Spanking And Enema Punishment

Spanking And Enema Punishment

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>Making the M & M even worse punishment
>
>Anyone who has ever been punished with an M&M (Milk
>and Molasses) enema understands how horrible they are
>and how effective as a punishment tool they can be.
>But over the last few days I have improved upon the
>punishment and wanted to pass it along to all
>interested parties.
>
>First, the enema is only part of a good punishment
>system. I think it is important to use a punishment
>system rather than just an enema method. This greatly
>increases the punishment factor and hopefully will
>discourage a repeat offense.
>
>What I do is start by informing the offender that they
>are going to get a punishment enema that they will
>never forget. They are then ushered into the kitchen
>where the punishment solution and items will be
>prepared. I will immediately strip them naked. This
>is often accompanied by pleas and promises that are
>obviously ignored. From this point on they will be
>naked for the entire punishment regime.
>
>They must stand and watch while not moving with hands
>on their heads while I make the punishment ready for
>them. Any movement will result in additional
>punishment from this point on they are to remain
>silent. Should they speak or protest they will be
>rewarded with a soapy washcloth inserted into their
>mouths.
>
>I start by gathering the punishment items. This
>includes a long piece of ginger root that will be used
>as a fig; a jar of blackstrap molasses, and my new
>found key ingredient buttermilk, which make the
>solution much more severe.
>
>I pour about a cup of molasses and a cup of buttermilk
>into a pan and heat it to about 110 degrees. It will
>cool down a bit before it is administered and will
>look like dark chocolate milk.
>
>Then I peal the ginger root and scrape the outside
>with a fork. This releases more “juice” which makes
>the fig more effective.
>
>Now comes the first part of the punishment. The
>offender is placed over my knee and the fig is
>inserted into the anus. It should be moved in an out
>for at least two minutes during which time the burning
>sensation will become extreme. I take a piece of
>adhesive tape and use it to hold the butt cheeks
>together with the fig inserted as I take the offender
>to the bathroom. If they have a soapy washcloth in
>their mouths they may remove it but not rinse.
>
>I use a large bulb syringe to administer the enema. A
>little goes a long way and two bulb fulls will send
>the offender into agony.
>
>Before I administer the enema I will give the toilet
>seat a good coating of icy hot or other such
>substance. When they sit down they will feel a new
>form of punishment that make them think twice about
>offending.
>
>Now I give them a very long and very hard spanking and
>I will be sure us the bristles of the brush side to
>rough their backsides. This makes the icy hot much
>more effective.
>
>Now the fig is removed and the enema quickly
>administered. They will want to clench their butt to
>hold the enema in but that will greatly increase the
>residual burning from the fig. They are instructed to
>hold the enema for 10 minutes, which is impossible.
>The addition of buttermilk to the solution increases
>the long term cramping and the results in a few
>minutes will be explosive.
>
>Now they will likely sit on the toilet after only a
>few minutes. The results will be explosive but a new
>10 minute time period starts. The icy hot will start
>burning their already sore behinds and some additional
>icy hot on a man’s balls or on a woman’s vulva will
>add to the punishment.
>
>While they sit the hairbrush can be used liberally on
>the fronts of their thighs to great effect.
>
>Once the 10 minutes are up they may stand up, but are
>put into a diaper which they will wear for at least 8
>hours. The burning of the icy hot will be quite
>uncomfortable and the cramping of the buttermilk will
>produce additional bowel movements that they try to
>hold, with the burning from the fig still present when
>they clamp their cheeks together or they can just deal
>with a messy diaper.
>
>As I said, I think this will be a great addition to
>the punishment and doubt they will repeat the offense
>any time soon.

