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A Spanking--and An Enema!

I don't like to discuss this very freely, because getting a punitive enema was about as humiliating as a punishment could get, so when I write about my spankings I tend to gloss over the enema part without going into too much detail. But many of my readers have asked me to reveal what the enema was like, what happened during its administration, and, of course, why ever did Mom give us enemas on top of our spankings? It made no sense, skeptics say.
Actually it made perfect sense. Many of you may remember the good old days, or at least heard about them, when a common domestic punishment was a big spoonful of castor oil. People know that it tasted awful, and that was punishment enough! But they may not realize the after-effects of the castor oil treatment. In a few hours the young victim would gallop to the toilet and poo his or her brains out! The effect was long-lasting--that is, there were several urgent trips to the toilet--which kept the kid out of mischief for a while!
An enema works more quickly, but results in the same effect--an urgent trip to the potty.
How did Mom hit upon this great idea?
First of all, Mom was a trained nurse and made her living at it. She received her MSN degree (Master of Science in Nursing) and was far from ignorant. Back when we were growing up, and for a long time previously, many parents believed in the magic power of a good enema to cure many ills. If you felt queasy, had a headache, tummy ache, or were constipated, out came the enema bag to set things right! Such treatment was doctor-approved, too. Some years ago I bought an old book at a library sale, about a country doctor's old-fashioned remedies. Now this looks interesting, I thought. As I read the book, I realized there was one subject the author kept harping on--a sound enema for just about everything, including diarrhea! I got rid of the book fast! But I tell you this to give an idea of what people thought of the enema.
So when we felt out of sorts, Mom got out the red rubber bag, put the ailing girl over her lap as if for a spanking, and pumped her full of a mild solution of warm water and soapsuds. Then she let the girl do her business on the potty. The enema was very unpleasant, and we hated having to get one. My two sisters and I made a big whiny fuss about the prospect. In fact my little sister Audrey would actually beg for death rather than face the enema! "Get a gun!" she would cry. "Shoot me instead!" Now that would have been an extreme alternative, and all of us, including Mom, could not help but laugh at the poor imploring girl. But that gives you an idea of how much we hated the enema.
So when we were pre-teens, Mom decided that if we disliked an enema so much, she would use it as a supplement to every spanking. After all, we were in the same position, and our panties were down for the hairbrush anyway, so while the girl's bottom was bare she would get a nice big enema chaser!
Mom also improved the enema somewhat to make it more uncomfortable than a clinical enema. The water was heated to just over body temperature, an even one hundred degrees. Any hotter could be dangerous, and the purpose of the enema was to punish, not to harm. Besides the soapsuds (Mom swirled a cake of Ivory soap into the water to suds it up, and soap is a natural agent for getting the urge to poo!) Mom added baking soda to give the girl a bloated feeling, and salt to prevent the colon from absorbing the solution. She also obtained a large barium enema nozzle from the hospital, rather than the usual small enema tip, to make the punishment more uncomfortable. All in all, the enema was safe and did not hurt us--except maybe for our pride!
The girl to be punished had to endure a full bag--two quarts--of this dreadful solution, then hold it in for five minutes while the enema worked its magic. Of course, Mom was well-trained enough to determine when the girl could hold no more, and she would halt the procedure. This was especially true of a younger girl like Audrey, who could not hold a full two quarts. My other sister Gretchen and I could hold more because we were young teens by then. Mom's saying was that the enema should continue "until the bag is empty and the girl is full!"
When the time came for the dreaded punishment, the girl in question had to march to the bathroom and take out all the necessary equipment for her discipline--the solid wood hairbrush, the enema set which was kept in its original orange box (I remember it was a DeVol kit), Vaseline to grease the nozzle, and clothespins to hold up her skirt and slip for the procedure. Her sisters had to come in to watch her punishment, so that a lesson would be learned by all of us!
