Was mom a bag holder, hanger, or squeezer?

Out of the many enemas I was administered mom would hang the amber latex folding syringe then when about a third was in hold it and twist the open top closed and squeeze the rest of the bag in. How about you ?

Over the years of my misspent youth, my Mom used both the amber folding syringe and the good old red hot water bottle style bag. Both she hung from either a clothes hook on the back of the bathroom door, or sometimes from the door knob, depending on whether I was laying on my back, or on my knees.

When growing up there was a hook on the wall right next to the bathtub. I suspect that its intended use was for hanging a robe or a towel, but it was also perfect for hanging the enema bag. When the bathroom door was open you could not see the bag, but I know that numerous times I'd get called to the bathroom, the door would then be closed and that full bag staring me in the face.

She was a hanger. The medicine cabinet over the sink had a latch on it and she hung the combination bag from it. too high I later figured out but she used the same location when he gave herself enemas so she did not know any better. The water would really rush into my clogged rectum but it also really made me feel the water pressing against my prostate.

So far as I know, a hanger entirely.

She wanted it to hang freely

Mom was always a holder as far as I can remember. If grandmother was around she would hold the bag.

My mom was strictly a hanger. She used an amber, translucent folding syringe that was hung from the shower curtain rod. I remember the image of it hanging there and slowly deflating while I lay on my left side in the tub with the tip embedded in me. The bag was hung way too high, resulting in very high flow rates and pressure. Needless to say, my mom's enemas were challenging to take.

Mom was a hanger and a holder, in that order, if the enema was being given in the bathroom, which most were. After she had the enema bag ready she would hang it, and put Vaseline on the black nozzle. Lots of it spread evenly with her index finger she'd dip into the jar. Then, if she'd not already cleared any possible air out of the hose she'd open the clamp, squirt into the sink, and then clip off. I remember so clearly that milky enema coming out the end of that black pipe and being aware next time it did it would be coming up into my bottom, not into the sink. I'd be told, if I hadn't already, to remove my PJ bottoms, or slide my pants and underpants down and off, or take off my robe, and get into position. She'd be standing there holding the enema hose in her right hand between her thumb and index finger just below the nozzle which was pointing up. It was a sight that struck both excitement and a little fear into me. (When I'd be stripped off for a spanking and I'd see her with the brush or strap I'd also feel some excitement, and far more fear of that than the enema though it too would make my knees weak and my voice squeak if I had to answer a question like, "Are you ready for mommy to give you an enema now?") Back to hold or hang. The bag would stay hanging while the nozzle was inserted and when all was ready sometimes she'd open the clamp and leave the bag hanging for awhile before taking it down to adjust height and pressure, and sometimes she'd lift it off before opening the clamp.

My Mom was a hanger she always used the family's red enema bag, it was a open top type fountain syringe there was a hook next to the toilet bowl about 2 or 3 feet above the toilet tank. This is where she would fill up and hang there. When it was all ready she would sit down on the closed toilet seat with a towel draped over her lap. Which I would lie over her knees face down. Spent a lot of counting the floor tiles. I don't remember her using any vasoline I think she just used soap to get the nozzle ready to insert. I do know that she used a lot of soap because it cause a lot of bad cramping in my belly that is what I hated about it was the pain I went through twice a week. The soap burned going in as much as it did coming out. I was always happy to get a rinse out to get all that burning soap out. At first all my enemas were over her knee until I got about 10 yrs and older then I got them bending over the rim of the bathtub.

My grandmother was the one to administer the enemas, although mom was also there in the bathroom. Why Grandma and not mom? Because Grandma was taller, so she could hold the bag higher !

She never hung the red bag she just held it high over her head. It was very soapy and As Kid attested just before me, stung going in and coming out. The entire bag empied non stop.

I think the hook on the wall was just for storage.

Mom was a hanger. Enemas were always administered in the bathroom and the bag was hung on a chrome robe hook on the wall next to the toilet. Our family fountain syringe had a large shoelace looped at the bottom with several knots at different lengths that determined the height of the bag. Depending on our age, mom positioned us either laying over the closed toilet seat, kneeling over the side of the bathtub, or laying on the floor. Many enemas, and many memories of her telling me the benefits of a good enema while she held that nozzle in place and filled me to the hilt.

