Kelly digs in, Felicity's brown, soiled sphincter now clenching Kelly's wrist, Felicity squirming and tugging at her bonds with the renewed intrusion. "I think you may have gotten it all," Kelly says, looking over to me, her wrist visibly twisting inside the open sphincter, her hand no doubt probing inside, 'excavating' for more shit. "I believe you need to go further inside," I tell Kelly, grabbing hold of her forearm and urging her to work her hand in deeper, knowing that though I scooped up and extracted a nice handful from Felicity's lower rectum, there is sure to be much more deeper in her bowels. And so Kelly forces her hand in deeper, past her wrist, her face suddenly lighting up with glee as though she's made some wonderful discovery. Rectal Retrieval "Oh yes, I can feel it," she says excitedly, looking at her girlfriend, "you've got more inside you, Felicity, plenty more!" "You mean more shit?" I tease. "Yes, more shit, a lot more shit," Kelly says, working deep inside Felicitys's bowels, looking down at Felicity who now winces and bites her lower lip as she feels the extreme intrusion. "A lot more shit, Felicity. You're really full of shit today!" Young Kelly cackles wickedly, as teen girls do, embarrassing Felicity terribly, the pretty, shy teen's face now turning a deep red. Monica gazes, awestruck, at the obscene spectacle. There am I, naked but for my little apron, now begrimed with urine and shit. And there Kelly, stark naked, shit smeared all over her tender young breasts, her hand buried deep inside Felicity's rectal depths, Felicity stretched there immobilized, ankles in stirrups, strapped in place as even more shit is about to be removed from her bowels. And there is Madame Dupont calmly and knowingly watching it all, the Mistress of this domain. By now the room smells strongly of Felicity's urine and feces. Or for those like me, who love such scents, and who find the charming, immobilized and very naked and dirty teen alluring and attractive, it is fragrant with the intoxicating aroma of her piss and shit. The allure of this aroma I am sure is shared by Monica and her sister, and by Madame Dupont. And, I sense, by Felicity herself, so familiar with these intimate, personal aromas now so strongly permeating the room. Kelly, I learn later, has told her sister how Felicity once confessed to her that the first stirrings of her fecal obsession arose when, after wiping herself, she felt an irresistible urge to lift a wad of soiled and streaked toilet paper up to her nose to sniff, somehow entranced by the smell of her own shit. Now we are all here priveleged to enjoy that same pungent scent, always different, different with each shit, but always Felicity's, her "mark," her deepest and most intimate scent. She knows the room reeks with the smell of her shit. This humiliates her deeply and, yet, she finds it strangely arousing. Kelly has an intent and focused look on her face as her hand probes deep in Felicity's bowels, Felicity breathing hard, writhing as she endures the continuing intrusion. "How are she doing up in there?" I ask her. "Mmmmmmh, I'm getting a lot of it out I think, the olive oil really helped," she says as she scrapes away the broken up and now oily mass of shit from Felicity's rectal walls, no doubt doing what I just had been doing, shoveling it up with her hand, scooping it, collecting a big handful to extrude from Felicity's bowels. We all watch as Kelly works deep inside her girlfriend's rectum, concentrating on the task at hand. "We may want to offer young Kelly a position here. Might we not, Carole?" Madame Dupont says with a knowing smile, "she seems to have a knack for what's required." Kelly beams hearing this, twisting her hand around inside Felicity's body, working deliberately. Then, slowly, she begins to pull her hand out. Of course, all of us are curious to see what she retrieves. When Kelly's hand finally pops out of Felicity's rectum, even Kelly is stunned to see what it contains. What she holds in that hand is an immense clump of shit, looking like a big brown snowball, even larger than the fecal mass I extruded from Felicity's bottom. Felicity once more blushes as the impacted contents of her rectum are once again displayed for everyone to see. Kelly lifts her hand, showing off to everyone what she has excavated from her girlfriend's bowels, beaming happily as though she had just unearthed