Luc's new story. A wife imposes early bedtime and nightie discipline on her husband and his friends wife is very impressed.

My friend John and I worked together. We went to the pub, watched the football, and chatted up women, even though we were both married. Things changed when John got caught cheating. He was the picked up in their car every night  by his wife Marion.. At the weekend I never saw him, and whenever I phoned, she would answer and always say that he was not able to come to the phone.

One Friday, I decided to try once more and so, at  5:30, I rang to invite John out for a drink at 7:30. As usual his wife answered, however this time, instead of abruptly fobbing me off she started telling me a most extraordinary tale.  She told me that John wasn't able to go out any longer because at this precise moment she was getting him ready for bed. His bedtime was 6pm she told me. By 7.30, she said, he would be in bed, fast asleep. If I wanted to, she added, I could quickly wish him night- night as he had just brushed his teeth and was coming back from the bathroom as she spoke.

At the other end of the line I could hear a conversation. "Come and say night-night to your friend like a good little boy." I heard Marion say. Then John's voice, "no, no, Marion. Please don't make me talk to Mike. I'll die of shame."

"I know you'll be getting a smacked botty and spend all day tomorrow in beddy-byes if you don't do as you are told." She ordered, before I heard John's trembling voice at the end of the line.

"Hello, Mike, sorry but I can't talk ... er ... I'm feeling a bit poorly so I'm going to bed. Have a nice weekend. Bye." His wife again took the receiver and told me "Goodbye, Michael, John has to go to sleepy-byes now," then she hung up.

It was all very puzzling. Mike avoided me all week at work, so I was surprised the next Friday when I came home and my wife Susan, told me Marion had invited us around for a chat. So, at 4.30 we drove to his house. Marion asked us in. She was forty one, a good few years older than Mike and about seven inches taller. In fact, now that I thought about it, the similarities between Johns wife and my own were remarkable. They were both older and somewhat taller than us and, although we pretended otherwise when we were chatting up other women, they both wore the trousers in our homes.

John and Marion  had been married for eighteen months, it was John's first marriage and I remember thinking at the time how she had pursued him like a lioness stalks her prey. She was attractive, but to me she always unflattering clothes and never any makeup. That afternoon, as she answered the door she was wearing a plain, black skirt and a white, long sleeved blouse, buttoned at the neck. She looked like a strict school ma'am I thought as we followed her in.

She led us into the living room. John sat on the sofa looking extremely nervous, Marion offered us tea. "Tea?" I said laughing, don't be daft, let's have a beer together. He just shook his head. This wasn't the John I knew, then Marion said, "John doesn’t drink alcohol any longer do you John?" He shook his head in half-hearted agreement. "Those days are over, when he drank, it only led to bad behaviour, as you know all about Michael." She said pointedly.

We drank our tea in a rather awkward atmosphere, at least it was between me and John. Marion and my wife chatted  happily away until Marion suddenly said, "John, isn't it time for you to go and get ready for beddy-byes?"

John flushed bright red, but rose to his feet and answered, "Yes mu… Marion." And disappeared upstairs.  I was astonished, and although I had overheard the strange exchange they had had last week, I had dismissed it from my mind.

I was even more astonished when, five minutes later, John re-entered the room wearing the kind of nightgown that an eleven year old girl would have refused to put on. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The nightie was made from soft flannelette material and was full length. To make matters worse it was pink and covered with a blue floral motif. John like me, wasn't a particularly tall guy, so the hem of his nightie brushed the carpet. Just peeking out from beneath the hem I could see that we was also wearing pink, fur lined slippers. He hurried past me, unable to look me in the eye and stood in front of Marion, who was calmly sipping her tea.

"Please Marion," he began, "would you please button up my nightie for me?" His nightie had a frilled bodice and a frilly neckline that buttoned at the back. Obviously he was unable to fasten the buttons himself.

"Now, now John, you know the rule. You wouldn't want to go across mummy's lap for a smacked botty in front of our guests would you? What must you call me when you are dressed, ready for beddy-byes?" I could see his face brighten a deep red once again and he swallowed deeply, his lips moved, but at first no sound came from then until his voice croaked into life.

"Would you please button up my nightie for me mummy" he said, in a weak, pathetic voice. Marion laughed delightedly and duly took his shoulders, then turned him around to button up his nightie for him. "There now, mummy's little angel is all ready for beddy-byes isn't he," she asked in a sing-song voice as though she was talking to a toddler. Now, be mummy's good little helper and pour our guests some more tea before you toddle of to sleepy-byes, it's almost six o'clock and time for beddies."

John's hands trembled as he filled our cups. Once he had finished, Marion prompted him, "say goodnight to your friends and I will take you up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire my angel."

He still couldn't look at me and kept his eyes firmly on the floor as he bid us goodnight and they left the room. Marion towered above him as John clutched her hand as if he were a toddler.

We could hear his plodding footsteps on the stairs as he made his way up, and we could hear Marion scolding him as she followed him. "I didn't like your attitude one little bit John. I may have to consider an earlier bedtime for you if you don't buck your ideas up."

