Saturday, 24 March 2012

Pyjama Punishment






It was a beautiful sunny afternoon when Lisa, her mother and Lisa’s friend Janice, left the nightie clad Phillip tucked up cosily in bed and descended the stairs back out into the garden to enjoy their tea.





Lisa was expecting more of her friends to arrive for her pyjama party, the girls hoped to stay up late, perhaps as late at midnight.  Melanie and her mum welcomed their return. 





‘Is my sweet ex-boyfriend all tucked up in beddy-byes fast asleep?’ asked Melanie.





‘Of course, and he didn’t look at all happy when we dressed him in my pink winceyette nightie!’ Laughed Lisa.





 Melanie snickered, ‘I don’t suppose he enjoyed that one little bit!’





‘My brother is only getting what he deserves the brat!’ Lisa said, adding, ‘we left his window open a bit, so hopefully, when he wakes he can hear us all talking and enjoying ourselves while he is confined to bed. That should annoy our little babykins even more, knowing that we are all down here enjoying the sun while he is in his cosy nightwear!’





After about an hour of pleasant conversation, free from the annoyance of her brother, Lisa decided to check on Phillip and tip-toed up the staircase, as she did so a plan started to take shape in her mind. She could not prevent a smile creeping across her face as she crept into his bedroom. It didn’t take her long to find what she needed.





Silently she pulled back the bedclothes that encompassed slumbering Phillip and started to unbutton her sleeping brothers winceyette nightie, he stirred slightly and she hesitated, fearful he would wake before she had prepared the scene of the crime!


Carefully, she slipped the small torch and comic book that she had taken from his room under his pillow.




‘Naughty babykins is going to be in lots of trouble now,’ she whispers to herself as she plants a tender kiss on his face and leaves the room.





Standing at the top of the stairs she shouts dramatically for her mum. The sound of her approaching footsteps once again brings a smile to her face. Seconds later they enter the bedroom of the bleary eyed Phillip.





A bewildered Phillip is barely awake as his furious mother berates him for his disobedience.





‘Didn’t I tell you to go straight to sleep young man; instead I find you have been reading comics under the bedclothes just like a naughty little boy.’


His mother brandished the comic and torch in front of him whilst Lisa smirked at his discomfort.





‘To make matters worse,’ scolded his mum, ‘haven’t you been told you are not allowed to meddle with the buttons on your nightie? You know very well that little baby’s like you are not allowed to dress or undress themselves.’





Phillip began to realise that Lisa had tricked his mother into believing he has misbehaved and tries to tell her this, only instead his mother believes Lisa, he was indeed guilty and now he was lying to her.


‘But mummy, it’s Lisa, she must have did this…and… I am not a baby!’





‘How dare you try to blame your sister, you will be severely punished for this flagrant naughtiness.’


‘No, really mummy that bloody sister of mine has…’


SLAP!





‘We shall have none of that language you naughty babykins’.



His mother pulls Phillip out of bed, twists his ear until he cries out in pain and marches him into the bathroom. Lisa gleefully follows.





Mummy grabs a washcloth and wets it with hot water, she roughly washes his face causing Phillip to resist and whine about being innocent.


‘So you still won’t admit you are a bad little babykins? So be it. I will clean that fibbing mouth of yours!’





 Taking a bar of soap, she holds it under the warm water, until it is soft and sudsy.





‘Now open that mouth and put that deceitful tongue of yours out at once!’





He knew how angry mummy was but Phillip hesitated just long enough to anger her even more. She pinched his nose as she shoved in the soap. His mother soaped his tongue until he felt sick, then she soaped inside his mouth. The scented soap made him want to gag even more, the soap began to melt, increasing the soap bubbles and suds. The soap broke off into pieces that lodged in his teeth and began to burn his tongue a little. Lisa, meanwhile, laughed silently behind her mother’s back. Phillip tried to tell his mother but she kept telling him not to tell fibs about his sister and that upset him even more. Eventually, as his mother withdrew the soap from his mouth he could not prevent himself from spluttering and spitting up suds all down his winceyette nightie.





Phillip’s mother was not amused as she stripped him right down to his flannelette nappies and hauled him across her lap, Lisa, eager to join in his humiliation helps to unfasten the safety pins and lets the nappies fall away from his bottom.





‘Pee U, you smelly baby!’ she cries in disgust. Phillip hadn’t even realised that during his mouth soaping he had wet his nappies.





‘Ok babykins, you deserve this.’ His mummy said as she rolled up the sleeve of her blouse.





Mummy began to spank, as she had never done before.





Phillip’s bottom became redder and redder. The sound of her hand hitting his sore red bottom were masked by the desperate squeals of pain and protest that billowed from his soap encrusted mouth.





Exhausted from administering such a severe spanking, mummy slips a pair of thick rubber baby pants over Phillip’s flailing legs and orders Phillip to clean the bathroom until it is spotless and put his soiled nightie into the wash.





Lisa’s friend Janice bounded up the stairs, eager to discover what all the commotion was about.