treasure. The tray is in sight and I expect Kelly to deposit the big handful there. But she hesitates and smiles rather wickedly and mysteriously now, her eyes glistening with mischievous lust, as though she has a surprise for all of us. Then suddenly she lowers the shit-laden hand and smacks it between her own legs, right into her pussy. We are all rather stunned, even Madame Dupont, who has seen everything and is not one easily astounded. "Oh my god, Kelly!" her sister cries out, her eyes wide with shock "whatever are she doing!" "I got the idea from you, sis," Kelly replies, turning to her sister as she packs the shit into her pussy. "Remember that time last month where you begged me to scoop up some of my shit and press it into your cunt? I'm sure you haven't forgotten how excited you became, playing with your clit and cumming as I rubbed my shit all over your vulva, sis." Monica blushes with excruciating embarrassment as her utterly uninhibited sister blurts out these shocking indiscretions. We gather more closely and look down to see that Kelly has not merely smacked that big handful of Felicity's shit against her pussy but is now busily packing it into her vagina, working it in with her fingers. "See Felicity?" Kelly says, turning to her friend, as her rectum is emptied, smiling lewdly, wickedly, "my vagina is all filled with your fucking shit!" Felicity charmingly smiles, then blushes. "Even I could never imagine that it would come to this, Kelly," Monica says to her sister, "that your fascination with shit would go this far." "A fascination you always encouraged, sis, don't forget?" Kelly playfully chides, "without Monica's guidance I may never have been led to this, nor Felicity who followed in the footsteps she laid out so splendidly -- sister dear." Monica smiles weakly and blushes terribly as her depraved sisterly obsessions are again pointedly brought to everyone's attention. "All of us here understand, Monica," Madame Dupont says reassuringly, "that's why I established this facility; that's why we are all gathered here. Fecal extraction, as we all know -- myself, Carole, she and her sister, Felicity -- can be more than a necessary medical procedure, much more." "I think there's at least another big handful inside there," I say, pointing between Felicity's legs, at her greasy brown and now rather gaping anus, the gateway to her shit-filled bowels, the exit for Kelly's last two successful efforts at manual fecal extraction. Kelly smiles delightedly as, with a sleek determined move, she again slips her hand deep into Felicity's rectum, Felicity wincing once more at this extreme intrusion, this forceful violation of her inner body's sanctum, her very guts. But this is the third time for Felicity, so the wincing is not as extreme, and the outrageous intrusion by now expected. We all watch as Kelly, clinical and determined, and yet with a clear sexual lust, a passion for what she is doing, does her work deep inside Felicity's bowels, scraping and scooping for many minutes as the restrained teen writhes and winces and blushes. Monica looks on in continued amazement and fascination at her sister's pivotal part in all this, Kelly naked now, her sleek youthful body smeared with her best girlfriend's shit, more of that shit caked against Kelly's pussy and packed into that pussy, with her hand now deep in her girlfriend's rectum, searching for yet more 'brown treasure.' And then, slowly, she pulls out her hand and holds it up once again, her face aglow, the hand containing yet another large mound of Felicity's pungent shit. She displays it, her prize, turning to us all, then approaching her Sister and holding the handful right under her nose. "Here, smell it, sis," Kelly says wickedly, " I know much you crave the powerful aroma of the shit of sexy teenage girls." Monica blushes as, once again, we are all reminded of her depraved lusts. "Now what should I do with this?" Kelly says, holding up the handful again for our viewing pleasure, all of us well aware of what happened to the last handful, how Kelly so outrageously smacked it between her legs and into her cunt. "I have an idea," I say, licking my lips, smiling at Kelly as I approach her. Then I grab hold of her wrist, and bring the hand and the big fetid mound of shit it holds up into my cunt, "Pack it in here." Pure delight in her eyes, Kelly works the handful of shit between my legs