Pyjamas and Slippers are the punishment clothing items of choice for these two strict maternal aunties who also use nappy punishment and spankings to maintain discipline in their households.

Dear Mrs Y

Thank you for your letter. I have bought Michelle up to wear ladies slippers and pyjamas and because of this he is mostly very well behaved, he has learnt over the years to respect his elders, and although he still misbehaves himself I have a firm grasp of the discipline he requires.

I put my success down to making him always wear pretty fluffy slippers, which I started many years ago to stop him turning out to be an ill-mannered boy. I insisted he wore traditional full fur collar girl’s slippers with fur lining, which I always used to buy in Marks & Spencer’s here in the UK. They used to sell them in a variety of pretty pastel colours, and I was able to get his school slippers there too, as they sold a nice royal blue colour, which matched his school, uniform.

At home he wore this same style of girl’s slipper, but for bedtime and for Sunday best I used to put him in pretty pink full fur collar slippers with a perky bow on the slipper collar to make each slipper more attractive and dress him in equally pretty floral winceyette pyjamas.

When visiting friends and family I would make him take his bedroom slippers in his slipper bag, which he was made to take everywhere. Fortunately even when he was older his feet where quite small, and at sixteen and he was able to wear this style of slipper with his long white socks, which made his slippers highly visible, and I used to be often asked why he was wearing pretty girl’s slippers when we were out shopping.

It certainly kept him quiet, and I never had the problems that other mothers had, as he was keen to stay indoors to do his chores after finishing his homework because of his slippers and pyjamas.  Other than church on Sunday, the only time that he was allowed out was to go to dance classes, which I thought were important, and there he mixed with some well behaved young ladies.  I used to make him wear his bedroom slippers for dance classes, and would change him into his slippers before I left and took his old slippers home in my bag so he had to wait in class for me to return to take him home.

Quite often I would try to get a pair of little fur bootee slippers with cartoon characters on the slipper front to make the slipper more attractive and by adding some bells to the pom-poms of his slippers the jingling drew people’s attention to his slippers and embarrassed him further, so he learned to walk elegantly and carefully, so the bells did not jingle and people might not see his childish slippers.

What surprises me is that so many mothers put their little boys in Mary Jane shoes, but I must say that girl’s slippers on a boy make them more obedient, and his friends can see constantly that he is in his slippers. By always having his feet inside a fur lined slipper, it also stops many accidents in the home or when out shopping.
At home he is the slipper monitor and has to warm and fetch my slippers when I come home and gently put them on my feet, before making me a cup of tea. My sister and her two girls get their slippers warmed by Michelle when they are staying here too.

Anyway, I thought I would update you on my personal success in disciplining Michelle with his slippers being worn for all occasions. I do think that all boys should have girl type slippers and pyjamas on indoors, and not wear shoes on the carpet.

I would like to hear if other mothers have had similar success, and whether they insist like I do that a pair of pretty fluffy pink slippers and pink floral pyjamas are worn at all times in the home. 
Keep up the good work,

Mrs Kendrick.















Dear Mrs Kendrick

How wonderful to read about fluffy slippers and pyjamas being used as effective petticoat discipline. I have used slippers and winceyette pyjamas as a tool to keep my husband under control.

Hubby had become undisciplined and downright cheeky, and grounding him and deprivation of privileges had no effect on his behaviour. For many years I ran a small guesthouse exclusively for retired ladies. One of my guests, Miss Fulsham first advised me of the wonderfully calming influence that a pair of fluffy slippers and some floral winceyette pyjamas can be on a troublesome male.

 Now hubby must always wear slippers indoors, fur collar ones in various feminine colours.
The wearing of winceyette pyjamas enhances hubby’s punishment. Miss Fulsham used to take great care in selecting his pyjamas for him. Something that embarrassed him greatly, she favoured old-fashioned floral winceyette pyjamas, lovely and warm on chilly nights. Nowadays my husband spends the evenings dressed in his pyjamas and slippers, sitting quietly until it is his bedtime. At seven thirty on work nights he says goodnight to everyone and I take him upstairs to tuck him into bed.
Thank you for bringing slipper discipline to a wider audience. I can certainly vouch for their efficacy.

Mrs Y.










Dear Mrs Y

I was delighted to read about your husbands pyjama and slipper discipline and am pleased you agree that an ill mannered male can be have his behaviour improved by the wearing of childish slippers and little girls pyjamas. Dressed in them permanently Michele has been brought up to wear his slippers whenever he is indoors, and I have a style of slipper which I make him wear too when we are out shopping, which is more durable for outdoors, but equally humiliating.

Moreover, I have found that wearing childish slippers and pyjamas at all times negates the need for Mary Jane sandals, which did not improve Michele’s behaviour enough, so pretty slippers are now worn constantly as a reminder that Auntie has a ‘special’ slipper which is not so comfortable for Michele. After a difficult start Michele has now accepted that his house slippers are put on when required, and he is not allowed to touch either slipper, or remove a slipper, without my permission.

At the start he would try to remove his pyjamas and slippers when I was not looking, or would try to slip them off when guests came to the house, but I quickly corrected this disobedience with three strokes from the rubber sole of my full fur collar slipper on his pyjama bottoms. The additional humiliation would be that his terry nappies and plastic pants would now be very obvious, and I would stand him in the corner with his pyjama bottoms pulled down to his ankles to show off his nappies and baby pants. It did not take long before he learned not to misbehave, and now he waits patiently while I choose which girls’ slippers he must wear each day, as he now has an extensive slipper collection for all occasions.

Here is a picture. The floral winceyette pyjamas he is wearing ensure there will be no sneaking out to play football or such nonsense while the prettily jingling bells on the pom-poms also draw attention to Michele’s big fluffy bunny slippers so that I can hear where Michele is when I am in the kitchen and know he still has his slippers on like a good boy should!

I do hope you write again with more of your husband’s experience of floral winceyette pyjamas and furry slippers!
Best wishes

Mrs J Kendrick














Dear Mrs Kendrick,

How delighted I was to read about Michele’s slipper discipline. I congratulate you on your success in maintaining strict control over your nephew, and how correct you are in using the slipper on a misbehaved bottom to restore order!
I discovered the beneficial effects of insisting males wore female slippers through my mother’s excellent disciplining of my younger brother, and how it generally improved his behaviour around the house, and prevented him from ‘showing off ’ in front of guests.
It is now my husband who is the disobedient little boy and who attempts to avoid wearing his slippers and pyjamas, I too find it necessary myself to administer a spanking when my husband is impertinent enough to complain about wearing his cosy slippers. I leave them in the hallway, ready for him to wear when he returns home from work. You will not be surprised how many times I have to send him back to put them on. He protests and complains but he soon shuffles his feet into the slippers after I threaten him with a taste of the slipper sole upon a pyjama-clad bottom.
I think your idea of tinkling bells attached to the pom-poms of Michele’s slippers is inspired. There is now no chance of him removing his slippers without your permission.
Making him stand with his pyjama bottoms around his ankles while exposing his nappies and baby pants is also a wonderful disciplinary tactic, and something I would like to attempt on my husband. How many terry nappies do you use, and do you buy special baby pants or just use regular chemist purchases?
I notice from the picture that you also keep him attired around the house in winceyette floral pyjamas. These are excellent for establishing a compliant sissy male in conjunction with an appropriate pair of slippers.
I usually allow him to wear his normal clothes as long as he has his pretty girly slippers on, but when my mother and my sister visit I prefer him to be ready for bed wearing winceyette pyjamas very similar to the ones Michele is wearing.
Hubby would prefer to be put to bed before they arrive, rather than be seen in his sissy slippers and pyjamas, but I find it better to delay his departure to bed until they have arrived. It is very satisfying to witness him scurrying off to bed with the sound of female laughter ringing in his ears.
May I ask you if you have set your nephew a regular bedtime? I have found my husband responds better to routine so I usually dispatch him off to bed at seven thirty, unless of course he has been a naughty boy, in which case I will put him to bed immediately.
I have included a picture of the slippers and pyjamas my husband was wearing during their last visit before I sent him to bed. I only have to buy slippers especially for him, as he has a smaller foot than mine, and pyjamas for his birthday and at Christmas but usually he wears my cast-off pyjamas, reluctantly off course.
Mrs Y.