Phillip finished cleaning the his mummy dragged him by the ear back to his bedroom. The curtains were now open and the sun shone brilliantly into the bedroom.





Phillip stood shamefaced before his little sister, her friend and his mum.





Lisa smirked as she spoke, ‘Mum, I think that perhaps Phillip’s bedroom is providing him with too many distractions’





‘Explain please Lisa?’ asked mum curiously.





‘Well, since I am obviously more mature than Phillip, I should be the one to have the large bedroom complete with his TV, DVD player, stereo and computer; and he should be put into the small back bedroom that used to be my nursery”.





Phillip’s anger began to rise as he realised how cleverly Lisa was scheming against him, he knew very well the room Lisa talked about. Situated on the ground floor, Phillip would be within a few feet of the patio area; able to hear everything that went on but helpless whilst tucked up in bed.





‘Think about it mum,’ Lisa continued slyly. ‘You will need lots of peace and quiet so you can rebuild your business that my thoughtless baby brother nearly ruined. Won’t you need to entertain potential clients at the house now you don’t have the office?’





‘Perhaps you are right Lisa. Once in bed, he won’t be able to act cranky and upset my guests. What do you think Janice?’





 ‘Oh yes”, exclaims Janice. “If it were up to me, he’d be in beddybyes where he belong very early each day!”





Lisa, snickering and giggling along with young Janice, continues with her plan to encourage her mother in keeping her brother confined to bed.





‘Of course I will need to relax during the summer after my hard work at school without being disturbed by babykins here. I need time to spend with my friends.’





 Lisa held her breath as her mother thought about her daughter’s suggestions.





‘I agree with everything you have said Lisa, my mind’s made up. Babykins, it’s back into the nursery for you!’





 Until then Phillip had been totally ignored. His anger bubbles to the surface as he splutters, ‘now just a moment, you don’t think that I will agree to this do you. You lot are mad ….’.





‘How dare you speak to us like that Phillip! Get over here this instant’ Mummy grabs him, turning him as she sits down so she can apply another bare hand spankings to his sore behind. After numerous swats, causing him further discomfort and a red bottom, she marches Phillip into the corner of the room.





‘Hands on head you naughty babykins.’ Phillip sobs with shame as he obeys his mummy.





‘Lisa dear will you get baby’s dummy please?’





‘Of course mummy, I would love to!’ Squeals of laughter from both Janice and Lisa assure Phillip that they are fully enjoying his humiliation as Lisa ties his baby’s dummy into place.





 ‘Here you are baby brother, your yummy dummy, freshly filled with delicious castor oil for you to suck on and enjoy. Now, hands on head and stand facing the wall while Janice and I prepare you new bedroom. You will really enjoy spending your days tucked up in there Phillip ha-ha!’





Lisa and Janice rush off giggling leaving Phillip to ponder his fate.





‘Phillip! How wonderful it is to see you being punished so effectively.’ Melissa scornfully said, enjoying her ex-boyfriends humiliation. Your mummy has asked me to get you ready for beddybyes so you can enjoy your new sleepy time bedroom and we can have some peace.’





Melissa loved tormenting the twenty- year-old, who, she had to admit, had broken her heart by two-timing her for an older woman. She turned him to face her and untied the dummy that was now devoid of castor oil.


‘Hmm we shall have to see what other lovely concoction we can fill this with. Won’t we babykins.’


‘Melissa please help me. I’m sorry about what happened but don’t you think I have been punished enough.’


‘My darling you can never be punished enough as long as I am concerned. Now come along, it’s cosy wosy jimmy-jams time again!





Phillip groaned as Melissa showed him the pink candy striped pyjamas that his mother had given her to dress him in.





‘What’s the matter pwecious, does the wittle baby not like his pwetty jim-jams then?’ 



Phillip hated being addressed in baby talk he blushed as Melissa continued.





‘See how soft they are babykins, just the thing for baby’s tender bot-bot.’ Melissa stroked his face with the winceyette pyjama bottoms.





‘Doesn’t my pwecious want to put them on and show Melissa how sweet you look?’





Phillip bowed his head to the floor shaking it silently.


Melissa laughed. ‘Too bad you little two-timing brat!’ Her tone had changed to one of anger.





‘Stand still while I fasten you into this pyjama jacket. You will do as I say or you will be over my knee for another spanking, understand?’





Phillip stood miserably as Melissa buttoned him into the hateful pink pyjama jacket. Even though they were his sister’s pyjamas the jacket was far too big, his hands disappeared, hidden by the length of the long sleeves while the hem hung down way past his rubber pants.


 ‘We can have these off now I think,’ she said, stifling a giggle before pulling down the baby pants until they straddled his ankles.


 ‘Since you don’t want to wear your pyjamas properly you can wear them like this instead!’ Melissa pulled the pyjama bottoms over his head until his face was encased in striped pink winceyette.





‘Melissa, no I …’


‘Be quiet babykins, I am sick of hearing you whinge.’ Melissa used the lengthy pyjama legs to tie around his face until his protests became mere muffled sounds.





