A request for a good friend! This one takes place separately from my other Colston fics. He did actually have a housekeeper called Mary, but nothing is known about her, except that she was black, and he left her some money in his will.

The 17th century was known as “the age of the enemas.” The term that began to get used in polite society when referring to enemas was clyster, which comes from the Greek word for wash. Clysters became à la mode among French aristocracy during this period, likely due to King Louis XIV’s ardent Love for them. Samuel Pepys wrote in his diary about having an enema, along with frequent references to his bowel movements.

Thankyou most kindly for the many negative anonymous feedbacks I have received. I shall continue to trigger ye by writing about Edward Colston. 🙂

P.S – this fic contains scat – you have been warned.

Edward Colston had just returned from Portugal, where he’d been trading in wine and textiles. Such was the busy life of the Bristol-born merchant. His trip had been very successful, and yielded a lot of money. Now back at his London-based townhouse, he planned to relax for a few weeks, before embarking on another voyage. First however, he had a delicate problem to deal with. For the past week, he’d been suffering from terrible constipation, and hadn’t visited the close stool for five whole days.

Edward prided himself on his robust health; he’d been fortunate to avoid the many diseases of this age – cholera, typhoid, bloody flux, plague, consumption, flu and smallpox. Whenever he went on an overseas voyage however, his normally regular and daily bowel movements ground to a halt. This was embarrassing for Edward, as he attended a lot of banquets with the Merchant Venturers. To suffer an “accident” would be mortifying.

“My humours must be out of balance.” He muttered as he sat in his study, massaging his bloated belly. “A long sea voyage always does that.” He sighed. His abdomen was sore and he was starting to feel quite under the weather. He couldn’t go on like this. The idea of waste lingering in the rectum and causing a disease was an obsession–if not total paranoia.

“By all the saints, the Devil is poisoning me from the inside,” Edward muttered. He prayed to God, begging him for help, and realised he was going to have to seek out a physician. Not something he relished, for in many cases, a 17th century medic ended up causing more harm than good.

There was a knock on his door, and his housekeeper Mary entered. A good deal younger than him, Mary was a black woman who’d been working for him for several years now. She was an excellent housekeeper and he valued her work very highly. She’d been born in Africa and had been illiterate when he first employed her. He’d taught her to read and write. He wondered if she’d once been a slave, but she never spoke of her early life. It was not in his nature to pry, him being quite a reserved and aloof man to begin with.

“Good evening Master Colston. I brought you a cup of tea.”

“Ah. Thank you, Mary.” he replied, and grimaced. She put down the tray and noticed his discomfort.

“Master Colston, you are not well?”

“Eh? Oh it’s nothing Mary. Just a little stomach ache, that’s all. I’m fine.”

“Oh Master. I hath seen that look before. You are not well. But I leave you now. I know what you need. I can help. If you change your mind, just ask.”

She left, and Edward wondered what she meant by “I know what you need.”

An hour later, he went to his bedchamber. He tried to shit in the close stool again, and strained for a while, but was unable to expel anything, not even a pea-sized piece of turd.

Sweat ran down his forehead. “If I don’t shit soon, I may die!” Edward groaned, massaging his painful abdomen again. He took a deep breath. He was going to have to swallow his pride and ask Mary for help. The thought of discussing such a personal thing with his housekeeper, was beyond embarrassing, but Edward was desperate.

Mary was in the kitchen, tidying up, when Edward sheepishly appeared.

“Oh Master Colston!” She said, curtseying and putting down the cloth she was using. “Are you feeling better?”

“Not really, Mary,” he muttered, hand on his belly. “Er, I wondered if you could help me? This is…a delicate matter, so please forgive me.” He started to blush.

“Master Colston cannot shit?” She replied, with no hint of shame.

Her boldness only served to embarrass him further. “Er no, I can’t. Not for five days.” He fiddled with his long periwig.

“That’s not good. But not to worry. I’ll help you. I’ll prepare a clyster for you at once. Warm milk and treacle is exactly what you need!”

Edward’s eyes widened at the mention of clyster. He knew what they were, but had never had one. “Oh…I was hoping for something that could be taken by mouth.”

Mary smiled. “It’s too late for that, Master Colston. You need to be purged of your shit. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I used to work as a nurse…before I came to work for you. I have given many clysters to men and women of different classes and colours. Go up to your bedchamber and I shall be up as soon as I have prepared the treatment. Light plenty of candles.”

He meekly obeyed. Not long after, he heard footsteps on the stairs. His nervousness increased when Mary entered, carrying a bowl and a large brass contraption he recognised as a clyster syringe.

“Master Colston, I must ask you to remove your coat and breeches,” Mary said, setting down the apparatus on the bedside table.

“Uh, right.” he said, removing his long coat. He slipped out of his buckled shoes and hesitated.

She noticed his shyness and moved to reassure him. “Don’t feel embarrassed, Master Colston. I have seen many an unclothed man before. You have been very good to me and to help you is an honour. You will feel so much better after this treatment. It yields very quick and effective results.”

“Very well.” He unbuttoned his breeches and removed them. He gave a little cough as he noticed Mary briefly glance at his cock. She picked up a small bottle of oil, and began talking him through the procedure.

“First, I’m going to lubricate your arsehole, then I’m going to put the clyster syringe in. If it begins to hurt at all, just tell me and I’ll stop the flow until it doesn’t hurt anymore. It’ll be best if you can take the full amount, for best results. Once you do, I’ll remove the syringe, and you have to keep your arse clenched so it stays in, then you can sit on the close stool and expel it. Is that alright, Master Colston? Can you lie on your side for me?”