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ENEMAS AND THE VICTORIAN CORSETTING ROUTINE

In
point 9, under “Diet,” where the author of

SOUND ADVICE TO MOTHERS AND GOVERNESSES REGARDING
CORSET DISCIPLINE FOR THE BEGINNER
recommends that the novice “should
be trained to have one bowel movement a day immediately after rising in the
morning,” most modern readers unfortunately won’t catch her drift.
What her readers long ago would have understood her to mean by that term
was by administering enemas. They
were commonly used in the 19th century—all the members of many (most?)
families had one weekly; it was a conventional health practice.
In addition, many, maybe most, well-corseted women habituated themselves
to having a bowel movement in the morning or evening by taking an enema.
It eliminated complications that arose from doing “number 2” while
wearing a corset and an elaborate set of undies, especially before toilet paper
had been invented. (I believe people
who could afford it used sponges.)

And
enemas eliminated having to empty a chamber pot more than once a day—it was
filled and immediately emptied at a set time.
If women had used it whenever they were in the mood, it would have had to
be emptied more often (or it would have stunk up the premises).
Therefore, because they promoted health and convenience, enemas weren’t
considered a bad, but rather a good ,
habit. (And maybe they
were—medical opinion on such matters is sometimes influenced by fads and
fashions, so perhaps the old-fashioned practice was actually correct, or at
least not very harmful. After all,
we occasionally discover that some discarded Victorian practice has merit, such
as women’s avoidance of sunburns.)

There’s
another reason why many Victorian women considered enemas a “good” habit.
In the 19 th century there were few “public facilities.”
There were no toilets on trains or stagecoaches.
Such facilities as there were were pretty rough—nasty outhouses,
mainly. They were cold in
winter and stank in summer. And
sitting on a dirty, partially full public chamber pot (in a theater’s
restroom, for instance) wasn’t a prospect women relished.

Or
if a woman went bicycling, urination was not a problem in the countryside—and
90% of

England

was countryside. She just squatted
by the side of the road, let her skirts billow around her, and let go—30
seconds later, at most, she was done. Drawers
had slits in them to facilitate this sort of thing.
But doing “number 2” would have been problematic, as she’d have had
no toilet paper, she’d have had to remove her drawers (they’d be soiled
otherwise, lacking a sitting-surface to keep their two halves apart), the
process would have taken over a minute (and couldn’t have been easily
interrupted if someone were heard approaching, unlike urination), and there’d
have been an embarrassing and inconsiderate remnant left behind.

Even
if a woman merely visited a friend, she’d have been embarrassed to ask to use
her friend’s chamber pot for anything more than “number 1,” as doing
“number 2” would have left a stench and required her to ask the servant (or
her friend) to empty it at once (and perhaps would have necessitated an awkward
request for a sponge). So women with
“get up and go” wanted to avoid having “the urge to go” overtake them
when they were outside. Being
enema-dependent solved their problem.

If
women visited a friend for a weekend or longer, they either took their enema
equipment with them, or just consumed a strong laxative.

Even
in the 20 th century some women probably continued this practice,
either because it was handed down by their mothers, or because they discovered
it made things simpler in the bathroom at work.
E.g., it’s easy to urinate when wearing an open-bottom girdle (OBG)
with panties underneath, by simply pushing the crotch of the panties aside.
(Provided the girdle isn’t one that comes far down the thighs.)
But doing “number 2” requires (at least) undoing the back garters,
rolling up the back of the girdle, and pulling the panties down to the top of
the stockings. And clean-up
afterwards, with the undies in such disarray, must have been a bit tricky.
Doing “number 2” on a regular schedule at home, when the girdle was
off, would have seemed preferable to some.

(This
is one bit of intimate social history we’ll never learn about until some
foundation funds an investigation of older women’s recollections about
“unmentionable” (undie-related) topics.
Our descendents will wish we’d done so!)

Postscript: The subject of the difficulty of “answering nature’s
call” while wearing a girdle came up in the Girdles and More forum, and one
exceptionably knowledgeable member with the handle “Working Antique” made
this post, which parallels the interpretation I’ve made above:

It's clear, dating well back
into the 19th century and tight-lacing, that for a century or so, women
learned to handle what society called their “toilette,” which was the daily
ritual of bathing and getting dressed in the morning, and learned to develop
a “schedule” of a sort that fitted their daily life—that is, at least the
privileged classes did.