‘That’s better, nothing more to say Babykins?’





A mouthful of winceyette produced, ‘Mmmmpf…!’



‘Excellent.’ Happy with her handwork Melissa took Phillip’s hand. ‘Off to beddy-byes now pwecious,’ she said, reverting to baby talk.





Phillip, unable to speak or see and scarcely able to hear thanks to the pyjama bottoms entwined on his head, allowed himself to be led by the hand. Unfortunately the rubber baby-pants were still snuggled around his ankles. Melissa refused to let him step out of them so a sensory deprived Phillip could only shuffle very slowly for fear of falling. 





Melissa led a disorientated Phillip to the room that used to be his sister’s nursery.





Phillip was regaled with loud laughter. He was aware he was in the presence of his tormentors, but with the pyjama bottoms encompassing his head he was at a loss to comprehend exactly what was happening.





‘Ha ha, how splendid!’ Phillip recognised his mother’s voice.





‘Well babykins, Melissa certainly has you under control doesn’t she?’








‘We will leave him like that for the moment; it will prolong the surprise until he sees his new bedroom. Help me get him up here.’





 If Phillip were not blindfolded so effectively he would have seen a trestle table that was covered with layers of soft flannelette sheets. It was onto this he was encouraged to climb upon.





‘I thought this would be ideal as a changing table,’ his mother explained to Melissa.





Melissa laughed, ‘time for babykins to get his lovely soft fluffy nap-naps pinned on then it’s straight to sleepy-byes.’





Phillip shook his head and tried again to speak, ‘mmmmpf!!!!’ It was useless; the pyjamas tied tightly around his face efficiently gagging him.





Melissa began to rub baby oil onto her ex-boyfriend’s groin area, as she did so Phillip started to respond to her touch.





‘Naughty babykins!’ She scolded, ‘those days are long over for you. I have the cure for that sort of behaviour.’





Melissa grabbed a handful of flannelette nappies from the pile that Phillip’s mother had arranged so neatly. Expertly, she folded them and placed them under Phillip’s bottom.





He winced and let out a muffled groan as she pinned them tightly on.


‘What’s the matter pwecious; did Melissa hurt her babykins den?’





The sarcasm in her mock baby talk hurt Phillip even more than the tightly pinned nappies. Rubber baby pants were shuffled up his legs, the elastic on the leg openings gripping tightly into his flesh, adding to his discomfort.





He blinked light into his eyes, as the pyjama bottoms were unfurled from his head. Melissa and his mother stared down at him.





‘Peek-a-boo babykins,’ cooed his mother. ‘Melissa has done an excellent job getting your nappies on ready for bye-byes hasn’t she? We will have to make sure babykins isn’t tempted to be a dirty little boy in future won’t we?’





Phillip was furious. ‘Now look here this has gone too far. I am twenty years old and will not be treated like this. Melissa you are my girlfriend and I order you to unpin my nappies.’





Phillip seemed oblivious at the absurdity of his statement.





‘Ex –girlfriend babykins,’ she said, laughing at his outburst.





His mother slapped his bare leg hard. ‘How dare you speak to us in that tone! I can still report you for theft, have you forgotten that? You will do as you are told or I am prepared to see you go to prison!’





His mother was angry now. She roughly thrust his legs into the candy striped pyjama bottoms and pulled them up around his waist.





Phillip lapsed into silence, only to aware of the truth of his mother’s words.





For the first time he glanced around his new bedroom. The floor was covered in the same pink carpet originally put down when Lisa was a baby. Likewise, the same pink teddy bear wallpaper adorned the walls. At first the room seemed bare apart from the table he lay on, then, directly under the window he noticed it. 





‘No, oh no please not that I beg you mummy…’





Both women laughed.





‘Ha ha, what’s the matter babykins? His mother chortled. ‘It’s perfect for someone of your age. You were always the rightful owner. Come along let’s get you snuggled down.’





Beneath the window stood the cot that had been handmade for Lisa. It had been a family joke that diminutive Phillip should have used it instead of his much taller sister.





Melissa lowered the pink rail and patted the nursery patterned bed cover.





‘Into bye-byes pwecious.’





Phillip’s mother ushered him into the infantile cot, ‘snuggle down babykins, that’s it, good baby.’





Much to his chagrin Phillip fitted easily into the cot, Melissa covered him with three fleecy blankets and pinned them to the bottom sheet. Phillip could barely move and offered no resistance as his mother patted his cheek.





‘Comfy Phillip?’ Soon you will be all alone tucked up in your pink cot wearing your pink pyjamas while we will be only feet away enjoying the pleasant afternoon.   



‘Aw, we wanted to see his face when he saw the cot.’ Lisa and Janice came in each carrying a bundle of Phillip’s nightwear. Huffily they peered at Phillip lying in the cot they had assembled.





‘And you promised we could help get him ready for bed,’ said an upset Lisa. ‘We did all the hard work getting the room ready.’





