Nude and on her chest with her ass in the air is how we find lolita next. A 16lb. Bowling ball is fastened to one ankle. Her arms are in a strappado behind her back. A iv stand is rolled over to her with a 5 quart enema bag held off of it. It is full of milk. I pop an enema nozzle into her ass hole. She nervously looks behind her trying to see what I will do next. I stop and ask her whether she has ever had an enema before. No, she says. I ask her what she thinks will be happening next: I really don’t know, she replies. I take a black ball gag and tightly buckle it into her face hole and start the milk flowing. It only takes moments before she groans once and then twice. Soon, she begins to groan in an awful, woeful way. Consistently, rhythmically. The flow is stopped and I question her. I ask her how it feels in her body. She lets me know she needs to “****”. When her cramps subside I let the flow start up again. We go through this dance several times, listening to her wail and deal with the cramps before they subside and more milk is discharged into her rectum. But it is getting harder and harder for her to deal with the pain in her body. That personal pain of needing to **** violently. In spite of her cries and cramps, in spite of the shriek of her panic and urgency I put still more milk inside of her. She isn't sure she can handle it, the look of terror on her face when she sees me go to release yet more milk leaves no doubt she is at her limit, at her ability to keep from shitting on herself. She starts to beg for permission to “****”. Her requests just get more and more desperate and needy. She is literally begging to take a ****. When the bag is emptied I warn her not to let any out and then remove the nozzle from her **** hole. Then she is told to get up and go fetch her bathroom, a tin bucket sitting across the room. She makes her way up and stands. She hunches over as she drags the bowling ball attached to her ankle toward the far side of the room. When she collects her bucket she brings it back to where she received the enema so that she can squat over it and release it. She cries from frustration and need, she needs to go bad and it takes time to get her bathroom in place. Once she does she is told to squat and **** in it. Without any hesitation she does just that. At first her embarrassment controls her ability to let it flow from her ass. It is clear from the sound of the milk hitting the bottom of the bucket that her sphincter is still tightly closed, her shame not allowing her to relax in this mortifying situation. But then urgency takes over where shame left off and the milk begins to rush from her ass. The sound of it filling the bucket lets you know she isn't holding back one bit now. It sounds like a tap has been turned on full blast. I make her stare at you, the viewer, while she releases it. And it is clear from her face that absolute relief is washing over her. It even trumps her dehumanization. Her ball gagged face looks back at you as she empties quarts of milk out of her ass hole. I tell her how disgusting what she is doing is --even as the full sound of milk gushing from her hole splashes into her bucket. When she drops her head in shame I yell at her to keep looking at you, the viewer. It seems like the flow of milk from her ass will never cease. It is loud and obvious when more than milk finds its way from her dirty hole. You can hear it splash as she stares at you in humility. At times she moans in unison with the massive flow of liquid leaving her behind. It causes large spit bubbles to pop from behind her ball gag, and yet, the milk just keeps flowing. She begins to cry as all sort of disgusting noises start coming from her ass –and still she is made to stare at you. And it is disgusting. It reminds one of the sounds you might hear from a highway rest stop in the men’s room of a guy who consumed way to many spicy tacos the day before. Keep staring at the camera! Finally she muffles out a statement: i’m done. She is told to get up with her bucket and show it to you, the viewer. I ask her what is in it. I make her look at it. I make her tell me what made those disgusting turds. When I can’t understand her I make her tell me again until we can understand her. When i’m satisfied I have her take her bucket back across the room, ankle still chained to the bowling ball and place it back where she found it.