A nightmare scenario?

“Don’t forget Philip’s nappy bag Nanny,” trills the mischievous schoolgirl as she adjusts his bonnet. “ I am sure Philip will be needing a nappy change by the time we reach the school gates.”

Nanny laughed. “Well I imagine he will, especially as you intend to feed him that extra bottle in front of your school friends.”

“You can change him in the sixth form room again if you like,” connived Stephanie.

“Don’t you want to change his nappy?” Asked Nanny. “I should think your friends would be impressed.”

“Oh Nanny may I? That would be wonderful!”

Stephanie playfully tweaked Philip’s nose as they set off.

“Nanny…?” she said as they approached the school gates. “You are going to bring Philip back again when school finishes at 3.30pm aren’t you?”

Nanny frowned. “I don’t know Stephanie, you know Philips bedtime is 4 o’clock”

“I have an idea,” said the wicked girl. “Why don’t you put Philip into his jim-jams before you come to meet me? That way we can tuck him straight into beddybyes when we get home.”

Nanny smiled. “Stephanie you are incorrigible. I suppose there will just happen to be a few of your friends with you when we arrive? Oh very well.”

Nanny leant over to Philip. “Well baby Philip we shall have to pick you out a pair of pretty pyjamas for you to wear for your afternoon walk. Which ones would you like to wear to meet the girls?”

Philip shook his head violently. “Mmmmmmpffff!”

Nanny laughed out loud at his muffled protest.

They stopped at the school gates. Philip’s bladder was already at bursting point as Stephanie prepared his extra bottle. He knew he would soon have to endure Stephanie changing his nappy.

Stephanie plucked out his dummy with a “plop” and pushed the teat of the bottle into his reluctant mouth.

“Poor Babykins, Stephanie thinks Nanny should make baby wear his extra cosy frilly pink brush nylon pyjamas this afternoon. After all we don’t want baby catching a chill do we?”

Nanny smiled at Stephanie. “Well young lady I think you are absolutely correct. Philip will look lovely in those pink jimmy-jams. You will make an excellent babysitter for Philip this weekend.”

Stephanie smiled to herself, as she made sure Philip drank up all his milk. She stroked Philip’s cheek.

“Oh yes Nanny. I will have lots of fun with your husband this weekend!”

Peterkins Pyjamakins. A letter from Pyjama Punishment Monthly

Dear Nanny Smackbottom

Please accept my thanks for your help in turning my husband Peter into a delightful little babykins these days he is completely unrecognisable from the unruly spoilt brat he once was.

I have followed your advice to the letter. At 5pm exactly I run his bath and lay out his pyjamas. Last night he wore the yellow bunny rabbit pyjamas that you thoughtfully provided the pattern number for. (It didn't take my mother long to sew them) After his bath I soon had him dressed ready for bed. Once he is wearing his jim-jams he must, as you recommend, be addressed by and answer to only his baby name.

It was great fun, each of us devising a name and as you advised, we ended up putting them into a hat and making him "choose" his own baby name. Peter Peepeepants, Lindy Lollipops and Susie Sugar Plum were all excellent but my mother's suggestion, Peterkins Pyjamakins was the one that came out of the hat. (His baby bonnet actually).

At first he was quite reluctant to answer to his baby name but luckily my mother spent twenty minutes with him draped over her lap while she persuaded him otherwise. Mother only has to take off one of her pink furry slippers and he rushes into my arms, fearful of a spanking.

"Is Peterkins Pyjamakins fwightened of Mrs Slipper den?" She will tease, laughing as he clings babyishly to me while she brandishes her slipper mischievously.

My sister never misses a chance to tease him either. She called around at 5.30 last night when of course he was already dressed for beddybyes.

"Oh look at the ickle baby in his pwetty jim-jams, whoever could it be? Tell Aunty Susan what your name is sweetheart?" She asked.

He shuffled his bunny slippered clad feet and turned beetroot red but Susan was prepared to persevere to get the response she wanted.

"Peterkins Pyjamakins" he mumbled.

"Oh dear, Aunty Susan knows you can do better than that let's try again shall we?"

His eyes flickered from me to my mother. "Mummy and Nanny can't help you, what is your name?"

"Please Aunty Susan my name is Peterkins Pyjamakins."

The three of us howled with laughter while my husband stood with his head bowed and looking very foolish and babyish wearing his bunny rabbit pyjamas and slippers.

After he has kissed and waved night-night to Aunty Susan and Nanny and they have fussed over him, adjusting his pyjama bottoms and smoothing down his pyjama jacket collar, I take him up to bed at 6pm. As you so rightly said, Peterkins has benefited from a regular bedtime. He now sleeps in the spare bedroom. Nursery rhyme paper decorates the walls and apart from a soft pink carpet there is only a small child's bed and a chair that I sit on to read him his bedtime story.

