Aunty has decided I am available for light dusting duties and has arranged for me to attend her various friends houses dressed in my "Household Chores" outfit of pink brushed nylon pyjamas and a matching bed jacket.

A New Schedule for Jean-Luc

Sunday
I am 18 years old and I am going to live with my Aunt Helen and her children Danny, 14 and Edith, 9.
My mother warned me that at Aunt Helen's the discipline was a lot stricter than at home but that it would be necessary to obey since I was a guest. I was going to share my cousin’s room.
My mother and my young sister Gabby accompany me to my Aunt’s for Sunday lunch. After the meal, Helen asks Danny to show me the school that I will attend the following day.
“Have a nice walk but don’t be too long. You know that you must go to bed early on Sundays,” she says to her son.
We are back one hour later.
“Well. Danny, take your cousin into your bedroom and help him to get settled. Then, put yourselves to bed immediately.”
Danny protests that it is not even four o’clock and that he hadn’t eaten yet. I am rather stunned and explain that I am not tired. Aunty Helen reminds Danny that as it is a Sunday he must go to bed earlier than during the week Since I am to share Danny’s bedroom I must got to bed at the same time, 18 years or not!
“No arguments off to bed!”

Mum tells me to do as I am told and not to argue. Meanwhile Edith has a large smile on her lips and my sister Gabby looks pleasantly surprised that I have to go to bed early.
“I will come with Gabby to say goodbye and good night after we eat,” adds mum.
I follow my cousin to our room. While I unpack, Danny folds back the sheets of his bed. I am taken aback to see him putting on a pink full length flannelette girls nightdress, he explains that Aunt Helen would not buy him pyjamas and that she insist he wear nighties. During the week he must go to bed after dinner, but because this Sunday it is already past dinner time he must go straight to bed as he has school in the morning.
I put my own rather babyish pale blue rocket ship pyjamas on and am astonished to discover we must deposit our daytime clothes in another room before sleeping. Danny explains it is to prevent him and now me from being tempted to get up once we are in bed.
Aunt Helen and my mother enter the room with Edith and Gabby giggling behind them. I am embarrassed at being seen by them dressed only in my rocket ship pyjamas and blush.
“You will use your potty if you need to go tinkle during the night”. Aunt Helen tells me.
I look bewildered as Danny thrusts what appears to be a baby’s potty into my hand. It is made of pink plastic. His, I now notice stands at the foot of his bed. It is like mine only pale blue.

Danny also confirms to me that Edith is not subject to the same bedtime rules that he is. She is allowed to stay up until after ten.
I can hardly believe we are in our beds at five o’clock of the afternoon. After half an hour I am wide awake, the sunlight prevents any chance of sleep. Then Edith and Gabby enter the room carrying trays of cereal. They place the trays across us as we are told to sit up in bed. Laughing, they attach bibs around our necks. I watch with stupefaction as my young cousin places a baby bottle on my nightstand.
“It is milk with honey and melatonin to help you sleep well, you must drink it all up like good little boys.
For Edith, this routine appears to be normal. I realise she is often put in charge of supervising her big brothers bedtime.
For Gabby, it is a new experience humiliating me this way. The girls watch as we eat our cereal and drink the milk from the baby bottle. Danny acts as if all this is quite normal. At first I refuse to drink from the bottle but Gabby threatens to tell mum and Aunt Helen and having been brought up to obey grown ups, I meekly comply.
Mum appears and announces that she and Gabby are leaving. I watch as Gabby closes the shutters and pulls the curtains shut.
“Goodbye, my poppets. Gabby and I are going to leave you now. Promise me you will obey your aunt and work hard at school. This baby monitor will let your Aunt Helen know if you and Danny talk in bed so you better behave. Now, go straight to sleep. You will find an early night will refresh you come tomorrow morning.
She kisses me tenderly and says goodnight to us both. They leave, locking the door behind them.
Monday
I am playing table tennis with Danny in the garden when, at about half past five, Aunt Helen orders us to prepare for dinner at six o’clock. I again don’t know what she means but I am appalled as Danny explains we must be dressed ready for bed before we can eat. Danny goes upstairs to put on his nightie. I challenge my Aunt about this ridiculous rule.
“Aunt Helen, Danny says I must put my pyjamas on before I can eat. That can’t be correct surely.
“Is Danny getting ready for bed?” She asked.
“Yes,” I replied, “he is putting his nightie on.”

