I can hear the linen closet being opened and the equipment being gathered.

I would be sitting on the toilet trying to go poo-poo. Mom would be busy getting the bulb syringe, vaseline, a fresh bar of Irovy and a towel from the linen closet. These would be assembled on the sink "just in case I needed a little help" The towel went on the tub. I would have been sent to the bathroom to try to go. She would always remove my jeans and underpants so I was more comfortable while trying to "go" Sometimes I would be so proud of the little hard marbles that I had produced that only confirmed to Mom that an enema was needed. Soon I would sit on the towel over the tub, while Mom prepared a sink full of warm Ivory soap. I soon found myself over her lap, staring at the floor tiles while she pumped bulbs full of the warm Ivory soap into my bowels. Whenever I heard the linen closet door being opened and the gear being assembled, I knew what was to follow.

If I was told that I was going to be given an enema, that sound of the door to the linen closet in the hall told me that my fate was soon in coming. The next sound I would hear was water running at the sink as it warmed. My mom would then fill a cooking pot from the kitchen, mix the Ivory in it, and pour it into the enema bag. The next sound to be heard was "Christine, come on. I've ready for you." There were those time when I was not told that I was getting an enema, but that closet door was always the giveaway.

Christine, I went through the same events you went through only after I was told there was like 5 minutes between being told and finding myself over mom's lap. As soon as she told me off she would go and get things ready. I would go to my room shed my pants and underware and head for the bathroom. I always had to pee first, watch mom take off her dress, hang it up and sit on the toilet for me to climb over lap. Four bulbs and off she go. Later 5 bulbs for a rinse. The giving procedure is on another topic.

My Mom probably used a bulb, when I was very young, that I don't remember. I only remember her using a bag, telling me to lay on the bathroom floor and take the enema. This only happened when I was constipated or sick. She did not force me to take the whole bag, but she always encouraged me to take more to make sure it was effective. She often squeezed the bag at the end.

Just a little something for thought...It was very seldom that the enema bag found it's way into the linen closet although it happened now and then. An amber folding syringe had appeared at times in the shower. The red enema bag had been relegated to a different place. Sometimes it was on the shelf and sometimes it was in a drawer. It was an adventure to locate at times, especially when trying to be stealthy.

I was known to snoop and rummage. If mom called out "what are you looking for?" I would always reply that I needed a towel or washcloth. I even tried turning on the water for a bath or shower to mask the sound. We all know what a nozzle sounds like if it bangs off the fixtures. I even left a drawer open to prevent entry into the bathroom at times. I suspect that when she heard the linen closet being opened, she may have had a clue what I was up to.

It didn't take me long to figure out that the amber travel syringe was a sight to behold when filled. That curved douche nozzle fit nicely as I put it to good use. I could use that syringe and she would be none the wiser even if it was wet. After all, she always hung an enema/douche bag from the shower head. The old red enema bag eventually found it's way under most of the clutter. It was just a special occasion when it came out.

I lived with my aunt when I was a kid. I got an enema whenever I was sick with anything...headache, stomach ache, sinus trouble, etc. The routine was always the same. She would say, "I'm going to give you an enema." Then I would hear the bathroom door open, the linen closet door open and the bag being taken down and the "snap" of the clamp. Then I heard the water running in the sink, then the water running into the bag to fill it up. I always had an erection by that time. Then she would say, "Come on". By this time I had stripped down to my underpants, unless I was in my pajamas. I went into the bathroom, closed the door, took my underpants or pajamas off and got into the bathtub on my left side. Then I got it. I always enjoyed this ritual.

I know that sound too well. As I sat on the bowl I could hear the nanny opening the closet and hear her clamping the clamp. I would start crying telling her I'll go. I was soon getting the soapy water and had no problem going.