I was stunned by what I had just witnessed, although strangely Susan had been curiously quiet, and appeared to be much more accepting of the whole incident than I was. But before I could challenge her Marion reappeared and I cleared my throat, nervously I plucked up the courage to ask why my friend was being humiliated by her in such a manner.

Marion calmly put her cup down, placed her hands in her lap and smiled sweetly at me. "This all started," she began, "when I hired an investigator to follow the pair of you and found out what you got up to on your "boys" nights out. That was when I decided John should be punished for cheating on me with early bedtimes. I decided I would keep him here at home, where I knew where he would be safely tucked up in bed like the naughty little boy he was."

She took another sip of her tea before continuing. "I found that putting him across my lap and smacking his bottom as if he was a naughty child, which in my eyes, he is, as well as putting him to bed early, worked very well. John became more obedient and well mannered, so I decided he would have a regular, permanent early bedtime from then on. On work days I drive him home because I want him ready for beddies as soon as possible. He showers and puts on either, a long nightgown as you have seen him wearing, or, a pair of  little boy pyjamas that I have had especially sewn for him. Then he goes to bed at six o'clock on the dot every night, seven days a week, with lights out and straight to sleep. It means I can relax here at home in the knowledge that John is safely tucked into bed upstairs."

She paused for a moment to brush non-existent crumbs from her lap then went on explaining his new early bedtime regime.

"On weekends, he is not allowed out of the house unless I accompany him. Although his bedtime remains at six, I put him into his nightclothes when I deem it suitable. On Saturday mornings he has housework to do. I make him do his chores dressed in his childish pyjamas, so that, if it suits me, I can put him to bed with a sore bottom after lunch if  he has not worked well enough."

She paused, as though waiting for me to say something, but I was too shocked at what I was hearing to say a word.

"I have control of all the finances. I have told him that if he wants a divorce, he can have one. But with my evidence of his infidelity, I will walk away with the house and all the money Alternatively, we can remain married, but he must obey me and live the lifestyle of a naughty little boy who will be permanently punished for his past failings, that, as you have witnessed, is the decision he has made."

What an evil bitch, I thought as I excused myself. I went upstairs, intending to take the opportunity to see John. I tried his door, but it was locked. The key was in the lock so I turned it. His room was in the dark, but I could just see John lying in bed. I also heard him crying on his pillow so I silently closed and locked the door again to avoid embarrassing him further.

Back downstairs, I mentioned that I had heard John sobbing in his bed. Marion burst out laughing and said John was merely proving what a wimp and a baby he was. His early bedtime, she said, was very fitting. I  also mentioned that John appeared to be locked in his bedroom. "Yes he is," she answered, "that is so he can't get up and sneak out without my permission, although, apart from his nightgowns and pyjamas there are no normal clothes in his bedroom so he would be a sight to see dressed so childishly." Again laughed, this time uproariously at her own comment.

I asked what happened if John needed to use the bathroom, after all, I said, he is tucked up in bed for a long time each night. Her reply amazed me further. She told us that John had a potty beside his bed, so he had no need to visit the bathroom, but instead would use the potty like a small child. I was shocked, but my wife surprised me by actually appearing amused by it all.

 

Coming back home, my wife insisted on driving. She was silent with a face that told me she was annoyed. I wanted to discuss what we had witnessed and tried to start a conversation. I obviously took John's side and was saying how awful it was and that he should not put up with being treated like a small child by Marion. Immediately Susan became angry and replied that John was, "a bad little boy who deserves to be punished for his womanising and a baby‘s bedtime and wearing nighties is an appropriate punishment in my opinion."

Once we were indoors Susan removed her coat and quickly grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back. "Oww, stop you are hurting me." I cried surprised by this sudden attack. Susan had never been afraid to overpower me to show who was the boss. She had been a junior champion at one of the martial arts, but  this time I  detected a real sense of menace behind her actions. Susan  led me upstairs to the spare bedroom. "Darling, what…what are you doing?" I asked, in an attempt to pacify her.

"Did you think Marion hadn't told me what she discovered you fool," she spat. I know full well that you were just as bad as John and I knew and approved of her plan to punish John the way we saw earlier. And now, my little cheating bunny rabbit it's your turn, start getting undressed now!" It was my turn to swallow hard. "You can’t really be serious, " I  asked, fearful of her intentions.

"On the contrary, I never have been more serious, clothes off now!. At that moment, my guilty conscience left me unable to argue with my  angry wife. I only could pitifully stutter, "Er… w…well, darling. If you think it's for the best… I… I’ll get into bed…"

She curtly added, "hurry up!"

As I  prepared to undress she turned down the bedclothes, but as she face me she became angry at my slowness and she yanked down my trousers and underpants, thrust my arms upward and ripped off my tee-shirt then  shoved me onto the bed where she pulled my socks off. Now totally naked, I suddenly felt embarrassed and went to pull the bedclothes over me. My wife stopped me.

"Oh no my little bunny rabbit, did you think you were going to escape that easily. Up you get,  that's it stand up." She opened the dresser drawer and took out a pair of yellow pyjamas. They were made from soft brushed cotton and had pictures of blue bunny rabbits emblazoned upon them. "No, no please Susan, not that I don't want to wear those pyjamas," I pleaded. However she just ignored me and I sobbed as she stepped me into the pyjama bottoms and buttoned me into the pyjama jacket. It buttoned all the way to the neck and she turned me around to look at myself in the wardrobe mirror.