‘Never mind,’ sympathised her mother, ‘Melissa has devised a delightfully uncomfortable punishment for your brother, find the pyjama bottoms with the drawstring waist, yes the yellow baby duckling ones that Aunty Beatrice made for his birthday.’





Phillip turned pale at the sound of Aunt Beatrice’s name. That was one woman he hoped would stay out of his life.





Curious, Lisa rummaged through the pile and found the pyjama bottoms. They were made of the heaviest, thickest winceyette.





‘Now, put them over his head,’ be still Phillip! Or mummy will spank!





Lisa excitedly placed the pyjama bottoms over her brother’s head. Immediately he felt totally enclosed, he could still see some light penetrating the thick winceyette.





‘That’s it, now draw the two ends of the pyjama cord together and tie them in a bow. Not too tight, we don’t want him to come to any harm.’





More light disappeared as Lisa tied the pyjama bottoms.





‘Good, now take a pyjama leg and wrap it around his head, yes over the eyes is perfect.’





Pyjama bottoms now blindfolded Phillip.





‘This time wrap the other pyjama leg around his mouth and tie off, yes as tight as you can, that won’t cause any serious hurt.’





Pyjama bottoms now gagged Phillip.





Janice and Lisa laughed so much at poor Phillip’s predicament that mother asked Melissa to take the girls outside.





His mother pulled up the side rail of the cot and spoke to Phillip.





‘I have been too soft on you Phillip darling; you require proper discipline to help you mend your ways. I will be too busy this summer to give you the attention you deserve, Melissa has her summer job to go to and Lisa is going to have fun. I shall have to think of another answer.’  





Phillip’s mother left her twenty-year-old son lying in his cot and smiled to herself. She had just come up with the perfect solution.





Lisa turned ashen as her mother told them what she had arranged.





‘Aunt Beatrice is coming? I don’t know about that mum,’ she said taking a large gulp of tea to steady her nerves.





‘Why not? It’s the perfect solution. None of us will have enough time to give Phillip the summer he deserves. She has no ties and jumped at the chance to come and stay. You know how much she enjoyed disciplining Phillip.’



Lisa grimaced, ‘not just Phillip. You left her looking after me also.’



Her mother laughed, ‘don’t worry, I told her that Phillip was to be her only responsibility. You can relax.’



‘That’s what I was worried about,’ said Lisa, calmer now, she made me relax too much too often!’



She and her mother lapsed into a fit of laughter. 



Melissa, her mother and Janice looked at each other. ‘Let us in on the joke then.



Lisa’s mother wiped away a laughter tear. ‘Beatrice is my late husbands aunt, aside from being very strict, she advocates a thorough cleanout every morning if you get my drift. Unfortunately when I had to go away on business Lisa fell victim to her regime as well as Phillip.’


Lisa blushed ‘Yes, well as long as she understands Phillip is the only candidate this time. Does he know yet?’



Mother shook her head then added mischievously. ‘Why don’t you two girls go and stand by his window and ‘discuss’ the matter.’





Lisa and Janice stood by the open window. Phillip was just feet away on the other side.





Janice whispered to Lisa, ‘I have an idea, ‘ she coughed and began to speak in an exaggerated voice.


 


‘Here we see sweet twenty-year-old Phillip, cosily tucked up in his pink cot wearing thick flannelette nappies and gorgeous pink candy striped winceyette pyjamas Exactly what the well dressed babykins must wear this summer. To finish of the ensemble, babykins is protected from the big nasty outside world by wearing a pair of pyjama bottoms around his head ensuring he can neither see nor speak no evil.


Made from the finest extra thick winceyette they are bright yellow and decorated with the cutest little ducklings one could imagine and designed by Aunt Beatrice herself no less.’

Phillip had nodded off. Muffled voices disturbed him. He tried to sit up but the pins that held his fleecy blankets were secured to perfection. His body was encased in his sisters pink pyjamas and every breath he took filled his mouth with thick winceyette. If he turned his head to the right he could just perceive flickering daylight as the curtain moved in the breeze thanks to the slightly open window.





After the murmur of two voices one single voice became clear; a teasing voice he recognised as Janice’s.





Lisa stifled her giggles. ‘He’s awake. I can hear movement. Let me have a turn.’





She raised her voice. ‘An Aunt Beatrice original you say. Well wouldn’t it be splendid if we could see more of her creations being modelled by our own dear babykins.’





‘Well it just so happens that we will. As luck would have it, Aunt Beatrice has answered an emergency call from babykins mummy and even as we speak is dashing across town to lavish lot’s of care and attention on pwecious babykins for the rest of the summer.’