Cody

Yes - my mom was a nurse and she kept the open top red enema bag in the linen closet under the sheets. I got enemas all the time for just about anything. It would always start with "I have to give you an enema...", then I would hear the cabinet open and hear the water running in the bathroom, right next door. For me, I could smell the rubber and when that scent hit, it became very arousing -- most enemas were me naked bent over the bathtub with legs spread wide -- she always used the regular smaller nozzle and after I got addicted to enemas, would sneak the kit out when no one was around and use the long douche nozzle. I had to be extra careful to dry the inside of the bag and hose so no one would know that is was indulging. I often wondered if she knew ...

I think I mentioned on my blog that the enema bag was kept in the linen closet directly across the hall from the bathroom. If I was sick I had my ears tuned to the sound of that door opening because I pretty much knew what my mother was taking out. My younger sister seemed to get enemas a lot more often than I did and other times when that telltale sound of the linen closet door meant that she had an appointment with mom's red bag.

I never developed a liking for enemas until I was in my 20s and that was due to the actions of my wife. So I never did have the opportunity to sneak off with the family enema bag like so many others here did.

I got pretty regular enemas from mom till I was 14.....

My mother would get her enema bag, go in the bathroom and mix the bag with warm soapy water. Then she would call me or my sister in depending on who was constipated and have me or my sister lay across her lap. She would then lubricate the enema tip with Vaseline and gently insert the tip. She would let the water flow slowly and when the bag was half empty she would stop I would get off her lap and sit on the toilet. Always felt like Niagara Falls was gushing. I miss my mother and the enemas at a young ago. Today I give myself an enema without an audience.

Yours was the linen closet door, mine was when I was told to go up to the bathroom and take off my clothes and wait and I would go through her drawers and see all the things that Auntie had to put in her butt and her vagina and the bathroom always smelled of roses. To this day, whenever I smell pussy or roses I think of her telling me to be still as she spread me and put the vaseline deep inside me before the sloshing sudsy enema went in. I recently had a colonic in a woman's home and as she inserted the speculum she said "it's ok if you hold your penis like you did when you were a little boy. I got so hard I thought i would cum right then. The speculum kept feeling like it was coming out and she would push it in and each time her hand hit my balls and just drove me nuts until I took my hand away and I felt her hand move lower down my stomach where she was rubbing it with baby oil all during the colonic.

Often I would be told that I was going to be given an enema. This would happen after a rectal temperature was taken. On those times that I was told a head of time I often knew what was coming when I heard the bathroom closet open, things being removed, and water running in the kitchen immediately afterwords.

Janet S

As an aside, I used to dread hearing the creaky medicine cabinet door. But even more, I dreaded hearing the bathroom tap running just for a second or two - because it was a sound associated with glycerin suppositories, and because often it was followed by the sounds of my sister begging mum and dad not to put the jelly in her, and screaming and crying as she was wrestled into position and forcibly penetrated with the suppository-bearing finger.

I could also hear the linen closet opening and mom getting the spare bedroom ready with a rubber pad and towels. Then the water in in the bath tub would run.

I never received enemas as a child, but I can relate. Like Squidgicunt I had my share of suppositories from mom, for constipation and throat aches (sometimes other reasons). These were stored in a cupboard in a small room with a toilet inside, not in the main medicine cabinet, perhaps because suppositories were often given bent over the toilet. Also, mom had a habit of requiring children to go potty before a medicated suppository so it made sense to give the suppository in the same room. I would be summoned to that small room and told to disrobe while mom fetched the suppositories. The cupboard door was a bit noisy due to the mechanism for holding the door closed.

Medicated suppositories, which consist of grease in which drugs are dissolved, were often stored in the refrigerator door when in use, so that the suppositories stayed solid before insertion. In this case, I would hear mother opening the refrigerator and deal with the box and plastic wrappers. But often I would hear before "Pecan, I'm going to give you your suppository, please go potty."

