It was a strange evening. One where I, for reasons of my own, accepted the role of prey although never rising above a level of four in feral awareness. She, for reasons I won't mention in this story, has predatory urges at certain times, which we entertained on that occasion. I did enjoy a substantially higher carnal awareness of her, but as a passive entity. But that's the other story that I mentioned earlier. This is the story of her second meeting with Mr. Hyde.The intensity of my focus on her now at ten, I grasped a breast and found my way to her pink nipple. I can't see it now, but I remember its color from the previous night and, as I feel it between my finger and thumb, I use that memory to assist in hardening my prick. With my other arm -- the one connected to the shoulder I am lying on -- I pull her panties aside from her cunt and slide a finger between its lips. It is wet enough, a good thing because I do not wish to cause her pain and I do not wish to take the time to coax. Sammy was nearly broken after the third enema, and barely bothered to scream anymore. She waited in her tight wrappings, awaiting the next one.However, instead of the icy blast filling her after a few minutes of rest, she instead felt herself fill with warmer water. This warm water did not seem so bad, as it didn't fill her to such a high pressure. She could feel the water expand her colon, but it never got to the point of making her feel like she was bursting. She could feed the water draining out of her as fast as it was pumped in, continually flushing her. This seemed far better to Sammy, but she quickly realized that with the constant churn in her bowels, she'd never be able to get to sleep.After what felt like hours to Sammy, lulled into an exhausted daze by the plumbing inside her, she finally felt the water drain out entirely. "Finally," she thought to herself, "this isn't that comfortable anymore, but at least I'll be able to sleep." She was getting used to the feeling of her.
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