Friday, 9 March 2012

Two sisters ensure their brother is kept under control by nanny


Leslie



Charlotte and Jane sat beside the glowing log fire adding the finishing touches to the presents around the Christmas tree. ‘Do you think he will appreciate it?’ asked Jane. ‘I doubt it,’ giggled Charlotte, ‘but I am looking forward to seeing his reaction.’ The sisters paused from their task to chink glasses. What a year it had been…

This time last year the family firm was heading for disaster under the mismanagement of their younger brother, Leslie. Goodness knows what their late father had been thinking leaving the business in his hands. He was far too young and immature to bear such a responsibility. In a short space of time the ‘Little Dictator’ as he was known, had upset the entire workforce. In fact they had come to the conclusion that it was his lack of stature, he was only just over five-foot tall, which had contributed to his unreasonable behaviour. The company was on the brink of bankruptcy; something definitely had to be done.

Being somewhat older than Leslie they had seen his peculiar behaviour as a child and had Nanny’s confirmation of their suspicions. They knew about his little predilection.

His treatment of Nanny had been the final straw.  Perhaps it was because of what she knew that Leslie had ordered her out of the grace-and-favour rooms Father had allocated her, in gratitude for years of loyal service, first as housekeeper, then as Leslie’s Nanny.

It had not been too difficult getting Nanny to let them utilise the photographs she had in her possession. Leslie was ‘persuaded’ to re-consider his position at the firm. Charlotte and Jane refilled their glasses and raised them once again.

Upstairs, Nanny was busy. ‘Come along pet lamb, it’s time for your bath, I want you to be in beddy-byes before Santa comes’ She lifted up Leslie’s arms and removed the velvet, short-sleeved lemon dress. It was one of Nanny’s favourites; trimmed with white eyelet trim, it had a neat, high neck ruffled collar, and ties in the back. Next she removed the soft chiffon ruffled slip, took the lemon ribbon hair bow out of Leslie’s hair, and slipped off the white eyelet-trimmed socks.

‘Didn’t you look pretty today, Nanny's little baby lamb?’ she cooed as she gently helped Leslie into the bath. Leslie stared back at her with rather empty, emotionless eyes but nevertheless replied in the manner Nanny required: ‘Yes, I was ever so pwetty Nanny.’

Nanny took her time bathing Leslie, not least because she knew how much her little charge hated the humiliation of being bathed by her. She smothered Leslie in the scented suds, and ensured that his smooth hairless body was scrubbed thoroughly clean.

In the nursery, Nanny's rule was absolute; woe betides Leslie if there was the slightest sign of misbehaviour or disobedience. Nanny began to towel Leslie dry.

‘Ouch you're hurting.’ Leslie flashed a worried glance at Nanny. The words had just slipped out. Nanny paused for a second. ‘Now - time for Baby Leslie to put a cosy nightie on,’ she said, wagging her finger at him.

Leslie looked even more flustered; being called 'Baby Leslie' by Nanny was worrying, what could she mean? Nanny slipped the nightdress over Leslie’s head. Leslie quite liked the sensation of the soft winceyette material next to his freshly bathed skin, but the little pink rosebud flowers that adorned the nightie were a different matter.

Leslie used to enjoy dressing up in pretty dresses for a few hours a week, but he had never wanted his ‘hobby’ to become permanent. He hated having to wear girlish nighties and pyjamas and being put to bed ridiculously early, as if he were a real little girl.

Nanny buttoned up the nightie, and smoothed down the Peter Pan collar. ‘Pretty as a picture my pet lamb. Lets get your hair brushed now.’ Leslie enjoyed the feeling of Nanny’s hand following each stroke of the brush, and wished it would never end, but Nanny stopped abruptly, and turned Leslie to face her.

‘Did you think I had forgotten your little outburst? Nanny’s got just the punishment for little babies like you.’ Leslie’s face flushed as Nanny lifted the nightdress and smacked the back of Leslie’s legs.

‘Come along now little lamb, it's nappy time for you, Babykins.’ Leslie was horrified as Nanny pinned on thick, white fluffy nappies and pulled on pink plastic baby pants that rustled noisily as Nanny positioned them snugly on top of Leslie’s nappies. Nanny stood a tearful Leslie up, and the nightie cascaded to the floor in a cloud of winceyette.

‘Nanny hasn’t finished yet Babykins, now open wide.’ Nanny popped the pink dummy into the mouth of the astonished Leslie. ‘If that comes out without my permission it’s a spanking for you Babykins,’ she warned. ‘And this is the finishing touch.’ Nanny deftly placed a flounced, be-ribboned mop-sleeping cap on Leslie’s head; being made from the same floral winceyette, it matched Leslie’s nightie perfectly.

Nanny stood Leslie in front of the mirror. ‘See what you’ve become Leslie, a little baby in nappies and a nightie, sucking on its dum-dum, and wearing a bedtime nightcap. Nanny is the one in charge now, so you had better learn to behave and do as Nanny says, understand Babykins?’ Tears rolled down an already tear-stained cheek as Leslie slowly realised what Nanny was telling him.

‘Yes that’s right Leslie, my Christmas gift to you is a return to your babyhood. From now on I will treat you as Nanny’s baby girl, you will wear nappies and baby pants at all times, suck on your dummy and be put to bed at five o’clock each evening. From tomorrow you will wear short baby dresses. This is the one you will wear for Christmas lunch tomorrow.’

