Peters Pink Pyjamas. An unruly boy tamed by his babysitter and younger sister

Peter barely looked up as Miss Kettering entered the room. He was in his favourite position, lounging length ways on the sofa, his dirty trainer’s imprinting muddy foot-marks on the fabric while the gel on his hair stained the sofa arm.

Robert turned lazily and gave the woman a disdainful stare. To Peter’s young eyes Miss Kettering was an old woman yet she only in her early fifties. She was tall, over six foot and her figure could be described as matronly. She stared at the lounging Peter from behind her old-fashioned spectacles; her grey hair was severely tied back into a bun, clearly exposing the lines upon her face.

She wore a frilled white blouse fastened at the neck and draped loosely over the blouse was a grey cardigan. The fluffy woollen cardigan had two enormous pockets in which Peter imagined she kept out of date packets of mints that she would present to unsuspecting young children. Gazing down at her feet he was not surprised to see her wearing her pair of pink furry slippers that were perhaps, a little too well worn.  

He turned away and resumed his slouched position.

His mother had no right to impose this woman on him while she visited his grandmother. Perhaps she had remembered the mess and the complaints from the neighbours the last time she had only been away; it had only been for one night but it had been a mistake to assume responsibility would make Peter act like the fifteen year old he was instead of a spoilt child.

‘I don’t know how long I will be away for,’ his mother had said, ‘your Grandmother is not at all well and I expect you to do as you are told. In fact I am confident you will obey Miss Kettering’s every wish.’ His mother has said rather strangely as she had kissed him goodbye.

‘Yeah right,’ he had sneered. As far as he was concerned Miss Kettering was there only to provide food and to keep his sister out of his way.

Peter was not well disposed toward his sister. His mother was always saying, ‘why can’t you behave more like your sister,’ and ‘your sister doesn’t get low marks at school.’

His sister had an annoying habit of looking down at him with a certain disdain that made him feel uncomfortable. There was another reason to avoid her, at fourteen Tara was already four inches taller than he was and she enjoyed teasing him about his lack of inches at break time at school and introducing him as her little brother to her friends to embarrass him

Still, he thought glancing at his watch, six o’clock on a Friday evening, time to go and meet up with his friends.

As he got up to leave Miss Kettering stood in front of him.  Until then he hadn’t realised how tall she was, previously she seemed to have shuffled around in her ill-fitting slippers.

Now that she was standing to her full height Peter had to look upwards to flippantly remark, ‘excuse me but I think you are in my way.’

Miss Kettering smiled down at him and putting one hand on his shoulder said,’ I think it’s high time you had a wash Peter, why don’t you go upstairs and get undressed and Miss Kettering will run you a lovely warm bath.’

Peter stared up at her, barely believing what he had heard. He made to brush past her, choosing to ignore her inane comment. As he made his move Miss Kettering slid her hand down his arm, grasped his wrist and sat down on the sofa. Off balance, he tottered sideways and fell conveniently to find himself draped over her lap. Peter was wearing a pair of fashionable combat trousers but they easily lost the battle with Miss Kettering as she lowered them to expose his bare bottom.

Peter struggled to remove himself from his embarrassing position but his arm was pinioned up behind his back.

‘Let me go. I will tell my mum on you!’

Peter’s childish retort made Miss Kettering smile. ‘Don’t you know it’s rude to tell tales,’ she said as she gave his bottom a swat with her hand.

‘Ow! Stop it that hurts!’

‘If that tiny slap hurt I’m afraid you are in for a shock pet lamb.’

She swatted his backside six more times with her hand. By the third swat Peter had been begging her to stop and writhing and squirming on her lap. Miss Kettering had paused the spanking but still held Peter firmly across her knee and she could hear him breathing heavily and quietly sobbing. ‘Are you regretting being so impolite yet Peter?’ She asked as she gently ran her hand across his bright pink bottom.

‘Yes I’m regretting it, not!’ Even though his bottom was stinging he had recovered a little of his bravado.

Miss Kettering removed one of her slippers and smiled at the watching Tara. ‘Oh dear,’ she sighed. ‘I so didn’t want to have to do this.’

