Imagination or fact, I'm not sure which, but the enemas seemed to become hotter, soapier and a lot larger in volume. Also, at the same time, I was receiving more and more spankings from Aunt Ginny. I guess, up until about age 5, I do not ever remember receiving a major spanking from her. Oh, I recall when she was displeased with me and gave me a half-hearted swat to the fully clothed (and quite possibly diapered) bottom, but this paled in comparison to the ordeals she would put me through after about age 5.

Near that age she announced to me that my misbehavior could no longer be blamed on "developmental areas of wanting to establish autonomy," and I was at the point of "simply being a brat!" As I mentioned in chapter 1, she was an RN, so she was pretty much up on these things, looking back on all of it, I am not sure she was not completely right.

Anyway, she announced to me that from that point forward I would be getting "real" spankings from her which included her "warping" my bottom with her hairbrush., she went on to announce that "I only give bare bottom spankings" I am sorry that I cannot recall her exact quotation here, but much to my regret later on I only paid about half attention, just figuring in my own juvenile and obviously incorrect mind that she was just angry and blowing off steam. Well, I didn't have to wait too long to find out exactly how wrong I was !

The next day I was out playing in the yard by myself just having a great time climbing on the propane tank and sliding down the side of it when my aunt Ginny asked me to come into the house. It was all so light hearted that I simply replied OK and continued to play on the propane tank, forgetting to go in the house. I think I "forgot" to go into the house for two reasons. One is that by judging from her tome of voice she didn't seem to care that much if I went in or not and secondly, I sort of had the feeling that I was in for an enema that evening and I wanted to postpone that as long as possible because she always put me to bed after my enemas.

Let me explain here a little bit, it was not that I disliked going to bed after my enemas from her, since they were always so large in volume they would always leave me weak (and sometimes even make me vomit) and make me feel tired, but I just felt it was too early in the evening for me to have to deal with such things. Anyway, boy was I wrong!! When she came back out into the yard she caught me about half way on my sliding trip down the propane tank, took me by the wrist and lead/half drug me into the house and announced on the way, "I am taking you in this house right now and you are going to get your bottom warped like you won't believe!"

At this point I knew it was serious. Boy was it ever! We didn't stop at the kitchen for my customary cookies and milk, we didn't stop in the living room for me to watch my customary Mickey Mouse Club. Things were going a lot different today! She hauled me right into the bathroom and told me to "take off every stitch right now" and I also knew I was not even going to get my "customary" enema...at least not right away. Boy, did she have other things in mind! At this point I knew better than to say anything, so I just busied myself quietly taking off all my clothes and folding them and placing them neatly on the shelf as I was always required to do prior to my enemas, so I was familiar with the routine of how to strip for my aunt Ginny.

By the time I had all of my clothes off she had a hairbrush in her hand. It was one of those wooden hairbrushes with the big flat oval back and I recall thinking to myself at the time that when she bought it she must have had other things in mind to do with the hairbrush other than brush her hair. I was right! She closed the toilet seat lid, sat down on it and ordered me to walk to her. As I walked to her I knew now that I was into a walk to my executioner. My legs were turning to jelly, I had a lump in my throat, my stomach had turned upside down and I had butterflies flying below the upturned stomach. I was a total wreck!

She had me lightly by the hand and as I started to climb across her knees she stopped me and directed me to stand between her knees and had me stand there and wait while she pulled her dress up to the very top of her thighs, lead me between her legs and then had me bend over her left knee and took her right leg and clamped it over the back of my thighs, pretty much making me immobile and making my bottom feel very vulnerable. To this day I will never forget that dress. It was a light cotton dress that came to about her knees and had wide straps at the top and had aqua, yellow and gray stripes running lengthwise. After she had me bent well over her knees she told me that I was going to get a "warping like you aren't going to believe" She then went on to tell me that if I put my hands back to try to protect my bottom the spanking would start all over again and she then instructed me to clasp my hands together telling me that this might help me from clasping back. Once all of this was said she reached up on the shelf and grabbed the hairbrush.

I will never forget how quiet the room seemed at that moment and feeling that it would get really loud when she started the spanking. But I was wrong. The first blow of the hairbrush just sounded like a dull "splat" and that first dull splat hurt me so terribly that I was temporarily unable to respond to the pain! By the time the second blow landed however, I let out such a blood curdling scream that I couldn't believe it came from my own throat! This woman who I had always loved as my caring and loving aunt had in less than 10 seconds placed me into a living hell at her own determined hands. I do not remember the details of this terrible spanking, but I do remember me screaming begging and having the quite specific thought run through my mind that I might die. All of this seemed to not deter my aunt in the least, and god did she keep laying it on! By the time she was finished I was almost screamed and cried out and just hung over her knees in a blubbering mass.

I barely remember her standing me up and guiding me into the bathroom corner and her telling me to stand there until she said at the end of the sentence "until I am ready for you again" At this point I remember dropping to my knees and grabbing her hand and begging her, "Oh please aunt Ginny, don't spank me anymore, Oh God please don't, Oh God please don't, I love you so much, I love you, please don't spank me anymore, don't spank me.. please?"

She very calmly responded to this blubbering and begging, "No, I am not going to spank you anymore, but you still need your enema this evening, so you go ahead and stand in the corner and think about your spanking and how you are going to behave in the future while I get your enema ready, OK? At this point an enema was the best offer I had had all evening, so I just eagerly shook my head "yes," and went to the corner.

