During my childhood, I anxiously awaited the summer, when my siblings, my cousins, and I would visit my grandparents at their beach house in Long Island. They had retired in a tiny fishing village that, in the summer, was often populated by tourists but still had a small town feeling. The house was right on a quiet beach where us kids could swim, kayak, fish, play in the sand, and clam. My grandmother also had a garden which she worked. About a mile down the road was the town, with shops, a clam bar, and the dock. It was a paradise, and I thoroughly enjoyed every summer I was there. My grandfather was often gone on fishing trips or just talking with the men downtown - he was a devoted fisherman. So my grandmother was in charge of us children, and she took her responsibility seriously. She had an many as 16 children there some summers, and she ruled with a firm hand. Her punishment methods included suppositories and enemas, which were new to all of us. During the school year, we were either spanked or grounded when we had done something wrong. Our mothers had left behind the punishment enemas of their childhood and chose not to use them on us. My grandmother, however, felt that it was the most effective way to control our behavior. Misbehavior included talking back, directly disobeying my grandmother, hitting or fighting, and general disrespect.

For "minor" punishment, my grandmother donned a finger cot and inserted up to three glycerin suppositories into our rectums, which had to be held for up to an hour in some instances, often standing in a corner, nose to the wall, as we squirmed and whined, cramping with the urge to go potty.

Punishment enemas were done behind closed doors, so we never got a glimpse of each other being punished. However, an older cousin often did. When my boy cousins got older, they often stayed at home or got a job instead of spending the summer at grandma's. However, an older girl cousin often went along to supervise all of us, and help grandma clean and cook. One summer, Lauren was 16, and was no longer a child - she was given extra responsibilities and delighted in her power. She was pretty, smart, and confident - I looked up to her as my role model. During the first two weeks, I noticed how she became grandma's second hand - telling her everything that we had done and needed to be punished for. I was seven then, and went without being punished for over 10 days. One morning, my three of my older boy cousins and my big brother decided to take a canoe out to find the end of the creek further down the bay. I was a bit of a tomboy and wanted to go along with them. Instead, I was stuck behind and was a bit bored. 2 year old Callie was toddling along holding a pail when I kicked sand in frustration. It went in her direction by accident, and she reached her hand up to shield her face. Lauren came running from her chair on the beach, dressed in just a swimsuit. She immediately went to Callie, who wasn't even crying. In my mind, no harm was done, but Lauren looked at it differently.

"Amy, what have you done?" she asked.

"Nothing…it was just an accident. Please, Lauren, don't tell Grandma." I begged. I knew that I'd be punished if she did.

"I don't have any choice. You shouldn't have thrown sand. It's very serious - sand could have gotten into Callie's eyes and she might have been blinded."

"But she didn't….Lauren, please, please, I'll do anything. Just don't tell. Callie's okay."

But Lauren grasped my hand firmly.

"It's my responsibility. You need to learn from your mistakes."

She put Becca, her thirteen year old sister, in charge of watching the little kids while she was gone. Tears began to form in the corners of my eyes as Lauren walked me to the side door. We stopped so I could wash off my sand-covered feet. Lauren wiped off her sandals on the mat, and we entered into the house. My grandmother was busy chopping vegetables and turned at the sound of the open door.

"Grandma, Amy kicked sand at Callie on the beach. Callie's okay, but I think that Amy needs to be punished."

I wanted to cry, but I held the tears back. My grandmother turned to me.

"Amy, do you know how serious it is to throw sand? You could have hurt your little cousin."

"I know, and I'm sorry. Please, Grandma, I'll never do it again. It was an accident."

"Well, I think you need a little something to help prevent further accidents and remember the rules in this house. I think that a good enema will help you learn a little self-control. I'm very disappointed in you, Amy."

"I'm sorry, Grandma, please don't give me a punishment. I'm sorry!"

"I'm afraid you're going to be a lot more sorrier by the time we get through. Lauren, put on a shirt and take Amy outside to get a shower. I'm going to finish up with these vegetables. I'm going to let you watch - you need to learn to do this sometime or other."