“Then, you should do the same as him! Your mother and I have already told you.  You must obey the same rules as your cousin; even though you seem to think you are too old to do as you are told. Now go and put your pyjamas on at once.”
I reluctantly obey and find myself coming downstairs to dinner at six o’clock dressed in my pyjamas alongside Danny in his girl’s nightie.
I am surprised to find myself eating with another young girl. It is Astrid, a neighbour and friend of Edith’s. Edith explains to her that Danny and I will be going to bed as soon as we finish eating. Embarrassed, I quickly finish and start to leave the table. To my dismay Aunt Helen reprimands me for my bad manners and makes me return to kiss her and the two girls goodnight!
Tonight, it is Edith who supervises our bedtime. She arrives accompanied by Astrid. The two girls close shutters and curtains, switch on the monitor and turn of the ceiling light before locking us in.
“Sleep, big babies,” Edith shouts to us sarcastically. To be eighteen years old and to be put to bed at quarter past six by two nine year olds is frustrating and very embarrassing, especially when one can then hear them playing outside and laughing whereas one is already in bed for the night.
I find that I am sleepy. Me, who usually goes to bed at midnight, Milk, honey and melatonin seem efficient for making one sleep.

The following Sunday, it is Jenny; the girlfriend of Danny, who helps put us into bed immediately after our baths and  dinner. Not having any clean pyjamas, Aunt Helen made me put on a pink floral pair of hers! Aunt Helen says she prefers boys to wear soft feminine nightclothes as this makes us less boisterous and soothes us and that I must wear feminine pyjamas henceforth.  We hear Aunt Helen, Jenny and Edith go downstairs. Danny, acting out of character, quietly opens the shutters to watch by the window.  A neighbour noticed us and spoke of it to Aunt Helen who announces the following day to us that we will be punished
“Since you did not go straight to sleep last evening you both will go to bed immediately after school.” She announced on Monday morning.
“You will also, as a further punishment spend Wednesday afternoon in bed.”
Wednesday, we eat lunch in our nighthings, Danny in a long yellow flannelette nightie, myself in a pair of ludicrous blue floral girls pyjamas, then we are sent straight to bed. The most embarrassing thing occurs. Danny receives a visit from two girls from his class at school. It is not the first time they have found him tucked up in bed, but they are surprised that I am also bed punished. (And in feminine night attire!) They remain until Edith brings us our milk and tells them it’s lights out at four o’clock.
During the New Year’s Eve holiday, my mother and Gabby have come to visit. Much to my surprise my girlfriend Nadine was with them.
One particular afternoon Danny and Jenny plus Nadine and I were watching television. Edith and her friend Astrid were also hanging about.
Aunt Helen appeared and announced to the girls that it was our bedtime and she thought it would be a good idea if Danny and I were put to bed by themselves.
Danny protests, and I am more than upset to be put to bed at four o’clock in the afternoon by Nadine, my girlfriend. At least Jenny allows Danny some privacy to undress and to get himself into bed.
Nadine however, takes great delight in putting me to bed. She folds down my bed and takes my pyjamas from beneath the pillow. She insists on undressing me and slips my pink pyjama top around my shoulders and watches me step nervously into my pyjama bottom before tucking me into bed.
Jenny declares that she has better thing to do than baby-sit “two big babies in bed” and declares that she wants to return to watch television. Nadine agrees with her and kisses me night-night and tells me to go to sleep before we are once again left locked in our darkened room.
My worst punishment was inflicted on me because of my actions one Friday evening. I had been allowed to drive Aunt Helen's car to take the four of us to the movies. I dropped Danny and Jenny off and then Nadine and I went for a little drive around, just the two of us. Afterwards we picked them up and I drove back as if nothing had happened. Of course, once again a nosy neighbour of Aunt Helen’s had spotted us.
Aunt Helen was furious and decided to punish both of us even though Danny was blameless. She said he should have told her what happened when we returned.
Before lunch on Saturday, she made us go up to undress then to come down naked!
This time aunty handed us both very childish little girl nighties, I was given the pale lemon one and Danny the pink one. Once we had put them on aunty had to turn us around and fasten the little buttons at the back of the nighties meaning we could not take them off unaided. We then had to raise our nighties and were spanked on our bare bottoms!
For Danny, it was not the first time he had been punished this way but for me it was a new experience. We were made to stay in the corner our hands on our heads and with the hem of our nighties tucked into the collar exposing out poor red and sore bottoms for everyone to see.
Then at lunchtime we were sent to bed with a bottle of warm milk to drink in bed like babies. Before we were tucked in for the long night Aunt Helen informs us of further punishments.
Danny will be sent to bed early for a week and must stay in bed the whole weekend and the weekend after.
For me, it will be sterner. I will be sent to bed early for four full weeks.
That means straight to bed immediately after school. Bed punished the whole of Wednesday afternoon and the entire weekend from Friday afternoon to Monday morning. Usually I am allowed up until half ten or eleven pm on Friday and Saturday night so I am not happy. Sunday is not so bad because I usually am already in bed by four o’clock in the afternoon.
Danny and I have both been bed punished after disputes with Edith because we either monopolised the table tennis table one Saturday morning (She says!)  For that we were put to bed until Monday morning