 


 Dear Mrs Y,

It was good to see your letter explaining your experiences of using childish slippers and winceyette pyjamas on your husband to improve his behaviour. As I have experienced myself, the wearing of feminine slippers makes their behaviour so much gentler. Michele’s fluffy slippers are kept in the hallway too, and I change his slippers immediately when we get indoors from his outdoor zip bootee slippers to ensure he makes no dirty footmarks on the carpets. In the winter though, his slippers are warmed on the radiator and I make him kneel on the floor whilst I put on his slippers and check they are firmly held in position so there is no excuses if they are removed without my permission.

Like you, I have found that the addition of winceyette floral pyjamas is ideal for wearing around the house, as he can not easily stray too far from me, and I can keep an eye upon him. Does you husband also have a floral dressing gown to match, like Michele has?

A regular bedtime too is one that you identify as being a key point for discipline, and Michele has an early bedtime too, but first he is bathed and changed into his nighttime nappies at 6.00pm each night, with his special night bunny sleeper, and fluffy bunny slippers.

I do hope you tell us more about your experiences.
Best wishes,

Mrs J Kendrick






Dear Mrs Kendrick,

I was pleased to hear you have such effective control over your nephew. My husband is several years younger than myself, and I must confess that he still has his rebellious moments. I regret that I did not get the opportunity to discipline him into my ways at an earlier age.
My husband’s slippers are worn exclusively in the house; I admire your achievement in ensuring Michele wears his slippers outdoors as well. Does this attract any adverse comment?
I make my husband wear slippers without heels; consequently he has to shuffle around the house, making his whereabouts more obvious. As you say, the main problem is keeping an eye on errant males to keep them out of mischief.
 I am sure you agree what a relief it is sometimes to get him tucked safely into bed in the evening. The idea of a floral dressing gown to match his pyjamas is delightful and is something that I must explore for the chillier months ahead. 

 Is six o’clock Michele’s actual bedtime or just the time he is ready for bed? Does he wear his bunny sleeper and slippers without argument?

My husband has some very girlish pyjamas with pictures of sweeties on them that I call his ‘naughty sissy’ pyjamas. He has to wear them when he has especially displeased me but I usually have to cope with a tantrum before I can get him dressed in them ready for bed, because they are so babyish and frilly. Thankfully, I can rely on my mother and sister for assistance, as they are always available to help with discipline. On those occasions I usually administer a pyjama spanking before putting him to bed.

Here is a picture of him wearing them. Please continue to regale us with your successful slipper discipline regime.

Mrs Y

Dear Mrs Y

It was so good to hear from you again, and explain the situation regarding your husband’s slipper discipline.

I am pleased to hear that you continue to keep him in a controlled manner and that he is learning that a strict female hand keeps ill-mannered males in check.

For Michele I am pleased to say that his behaviour has been very good this past month, although we have had a few tantrums at bedtime, but with after a stroke of the cane he knew he had put on his fluffy bunny slippers for bedtime, and stop saying it was too hot to have his cosy winceyette pyjamas put on him for bed.  We have had a couple of wet beds this past week, but after the second occasion I increased his booster pad thickness, which he wears inside his terry nappies, and he has been dry in the mornings, which saves so much washing. I am so pleased his new plastic pants have been so effective too, much better than the previous style, which did leak around his legs at night. He has a bed wetter plastic fitted mattress on his bed at all times.

As for Michele’s bedtime, this is normally at 8 o’clock, but does get reduced to an earlier time if he has not behaved during the day. I do insist though that bath time is always at 5.30pm and night nappies, pyjamas, dressing gown, and bedtime bootie slippers, must be on him by 6.00pm, so I can sit down and have two hours reading before I put him to bed.

I know you asked about Michelle’s reaction to him having to wear his girlie slippers out when we go shopping, but there is no problem with this now, as he has become used to having childish slippers on. It’s all about how early you teach them to wear slippers. At first it was difficult with him in early years, when he would try and hide his slippers by standing close to the shopping trolley, but I found that by sending him down the isles to get items he quickly became used to the fact he was wearing slippers.

As for comments: yes, he regularly gets asked why he has pretty girlie slippers on his feet, and he has been told to say, “Auntie makes me wear pretty slippers”. He gets embarrassed though when young ladies come up to him and say they have the same pair of slippers themselves, and comment on the pretty colour or fur collars of his slippers. The best advice I can give is not to let your naughty boys wear long trousers, but keep them in shorts as I do Michele, then the slippers cannot be hidden and are highly visible for people to see on him.

I hope I have been able to assist you with further information on slipper discipline. Best wishes

Mrs J Kendrick




 

Dear Mrs Kendrick.

I would like to say that although we both agree on the efficacy of slipper and pyjama discipline, in general I am not wholeheartedly in favour of the use of a cane to maintain discipline, although as his aunty you obviously know best as far as Michele is concerned.

I usually find that a smack on his pyjama-clad bottom as my husband walks past with a basket of ironing, or more formally, a proper over-the-knee spanking before being despatched promptly to bed, is adequate enough for my husband.

Perhaps it would help if I recount a typical weekend:

Any formal spanking takes place on Saturdays. After his morning outdoor chores are completed, I send him upstairs for a bath while I select his slippers and pyjamas, and lay them out on his bed in the punishment bedroom. I, too, have to deal with tantrums when he objects to wearing cosy floral winceyette pyjamas and warm fluffy slippers. There is some excuse for a young person such as Michele, but it is inexcusable a grown man protesting about having to get ready for bed, and in those instances once he has been correctly attired an over-the-knee spanking is inevitable.

He shuffles downstairs in his pink fluffy slippers and floral pyjamas while I follow behind, regaling him with the week’s misdemeanours that have earned him his over-the-knee spanking.

Six of the best is sufficient to make him contrite, but, if I feel he had misbehaved badly enough, I give him some warm milk and send him up to bed. This can be as early as midday, and believe me he does not enjoy missing his afternoon of televised Saturday sport. I ensure the curtains are tightly drawn and, devoid of any reading material or communication devices, he has little choice but to snuggle down to sleep. I may take him more milk at six but, apart from that and the odd trip to the bathroom, he is confined to bed until Sunday, leaving me free to enjoy the rest of the day. I can do so without hindrance, knowing he is safely tucked up in bed and not out gallivanting, as he would if given the chance.

On Sunday morning my husband serves me breakfast in bed and I read the Sunday papers while my husband is preparing lunch. Upon rising I supervise in the kitchen, and woe betide hubby if he is not wearing one of his frilly floral aprons over his pyjamas.

My mother and sister join us for Sunday lunch, and enjoy his discomfort at having to serve us our lunch dressed in his pyjamas and slippers and frilly apron. After he has done the washing up, he joins us for a couple of hours before setting out the tea things. It is then that I send him up for his bath. While he bathes I select a clean pair of pyjamas for him to wear. Down he comes again, usually to some mock compliments about his night attire from my sister and mother.

Since he has to be up early for work on Monday morning it is entirely appropriate that I insist he bids us goodnight immediately after he has washed up after tea. Usually this is about five o’clock, it does vary but I prefer him to be in bed on Sunday by six at the latest.

As you can see this form of discipline, keeping my husband dressed in pyjamas and slippers during the whole weekend, is entirely for his benefit and I find it difficult at times to understand how he can be so truculent about it. Apart from a little teasing from my mother and sister, he does not have the embarrassing amount of exposure that Michele has when you take him shopping in his lovely girlie slippers. I have thought about making my husband hang the washing out while wearing his floral pyjamas and fluffy slippers - do you think this is a good idea?

I do so agree with your insistence that Michele take a nightly bath, and be dressed in his night attire by six every evening. Does his bedtime routine apply at the weekends also?  You mention terry nappies; do you make him wash them himself? I have thought about the use of disposables to be worn underneath my husband’s pyjamas thus eliminating the need for him to trot along to the bathroom so often. I think he uses this as an excuse to get out of bed once I have tucked him in.

Short trousers are excellent for youngsters such as Michele, are they schoolboy style or more babyish? Unfortunately there doesn’t seem to be an opportunity to dress my husband in anything but long trousers, floral pyjama bottoms included!

Regards

Mrs Y



 .

