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.