Sights and Sounds of an enema

Oh those smells. Old ivory soap ,the rubber smell. Hmmmmm

Oh those smells. Old ivory soap ,the rubber smell. Hmmmmm

Yes, I'm a rubber fetishist already, so the smell of a warm rubber enema bag adds a very nice touch of ambience to taking an enema. The rubber clothes and sneakers I'm usually wearing during enemas and orgasms help, too.

Eric

It's amazing how the details of those early experiences are burned into our brains. I remember the sight of the bowl of Ivory soapsuds on the bathroom counter and the dreaded bulb syringe sitting beside it. To this day I can still smell the scent of Ivory soap filling the bathroom as I assumed a face down position on towels on the bathroom floor. I knew my fate was sealed when I heard the bubbling sound as my mom filled the syringe and coated the shiny black nozzle with Vaseline. Despite the sound of me begging her not to use the syringe on me, I knew my enema was inevitable. Once she had everything ready, I was getting syringed no matter what. After she squirted the first bulb full of soapy water into me I would hear the bubbling sound of the syringe being refilled. I remember hearing that sound again and again as she continued to syringe me, despite my begging her to stop. I remember hearing a gurgling sound in my belly as the soapy water found its way higher and higher into my bowels. The final sound was the splashing of the water into the toilet as I expelled the enema.

The sights and sounds of those childhood enemas from mom left a lasting impression. The red rubber fountain syringe hanging on the robe hook next to the toilet, bulging with her warm water and ivory soap mixture.....mom lubing the black bat shaped nozzle with Vaseline...the sucking and gurgling sounds of the bulb syringe....mom's quiet voice telling me how good it feels to be cleaned out as I struggle to hold the water.....and so much more.

Sights and sounds were two different things in my household.

My Mother would boil water in saucepan and shave a bar of castile soap into it and watch it melt. The whole house would smell of soap and I knew that my sister was about to be given an enema, and so did she . She would rush to the kitchen to beg not to get one.

The sound was another matter entirely. Mom used a Higginson syringe and when she put the syringe into the soap solution and squeezed it, the gurgling sound it made as the air was expelled from it was special. I also loved seeing and hearing the fluid as it splashed back into the bowl as she pumped.

The bowl she used was enamel and the Higginson syringe had a metal valve at the end opposite the nozzle which made a clanking sound as it hit the inside of the bowl as she pumped.

The sights and sounds of an enema for us was usually after a doctors appointment hearing that a soapy enema was going to be given. Once home if you knew it was for you the listening to the various sounds where over hearing phone calls yes that's right he needs an enema as soon as I hang up. The linen closet door would clang open the pan was filled at the sink and the soap stirred in the measuring cup with the wooden spoon. Next would be the smell of Ivory soap and the sounds of the soapy solution being poured into the bag. Once the kitchen faucet was turned on to top off bag it was a sure thing time was short. If you were lucky the bag was brought into the bathroom and possibly a bit more time but if not the summons to come to the bath room bag in hand and the door closed behind. Next was the order to pull off or down bottoms and lay on floor the jar of Vaseline opened a quick lube and insertion and then the click of the clamp. After that no escape just try to take it and plead for mercy.

I guess I think of sights & sounds differently. I think of the sounds she makes as the nozzle invades her most taboo spot, the moans and whimpering as she fills, sometimes (delightful) groans of pleasure, once in a while some tears, some begging (Please Stop!), and of course later the sounds of emptying…for me as a giver I try to enter her mind and understand what she's experiencing as she submits to my control. I never allow her to empty alone, and always make her watch the prep. While she sits on the toilet I prepare her next enema, and I choose the nozzle while she's looking on and pay close attention to her reactions

When I'm receiving, I love the feelings of her probing me and then slipping the nozzle deep inside (but I'm silent), the “click” that denotes the beginning of my fill, the smell of the lubricant, and any latex, her standing behind me holding the bag high to get the flow going, sometimes her cajoling words as she senses I'm getting really full, the sides of the bag deflating, the warmth of her body near me, the cramps as the fluid enters deep inside, the feeling that comes when I am REALLY full--fluid pressing against my ileocecal valve, signaling that the fluid has fully penetrated my body, and the inevitable sights and sounds on the toilet--and if I'm scheduled for another, the sights & sounds of her preparing the next enema…

The sharp snap of the vintage metal clamp starting the enema flow is a sound I heard coming from the bathroom when my mother was taking enemas before bed. Of all the sounds of an enema, that’s the one that remains most embedded in my mind.

