Enemas

Daddy's little one said...
I was wondering if your Daddy makes you actually *use* the diapers and also if he ever makes you take enemas like my Daddy does?

This is part of two of the answer to this question, about enemas. My Daddy does, indeed, make me take enemas, and it is another thing I find very difficult! Having control over this part of your life is something very basic and very personal and having this control taken away, or giving it willingly, is as emotionally powerful as it is difficult.

Enemas, for me, come in two basic varieties:
- Intimate Care
- and Punishment

Intimate Care enemas are given to me on a semi-regular basis, much like the "little days", and are most often given to me as a part of that whole experience. An Intimate Care enema is very embarrassing, but I am required to cooperate and behave during the process in spite of that. The goal of this kind of enema is mainly to do with achieving that "little" mindset very deeply, the feeling of giving up an enormous amount of control and trusting Daddy with something so intimate and personal.

To start with, I am made to lie on the bed, face down, with pillows under my tummy that lift my bottom up in the air. Usually, I am in diapers at this time. Then, he leaves me like that while he takes the equipment into the washroom. The washroom is attached to the bedroom and I can see him while he fills up the bag with very warm water, about halfway, and brings it back to me. He suspends it from the bedpost, and then he undoes my diaper and takes it off.

He will apply vaseline to my bottom before inserting the enema hose to make it go smoothly, and during this process I am supposed to try and relax and not clench against his fingers or the hose as he gently presses it in, rubbing my back and talking to me softly. Once it's in properly, he clicks the valve open, just a little, and I can feel the water trickling into me. Because it's hot water, it doesn't hurt. It usually makes me feel warm all over as it fills me up slowly and the sensation is not unpleasant apart from imagining what it all looks like from his perspective which makes me turn crimson with embarrassment.

He administers this type of enema slowly, with lots of stops to get comfortable, shift position, and talk gently. He rubs my back and my bottom, and lets me tuck my legs up under me if I need to. When I have taken the half-bag full of water, he will sometimes turn me over on my back for some gentle touches and kisses. At times I am made me to climax in this position, which is a very pleasant way to pass the time until I am permitted to release the water. This kind of enema drives me deeply into "sub space" where I am slowly able to relinquish all control to him and let him guide me slowly through the slight discomforts and reward me for my good behaviour. (Aha! A carrot!)

A Punishment enema is similar in most ways except that it strives for a different kind of emotional/mental space. A Punishment enema, obviously, is administered to teach a lesson and for the most part, I have earned this kind of punishment through misbehaviour during "little" days, mainly transgressions in remembering that I am not permitted ANY grown up behaviours on these days.

When I am given this kind of enema, he will take the diaper off immediately and lie me over the pillows on the bed to wait for him, unclothed. This kind of exposure changes how I feel while I wait, with much more nervous anticipation and embarrassment of a much hotter nature. A Punishment enema uses water that isn't quite as hot (therefore not quite as comfortable to hold) and a lot more of it. The whole bag. He will hang the bag higher up to make the flow of water faster. He isn't as gentle with the insertion of the nozzle, and he talks to me differently during a Punishment enema, using trigger words and expressions about being a "naughty girl" and "learning an important lesson". Often, he swats my bottom a few times before inserting the hose and sometimes uses Bengay instead of vaseline, which burns. (The worst thing is an enema after a full spanking!)

He then clicks the valve open and during Punishment he allows it flow faster and will not stop as frequently. I am not permitted to move, except with his permission, and I am required to accept the entire bag of water. There have been times I have been unable to do so, and then he will let me go to washroom to release the water, and then am forced to come back and begin the process all over again until I am able to accept all the water in the bag. It sometimes becomes necessary to stop and get into a crouch position, a most humiliating pose that spreads you wide open, with knees tucked up to the stomach, in order to hold all the water, and I am required to get his permission to change position.

After I have accepted the whole bag, punishment enough in itself, I am required to hold it for usually ten or fifteen minutes. During this time, he will sometimes have me write lines, or will lecture and scold, and sometimes give a few more painful swats as well. During this time is often very uncomfortable. It becomes increasingly difficult to hold the water as time passes, and it comes and goes in waves that force me to clench tightly to keep holding the water. It's horribly embarrassing to have him watch me during this time and he tends to draw out the time by talking about how much time is left and how he hopes I am learning from my discomfort. When he finally allows me to go to release the water, I am usually ready to run there at a full sprint.

That's how enemas work for us. I understand there are other types of enemas designed to bring more discomfort (like castille soap) and more pleasure (like wine!) but I have not experienced anything like this. My Daddy threatens to experiment which keeps me slightly nervous. He has also expressed great interest in the item at the top of the page in response to my ocassional inability to accept and hold a full Punishment enema, and I fear it will end up rearing its ugly nozzle in our house in the near future.