Year-end holidays:
Christmas day, just before lunch, Danny refuses to lend his new electronic game to Edith. She cried of course and Aunt Helen tells him to go to bed. He protests vehemently up to the point that Aunt Helen pulls him by the ear to our room.  She makes him come down again shortly in his nightie and spanks his bottom in front of the whole family then sends him to bed.
At tea time Aunt Helen says I must take Danny his baby bottle up and one for myself, as I must also go to bed, at four o’clock on Christmas day! I put on my new Christmas pyjamas, they are white with Teddy Bears on them and I am so ashamed to be wearing them and drink my milk in the bedroom out of view. It is only three twenty-five when we bring back our empty bottles, wearing nightie and pyjamas respectively. Before going to sleep for the night, we must kiss and hug our guests, Aunt Helen, mum, Gabby and Edith goodnight!
They wish us “good night, little babies” sarcastically and we go to bed amid the laughter and the jibes of the women.
Aunt Helen reminds us again that we must brush our teeth and take our potties up for the night. She orders lights out immediately and prohibits us from chatting. She will supervise us thanks to the baby monitor. For us, Christmas ends at four o’clock.
Various:
At the start of the summer holidays we are sitting having a meal in the middle of the afternoon. Aunt Helen tells me that on Sunday’s our bedtime is as early as when we are at school and to go with Danny and put our nighties on.
Even though I promised mum to obey and respect Aunt Helen’s rules I protest that it is too early to go to bed in the summer and that I am not at all sleepy. However she becomes annoyed and threatens to spank me if I do not obey. Danny and I go upstairs to put our nightie and pyjamas on
He tells me this always happens during the summer months. I learn it is Aunt Helen’s usual bedtime timetable that must remain valid during summer time. Danny reminds me that we must still put our day clothes in another room and of the monitor that enables Aunt Helen to ensure our obedience. We are not allowed out of bed, to talk or even listen to the radio without her knowing. I am now well used to Edith and my sister Gabby making sure we take our potties to bed with us. Used to the girls closing the curtains and locking us in our room.
Often, Edith will shout down to her friends, leaning out of the window, looking at a beautiful clear blue sky, she will confide to her young friends that her brother is being put to bed and then tell them that her cousin is also being put to bed early even though he is eighteen and it is the summer holidays. She boasts that she and my sister are both younger than us but that they are allowed to play out in the sunshine.
“ Oh they must go to bed like babies,” she tells them as the girls all laugh. We can hear this conversation as we lie tucked up in bed.
“It is three thirty, time the babies were asleep and we can come and play until late.”
Cheekily she and Gabby will kiss us goodnight on the forehead. Gabby doesn’t fail to humiliate me.
“Good night, big brother, you really look so young and babyish in your little girls pyjamas, you deserve to go to bed so early! Holidays are great for playing outside for us, I hope that the noise we make won’t stop you from sleeping!”
I am too ashamed to retort. I turn my back without answering. Edith extinguishes my night-light and I hear the key turn in the lock. Danny and I exchange a whispered “Good night.” It is only half past three. Before sleeping, I can hear the girls playing outside.