as, minutes ago, she did between her own. "Mmmmmmh, that feels good," I purr, looking Kelly right into the eye, loving the feel of having a handful of the freshest shit imaginable, hot and only moments ago extracted from deep inside Felicity's bowels, mashed against my pussy. I think back to that first time, back in Amsterdam, when that beautiful Dutch lesbian had me shit in her hand and then, with the most tender of smiles on her face, lovingly smeared my shit all over her cunt, and then my own. I was shocked but seduced by the depraved act then. Now, here, I welcome it again as I hold Kelly's hand in place by the wrist and feel her not simply slapping the brown fecal fudge against my vulva, but stuffing it into my vagina. "Now we're shit sisters," Kelly says to me, her face sparkling with joy. "Yes, shit sisters, hot cunts filled with hot shit," I say. "Felicity's shit," Kelly whispers. "Yes, Felicity's," I reply, both Kelly and I looking at Felicity who smiles weakly, her wastes now at the center of our lewd games, but still so very embarrassed to be so vividly exposed as this. Yes, this is a medical procedure for her own good, but she somehow cannot help feeling degraded, restrained and exposed, her rectum freely invaded to remove its huge mass of impacted shit. "Now you can see why I hired Carole, Monica," Madame Dupont says, glancing at Monica, "to work here one must have a real love for excrement, for fecal wastes, for shit, pure and simple. And Carole, as you can clearly see, certainly does have that special love. Isn't that right, Carole?" "That is correct. If it's brown and comes from my, or another woman's rectum, I do enjoy it very much." "Yes, I can see that," Monica says, gazing directly at me and at my shit-streaked, strikingly soiled apron, and at her sister as she continues to work it around and into my cunt. Finally she pulls her hand away, the hand glazed with shit. "Wipe it off here," I say, pointing to my breasts as Kelly gladly wipes her shitty hand over my bare breasts, both of us giggling like schoolgirls, our breasts smeared with shit, more shit all over our pussies and inside our cunts. I reach between my legs with a finger and scoop up a little clump, carefully applying it to my lips. Then I pull Kelly to me, our hot, defiled bodies meeting as I press my lips to hers and kiss her with deep passion, sharing the aroma, the taste of Felicity's shit, reaching down between each other's legs to fondle shitty cunts as we kiss shitty kisses with deep sensual lust. Felicity and Monica and Madame Dupont watch us, watch this display of our frisky fecal lust. "Okay girls, enough of that," Madame Dupont finally says, "you've accomplished a great deal. But young Felicity still needs to be given an enema for the final flushing and cleansing of her bowels. Carole? Prepare the enema. And since she and Kelly are such intimate friends, and have given enemas to each other, you two can administer it together. Then Madame Dupont turns Monica. "And don't think, Monica, that you are being neglected. There will be a role for you in all of this very soon, a very big role" I now fill a translucent rubber enema bag with 3 litres of very warm water to which I have added some liquid soap, and hang the full bloated bag after Madame Dupont removes the old bag, which contained the olive oil enema. I attach an inflatable nozzle to the end of the hose. "I doubt Felicity's anus will need much lubrication after what she's just been through," Madame Dupont observes as we all chuckle. "Care to do the honors?" I say, handing Kelly the nozzle, "I gather you're quite adept at administering enemas." "Oh yes," Kelly says gleefully, her eager voice almost girl-like now, "I give my sister enemas all the time. She taught me. She's been giving them to me for years. Always pretending I was constipated and in need of one, just so she could have an excuse to pull down my panties, turn me over, and stick her fingers, then the nozzle up my shithole. Isn't that right, sis? Haven't you been giving me enemas forever? And right from the start insisting that I expel them in front of you. And making sure to wipe me clean afterwards rather than having me wipe myself. Then begging me to give them to you? Really big ones?" Monica's smile is as weak as her embarrassed blush is deep. "Is that right, Monica?" I ask teasingly. "Uh—yes," she stutters, "I've—I've long had a certain passion