 Dear Mrs Y

I have had to adjust Michelle's Christmas list for Santa because his behaviour has been poor, and he is currently undergoing 'reminder correction' to make him behave better.

I took him over to my neighbour Mrs Hensford to look after while I went shopping for presents for Christmas, and when I came back Michelle was running around her lounge with his dressing gown undone, and his furry bootee slippers unzipped, and left on the floor.

I was furious and immediately took a correction slipper from my shopping bag, which I always carry, and slippered him three times on the back of each leg. Mrs Hensford had said that she was having trouble with him and he had been naughty when he was

having his terry nappies changed during the afternoon.

So Michele has had all his privileges withdrawn for three months. No Christmas presents for naughty boys. So his toys have been removed from his room, and all the new dollies and clothes that he wanted for Christmas have been crossed off his list.
Instead, I have put on his list:

A pair of traditional full fur pink slippers with rubber soles.

A Damart thick fleecy purple floral dressing gown that will be worn all year.

Two pairs of winceyette pyjamas, one pink floral one pair lilac floral.

I have replaced his blue full fur collar school slippers with a pretty pair of pink full fur collar bedroom slippers, with bows on each slipper, and a bell on each slipper to draw people’s attention to his babyish slippers, which I make him wear publicly as a humiliation. I have also stopped putting him in trainer pants, and instead his night terry nappies will remain in place during the day too, under his pyjamas.

Best wishes

Mrs Kendrick

 

Dear Mrs Kendrick
How frustrating for you to return from Christmas shopping and find your babysitter is unable to maintain discipline. I know it is a chore but perhaps in future you should just put a warm winter coat on top of his pyjamas and take him with you. I am sure those snugly zipped slippers will keep his feet cosy.
I can’t really imagine how new floral pyjamas a Damart fleecy dressing gown and a new pair of pink furry slippers could fail to disappoint on Christmas morning.
I know my husband cried with joy at his two new pairs of winceyette pyjamas.
My sister and mother had great fun admiring his new pink floral pair as he served lunch. Of course he had to wear his new white frilly apron to protect his pyjamas, mother always does provide such thoughtful gifts.
Also, you will be pleased to hear, my sister gave him a lovely pair of slippers as her gift.
I am sure you would approve from the picture, they are a quite shocking pink and fluffy to keep the chill away.
 As he washed up after dinner I must admit to thinking how smart he looked in his pyjamas, slippers and frilly apron.
Husband was bathed and ready for bed wearing his new floral pyjamas by four o’clock as I show in the picture.
As it was Christmas day he was allowed half an hour before bedtime to play with his colouring book; yes, I know I spoil him, two pairs of pyjamas and a colouring book.
There was a brief tantrum when mother insisted he sat on her knee while she read him his bedtime story but a few slaps on his pyjama clad bottom soon cured that infraction and it was night-night kisses all round then of to bed with him at five o’clock as it had been an exhausting day for us girls and we needed some relax time.
I hope you continue to keep Michele attired in feminine pyjamas, slippers and dressing gowns as I can assure you it will eventually pay dividends and you will have a dutiful polite nephew.
Regards
Mrs Y

 
 

An eighteen year old has an enforced early bedtime regime imposed upon him by his dominant aunt.

When Philip turned eighteen his aunt was fearful of losing her dominance over him. She devised a plan that saw her engineer his expulsion from college and retain control of his trust fund. Now she was imposing her will further upon him by removing his ability to control his own bodily functions. She also was enforcing a ridiculously early bedtime that included the wearing of flannelette nighties. Combined with domestic duties, the threat of public spankings and ritual humiliation the next three years appear to be rather grim for Philip.

A naughty boy endures cornertime with his cousin before a spanking and an early bedtime.

When Aunty took Sissy Babykins to visit his 15 year-old cousin Petunia she soon led him astray, water bombs were not a good idea. Of course Sissy was deemed to be the main culprit and bore the brunt of the punishment. Aunty borrowed a pair of Petunia's pyjamas and soon had Babykins ready for bed wearing a pretty floral pair in double quick time.Sissy Babykins and Petunia had to endure reflective cornertime but it was Babykins who would be put across aunty's knee for a severe spanking. To make matters worse Aunty insisted it was Petunia who took him upstairs to bed at 5 o'clock and tucked Sissy Babykins into beddy-byes.

A husband receives maternal spankings wearing a nightie. Another great contribution by Lance

High Roller by Lance

Without looking up Ollie knew it was Jenny. His face burned with shame as she reached out to take his hand. He didn't want to be led out of the casino like this but considering his immediate situation Ollie wasn’t in any position to complain. With minimum conversation she gave him the money needed to get his car out of the parking building and suggested he follow her home without delay.

Jenny was his second wife; his first marriage was just as his friend’s warned a total disaster, this was primarily due to his lack of maturity and consideration toward anyone else. Eventually he met Jenny who was considerably older and far more assertive. She soon witnesses what appeared to be some child like nonsense and being rather intuitive she began to wonder if her strong young lover might have some unusual behavioural issues. It was during the height of passion that Jenny was clever enough to extract his most secret desires. Ollie needed a mommy just as much as he needed a wife.    Fortunately Ollie refused to listen to his friend’s advice to stay well clear of this bossy cow and it wasn’t long before they married. The marriage proved to be a success much to the bewilderment of family and Friends who still to this day have no idea how this marriage works. 

As Ollie drove home he couldn’t believe how stupid he had been, if only he had quit while he was ahead, if only he hadn’t gone in at all. He knew he had a gambling problem, they had discussed it and he knew he wasn’t to go inside any casino. He had broken one of her golden rules and now he would have to face the consequences.

The moment Ollie arrived home he went straight to the bedroom. It was only 2.30 in the afternoon but he didn’t need to be told take a shower and get ready for bed. Normally Jenny would tell him it will soon be bedtime and put his pyjamas on, but this wasn’t his normal 7.30pm bedtime.

This was a nightie spanking. 

Putting his nightie on was his way of telling Jenny he was feeling very guilty and desperately wanted her to make everything better again. An over the knee Pyjama spanking although unpleasant wasn’t anywhere as bad as a nightie spanking. Putting his nightie on was effectively asking for a hard spanking with her hairbrush and the added humiliation of being diapered. Even though he didn’t want it, deep down he knew he deserved it and putting on his winceyette nightie would ensure he’d not only be well and truly punished but he’d also, truly forgiven.   

Now sitting quietly of the side of his bed he could hear Jenny down stairs tiding up the kitchen. He knew only to well she would soon be up to deal with him. She’ll see him quietly waiting in his pink winceyette nightie with the lovely bodice embroidery and nodding her head in sympathetic approval she’ll open her panty drawer and take out that hairbrush of hers.

 She had spotted this horrid old brush in a collectables store and discreetly commenting on how effective she thought it might be, when she noticed Ollie turn bright red with embarrassment she just had to buy it. This wasn’t one of those modern lightweight plastic ones. This hairbrush was more of an antique. It was fairly large, oval in shape and made of a shiny dark hardwood. She called it her magic brush because when liberally applied to Ollie’s bare bottom it could magically turn him into a very obedient little boy and in the days that immediately followed, her young husband would be far more respectful and very loving.

He hated feeling so miserable. He wished his wife could simply forgive him and after a hug everything would be okay again, but he knew it wasn’t going to be so easy. He had broken a golden rule and that meant an early bedtime with a very sore bottom.

Evenly the door slowly opened, it was time and Ollie’s heart pounded as he watched her open her panties drawer and take out that brush.

Sitting on the bed beside him she took hold of Ollie’s hand. "Everything's going to be okay she whispered. I love you, you know that don’t you?"

I-I'm sorry, sweetheart,” Ollie blurted out. "I'm really, _really_ sorry."

"I know, dear. I know."

"Please don't be mad. I didn't mean to do it. I don't know what came over me."

Her eyes became large and serious. "It was wrong for you to go back to the casino, you know our agreement.”

"I know, sweetheart. I'm really sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"You obviously feel you need a really good spanking, you’ve got your nightie on, and so I can only assume you admit to deserving one”

Ollie nodded his head; he understood his fate only to well. "Oh darling, please! I'll be good, I promise. I'll never go in to a casino ever again! I promise!"

