Humiliated in public in pink pyjamas at the hands of the formidable Miss Cynthia Bracegirdle

 
It was with some relief that I received the news my car would not be ready until Monday. My phone call to aunty explaining why I would not be visiting at the weekend was therefore truthful as aunty has that knack of knowing when I am telling fibs, the consequences usually being a mouth soaping and an early bedtime for me.

As it was I was looking forward to a carefree couple of days and had gotten myself comfy in a pair of shorts and flip-flops when, about thirty minutes later, there was a persistent ringing of my doorbell. Annoyed by the disturbance I flung open the door.

In swept Cynthia Bracegirdle, "come along Wincerind, chop, chop, I’m here to drive you down to your aunt's for the weekend."

That damned woman had brushed past me and strode forcefully into my lounge as it appeared that upon receiving my call, aunty had immediately contacted Cynthia to arrange for her to collect me and take me to aunty's house.

"I'm perfectly happy here Miss Bracegirdle," I answered rather haughtily, "please inform aunty that my previous decision stands and that I will not be visiting this weekend."

Cynthia looked at me with amusement, "you really are just a silly little boy aren't you?"

She sat herself down on my sofa, grabbing my left wrist as she moved backwards, pulling me toward her and over her lap. I don't know how she achieved it but in one movement she had completely removed my shorts and was smacking my bare bottom with a multitude of accurate hand spanks.

"Are you coming to your aunts with me?" She asked, pausing from administering damage to my poor bottom to listen to my reply.

"Yes, yes alright," I sobbed.

"Excellent decision Wincerind," she confirmed, setting my naked self down from her lap before adding, "time then to get you into your travelling pyjamas."

I looked at her dumfounded,” my what.... what on earth are travelling pyjamas?"

Cynthia retrieved and unzipped the holdall that had lain unnoticed by me in the doorway.

"These are your travelling pyjamas," she proclaimed holding aloft a bundle of pink winceyette. "Come here," she ordered.

In a pathetic attempted to run away I headed for my bedroom but of course Cynthia was far too quick for me and I was once again put across her knee. 

"Are you going to put on your travelling pyjamas like a good little boy or am I going to have to smack your naughty boy bottom again?" She asked, laying one stinging blow to my already reddened bottom. 

"Think about the answer I would like to hear before opening that silly mouth of yours," she warned.

I pondered for a second, knowing it was more than my pride I was about to swallow.

"Please Miss Bracegirdle," I began, my voice quivering and shaking as if I were a pre-pubescent boy on speech day, "may I put on my travelling pyjamas please, thank you kindly Miss Bracegirdle ma'am?"

Cynthia beamed with pleasure, knowing she had broken me completely. "Of course you can wear your lovely travelling pyjamas, little man, you only had to ask. Now, there are several sets, I think I'll decide from those two I think."

Cynthia flapped open a monstrous pink, one-piece winceyette outfit and a pair of pink floral, footed winceyette pyjamas the jacket of which had a petit, Peter Pan collar


"I think the pyjama romper to begin with don't you?" Although the question was purely rhetorical as she eagerly dressed me in the horrible romper outfit.

"Oh yes, very fetching," she smirked as she fastened me into what was definitely a pyjama romper outfit and adjusted the frilly elasticised cuffs to her satisfaction. 
Pausing only to shuffle my feet into a pair of pink slippers, before I knew what was happening she had grabbed my hand and was leading me down the lobby stairs toward her car.

To my utter shame Mrs Cuthbertson, who lives in the apartment opposite was climbing up the stairs as we descended. Cynthia could not resist pausing for a moment. "Say hello to the nice lady Wincerind, clever boy, off we go."

We departed, leaving a very puzzled Mrs Cuthbertson behind and me extremely red-faced.

I quickly got myself into the passenger seat before I could encounter any more neighbours and we set off. Needless to say I was not feeling in the mood for conversation and we sat in silence as we drove despite her suggestion to get me to sing "travelling" songs, such as, He'll be wearing pink pyjamas.

Before we even halfway to my aunt’s house, Cynthia pulled into the refreshment area and parked outside the cafe area in plain view of anyone sitting in the window seats, luckily that at that moment there were none.

"I'm sick of your sullenness," she suggested coldly as she took out her phone.

"I expect you start enjoying the trip immediately or else."

Crossing my arms defiantly I sank lower sunk into the seat, “or else what?" I asked stupidly, thinking the worst she could do was to take my picture.

Instead she turned to face me, "I am going into the restroom," she began, "this is the voice recorder setting, while I am away you will sing, sitting here in the front seat, The wheels on the bus go round and round, clapping along with yourself as you do so for the entire ten minutes the recording will last" 

Looking as dignified as I could wearing my one piece, pink winceyette romper suit I started to argue but she held up her hand to silence me and the look on her face convinced me to do as I was told, she continued.

"Upon my return we will sit and listen to the full ten minutes of the recording, if you have not sang and clapped the whole time this is what will happen.

Cynthia Bracegirdle went on to tell me that if I did not perform as she wished, she would take me into the busy ladies rest room, remove my pyjama romper and replace it with the pair of pink floral footed pyjamas that she thought would make me look very muck like a sissy.
Then she would take me into the cafe and sit me upon her knee and order me warm milk in a sippy cup, tying a baby's bib around my neck she would feed me the milk before, "helping me get my windy-woos up", she also threatened to spank me if I resisted in any way.

Needless to say she had my up most attention and even before Cynthia had closed her door I was already clapping and singing, totally ignoring the looks I was getting from people sat in the cafe and people who were passing by. 

I scanned the exit eagerly, foolishly wishing that Cynthia Bracegirdle would soon return.

"The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round, the wheels on the bus go round and round, all day long......."