This tale of Pyjama Punishment was sent to PPM by Helen Good

Dear Pyjama Punishment Monthly, I thought your readers would be interested in this account of a student's pyjama and early bedtime discipline that was sent to me by Miss Hardacre herself. Baby Lamb was keeping a secret journal of some sort until he was discovered writing it under the bedclothes. It was confiscated and any repetition thwarted by the judicious employment of bedtime mittens and bed straps. I think you will agree that Miss Hardacre does a fine job and proves my point that sometimes a male just requires a small nudge in the direction of pyjama discipline for him to fall under its spell. I believe Baby Lamb is now married and lives in a household where he is kept permanently pyjama disciplined by his wife and mother along with Miss Hardacre Due to my mother's financial constraints I had been forced to attend a university about twenty miles from my hometown. To further save on costs I was to lodge with my mother"s longstanding friend Miss Hardacre. This was not ideal to a young man looking to break away from his mother"s apron strings, but upon arrival Miss Hardacre sat me down and informed me that although she was happy to take me in and that that I would be living with her at no expense, she insisted that I had to abide strictly to her house rules or find myself sent home and unable to further my education. Just before tea time on my second day, Miss Hardacre announced that she was not happy with my sloppy appearance and that from now on she would prefer it if pyjamas were my mode of dress while taking tea. I was dumbfounded and protested vigorously that not only would I not wear pyjamas, but also that it was not possible as I did not even own any pyjamas to wear. Miss Hardacre reminded me of her house rules and informed me that she would provide night attire for me and that I would be wise to do as I was told. Dismissing my protests she told me to start undressing while she went to fetch something suitable to wear. Ignoring her I continued with my meal until I saw her return with a pair of pink floral winceyette pyjamas draped over her arm. I watched as she placed them neatly over the back of a dining chair before approaching me. Quickly she had grabbed and twisted my right ear lobe, I squealed with pain as she sat herself down on the pyjama-laden chair while keeping a firm grip on my my ear and hauled me over her lap. Being small and lightweight for my age I was easily overpowered by Miss Hardacre who had managed to lower my trousers by an act of dexterity I am still yet unable to fathom and subjected my bared bottom to a severe and painful smacking. My resistance quickly crumbled under the duress of the spanking she delivered and I was sobbing gently as Miss Hardacre buttoned me into the pink winceyette pyjama jacket and maneouvered the pyjama bottoms up and over my legs, tucking the hem of the pyjama jacket inside the elasticised waistband "I think," she said, as she fastened the top button of the Peter Pan collar on my pyjama jacket, “that in future it will be best if we put you into pyjamas as soon as you arrive home each afternoon, don’t you? Then there will be less chance of tears before bedtime won’t there?" A strict bedtime of six o’clock was immediately imposed upon me. As soon as I arrived home I had to go upstairs, pick up the pyjamas that Miss Hardacre had laid out on my bed for me and present myself to Miss Hardacre so she could get me ready for, as she described it, "beddy-byes". Twice a week, when I only had to attend a morning lecture I found myself dressed in pyjamas and ready for bed as early as eleven o'clock in the morning, then she began to address me only as "Baby Lamb" and insist I refer to her as "Aunty Dearest" If I ever attempted to rebel or even hesitate to conform to her wishes, I would be punished with over the knee spankings, if I ever spoke out of turn I would be given mouth soapings, followed by a spanking and put straight to bed. “Baby Lamb must be overtired, mustn't he,” she would say, cupping my face in her hands, “why else would he be such a naughty rascal. You shall be put into your pyjamas at once and tucked into beddybyes for a lovely early bedtime. Sometimes I would demean myself even further by attempting to talk my way out of a situation by putting on a babyish lisping voice that she liked me to use in front of guests. “ Aunty Dwearest, Baby Lamb is sowwy for being such a naughty wascal, pwease don’t put me into my jimmyjams and send me to beddybyes.” Occasionally this ploy would work, but I felt no pleasure as I realised how much I was humiliating myself. I was never left alone or unsupervised by Miss Hardacre. On Saturday mornings, Aunty Dearest would drive me to the local library where her friend Miss Lexicon is the head librarian. Once hidden away in her inner office I had to change into pyjamas and slippers and study while Aunty went shopping. If Miss Lexicon caught me not concentrating she would spank me and stand me in the corner with my pyjama bottoms around my ankles, there I would stay until Aunty Dearest returned who would repeat the spanking and take me home still dressed in my pyjamas and put me to bed for the rest of the day when we returned home often well before noon Sometimes on the way back home we stopped at a tea- shop where aMiss Hardacre met a few of her friends. Invariably I would do something to annoy her, she would tell me off in front of everyone. “ When I get you home I want you straight into your prettiest pink jimmy-jams as soon as we get in.” She always raises laughter by brandishing my library pyjamas and informing all and sundry that, “Baby Lamb looks ever so sweet in his pretty pink pyjamas.” I thought at least I would gain support from my mother, that if she knew what was occurring she would put a stop to this nonsense. Not a bit. One Sunday morning Aunty the doorbell rang. I was wearing pink floral winceyette pyjamas and a pink nylon tabard that I was made to wear to keep my pyjamas, “neat and tidy”. I was also clutching a yellow duster, Sunday was my day for household chores. “Don’t dilly dally Baby Lamb, you know you’re on doorbell duty, hurry up.” I was shocked to find my Mother standing smiling sweetly at me as she bent forward to kiss my cheek. "You look nice dear," she said patting my pyjama- clad bottom as she followed me in. She would not listen to any of my objections as to my treatment and sided with Miss Hardacre on every point. In fact the two of them became so angry with me that I was dispatched off to bed there and then at ten thirty in the morning. A few weeks later, I started to receive parcels from members of my mother's sewing circle containing pairs of pyjamas that she had asked them to make for me. These new pyjamas were of a style more suited to a young girl, very frilly with Peter Pan collars and decorated with childish patterns. Aunties insisted I sat down and write a thank you letter to everyone who had sent me a new pair of childish girls pyjamas. "Dear Aunty, Thank you ever so much for the lovely pyjamas you made for me. I was delighted to receive such a thoughtful present, and look forward to wearing them for you when you next visit." Aunty Dearest and my mother now frequently force me to parade around in a succession of frilly, babyish girls" pyjamas while my mother and her sewing circle discuss the merits of babyish girls" pyjamas as an effective means of discipline. If I am lucky, I am allowed to kiss everyone night-night and scuttle off to bed without receiving a spanking for some imagined indiscretion. If I am unlucky, I will be allowed to “stay up late” until seven o’clock and endure an hour of being sat upon various laps and fussed over in a most humiliating way before I would finding myself going over someone's lap and receiving a painful hand spanking before being despatched to bed. If I was allowed to stay up an extra hour I would pay for it the next day as I would be put to bed at five o'clock because I was “overtired”