My wife (may have) wanted to break me of my enema fetish. so, every nite, for about a year, she'd have me ready for bed, then leave the room. the first few weeks of hearing the water running, the cupboard door slamming, the sound of the bag being filled, the anticipation was exquisite.
The next few weeks, it was just one of those things. A few weeks later, the anticipation was increasingly stressful. A strong, soapy enema, on a schedule, every night was not as much fun as I would have expected. She didn't tell me what she was going to be doing, when she started this thing. Eventually, I knew that I would be purged, but get no sex or any other attention. Anticipation, that used to be so exquisite, was now working against me. Using aversion therapy, she had successfully gotten me to stop enjoying receiving, or even thinking about enemas.
A couple of decades have passed, and I'm beginning to enjoy enemas again, but I don't say anything to her about it.
If I'm constipated, and let her know, sometimes she'll give me suppositories, or, more likely, a bisacodyl enema. It's just business, unless she makes it be a fun instance. She does that sometimes.