Cousin's Punishment Enemas
This product was produced in 2004 and is in compliance with 18 U.S.C. Section 2257
Many years ago there was a letter published in the Penthouse Forum that served as the inspiration for the two vignettes on this video. The original letter is produced below. This is the second in the Stonefox Signature Series.
My Aunt told me later that she had gotten up that morning feeling bloated so she gave herself an enema. I think she must like them but her two daughters sure don't! She uses them to punish them. I remember being over there one day and we were playing a game and my cousin Lynn called me a shithead. My aunt overheard it and told her that she was going to get a PE. A punishment enema! She even had me stay and watch!
One other time I was over there and the girls were fighting and tore one of my aunt's dresses. It seems that Barb had done it so she was going to get a punishment enema and I had to stay and watch!
After it was all over my aunt said that she was going to suggest to my own parents that I be punished with enemas instead of my dad's belt. I don't know which would be worse!
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From Penthouse, 1973
I was amused by C.W.T.'s letter (November) concerning bizarre activities at an institution for delinquent girls. Her story reminded me of the punitive enemas my aunt used to give her two teenage daughters. One day I arrived at my aunt's house just as one of my cousins was about to undergo correction for having deliberately torn her sister's dress in a fit of envy. The culprit tried to rectify the situation by apologizing, but undauntedly my aunt was gathering the enema equipment. I was too fascinated to make a polite exit, till my cousin blushingly asked her mother to send me home. To my surprise, my aunt decided I could stay, as an additional embarrassment for the malfeasant.
In honor of my presence, she was permitted to retain her bra and panties. But I was not disappointed. I have always considered her attractive, and seeing her in a tight pair of silk panties gave me quite a thrill. The recalcitrant was ceremoniously ushered into a bedroom and reluctantly laid face down on some towels spread over the bed. She whimpered as my aunt lowered her panties in front of me and her giggling sister. The silken undergarment was arranged as a useless decoration below her knees, leaving her shapely buttocks and thighs full exposed. Then, while my curiosity rose, my aunt attached a rubber hose to the enema bag and inserted a nozzle at the loose end. I noticed that she used a larger hygienic nozzle rather than the regular device provided for enema usage. She carefully greased this threatening plastic tube as its intending victim stared in horror. Ignoring her entreaties, my aunt pried apart the unhappy girl's fleshy cheeks and the glistening black nozzle was slowly pushed into her rectum until it nearly disappeared inside the forced opening. Having checked that the hose was properly secured, my aunt instructed her whining daughter not to move and then went to the kitchen to prepare the special enema solution.
During my aunt's 15-minute absence, my cousin, doing as she was told, maintained her enema hose stretched like a strange clothes-line from her quivering behind to the limp bag hanging on a bed post. Her sister was beside herself from enjoyment and our continual taunting and banter aggravated her ordeal. Unsupervised for so long, we took advantage of the opportunity afforded by the slightly protruding nozzle. To our amusement, we discovered that, by merely manipulating the implanted object, we could obtain splendid reactions from its unwilling possessor. We were like children mischievously torturing a captured dog by playfully twisting the outraged creature's tail. Much like a helpless animal, my cousin was at our mercy. The muffling noise of a radio rendered her screams for help useless, while a great fear of my aunt's wrath prevented her from freeing herself. So, submitting to the inevitable, she meekly held her pose while her sister and I each took turns in experimenting with the nozzle. We were treated to an exciting show of squirming, fanny wiggling and childish complaints.
Just when we heard my aunt returning, my partner-in-mischief suddenly jerked the enema hose from its moorings in her alarmed sister's mid-posterior. I was at first mystified by this unexpected maneuver, but its purpose was to become apparent. As my aunt came back into the room, she found her errant daughter frantically attempting to restore the nozzle and immediately misinterpreted her intentions. Wrongly identifying the prankster and ignoring the victim's self-vindicating accusations, my aunt swiftly reinserted the nozzle and carefully filled the enema bag with the pitcher of solution she had prepared. She told us the dreadful-looking milky concoction contained a mixture of hot water, soapsuds, baking soda, salt and mineral oil. With all in readiness, she opened the stopcock, starting the flow into the pseudo-patient. My aunt skillfully released the liquid in intermittent spurts by pinching the hose. First, she would let it gush, causing the recipient to writhe in distress as the pressure quickly mounted. Then she would stop it momentarily, allowing the pressure to subside to a tolerable level. In all, well over a quart must have been emptied out of the enema bag.
My cousin believed that the completed enema concluded her degrading public
exhibition, but my aunt insisted on scrubbing her heretofore private areas with
a wash cloth and toilet paper in much the same way as one might clean an infant
for a diaper change. Even after that, my aunt made her wait at the bathroom door
and stand facing the wall only steps from the physical relief she craved. N. P.
(name and address withheld), Tolland, Conn. (February, 1973)