Begging and Pleading with an Enema Giver

As I have previously explained, enemas were not part of my family healthcare routine, so I was not privileged to receive any from my mother, grandmother, aunty, older sister, or close female family friend, like countless others were during their younger years. Therefore, as I have mentioned in my many previous posts, I was introduced to them (they were introduced to me) in a hospital in Rome.

As many have experienced, enema administration in hospital is usually done differently than in a domestic environment. Therefore, in that environment, any begging and pleading from the receiver is usually ignored anyway especially if enemas are mandatory. And as far as I can remember, it was only during my very first hospital enema in my life (4yo) that I vocalised my discomfort with words to the effect that my tummy was hurting or that I was feeling pain in my tummy.

Obviously, at the time, the nurse was aware that the accumulating water was creating pressure in my colon, nevertheless my concern was ignored as she kept on filling me up until the measured dose of water was dispensed. I do not know how much water she gave me on that occasion, but based on the other enema experiences in that same hospital during the early 1970s, as well as my modest knowledge ‘enema-ology’ I assume that the dose was only about 250ml.

Anyway, in that time and place, any begging and/or crying on my part or from any of the other recipient boys in the same enema session group would have made no difference. If we did, we would most likely have been regarded as wimps, and it would certainly have aggravated those already annoyed nurses and thus made the situation worse.

As it was, we were all destined to receive the mandatory non-negotiable standard pre-op prep enema. And as far as I can remember, besides that first time, I never vocalise anything during my subsequent hospital enemas, and neither did I hear any of the other boys with me say a word. We were all expected to be strong composed obedient submissive compliant boys and swiftly bare our bum (anus) to those waiting nurses and allow them to give us an enema each and every time.

As a child, I didn’t have to do much begging and pleading with mom about her giving me an enema, because I actually liked them. The only argument I gave her was most often about the timing of it. Do we have to do it now? Can’t we wait until this tv program is over?

After I got married I tried to get my husband into enemas for fun. He didn’t get enemas growing up like I did so was not initially interested in “enemas for fun”. It took a bit of begging on my part to get him to give me an enema even though he saw that I enjoyed it. He didn’t like that after he gave me the enema I would sometimes have to run to the toilet before we had sex. Multiple times I sweetly asked (begged) him to let me give him an enema, hoping he would decide it isn’t as bad as he thinks it would be. He would politely decline my request. Then one evening, after he had given me an enema, I refilled the bag and informed him that “if you want to fuck tonight, you are getting an enema.” How does the old saying go? If you have the pussy you get to make the rules. Anyway, I managed to get a few into him for a while but he just didn’t enjoy them like I do so eventually I didn’t make him take them anymore.

@Cheryl77177 . He is lucky you didn't divorce him. LOL

You sound like such a fun trip @Cheryl77177.

@Cheryl77177 Well at least he finally realized what a lucky guy he is! Wish I was that lucky!

I was in hospial many years go , when i heard a man , maybe 3 or 4 beds away getting an enema, he was pleading with the nurse who was giving the enema ,saying he couldnt take any more , then two nurses walked past my bed, when one said to the other, oh that poor man, such a big enema . never did know what happened or how big an enema he was getting , shame i never got one thogh.

Growing up when told that mom wanted to give me an enema my reply was usually, "but I don't want an enema." Her reply usually was, "You really need one, so go to your room and I'll call you when it's ready." My reply was usually, "OK, but not too much." It really didn't matter because when I got called to the bathroom there was the enema bag hanging from the wall and it looked like it was bulging. I would be told to lie over mom's knees and the nozzle inserted. Most of the time I'd protest about it hurting, but mom would just say, "No it doesn't so just relax." A moment later she'd start the flow and within a minute I'd protest, "That's enough!" She'd rub my back and tell me to take deep breaths. As usual I got as much enema as she intended for me to have. That scene got played plenty of times, too.

Don;t really even recall thinking to start complaining due to the fact that my mother did not care a wit about my attitude & she would not hesitate to put the whoop ass on me immediately. What a weird combination of things going in my head , painfull enema , the red bag being help over me . mom in nightgown sometimes , penetration of the nozzle/

No wonder my brain imprinted on this crazy experiemce that played out quite a bit up until about 14.

Deciding to act up when about to get an enema was never a good idea. A naked butt was too inviting a target.

I'd love to overhear someone begging and pleading to get out of an enema, then hear them reluctantly giving in and the sounds of them receiving it.

When I am on the receiving end I will be vocal if I am getting a huge cramp or feel like I am going to burst. This usually puts a smile onto the face of the woman administering. Since I love enemas in the context of BDSM , begging and pleading makes sense.

When I am the administrator, I love to hear the moans and pleading to stop. I have introduced many women to enemas for their 1st time and the pleading normally starts when I pull out the bag and tell them to strip.

I remember occasions when I was as pre-teen that my mom would call me into the bathroom and she made me kneel on the floor bent over the edge of the tub. She had cut a sliver of soap off a bar and had wet it thoroughly, a ‘soap stick’ like a suppository. As she pushed it into my rectum it would burn and sting so bad that I would plead and beg to be given a soapy enema instead. I had been given a few enemas and also received the soap sticks a few times that I knew I’d rather have the enema.

My childhood was in the '60s and there definitely was an always-wet enema in our house. Back then everyone that was admitted to the hospital came home with a plastic enema can and tubing. So we had one of those cans from our local hospital and Mom used it on all three of us kids. Older sister, older brother, I was the baby of the family and I only can remember one of Mom's enemas when I was about 4 and home sick. It was that plastic enema can and clear tubing with the rounded end as an entry implement. I did NOT say anything, just laid on the floor on my side and felt the tube slide in and water fill me. I was panting like a puppy when the water finally ended and the tube was removed. I was put on the toilet to finish. No complaining, no whining, nothing. I think by that age I was just used to getting enemas but that one was all I can remember.

My Mom always said that I was the only kid that didn't scream and yell during enemas. My brother and sister I guess did all the screaming to "take it out, take it out!" and "I'm full I can't hold anymore PLEASE stop!".

Now that I like enemas I'd never plead with anyone to stop, but when I play with other guys in a play medical scene I've had guys beg to stop the enema. Just like Mom, I never did stop anything. You'll get the full 2 quarts no matter what.