On Tuesday morning, we annoyed the girls while they were playing. My Aunt reacted to Edith’s protests.
“Is that all that you two can find to do? To bother girls younger than you! Go and get your nightclothes on at once I'm sending you to bed, immediately!”
It was only ten o’clock in the morning. We went upstairs with bowed heads. Once we are tucked into bed I ask.
“ Aunty, is it necessary to close our shutters?” The answer is categorical.
“You are being bed punished! Therefore, you lie down immediately and go to sleep!
We remain silent and somnolent until lunchtime, then, our small sisters bring us trays in bed with obvious satisfaction! We must bring down our trays before going back to bed for the rest of the day.
The same thing happens when we monopolise the table tennis table. Before getting into bed for the day, I notice Edith, Gabby and the other kids leaving by bicycle!
Seeing me, Gabby shouts. “Go to sleep, nighty-night boy’s!”
Edith adds “Yes, with you in bed we don’t need the table anymore!”
The other little girls wave “goodnight” and move away laughing.
In fact, in the afternoon, in my dreams, I hear mingled with the laughter of our sisters and their girlfriends, the ping-pong sound of a table tennis ball.
The following morning, we simply watch the girls playing. I am content with observing whereas Danny, always vexed at having being bed punished because of his sister, applauds every point she loses. That irritates Edith, of course she complains to Aunty and we are sent back to bed. Although for my part I was innocent I did not protest because I know that it is useless. As we had already been punished the previous day, Aunty gave us a spanking in our room, in our nighties. The open window allows the girls to hear everything and the applause of the girls clearly indicate that they can discern the noise of a naked palm on naked behinds!
One rainy afternoon, so as we do not antagonise the girls, Aunty puts us to bed after eating lunch. We had in this case permission to read in bed until our tea. Then, it was bed for the night.
Aunt Helen put us to bed early when there was guests in the house.
When Edith had some of her friends around one afternoon. She even invited them to accompany her when she bought us our trays in bed and to tuck us in!
Danny was especially upset for he had planned an afternoon out with his girlfriend.
Instead he was lying in bed wearing his nightie. The window was, for a change open, I read a detective novel while Danny listened to the radio.  Edith entered our room in the company of two of her friends. She demanded the radio. Of course he didn’t want to lend it to her.
“You have a lot of cheek.” He shouted at her. “ It’s because of you I am in bed, you could at least allow me to listen to the radio!”
Of course she stormed off to complain to her mother who, as usual, immediately intervened in her favour. Aunt Helen came up with two baby bottles of milk.
She spanked us then said.
“If you are asleep, you won’t need a radio! Drink your milk, brush your teeth and I don’t want to hear a squeak out of the pair of you until tomorrow morning!”
She informs us also that we would be bed punished the following afternoon.
It poured with rain as we ate lunch at the kitchen table. We were already in our night things Aunt Helen decided our punishment was not sufficient, since we could not have left the house anyway due to the storm. To compensate, she consigned us to bed all afternoon the following day, this time with neither books nor radio!
I was 19 years old in August. It was a sunny Sunday and my mum and sister had come to celebrate my birthday. I hoped that on this occasion, I would not be obliged to go to bed in the middle of the afternoon.
I was wrong.

