Boiled OkraI think lots of kids got punished with enemas, but they aren't exactly the kind of "punishment enemas" you always hear about. What I mean is, I didn't usually get a really big enema, but I got lots of smaller ones. As a kid I had to live with two older cousins, a brother and sister. They were very strict and I had to address them as "Uncle" and "Aunt." It was a really hard time for me. I had moved in with them when I was 5. Before that I had lived with my grandparents and they basically spoiled me, no rules, no spankings, I got to do what I wanted, that sort of thing.
But then I had to go stay with these cousins and they had rules about everything, when I did my homework, when I did my chores, where I put my shoes, my clothes, my school books, when I could watch t.v., etc., etc. I also had to eat what was put before me and that turned out to be a problem.
One night I remember we had like fried fish and rice and okra. I can't remember when this happened but maybe six. My Aunt loved okra and served it a lot during the summer, fried or baked but this time it was boiled. I don't know if you've ever seen boiled okra but it's nasty. It's almost slimy and really weird. Well, I didn't want any part of it, but Aunt say I have to eat it, but I just played with it. She says "no pie" if I don't eat the okra, but I just played with ti some more. Finally she says I can go---but it was a trick, she said she knows how to handle little boys who don't do what they're told.
I am watching t.v., like the Beverly Hillbillies or something like that. My other cousin, my "Uncle" comes in and picks me up. He takes me into the kitchen. I see my Aunt standing there. She has the enema syringe in her hand. There is a pillow on the table. I panic and try to get away but Uncle is holding me tight. He sits me down on the edge of the table, there is a towel and rubber sheet on the table. I try to fight back but each of them has one of my hands, I can't fight and with their other free hand they start unbuttoning my shirt. They are undressing me. Uncle takes my hands and rolls me on my back on the pillow. Aunt is taking my pants off. I start to cry and beg "no, no" and "I'll be good." She says I have to have an enema so I'll feel better.
I am naked. They roll me over so I lying on my tummy. Aunt say do what she says or there will be a spanking. They are spreading my legs, they spread them really wide. Aunt is by my bare bottom. I can feel her finger, she is spreading vaseline on my anus. Her finger slips in my bottom and I cry out. She is working her finger in and out of my bottom. Uncle is holding my leg and keeping me still.
She puts the enema in me. She begins to move it back and forth and then begins to squirt. I feel a shot of water go up my bottom. I try to get away but Uncle has me tight. She says I have to have more. She puts the syringe in me again and squirts it hard. I am getting a tummy ache out of it. She says I have to have more.
She must have given me three or four bulb fulls, I don't know. Finally she quit, I am still lying on my stomach, but now I have my legs and bottom pressed tightly together. She is holding my bottom tightly. She says I have to hold it and let it work. I cry and say I want the potty. She says will I be a good boy and eat my dinner next time. I say yes.
They had put the potty chair by the table. Aunt lets me sit on it. I remember the sound as the enema comes out. She is sitting next to me, watching me make my doo-doo. She tells Uncle to bring her the little spanker. He goes to the closet and gets the little red wooden paddle that my Aunt likes. She calls it her "spanker." Uncle gives it to Aunt, and she tells me that when I'm finished I have to have a spanking because I was naughty, and then she will put me to bed. She says I have to wear a dipper to bed to make sure I don't mess because of the enema.
So a few nights after that, my Aunt serves boiled okra again and I ate every bite. She makes it every summer after that and I always eat it because I want to be a good boy.
LittleFlynn 51-55, M 5 Responses 0 Aug 7, 2011