Nanny held up the red velvet, long-sleeved baby dress made especially for Leslie. Generously trimmed on the hem and cuffs with white lace, the large white collar was embroidered with the words, 'Merry Christmas Babykins'. When Nanny showed him the matching pantaloons, holding them up by the elasticised waist, she pronounced that Leslie would be, ‘Nanny’s Babykins princess tomorrow,’ and she gave him a little kiss on his furiously blushing cheek. Leslie sucked hard on his dummy, distraught at the thought of wearing such a babyish outfit.
 
Downstairs Charlotte and Jane talked, as the weak afternoon sun gave way to the early dusk of winter. It had been a simple matter to legally take over the firm thanks to Nanny; the two new cars parked on the drive bore witness to their immediate success in restoring the company’s competitiveness. But how would they deal with Leslie? He was too much of a loose cannon to be left to his own devices, and any role in the company could be ruled out.

It had been Nanny who suggested she should return to, ‘look after their brother’ and, to use her own words, ‘make sure he doesn’t cause any more mischief.’ Confronted with Nanny’s photographs and the threat of a tabloid exposure, Leslie had meekly acquiesced in relinquishing control of the firm. As far as the world was concerned Leslie had crumbled under the pressure of work and had sought refuge in warmer climes; Australia it was rumoured. Just another victim of work related stress.

Nanny held Leslie’s hand as they descended the wide, richly carpeted staircase. The sisters ended their conversation and watched as the two figures approached. One figure immaculately turned out in full nanny's uniform, the pristine, starched white apron in stark contrast to the black austere dress that juxtaposed so neatly behind it. The other, a picture of bewilderment, clutching reluctantly at Nanny’s hand, in the other arm hugging a fluffy white teddy bear, and sucking very self-consciously on a pink baby’s dummy.

‘Leslie, how adorable you look, and all ready for beddy-byes too, I see. What a very pretty nightie you’re wearing, I bet that keeps you lovely and warm - and such a sweet little nightcap!’ Charlotte took her brother onto her lap and heard the telltale rustle of baby pants.  Lifting up Leslie’s nightie, she exposed his nappies and plastic pants.

‘I see you have begun to put into practice what we discussed Nanny; we are so looking forward to seeing him in his pretty baby outfits. Will he be dressed accordingly for Christmas lunch tomorrow?’

‘Indeed Miss Charlotte,’ Nanny replied, ‘Baby Leslie is very excited about his new clothes aren’t you my sweet?’

Nanny gave the humiliated Leslie a stern look of warning as his hand ventured momentarily toward his dummy, his hope of rescue from his baby plight by his sisters dashed. His sisters knew Nanny had planned his return to babyhood. He slumped back in despair into the comforting bosom of his eldest sister.

‘Nanny, we are not keeping Leslie up too late are we?’ asked Jane, who was watching Leslie’s eyes start to droop as Charlotte nursed him. He had grown accustomed to being put to bed early, and infuriatingly for him he struggled to stay awake at times.

 ‘I really should take the little sleepyhead up to his beddy-byes shortly,’ Nanny mused.

‘We will give him his present, then you can take him up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire,’ Jane said, taking the drowsy Leslie by the hand and leading him toward the Christmas tree.

‘Now Baby Leslie, I know you have seen our new shiny cars and how much you used to like having one of your own, so we have decided to let you have this special present early.’

Leslie’s eyes were suddenly wide-awake as he thought for a moment his nightmare was ending. Then he saw it. In front of him was a toy pedal car. Moulded out of pink plastic it was the ultimate humiliation.

‘Look,’ gloated Jane, ‘it even has a personalised number plate.’ Leslie just had time to see the inscription, ‘BABY LESLEY 1’ before he was pushed into the toy. ‘Let us see you drive your new car, baby brother,’ urged his sister, as he reluctantly began to pedal the demeaning gift.

‘Well done Babykins!’ she clapped her hands with delight at the sight of her brother pedalling the babyish toy.

 Much to Charlotte’s dismay Nanny spoke: ‘Well, I think that’s enough excitement for one little babykins, time for bye-byes, sugar plum.’ Charlotte enjoyed seeing Leslie so firmly under Nanny’s control, and she was delighted that her brother was confined in nappies and nighties.

Nanny removed Leslie’s dummy. ‘Say goodnight to your sisters Baby Leslie, and say thank you for your lovely present.’ she prompted. Leslie pinched the seams of his nightie and gave a neat little curtsey as Nanny had taught, ‘Night-night, and thank you for my lovely prethent,’ he lisped and gave each sister a kiss on their proffered cheeks.

Charlotte and Jane could only admire Nanny’s disciplinary methods, and they watched, half in disbelief, as their brother toddled unsteadily up to bed clutching Nanny’s hand.

Nanny ushered Leslie into the nursery. He was looking forward to climbing into his lovely bed, made up with frilled pink pillowcases and matching sheets.