That same cupboard also held my mother's sanitary supplies. If I had been given a medicated suppository, I risked leaking grease into my briefs and pants. To avoid stains, my mother would put a sanitary napkin in my briefs under my anus. This was quite humiliating - but the whole suppository procedure was humiliating anyway.

To keep the discussion short and the enema inevitable, Mom would usually take the familiar irrigator can off her bedroom shelf and head for the bathroom to fill it with Ivory soapsuds,. The sound of the metal hose clamp banging against the white metal can was a sure giveaway.

I was given enemas regularly by mom that was the cure for everything she gave them to me til I was older never fazed her at all.

The housed I grew up in didn't really have a linen closet. Or a closet of any kind in the upstairs hall, such as it was.

The equipment was kept in a particular drawer in Dad's bedroom which also held all the laxatives Fleet Enemas etc.

In my house now, there is one drawer of the walk-in closet in the master bedroom where everything is kept.

The ritual at my house was always the same. The enema bag was always hung on the inside of the bathroom closet door. When I was told I was going to get an enema, I would undress to my pants and underwear, unless I was in bed with pajamas. My aunt would go into the kitchen to get the baking soda and saucepan. Then she would go into the bathroom and run the water and fill the enema bag. By this time I had a full erection. Then she would say, "Come on honey" and I would go into the bathroom, completely strip in front of her and lie down in the bathtub on my left side. The bag was always nearly full. Eventually I would ask her to stop, take it out, and cry a little, but never wail or move around. She never stopped until I had taken all the water. I still love to do that.

Slightly different scenario, but I adore my Domme partner to have me at least blindfolded and preferably completely dressed head to toe in tight rubber including hoods. Yes this has occurred at least once for real. Then when I can't see, I hear her running water in the sink and wonder what it means for my backside and colon. I just adore wondering what the running water has to do with my fate............................. It usually means I'm blindfolded in rubber and very shortly start to feel my rectum and colon start filling with warm solution of some kind. Then I have to tell my Domme what she put into my colon by what it does to me. Wow!

Eric

Dick (even real doctors have fascinating enemas not quite knowing what's being pumped into their colon until they figure it out. Talk about modern diagnostic vs old style clinical physical signs and symptoms medicine.)

Yes, the Linen Closet. Ours had a lock as the medicines were kept in there as well. Often when I heard her in there and my name was called, I knew what was coming. Once I walked into her room and saw a towel on the bed, a jar of Vaseline on the nightstand and her in the bathroom with the sink running, it was obvious what was next. This ritual, occurred several times a month, typically Sundays. That was a part of my upbringing that was constant and given with patience and love.

Yes the closet in the bathroom stored the enema equipment. We had a couple of bags and a bulb syringe which was used on me. The sound of the cupboard and the medicine cabinet door meant enema time for me. I got most of mine mid-afternoon when no one else was home.

Mom kept the latex syringe in a paper bag on the shelf of her bedroom closet.

The sounds that meant an enema was coming originated from the bathroom. The lav had a hot and cold water tap so she used the bathtub faucet to fill the enema bag. The tell tale sounds were the metal clamp scraping and hitting the bathtub, the loud sqeak the hot water knob produced and the inital splash of running water in the tub followed by the distinct sound of the bag being filled.

I'd wait quietly for the summons and the ensuring ordeal.

The other dreaded sound was the one-sided conversation with our pediatrician's office. The telephone was in the dining room, down the way drom my bedroom. I'd strain to hear what she was saying, hoping/hating that I'd hear the fateful word, "enema".

Whenever my mom would ask me when I last went to the bathroom I knew I was in trouble. It wouldn't be long until I would see her go into the bathroom. I could hear her open the door under the sink where she kept the Ivory soap and a bowl, Then I would hear the sound of her opening the medicine cabinet as she retrieved the bulb syringe and the Vaseline. She would then call me into the bathroom and tell me to get on the toilet and try to go as she went about filling the bowl with hot water and swishing the bar of Ivory soap in it to prepare my enema. I had to look at the syringe sitting on the counter as I tried in desperation to go, with no success. When every thing was ready she would tell me to lay face down on some towels on the floor and, despite my protests, the syringing would begin. She would use the syringe on me again and again until she had filled me with enough soapsuds to make me go. To this day I can vividly recall those events and the sounds of the doors opening and closing in advance of my enema.