for enemas." " '….a certain passion for enemas' " Kelly says, mimicking her sister's tone in a teasing, mocking voice. "Well now you can watch your sister give Felicity a big enema," I say. Kelly slides the nozzle into Felicity's greasy anus and unclamps the hose. From the sigh we can all tell that Felicity has just felt the first of the enema gushing into her bowels. We all gaze down at her as, slowly, the bag empties its contents into her rectum. Kelly winces and squirms as it begins to really fill her, no doubt starting to feel those telltale cramps. Her normally trim tummy also seems to become more rounded as the enema is injected into her through the nozzle and bloats her bowels. After the bag is empty, I inflate the nozzle so there is no premature accidental or intentional discharge. The enema must be allowed to do its work, to marinate inside Felicity's rectum as it loosens whatever shit remains inside her so it can be evacuated. "We normally allow the enema to remain inside for a full ten minutes," Madame Dupont explains. "Gee, that's along time," an excited and impatient Kelly says, "what're we gonna do for those ten minutes?" "Is there anything you'd especially enjoy doing, dear?" Madame Dupont asks. Kelly thinks a moment, then her eyes brighten as she deftly scampers up on the examining table, over Kelly, straddling her face. "Felicity can lick my dirty pussy," Kelly says, "she loves the taste of shit, even her own, I've seen her taste it many times." We can see Felicity's blushing face between Kelly's legs as Kelly then lowers her shitty pussy and we lose view of that face. But we can hear the sound of Felicity's kittenish tongue as it now eagerly laps away at her girlfriend's pungent, shitty cunt. Of course to the shit lovers gathered here, 'pungent' could be a synonym for 'perfumed.' "You're just incorrigible, Kelly!" her sister chides playfully, "and to think that I'm to blame!" There's a certain look of contentment in her eyes as she gaze at me and Madame Dupont. "Yes, sis, you're to blame," Kelly hisses as she forcefully grinds her shitty pussy against her restrained girlfriend's face. "You taught me to love shit, and now I love it. And I taught Felicity to love it, and now she loves it too." "We're all shit lovers here," Madame Dupont says reassuringly, "isn't that right, Carole?" "Yes it is, Madame Dupont. "We're a just a pack of fecal fanatics." "I like that, 'fecal fanatics,'" Madame Dupont chuckles. I reach down under my filthy, stained apron to unabashedly finger myself as Felicity licks Kelly's pussy. I look over at Monica and see her hand has drifted down between the legs of the fashionable vanilla-colored cashmere slacks she's wearing. They go so nicely with the silk, lavender top. Even Madame Dupont, normally restrained, reaches under her outfit to tend to her inflamed vulva. "Hey?" Kelly says, craning her neck to look at us, "who wants to watch me piss and shit as Felicity makes me cum." "I know I do," I say, "and I'm sure your sister would enjoy the sight." "So true, I love to watch my baby sister shit," Monica says. We all watch and wait as Kelly begins to sigh and breathe deeply. "Oh God, n—n—nowwww!" she gasps as Felicity's silky, eager tongue flickering over Kelly's clitoris does the trick, and the orgasmic spasms begin to overwhelm her. And at that moment Kelly's bladder and sphincter both relax as urine hisses out of her and splashes all over Felicity, and then a huge log of shit, quickly followed by another, and then another, explode out of her rectum and fall on Felicity's breasts as Kelly shudders in the orgasmic afterglow. A new and astounding sight now compels our gaze, a big mound of shit sitting on top of Felicity's youthful breasts. "She loves to do that, Kelly does," Monica explains to us, "shitting just as she cums." "You did it first, sis, remember?" she say, "when I licked you that time and you came and lost control, urinating and defecating everywhere as I licked your soggy cunt. You made me so dirty that time. Peeing and shitting all over my titties as I licked you and made you feel so good." Again Monica blushes. As, again, Kelly shares another milestone in her depraved history of these two very intimate sisters with all of us. "You seem very familiar with your sister's wastes, Monica," I say, turning to her, "maybe you'd like to step up and give Felicity a nice body massage with them." Monica