"Well now, who's a cute little babykins in his bunny wabbit jim-jams," she gloated as though she was talking to a toddler. I stared at my reflection, I was a toddler, wearing my fully buttoned, yellow, bunny rabbit pyjamas that were at least a size too big. Susan was crouched behind me grinning triumphantly.

 "Don't you look sweet my little Bunny Wunny," she continued to tease. "I asked Marion's friend to make you these humiliating pyjamas as a special surprise for you and tomorrow we will visit her again and you will pick out your fabric for three more pairs of little boy pyjamas and three nighties just like John's so that you can be tucked into beddy-byes wearing different jammies and nighties every day of the week, aren't you a lucky wittle bunny wabbit?"

By now I was sobbing uncontrollably as I realised I was going to have to endure the same punishment as John. "Your womanising days are over. You are now permanently under my control and as such will have early bedtimes and wear your nightclothes for the foreseeable future. Now, snuggle down. " Susan ordered, "and mummykins will tuck you into sleepy-byes!"

Her statement about making my bedtime punishment permanent was shocking enough, but now I looked at her wide eyed, surely she didn't mean….

"Yes that's right, you are now my ickle Bunny Wunny and you will call me mummykins." She confirmed, then added ."Unlike John, who only has to call Marion mummy when he is dressed for beddy-byes, you will call me mummykins at all times, regardless of who is present. I don't care if a room is full of your friends from work, mummykins is my name, understand Bunny Wunny?"

Still sobbing, I nodded tearfully as she put me to bed with a smack on my pyjama clad bottom. She pulled the blankets up and turned on the bedside lamp then leant out of the window to close the shutters. Our neighbour must have been at her window opposite as I heard my wife call across to her. "I just put my hubby Bunny Wunny to beddy-byes …  Oh no, he isn’t ill, he is quite well, only today is the start of his new early  bedtime regime … Thanks, I‘ll tell him … OK,  bye."

She closed the shutters and the window, then drew the curtains. "Jocelyn told me to wish you nite-nite. It’s sleepy-byes time for you. Straight to sleep now and don’t  dare get up, else… I’ll check on you later."

She gathered my clothes up and opened the door, ready to leave. "But what if I need the bathroom?" I asked despairingly, fearful of her answer.

Susan laughed and smirked as she spoke. "Don't worry about that little Bunny Wunny, I’ll  borrow a child's potty from mum, you can use that if you need to." I started to sob again.

"Look on the bright side, you’ll have not have to run the risk of being seen by anyone  as you ventured along the corridor wearing your little boy pyjamas will you?"  She laughed again, then said, "At least not tonight anyway." She turned the light off and locked the door behind her.

Luc's story continues with daddy having to apologise to his neighbour Ingrid in a most embarrassing manner.

                                       DADDY HAS TO APOLOGISE

My wife came back home from town before 3:45, we had finished our baby meal. I was just leaving the bathroom after I had brushed my teeth and I was ready to go back to bed. I hoped I’d be in bed and asleep before she returned so I could avoid her anger. She asked why I was already wearing my pyjamas. I answered that Jordan and myself had been sent to bed in the early afternoon, by her mother.

When my son in turn went to the toilet he was sulking and upset because he was in bed wearing his childish pyjamas. He told her, whining again, that it was early beddy-byes for us because my mother-in-law Maryse had to punish me, but that he hadn't done anything wrong to deserve punishment. 

She asked me harshly what I‘d done to be in my pyjamas so early and tucked into beddy-byes. I stammered that I didn’t know why I was punished but since her mom was in charge of us in her absence, it was right to obey her and to put my pyjamas on and get into bed when she ordered. I added shyly, "Sorry, but it’s sleepy-bye for us, so we have to go back to bed… I…I have still to tuck Jordan up before we sleep until tomorrow."

I thought that she’d let us go quietly back to bed since it was her mother who had given us our early pyjama and bedtime punishment. Instead, she became angry, gave me a slap on my bottom and said. "Naughty little husband, how dare you tell lies to me. Don't take me for a fool. Mother would have a good reason to bed punish you!"

My son sniggered and for that my wife gave him a slap too, right on his pyjama clad bottom and told him. "You, off to bed now! You are no better than your father!" He yelled and scurried off to bed holding his sore bottom.

My wife called her mother for an explanation. Maryse reported what she saw me doing with Ingrid our neighbour, except she exaggerated everything. Hearing her mothers words, Julianne became more angry, she lowered my pyjamas bottoms then, taking me across her knee, spanked me severely with her strong arms.

Then she told me to go and fetch my soft toy, Mr Bunny, and my dummy from the bedroom and not to forget to wear my slippers. My wife ordered me to put my dummy in my mouth then she took me by the ear, dragging me downstairs. I had no choice but to follow her. When she opened the front door, I took my dummy out to ask where we were going. "Get that dummy back in, shut up and march." She ordered, giving me a spank. She paused only long enough to tie my dummy in place before she resumed her march. I felt acutely embarrassed, being marched along, outdoors, in broad daylight, wearing my girlish baby pyjamas, with a dummy tied in my mouth and holding a stuffed-rabbit. 