Before long Mom came in from the kitchen carrying a two-quart glass pitcher full of the sudsy concoction, which looked like thin milk. She filled the bag carefully, listening to the gurgles emitting from the mouth, then screwed on the cap, attached the red hose, clamped it shut with a metal stop valve, and hung the dreadful mix from the shower curtain rod with a metal S hook, high above the tub where the spanking would take place. The girl to be spanked had to hold the hairbrush while Mom pinned up her skirt and petticoat, holding them up securely with the spring clothespins, and skinned down her panties and stockings (if any) to the knees, leaving the girl bare from waist to knees. Then Mom sat on the wide rim of the bathtub with her dress hiked up and her girdle showing, and made the girl lie across her stocking tops.
Giving a scolding, then handing down a sentence of how many spanks the girl would get (usually between fifty and sixty), Mom began the tanning with sharp brisk spanks, five on a cheek, then five on the other, while the girl counted them out between yips and howls. I can tell you this method made the bottom red hot after less than twenty of these. I longed for the tanning to be over--but then I remembered that dreaded enema hanging above me, which would start once the spanking was finished!
Finally I reached the end of the sentence, and I had to thank Mom for tanning me. Now came time for the next feature!
The nozzle Mom used was a barium nozzle, bigger than the usual enema tip, with a sort of pear-shaped end and a plastic ring collar at the base to keep it from slipping all the way in. With her thumb and forefinger, Mom spread apart my roasting cheeks while I gasped from the pain of having them touched, then patted some Vaseline on the exposed rosebud. She pressed the enema tip against it until the sphincter finally gave and the nozzle slipped in. We girls usually let out a little moan at this point, because although it did not hurt, the nozzle was very uncomfortable--especially the bulbous tip. Mom wiggled the inserted nozzle to see that it was properly moored, then opened the stopcock with a loud CLICK!
At first the enema was not too bad, sort of a sensation of a little stream of water running up me, but soon I began to feel the bloating inside my colon, and I groaned some more. Finally I begged Mom to stop!
Mom clicked shut the valve, then told me to take some deep breaths while she gave me what we called the "Rib Rub"--a gentle massage of the girl's back and ribcage. This usually allowed the bloating to subside. Then CLICK! again, and the enema resumed.
"How much more?" I asked, still over Mom's knee and facing the tiled floor. I could not see the bag in this position.
"Not too much more," assured Mom. "You're doing fine." Well I sure didn't think I was doing fine! I had an overwhelming urge to poo and felt like I had the biggest case of diarrhea ever! It felt awful!
At last I heard the bag above me gurgle out its last dregs of soapsuds. Mom clicked the stopcock closed. The enema was finished!
But now I had to hold in the awful mixture for five minutes while Mom pressed my sore cheeks together over the big nozzle. "Now, Pamela Ann," she would begin, "what have you learned from this experience?"
Fighting back the urge to poo, I explained to Mom and my sisters how I intended to amend my behavior and not do again whatever had brought me across the parental lap. I squirmed in distress and begged to be let up.
After the longest five minutes in the world, I felt Mom remove the big nozzle with a wet kissing sound, and I actually could feel my heinie hole shut itself with a silent snap.
"Now," said Mom at last, "you may poo."
She gently helped me off her stocking tops and I hobbled with panties down, and bloated like a guppy, to the waiting toilet across the room. The spanking had sizzled my buns like a sunburn, so this part would not be easy. We called sitting down "The Moment of Truth," because it was the indicator of how sore the girl's heinie was. Invariably the girl let out a yelp as she planted her butt on the hard seat. Mom was satisfied that she had been well-spanked!
While the family was treated to some very embarrassing squeaks, trickles and gushes, I released the pent-up enema, covering my face in my hands in shame. We were forbidden to laugh at the girl in this position, but sometimes it was difficult not to, because of the silly sounds emanating from her pooper. I know I cried from the humiliation as much as from sitting on my sore behind. After all was out of me I commenced using the toilet paper and finally flushing . Then I washed my hands, and Mom marched me to the living room corner, where I had to stand facing the wall with skirts up and panties down--for one full hour. After that it was up to bed to rest and weep into my pillow.
The spanking was pretty bad, but although it was not very painful, the enema was worse with its intense discomfort and deep humiliation. I got my final spanking and enema when I was 19, back in 1978, and if I never see another enema bag again it will be too soon!
BadPam BadPam 51-55, F 10 Responses Jun 30, 2013

