remembered Dean's inscription in the book stating that Abigail was a treasure as well. Chuckling, she decided that he must write the same thing in every book and the word must be an endearment used throughout the chapters. The word 'naughty' was liberally used. 'Treasure' must be the counterpoint—something to calm the frightened little wife with before or after she offered her bottom up as a sacrifice for her supposed misbehavior. She was calm and content as she drove home, knowing that her friends would be able to take care of their needs and go to bed secure in their love for each other. Perhaps if she and Nick had practiced domestic discipline, they would have been happier. All she really remembered was the fighting, arguments and accusations as she screamed at him, wanting him to fight back, engage or at least acknowledge her feelings, fears and desires. Towards the end she had barely spoken to him, having run out of things to say. Admitting she had felt out of control, she wondered whether their lives would have followed a different path if he had stepped up to the plate. Shaking her head, she decided to abandon that trip down memory lane.
Once home, she changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed with both the book and Cicero. She read late into the night, this time actually reading the chapters and contemplating her reaction to the words. Thinking about her chances of finding someone who would truly consider her a treasure at this stage of her life, she felt an ache in her body and her soul. ' Treasure ', she thought. What a simple word, and yet it now held a new meaning for her. That word had not appeared anywhere in the book except in Dean's inscription, so her earlier thoughts that it was a common endearment hadn't proven true. By the time she finished the book and turned off the light, she was thinking about being someone's treasure herself.
Snuggling down in her bed, she hoped that one day she would find someone who truly and deeply loved her and desired to discover life's possibilities with her by his side. Samantha's words replayed in her head and made her smile. I'm not a fuddy-duddy quite yet. I just need to take Samantha's advice and try to give the male species a second chance. She smiled as she drifted off to sleep, her hand on the book as if she were touching the face of its author.
Chapter 6
Samantha was in bed much earlier than Abby, although she didn't find sleep as easily. Her bottom was throbbing and she ached deep inside as well as out. Her ' date ' had been a rather intense one.
While Ian walked Abby out, Samantha had retreated into their master bathroom and quickly prepared herself as instructed. She had voided her bladder, brushed her teeth and stripped off her clothes. She blushed as she reached into the cabinet and pulled out the enema equipment. Ian didn't believe in the prepared bottles available at the store. He had demonstrated exactly how his view of a proper enema was to be prepared, and administered, within the first month of their marriage. Instead of grabbing a squeeze bottle out of a box, the act of filling the red rubber bag with warm, soapy water focused her mind on what was coming. After attaching the long length of tubing to the bag and then to the nozzle she was required to use, Sam got out the bottle of lubricant and lubed the nozzle well, knowing its size was another reason Ian preferred the old-fashioned equipment. This wasn't a thin, short length of plastic. This was a good six inches in length with a nozzle of a much wider girth that always seemed a challenge to accept. By the time she was lying on the rug, curled on her side, one leg pulled up and the enema streaming down the tubing and filling her, she was moaning softly. Talking to Abby about this was one thing, actually giving herself an enema immediately put her into a very submissive mind-set. She squirmed as her stomach cramped, the water churning deep in her bowels. The bag finally emptied and though
Once home, she changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed with both the book and Cicero. She read late into the night, this time actually reading the chapters and contemplating her reaction to the words. Thinking about her chances of finding someone who would truly consider her a treasure at this stage of her life, she felt an ache in her body and her soul. ' Treasure ', she thought. What a simple word, and yet it now held a new meaning for her. That word had not appeared anywhere in the book except in Dean's inscription, so her earlier thoughts that it was a common endearment hadn't proven true. By the time she finished the book and turned off the light, she was thinking about being someone's treasure herself.
Snuggling down in her bed, she hoped that one day she would find someone who truly and deeply loved her and desired to discover life's possibilities with her by his side. Samantha's words replayed in her head and made her smile. I'm not a fuddy-duddy quite yet. I just need to take Samantha's advice and try to give the male species a second chance. She smiled as she drifted off to sleep, her hand on the book as if she were touching the face of its author.
Chapter 6
Samantha was in bed much earlier than Abby, although she didn't find sleep as easily. Her bottom was throbbing and she ached deep inside as well as out. Her ' date ' had been a rather intense one.
While Ian walked Abby out, Samantha had retreated into their master bathroom and quickly prepared herself as instructed. She had voided her bladder, brushed her teeth and stripped off her clothes. She blushed as she reached into the cabinet and pulled out the enema equipment. Ian didn't believe in the prepared bottles available at the store. He had demonstrated exactly how his view of a proper enema was to be prepared, and administered, within the first month of their marriage. Instead of grabbing a squeeze bottle out of a box, the act of filling the red rubber bag with warm, soapy water focused her mind on what was coming. After attaching the long length of tubing to the bag and then to the nozzle she was required to use, Sam got out the bottle of lubricant and lubed the nozzle well, knowing its size was another reason Ian preferred the old-fashioned equipment. This wasn't a thin, short length of plastic. This was a good six inches in length with a nozzle of a much wider girth that always seemed a challenge to accept. By the time she was lying on the rug, curled on her side, one leg pulled up and the enema streaming down the tubing and filling her, she was moaning softly. Talking to Abby about this was one thing, actually giving herself an enema immediately put her into a very submissive mind-set. She squirmed as her stomach cramped, the water churning deep in her bowels. The bag finally emptied and though
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