Peter’s body lurched upwards the first time the rubber sole made contact with his bottom, so much so that it took all of Miss Kettering’s skill and expertise to keep him across her lap.

By the time the tenth one had been delivered Peter was a crying, sobbing, quivering wreck.

‘I …hate you both,’ he sobbed in embarrassment as he hastily pulled up his underwear and trousers before running out of the room.

Tara giggled. ….

‘Did you manage alright dear?’ Asked Miss Kettering.

‘Oh yes Miss Kettering perfect, I’ve put all his friends numbers onto this one Do you want to see?’ Tara held up Miss Kettering’s mobile phone.

‘No dear, I prefer to leave all that new technology to you young people, I can’t fathom all those buttons and things. I prefer to concentrate on the buttons that ensure naughty boys are dressed correctly when I put them to bed! Now off you go.’

Peter was sitting on a wall at the corner of the street; he was talking to a boy known as Jono, Tara didn’t know his real name but she knew Peter was choosing his friends badly.

‘What do you want? Peter said sourly as Tara approached.

‘Miss Kettering wants you to come home at once,’ she told him.

‘Or what happens?’ He smirked at Jono as he spoke.

‘Well don’t say I didn’t tell you.’ She warned. As Tara turned away toward home she pressed a button on the mobile.

Peter’s phone beeped, he looked at the message. It read. Peter, come home for your bath at once or your friend will see this.

Then came a five-second clip of Peter’s spanking.

‘What’s up?’ Asked Jono; trying to peer at Peters phone. ‘Oh it’s nothing, I will….’

Jono interrupted him, ‘I’ve got a message now,’ he said fumbling in his pocket as his phone signalled a new message.

Peter closed his eyes, dreading what was on his friends phone.’

‘Don’t know who this is, do you?’ He asked. ‘Someone called Miss Kettering asking if I was alone yet. Weird.’

Peter jumped down from the wall. ‘Just remembered something, got to dash.’

Miss Kettering turned off the bath taps as the soapy bubbles threatened to spill over the edge. She watched patiently as Peter undressed.

‘Just test the water with your tootsies first, that’s right, now in you get and Miss Kettering will make sure you’re all nice and clean for beddy-byes.’

Somewhat in a daze, Peter climbed into the bath trying desperately to cover what he deemed to be his manhood.

‘That’s a good boy, don’t worry, Miss Kettering has seen plenty of naked little boys before.

‘I’m not a little boy!’ He exclaimed, fighting back tears.

Miss Kettering smiled. ‘Mustn’t splash Miss Kettering,’ she said as she approached him with a large flannel, I know how excited little boys get at bath time. First things first, time for a mouth soaping to clean that potty mouth out I think pet lamb. Before Peter had a chance to respond, the soapy flannel was inserted into his mouth, gagging him as Miss Kettering began to give his mouth a vigorous soaping.

For the next ten minutes Miss Kettering explored and cleaned regions that had not seen soap for too long a time. His hair was divested of all the gel and glutinous substances he had inflicted upon it until finally she pulled out the bath plug and ushered him out of the bathtub whilst wrapping a large fluffy white towel around him.

‘There, all shiny and pink like little boys are supposed to be.

Downstairs Miss Kettering patted the seat of a dining chair. ‘Now sit here, there’s a good boy.’

Miss Kettering placed a bowl over his head.

‘Time for your haircut, hush now, unless you want your little friends to see your encounter with Miss Kettering’s spanking hand.’

Peter’s protests were stifled immediately. Miss Kettering wielded the scissors and seconds later Peter was the not so proud owner of the kind of haircut that many a five your old would have been disappointed to have.

‘Don’t you look sweet, much better than before, now, let’s get you into your pyjamas.’

I don’t have any pyjamas, so I can hardly wear them can I.’ Peter said defiantly.

‘Well you do now!’ Tara was holding a pair of her pyjamas she had grown out of, they were bright pink and had frilly cuffs and a frilly neckline.

‘There’re your pyjamas not mine,’ he blurted absurdly.

Tara grinned, ‘really then take a look at this.’ She held up the pyjama top, embroidered in red were the words, Peters Pyjamas.

‘I took the pyjama top to school and asked Miss Langley to help me.’

Peter’s head swam; Miss Langley was his form teacher and all the boys had a crush on her.