Elements of that could be found
in the sort of regimen some women followed into the 1960s. Suffice it to
say that “The Age of Aquarius” challenged and changed a lot of things.

Also, I recently came upon a novel set in 1864, and written by an
Englishwoman, Marghanita Laski, in 1954, that describes the embarrassment
that a woman felt when they had to call upon a servant to get a chamber pot
at an unscheduled time, and what a Big Deal it was to clean the pot and
deodorize the room afterwards. The quotation below is from pp. 53-57 of The
Victorian Chaise Longue.

Melanie lifted her left hand,
slowly and with difficulty, and twitched the brass bell from off the
tatting. … "Well?" asked Adelaide, and bent over and replaced the bell
upright on the tatting beside the tumbler.

"I want -- " began Melanie, "I
want -- I am afraid that I must -- " She was choking with shame, and could
not go on.

She heard Adelaide empty the
chamber pot and swill it out. She heard her pour out water, wash her own
hands, and throw that water away too. ….

Adelaide … called, "Lizzie! The
lavender shovel!" There was a moment's waiting, and then Lizzie's heavy
steps came up the stone stairs, along the passage and into the room. Now …
she saw Lizzie come past her couch, holding at arm's length a black kitchen
shovel on which burned red embers.

Adelaide was standing by the
fireplace, a small green bottle in her hand. Lizzie held out the shovel to
her, and on the embers Adelaide dripped liquid from the bottle. There was a
sizzling, and smoke rose from the shovel, heavy with the smell of lavender.
Adelaide recorked the bottle, and replaced it behind the jar containing the
bulrushes, while Lizzie walked about the room, holding the shovel before
her, waving it slowly from side to side.