What that is, is an inflatable enema plug. You can attach to the enema bag so the enema would be delivered through the plug (also resolving another of Daddy's complaints that the enema hose is too small to feel like a punishment) and when the enema is done, you close the opening so that the plug forces you to hold the water. I am torn between thinking it would be a relief to not have to hold the water through the force of willpower, and thinking that having the plug would mean that I'd be expected to hold it longer. I'll tell you this. I'm not buying it for him, and it's not on my Christmas list either!

http://www.extremerestraints.com/Merchant2/merchant.mvc?Screen=PROD&Store_Code=ER&Product_Code=DE720

Diaper Expectations

Daddy's little one said...
I was wondering if your Daddy makes you actually *use* the diapers and also if he ever makes you take enemas like my Daddy does?

I was thinking I would let HIM answer this one because it's sort of an awkward discussion for me, but he's been so busy at work the last couple of week (in preparation for time off). So I asked him last night if he thought he would have time to tackle this question any time soon and I was rewarded by having him tell me that I was required to reply to it myself. I'm going to answer in two parts. Today I'll answer the diaper question.

So here we go...

First of all, he does make me use the diapers. As of yet, I think that this is probably the most difficult thing he has required of me in our relationship. I find it really really really difficult, even now, after many years of marriage, to be able to do that without a lot of anxiety and embarrassment. I think I've explained that we are not a couple that does diapering all the time, so perhaps this is why I've never gotten accustomed to it enough for it to stop being difficult, or perhaps it's just that I am a private person in many ways. When he first began diapering me he did not require me to use them, and would usually only leave me in them for a short time. This was something I actually really enjoyed (once I recovered from the initial reluctance), and found comforting and sweet. The ritual of being diapered is rather lovely, intimate and tender.

When he first suggested that one day I would be be expected to use the diapers, I completely balked. I told him I would never ever do that. He was gentle in his insistence but he told me that one day I certainly would and that when he decided it was time, I would do as I was told. He didn't insist on it immediately but began increasing the time spent diapered so that it became more and more difficult for me not to. That, coupled with his insistence on plenty of fluids made it inevitable that the time would come when I had no choice.

When the day came that he decided it was time, I had been diapered for a few hours and was getting desperate. He'd been feeding me juice all morning and I really needed to go. I asked his permission to go to the washroom and he said no, that the time had come that I was going to use my diaper for the first time. I flatly refused. He smiled and said he would wait. The thing is that you just KNOW you're going to lose a battle like that. But I crossed my legs stubbornly for as long as I could (only about fifteen more minutes) and then begged some more. I was actually upset, feeling kind of panicky, certain that I simply could NOT do what he wanted me to do. I was also blushing like crazy, something I hate about being fair-skinned when you just cannot hide how you feel!

I ended up in tears, begging him not to make me do this and he was very sweet and gentle but also very much in charge. He picked me up and carried me to the washroom and sat me on the toilet, still wearing the diaper, and wiped my eyes and hugged me to him and made me take deep breaths until I was calm again. (As I recollect this experience, it is with fondness, in spite of how difficult it was and still is, for me to do this. )

So, because I was at such a level of desperation, my stubbornness was fading and I tried to listen to his words and block out my own fears. It's a strange thing how sitting on the toilet, in that familiar position, made it much more possible to allow myself to do what he wanted me to. And so I did. I let go and I cried and cried and cried as well. It was such a letting go of personal control and giving him a part of my private self that I never thought I would give away to anyone.

He understood how difficult that was, that first time. He was incredibly reassuring, holding me and hugging me and telling me he was proud of me for trusting him, for doing as he asked. I really did feel like his babygirl when he lifted me back up and laid me down for a changing. I was blushy and so shy about that, but he made me feel safe and loved all through it so it was a very powerful mix of tender and private and embarrassing that felt very little-girl-ish.

Since then, I have been required to use the diapers every time I am diapered. It has never stopped being extremely difficult and extremely embarrassing in spite of knowing he makes it safe. It is always a tremendous leap of faith, somehow. It is always giving up a little more control than I feel comfortable with, and this is, of course, what makes it meaningful. In spite of how difficult it is for me, it isn't something I have ever tried to renegotiate with him, except while it's happening, and there is no negotiating during.

He does expect me, now, to use the diapers upon his command, if I haven't done so on my own. I still tend to hold it as long as I can in hopes I can wait him out. Sometimes he gives me a direct order to go, right now. That's what I have the hardest time with. When I decide on my 0wn, I have time to prepare mentally for that loss of control. When he simply insists on "right now", I feel terribly exposed. There was one time I got in big trouble for resisting, and we had what I would sort of call a battle of wills.

When he told me to go, I just couldn't. I mean, not physically, mentally. I just wasn't ready yet, mentally, and I told him I couldn't. He knew that I could because it had been several hours and he gave me the order again. I said I couldn't again. He stood me in the corner and said I had five minutes. Now, I've never discussed this with anyone before so I don't know if my experience is shared with others who are diapered, but for me, going while standing up is even more difficult. So I was standing in the corner, with his eyes on my back, timing me, and I just could not bring myself to do it, even though I wanted to, both to please him and also just because I needed to. I guess maybe I was also feeling stubborn, which doesn't happen with me often, except for with this one issue. So I just didn't do it.