What a shock he got. His bed was gone and in its place was a baby’s cot. Pink painted rails and bunny rabbit motifs decorated the infantile sleeping place. Nanny lay Leslie down onto the pink flannelette sheet that covered the mattress. ‘Babies don’t have pillows and this fleecy baby blanket should be enough for you, with that cosy nightie on,’ Nanny said sternly as Leslie squirmed in the unfamiliar surroundings. ‘Baby will soon get used to his new cot, after all you will be spending a lot of time here what with your naps and early bed times.’

Nanny drew on a cord sewn into the hem of Leslie’s nightie and he found himself encased in a snuggle bag of thick winceyette. ‘Baby can’t climb out of its cot now, can she? She mocked with a wink, as Leslie kicked his legs helplessly in a futile attempt to escape his winceyette prison, ‘and if Baby tries, she is going to get a smacked bottom.’ Leslie was totally bewildered by this change in his circumstance and started to cry.

Nanny was unsympathetic. She pulled up the cot rail.

‘You treated me most unfairly and unkindly when you evicted me from my home, Leslie.  Now I can have you as my own sweet Babykins – what do you think of that, my little lamb?  You sisters approve of my action so you can forget about ever returning to your former life. You will become my baby girl, using a potty and gurgling like a real baby. The fact that you hate wearing nappies and baby clothes matters not at all to me, you are mine to dress and treat as I like.’

Nanny tweaked Leslie’s ear to make sure he was listening to her. She wanted him to be very certain of what his life would be like from now on.

‘Oo Nanny that hurt.’

‘That’s just the start pet lamb,’

Nanny continued, ‘you will follow a strict routine.  Naptime in the morning will be at ten until ten-thirty; in the afternoon I will change you into your soft baby nightie and put you down for the night at four o’clock at the latest seven days a week. If you misbehave in any way you will be spanked and put to bed immediately. When I take you out visiting you will always be dressed ready for beddy-byes encased in your pretty nightie’s and sucking your dummy so my friends can enjoy your humiliation. You will only be able to crawl around our feet gurgling sweetly like the baby you are.’

Leslie stared up at Nanny from his cot in fear and disbelief.

‘Nanny please don’t do this I beg….’

Nanny didn’t even wait to hear his pathetic pleadings; she thrust his dummy into his mouth.

‘That’s the last time I expect to hear grown up talk from you babykins,’ she scolded, ‘it’s lisping baby girl talk from now or nothing. I can quite easily tie that dummy in place all day if need be. If you disobey you will find yourself over my knee.’

Nanny had finally gotten it off her chest, the anger and sense of injustice she had felt had disappeared, now she could concentrate on ensuring Leslie became a doting, dependent baby who would need to have his big fleecy nappies changed, and be cared for by Nanny, for a long, long time to come.