Lauren hurried into her bedroom and came out with a button-down shirt on over her swimsuit. I was horrified that Lauren was going to watch Grandma give me an enema! It wasn't fair! Lauren took me by the hand out to the shower. To my further embarrassment, she left the shower door open. I rinsed off all the sand and then she handed me a worn bar of soap. I carefully scrubbed myself, and turned around in the shower as I rinsed. The fresh water mixed with the salt water on my face and they dripped down until the point when I could taste my own tears. Lauren turned off the water and wrapped me in a clean towel. I dried off and was taken back inside by the hand. My grandmother saw me and motioned for Lauren to follow her to the big bathroom upstairs that we all shared. Upon reaching the bathroom, she took out the large blue enema bag that I knew so well. I believe that it held about 3 ½ quarts, but my grandmother only used 2 quarts on me at that age. I stared numbly at the pitcher she used, and watched as she filled it with cool water. At some point, Lauren was told to go into the bedroom I shared with three of my cousins and get me an undershirt. She handed it to me and I mindlessly put it on. Lauren tugged the towel away from my hands, and put it on the floor of the bathtub. My grandmother put a gooey bar of ivory soap in the pitcher and stirred it with a wooden spoon. Seeing the soap dissolve into the water caused the tears to flow once more. Grandma turned to the cabinet and pulled a blue jar out, and my heart thumped even louder. She got down some vaseline as well, and then went to her linen closet for a pair of latex kitchen gloves.

"Kicking sand is a very bad thing to do, Amy. It's very serious, and I have to add a little something extra to your punishment so you'll be sure to remember it. Get over my lap" I wordlessly obeyed her, and settled myself onto her broad legs. I sobbed as she spread open my cheeks with one hand. After dipping her finger into the jar of vaseline, she put it into my anus and firmly twisted it around. She got a clear suppository from the jar and placed it at my anus, and then pushed it in. She repeated the process with another suppository. I looked up and saw Lauren watching with apparent interest. She told me to stand up again and get into the tub on my hands and knees. I complied, and as I moved, I felt the suppositories start to melt. She and Lauren left the room for what must have been at least 10 minutes. I squirmed and cramped in the tub, knowing that what was to come would be much worse. When they came back, the enema water was poured into the bag, and it inflated like a balloon, heavy with the soapy water inside. My grandmother pushed the adult rectal pipe inside my clenched butt, and hung it above me on the shower controls. I turned my head toward the door and noticed a timer that Lauren had just brought in on the sink. I felt lightheaded in anticipation of the huge enema I was going to get, and tears dripped from my face onto the towel below me. The nozzles presence inside my rectum was making itself well-known, and my grandmother stood over me to make sure I took every drop of the punishment enema. Finally, my grandmother spoke.

"This is for being a bad girl today. You are not to kick or throw sand. I hope you learn something from this."

The enema water started forcefully, and I knew that the bag had been hung quite high. The soapy water mixed with the suppositories and caused immediate cramping. I began to whine and squirm in the tub, begging for the enema to stop, that I was sorry. My tummy felt heavy, and I was bloated. I knew I couldn't take any more enema water, but when I turned my head to check the level of the bag, the bag still looked bloated as well. Panic set in, and I concentrated on keeping my anus clenched around the skim nozzle. Leaking meant more punishment, and most likely the enema repeated until it was taken to her satisfaction. The flow continued, unabated. At last, I heard my salvation - the bag gurgling dry.

"Good girl. You took your enema very well. Get up when you're ready to begin your retention time." A groan escaped from my lips. I was so full, and I wanted to go potty so badly. Retention was the worst part. If my grandmother's solutions weren't so strong or her volumes so big, it would be easier, but retention was long and hard. It was what made you think twice before misbehaving. Since as long as I could remember, enemas were always held for 5 minutes at least. I hoped my time would be short. I got up from the tub slowly and carefully, making sure not to leak. My grandmother took the enema bag off the fixture and disconnected the hose from the nozzle. I walked over to the wall opposite the tub, and I couldn't believe how big my tummy was. It stuck out like I was pregnant, and the pressure was unbelievable. I knew that I wasn't going to be able to hold the enema for a very long time. My grandmother placed a penny between my nose and the wall. I was familiar with this; it prevented us from squirming around too much to get relief from the cramps. I heard the timer being set, and she said, "Ten minutes. I want you to think about what you did."

It was absolutely unbearable. It took all my willpower to keep that penny up against the wall. I stamped my feet on the floor, and groaned with all of my cramps roaring inside of me. I begged my grandmother to let me go potty, but my cries fell on deaf ears. She was busy washing out the enema bag and cleaning everything up and putting away.

Finally, I had made required time. I heard the buzzer sound, and my grandmother came over to me. She put her hand underneath my nose to catch the penny, and said, "You may go potty now." She and Lauren left but didn't close the door. I got on the potty and let go all the water, soap, poop, and suppositories into the toilet. I cramped on the potty for the next half-hour, and then finally cleaned up, flushed, and went back into my room. I put on my panties and laid down in bed, resolving never again to kick sand.