And when five minutes were up, he came up behind me, undid the tapes on my diaper and took it off and pulled me over his knee and spanked the daylights out of me with his slipper. I screamed. That rubber slipper is one of the most torturous items he uses and my bottom was searing hot when he was done. Then he took out the vaseline (always a foreboding sign) and inserted the big bottom plug, a little too fast for comfort. Then he put the diaper back on and stood me back in the corner, sobbing, and gave me another five minutes.

I was bawling, from the spanking and the stretching of the plug and also just the sheer humiliation of being forced to pee in a diaper in front of my husband. And yet, in spite of all that, I just couldn't do it. I was angry as well as embarrassed and I stood there, crying, and didn't do what he told me. I am almost never defiant and it's hard to explain, in retrospect, why this time was different than the others, when I had complied with his request. So when he told me the five minutes was nearly up and ordered me again, to go, I didn't do it.

Again, he came up behind me and took down the diaper, and took me across his knee. Has anyone else ever had a second trip across the lap a few minutes later? With an already scalding hot bottom, it took only one connection with that vile slipper to change my mind but he was having none of that. Because I had deliberately defied him, I was in for it, and I got cooked. I told him I would go now and to please please please stop! But he was not through with me because of my disobedience and he gave me a huge spanking that seemed to have no end. I should clarify about the difference here, between this spanking, and some of the others that have also seemed interminable. Usually when he spanks he does what he calls a "layering" effect. What that means is that he gives about 10-15 swats, then stops, and talks to me, then gives more swats, stops again, more talking, and so on. What this does is gives me time to breathe between rounds and gain some (though not much) composure. And the talking in between takes me out of panic mode and lets me focus on his words for moment.

Anyway, this second spanking had no such kindnesses. It was straight-through, no stopping, wholehearted whaling, with my hands pinned behind my back, his leg over top of mine to pin me down, and me panicking, struggling, wiggling, and yelling until I was hoarse. It was terrible. The lesson is that you don't disobey Daddy when he first gives you the chance to obey.

After that spanking I was a mess. I was gasping and sobbing and shaking and he wasn't terribly sympathetic at that moment, either. He simply readjusted the plug to make it deeper, redid the diaper, and dropped me back in the corner, and told me again, quietly, to go now. There was no five minutes to get myself together this time, and you can bet that I didn't wait half a second to obey this time. I did it right away, right that second and then kind of collapsed in his arms while he held me and rocked me and comforted me.

I have to admit that since then, I've never been that resistant again, but I have, at times, been punished for not obeying as quickly as I am expected to.

So that is my answer to the first part of the question. I will answer the second part next time.

Still Hate it After All These Years

Something I've never been able to get comfortable with, as long as Daddy and I have been married, is when he takes control of ... certain things.

We aren't Daddy/little girl all the time. It isn't possible, with our careers and busy lives, to stay in the role at all times. For example, I usually need to drive myself to work, I usually make my own meals (most often not meals that require more talent than the average three year old possesses), I do not thrive on watching Disney cartoons and doing colouring pages for real entertainment. This is all understood.

Still, I am his little girl all the time, even when I have to be a big girl. And with that in mind, I still ask his permission to go out, I ask him what I may make to eat, and I obey him (almost always!). We don't have "bathroom play" in our relationship. It's not something that interests either of us at all. But there is something closely akin to it that Daddy ocassionally insists upon and I hate it. Hate it hate it hate it!!

At times, usually on weekends, Daddy decides I need to be reminded of my place. This happens when I forget to ask permission about things. Then he makes me be his real baby for an extended period of time. During that time, I'm not allowed to do anything grown up. I'm not allowed to have my coffee. I'm not allowed to talk on the phone with my friends. I'm fed his version of babyfood (gag, he makes it in the blender), and I stay in my sleepers. And the part that's really hard for me is that he makes me wear diapers.

Even though this has been a part of our relationship for years and years and years, I have never gotten fully comfortable with the diaper thing. It's beyond embarrassing. It's completely and totally disempowering. I mean, most parts of ageplay are disempowering from the perspective of the little one. But this goes far beyond being spanked or sent to the corner or grounded. This is Daddy having control over the very most basic functions of my body and it makes me so mortified, sometimes, that I want to refuse to wear them and get dressed and run away!

He knows it's hard for me. He knows I have a terribly hard time with diapers. That's why he makes me do it when I've gotten too "Big", because it strips me right down to infancy. There are aspects of being diapered that are so loving and sweet. It isn't painful and it isn't a real "punishment". It's just a complete stripping away of all self-control and all privacy and it's so completely embarrassing I don't know if I'll ever get comfortable with it.

Of course, I don't think I'm meant to be comfortable with it.