I make sure the curtains are tightly closed so that no chink of daylight can intrude. Of course at first he was upset at having to go to bed at 6pm but I was able to cure him of that. One evening despite receiving a spanking Peterkins was still having a tantrum about going to beddy-byes. I tethered him to the washing line by putting baby reins over his teddy bear jim-jams and sat him on his baby rug. Peterkins had nowhere to hide and once Miss McPherson our neighbour spotted him over the garden fence and decided to have a little chat there has been hardly a murmur of objection. If there ever is a tantrum brewing about bedtime I only have to say, “shall I fetch your baby reins?” And he toddles off to bed, as good little babykins should.

Before bedtime I pin him into his nighttimes nappies. Since you recommend two baby bottles of milk at bedtime it has become essential that he is securely nappied and protected with rubber pants.

Once he is safely tucked into bed I pin the ribbon attached to his dummy to his pyjamas and pop the dummy into his mouth. These day's he accepts it quite readily and there is no need to tie it in place. I tuck his dolly, Flora Frillikins in beside him and spend ten minutes reading from his book of bedtime stories that my mother thoughtfully bought for Peterkins Pyjamakins birthday. Then it's lights out and off to sleepy-byes for Peterkins.

As you suggested, at the weekend he is punished for any misbehaviour with over the knee spankings dressed in his pyjamas and put to bed immediately regardless of the time of day. Often on a Sunday when I return from my morning round of golf at 11 am, I am met by my mother dealing with a spanked, tearful, and pyjama clad Peterkins begging not to be put to bed at such an early hour. Of course his pleadings are ignored and on these occasions I always follow your advice not to overrule any decision made by my mother or sister or indeed any female who has reason to discipline Peterkins Pyjamakins.

With your permission I will give you another update soon.

Mrs Amelia Harecourt

A naughty boy wearing his pretty floral pyjamas is off to bed.

Aunty comes to visit and I earn a spanking

Aunty invited herself to stay when the snow became too deep for her to drive home. Of course, I immediately displeased her when I was obviously reluctant to give up my new king size bed for her.
"The spare room will be perfect for you aunty," I gushed, "see, that single bed is extremely comfy."
Big mistake. "Well, why don't you tell me how comfy it was in the morning because I'm putting you to bed in it right this minute! Now, where are your pyjamas”?

In no time aunty had buttoned me into my pyjama jacket, it was only 4.15 as aunty made me step into the voluminous pyjama bottoms and pulled them up, tucking the jacket inside the elasticised waistband of the pyjama bottoms. "There now, already for beddy-byes but first someone has earned a bedtime spanking."

Foolishly I asked her in my most petulant voice if she was the one who had earned a spanking. Needless to say, she was not amused and proceeded to tan my pyjama clad backside with one of her size 12 slippers until I begged her to stop. Once I had apologised for my behaviour aunty gave me a hug and tucked me into bed.
Will I never learn?

A pyjama punishment with added spice.

As soon as I saw mum approaching with the pyjamas draped over her arm I knew I was in trouble. Even though it was only three thirty in the afternoon and I had just recently celebrated my eighteenth birthday I knew I was bound for bed.

Mum always dressed in her matrons uniform to punish me. Even today, just seeing someone dressed in a dark blue uniform scares me. Mum took my hand and led me upstairs; I feared what she had in store for me.

The blue and white striped pyjamas I was wearing were several sizes too big for me; mum had purchased seven pairs as a job lot. Mum enjoyed dressing me in them; they were winceyette pyjamas, the bottoms fastened with a drawstring and the pyjama jacket buttoned to the neck. I had to clutch at the waist of the bottoms to keep them up as I was marched upstairs to my room.

Mum stood me in the corner and told me to put my hands on my head and not move until she returned. As I was unable to support my pyjama bottoms they slid slowly to my ankles. I stood there for a couple of minutes until I heard her return to the room. Mum lifted up my overlong pyjama jacket to expose my bare bottom; instinctively I tensed my buttocks as she patted my bottom with her hand.

“I hope you are going to be a brave boy for mummy,” she said, “ I will give you four, if you move I will start again from the beginning.”

Mum was very experienced and wielded the cane with practiced dexterity. The first strike always took my breath away and I almost tottered forward but recovered and kept my hands firmly on my head. Mum was excellent at varying the timing between each stroke of the cane so that I could never anticipate any of the blows. The second one made me cry out, this she didn’t mind, in fact it would have pleased her that she had “broken” me so quickly on this occasion, usually I lasted longer. After the third one I could feel the welts rising and I was physically crying, I begged her to stop but she insisted I stand and accept the fourth. I waited a long time, longer than I ever had before. I heard the swish then felt the sting. Somehow I remained resolute and maintained my position.