It would always start with "When was the last time you went #2". This was followed by me sitting on the toilet attempting to push like there was no tomorrow. It wasnt the line closet that brought the most fear...it was hearing the refrigerator opening. It meant that i was about to get a very long, cold glycerin suppository inserted deep into my rectum.

Often times when I or my sister visited the doctor we would know we would be getting an enema when we got home. On occasion my mom might just have called the doctor and got the order to give one or both of us enemas. If you were up and about and not in bed you would see the water on the stove with the measuring cup on the counter with a bar of ivory soap floating in it and you knew soon enough it would be enema time!! If you were still in bed or in your room trying to stay out of sight hoping that would save you from the inevitable. IT never did.. The tell tale noise that would let you know with in a few minutes you would be naked on the bathroom floor getting a two quart soapy enema was the linen closet door being opened. It stuck so if it was opened it would vibrate an make a noise. I don't ever remember my mother taking the box out rather she would take off the top of the box and take out what she needed often times some part of the apparatus dropped on the wood floor. My room was right across from the bathroom and the closet. With in minutes after that mom would appear at the door and say come on it's time for your ENEMA lets go into the bathroom....

When I was about 4, my mom gave me enemas with a red rubber bulb. One piece, no separate tip.

When I couldn't poop, she took me in the bathroom, got the bulb out of the medicine cabinet, got warm water in a pink plastic bowl, and lubed the bulb tip with Vaseline. She had me take off my dress or shorts and panties or pj bottoms, and get on her lap. I would lay back with my legs drawn up and my feet behind my head.

I soon heard the bulb being squeezed and it sucking up water. The tip went in my little butthole and she squeezed the water in me. Oohhh that always felt so good! This was repeated RFNDGuntil the bowl was empty or I grunted that I was full and couldn't hold any more. I then got off her lap, jumped to the toilet, and noisily squirted out the wet poop.

Then around 9, I got switched to the bag and I truly was in enema heaven.

Well I guess I got into enemas when i was about 12 , was deathly ill so i have been told , remember being very sick for some time . Doctor had mom give a squeeze bulb of water several times a day to keep me hydrated, sort of like an IV .

It was always the same in bed ,roll up on side , have towel tucked under my bum , lift cheek, insert , squeeze ,remove , leave towel there in case , no expulsion .

Then a couple times a week the visiting nurse ,that came every day , would fill her big red bag , and I got a big soapsuds enema , not much for solids there because I couldn't keep solid food down . Doctor came to house in those days , told them to keep it up , finally got better .

Never hated getting an enema , 64 years later ,doesn't bother me today , have health aide that cares enough to do it my way .

Do not remember any particular sounds , always in bed they just came to my room with prepared apparatus and did the job .

I would usually be naked sitting on the toilet straining to go. My mom would go to the hall closet across from the bathroom and get the box with the B. F. Goodrich combination syringe in it. She would turn on the water in the sink and once it was warm fill the bag. The hose was screwed in and the bag hung from the door of the medicine cabinet over the sink. She would then put Vaseline on the black bat shaped nozzle and leave it sticking out over the side of the sink. She would put down towels and old blankets for me to lie on. She would then tell me to stop straining to go and "lie down and take your enema". I would lie down on my back, spread my legs and pull them up. She would gently insert the nozzle in my rectum and "click" open the clamp. The warm water would jet into my clogged rectum, the pressure building as pushing on my prostate gland. I would beg for her to stop and she would. Soon she would open the clamp and continue. This repeated until the bag was empty. The relief once my clogged bowels were open was fabulous! It made me the Klysmo that I am today!