The birthday meal having been copious, Aunt Helen judged that no one would be hungry before the evening. After blowing out the candles on my cake. Aunt Helen ordered Danny and me to bed. Mum approved her decision immediately.
Among the gifts I had received was new pyjamas from my sister. Mum told me to go and fetch them so I could put them on in front of everyone and then wish my guest’s goodnight.
My new pyjamas were extremely feminine than even the ones Aunt Helen made me wear, and infinitely more childish. They were covered in motifs of Teddy Bears and Bunny Rabbits in a light pale pink colour and made from soft flannel. There was light elastic in the cuffs that were frilled and the pyjama top had a little Peter Pan collar that was also frilled.
Laughter and mock admiration of my pyjamas greeted me when I came to put them on and say goodnight. Edith bounded forward and said she also wanted to give me a present. It was a teddy bear to match my pyjamas! Mum laughed and made me hug the teddy bear as if I was a baby.
I had to kiss my small sister and my cousin to thank them and tell them how lovely and how pleased I was with my new pyjamas. Everybody was anxious to kiss me and to wish me “Happy Birthday” at the same time as “good night” at a quarter to two in the afternoon!”
Some of the women wanted to feel how soft the flannel of my new pyjamas was and I stood while they caressed the pyjamas feeling terribly embarrassed until Jenny, girlfriend of Danny, decided it was time we were in bed. She tucked us into bed before closing the shutters and curtains. Before leaving she kissed me again and wished me, “Happy Birthday and good night.”
I complained that Aunt Helen should have allowed me to stay up later on my birthday.
Jenny answered me severely by saying it was because, “You had beautiful gifts. You have been spoiled enough. Now, go to sleep in your lovely new pyjamas! Obey and show that you are a big boy!”

A Pyjama Punishment letter from PPM

Ever since we were married eight years ago I have always treated my husband as if he were an infant. It gives me great satisfaction that I have successfully regressed him to an almost baby like state and that, although he resents and despises his status, he can do nothing about it and endures his constant daily humiliations as he knows that without me he would end up in the gutter or worse.

Nevertheless, looking after my Babykins hubby is quite tiring and three or four times a year my sister Hettie invites us to visit.

During our stay Hettie takes it upon herself to take over Henry's regime completely and she treats him exactly like one would treat a naughty infant. 

She has a small, but serviceable baby's cot made up in her bedroom and it is here that, Babykins, as she  has comically named him, is put to bed each evening at six pm. She is most insistent that I relax and that she would, as she put it, “carry the burden for a while.” 

The bed is made up with infantile bedding, she has acquired a flannelette Thomas the Tank Engine duvet cover and pillowcase, after his bath, that she always supervises, she wraps him in a large bath towel, places his dummy in his mouth and lay two pairs of his most babyish pyjamas neatly on his bed.

“Now then Babykins, tell aunty which pair of jim-jams her big baby wants to wear to beddy-byes tonight.”


Poor Henry is usually forced to choose between a floral pair and a pair of his babyish pyjamas. She would cajole him into choosing a pair by pointing at the pyjamas, “will it be the pretty pink pair,” she would say, “or the sweet teddy bear pair?”

“Oh what a pretty choice,” she would exclaim whichever pair he reluctantly pointed at.
Sometimes, if he chooses a pair she does not really want him to wear she will say

"Do you know? Baby Babykins has chosen very well but I think we will save those for another night and pop you into the pink pyjamas with the pretty flowers on don't you agree?

Henry will  slowly nod his head, knowing that in reality he has no choice at all,

“Come along now let’s get you all ready for sleepy-byes time.” She urges enthusiastically, taking his hand and leading him to the changing table.

Hettie takes her time nappying Henry. She would put on thin latex gloves and use her hands to apply plenty of oil, cream and talcum powder. 

"We don't want our little Babykins to get a nappy rash do we?" She would ask him until he would be forced to slowly shake his head. 

She particularly enjoys milking Henry before he is nappied. His legs are elevated  and she will  begin to explore the area around his rosebud by circling it with her finger as she lathers it with oil and cream before penetrating it. 
She will probe gently and tentatively first before deepening her thrust until his prostate is located and massaged. Simultaneously Henry will become stiff with excitement and she expertly manoeuvres his tiny shaft until he sheds his supply of semen.

I am sure as a mature lady she finds this more amusing than anything sexual and I know for certain Henry feels nothing but sheer frustration and embarrassment. Once his milking is completed Hettie will envelop him in a thick towelling nappy and plastic pants purely for the humiliation and embarrassment factor. 

"Then now, little Babykins is all nappied weddy for beddy-byes isn't he?" She loved eliciting responses from him no matter how reluctant his reply was and she would persist until he answered.

 "Yeth Auntie," will come the almost whispered response before she laughs and tickles his tummy.

Henry would be pyjama clad with the same deliberate question and answer style. 

"What a lovely colour pink your pyjamas are aren't they?"

