Enema satisfaction/excitement -- asking, told or faking for it?

I have recently noticed enema related threads on whether or not enemas had been asked for, mom's who were believers in the restorative powers of 'a good enema' and about faking blah or constipation in order to get mom to administer an enema.

I wonder if any of the three provided more satisfaction, excitement, comfort, pleasure, whatever, than the others?

I found when mom told me I was getting an enema, her idea, not mine, was most satisfying. Then, if I felt the need and set up something for her to ask me a question I'd sort of reluctantly answer in a way that was most likely to have her decide to give me an enema satisfying for sure, but not quite as nice as when she decided unprompted and told me she was going to give me an enema.

Oh, the things I think of on a Thursday morning when I should be getting the wash into the dryer, lol

In hindsight, the most impactful enemas were when mom ordered me to get my clothes off and to lay down in the tub as she prepared my enema. My heart rate skyrocketed and my sense of dread was practically overwhelming. When the nozzle was inserted and the solution flowed, it was all I could do to accept the sudden internal pressure. If there was anything positive, it was the involuntary reaction that brought my genitalia to attention and began dripping some slippery fluid that allowed my body to slide against the hard cold tub. When the flow was stopped, the release was a total relaxation as I was allowed on the toilet. When finished, there was a total sense of relief. I hadn't asked for this treatment, and usually resisted it, but the aftermath was quite blissful. When in the hospital and being attended to by some cute inquisitive nurses, I did fake some discomfort when asked about my BM's. Back in those days, an enema was the most expedient solution.

I suppose there were mixed feelings at that young age when told that I was going to get an enema. I was given bulb enemas in the years before I turned 6 years old by my mother because I was prone to constipation due to a medication i needed for anemia. So in retrospect, I do not ever think I asked for one. As I remember the enemas were given very gently and lovingly over her knees and then later with me over the edge of the bathtub as my mom filled the bulb with soapy warm water from the sink slowly inserted the small black syringe and squeezed the bulb. The feel of that warm soapy water was a good thing! The enemas were all lovingly given and as I remember vividly, the results of the enemas were “Instant” relief from constipation. The memory of those enemas were reawakened when I turned 11 years old and found that bulb syringe in the bathroom. Then it was “enema games on!”

@LindaB said,

I found when mom told me I was getting an enema, her idea, not mine, was most satisfying.

That’s something I hadn’t thought about in a number of years. Mom, grandma, and our aunts gave us enemas when needed for constipation, among other things. My siblings and I were anal erotic from an early age and enemas helped satisfy that itch. We pretty much knew when and why mom would give us enemas. Generally speaking, my siblings and I never got an enema we didn’t like. The one exception was grandma’s 3H enemas she gave us during summer vacation every year. They weren’t any fun and were tough to take and hold. However, on the other end of the spectrum, were mom and her sisters, out of the blue enemas. With mom, they usually happened on a rainy day when it was quiet for no apparent reason. I don’t know what it was about them, but I got more pleasurable feelings from those enemas than any others I received. And from what I saw and heard from my siblings; they felt the same way.

During summer vacation, we spent a lot of time at grandmas. Like mom, both grandma and her younger daughters gave us enemas when needed. Mom's sisters, being much closer in age to us, made it easy to pick up their intentions. Simply put, they enjoyed giving us and themselves enemas. Unlike mom, who hated getting an enema for any reason, made it difficult to figure out why she gave us enemas out of the blue. Grandma, having taught both girls how to administer enemas as preteens, gave them the job of doing our evening bath along with enemas and the occasionally spanking. They picked up really quick, that we enjoyed enemas, especially when we were lay naked across their bare lap. So, whenever they could, they included us, because they enjoyed giving us and themselves enemas. So, like mom, they gave us enemas that were unexpected an out of the blue. Something my siblings and I didn’t mind, because by doing so, it helped scratch more than one itch.

Grandma was the only one who asked, if we’d like an enema, but it was when she asked that made the difference. She asked, after given us a bare bottom spanking, or after checking and finding us not constipated. Something that neither mom or her sisters did, they just gave us an enema, wanted or not after a spanking. The strange thing was, enemas after a spanking, were unexpectedly pleasurable. Just like the ones that came out of the blue. Something we totally didn’t understand. Our question was, “Why would an enema out of the blue be just as pleasurable as an enema after a spanking.” Something we didn’t understand until many years later.