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To my readers:
This post has now surpassed fifty thousand views--yay! I feel it is only right to thank all those thousands of people who have read this post and made it a success. Thanks so much to all of you!
Pamela Ann Dumont

Wow, I truly thought I was the only one to get the enema spanking combo, so I'm very glad you shared this. My enemas were necessary medical ones for severe constipation due to an anal Fisher, however they were frequently combined with spankings because I fought the enemas so much. Spankings usually occurred before the enemas if I fart getting naked and laying on the towel spread on the bathroom floor for me, but also occurred with the enema hose in me and running if I fart or try to pull it out. My enemas and spankings were given by my mom and dad together. They worked as a team, with daddy undressing me as I cried and struggled while mommy filled the big green enema bag at the sink and put the soap in and shook it up. Daddy would bend me over his lap and hold me in place, or forced me down onto the bathroom floor on a towel. He would pull my cheeks open so mommy could rub Vaseline across my anus and push her slippery finger in to get me ready for the nozzle. I would try to kick and squirm and get up but that would hold me forced down in that position. They did always try to be loving, and would tell me, honey hold still it's for your own good, it will be easier if you don't fight us, you'll feel so much better afterwards, we love you so much. I remember clenching my anus shot as hard as I could walk crying and begging please don't put it in, it will hurt, but mommy would rub the hard nozzle across my anus With Vaseline slowly pushing the tip against my tight anus until the tip would penetrate and I would cry out as it slid in despite my best efforts. Then daddy would have to hold me down really hard, naked on my left side, as mommy I clicked the clamp and the soapy water began to run in. They would keep telling me, we love you honey, it's for your own good, don't fight it and it will feel so much better, you'll feel so good when mommy and daddy are done. Mommy would always stop and started to help with cramps and to enable me to take what in retrospect seems like a giant full bag for a little girl, so this made it take for ever. The whole time that meant I was laying naked on the floor with my breasts and labia and Hiney exposed with daddy's hands all over my naked body to force me to stay down on the floor and mommy's hands all around my Hiney and genitals holding the enema in from me trying to pull it out. Quite a few times, especially as I got older and bigger, I would be able to kick or squirm out of daddy's grasp, which always resulted in a spanking right there naked on the floor, held down and with the enema still up my rectum and flowing in. The whole time I would be begging, please let me up daddy please take it out mommy it hurts, please take the enema out I don't want it. There were also a couple times where I did succeed in getting a hand free and pulling the hose out, which resulted in stopping the enema pulling me up off the floor and going naked over daddies knees as he sat on the closed toilet in the bathroom spanking me very hard while I cried and kicked and mommy refill the spelled part of the enema. They always told me then they were disappointed in me for not cooperating, and that they loved me very much and wanted to get this Over with so I would feel better. Then the animal would be restarted, but now on a red sore Hiney which felt even more humiliating to have spread open so the slippery Vaseline finger and nozzle could penetrate me and begin their work again. As I got older, to my next arousal, harbor, and Shane, I began to develop strong secret arousal from the naked forced into my procedures. I became more cooperative, putting on a show that it was just because I was more grown up and hence realized cooperating with make it easier, But really it was because I shamefully and with great embarrassment began to like the guilty feelings of mommy and daddy stripping me touching me, and spreading me open to push that enema in me. Because I didn't fight and there was now no danger of the hose coming out and making a mess, I was about to get my enemas in bed. They were usually done on mommy and daddy's bed, because the room was attached to the bathroom. They would spread a shower curtain on their bed with towels over, and I would have to take my clothes off in front of mommy and daddy as they got things ready. I would lay down naked, still whimpering despite not liking them, or maybe because I liked them and that was so confusing. Daddy would position me naked on their bed, and mommy would say get in the Sims position, and daddy would bend my knees up into position. He would stroke my hair and Pat my back and told me I was a good girl for taking my big and I'm so well. Mommy would tell me she was very proud of me, and that I was a good girl for taking an enema from mommy and daddy like I was supposed to, as she spread my Hiney open and began that process of rubbing my anus with Vaseline and sliding her finger slowly into me to lubricate me. I would whimper the whole time, but was loving and hating it at the same time – again, I think that's why I whimpered and cried. I would still in shame clinch my anus against the enemy going in, more because I was crunching against the shame of liking it and needing to hide it, but in it would go as always. Mommy and daddy would stroke my hair and my back and Pat my arms and Hiney, and tell me I was a good girl and they loved me very much for cooperating with my enemas and if they knew how embarrassing it was but it was okay because it was our secret. Okay, yikes, I guess that's enough of my long-held secret story. Just wanted to say I understood your experiences.