I suddenly realised, my wife, who was dressed very severely in a white blouse and a dark suit, was taking me to our neighbours house. I started to whine though my dummy only allowed me to make a babyish, "mmmmphhh", muffled sound and I only got spanked again for my impudence, this time three spanks on my bottom with the palm of her hand.

"Oh, you can whine, you naughty boy, Ingrid will hear and see what kind of womaniser you are, nothing but a little cry-baby!

At Ingrid’s front door, I tried once more to speak and remove my dummy, but my wife gave me another slap, this time on the face. She rang the doorbell. It felt as if hours passed before the door was opened. My sexy neighbour stood, staring at us in disbelief. At first speechless, she recovered, to say cheerfully.

"Oh, my dear Julianne, how are you? Oh, Luc, I’ve already seen your pretty pink pyjamas and those childish bedroom slippers, haven't I? This afternoon when your step mom sent you to bed as a punishment and your son also was sent to beddy-byes early because of you. Oh and what a lovely stuffed rabbit you have, you look so sweet and babyish. Not like a real man at all."

My wife told  Ingrid she had bought me over to her because of my childish behaviour that afternoon and that I begged her forgiveness. My wife told her I was going to apologise humbly and sincerely for  behaving like a silly, childish,  naughty little boy.

Julianne untied my dummy and I murmured shyly. "I…I’m very sorry…."

Ingrid appeared taken aback. "That’s all I get, that's not a humble apology is it?" 

My wife again gave me a slap on the face and, twisting my ear again, forced me to kneel. She ordered me to repeat her words. "I, a silly, naughty little boy humbly beg your forgiveness for my disrespectful behaviour towards you Madame. I am genuinely and sincerely sorry. I promise I’ll never do anything like that again. My lovely stepmother rightfully punished me by making me wear these babyish pyjamas and putting me to bed early as befits a naughty little boy. It would be very generous of you if you were to forgive me my foolish behaviour."

Ingrid tried not laugh and said she would forgive me if I would carry on with my punishment and submit strictly to the bed punishment imposed on me. Also I had to apologise to my son for him suffering the same bed punishment because of my actions. I promised, then my wife noticed it was near 4:15 and time I was tucked  back up. I was relieved to avoid this embarrassing situation and agreed with my wife's decision.

I even dared to say shyly, "You‘re right, Julianne, it’s sleepy-bye time for me since I am under early bedtime punishment. Besides, Jordan has already been in bed a long time and he won't like it if I’m not in bed too, since I am the cause of his punishment."

However, unluckily for me Ingrid neighbour offered my wife a coffee. I was mortified when she accepted and even more so when I was not offered  a drink, but was instead given corner time! I had to stand, facing the living room wall, holding my stuffed toy Mr Bunny, for almost half an hour, until both the women finished their drinks.

Before we left, my wife suggested Ingrid should spank me for my naughty behaviour and she accepted the offer at one. She ordered me to lower my pretty pyjama bottoms then patted her lap, I lay across it then she gave me ten strong spanks, so hard were they that I started to cry and begged her to stop. Tearfully I put my pyjamas back on before my pitiless wife dragged me back home, again by the ear. My poor bottom was red-hot and I was unable to stop crying.

Julianne still dragged me upstairs before putting me to bed with no cream for my burning bottom and no tissue for my tears. My son awoke because of the noise and my sobs. He asked Julianne. "Why is dad crying like a baby?"

She replied harshly that our dear neighbour had administered a good spanking that he thoroughly deserved, and she continued, if you don’t be quiet and snuggle down facing the wall you’ll suffer the same fate at my hands. Jordan obeyed immediately while I of course had to lie face downward. My son risked  punishment all the same to ask his stepmother if he would have to stay in beddy-byes all day tomorrow too, a Sunday.

She replied, "Yes, baby. Since I feel sorry for your daddy in spite of what he did, you’ll be in bed like him, to keep him company. Now, nighty-night, I don't want to hear a murmur from either of you or else!"

                                                                                                                                                                                       

Luc's new story in its entirety. Baby Beddy and Daddy Beddy. How a husband and son are bed punished by his new and his old wife.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         BABY BEDDY AND DADDY BEDDY

Since I married my second wife Julianne several months ago,  me and my eighteen year old son Jordan have actually been given a compulsory early bedtime. After we undress and put on our pyjamas, we must prepare our bedroom for sleep by getting our beds ready and closing the shutters and curtains. We put our potties in our bedside table, then we go downstairs to eat a snack in the kitchen wearing our pyjamas at 5 PM. When we have finished we wash our dishes and lay the table in the dining room for my wife and her relatives to have their dinner. After that we brush our teeth then come back downstairs to bring the baby monitor to my wife so she can hear and punish us if we get out of bed without permission. We also kiss my wife nite-nite and also my stepmother, my stepdaughters and any guests present.

