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Date Posted: 07:02:34 01/02/22 Sun
Author: Carla
Subject: My experience

It has been six years since my last spanking and enema and it time I relate my experience to others. So this is how I was punished.

Let me start off by saying that I was never punished when it was not deserved. In fact, I probably got away with 10 things for every time I was caught and disciplined. But when I was disciplined, it was a miserable experience that most certain punished for the offense and made you never want to repeat what ever it was you did. And the rule was as long as your bills were paid and a roof was over your head you were subject to punishments. My last discipline session was when I was 19.

My mother and her sister who lived with us may have had unique methods, but they were effective to correct our behavior. It did not matter if you were a girl or boy punishments were equally administered and there was no favoritism of any kind. You did the crime; you paid the price.

It began with the announcement that you had done something wrong and that a discipline session was in order. Usually this was done at the dinner table so everyone in the family knew what was about to occur. While you were not punished in front of everyone, doors were left open and while others could not stop and gawk, there were frequent walks nearby to get a glimpse of what was going on which added to the punishment of the offender.

At the appointed time I had to go to my mothers or aunts room and strip down to my bra and panties. Then you stood there with hands on head waiting for your punishment to begin. Sometimes the wait was very short, perhaps as little as 10 minutes. Sometimes it was long which could be up to an hour. During that time your mind would race on how bad it would be and of course others would walk down the hall seeing you waiting for your punishment to begin.

Finally, my mother or aunt (or sometimes both) would come into the room. They began by removing my bra and pulling down my panties leaving me standing there naked for all to see. There always was a lecture of varying lengths and then the fear increased as my mother or aunt would walk over to the closet where on the top shelf the spanking implements were kept. Those included a hairbrush, a bath brush, a stout wooden spoon and a heavy ping pong type paddle, and finally a wooden rod which was the worse.

Most of the time they brought back the hairbrush which as much of a relief as it was a terror (it could have been a much worse implement). They sat on a small dressing table bench and you were hauled over their lap. Hopefully, they did not pick up a bottle of baby oil to smear on your butt which increased the sting of the implement multiple times. A towel was placed under your head on the floor to catch your tears and snot and things and a couple of pats on your butt signaled the start of the punishment.

The spanking was incredibly painful and lasted a long time. As the brush or whatever spanked my butt my arms would flail in the air and my legs would kick up and down and sideways and everyway possible as the agony in my end increased. None of which was a deterrent to the spanker. Tears and snot and drool would fall onto the towel on the floor. During the spanking I would occasionally glimpse upward to see others quickly looking in the door to relish my predicament.

Finally, the spanking would stop and I would push off my mother or aunts lap. There wasn’t any recovery time as they would stand and grab you by the ear and haul you to your feet and walk you down (an often crowded) hallway to the bathroom. There you would see the second part of your punishment waiting for you.

They had the most unique enema bag I have ever seen. I doubt they even make them anymore but it was fearful sight to behold. It was like a huge water bottle with a nozzle in the middle of it with a stick that would open a valve to shoot water up your butt. I had to bend over and a quick finger would be pushed up my hole to lubricate me a bit (usually with some soft soap which stung) before I was ordered to sit on the bag which was placed on the closed toilet seat. If you were lucky, the bag was filled with soapy water. For more severe punishments it was filled with water and lemon juice which caused incredible cramps.

Easing myself onto the nozzle would start me bawling again. As you settled on the squishy bag my butt would erupt in pain as the freshly spanked areas were not in contact with the patterned surface of the bag.

I was told to place my hands on my head and my mother or aunt would twist the stick that was between my legs in front and start the solution flowing. There was an immediate shock as the water was always very warm and your weight sitting on the bag assured a rocket light jet of water shooting up your butt.
This would cause you to squirm which made the whole situation worse as your movements would vary the pressure of the water flow in you. It seemed that no matter how you moved or wiggled it made things worse.

Soon the cramps would begin and the pressure in your bowels increased. I could not help not to beg for my mother or aunt to stop the flow but those pleas were always ignored. The cramps would make you want to expel the solution violently but the nozzle and the bag made an effective plug to prevent any discharge.

My belly would swell and the agony of the fullness and cramping made you forget the burning in your butt and your attention was now focused on the enema flowing in you. Of course, the door to the bathroom was open so others could again wander by and see your predicament.

I made the mistake of vocalizing my agony several times which only resulted in a bar of soap being shoved into my mouth to add to the punishment process. As the water flowed up my bottom the soapy taste would make me nauseated and a soapy drool would fall onto my tits creating a vulgar display.

Eventually the bag would be empty and my mother or aunt would twist the stick again and stop any remaining flow. I would gently ease off of the bag and stand up as they moved the bag away and flipped up the seat of the toilet for me to use.

Then having to sit down with hands on head and crying like a baby they watched my release. As full as I was it always took a few minutes because of my total embarrassment of being observed seemed to have prevented me going right away. But the cramps and the quarts of water in my in butt soon overpowered that feeling and a gush of solution would roar into the toilet. Having my mother or aunt stare at me during the process of elimination not to mention having others walk by the open door seeing me on the toilet was almost as bad as the punishment I was undergoing.

Eventually I would feel empty and would be allowed to clean up and flush the toilet. As I stood up naked I would receive a follow-up lecture and then it seemed like magic their would be a fierce need to go again and would frantically plop down on the toilet and release a second round of solution. Again this would be watched by my mother or aunt who often met this second event with a smirk on their face. This process could be repeated several times before I was left with sore butt, a still cramping stomach, and totally embarrassed naked state before I was allowed to go to my room to recover. There were times that I still had to make a mad dash to the toilet to complete my punishment as the night went on but my lesson was learned.

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