Oh dear, so sorry for the many misspellings – I was using speech to text and didn't realize it would make some many errors.

Great story. I know what you mean about growing to like something and having conflicting feelings (loving and hating it at the same time). Feel free to friend/message me if you're interested in talking more about these experiences and feelings.

Thanks for sharing that - but not sure how to 'friend' someone? :-)

I can do that from my end. All you need to do is respond to the request.

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I too received spankings and enemas growing up so I completely understand.

I always thought my sisters and I were the only ones until I found out that the spanking/enema combo was quite common!

I have never know anyone else who received this type of discipline. It was awful for sure. What I went through was crazy.

Well, Mom knew we hated enemas, so what better punishment?

thanks for sharing

personally i reather enjoy enemas as i feel clean afterwards

Great story Pam...I like your attention to every detail. By todays standards, your Mom probaly would be accused of child abuse !

As a form Child Protection Caseworker I can tell you that she probably would have. If e, she would have been cited for "excessive corporal punishment" because we could not sit down for two or three days after a spanking. She would have been told to go a little easier on our behinds But back when we got spanked it was considered good parenting!

Sorry, the keyboard is not responding. That should read "If anything, she would have been cited for..."

If you are, or will be a parent in the future , would you spank your kids if they misbehaved ?

I have three girls who are now grown women. I used to spank them, but not very hard and nowhere near what my Mom gave me--and definitely no enemas! I gave them their last spankings when they were 16. You might want to read my story, "The Spanking Stool," for more information.

Good for you Pam !

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Sounds like mom had a sadistic side to her.

Some people say that, but my Mom wasn't really that way at all. Yes her punishments were pretty harsh by today's standards, but some of my friends got worse--and more frequently! I only got a tanning about once every two months, which I think is pretty good. And even though Mom spanked until we couldn't sit down, I think it was better than what my friend Laura got, stretching out naked and getting whipped with a wet belt! Or Daphne, who had to wear specially designed panties to protect her bottom from being skinned. I'm also finding out that a lot of parents used the spanking-and-enema combo, so Mom was not alone in that. And what surprised my friends, Mom never punished us for getting into trouble at school. My friends assured me that if they had gotten paddled like I did, their parents would have added to the red when they got home! Mom was a single parent and did the best she could for us, and tried to maintain some order in the best way she knew how.

Thank you for sharing that story, I am a bit older than you are and I remember going through roughly the same treatment growing up. I spent what seemed like a lot of time over Mom's knee getting spanked, and yes getting an enema a few times as well. Spanking and an enema just seemed to go together, the bare bottomed spanking first then the enema. Like you said in those days the enema was a cure all, if I had a cough or a sore throat, then more than likely I would get and enema. Many times I was hesitant to tell Mom, I was not feeling well because I knew it would mean an enema, that red bag hanging on the bathroom door and me over her knee. Your description was pretty much how it was done with me as well, except I was ******** from the waist down for an enema. I grew up on a farm so the only days Mom wore stockings was on Sunday, but like you she would hike up her skirt (women seldom wore pants in those days) and I would go across her bare thighs.

Even though we lived in a farmhouse (it was no longer a working farm but still had a barn) Mom was a professional nurse and always wore a girdle and stockings, and of course always a dress or skirt and blouse. We were also raised to wear skirts, and I still do, complete with a slip.
Yeah, any sort of illness was met with an enema, and as I explained, we hated it. I never developed a fetish for it, but have steered clear of the enema bag for many years. I never gave one to my girls weither. I would say my sisters and I were tanned about once every two months on average. We were not really "bad" girls, but did get into some mischief for which we should have known better!
Under the hairbrush, I was known to kick my panties and stockings off completely, so in effect I was nude from waist to toes by the time I was marched to the corner for my Hour of Shame. My sisters nicknamed me The Kicker!