My wife usually comes upstairs to our bedroom a bit later to tuck us in and to humiliate us further by making sure we have our stuffed toys cuddled in beside us. Mine is a stuffed rabbit and Jordan has a teddy-bear. Our dummies are placed in our mouths and we must keep our faces turned against the walls. She then kisses us good-night on the forehead and locks the door. Every night we are in bed with lights out at 6 PM at the latest.

My stepmother Maryse, and the twins, Agnes and Astrid, my wife's two twelve year old sassy girls life with us in my house. Of course, her family share the most comfortable rooms. She also prefers to eat and to pass the evening and most of her weekend quietly in their company and some friends. This is why she puts me and my son to bed so early. According to her moods, I’ve sometimes to be in bed a part of the night in her room instead of the one of Jordan. But even in this case, beddy-bye is at 6 or earlier for me.

Jordan and me, or "baby beddy“ and "daddy beddy", as the twins have nicknamed us, are asleep or languishing in bed while it’s still bright outside and my wife, stepmother and stepdaughters are downstairs dining, and generally enjoying themselves. Sometimes we hear them playing tennis on my tennis court!

Jordan, who is close to being nineteen, is especially humiliated when the twins, who are seven years his junior, baby-sit us. This sometimes happens when we are put to bed during the day as a punishment or my wife wants peace and quiet and not to be disturbed.

It was one of  my worst embarrassments ever when my ex-wife Diane, who now lives in Australia, visited us with her new husband. It was a Sunday and I was sent to bed along with Jordan after I served the coffee after lunch. We were ordered to undress, and once ready for bed, to come back downstairs to say nite-nite to everybody.

Our pyjamas had been laid out for us and when we came back down Jordan was wearing an infantile baby blue footed pyjamas set and I, much to my shame wore a very girlish, pink footed pyjamas. It was only 1:30 and I was as red as a beetroot and my son was in tears. His mother kissed and tried to sooth him to no avail as he was so ashamed to be in his babyish pyjamas in front of everyone so early in the day.

She then asked my new wife permission to tuck us up in beddies herself and she agreed, although she was given strict instructions to close shutters and draw curtains and to be certain we have our potties close by. She was also to ensure our stuffed animals were tucked up with us in our beds and our dummies firmly in our mouths. My ex wife came upstairs with us and she strictly observed the instructions she had been given. She stayed awhile at the bedside of our son, kissing and soothing him, saying that to take a nap after a good meal is good,  "all the more so since daddy is in the next bed".

Still sobbing, our son explained to her that we wasn’t in bed only for one or two hours but for the rest of the day until tomorrow morning.  His mother replied that was fine as well and that, "a big boy like you shouldn't cry like a baby just because he‘s been sent to bed a little earlier than usual."

"Look at your daddy." She continued, "he’s in bed like you but he isn’t whining."

Jordan told her that I cried often when I was put to bed early and it was only because she was there that I wasn't crying now too. My ex asked me if that was true and I had to confess that I cried because I felt I was being unfairly punished.

Diane laughed and told me, " Well after a good  cry I suppose you‘ll sleep better, especially if you have your stuffed rabbit to cuddle up to." When his mother got up to kiss us nite-nite, Jordan asked her, in a little boy voice, if she would read us a  bedtime story, but since she wasn’t sure that was allowed, she went downstairs to ask her "successor", if she could.

She came back to tell us that the guests everyone was going to drink champagne in the garden and that it was time for both of us to go sleepy-bye. As Julianne had instructed, she put our dummies between our lips then gently kissed us.

As a conditioned reflex, I took out my dummy from my mouth to remind her to turn the baby monitor on and to lock the door when going out. She looked angry and ordered me harshly to put my dummy back in my mouth and warned me that she would not mind giving me a bedtime spanking before she left. Eventually she calme down and made sure Jordan was tucked firmly in beddies and locked us in as she left.

Clutching my pillows, I heard my son sobbing in his bed while my ex, her husband, my wife and the others talked and laughed, clearly audible below our window. 

I heard my ex saying that she almost spanked me and then my wife explaining to our guests about the rules she has devised for us and what happens if we aren’t obedient. She explained that she or her mother sometimes give us punishment spankings. Jordan and myself are made to put on our pyjama jackets only, then taken across their laps and spanked. Then we are given corner time in pyjamas and confined to bed .

My ex told my wife I had also complained about her unfair punishments. Julianne replied  I was a naughty boy and a baby too. She added that a spanked bare bottom and corner time shouldn’t hurt big boys like me and Jordan. My ex agreed laughing loudly, and I felt even more ashamed and upset but I finally fell asleep.

Our humiliation, especially mine, started again later when Diane and her new husband came to our bedroom to bring to us our supper. To my dismay this was  jars of baby food and baby bottles of milk. We had woke up tired and rubbing our eyes because we didn't know what time it was. To make matters worse Diane tied baby's bibs round our necks while forced to eat and drink in front of them.

She fed us the food from the jars and they couldn't stop laughing while we sucked on our bottles and I was left embarrassed when I was admonished for making a mess on my bib. Once we had finished, I nervously explained we had to brush our teeth and go to the toilet before sleepy-byes. Diane told us to hurry up because she and her husband had to go back to their hotel. After we got back into bed, she tucked both of us up again, making sure our stuffed toys were beside us, then she told us they wouldn’t be leaving for three days but she that they probably couldn’t come to see us before they left because of our early bedtimes. 