"You said that last time dear and if I don’t help you, you could very well do the same thing tomorrow. You must learn to think. You are an intelligent young man -- and intelligent men do not gamble away all their allowance.

Ollie looked around frantically, praying, hoping against hope that something would save him. At first Jenny had been so nice and understanding he'd thought that this time, just maybe... but in his heart of hearts he knew there was no escape. In a moment he'd be back over her lap having the gambler walloped out of him. The image made Ollie tremble.

"Please, dear," he begged, sliding to the floor on his knees. "Please ma’am, don't spank me so hard”

"That’s enough," she whispered patted her lap. "Come on, be a good boy and get across my lap please dear."

Ollie found him self-standing and a moment later he was head down over her knee. It was such a bizarre position. He hated this so much, he felt so helpless and out of control. All he could think about was how much he wanted to get up; it was so unfair. Ollie knew he had been disobedient but he was sorry and he told her he'd never, do it again.

Why couldn't she give me a break, just this once? Other boys my age go to the casino and do much worse things but none of them ever get spanked.

With her soft voice quietly scolding him, he whimpered as she slipped his nightie up clear of his bottom. "Quiet now. Everything is okay. "You've been a very naughty boy and you're going to have to take your medicine. We both know I wouldn’t have to do this if your mother had taken care of you when you where a little boy, don’t we?

Yes Ma’am.

So now it’s up to me to do mommies job for you isn’t it?

Yes Ma’am I guess so.

You know it's going to hurt, but you also know I'm only doing this because I love you so much and we also know this is what you truly need from me isn’t it? ” 

"Please, ma’am, don’t spank me--"

"Not another word, young man!" she said in that stern voice she has at times like this. She followed her command with a hefty swat of her big hairbrush and as it smacked down on Ollie’s bare bottom her young husband gave a shriek of legitimate terror. Soon the unmistakeable sounds of an old fashioned spanking filled ever room in the house. He gasped and howled as her brush rose and fell with deliberate intention to case the pain that was needed. Ollie kicked and pleaded unashamedly, but Jenny was determined. She gave him exactly what he needed, a real full on bare bottom spanking. She smacked away until his bottom was bright red all over, and her young husband was transformed into a well-spanked little boy, full of remorse and crying real tears.

There, there now, up you get she said, finally putting her hairbrush aside and waiting for him to stand.

Ollie tried unsuccessfully to wipe away his flowing tears as he continued crying and gasping for breath.

Wrapping her arms around him she held him close. “I love my little boy so very much," you know that don’t you Ollie. No matter what happens, no matter what you do, no matter how many times I have to punish you – Mommy loves you more than anything else in the whole world!"

Pushing Ollie gently back she stared into his tear filled eyes. "Do you understand me? Nothing you do can ever change that. Yes, I have to use my hairbrush, but it's over quickly, and you know you can trust me, I’d never tell anyone you still need to go over mommy’s knee. You do trust me don’t you?

"Yes mommy," he gasped hugging his wife as he continued sobbing.

He felt so warm and secure; this was the part of his childhood that had always been missing. Fortunately he had found a very special wife that understood his bizarre need for her to not only love him but to also be the strict mommy he so desperately required in his supposed adult life.

 Off you go now she whispered.

Yes mommy.

 She watched in admiration as her very obedient little boy gingerly took up his position in the corner of the bedroom. It was a sight she had come to enjoy; he would now be required to stand facing the corner for the next hour. Having to stand with his nightie held up displaying his bright red bottom comes with an advantage. Ollie is able hold the front of his nightie against his face, muffle his sobbing and wipe away his flowing tears.

$20.00’s well invested Jenny thought to herself as she returned the hairbrush to her draw. He’ll be extremely respectful and very passionate; the sex is going to be heavenly, he’ll strive to please me for at least a week. Yes indeed, best investment I ever made….

 Such are the rewards for any wife who takes the time to fully understand her husband. Eventually you’ll discover that deep down, all husbands are just naughty little boy that will always need your maternal guidance and lots of discipline.

 “I’ll have one hour of nice quite corner time thank you Ollie and then I’ll be back to put you in a diaper and tuck you into bed. I bet a week of 6.00 o’clock diapered bedtimes will do your gambling the world young man?”

“A week?” He asked astonished.

“Do you want to raze it by a week of very sore bottoms as well”?

“No mommy”.

“Well best you don’t gamble with fate, now face that corner and be very quiet”?

“Yes mommy, thank you Mommy”.

 “That’s much better”. 

  

The End

Baby Simon's early bedtime. How one little chap fell into the clutches of two intimidating women and became their ickle babykins.

A semi-clad Simon ran toward the door and jumped up in a vain attempt to reach the door handle.
“Just where do you think you are going? You’ve just earned your first spanking you naughty little boy. Come here and let’s finish getting you undressed.” Simon, unable to answer thanks to the baby's dummy strapped into his mouth, was helpless as an immense pair of female hands grasped his shoulders and led him back to where the Miss Barnstable sat. The diminutive Simon was lifted back onto her lap where she held him more tightly than ever as Miss Earnshaw pulled his t-shirt off over his head and removed his underpants, leaving him sitting naked on the larger females lap.

Less than a half an hour earlier he had happily rang the doorbell of the four-storey house set slightly back from the rest of the row.

“You must be little baby Simon, we were expecting you earlier.”

Simon was taken aback to be addressed as baby Simon and at the size of the two women who greeted him. His aunt never mentioned that her friends were so tall.  As he was only four foot six, being confronted by these two, grey haired women who were both over six foot tall was quite intimidating.

“Your aunt advised us you would be here at 4pm, it’s almost 4.15 now. Where have you been?”

"I, er.... just the train was...."

His aunt had allowed him to travel independently for the first time in his life and the train journey down had excited him immensely despite twice being asked by concerned looking women if he had lost his parents. On both occasions he had indignantly showed them his passport to prove he was seventeen.

"Don't mumble boy, come with me, we need to get you ready." 

These two intimidating women who he was to stay with during the summer made Simon feel as if he was being admonished for something as he was ushered into the front room and the door firmly closed behind him. His first impression was how everything was scaled to the height of the two women, even the door handles had been raised higher, way out of his reach, and he wondered how he would manoeuvre his way around the house.

"Get ready for what," he enquired nervously as he was led through


One of his aunt’s friends sat upright on a hard backed chair. The slightly taller one, wearing the pink floral blouse stood beside her and it was she who spoke to him.

“I am Miss Earnshaw, and this is Miss Barnstable,” she said indicating toward her seated companion.

“During your stay here, you will learn to behave in a manner that we see fit for a boy of your stature. You will be punished with regular over the knee spankings and since we have determined you little boy age to be that of a five year old you will be ready for bed wearing your little boy pyjamas by 3pm every day.”

Simon thought that this was all some kind of joke and laughed nervously.

Miss Barnstable tapped her lap. “Something funny little boy? We are already late, time to get you ready for beddy-byes, come here.”

Miss Earnshaw reached for his arm and before he could react he found himself propelled forward and lifted onto Miss Barnstable’s lap. Her arms enveloped him, pinning him to her as Miss Earnshaw’s left hand grabbed his jaw and squeezed, forcing his mouth into an ‘o’ shape.

Simon felt the large bulbous rubber teat engulf his mouth before he actually saw the blue dummy in her hand. The mouth guard rammed up against his upper and lower lips and he felt the rubber engulf his mouth as the Velcro straps were secured behind his head.

“Mmmmmphhh….” He tried to cry out but his tongue was unable to move and a nonsensical, infantile utterance was all he could muster.

Miss Earnshaw’s busy hands had already removed his shoes, socks and trousers before Miss Barnstaple’s grip slackened slightly to allow access to the hem of his t-shirt. He wriggled free and made his bid for freedom.

Back in the clutches of Miss Barnstable, the naked Simon was turned across her knee and his bare bottom was soundly spanked.

"Naughty, naughty little boy." She spoke as she spanked, ignoring his frantically kicking legs and his muffled cries of protest. "It's a good job you can't reach the door handles. Imagine what could happen to our babykins if you went outside all by yourself. We won't let that happen though will we? Our little Simon will always have one of us to look after him."

“Mmmmmphhh….” was all he could manage as the stinging spanks mercifully came to an end.