"Won't you be a cosy-wosy Babykins wearing these lovely warm jim-jams?"

"You love being buttoned up into your jimmy-jams don't you Babykins?"

"Babykins does love sucking on his dummy before beddy-byes doesn't she."

Each time Hettie waits until she receives a satisfactory response from the hapless  Henry before she continues. 

Eventually, when he is successfully nappied, pyjamaed and slippered she guides him by hand back to wherever I am sitting, whether that was indoors or, more often outside in the garden with friends of both mine and Hettie.

“Say night-night nicely now Babykins” Hettie will urge making Henry remove his dummy, as he goes around the group of ladies kissing each in turn goodnight and  enduring many cuddles and vocal admiration of his chosen pyjamas. Also much to his chagrin and embarrassment, Hettie makes him pause, turn and wave babyishly just before they disappear from view inside the door.

Once tucked into his cot she sits with him and reads a delightfully babyish bedtime story called “The Going to Bed Book” by Sandra Boynton. I can thoroughly recommend it, it's about animals on a boat that have to go below deck at bedtime to brush their teeth and put their pyjamas on. I sometimes stand in the doorway and listen as Hettie repeats this story every bedtime to Henry. It must irritate him immensely to hear the same story night after night  especially as she tells it with such enthusiasm and relish each time.



Eventually she closes the book and leans over the cot to kiss his forehead.

“Now promise aunty you will go straight to sleep like a good tired little Babykins,” 
Henry has to nod his head, as he sucks on his dummy.

“And there will be no more undoing the buttons of our jimjams will there or auntie will have to fetch the punishment mittens won’t she? ” 

His head shakes from side to side, Hettie became annoyed that his pyjamas were always unbuttoned each morning when she woke him, so she made him some special mittens that stopped him undoing the buttons. Henry hated the mitten so much that he soon learnt to keep his pyjama buttoned up.

“Goodnight then Babykins, of to sleepy-byes with you.” Hettie theatrically tiptoes away leaving the door slightly ajar in case “baby wakes up and needs a cuddle.” 

I will tell more about Hettie’s time with Henry if anyone is interested soon.

Ms Isabella Hackworth

Father and Son Bed Punished

This posting came about because Freddie, a loyal reader and commenter to the blog, had corresponded  with Luc Holly and translated the emails very well from the original french. They consisted of mainly chatty, anecdotal bits and pieces that I have strung together to form a narrative. Hopefully Luc, or whatever name he chooses to use, will re-appear and give us further insight into his early bedtime lifestyle as enforced by his wife and her family.
My thanks go to Freddie for persevering with this.


Dear Freddie

Thank you for writing to me.

Yes, we are still being bed punished by my wife Julianne and her family, in fact since we last talked she has intensified out humiliation. I have been given a stuffed animal for bed, it is a little dog with one ear missing. My wife insisted I thought  up a name for the stuffed animal although she rejected several suggestions I made until eventually I was made to settle on Poochikins. Jordan, my son, was given a little teddy bear and he was told he had to call it Teddikins. We also both been given babies rattles and a dummy each.Then a few weeks ago, our beds were replaced by cribs for adults.

My wife and her sister told us that since we behaved like little babies we deserved to be treated like babies. We now have several “babysitters”. The most frequent is my mother-in-law, Maryse. She is also the one who bathes us. She is very strict, she regularly puts us to bed very early and she smacks our bottoms for the slightest reason, such as forgetting to carry Poochikins or Teddikins when we are dressed for beddy-byes, perhaps because of a word out of place or some other perceived disobedience.

Sometimes it is even her young secretary Candice who is only sixteen, comes to tuck us into bed, usually when my wife and her mother are going out. They want to be sure that Jordan and me are in our nightclothes and tucked up in our cribs very early so we cannot misbehave in their absence. Although the secretary is very strict also.

In principle, yes we are made to go to bed at the same time, 6 o'clock at the latest, It so happens that when I am the one being given an all-day punishment, Jordan is allowed to stay up and dressed until four pm. In contrast, when it is Jordan who is being punished, I have to go bed with him and stay there,  with blinds down, curtains drawn, lights out and our dummies tied on so that there is no talking. Also if he is spanked for naughtiness then I am given a smacked bottom also as they say his misbehaviour is my responsibility.