After she kissed us and reminded Jordan to write to her often, she bid us goodbye and nighty-night. Before I fell asleep again, I could hear Diane and her husband  take their leave of Julianne. My former wife congratulated my new one on her discipline and recommended she continue to be strict with us, especially on our bedtimes. She confessed that she regretted to not have imposed pyjama and early bedtime punishment herself while we lived together.

From our beds, we heard their car starting and in the distance, the church clock strike 4pm. We were now to stay in bed  and sleep until Monday morning.  I said nite-nite to Jordan and  lay awake for half an hour contemplating on the humiliations of the afternoon. The worst was to have to wear my pink footed pyjamas in front of everyone and to have to go to bed so early. Finally though it was so shameful all to be fed baby food from a jar by my ex wife and to suck on my baby bottle in front of Diane's husband.

 

I felt very humiliated, but since I knew I had no choice but to obey my wife and go to bed straight away when Julianne ordered, I was resigned to this situation. My son had stopped sobbing and was already asleep. I finally stopped thinking about my shameful treatment and did like him.

                                                                                                                                                                

Luc's new story. Father and son both punished with an early bedtime

 Here is Luc's new story. I have taken the liberty of tidying it up a bit. I can't imagine how hard it is to write  a story in a foreign language.

I was chatting with a neighbour, a sexy woman I  have known for years. My stepmother saw us and didn’t view the flirtation favourably. She called out to me, loudly ordering me to come in and go to bed straightaway. I was of course terribly ashamed but I knew I had to obey her. I blushed, stammered an excuse and took my leave of my astonished, but amused neighbour. When I had my pyjamas on a few minutes later, but before I got into bed, I asked my step mom in which room I had to go to be tucked in.  She replied that it was to be in the one Jordan, my son slept in. He was being allowed to play tennis in the backyard with his young stepsisters and two of their friends until his usual, early bedtime. I told my stepmother that he should know I was being sent to bed early as a punishment and would be sleeping in his bedroom and asked her to tell him that I wouldn’t be able to join him as I had promised.

She replied that he had better go to bed early too, and she ordered me to go and get him. I protested. I’d deserved to be punished with an early bedtime but not my son, and moreover I was already in  my pyjamas ready for bed. She replied curtly that it was up to her and not for me to decide on his bedtime.

"It’s usual for the naughty boy to wear pyjamas when being bed punished, isn’t it?" She asked, then told me to hurry up and fetch him. I put my slippers on and went down to the tennis court wearing my pink, feminine pyjamas and bedroom slippers

One of the twins saw me first. When she burst out laughing, my son turned around and saw me. The others girls also roared with laughter, seeing me ready for bed in my pyjamas so early in the afternoon. My son was at first speechless, then he asked me with a small voice what had happened. I confessed shamefully that my stepmother had sent me to bed as a punishment because she caught me flirting with our neighbour while my wife wasn’t there. I explained that my stepmother wanted him to got to bed now too, even earlier than our compulsory bedtime and even though he hadn't been a bad boy like I had been. He started to cry and threw his racket to the ground in anger, but in reality he had no choice but to follow me, dragging his feet with the girls mocing voices ringing in our ears.

When we got back home, me in my pink pyjamas, my neighbour asked why my son was in tears. I stammered he had to go to bed too. "Was he also disobedient?" She asked smiling.

"No, he has not done anything wrong but he has to go to bed now because we are to sleep in the same room and the room is to be locked."

She told us she was sorry that we had been given an early beddy-byes because of her, then  she wished us nite-nite, laughing.

While my still upset son undressed and put on his pyjamas, I got our beds ready. My stepmother became impatient and rushed upstairs to check whether or not we were in bed yet. My son was in bed, but I wasn’t because I was getting ready to close the shutters. The window was wide open and my sexy neighbour could see me.

Step mom gave me two slaps on the face and three more on the bottom then shouted "Off to bed now  naughty boy… I hope at least you haven’t forgotten your potties. And has your whining son his teddy bear?"

My son murmured,  "yes, Madame,“ and I only nodded because I was also about to cry as I got into bed.  Before she closed our shutters to block out the bright sun out, stepmother calmly told  the neighbour from the window that, "boys need early bedtime and pyjama discipline, especially the one’s who believe they are old enough to flirt with a neighbour."

The woman replied laughing. "You’re right. An older naughty boy like your son-in-law certainly worries you and your daughter.“

"Oh sure. We are get peace and quiet when both of them are well tucked up… Sorry, but now I’ve to prepare them for sleepy-byes.“

The neighbour laughed again and replied, "so it will be a restful good afternoon for you …goodnight to both the boys!“

After she got us tucked tightly up in bed, she put our dummies in our mouths, turned the baby monitor on and the light off. She ordered us to stay quiet since my wife will return soon.

Before I fell asleep a few minutes later, I could still hear my stepmother and the woman chatting. My stepmother explained her that we had potties because we are locked in our bedroom and dummies because they help soothe us to sleep more easily.