Then the sight of her fountain syringe hanging to dry above the bathtub in the morning. I was curious, but so shy in those days, I never thought that years later, that sound and sight would become part of my life as well.

That distinct sound of the clip/clamp is certainly a dead giveaway in the process. One other sound I am keyed in on, is the clank of the clamp against the tub, shower, or sink. The nozzle had a distinctive clank as well.

If the water has been running and the sound of the bag being filled is also occurring, it's a sure bet that an enema is forthcoming.

Trying hard to avoid these telltale giveaways, was always an aspect when sneakiness was necessary as a kid.

Flushing the toilet to mask an explosive expulsion, was also a part of being sneaky or as a courtesy sometimes.

@Vicki_V The sharp snap of the vintage metal clamp starting the enema flow..

I still have a couple of those metal clips - Oh, once the enema nozzle had been inserted into me, then those moments of waiting till the clip would be popped open.. it would make a little hollow “pop” as the soapy enema solution hit air that had been left in tubing.. there would be a moment or so till I began to feel the inrush of the enema; at that point I knew my fate had been sealed - I was getting an enema and there was no stopping it!

I remember very well sounds, smells and pictures of the preparation of enemas. Typically on Saturday mornings, my parents prepared a pot of chamomile and one of oil. They would come into the room and warn me that they were preparing for my enemas and anxiety rose, it was useless to protest. Two hours later when it had cooled they arrived with enema oil bulb and two-liter chamomile enema enema. I was naked on the bed, temperature measurement, then enema oil bulb that had to climb well up along with the enema. Then they inserted the orange probe and the enema began, see how it emptied and feel the hot chamomile flowing inside and filling up more and more. I protested but everything had to come in you could not stop, they said to breathe with your mouth open slowly and let the enema in.

The sights??

Looking up at the bag, to see how much more is left

Looking at the clock! counting the minutes before I can expel.

I actually try not to look at the hanging bag too long. I allow myself one QUICK look. If I look at it too long it will impact my retention time

Sometimes AFTER I have expelled, and before I re-fill the bag for the second round, I might hold the flattened bag up at eye level and think about what I just did!

Only my sister got enemas in our house and Mum only ever used a Higginson syringe.

The first hint that an enema was to be given was the smell of soap being shaved into a pot of boiling water in the kitchen.

The whole house would smell of soap and when young my sister would run to the kitchen and beg not to be given an enema .

Once cooled mum would place the syringe in the resulting fluid and pump.

The noises from the air being expelled excited me no end.

Mum never closed the bathroom door, so I saw her placing towels across her lap followed soon after by my sister.

My sister stopped begging after she got a bit older and to this day the smell of the soap and the sounds of the pumping are a vivid memory

Considering we lived in a very small apt when I was young, I am amazed that I no recollections of enema sights/sounds involving my older sister taking/getting it. I must have blocked it out. Cannot imagine my older sister not getting enemas, as our mom was into enemas.

Walking into the bathroom as a child and seeing a sink full of soapy water and the enema bag laying next to it.

Normally there is no one around to hear whatever vocalizations or self-talk I may do.

This brings back memories. Asking to meet mom in the bathroom. Walking in and seeing towels on the floor, sink full of soapy water, a jar of Vaseline on the sink, and the red bulb with the black nozzle. Mom would have take off my shorts and underwear and then lie on my left side on the towels. She would then put some Vaseline on her finger and lube my anus and the nozzle, and then she would insert the nozzle and squeeze the bulb and repeat that several times, until she felt I was full and then have me sit on the toilet waiting for me to poop.

I can remember that red bag and where I was at years ago with my mother and my aunt. My aunt was a nurse at this small town hospital, we would get our shots and enemas from her & I can remember the medical table and where the bathroom was but that was about it, never forgot how she did that to me. THANK GOD FOR THE MEMORIES. that's right all in caps.

The sight of my bulging enema bag hanging from the hook in the bathroom, the sight of lubing up the douche nozzle, the sound of the flow meter softly clicking as the water flows, the sound of the last gurgle as the last bit of water leaves the bag and the final ratcheting clicks of the valve closing.