On Sunday mornings, sometimes the twins, Agnes and Astrid bathe us before our bedtime while Julianne and Maryse are getting ready and before Candice arrives. What's more the twins don't hesitate to spank our naked and wet backsides, which really hurts and actually makes us whinge and cry.
One Saturday morning they had a competition as to which of them would give us the hardest spanking and make us cry the loudest. Jordan cried first but I cried loudest. It was Astrid who gave the hardest spanking. My mother-in-law was disturbed by the noise and came to see what the trouble was ending with Jordan and I being punished for making too much noise, we spent  the whole weekend in bed, to make it worse it was the twins who fed us our bottles of milk and spoon fed us our pureed food in bed before locking us up in our cribs in the dark.

Another time, one afternoon when Candice was bathing Jordan, (I had already been spanked and put to bed earlier by my wife for answering back and I was already tucked up hugging Poochikins and sucking on my dummy). The two of them were messing about in the bathroom. Jordan didn't stop throwing water when Candice told him to. She became angry and slapped his face then spanked my son who had really earned it. After hauling him out of the bath and drying him he was put into his naughty pyjamas, the pink frilly ones with bunny rabbits on. Jordan really dislikes and is ashamed at wearing those pyjamas, (I have a yellow pair), and he tried to resist being dressed in them. Candice pulled him by the ear, crying like a baby, to the living room where my wife and mother-in-law each gave him another spanking and put him in the corner making him hug Teddikins and suck his thumb like a baby as their guests arrived. Every female could see him in his girly pink pyjamas, clutching his teddy bear and sucking his thumb as he sobbed with shame and embarrassment. Then, when I was already asleep, I was dragged out of my crib to the bathroom to clear up the mess in the bathroom, putting right what my son had done. When I had cleaned the bathroom up my nightie was wet and Candice returned with my yellow frilly bunny rabbit pyjamas and made me put them on. I was taken downstairs and paraded in front of all the ladies there and put in the corner hugging Poochikins beside Jordan, the only difference being I was there with my dummy in place.
Eventually we were made to say night-night to all the ladies, they laughed at us and waved us bye-bye. “Hope you enjoy the long hours in beddy-byes you darlings”, they taunted.
Back up the stairs, Candice and mother-in-law spanked us before making both of us go to sleep.

My wife Julianne use to be my assistant in the office which I owned and ran. She was beautiful, ambitious, authoritative, determined and competent.Little by little, taking my place as boss. She accompanied me to negotiations with possible customers in another city  and we stayed in the hotel where the meeting took place, in neighbouring rooms. When we were negotiating with our commercial partners, she didn't agree with my arguments. After contradicting me several times, she excused us for "a few moments" and asked me to follow her. She was angry and told me off for saying such stupid things to our negotiating partners.
She asked for the key to my room at reception and made me go  up with her. I thought we were going to have further sensible discussions but instead, once we were in the room she told me, "undress at once, I want to see you into your pyjamas and in bed immediately!"

I was so taken aback that I neither spoke nor reacted. She was impatient and slapped me. "Quickly get undressed. I must go back to our colleagues to put right your stupid remarks and I don't want you under my feet."
I tried to protest, spluttering my objections which earned me another slap. I should have put my foot down there and then and fired her, instead  I started to undress like a naughty little boy who is ashamed and afraid of mummy’s anger. When I was quite naked, she handed me my pyjamas jacket. I took my pyjama top in a rather dazed state and I was shaking with fear and anger that I could not do up the buttons.
“Tsk, come here, look at you, as helpless a baby, let mummy help babykins.” She said in a sneering kind of way. She  then buttoned up my pyjama jacket for me then held open the pyjama bottoms too.
 “Come along,” she urged, “footsie into your jim-jams, that’s a good boy, now the other one. Clever babykins, there all ready for night-night.”