I was standing facing the corner, but could hear the sounds of my enema being prepared. From all of the previous enemas I had received at the hands of my aunt Ginny I could pretty much figure out what was going on. I could hear her reaching up into the bathroom closet and taking down the big blue "pumpkin" bag that held 3.5 qt. and hear her running the water into the sink until it was really hot and then hear her even pick up the bar of Ivory soap and swish it in the sink. I could hear her picking up the pitcher and dipping it in the sink and hear the familiar sound of hot soapy water filling the enema bag. The next sound I heard was as she hung the enema bag from the towel rack.

"OK, your enema's ready, get over here and get over the edge of the tub." I turned and walked from the corner very gently because even at this short period of time after my spanking I could feel that my bottom cheeks were already swollen and walking was somewhat painful. However, I made my way to the edge of the bathtub and assumed my, by now very familiar, position bending over the edge of the bathtub, face almost straight down in the tub and my bottom stuck well up into the air to receive my impending enema.

When my aunt Ginny started to work on me with the enema, I could tell she was disgusted with me. All the other times she would go to great length to make sure I got my enemas just the way she wanted. That is to say, she would constantly coach me on how she wanted my bottom presented, tell me to pant like a puppy when cramps set in, etc.. This time she simply put a large glob of KY on her finger and ran it up my rectum as far as she could reach and no longer had she pulled her finger out than she ran that big black curved douche nozzle right up into my rectum without hesitation. I was a little upset by this rough treatment and sort of missed her gentle fashion with the enemas, which I had learned to lovingly accept over the years. Even though she always insisted on giving me hot soapy large volume enemas, her technique was always so gentle I could always endure it. Her rough treatment of my fanny this time caused me to wonder and my wonder changed to certainty when I looked over my shoulder and saw that she had another half pitcher of hot soapy enema water waiting at the ready.

"What's that other pitcher of water for?" I asked, already half -way knowing the answer. "I am going to put you through a bag refilling tonight!" she exclaimed. "My mother always had me lay on my back with my knees drawn up to my chest in the bathtub when she gave me enemas and I had to lay on my back and watch the bag empty and then watch her refill the bag. She took me from bulb to bag when I was only 4 years old. I always thought I was treated too harshly by her and that is why you never got the large volume bag enema until you were five years old. Now I am wondering if I didn't make a mistake. You are now six years old young man and I can tell you right now you are going to start getting at least one enema a week that involves a bag refilling." In my present position, with a large black douche nozzle placed up my rear and a spare pitcher of enema water at my aunt's side, I didn't feel like I was in much of a position to debate the issue (either literally or figuratively) so I just said OK.

No sooner had I answered than I heard the click of the shut-off clamp and felt the hot soapy water begin to course its way up my bowels. The enema was very hot and very soapy and she never slowed the flow even when I began to complain about cramps. Every previous enema I had received from her, she would always quickly stop the flow and say "pant like a puppy" and try to help me through the ordeal of the enema, but this time, no! She simply said, "You'd better handle it, you have another bag to take!" So....I did. I heard her lock the shut-off clamp, looked over my shoulder and saw the limp enema bag hanging to my side on the towel rack. I then saw my aunt reach to the other side of me, grab the pitcher with another quart of hot soapy enema water in it and pour it into the enema bag. The next sound I heard was the click of the shut-off valve being reopened and I felt more hot soapy water begin to fill my bowels.

That was when I really began to panic, cramp, and I started to beg..."Oh Lord aunt Ginny, please stop, no more please, I'll be good, I love you, I love you, I can't take anymore please, I'm so full. I'm so full, please stop!" And she finally did, but only when the bag was empty. I looked to my side and saw the now limp enema bag hanging from the towel rack. My panic was only starting to partially subside because I thought she was going to make me hold the enema for the traditionally required ten minutes, but tonight I was finally to get some mercy from my aunt Ginny.

She immediately withdrew the large douche nozzle from my rectum and told me, "Go ahead and get rid of your enema and we will talk after you are finished." I immediately climbed up from my position over the bathtub, went to the toilet and had the most pleasurable sensation I had had all evening releasing my enema water. In the meantime, my aunt stayed in the bathroom and washed the enema equipment and then drew me a hot bath. When I was finished getting rid of my enema my aunt Ginny put me in the bathtub and she washed me herself and I let her and didn't protest in the slightest even though she had not bathed me in about a year.

After my bath she took me to my bedroom and sat on the bed next to me and began to talk. "Listen, I love you very very much and I would do anything in the world for you. But, I will not tolerate the way you behaved this evening. If you wanted to stay out later this evening you could have done that. All you had to do was come up to me when I called you in and told me that you would like to stay out a little longer and play because you knew you had to have an enema this evening and wanted to take it later. That would have been OK. What you did instead was ignore my request. That is not only misbehavior, it is a rude way to treat other people to not acknowledge their requests, and that is why you were punished tonight, do you understand?"

By now I again had tears welling up in my eyes and in a very choked voice I said "Yes aunt Ginny" and I put my arms around her waist and hugged her for all I was worth and she stroked my hair back and kissed me gently on the forehead. She tucked me in bed and after she was done with that and had left the room I immediately turned on my stomach, off my sore bottom, and enjoyed a great nights sleep. The next morning, all was forgotten...with the exception of the valuable lesson I had learned the previous evening, which was never forgotten.