He was carried into the kitchen sobbing. Through his tear misted eyes he became more horrified as he found himself being lowered into a plastic bath. The tepid water engulfed him momentarily as his head was submerged, panicking he struggled until Miss Barnstable's strong hands lifted him up. The two women proceeded to wash him intimately, their strong arms ensuring he stayed firmly under their control. Finally he was lifted out and enveloped in a fluffy towel that Miss Earnshaw used to quite roughly dry him. He was totally disorientated by now and as Miss Earnshaw laid him down onto a fresh clean towel it took him a few moments before he realised what was happening to him. She grabbed his ankles, lifting up his legs she slipped a soft, thick white nappy under him. Miss Barnstable continued to keep him firmly under her control as Miss Earnshaw lowered his legs; Simon felt the caress of the soft fluffy material drawn up between his legs as he was expertly pinned into the nappy.

“Baby Simon will be spending a lot of time tucked up in beddy-byes so he needs to wear nappy-wappy's to keep his jimmy-jams all nice and dry.” Cooed Miss Earnshaw, using syrupy baby talk. The horrified seventeen-year-old then suffered the indignity of having a pair of blue plastic baby pants fitted over his nappy. Miss Barnstable hugged the nappy clad teenager into her bosom and kissed his cheek, “what a sweet babykins you are,” she cooed, again using her annoying baby voice.
Simon was totally bewildered and wondered what other humiliations he would have to endure. Then he saw Miss Earnshaw approach him again. In her hands was a yellow winceyette pyjama jacket emblazoned with a bunny rabbit motif, she held it in front of her like a matadors cape.
Simon shook his head as she approached, “Mmmmmphhh…!” 
Miss Barnstable straightened his arm out enabling Miss Earnshaw to easily manoeuvre the pyjama jacket sleeve onto it. Simon was helpless as he felt the soft-brushed cotton surround his bare torso. Miss Earnshaw buttoned up the jacket.
“Some bunnies for Bunnykins,” she said and laughed at her joke.
“Mmmmmphhh…!” Simon once more tried to speak as Miss Barnstable manoeuvred Simon so that Miss Earnshaw could ease his legs into the bunny pyjama bottoms.
Poor Simon tried to wriggle and squirm free as he saw the pyjama bottoms but he was held more firmly than ever. As the pyjama bottoms were moved up his legs he noticed that the inseams of the pyjamas were sewn together. His legs were effectively becoming bound together.
Miss Barnstaple stood him down but still held him tight as Miss Earnshaw positioned the pyjama bottoms over the hem of his pyjama jacket. Buttonholes, sewn into in the waistband of the pyjama bottoms, enabled her to button the bottoms to the top.
Simon’s left hand was then tied into a pale yellow lambs wool mitten that had a length of cord attached to it. Miss Earnshaw threaded the cord through loops on the waist of the pyjama bottoms and attached it to a matching mitten that was promptly tied onto Simon’s right hand.
Simon was lifted back onto Miss Barnstable’s lap and she turned to face a long mirror. He stared; horrified at the reflection of his helpless, infantile, pyjama clad self.
“Mmmmmphhh…!” He tried to raise his mittened hands in protest but with the ribbon circling his waist he could only lift them a few inches.
Instead Miss Barnstable grasped the ring of the dummy and waggled it up and down.
“Aren’t you a sweet little boy dwessed in his jimmy-jams all ready for beddy-byes?” She asked mockingly, and laughed as Simons nodding head appeared to agree with her statement.

She cuddled Simon into her chest, rocking him back and forth, his cheek pressed against the pink floral material of her blouse as she similarly gently caressed his brushed cotton encased arm of his newly acquired pyjamas.
“There-there, we’ll soon have you tucked up in beddy-byes. It’s after your bedtime Simon, we had intended your bedtime to be 5pm but until you learn to behave your pyjama time will be 3 o’clock and your bedtime 4 o’clock.”
Simon could barely take in her words before Miss Earnshaw loomed in his vision carrying a blue towelling baby’s bib with the words Bunnykins embroidered across it and a baby bottle full of milk.
“Look what I’ve got for babykins,” she now cooed, tying the bib around his neck.
The ripping sound of the Velcro signalled momentarily freedom, for his tongue as is mouth was freed from the presence of the large bulbous rubber teat.
“Please stop treating me like a baby I don’t want to wear these pyja….”
Unluckily for Simon the teat of the baby’s bottle replaced the dummy before he could utter any more.
Miss Barnstable tipped Simon backwards as easily as if he was a babe in arms. With incapacitated arms and legs Simon was totally helpless, ending up cradled in Miss Barnstable’s arms as warm, sickly sweet milk hit the back of his throat.
“That’s a good boy, drink up all your milky-wilky so you can go sleepy-byes,” she urged, tipping the bottle ever more steeply.
Much to his relief Simon finished the bottle. He burped and a trickle of milk dribbled down his chin. Miss Barnstable laughed as she quickly re-inserted his dummy, “ Does baby need his windy-woos up den?” She teased, starting to rub his pyjama clad back in a circular motion. Simon could do nothing but sit on her lap and suffer the indignations being perpetrated upon him.
As he sat on her lap Simon began to feel his eyes flutter and he began to struggle to keep them open, he would have yawned if he had been able.
Miss Barnstable waggled his dummy again as she asked, “ Is Simon tired? Does Simon want to go to beddy-byes now?” Again she laughed as she made him nod his head in agreement.
Miss Barnstable stood up and Simon was automatically lifted up into her arms. He involuntarily rested his head, heavy now with sleep, on her shoulder and he was vaguely aware of stairs being climbed.

“Aaahh, here you are. Time for beddies “Simon lifted his head slightly. Miss Earnshaw stood beside a blue painted cot, the rail on one side was lowered and Miss Barnstable stood him down onto a thick pile carpet.
He was about six foot away from the cot, his two tormentors, stood beside it and called to him, “come along now Bunnykins, hippity-hop into beddy byes.
Teetering unsteadily Simon was urged by the two women to hop toward the cot. For some reason his head was heavier than it had ever been and he was desperate to lay it down onto the pillow. So he hopped. The two women clapped him as he hopped toward them, “clever Bunnykins” they chorused.
They helped him into the cot and Simon was practically asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, Miss Earnshaw and Miss Barnstable looked down at their sleepy; seventeen year old guest who was wearing a nappy, plastic baby pants and yellow bunny pyjamas and sucking on a baby’s dummy. They both smiled, day one had gone to plan.

Don't Judge a book by it's cover. Aunty, pyjama spankings and and early bedtime comprise an excellent story from Lance