Edward nodded in response as Mary finished her explanation, he was so nervous he was shaking slightly. His cheeks were burning at the realisation his arsehole, cock and balls were on full view.

“In the west of Africa where I was born,” Mary began, “the calabash gourd is used traditionally to administer clysters. Along the upper Congo River they make a hole in one end of the gourd for filling it, and using a resin to attach a hollow cane to the gourd’s neck. The cane is inserted into the arse of the patient. They been doing it that way for centuries.”

This information, whilst interesting, did not put Edward’s mind at ease.

Mary poured some oil on her index finger, and Edward gave a slight whimper as he was penetrated. Mary’s finger went deeper than he expected, poking around a bit and spreading the lubricant. “Gosh, you really are blocked up.” She exclaimed. “We must get the clyster in with all haste.” Mary slowly removed her oiled finger and wiped it on a towel.

“Okay, I’m putting the syringe in now, Master Colston.” She placed the cold, brass nozzle against Edward’s anus, and inserted it. It slid in without much difficulty. Mary had done a good job applying the oil lubricant, and it felt oddly pleasurable.

Edward gasped as the warm milk and treacle mixture was released into him. It felt good, nothing like he expected, just a warmth and a fullness as it flowed into his bowels. Suddenly, he felt a cramp in his belly and gave a sharp gasp.

“Are you alright Master Colston?” Mary asked. “Deep breaths. Rub your belly.”

“Y-yes. Just a bit of pain,” he said. “Maybe things are starting to move?”

“Just a bit more.” She emptied the full contents of the syringe into him. Edward moaned. The clyster was making him feel like he really had to shit, but he clenched his arse cheeks, holding it in as best he could, still taking deep breaths as Mary had instructed him to and massaging his belly, which was now even more distended.

“There! You’re all done! That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Mary smiled. Edward opened his eyes and looked at her.

“No, it wasn’t.” Edward said meekly. He blushed harder than ever from both being so exposed and secretly enjoying having his arse filled.

“Master Colston, I’m going to remove the syringe now. Be sure to clench your arse tightly when I do, we wouldn’t want you to have a release on the bed,” said Mary. Edward did as he was instructed, clenching as tightly as he could. Mary gently drew the brass nozzle out of her master’s anus. “Right, to the close stool with all haste.”

Luckily, the close stool was only a few feet away, and Edward staggered over to it and was grateful to sit down on the wooden seat. And Mary knew, that with Edward’s rectum already as packed with shit as it was, and little room in there for anything else, that moment would come sooner rather than later.

“Oh God, it’s coming,” Edward groaned. A wave of cramps rushed through him. His guts gurgled and churned. Several loud farts. Then it happened. A rush, like he’d never experienced before. Like everyone, he’d had diarrhoea in the past, but this something different entirely. It was as if his anus were vomiting. Gushes of the clyster mixed with large, lumpy turds shot out of him and landed in the pewter chamber pot inside the close stool cabinet.

Mary smiled and calmly watched him shitting. “That’s it, Master Colston. “Once you start plopping, you’ve expelled the Devil within.”

Edward sighed and moaned at his plops; his embarrassment was mixed with sheer relief, dropping turd after turd into the chamber pot.

“Dear Lord, that feels so good!” There was so much inside him, it looked like he might never stop shitting. Another massive turd slid out of Edward’s throbbing hole and splashed down into the chamber pot, which was nearly filled to the brim with a creamy-brown mix of milk, treacle and shite.

He continued plopping away. As if that wasn’t enough, Edward suddenly and uncontrollably began to piss, a yellow stream shot from the tip of his cock. He let out a string of blasphemy, but Mary acted fast, bringing a second chamber pot from under the bed.

“Not to worry, Master Colston. This usually happens.” She said, placing the pot at his feet to catch the arc of piss. Edward’s pee stream suddenly became heavier, and splashed onto the floor. Without hesitation, Mary slipped her hand round his cock and gently angled it at the chamber pot.

“Ahhh.” Edward closed his eyes as he shat and pissed at the same time. Mary’s warm hand on his member felt divine, and the sudden rush of blood down there proved it.

After what seemed like an eternity, Edward’s bowel was finally empty, along with his bladder. The smell was unpleasant, but the relief – such sweet relief! Edward felt amazing. The cramps had gone, his belly had flattened. His shakiness had gone and he felt his strength returning. His arsehole felt a little sore, but that was to be expected.

“How do you feel now, Master Colston?” Mary said, her voice soft and reassuring.

“Never better. Oh Mary…I can’t thank you enough.”

She motioned for him to stand up. “I am so pleased. Now let’s get you cleaned up.” She dipped a strip of cloth in a bowl of water. This time, Edward did not hesitate, and gladly spread his arse cheeks, allowing her to wipe him clean down there. Only an hour ago, such a thing would’ve been unthinkable – and now he was secretly craving for her finger to enter him again.

“You can put your breeches back on, Master Colston,” Mary said, wiping her hands. She peered at the full pot in the close stool and the one on the floor. “I’ll get those emptied immediately.”

“Oh there’s no hurry,” Edward said. “I ask too much of you. You’ve done so much for me already, Mary.”

She bit her lip as she watched him pull up his breeches and noticed he was sporting a full erection.

“My work is not yet done, Master Colston. You still need further help.”

“Oh? You think I might shit again?”

“Nay. Your bowel and bladder are empty, but…” she knelt down before him and put her hand on his cock. “Your balls are still full.”

And with that, she grinned and lowered her head…