‘She helped you; she saw my name go on those pyjamas?

‘Yes. I told her it was a joke I was playing, she just laughed.

Miss Kettering took the pyjamas. ‘I see you have ironed them nicely too Tara, just as I asked. You are a great help to me.’ Tara flushed with pride. Looking at Peter she said, ‘anything to help my little brother.’

Miss Kettering unbuttoned the pyjama jacket; she held it up and away from her by the shoulders and gave it a small shake.

‘Into your pyjamas now Peter It’s almost your bedtime.’

Responding almost automatically to Miss Kettering’s movement, Peter slipped his arms into the pyjama jacket and stood compliantly uncomplaining as Miss Kettering buttoned up the pyjamas.

Peter felt the warmth from the iron in the soft material as he was enveloped in pink winceyette. Miss Kettering took her time doing up the small Mother of Pearl buttons and made sure the top button was securely fastened before picking up the pyjama bottoms.

‘Step!’

Peter once again reacted to Miss Kettering’s voice and placed his feet inside the proffered opening. Miss Kettering drew the pyjama bottoms up his legs and positioned the elasticised waistband lightly around his midriff. The pyjama bottoms were still quite hot and he failed to disguise displaying his enjoyment at the sensation he felt as the warm winceyette material caressed his groin.

‘I think your little brother enjoys wearing his new pyjamas Tara.’

Tara laughed, ‘I think he does too Miss Kettering although it is only a small display. Perhaps we should show all his friends what Peter wears to beddy-byes.’

‘Well let’s get his slippers on first before we take more pictures shall we? We can’t have my pet lamb having cold tootsies.’

Peter was aghast as Miss Kettering made him put his feet into the yellow bunny rabbit slippers that had also belonged to Tara.

Before he could react Tara had pointed the mobile at him. ‘Oh, that’s a good one, look Peter aren’t you sweet in your pink pyjamas.’

Peter blushed furiously as Tara played back the clip of him being dressed in the pink pyjamas.

Miss Kettering took Peter onto her lap and cuddled him tightly. She gently rubbed the sleeve of his pyjamas and kissed the top of his head.

‘You see Tara, once an unruly boy is snugly dressed in a pair of girls pyjamas they calm down at once and become Miss Kettering’s little pet lamb. Aren’t you my sweet?’

She lifted Peters chin with the crook of her finger as she addressed him.

‘Answer Miss Kettering pet lamb.’

Poor Peter was so bewildered he wasn’t sure what to say. Instead he just nodded his head, and then, as he saw Tara looking at him with glee at his predicament he buried his face childishly into Miss Kettering’s fluffy cardigan.

‘Oh. Is my pet lamb tired then? It is way past your beddy-byes time. Miss Kettering wants you to get plenty of sleep. That will mean bed at six o’clock every school night. At the weekends I will keep you dressed in your sister's pink winceyette pyjamas so I can pop you into bed when I think you need a nap.’

Peter started to protest, tears welling in his eyes ‘but Miss Kettering please doesn’t make me wear Tara’s pyjamas and put me to bed early. I promise to behave.’

Miss Kettering sighed, I’m afraid it’s too late for promises, pyjama punishment and early bedtimes is your future. It’s quite simple my pet lamb, when you come in from school there will be five steps to bedtime. One, pyjama time, that’s straight into freshly ironed little girls pyjamas as soon as you get home, two, homework time, you sit in your pyjamas doing your homework. Three, suppertime, when I will give you a healthy meal with plenty of vegetables, there will be no more of this fast-food nonsense. Four, quiet time before you go to bed, this will usually be spent sitting on Miss Kettering’s lap just like now with plenty of hugs and cuddles until, five, sleepy-byes time, that means tucked up in beddy-byes by six at the very latest.’ Peter struggled to leave Miss Kettering’s lap, ‘no I won’t, I wont do it.’ He shouted and squirmed on Miss Kettering’s lap. Miss Kettering merely chuckled and drew Peter closer to her tightening her grip. ‘Did I mention that I would be collecting you from the school gates every afternoon

Tara was beside herself with joy. She had always wanted to see her brother spanked and put to bed early and now her wish had come true. Peter’s bedtime schedule would give her plenty of opportunities to humiliate him, she thought as she watched him squirm uncomfortably on Miss Kettering’s lap. The news of his bedtime routine had upset him so much that he was again sobbing gently as Miss Kettering tried to comfort the fifteen year old.