Behind the Cupboard Door…                                                        
By Lance Miller.
Every evening auntie would have Brian’s bath run and his pyjamas laid out on the bed waiting his timely arrival. He knew better than to stop off or waste time getting home as auntie would worry and to come home late without a very good reason would make auntie very cross indeed. This particular evening was like any other and upon arriving home auntie dutifully directed Brian to his waiting bath. One would think with this being so repetitive auntie wouldn’t need to be so instructive but I guess boys will be boys and they do appear to have a natural aversion to taking baths. After checking to ensure he had in fact cleaned himself properly she dried him off with her large fluffy towels and put him into his warm blue and white striped winter pyjamas. She had barely done up his buttons when he turned and hurried off to play in the lounge.  Smirking to herself she picked up the towels and placed them in the laundry humpier. Retuning to the kitchen she finished preparing dinner, all the while keeping an eye on her little boy as he played on unsuspecting.  
With dinner over Brian was quick to get down from the table and return to the lounge. He was soon spiralled out on the carpet playing with his Lego whilst he watched television, however auntie soon following him into the lounge and she had other ideas.
"Its beddy byes time for you my dear ".
What, but its way too early, it’s hardly even 5.30 auntie?
He wasn’t at all tired and wanted to watch one of his favourite programs.
 "I’m well aware of the time and I’m also well aware we need to take care of a little issue you had with some very poor decision making this morning ".
She was right of cause, but Brian had hoped she would remain unaware his little failing and thumping his fists down on the carpet he mumbled his contempt.
No auntie, please no he begged while he ever so reluctantly got to his feet.
 "Up stairs and have my slipper out ready for me please ".
“Oh no, please auntie, not the slipper”.
Auntie put two fingers across his lips. "Hush, now get yourself upstairs please. I better see my slipper out on the bed and you facing the naughty corner when I come up my dear."
"Yes, auntie", Brian answered dejectedly.
"Thank you. Now off you go please". I'll be up in half an hour or so to take care of you and tuck you into bed. While you're waiting for me you might give some thought as to why I need to punish you"
"Yes, auntie", said Brian stamping his feet on the carpet as he left.
Ever so reluctantly he did as he was told and taking one of auntie’s slippers out of the wardrobe he placed it on the bed. With a longing sigh he took a wishful gaze out the window before placing himself in the corner. Corner time was always made worse when he could still hear his television program and the distant sounds of the kids next door still playing in there bark yard. However knowing he would soon be on the receiving end of one of aunties early bedtime wallopings helped him to do some real sole searching.
 Brian was just a toddler when his father was killed and during those impressionable years it seemed as if he was in constant rebellion against his mother's authority. What was missing was his father’s belt but even though he tried her patience, Brian's mother hardly even raised her voice and never once did she ever consider warming his naughty little bottom. When he pushed her too far, she would simply confine to his bedroom until he had settled down and showed some sign of behaving himself. He knew how his mother expected him to behave and he also knew just how far he could push her before he ended up in his room. Having heard stories from his friends, he resented her and often wished she could be a little more like other mothers. He would sometimes play up just to push her until she reached her tether in the hope she might one day be like every other mommy he’d heard of and give him a smack. He felt left out and wished he could join in with his friends and tell stories of how he went over the end of his bed and had his pyjamas bottoms pulled down too. But his mommy wasn’t like the others in his street; she never hung a belt behind the cupboard door, the way all his friends parents’ did. It just never happened; he never once got a single smack, let alone one of those bedtime strapping’s his friends appeared to bet earning fairly regularly. More often than not, someone in his little group of friends would have the telltale marks of resent bedtime belting. All those stories supported with the blotches and strips did nothing but prove Brian’s heart breaking theory, his mother just didn’t love him enough.
A sound from downstairs brought Brian's child hood memories back to the slipper now waiting on the bed behind him. For reasons unknown to Brian, auntie preferred to use a slipper rather than a belt. Only last week she had reason to use one on his bare bottom for the very first time. Brian vividly remembered just how his bottom continued to sting for several minutes after she had put him to bed. He hated waiting and wondered if it would be like it was last time. Would he be grounded tomorrow? Perhaps she might smack a little harder this time? Why that silly slipper anyway? Why can’t auntie use a belt like other aunties do? Why can’t I get a good bedtime strapping, like my on line friends get.
His corner time dragged on ever so slowly but finally he heard the sound of aunties imminent arrival as she came up the stairs and into the bedroom. He understood the corner time rules only to well, so he didn’t turn around. He knew she would want to ensure he was standing there facing the corner nice and quietly, like all naughty little boys should.
Auntie took her responsibilities very seriously and smiling to herself she took some pleasure from being the disciplinarian that this naughty little boy so obviously needed.  
"Have you been thinking about why I need to punish you, she asked as she closed the bedroom curtains and turned on the light.”?
"Yes, auntie"
"Good. So you understand why you’re getting my slipper and a early bedtime then?
"Yes auntie", Brian answered softly.
All right then, you may come out of the corner now please dear.
Auntie was sitting on the side of the bed and smiled sympathetically when Brian turned around and stood before her with his head bowed.
 "Pull down your pyjamas bottoms and get over my lap please, honey", auntie said, picking up her slipper.
"Can't I keep them up please, Brian begged? It will sting just as much."
"Oh honey stop being silly, naughty little boys have to be spanked on the bare bottom. How can I tell if I’m doing a proper job if she can’t see how red your bottoms getting? We spoke about this last week, didn’t we Brian?
Yes auntie, I guess so.
It was all to obvious why Brian was being silly, he was excited; his pyjamas tenting out in front left little to the imagination and Auntie discreetly turned away until he had pulled his pyjama bottoms down to the middle of his thighs and had lowered himself across her waiting lap. She knew this nonsense would disappear the moment he felt her slipper on his bare upturned bottom. In a soft calm voice auntie proceeded to reaffirm why she needed to punish him. As she talked she gave his upturned bottom a reassuring rub and a soft pat every-once-in-a-while. Auntie’s caresses felt good, but her loving voice as soft as it was   reminded him why he was over her knee. As auntie continued to softly scold him Brian once again promised to give more consideration to his decision making.
"Do you have anything else you wish to say before we start dear", auntie asked as her little chat come came to an end.
"I'm sorry, auntie", Brian said once more. "I'll show you I can be a good boy, I promise. Please don't spank me too hard."
"I know you'll be a good boy tomorrow honey but I think we both know today’s effort was defiantly worthy of a smacked bottom and an early bedtime, don’t we"
Yes auntie, I guess so.
With her left arm holding him snugly against her body. She brought her slipper down hard across her boy's bare bottom. Even though he knows it’s coming, that first smack still came as a surprise. He tried to be a brave boy and take his spanking in silence. But after the first ten, the sting of each smack seemed to build on the previous one and he was soon gasping as the slipper continued to smack down hard on his exposed bare bottom. After giving Brian some thirty or so smacks she gave him a momentary break so he could catch his breath.
Brian's bottom was already very pink and auntie could feel it warming as she gave it some gentle rubbing."I love you, honey", auntie eventually said, lightly patting his bottom as a sign that his spanking was about to recommence.
"I love you too, auntie", Brian said softly.
"You know we aren’t finished yet, don’t you honey", she said just as she once again took a firm hold and continued on with his spanking. This time, the smacks were considerably harder and eventually the house was again filled Brian’s loud gasps and squealing promises of much improved behaviour. Auntie knew just what was required and continuing on she administered many good hard smacks. Finally the sobs came and Brian once again became the little boy he so desperately needed to be. His breathless crying interspersed with partially formed words promising to be good and begging for an end to this slippering. But auntie continued his bottom warming until he eventually sobbed limply over his loving mommy figures lap,
"OK, honey, you can get up now", I think I’ve smacked you bottom enough for you to have received the message.
Brian could hardly see as tears now filled his eyes and when he got to his feet he did that, I’ve just had a hard spanking dance. Gingerly holding this bottom he danced from foot to foot and sobbed loudly as the horrid sting continued to intensify.
Auntie put down her slipper and upon standing she opened her arms. I do love my little boy so much; auntie softly whispered as she gave him one of her very special after smack bottom cuddles.  
Oh auntie, I love you too, Brian sobbed as he enjoyed the security and tenderness of her loving embrace. It was these wonderful moments that Brian desperately needed; auntie was far more than a simple house keeper, she created this very private and special relationship hidden away from all the cruelty and horrors of the outside world. Every body needs someone to be responsible to and she was his authority figure. She alone had the power to absolve him of any wrong doing and cleanse him of his daily stress and guilt. She was his very special auntie.
Eventually she released him and bending down she took hold of his pyjama bottoms and eased them gently up and over his bright red stinging bottom.    
Naughty boys with smacked bottoms need early bed times, don’t they my darling.
Yes auntie, Brian whimpered softly as auntie pulled back the bedding.
Sitting on the side of the bed auntie kissed him on the cheek and warned him to stay in bed and go to sleep. Moments later he was alone in his semi darkened bedroom, his sore bottom reminding him of how naughty he had been and how he needed to make amends.
The following day Brian Looked down at the convicted man now standing before and told him to stop blaming bad parenting for his despicable crimes.
“There are no excuses for treating any women so badly, 10 years with a non parole period of 8 years. Take him away”.
I think auntie will be much happier with me today, after my bath and I’ve my pyjamas on I should get lots of play time thought Judge Brian Onslow. As he sat in his court room presiding over the fates of so many he often watched the minute hand on the clock slowly ticking his life away wondered if his auntie’s justice might ever require her bend him over the end of his bed and pull down his pyjama bottoms. Might she ever administer the old fashioned early bedtime strapping he so desperately needed?
Will she ever hang a belt behind the cupboard door the way other aunties do?

Lance.

Miss Jacobson asserts herself and puts me to bed suitably attired for the weather!