She was an hangers, I still see at hers home the hook in the bathroom door were the bag was fixed.

A holder ….not a bag but a douche can.

When I was quite young my aunt would hold the enema bag while my mom held the nozzle in me and she controlled the clamp. If my dad were home, he held the enema bag. When I was a little bigger, she hung the enema bag on a floor lamp which she moved closer to my bed. I always got enemas on my bed

Apparently when she took her own enemas, or engaged in enema play with my father, she was a strict hanger. who never touched the bag itself while she was in position, or while my father was.

Any enemas she gave me, I was so young that the bulb was the only real option!

Always hung bag on towel bar. When it was my sisters turn she would squeeze the bag when sis complained to get it over with faster.

Mainly a hanger. Rarely she would squeeze the bag other than to get the last few ounces in before removing the nozzle. Sometimes she would do the “roller coaster” or “tidal wave” as she called it. She would raise n lower the bag to get the last few ounces in if it was going in slow.

It all depended who or if anyone was there. If not the bag was hung from her iv pole or the shower rod with a hanger on it. If we had company it was held by who ever was there.

Usually a hanger, but if the flow slowed way down or stopped then it became a squeezing the bag enema…huge surge that way.

It all depended . I have seen her both hold the enema bag and then as the enema progressed , hang the bag on some suitable support while she attended to the hose , pipe and flow for a very successful enema .

My mom was a hanger. I fussed about getting them and once she squeezed the closed-top bag. The high pressure ended my complaining.

Always a squeezer! Why? ‘cause mom never introduced me to “the bag”. Her equipment of choice, for me, was the bulb…I don’t think I ever got a shot in the butt from mom after about age ten….and it took me quite a while to develop my taste for anal eroticism in any form…But for mom, it seems that the choice was not a bag but the white enamel 2 quart bucket…white hose and standard adult enema and douche nozzles. How (and why) do we remember all this s……..??!!?? Maybe more significantly, why are we willing to share so easily with others? Ain't life great?

Our enemas were always hung from the towel rack in the bathroom, and the family members that gave them (mom, aunt/uncle, grandmother ) would occasionally squeeze - this was more likely if you were not cooperative with the process. We grew up with the understanding that to be effective the enema needed to at least be uncomfortable if not hurt a little

My mom had gone through a three-stage development; together with me...

First she squeezed the bulbs, then the bag was hung up, which was also held and lifted during educational treatments, to give pressure and enema fluctuations.

Since we didn't have any rubber hot water bottles for enema purposes, thank God I was spared from bag pressure. The hydrostatic handling also gave me enough trouble...

Mom was an RN. Very, very few enemas given, but always a hanger of her yellow amber latex bag.

Eric

Mom would hang the pink Faultless bag on a hook that had been installed for that purpose. It would hang right by the toilet as that’s where I would be seated for my enemas.

@Kid

You wrote:

„… I do know that she used a lot of soap because it cause a lot of bad cramping in my belly that is what I hated about it was the pain I went through twice a week. The soap burned going in as much as it did coming out. I was always happy to get a rinse out to get all that burning soap out.…“

...with your words I re-experience exactly my feelings and feelings from my childhood “enema career”.

I also felt the soap when it took control of my colon, the cramps, the burning sensation when emptying...

I hated enemas, but I couldn't wait for the two big rinsing enemas with clear water afterwards...

Usually the enema bag was hung from a towel bar in the tub, on rare occasions she or someone else held the bag. The hanging red bag was always in my field of view as it jiggled and sloshed about while delivering its soapy contents.

Hung from a light on the ceiling, too much pressure

My mother didn't squeeze the bag but I realized she used a measuring cup to properly fill the bag. Once I started sneeking enemas realized she didn't fill it all the way. When I filled it, was scary looking, but that was many years ago, was way back then. Back then believe it was a quart.