I never really caught the enema fetish either, but I remember how I hated to get one every time Mom thought I needed it, which was quite often.
I was a kicker as well, and I remember Mom putting one leg over my legs to help hold me in place. Her spankings seemed to me to never end they lasted so long. She had a wooden paddle made out of an old wood shingle which was about 1/4" thick about 18" long, an about 3" wide on the business end, and boy could she make that thing hurt. She would say "its supposed to hurt, it doesn't do you any good if it doesn't hurt". My cousin Cathy was the only girl that ever witnessed me getting spanked, She and I were both spanked by my Mom and her Mom, but never had an enema with her present. We did discuss getting enemas because her Mom and my Mom were sisters, and both believed in the enema, like your Mom, her Mom was an RN.

We always knew how many spanks we were going to get, because Mom handed down a formal sentence and we were required to count out every spank--or get extras! She never put us in a scissor grip, but we were allowed to kick and flail all we needed to, as an indication that the hairbrush was really hurting!

I like to add I do appreciate ladies who wear skirts and dresses today, that is the way it was when I was young and I much prefer it today.

WE never had to count, because we never knew how many we would get, and I doubt that Mom did either, She just spanked until She felt we had been properly punished, and were bawling uncontrollably. She used to say that we get spanked until we are crying softly. I think that using the scissor grip was the only way Mom and Aunty could keep me over their lap I was kicking and squirming so much.

Skirts are no longer required for a job, and no woman can legally be forced to wear one (except a lawyer in court from what I understand). Until I went to senior high school all girls were required to wear skirts to class or get into real trouble. Now skirts are an option, and I always preferred them over slacks--which make my butt look big. I admit it.

Then there are those of us who like big butts, more to spank..... lol

Rachel, English and Irish schools are known for requiring uniforms. Here in the US mostly private schools have uniforms, and sometimes they only have a dress code to follow without having to wear a uniform. I wore one in Catholic grade school, consisting of a burgundy plaid jumper, burgundy knee socks and a burgundy "Wyatt Earp" bow tie, and a white blouse.

Yes, Rachel--I don't think American girls wore uniform knickers. We always wore our own personal ones. In high school I wore miniskirts, which were fashionable, and they were always pleated so I could tuck them down and not flash my underwear! Even when I had to bend over for a paddling, the witness tugged down my short skirt so nothing embarrassing would show!

Rachel, I understand caning is outlawed in the UK, as paddling is now outlawed in my state of New York. But many states in the South still have paddling, so it is alive and well!

Were I live there is no dress code. most of us wear jeans or shorts. i think that its stupid to punish someone on what they wear, if they arnt doing anything hurtful, then why not. i dont wear kickers i wear panties (think there different). I live in NY as well, i got paddled a few times in the south when i lived there. no one uses a cane here, its a belt, hairbrush, spoon, or paddle.

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Very graphic but extremely fascinating storytelling. Thanks for sharing it.

Thanks! Maybe it was a bit too graphic--but I wanted to convey the shame and discomfort of punitive enemas, and why I hated them.

You may be the best storyteller on EP. Your attention to detail and ability to make the reader feel like they were there watching (I don't know if that makes you feel good or not. lol) is wonderful.

Really? Wow, it does make me feel good! I was a Linguistics major and I developed a flair for the English language (as well as five others), so that may be part of my secret talent.

Pam I know this had to be embarassing writing it today as well as getting it when you were 19. But its a great story and very well written. thank you

Thanks! One little feature I left out was that the baking soda produced gas after a few hours and gave the girl a very unladylike case of the farts. That part we could laugh at! I'm sure Mom knew the effect of the baking soda, and that it would be one final feature of shame for the poor girl.

you always come up w more. love your stories. thank you. i read the final spanking one where you got 100 that must of hurt bad then to go sit on a hard toilet. she was tough

Yes, it hurt very much and really devastated my rear end! As you read, Mom actually cried and begged forgiveness for that, and of course I did forgive her.
Sometimes it's hard to remember details of things that happened nearly forty years ago, and after I write them I sometimes think, "Oh yeah! I forgot to mention such and such." Of course you probably gather that I write about other things besides spankings