Miss Jacobson ordered me out of the bath, which was a shame as I was quite enjoying playing with the plastic rubber ducks. I had adjusted the water temperature to tepid as Friday had been another sweltering day in the city. Here in the country, the late afternoon was still hot but not as humid.
"Come along out of that bath,  you've been in long enough." Miss Jacobson enjoyed being privy to aunty's pyjamas and early bedtime punishment regime that I was subject to and was beside herself that aunty had gone off into town leaving her in charge of my bath time. Last time, I had complained that it was too early and too hot for pyjamas and aunty and Miss Jacobson contrived to dress me in my pyjamas and a nightie so I meekly said," Yes Miss Jacobson," and clambered out of the bath and dried myself as Miss Jacobson looked on. "You really are a little boy aren't you?" she said unkindly as she clasped my wrist and led me into the cool bedroom thanks to a breeze from the open window. "And as a little boy I want you in your pyjamas ready for bed right now, are you going to argue with me?  She put her index finger under my chin and tilted my face toward until I was forced to look directly into her eyes. I shook my head and whispered, "no Miss Jacobson," I averted my gaze, ashamed of my  compliance and ashamed of my nakedness. She turned away and opened the dresser drawer.
" Right let me begin by getting you into these." In her hand she held a pair of aunty's favourite winter punishment pyjamas, a pair of floral winceyette pyjamas. The jacket buttoned to the neck with a Peter Pan style collar and the bottoms were footed. Aunty liked to see me wearing them as I sipped my cocoa.
"These are my winter pyjamas," I protested as Miss Jacobson stepped me into the bottoms. I had to rest my hand on her shoulder to prevent losing my balance as she tugged up the pyjama bottoms. She laughed, and as she buttoned up the pyjamas top said, "well it's forecast to be cooler overnight so we don't want  you catching a chill do we? In fact, to be on the safe side why don't I... " She was rummaging in the drawer, "yes these paisley brushed cotton pyjamas will keep you cosy." I recoiled as she advanced toward me clutching the maroon pyjamas. "No Miss Jacobson, please the footed pyjamas are perfectly adequate."
She held open the pyjama jacket. "Nonsense, now do as I say unless you want a trip over my lap, do you want to be spanked like a disobedient little boy?" I could feel tears welling in my eyes, "no Miss," I sniffled as
I was buttoned into a second pair of pyjamas. "How do you feel now, cosy?" she asked.
"I really am a bit warm Miss," I replied. She felt my forehead with her left hand. "Positively freezing, you need a sturdy pair of striped pyjamas to keep you warm my pet lamb." Once again she rifled through the drawer and emerged clutching  a pair of striped flannelette pyjamas." Now, you should be happy wearing  these, your aunty tells me you call these your grown up, big boy pyjamas, is that correct?" I blushed, it was quite true. With aunty insisting I wear boys and girls pyjamas and nighties too,when aunty let's me wear my striped pyjamas  I pretend to myself that I am not under aunty's control. "Get these on, I want to see you in your big boy's pyjamas," Miss Jacobson quickly had be buttoned into them and stood back to admire her handiwork.
 "You know I can't quite see it myself, you just look like a silly little boy who is wearing three pairs of pyjamas!"  Foolishly I lost my temper. "Now wait a minute, you can't treat me this way, I am telling aunty that you made me cry and she will be very annoyed with you." Miss Jacobson howled with laughter. "You pathetic creature, your aunt thoroughly approves of my actions, get over my knee you silly little boy. I will make you cry alright" I was hauled across her lap and spent five minutes being scolded and spanked. I assumed that through three layers of pyjama bottoms the spanking would not hurt but Miss Jacobson used  one of my own  Bob the Builder slippers to administer the spanking and believe me, even through three layers, it hurt enough to make me bawl and beg her to stop. "Aw, is the little baby cwying? Do you want to go to beddy-byes now or  do you want me to give you another spanking? Speak up, I can't hear you, and make sure you answer politely or else" Still hanging over her lap I managed to splutter, "beddy-byes please Miss." Another spanking was more than I could face and  being put to bed at 4  o'clock seemed almost attractive even if I was wearing three pairs of pyjamas. Miss Jacobson pulled back the bed clothes, "wait a moment," she said as I was about to climb into bed.  She left the room, returning seconds later.
"I almost forgot, your aunty wanted to see you in this nightie. You had better put it on."
It was pointless to protest any more, Miss Jacobson eased my head through the blue floral flannel nightie. The nightie cascaded down and I was completely passive as she hummed to herself as she buttoned up the nightie. "Right into beddies with you," I clambered in, already beginning to swelter thanks to my multi-layered night attire. Miss Jacobson covered me with the bedding and tucked me in. She kissed my forehead. "Night-night, only sixteen hours to go until you can get up.Your aunty and I will come to check on you when she arrives home and if there is one unfastened button you will face the consequences, understand?" I nodded. Miss Jacobson closed the window and drew the curtains, locking the door behind her as she left.

*It has come to my attention that I perhaps owe my many pyjamaed experience to Ariadne and David.

Thanks for your assistance, any more bright ideas?

Aunty spanks me and puts me to bed early

After I had displeased aunty on Friday afternoon she decided the best punishment for me was an early bedtime. Of course I protested that it was only 5.30 on a beautifully sunny, hot afternoon. Nevertheless, I was ordered to go upstairs, take a bath, put on my pyjamas then come back down for some cocoa before bedtime. (Aunty has recently concluded that cocoa helps me to sleep better.) Reluctantly I did as I was told and went upstairs, aunty had already laid out the pyjamas she wanted me to wear, a blue striped pair that were made from particularly thick and heavy winceyette.

After my bath I buttoned up the pyjama jacket and made my way downstairs. As I entered the lounge I heard the unmistakable tones of Miss Jacobson. Aunty and Miss Jacobson were sitting chatting on the sofa, aunty said, “ah, here at last.” Then turning to Miss Jacobson, “ I ordered him into his pyjamas early as he was most disrespectful earlier.”

“I do hope he has been spanked,” Miss Jacobson said staring intently at me. “ I notice the top button of his pyjamas remains unfastened too, she informed aunty.

“Interfering busybody,” I said quietly under my breath, unfortunately, not quietly enough. “What did you say?”  Asked an indignant Miss Jacobson.

“Get that top button fastened and then get over my knee you naughty little boy,” boomed my outraged aunt.

Stupidly I tried to reason with her. “But aunty it’s far too hot to wear pyjamas let alone have my top button fastened. Aunty’s face turned to thunder, “I will not tolerate such insolence.” She dragged me across her lap and gave me the longest spanking she had ever administered. 

“You-will-wear-whatever-I-tell-you-to wear-and-not-question-me-under-any-circumstances,” she intoned as my bottom bore the brunt of her anger.

 “I suggest you need to give this naughty little boy a further appropriate punishment, I have an idea that will prove to be extremely fitting my dear.” Miss Jacobson said as aunty paused from spanking me leaving me draped helplessly across her lap.

Aunty had just finished removing my pyjamas when Miss Jacobson returned.

“Absolutely perfect, beamed aunty when she saw what Miss Jacobson had bought, quickly now get it on him.” Aunty was oblivious to my naked embarrassment as she and Miss Jacobson made themselves busy them putting a full-length winceyette nightie over my head. I felt the nightie cascade to the floor enveloping me in the soft winceyette material.

“No please, I don’t want to wear a nightie,” I pleaded as Miss Jacobson spun me around to fasten up the buttons that encased my neck in a frilled horror. Miss Jacobson tugged the sleeves of the nightie until the frilled elasticised cuffs nestled neatly on my wrists, “there now, this nightie will keep you lovely and warm won’t it,” gloated Miss Jacobson as I was marched upstairs and tucked tightly into bed. “Don’t you dare get out of bed until I come for you in the morning,” aunty said as she threw an extra duvet on top of the existing bedding. I was already beginning to regret my naughtiness as the beads of sweat formed on my forehead, I watched as aunty drew the heavy blackout style curtains that, once the bedroom door was closed would leave me practically in complete darkness despite the fact it was not yet six o’clock.

 I was in for a long uncomfortable night.