The only enema I ever received from my mom was at the age of 9. I had been thinking about enemas for about 2 - 3 years after walking in on my 1 year younger female cousin laying on the couch about to get an enema from her mom. Although I did not get to see her get her enema (I was "shooed" off) it left a strong impression on me. So one night when returning home with mom I blurted our "mom, can I have an enema". So we drove up to the corner drug store and she bought a 4 oz bulb enema and gave me one when we got home. To this day I fantasize about asking my mom for an enema.

My grandma was the enema queen in our home, and she usually knew when an enema was neccessary. When I began to find enemas attractive yet nervous about giving up control I would sometimes hint at the need for an enema by complaining of a stomach ache or intentionally acting out of sorts, but though I was experimenting with setting up situations for an enema I still seemed nervous about giving up control. Enemas from grandma included 3 enemas, and they could be a lengthy ordeal. At the age of 11 onward I was given fully nude enemas either bent over the edge of the tub or on grandmas bed in the knee-chest position with the 3 qt bag hung from a coat rack. I found them erotic yet uncomfortable. Grandma never realized how hooked I was on enemas until I came home for summer break in my sophomore year. I’m not sure how she realized it, but from that point on she still offered and gave me enemas, but I seemed to take them better finding the erotic side more powerful. I somehow know that she knew.

Always excitement when I realize I have won the game of getting an enema. the first time was when I was home sick from school and was really constipated. Mom suggested a laxative and I sad no, they take too long to work and upset my stomach, she then said a suppository. Both would require a trip to the store. Then I said "how about an enema?" I knew we had a enema bag since I helped unpack it when we moved into the new house. She said "an enema would work right away, and I can get one ready after breakfast." Wow, I was going to get my first bag enema from mom! I was elated and sat on the couch in anticipation of being called into the bathroom. I had had a large volume enema in the hospital before surgery, and had tried one on my own after a 'how to article in a medical encyclopedia', but this was going to be a whole new experience!

I still can feel the anticipation, thinking this is actually going to happen. Then the call came, "can you come in here now". My mom was at the sink with a large bowl swishing a bar of ivory in warm water. She had me hold the bag while she filled it. She was using this experience to try and show me how to give myself an enema. She carefully explained how it worked and what nozzle to use. Also, to use lots of Vaseline. She then said " You can give this to yourself or I can give it to you." Of course my answer was I want you to give it to me. " Ok, lay down with your pants off and put your bum up." I said "don't you have to hang the it up,?" She said "only if you are giving it to yourself." I asked "does the water have to be soapy?" She said "That's what makes you go." she rested the bag against my bum which was very stimulating, then inserted the enema and held the bag up. The rectal tube popped out and she re-inserted it. Then she suddenly said "I think that's enough". It wasn't and I asked for another, which she readily gave me. This time it was the whole bag, and upon exiting said "just sit there for awhile, it will work."

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I'm kinda like you Novnot01a. When I was a young kid,like many others,I had no say in the matter.But as I got older,I liked that it was my idea if I was going to have an enema.So I would feign constipation during my many hospital visits so I could score an enema or at least a suppository. To me that is much more of a turn on than the more common situation where the nurse shows up at your bedside with a Fleet (aptly named) asks you to lie on your side and the whole damn thing is over in 3 minutes. Better than not getting one but when I set it up & the giver agrees I have MORE time to get worked up so by the time it happens I'm just about ready to erupt.Does that make sense?

Interesting question. For me I think being told was the most exciting. Particularly if it was a surprise announcement. Outwardly I might be protesting but I knew my protests were in vain. Go to my bedroom, remove everything, report to the bathroom naked and get into position. The nozzle was waiting, best not to make mom wait too long or she might go get the paddle.

Dread was the best word to describe my feelings about enemas when I was growing up even though I knew I'd be given a daily hot soapsuds enema whenever I was home sick from school (with the family doctor's approval). I hated getting enemas and struggled against them when I was younger but finally grew to accept them as inevitable and stopped fighting and struggling when I was about 10 years old just to get the unpleasant experience over with.