She pulled back the bedclothes, “Now, in you get, you are going to stay in beddy byes until I say otherwise. I shall lower the blinds and draw the curtains so that you can rest and sleep a long time. She moved  the sheets to one side and I slid in while she tucked me in. I tried to protest once more, perhaps on reflection a bit too late. “But I’m not sleepy.” I argued.
"That's fine. What's more, I am not putting you to bed because you need to sleep but because you are being punished for your behaviour.”
She picked up my things before leaving. "There we are. Sleepy byes time for the naughty boy. I am going down now to put right your utter stupidity . Believe me, it's for your own good. I am going to explain that you are unwell and I have had to put you to bed and that you are going to stay there for some time.”
So that was the very first time Julianne put me to bed for the afternoon As she was keeping my clothes in her room, I had no option but to stay in bed until we left. But she was right: she was much better at negotiating than I was and she won some really lucrative contracts for us. By way of contrast, I had lost all authority with her and as I was madly in love with her she got everything of mine: marriage, our home, the company and its presidency. Eventually she sold up and concentrate on the submission and obedience of both my son and me. So, I knew, before we were married that she was dominant, authoritarian and severe and that  my future was likely to be a bed punished one. To have to go to bed early each day is often annoying and embarrassing but it is an inconvenience that my son and I accept.

Luc

Naughty Boy Humiliated and Spanked By Strict Nanny

Peter barely looked up as Miss Kettering entered the room. He was in his favourite position, lounging lengthways on the sofa, his dirty trainer’s imprinting muddy footmarks 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 women 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 woolen 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 sisters 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 Peters mobile jingled into life with one of those absurd ring tones.
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 bedfast 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.







 

Nanny takes Control

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. Nanny has already stepped you into pink plastic baby pants and the elasticised legs are already beginning to annoy and frustrate.

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 over her blouse she wears a bibbed white apron, to the bibbed front is pinned a nurse's watch.

You watch as she irons methodically, concentration absolute as she defies creases to disobey her. She is aware you are observing her through the mirror and crooks a finger.
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 down your body. You have taken a sharp intake of breath as the nightdress envelops your body. The softness of the white flannelette caresses your chest, your arms, your legs. It even extends down to your ankles until finally the material rests gently upon your feet. Nanny stands behind you  and fastens the four buttons that encases your neck in the flannelette. She reaches around and raises the deliberately starched frilled lace collar until it resides perfectly positioned to irritate 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, lambswool 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 so you face her, from Nanny's apron pocket you see in her hand your greatest dislike about your bedtime punishment regime;  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 as nonexistent as your hearing as the night bonnet is tied into place; all you are aware of are white frills.


Nanny reaches into the pocket of her apron and gleefully shows you your sleepy time dummy, the rubber teat of the dummy seems to taunt you with its impending intrusion into your mouth.The mouth guard is threaded with lengths of pink ribbons She pins the ribbons 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 the dummy hang, 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 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 calves, then at your next step against your thighs and legs. You tremor slightly as you sit on the side of the bed. Nanny’s hands embrace your ankles and you are swivelled onto the bed. Your head is lowered into a pillow 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 at the ceiling beyond the frills of your night bonnet, 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 and legs 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. Her lips are moving but you cannot hear any sound, you can however lip read the words, “open wide for Nanny.”

Nanny squeezes your cheeks and as your mouth involuntarily forms an “o” shape, 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, even with the constraint of the chest bandage securing you to the bed you manage to intake air through your nose, the few seconds of panic are over as you realise you can breathe, all you you have to do is remain calm. You sense Nanny's at 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 breathing becomes slightly more panicked 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 flare your nostrils in the search for air as you feel the weight of the duvet crashing upon you. It too is worked its way under the mattress by Nanny until you sense she is right beside you. Without doubt you are pinioned to the bed. Without hope of release until Nanny has decided otherwise. Without saying, 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 looking down at you through the frills of your night bonnet, again she is talking as silently as before as she tweaks and adjusts the frills to her satisfaction. You can see the time on her watch as she fusses with your bonnet, you are being put to bed at ten past five in the afternoon.

 You suck heavily on your dummy as you digest the time and try to work out how many hours you will be confined to bed. Nanny blows you a kiss and you lipread her saying, “night-night Babykins”. Nanny moves out of view and the room darkens. The curtains have been 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 and your attempts to breathe rhythmically through your dummy.
You also can hear the imaginary clock in your head that begins to tick away the long hours of silence and darkness that engulf you.