    

An interesting letter from an edition of Pyjama Punishment Monthly

Dear Nanny Smackbottom
When my husband oversteps the mark I like to punish him as if he is a small child. I thought your readers might enjoy seeing and hearing about such a punishment. On this occasion we were on our way out to the theatre when his outrageous flirting with the taxi driver began to anger me. I ordered her to turn back telling my husband that he had just earned himself a spanking and an early bedtime instead of an evening out. He tried to bluff and joke his way out of the situation but his blushing face was just the beginning. I ushered him back into the house and ordered him upstairs, asking the somewhat bewildered young lady driver to wait in the living room. I soon had him dressed in his 'naughty boy’ bunny pyjamas and draped over my knee for a well-deserved nursery style spanking.
After his spanking I made him crawl baby like along the landing where I made him stop to say 'night night' to the waiting young lady. I then tucked him into bed and pointed out the video camera that would let me know if he got out of bed. I resumed my journey explaining my discipline methods to the young lady who was by now very interested in hearing how I punished my husband in the manner of an unruly little boy. I greatly enjoyed my evening out and upon my return I am pleased to report that he was sleeping soundly.


Katherine.

Another afternoon with Aunty and Miss Jacobson, bath time and naughty nephew pyjama spankings.

Aunty was adamant that I should arrive before noon on Friday as she wanted me to attend her book club meeting. Unfortunately work and getting caught in traffic because of the sunny weather we are experiencing, delayed my arrival until 1.15. Brandishing flowers hastily bought at a petrol station I entered my aunts front room. I was confronted  by Miss Jacobson sitting primly on the sofa. "For me,?" She asked serenely, "I thought not," she said answering her own question. "I am afraid flowers will not help your situation, your aunt is furious with you for being late, where have you been?" Taken aback by her tone I became flustered, "I.. er, that is.. I tried to ring" I lied. She held her hand up and like a child I obediently stopped talking. "Enough. Your aunt has gone to collect Miss Sorebottom, Miss Goodnight and Mrs Gotobed herself, a task she intended you to undertake, what do you have to say for yourself?" I  stared at and shuffled my feet, "She never said," I mumbled them rambled on about the traffic. Miss Jacobson sighed as she listened and amused herself by removing a non-existent thread from her white cotton long sleeved blouse. She beckoned me toward her. "Your aunt has asked me to take care of you until she returns and I think the first thing you require is a spanking." Upon hearing that she intended to spank me I became angry. "Absolutely not, I haven't done anything wrong,!  I whined. In hindsight it wasn't the best of arguments. Miss Jacobson stood up, now towering above me she grabbed my chin and squeezed so that I thought  my jaw would break. "You silly little boy, do you really think you have a say in the matter. Of course you don't. You don't decide if you are to be spanked, you don't decide when and what pyjamas you will wear and you don't decide your bedtime. Whilst you are here all your decisions are made for you, just like a helpless child. Do you understand?" She released her grip on my chin, "Yes Miss Jacobson," I whispered, my status well and truly established. She lowered my pants, "over you go," once balanced across her lap Miss Jacobson pushed back my underwear and proceed to spank me for a full five minutes. Long before she had finished I was begging her to stop and  futilely trying to wriggle from her vice like grasp. "The second thing you require ,judging by the odour emanating room you is a bath. "Follow me upstairs and I will run a bath for you." It was true enough, my shirt was sticking to me, my bottom was on fire and a bath seemed very appealing. I went to pull up my trousers, "oh no," she said, "leave them around your ankles, you can waddle upstairs like a naughty little boy as an extra punishment."
Sniffling, I trudged slowly and with difficulty up the stairs with Miss Jacobson cajoling me from behind.
I undressed in the bedroom I used at my aunts, I heard the sound of water cascading into the bathtub cease. "It's ready." With a towel wrapped around me I walked past Miss Jacobson at the door and into the bathroom. I heard the door and realised Miss Jacobson was behind me. She ripped away the towel and gave my bare bottom a quick spank. "Ow, what are you doing? Get out," I shouted, attempting to cover myself with my hands. Miss Jacobson was smiling and tying a bibbed plastic apron on herself.
 "Come along, in you get," her hands now free she twisted my ear lobe, forcing me to step into the water.  she knelt alongside the bath and lathered up the flannel. For the next five minutes I was subjected to a thorough and intimate wash. As much as I remonstrated she continued to clean every orifice and crevice on my body.
"Oh stop fussing, there's nothing to complain about, " she said as she none to gently washed my genitals.
"Right out of the bath and let's get you dried.  Your aunt has instructed me to have you dressed in a pair of suitable pyjamas by the time she returns and I for one do not intend to let her down, unlike some."  I howled my protest. "It's not fair, I don't want to put my pyjamas on yet," I pouted. Miss Jacobson ignored me and continued to towel me dry. I only realised how childish I had sounded when Miss Jacobson slapped my legs..
"What did I say to you? Little boys like you have to put their jimmy jams on after their bath, you don't get a say in the matter." Feebly, instead of asserting myself, I ignored the little boy jibe, instead only muttering, "It's too early for pyjamas"  Miss Jacobson continued to roughly dry me as she said, "It's never too early for you to be dressed in your pyjamas and the sooner you realise that the better." Miss Jacobson then began to concentrate on drying between my legs, unfortunately I began to "enjoy" the attention. "Oh my, it appears someone needs their pyjamas on very quickly to hide this little problem," laughed Miss Jacobson. Then, to my utter horror, she grabbed my prominence in her hand and towed me to my bedroom in this manner.  I blushed furiously as she made me stand with my hands on my head, "to avoid any mishaps," She rummaged through my pyjama drawer. "Yes, these will do nicely," she exclaimed brandishing a pair of 1970's psychedelic style, Mark & Spence winceyette pyjamas in triumph. My heart sank as Miss Jacobson held the pyjama bottoms open for me to step into, she quickly tied the pyjama cord then eased my arms into the pyjama jacket. She was obviously enjoying my discomfort as she slowly buttoned up the jacket. "There, that's better, you don't really look properly dressed  until you are wearing you pyjamas. Now, put on your slippers and back downstairs with you."
We arrived downstairs just as aunty and her book club members returned. "Well, well," said aunty when she saw me. I see Miss Jacobson has been taking good care of you. I am pleased to see you dressed  in your pyjamas ready for bed." She then addressed Miss Jacobson, "any reason for his tardiness in arriving?" Miss Jacobson looked at me and then back to aunty. "Some nonsense about the traffic, I put him across my knee then gave him a good scrubbing in the bathtub before I put him into those lovely jimmy jams I found in his pyjama drawer, doesn't he look very naughty and spankable wearing them?"  Mrs Gotobed giggled and caressed my pyjama clad bottom, "hmmm... lovely. I for one wouldn't mind spanking this naughty bottom."
Then Miss Goodnight joined in, "what time is his bedtime? I don't want to miss putting him across my knee either." Aunty looked at the clock on the mantelpiece, let's see, it is 2 pm now, by the time he prepares our afternoon tea and washes up it will be  4pm, shall we say beddy-byes by 4.30?" The ladies universally agreed that 4.30 was an ideal time for me to go to bed. Miss Sorebottom then put in her two penny worth. "I have a little idea, why don't I pin a little sign onto the back of is pyjama jacket inviting anyone who feels the need to give him a spanking to do so?" Aunty clapped her hands  in delight. "A marvellous idea Miss Sorebottom. My naughty nephew should have plenty of spankings before bedtime."
Aunty sat down and patted her lap, "Come here," aunty sat me on her knee and putting her arm around my shoulder she asked, "have you thanked Miss Jacobson for looking after you so well? She is an ideal babysitter for you, isn't she?"  I shook my head, meaning I didn't think she should baby-sit me but aunty exclaimed, "well I think you should thank her."  Aunty drew me closer and whispered to me. "No aunty please, I don't want to." Aunty put me off he lap and ushered me toward Miss Jacobson who was now sitting on the sofa chatting to Mrs Gotobed.
Then, as aunty had instructed, I  approached Miss Jacobson  and said, " thank you for looking after me so well and giving me a lovely bath and choosing these cosy pyjamas for me to wear." I put my arms around her and gave her a hug and kissed her cheek. Everyone laughed at my pathetic antics and I scurried off shame faced to prepare the afternoon tea. That afternoon was one of the longest and must painful I have ever known. I lost count how many times I was spanked but I do know that aunty and Miss Jacobson are planning something that will not be good news for me.