Miss Kettering took Peter by the hand, ‘come along since you are being so cranky I think it’s time you were in bed, it’s an early bedtime for you pet lamb.’

Tara watched as Miss Kettering led Peter, shuffling alongside her in his yellow bunny slippers and pink winceyette pyjamas, upstairs to bed. This was too good to miss and Tara was following quickly behind when Peter's mobile jingled into life with one of those absurd ringtones.

Tara picked it up, a malicious smile spread across her face; she was going to enjoy this.

‘Peter? Oh no. He won’t be available tonight. Why? Because he is ready for bed, that’s why. Yes, that’s right, ready for bed, as in wearing his pyjamas and slippers.’

Tara resisted the temptation to describe the pyjamas Peter was wearing.

‘No you can’t speak to him. Actually it is his bedtime, I think he is in bed now. Of course he has a bedtime didn’t you know? Peter has to be in his jim-jams and tucked up in beddy-byes early or he gets terribly cranky. Yes I will tell him you called, bye.’

Tara shook with excitement. Jenny Phillips had sounded very puzzled by their conversation. Peter had fancied her for ages and had tried to worm his way into her affections by asking her to help study together.

Tara imagined it would be very amusing to listen to Peter’s explanation next time they met.

By the time Tara dashed upstairs, an amazing sight met her. Peter’s TV, DVD and Hi-fi had all been removed to the sanctuary of Miss Kettering’s room, meanwhile Miss Kettering had stripped his bed and was busy re-making it while Peter stood facing the bedroom wall with his hands on his head!

‘Tara, help me with this bedding will you? Your brother had a little tantrum so he has had a smacked botty again and is being punished in a suitably childish way.’

Together they made up Peter’s bed with pale pink, brushed cotton sheets, one bottom sheet and one top sheet. Tara was quite envious as she felt how soft and fluffy the pillowcases were as she slipped them onto the pillows.

‘Come along Mr Sleepyhead, into beddy-byes with you.’

Peter obediently climbed into bed, altogether a different boy from a few hours ago.

‘That’s right snuggle down.’ Peter’s head sank into the softness of the brushed cotton pillowcase. Miss Kettering placed four fleecy woollen blankets on top of the pink sheet and added an old fashioned heavy quilt. She tucked everything in tightly until she was satisfied Peter was securely bed-fast before covering the whole ensemble with a gaily-patterned bedspread featuring various nursery rhyme characters.

‘Don’t you feel all cosy-wosy pet lamb,’ Miss Kettering said to Peter in her best baby talk voice. ‘You will be able to have a lovely long sleepy-byes now sweetheart and don’t worry if you wake up and feel frightened of the dark. Miss Kettering will be straight along to soothe her little boy with a cuddle and a hug thanks to this baby monitor I have set up. See? Just one little sound and I shall be in to see you. Of course if I find you out of beddy-byes without permission it will be smacked botty time again, do you understand?’

Peter managed a little nod of his head. Tara enjoyed herself by gently tucking the pink, brushed cotton sheet under his chin and giving his cheek a peck on the cheek. ‘Nighty-night little brother,’ she teased, ‘it’s seven’ clock now. You should have been fast asleep an hour ago, no wonder you are so cranky.’

She couldn’t resist one final remark. ‘Oh, by the way Jenny Phillips rang while you were being spanked; I told her you were being put to bed.’

Peter’s eyes opened wide with fright and his mouth struggled to find words of protest.

Miss Kettering fumbled in the pocket of her fluffy cardigan.

‘Miss Kettering has a little treat surprise for Peter,’ she said and popped a pink baby’s dummy into his surprised mouth as he was about to speak. Gently she lifted his head from the pillow and secured the dummy with a pink ribbon.

Miss Kettering ignored Peter’s muffled whimpers as she blotted out the daylight by closing the bedroom curtains.

‘Come along Tara, time you were in your pyjamas too.’

As the door closed, Peter blinked away tears and stared into the darkness.