I heard her leave the room, mum always kept her canes in her room for some reason, I still didn’t move.

She returned and I heard her lower the side of the cot. She ordered me to sit on the plastic covered mattress.  I shuffled to the cot; my pyjama bottoms still bunched around my ankles and winced in pain as I sat on the cold mattress.

Mum went to the dresser and took out a baby’s dummy still in its packaging. She removed it and tied ribbons to the dummy’s ring. Knowing from experience that refusing to accept the dummy would only cause me further punishment I meekly closed my mouth around the teat of the dummy while she tied it in place.

From the same drawer mum produced my punishment bonnet. The bonnet was a frilled peek-a-boo style of white cotton that totally restricted my peripheral vision. Mum fastened the bonnet under my neck with ribbons; she tied them so tightly that there was no way of shaking the bonnet off.

Once she was satisfied my dummy and bonnet were securely tied mum told me to lie down on the mattress. For some reason I hesitated and tried to protest at her treatment of me. Unfortunately all that emanated from was  “mmmmphhh!” 

Mum pushed backwards onto the mattress and secured my wrists in the padded leather cuffs that were affixed to the bars at the head end of the cot.

Mum then told me to turn and face the wall, this was slightly difficult with my hands secured but I managed to twist my body so that my bottom was again exposed to my mums view. She examined my bottom with her hands.

“My that does look sore,” she commented. “I had better get you something for that.”

She returned and I heard the ominous sound of a rubber glove being snapped on. “Now my baby boy stay very still.”

Mums rubber encased finger began to enter my rosebud.  “Mmmmphhh”, I moaned through the teat of the dummy as she worked her finger deeper into me. Then she was pushing; something uncomfortable was invading my bottom. 

Then I became aware of the unmistakable aroma of ginger.

“Mmmmphhh, mmmmphhh!”  I started to panic and tried to resist and expel the root but she had one hand firmly planted in the small of my pyjama clad back whist she forced the foreign object into my anus. Finally my sphincter muscle closed and mum patted my bottom.

“There, it won’t be long until that piece of ginger makes it’s presence felt and I’ve just enough left to tend those nasty looking weal’s on you bottom.”

Mum proceeded to rub the juice of the ginger into my bottom.  As she pulled up my pyjama bottoms and tied them tightly around my waist the ginger was already beginning to take effect. Externally my bottom was already on fire, and internally I was just beginning to feel the initial warming begin.

Mum secured my ankles in the same manner as my wrists. I was now secured in the cot lying on my back wearing oversized blue striped pyjamas a frilled baby’s bonnet with a baby’s dummy secure in my mouth. Mum peered down at me through the narrow confines of my baby bonnet.

“Now you just lie there and squirm and reflect on your behaviour babykins,” she said as she pulled up the rail of the cot. “Night night!”

Still more from Pyjama Punishment Monthly

Dear Pyjama Punishment Monthly

I too enjoy wearing women's pyjamas, winceyette ones or brushed cotton or brush nylon. In fact any type that could be described as granny style pyjamas. This all stems from when I was 9 and I had to go and live with my aunt and her daughter who was 4 years older than me. From the very start I was subject to a very strict bedtime routine. Upon arrival I was bathed and my aunt searched my belongings for my pyjamas but my mother (who was very ill) had forgotten to pack any. "Well I am not wasting money buying you pyjamas," I was told, "you'll just have to wear your cousins old pyjamas. So that very first day I was dressed in my cousin’s winceyette pyjamas. Off course they were always pink or yellow with flowers or teddy bears on them and had frilly elasticised cuffs on the sleeves. My bedtime was set at 6.30 and I had to put my pyjamas on as soon as I arrived home from school. Sometimes if my aunt was going to be out I had to wait to walk home with my cousin and she would say in front of her friends, "Straight into your pyjamas when we get home mind, I think you should wear your cosy pink pyjamas tonight." And they would all giggle. If I annoyed my aunt when we out shopping at the weekend she would often say things like, "right, when we get home you are putting your pyjamas on and after I have spanked you you're going straight to bed." My cousin would often tell my aunt that I had been cheeky or naughty at school and I would be punished with a spanking and an early bedtime on Saturday and Sunday, Like ready for bed I was regularly in my girls winceyette pink floral pyjamas by 2pm and in bed by three. Because I was small this went on until I was in my late teens when I eventually escaped their clutches by going to university. When I returned for the holidays though I was quickly dressed back into a pair of ladies pyjamas and spanked before being put to bed early.

Ready4bed