Yes, There Are More Stories — mrstrict1@aol.com
I like to think I’ve given the culprit a real choice when I invite her to select which she’d like to receive first, the paddling, the enemas or the vigorous use of her behind. After all, a gentleman always lets the lady choose, and I am nothing if not a gentleman. Or so I’m told, even while the culprit’s bent over the rim of the tub with my cock jammed deep up her backside as she struggles to retain the enema while I make use of her posterior.
Sometimes I offer up an addition or two to the basic menu I’ve already outlined; for example, if I’m in an especially upbeat mood I may invite the culprit to be masturbated across my knee while having her bottom filled with soapy water. This is something I feel we can both enjoy – she for the overwhelming submission to my will and the naughty sensations my fingers and the nozzle in her bottom produce; I, for … well, for the joy I invariably get when I’m in control and creating misery and pleasure simultaneously in the recipient.
I should say that I’m sadistic in the allocation of reward; the masturbation, while pleasurable, is prolonged, in order that she take the entire bag full of water, to which I should say I’ve added an extra large helping of soap. Well, reward should be given only after it’s earned, and besides my own enthusiasm for rubbing the sopping wet space between the spread legs is only enhanced as I watch the level of the bag drop and the pressure in her backside build to a completely intolerable level.
It always creates a pretty scene, the shifting and tensing of her body across my knees, the delicious sight of her posterior impaled on the nozzle or, most appropriately, her cheeks spread wide apart by the inflated outer balloon of the double bardex, that most glorious of retention nozzles, the inflated rubber poking out from the well lubricated little opening I’ve forced it into.
I suppose at this point you’ll likely want to know the obvious – do I give pleasure in the form of intercourse or is it just rubbing while receiving and retaining? The answer is, yes, I do, in fact there’s nothing I like so much (apart from the use of the culprit’s bottom) as to give a punishment enema during sex, especially if it’s a beer enema and I can taste the beer on her breath as I administer it and she rides up and down seeking desperately for the release I may at some point provide.
Her discomfort is an incentive to ride, you see, and the nozzle in her backside makes her entirely tighter in front, which, needless to say, is something I can’t help but enjoy, not that it diminishes in any way the length of time I’ve resolved to make her post on me, or the ordeal I’ve committed to her undertaking.
The above exegesis should make plain that I’m a stickler for detail, I like sensation as much as the next gentleman, obviously, but what’s sensation without intricate planning and preparation to precede it?
Now planning has one major drawback – it distracts from my own enjoyment of the culprit’s predicament. Being in the driver’s seat is a pleasure, but it has the disadvantage that you generally have to drive and, in so doing, get so focused on the road that you just don’t enjoy the view.
But that’s a somewhat strained metaphor. To put it more simply, all the energy I put into preparing the culprit for the ordeal and the instruments of the ordeal for the culprit … it’s energy I’d rather expend elsewhere.
I do admit there’s a certain economy in my preparations that comes of long experience with the rod, which I set aside for use in the caning she’ll get at some point, or the different straps I have no doubt I’ll employ, or even the thin little leather piece I apply vigorously between the spread cheeks to get her little bumhole ready for my penetration. And so too there’s economy in my preparations of the bag, filled to the brim with the caustic soapy water that will wreak havoc in her entrails and pleasure in my cock if I have her ride as she receives and retains while skewered on it.
So too there’s parsimony in my laying out the double bardex – or rather, having her fetch it, and my watching her do so, the flaps of the gown swinging open in back so I can enjoy the sight of her red marked cheeks as she goes to get the instruments of her internal purging.
And even when she’s tied down and I’m viewing her spread cheeks with my cock just at the entryway, her bottomhole clenching desperately tight as she struggles to retain while waiting the unrelenting sodomy she’s about to receive, even in that position I prefer to require her to push back to take me in, thereby reducing my own efforts that would otherwise go to thrusting. I am a conservator of energy, I intend to use the behind for a good long while, and it’s for her good as well as my enjoyment that she should have to thrust herself back onto me.
Something I invariably have to explain each time the event occurs, or, in the alternative, have her recite to me each time she thrusts her paddled posterior back to take me deep inside, her stomach gurgling and her tight little portal squeezing desperately on me as I slide in and out.
One thing I’ve found over time is that there’s some real solace to be found in leaving the decision-making to fate, in the form of a flip of a coin or some other mechanism that introduces a measure of chance into the length and severity of the correction.
Consider the amount of soap in the enema bag, if it’s up to me I’ll likely decide to be kind and use less than a true punishment requires. I’ve always been soft and age has only increased my lapses in this direction.
And so we play a little game instead, one where I fill the bag with water and then hand her a pair of dice for her to roll to determine the length of the retention. And roll she does, not once but twice, for a single roll would be, at most, 12 minutes, which is clearly too short to constitute a real purge under any circumstances.
No, two rolls, 4 minutes at a minimum, and 24 minutes at most. So when the retention happens, the length’s fate’s choice, not mine. I am simply there to enforce what chance has chosen, and of course to ensure that she be a good girl and retain the entire bag for the entire time the dice have decreed.
You can see how this makes a situation more interesting, also how the mechanism I’ve described is easily extrapolated to other choices that would otherwise fall on my shoulders to make. The number of packets of soap in the water, a roll of a single die will decide. I admit 6 packets is excruciating, or so I have to judge based on the cries for mercy and release. Buf if that’s what’s been rolled, that’s what she’ll have, whether she likes it or not.
And then the number of strokes of the cane that precede the cleaning out beforehand, two dice for that one, and similarly for the strokes to be applied after her behind’s been put to use. I admit that there’s some monotony to a defined range of 2 (at a minimum) and 12 (at most), so I sometimes add a third or even a forth die just to ensure variety. Yes, the grand total of 48 strokes is substantial, but punishment requires severity, and as I said, if left to my own devices I’m otherwise inclined far too much to kindness.
There’s poignancy in this approach, she may look at me with desperation, pleading with me to be less severe than the dice have decreed; but it’s not up to me anymore,
Pov Brunette
Tan Slut
Thndrshark

Spanking And Enema Punishment

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