is stunned by the suggestion since, up to this point, she has been merely a witness to these extreme and outrageous proceedings. But, with a smile, she is glad to oblige. As her sister now lifts herself up off Kelly, and gets off the examining table, Monica reaches down with shaking hands and presses down on the brown mound to mash Kelly's shit, moistened with her urine, against Felicity's breasts. Then reaching down further she keeps smearing it all over her rounded tummy. Felicity groans and winces as Monica spreads the shit over the taut skin of her bloated, painful, enema-filled tummy. "I think the enema has had time to do its work," Madame Dupont says, "expulsion maybe in order now." Monica steps away, lifting up her hands, the palms coated with a layer of her sister's filthy wastes. "Where can I clean my hands?" she ask. "I suggest you clean them on her clothes," Madame Dupont says with a pointed, wicked smile. "But I just bought these cashmere slacks and this silk top; I'm wearing them today for the first time," she protests. "Well I think they need to be soiled, Momica," Madame Dupont says smoothly, then, suddenly, barks ferociously, "so clean those fucking filthy hands of yours on your fucking cashmere and silk, you shit-loving bitch! A shit lover like you should be wearing stinking, filthy shit-soiled rags rather than couture" Monica's eyes go wide and her jaw goes slack as she blushes deeply, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Her sister laughs lustily. "That's telling her, Madame Dupont. That's just what she is, a shit-loving bitch. And that's what she's turned her sister into, another shit-loving bitch." Kelly says, turning to Monica, "so wipe herself, sis, wipe off your dirty hands, wipe my shit all over your precious couture clothes." Like a zombie in trance she runs her hands all over her top and slacks, leaving both streaked with smears of her sister's shit. She looks both pained and pleased as she does this. Pained that she is begriming and ruining these delicate, precious garments. Pleased that she is forced to defile and befoul herself in front of us, her deep need for debasement so readily apparent to us all. "Look at your sister, Kelly, she's so filthy," Felicity says, managing these words despite the extreme ordeal of retaining the massive enema. "Ready to expel your enema, Felicity?" Madame Dupont asks. "Yes, Madame, so ready!" Felicity stutters pleadingly. "Does anyone have a suggestion as to how and where Felicity should expel her enema? Madame Dupont asks. "Yes, I do," Kelly answers eager, excitedly, "I think my sister should kneel between Felicity's legs and Felicity should expel it all over Monica." Rectal Retrieval Standing there, wearing clothes that minutes ago were impeccably chic and pristine, but now soiled beyond redemption with fecal wastes, a look of utter amazement animates Monica's face as she realizes that, suddenly, she has been chosen for the role of toilet. Obediently, Monica kneels between Felicity's legs as I deflate the nozzle and pull it out of her rectum. Kelly, Madame Dupont and I now gather closely as Felicity, without warning, suddenly releases the contents of her bowels. "Oh my God!" Monica squeals as the muddy brown enema suddenly cascades with brutal force out of Felicity's bowels and all over her, her clothes, her face, her hair. The brown gruel, mixed with little bullets of shit, showers her endlessly as Felicity continues to loudly expel the massive enema. "Your sister makes an excellent toilet," Madame Dupont tells Kelly. "She does," Kelly says cheerfully, "I use her as one often." Monica blushes with exquisite embarrassment as Monica kneels there, Felicity emptying her bowels all over Kelly's sister. Then Madame Dupont and I share a knowing look, a sly, knowing smile. "Do she need to shit by any chance, Carole?" Madame Dupont asks. "I do," I tell her, feeling a delicious fullness in my bowels, "how about you, Madame?" "I think I could use to take a good shit. And a piss too." "Well look there," I say, pointing down at Monica, "Kelly's sister seems to be an excellent toilet." Madame Dupont approaches and stands right over Monica, her two feet planted on either side of her kneeling body. Monica looks up to see she is not wearing panties, then glances down a moment to watch and feel another explosive geyser of muddy brown enema water escaping from Felicity's anal