Friday, 2 March 2012

Your early bedtime ritual


You stand, hands on head facing the wall. Tingly clean from the bath you have just been given you are acutely conscious of the thick, snowy white nappies that confine and embrace your cuckolded manhood. To your left you can see her reflection in the mirror.
Nanny is always immaculately dressed. Her black hair is severely tied back enhancing her austere, strict demeanour. The white starched collar of her blouse peeks out over the neckline of her long black dress. The cuffs of her blouse are similarly starched and buttoned, extending exactly one inch from the sleeves of her dress. Her frilly white apron is rigid with starch and on the bibbed front is pinned a nurses watch. She irons methodically, concentration absolute as she defies creases to disobey her.
She is aware you are watching her through the mirror and crooks a finger at you.
You turn to face her taking two steps forward. She delicately slips her hands into the white, soft cotton flannelette nightdress and motions you to lift your arms. She swaps her arms for yours as she eases first your hands then your head into the nightdress.
Momentarily it rests on your shoulders and you can feel the transfer of warmth from the iron. Then, as she gently eases the nightdress past your shoulders it cascades lovingly down to encompass you. There is a sharp intake of breath from you as the nightdress envelops your body. The softness of the pure white flannelette caress's your chest, your arms, and your legs. It even extends down to your ankles until finally the material rests gently upon your feet. Nanny fastens the four buttons that encases your neck in the flannelette. She reaches around behind you and raises the deliberately starched frilly lace collar until it resides perfectly positioned to irritate and tickle your chin. She takes your left arm and draws the sleeve down toward her until the elastic threaded in the cuff firmly grips your wrist, then flounces out the exaggerated lace frill on the cuff until she is satisfied with its appearance. She repeats the process with your right arm, except this time your hand is slipped into a pink, lambs wool mitten. Carefully she draws the threaded ribbon together until you feel the pressure on your wrist. She wraps the ribbon around the mitten three times before she ties a double bow, gently easing each side of the bow until they are exactly each size. She repeats the procedure with your other hand and as she completes the procedure you realise that you cannot move a finger no matter how hard you try, the slightest wiggle is beyond you.
Nanny turns your head. In her hand you see her holding one of your greatest dislikes about bedtime punishment. Your eyes are afraid and you give a small almost imperceptible shake of the head. Nanny ignores your insignificant protest and doesn't hesitate to place the earplugs firmly into each of your ears. No sooner has she done this than your night bonnet is fitted. Made from the same white cotton flannelette as your nightdress, Nanny slips it onto the back of your head. It feels tight. Nanny has sewn an extra large frill around the bonnet and starched it to create a peek-a-boo style night bonnet. Teasing it forward, the ribbon lengths that tie the bonnet rest loosely on the frilled bodice of your nightdress. Nanny manoeuvres and tweaks the bonnet until it is positioned exactly where she requires it. Your peripheral vision is now nonexistent as the night bonnet is fixed into place; all you are aware of are white frills.
Now from Nanny's apron pocket comes your dummy. She pins it to the frilled bodice of your nightdress and you swallow hard, taking what you anticipate to be your last meaningful gulp of air for many a long hour. Instead she lets it hang by its ribbon, you can feel it dangling threateningly against your chest but you cannot see it.
Nanny places a firm hand in the small of your back, pressing the flannelette against your skin as she directs you with a pointed finger toward the bed. All you can see is what appears to be the vast desert of a white, starched cotton sheet. Taking four steps forward, the flannelette material of your nightdress swishes first against your calf's, then at your next step against your thighs and legs. You tremors slightly as you sit on the side of the bed as directed by Nanny. Her hands embrace your ankles and you are swivelled onto the bed. Your head is lowered into a sea of white cotton, the odour of fresh starch fills your nasal passages and you feel as if you are lying on an unyielding solid block of crisp starched cotton as your feet and toes explore the tactile sensation. Not for long however do your feet enjoy their sensory experience. As you stare past the frills of your night bonnet at the ceiling, Nanny's hands put a stop to the exploring tendency of your feet. You feel Nanny pull your nightdress down past your ankles and feet and the crepe bandage being wound around the nightdress encompassing your ankles in the flannelette. Five times she encircles them before the ends of the bandage are slipped skilfully under and over each other to ensure no slippage. Experimentally you try and separate your ankles to no avail but for the moment you can move them as one unit from side to side and you do so gleefully, enjoying the combination of nightdress flannelette rubbing against starched cotton sheet. From past experience you know this freedom is only temporary. You can envisage the ends of the bandage being secured to the metal bed end.  Soon your feet are immobile, encased in flannelette and securely tied. Then you feel the tightness upon your chest. Now there is no escape from your bedtime ordeal. Three times you count the bandage encircling you. You are aware of Nanny reaching underneath the bed until suddenly the bandage is tightened and it becomes more difficult to breathe. You attempt to sit up but all you can manage is to lift your head a few inches from the white cotton pillowcase. Now comes the dummy. Nanny places the teat of the dummy against your lips but in a fruitless act of defiance you keep them tight together and shake your head inside your night bonnet. Impassively Nanny squeezes your cheeks and as you involuntarily open your mouth the teat of the dummy slips inside your mouth. Nanny holds it in place as she pumps away at the rubber valve. You feel the bulb inside your mouth expand, depressing your tongue and filling your mouth. Instinctively you try to expel the dummy but it is already too late. Nanny has inflated it perfectly. You breathe in, and even with the constraint of the chest bandage securing you to the bed you manage to intake air through the dummy. The few seconds of panic are over as you realise you can breathe as long as you remain calm. Nanny's heels click to the end of the bed. Directly above you, your limited vision is confronted with the sight of a white cotton flannelette sheet floating down toward you. You have an image of Nanny standing at the bottom of the bed and launching the sheet into the air. It settles upon you like a shroud, covering your face and you breathe slightly more quickly as you are deprived of external air. You can feel Nanny working her way up toward you, the mattress lifts slightly as she tucks in the sheet. She is very close now but still your face is encased in flannelette. You gasp for air again as you feel the weight of the eiderdown crashing upon you. It too is worked its way under the mattress by Nanny until you sense she is right beside you. You are lifted up as the eiderdown is tucked securely in; you are now without doubt pinioned to the bed. Without hope of release until Nanny has decided otherwise. You know this will not be anytime soon. The flannelette is removed from your face and cool air hits you. Nanny turns it back, neatly creating an edge to the eiderdown. The flannelette sheet is positioned under your chin and Nanny is suddenly staring down at you through the frills of your night bonnet, tweaking and adjusting the frills to her satisfaction. You can read her watch as she fusses with your bonnet, ten past three. You suck heavily on your dummy as you digest the time. Nanny moves out of view again and now the room darkens. The curtains are drawn and hermetically sealed. A pinpoint of light from Nanny's torch blinds your eyes for a second then it is gone. Your vision is confused and you wait for a moment for it to adjust. Then you realise you are alone. The darkness is all pervading and you realise your eyes cannot adapt to complete darkness. Your ear- plugs confine your aural abilities to the sound of your heartbeat, your attempt to breathe rhythmically through your dummy and the imaginary clock in your head that begins to tick away the long hours of silence and darkness that engulf you.