Our neighbour agreed, laughing. I confess I felt at once ashamed and aroused.

Another letter from Pyjama Punishment Monthly. I think Nanny Smackottom is quite upset with this correspondent.

Dear Nanny Smackbottom

I am humiliated regularly by my wife, her sister and my mother-in-law. Every afternoon when I return home from work I am stripped and bathed by my mother-in-law. I am taken downstairs again and made to put on ladies pyjamas. These are the granny variety, pink winceyette floral ones that button to the neck with a Peter-Pan collar. I also have to wear fur collared pink slippers too. I have to help prepare the evening meal and frequently receive a smacked bottom for various indiscretions. After we have eaten and I have washed up the dishes my wife and mother-in-law make me answer the door to her various ladies groups who meet at our house every night. Her sister is usually the first to arrive and I must curtsey and say, "good evening Aunty Susan, please may I take your coat?" I have to repeat this to all the visitors and once I have put away the coats I report back to my wife. She usually takes me across her lap and lowers my pyjama trousers to smack my bare bottom. When she has finished I must curtsey and thank her for my spanking and then say good night to all the ladies. Then my mother-in-law takes me by the hand and puts me to bed at 7pm. I think you will agree this is quite humiliating.

A very disgruntled husband

Dear Disgruntled

I think you have quite a nerve writing to me to complain about your so called humiliation. You are such a coward you would not even sign your name. Let me tell you that if I was your Nanny you would know what a humiliating experience was. Does your wife and MIL know you have written to me to complain? I think not. If I could I would come around personally to tell them what you have done and I would bring some new pyjamas for you to wear as well. Then you would really find out what it is to be humiliated in your pretty pyjamas. How does a trip to the shops wearing your pink pyjamas sound? Or a walk in the park to feed the duckies? I bet everyone would enjoy seeing you in your jimmy-jams, don't you? Back home early so you can entertain everyone with a few songs and nursery rhymes before a bedtime spanking administered by all the ladies present, then it would be bedtime for you at 6pm. How does that sound you ungrateful sissy?

Nanny Smackbottom (Very angry!)

Here is something I came across. A naughty sissy is dressed in his floral winceyette pyjamas to say night-night.

Correspondence from Pyjama Punishment Monthly about early bedtimes and spankings

Dear Nanny Smackbottom

There appeared to be some confusion in last month's issue, regarding my position on bedtimes for naughty little boys and smacked botties.

Please allow me to explain.

It has always been part of my disciplinary philosophy to treat adolescent boys (and young adult males) as if they were at least five years younger than their physical age. Girls, in general, mature much quicker and as such it is correct that the male should go to bed sooner and in some cases their bedtimes should be supervised by their sister or sisters. I would expect that a 16 year old boy under my supervision would have a bedtime of between 6 and 7 pm with a pyjama time of 4 or 5 p.m. Furthermore, I always prefer to put my little boys into their pyjamas a minimum of 2 hours before their bedtime. If a younger sister or sisters are around to witness this, then so much the better.

This reinforces the boy's immature status in the sibling hierarchy in addition, this is why I also endeavour to dress naughty little boys in childish nightwear whatever their ages. When they have to walk around in front of their younger sisters for 2 hours before bedtime wearing cute, dinosaur or teddy-bear little boy pyjamas they quickly lose their aggressive attitudes and respond to discipline more effectively.

If especially sewn little boy pyjamas are beyond your means, then a few pairs of female pyjamas from any high street chain store are an acceptable alternative. You will rapidly discover that watching a 16 year old boy wearing a pair of yellow teddy bear patterned pyjamas and kissing his younger sisters night-night at 6pm is very rewarding in terms of discipline. The girl or girls, should become part of the boys bedtime routine, helping with bath time or perhaps helping select his most infantile pyjamas and subsequently buttoning up his pyjama top for him.

Perhaps also, have them help tuck our recalcitrant naughty boy, snugly into bed before kissing him goodnight on the forehead with a warning that he is not to get out of bed without permission under any circumstances. In addition, having your 12 year old sister drawing the bedroom curtains on a sunny summer evening at 6 pm as the 16 year-old is encased in pyjamas and bedclothes, is especially humiliating for the male who is being put to bed and a good way to educate young siblings early on their lives on how to produce a well disciplined male. Over the years I have endeavoured to ensure that the males who have fallen under my patronage, come to appreciate their subservient role in regard to the superior female.

I have developed the doctrine of pyjama and early bedtime discipline as an excellent way to achieve this. Naturally during my career, I have used maternal, over the knee punishments to reinforce my control. However this is a method I tend to use sparingly, not least because as we know, being placed over a matronly lap for a smacked bottom can be surprisingly stimulating for adolescent males.

For maximum effectiveness, smacked bottom time should be delivered in front of several females. I prefer to smack bottoms in the presence of ladies from my own circle who understand and appreciate my efforts.

This reserves the ultimate humiliation of a male going across my knee in front of younger females as an additional punishment. I always begin with the recipient pyjama clad and then expose the naughty boys bottom by pulling down their pyjama bottoms for further punishment if the naughtiness warrants.

