@ericmacson
As I mentioned, I don’t give or take serious enema punishments. But if a woman like my switch Domme ex wanted to put me through a very large, very long held “forced” enema mixed with forcing compliance with all my other kinks plus a bit of a very soapy plus glycerin enema, I’d be very pleased to interact with her and the enema the whole time making sure she knew how difficult it was. Especially enduring the long edging, belly massages, orgasm denial and prolonged upright belly distention display with exercise. With a very pumped up latex DBC.
@toshe63 just below inspired me to add on an inflated gag (closest to double-plugged, or add a Foley) plus a treadmill walk (EXCELLENT DBC!!!!). Been dreaming that one for years.
Eric
That sounds both rough and heavenly. Because of my masochistic side and my fetish for being overpowered and made to feel embarrassed (not humiliated, but awkward) this seems like a perfect combo. Most of my enema play has been solo, or only shared with online friends, and it’s been a really long time since I have been given an enema in real life by someone other than a healthcare provider of some sorts (long story short, I have something called Lynch syndrome and have to get poked and scoped much more frequently than I would have ever wanted to be, but that’s a tale for a rainy day). I have excellent providers, but they are professionals and do what they have to do as respectfully as possible -anything that I have to do for medical reasons feels like a punishment in a way but I’ve learned how to take it.
I would be so excited to have a partner like I used to who really enjoyed pushing my boundaries firmly but lovingly and he was the one who taught me how to take up to 5 quarts of very soapy, minty, hot solutions, maybe with some glycerin for good measure. It did hurt but he kept saying how it would be worth it in the end: see, the punishment was not for some form of “disobedience“ but rather because I had a massive attitude once I was diagnosed with Lynch, for example, and was really crippled by anxiety and anger. So he helped me “train“ to handle the stuff that he knew I would more than likely have to come to terms with with doctors (and we were both into enemas and discipline and power exchange dynamics anyway).
He used to give me these series of enemas (sometimes preceded by oral laxatives or suppositories -magic bullets, no less 🤣) and would clean me out as well as possible, almost colonoscopy prep style, as the laxatives or the magic bullets started to kick in. He would be very encouraging and loving, rubbing my belly or my back, helping me find the most comfortable positions, but never losing track of the task at hand: making me accept what was being done to me and calming me down. He had medical training and so do I and he never did anything unsafe, and if I really could not deal with what was being done and used our safe word, he gave me a little break, maybe teased my body in fun way, allowed for shorter retention time for that one enema, massaged my boobs etc. If I still felt I could not take it anymore, after making sure that it was what I really wanted, he would let me expel and give me a long warm rinse and help me get that out, too, with more belly massages or even toys, a couple of fingers well lubed up or sex.
I don’t know if I could call his enemas punishment ones, but they did correct my attitude and have helped me accept the procedures that have been a recurring theme in my life (and still are). This approach reminded me of gradual exposure techniques in therapy and it’s very similar for the management of anxiety when exposed to a trigger.
I remember times when I was almost screaming from the difficulty of doing what I had been told -more than the pain, it was my body tensing up and it would just not tolerate any extra drop of solution, nor allow a colon tube to be pushed as deep as it was supposed to go. The frustration was very hard and he still kept going (occasionally he would plug me up for a while but would restart filling me up until the bag was empty), just much slower. if I really fought him, he would add a melted magic bullet! Boy, did it work. He even brought me to tears a few times but it was helful for me to talk about my anxiety, fears and dreading being around doctors or being sick.
Those were punishments but also very important learning experiences and they have helped me immensely over the years that followed and still do to this day and I am so grateful that I had someone who truly cared about me like he did (sadly he passed away a few years ago).