Was your mother a hanger, holder, or squeezer?

A hanger. At least three, maybe four ft. above. I have recalled my story on here. It seemed like a lot of pressure and it probably was.

Mine was a holder. She always gave the bag a squeeze before she stopped the flow!

She was a hanger. and guess what? so am i. she was also a big, red, open-topper. so am i. she was also a big black douche nozzler. guess what? i think we were all mprinted at an early age

Mom was a hanger. She used one hand to hold the enema nozzle in place (always inserted to the hilt) and the other hand worked the clamp. She took her role as the family enema-giver seriously and always gave a good, thorough enema.

Mom was a holder. Near the end of the enema she always raised the bag to her highest reach to get every drop in.

My mother thought enemas were unpleasant and should be gotten over with as quickly as possible for me. She held the open top bag very high to make the water shoot in fast.

The cramps were awful. She didn't drain the air out of the hose, either--more cramps. Her technique was terrible, but she wasn't trying to make it painful. She just didn't know any better.

Mine was a squeezer. I loved many bulb fills.

My Mom was a hanger. She hung the bag somewhere over the toilet but I don't remember exactly where. I seem to recall that it wasn't hung very high so I guess it might have been hung from a towel bar on the wall.

My mother would insert the nozzle and then hold the nozzle in place to make sure it didn't slip out while my dad held the bag.

Hanger. The red bubber bag always hung on the bathroom door knob while I laid on a soft towel on the floor.

My mom was a squeezer (douche bulb), and a hanger for the bigger rinse after the soapy water.

was eliminated. since most of the time they were for punishment, they weren't always comfortable even though they were always given on my bed. they didn't have the desired effect, and i almost always got turned on by them.

My Mom was first a squeezer and later a hanger. When I was less than 8, Mom would use a small red enema bulb on me squeezing small amounts of water and mostly air into my rectum. However, when I got in upper elementary she switched from the little red bulb to her Rexall Victoria Combination bottle. I liked that a whole lot better. Gravity took over and she learned to let the air out of the hose before injecting me with that lushous warm, soapy, salty water. I only knew her squeezing that bottle just once when I was so plugged up that the water in the bottle did not flow. Mom was such a good mother.

When my mom used the bag it was hung up. When I was young it was hung on a towel rod behind the toilet while I laid across her lap. As I got older I would be on the floor and she would hang it from a different towel rod or the doorknob.

Mine was a holder and a squeezer. I guess that she liked to be in control.

Mom, hung a metal coat hanger on the shower curtain rod and them her amber folding bag onto it, of couse there was away a occasional streams of Ivory bubbles that would stream down the side.

Squeezer old red bulb when i started school enemas stopped after 3rd grade

My mother was a holder, but I caught her hanging one for herself one day when I was about 6.

When i was younger it was a squeeze bulb, as i got older it was a light blue latex bag hung the same way as bagfull41 described with a folded up metal coat hanger from the shower rod. used the standard small enema pipe. along this time is where I started to really like enemas a lot and was so afraid of getting an erection but thankfully never did. The memory is still vivid though, she would tell me that i needed to have an enema, just that statement made me get tingly, then hearing her gather the equipment and mixing the solution which i think was water and baking and telling me to take off my clothes and come to the bathroom.

My mom was a holder. I have vivid memories of her holding that red enema bag in one hand and the black nozzle in the other. It may be the most significant memory I have of her. I was usually in the cold tub and looked up at her as she prepared to invade my little rosebud with that nozzle. I was quite intimidated by her, with that nozzle at the ready. The subsequent sensations as the enema filled me, were quite intense at times. If the enema was soapy, I know that I would break into a sweat sometimes. A plain water enema usually wasn't too bad. It's funny how those sensations turned to bliss later on.

The enema bag hanging in the shower, thereafter, was also a vidid and fond memory.

I would say my mother a holder she was strict but gentle at times

Mom..was mixed in her delivery of hot soapy water. She'd lay the Sears combo bag, bulging of course, on the bed, have me get into the knee chest position, lube up the colon tube and then insert. She held the bag up high, opened the clamp and the rush was wonderful, at that point for me. Then she'd lay the bag on my bacvk and let it sloooowly drain into my bottom, raising it up only if it looked like it stalled. Long slow enemas were her thing. This also gave her hands freedom to work that 48" 28FR colon tube in all the way. Never had much cramping. Actually was wonderful experience that I really miss today.

My mom was a squeezer, but not of a bag, a red rubber bulb! Insertion squeeze, after insertion squeeze was the routine. We had a bag but it was never used on me.

This has been a fun read and brought back many memories. My Mom was a hanger (I think). The procedure went something like this: I was called to the bathroom as she was in the final stages of preparation...the swollen bag hung from the medicine cabinet door, Vaseline was applied to the dreaded black tip and then the click of the clamp as air was expelled from the tube and I saw the soapy water bubble into the sink...then the words.."lie down before this gets cold". Next I'm lying on the floor, shorts pulled down and Mom moves the bag to a hook above and behind me next to the tub used to hold back the shower curtain. I feel my cheeks being spread and the black tube being inserted followed by the 'click' that began the flow which, at first, felt really good even at an early age...that is until things got serious and the cramps and discomfort began and I started to wail. Mom had one hand holding the tube in and one on my back holding me down. Therefore I must assume the bag hung on that hook until it was empty and I was full. She was a hanger!

My mom was a hanger. My first enema was at age 8 from a reg combo bag. We had a skylight with a pull chain in the bathroom and the enema bag was hung on the loop of the chain.

Mine was a holder, but she always gave the bag a squeeze before she stopped the flow of the enema.

Mine was a hanger and a squeezer. The bag hung from the shower curtin rod . High up and had a fast flow. Butt she also loved to use the 8oz bulb several times. She loved slideing it in and out of my cute rosebud of a hole.

I only remember enemas from a bag and it was hung from a hook on the wall.

Mine always hung the bag on the towel bar and sat on the tub when giving me my enemas. The mental image (the bloated bag with the end of the hose resting inside the bag and a towel and pillow in the floor) still puts a lump in my throat decades later.

A hanger. From the shower curtain rod.

Mom was a hanger, bag hung from hook on the wall. If she felt the enema wasn't going in fast enough she would raise the bag to the full stretch of the red hose.