In conclusion, a spot of corner time before beddy-byes, with hands on heads and pyjamas puddled around their ankles is also an excellent, humiliating punishment, especially when younger females are there to witness such a manifestation of pyjama and early bedtime punishment's.

I trust this clarifies my position on bedtimes and spankings for naughty boys.

Yours

Miss Helen Good

A selection of Sissy Babykins punishments at the hands of strict nannies and aunts

Anthony is off to visit Aunty Susan shortly, but first he has to suffer indignations at the hands of Aunty Angela and his mum

Mrs Green dipped her finger into the antiseptic cream and ran her finger along the crevice at the top of his leg. She rubbed the cream into his skin as he stood there desperately hoping his little willy would not respond to the touch of his mother as she lifted it to rub in more cream. She paused. Her finger and thumb lifting his willy upwards. "Oh, what do we have here? Three dirty looking curly hairs, no, no we can't have those. Aunty Angela, come and hold this a moment please.

Angela had been enjoying his obvious discomfort watching his mother put cream on his private region, but she was overjoyed to be, "called into action," so to speak. Angela took hold of the tip of his pee-pee and lifted it upwards. "No mum please, don't let her mum, I…"

The deeply embarrassed boys pleadings counted for naught.

"Nothing to worry about, precious, we'll soon have you nice and tidy down below again."

Angela added, "keep still, Anthony, you don't want the scissors to slip, do you?"

His mother took hold of his meagre, newly grown pubic hair and held it until it was taut enough to pull his skin upwards. She wielded the scissors once, then twice. After the third time she rubbed her hand across the now hairless area.

"There now, nice and smooth again. We'll have to keep a close eye on that area from now Aunty Angela." Angela was thrilled that she had been included and gleefully followed as Mrs Green ushered the naked Anthony into his bedroom. Once again she was taken aback at what she saw. Angela was astonished at the appearance of the fifteen year old's bedroom, Sesame Street themed throughout, it was infantile in the extreme. The bed was a young child's bed, only two feet six wide and, laid out on top of the Sesame Street bedclothes was what Anthony's mother called his "visiting outfit."

On top of the bed was a pair of yellow, pleated shorts with large buttons on the waistband. There was also a white, frilly shirt with short sleeves. The edges of which were trimmed yellow to match his shorts and, no doubt, make him look even more ridiculous.

His mother sounded genuinely excited as she urged Anthony to get dressed quickly.

"Come along, into your lovely visiting outfit, I know it is one of your favourites." Anthony looked at his mother, then at Angela before replying nervously, "it used to be mum, a few years ago, but I think I am a bit too old to wear it now."

Mrs Green was suddenly quite tearful. "Why, I don't know, I spend all this time looking after you and making you nice things to wear, and all you do is criticise and complain." She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. "S-s-s-sorry mum," he stuttered.

Anthony hated upsetting his mum and Angela stood and watched fascinated as he stood compliantly and allowed his mother to dress him in a white vest and underpants set that a ten year old would have refused to wear. Mrs Green pulled the frilly shirt over his head. The buttons only extended halfway down the shirt and she buttoned it up all the way to the neck, slapping his hand away as he tried to help, before lovingly smoothing down the floppy Peter Pan Collar. Next, she stepped him into the yellow shorts that were longer than his school, "play" shorts.

Angela noticed the pleats at the front and looked on in amazement as his mother buttoned the shorts onto buttonholes that were sewn into the hem of his frilly shirt. White knee socks, again with yellow trim at the top and a pair of red, crepe soled Clarks sandals, completed his "visiting outfit. 

"There now, Aunty Angela, doesn't our little boy look smart? Be a soldier for Aunty Angela precious." Anthony turned crimson yet again as he was asked to stand to attention, the palms of his hands were pressed firmly against his sides as Angela inspected him. She thought he looked absurd. A fifteen year old boy dressed like a toddler from the nineteen fifties was a strange sight to say the least. But… she loved it.

She loved the way his mother appeared not to realise how much she was humiliating and infantilising her son and for whatever reason she loved being part of it and wanted more.

"He certainly does look smart Mrs Green, very smart indeed. You are such a lucky little boy to have such a lovely visiting outfit Anthony." She said, lifting his chin up with her fore finger to look him directly in the face as she spoke. She walked around him, just like an officer inspecting her troops.

"Perhaps I can improve his appearance just a little bit Mrs Green." Angela picked up a hairbrush from the dresser and with a few deft strokes curled a lock of his hair down, and across his forehead. "How does that look?" she asked, knowing full well that she had just taken another two years off Anthony's appearance.

His mother clapped, prompting her hapless son to answer his new Aunty. Anthony stood there, a fifteen year old dressed as a toddler, his arms pressed firmly to his sides as his mum and Angela stood smiling at him expectantly. In his head, his inner thoughts screamed out for him to end this nightmare, but then his voice whispered a barely audible.

"Thank you for doing my hair for me Aunty Angela."

His mother reached out to Anthony. "Come along and take mummy's hand, it's time we were off to show Aunty Susan your lovely visiting outfit and to find out why she was so keen to see us this afternoon."