spout. And just then she feels a shower falling on her hair, a warm shower, the shower of Madame Dupont's strong jet of urine. Moments later a heavy, pungent mass falls on her head with a soft thud as Madame Dupont now shits on her head. "Yes, yes! Shit on my sister, shit on her!" Kelly shrieks with lewd delight. The enema splashing all over her from one direction, piss and shit showering down upon her from above, Monica groans in extreme humiliation, her eyes doggish and utterly slavish as she is reduced to nothing more than a target for other's women's wastes, a human toilet. Madame Dupont, having satisfied her toilet needs, now moves away from Monica as I take her place. But rather than shit on her head, as she just did, I just lower my ass, slowly swaying it sideways across her head, then pushing down with my bare buttocks, mashing Madame Dupont's shit into her hair. Then I lift off as Monica glances up at my now dirty brown ass. Suddenly her attention is again diverted as Felicity expels an enormous enema spurt, probably ejecting a full litre with one powerful squirt, that jet splashing against her face. She's by now completely covered with piss and shit and enema water, and smells as one would expect she to smell, like an overflowing toilet. But I still have to piss and shit. And now I stand above Monica, facing her, holding my labia open right above her mouth. Those labia are brown, caked with Felicity's shit. Now as I hold them open she sees even more shit, as I scrape some away so my urethra is exposed. "Open wide," I say as she open her lips and I urinate between them, she gulping it down as best she can, the surplus spilling out of her mouth and down onto her soaked and now utterly soiled silk top. The drenched garment now clings to her breasts, the contours of her nipples strikingly visible. "Shit in her mouth," Kelly hisses, "shit in my sister's mouth!" "Uh huh," Felicity says, adding to the chorus, now much relieved as she has emptied her enema, "shit in Kelly's sister's mouth. Let her eat shit!" And that's just what I do as she obediently opens her mouth and a massive turd snakes out of my anus and between her lips. Greedily, obscenely, she lets the big turd stick right out of her mouth, holding it in place with a hand, sucking it as she would suck a cock or a dildo. "Look, look!" Kelly says, having now moved behind she and pointing down, "My sister has peed and shit in her pants. What a pig she is! Look at that." Madame Dupont now releases Felicity from her restraints and she gets up off the examining table on weak, shaky legs. Now I, Kelly, Felicity and Madame Dupont gather behind Monica to see a large wet splotch covering the crotch, seat and thighs of those cashmere slacks. And at the center of that urine stained expanse is a big bulge, an obscene brown bulge. "Maybe I should get you diapers, sisr," Kelly cackles mockingly. She kneels there, still fully dressed. But her clothes are utterly soiled with wastes. Her hair is matted with shit and her face is smeared with it. Under all the brown we can still see the pink of embarrassment on her blushing face. And the look in her eyes betrays the deep sense of utter humiliation she now feels. Particularly obscene is, at one end, the fat log of my shit sticking out of her mouth, and, at the other end, the bulging mass of shit she evacuated into her panties. Her sister now reaches down and gives the bulge in the seat of her slacks a hard smack, mashing it into her. And in this state, dizzy with humiliation, with unimaginable debasement, she reaches under her soiled slacks, under the elastic of her panties, down to her cunt where shit has oozed into her labial fold and she begins to masturbate in a frenzy, heedless that we are all watching her bestial lust in full display. She soon brings herself to an excruciatingly intense climax, her orgasmic cries muffled by the big log of shit she is clenching between her lips. "Sis, look at you! You are such a shitty pig, such a piss and shitbag!" her sister cackles gleefully as we nod in agreement, sniffing the air, Monica's svelte body reeking of urine and excrement, quivering in post-orgasmic tremors. "Be nice, Kelly," Madame Dupont chides, "your sister is no more a filthy pig than are you, or your girlfriend Felicity over there. Nor any more of a filthy pig, I might add, than Carole. You're all shit-loving bitches and don't you ever forget it!"