A selection of floral punishment pyjamas

Pyjama Punishment outfit that includes pink rubber gloves and a floral pinny.

"For goodness sake, can't you even wash a few dishes correctly? Get back to the sink and wash them all again properly this time. When you have done that come back and we will each spank you before you are put to bed early. Now off you go."

A Pyjama Punishment Monthly letter that extols the virtues of naughty boys being forced to wear girls pyjamas

Dear Pyjama Punishment Monthly

Even though I admire and enjoy your publication I must confess to having had doubts about the methods employed to discipline errant boys. Imagine my surprise when I discovered for myself that your recommendations could be deployed successfully.
My nephew is fifteen, and typically lacking in manners and respect for his elders. One evening after a heated debate about staying out late, I decided to try a little experiment. While he was taking a bath I locked his bedroom door. I selected a pair of my pyjamas; yellow floral ones made of robust flannelette and returned to the sitting room to wait for him.
Soon he was standing in front of me holding a wet skimpy towel to cover his modesty. He demanded access to his clothes but I calmly told him that I had decided he was staying in tonight and pointed to the pyjamas warming on the radiator. I told him he could wear the pyjamas or he could stay naked - the choice was his. Of course he blustered about his 'rights' and such nonsense that he had picked up at school, until I told him that he was still a child and under my jurisdiction.
He reminded me that I was expecting visitors, as if that would sway me. I told him it was up to him if he wanted them to see him naked, or modestly attired in pyjamas. Much calmer now he looked at the pyjamas on the radiator then down at the useless towel. I watched as he pulled on the pyjama bottoms and slipped on the jacket.
They were far too big for him, so I helped him by turning up the sleeves of the jacket and pulling the bottoms up high to shorten the length of the bottoms. He struggled with the unfamiliar button arrangement and I happily fastened them for him. The effect on him was staggering, almost immediately after putting on my pyjamas he was a different person. He politely requested that he be allowed to go to bed, but I informed him he had to stay up to say hello to my guests. When he asked me how we would explain his appearance he called me 'Aunty', something he had not done for weeks.
We would say he was recovering from flu and that he had run out of clean pyjamas, I told him reassuringly. When my guests arrived he was politeness personified, sitting quietly and speaking when spoken to. Everyone accepted our explanation of his unusual attire, some even commenting on how sweet he looked in his feminine pyjamas. Only when one of them produced her camera, saying she must have a picture of such a delightfully polite little boy, did he murmur an objection. I felt sufficiently confident to give his bottom a little smack and he posed, admittedly somewhat shyly, sitting coquettishly on my lap - a picture that stands framed on my mantelpiece to this day.
At seven I told him it was time for bed and to kiss everyone night-night  He did so without a murmur and I was soon tucking him into bed in my daughter's old room. where he did not look at all out of place amongst the girlish knick-knacks that defined it as a truly feminine domain.
The next day I kept him dressed in pyjamas to reinforce my newfound discipline and after school on Monday I took him shopping and bought him some female pyjamas of his very own. His pyjamas are little girl ones in primrose and pink; soft winceyette with a frilly lace Peter Pan collar and with teddy bear motifs.
Since then if I feel he has misbehaved, I only have to say ‘pyjama time please’ and no sooner have I spoken the words then he is dressed for bed in his girls' pyjamas cuddled up beside me.
Thank you for promoting this truly effective style of petticoat discipline.
Yours truly,
Margaret

A naughty boy is spanked by his landlady

I have added a link to another blog that I came across recently called mogg stories. In particular it contains stories called Anthony is Invited to a party, and Anthony and the Visit to a Speech Therapist. Anyone who thinks naughty boys should wear very short trousers should visit.

A husband dressed in his jammies and spanked by his step-daughter

This naughty boy appears to bear the brunt of his Aunts disciplinary techniques.

Dear Nanny Smackbottom

I too favour corrective training for all boys until they are of age at twenty-one. Indeed to my mind and to my sight, until that age, they are indeed but children to be controlled, just as legally in the eyes of the State they are considered minors without the rights of adulthood. So I thought you might consider publishing yet another letter which will tell you of my methods with my own nephew.

I have three girls of my own, Kathleen 17, Susan 12, and little Rosemary who is 9. Robin (his full name is Christopher Robin, the name is so late Victorian and reminds me of tunics, bloomers, and curls became my ward when his parents were accidentally killed. He is sixteen. Not having a male child in the house, I did not see that making any changes in deference to a boy should inconvenience Nanny or me, and so from the moment, he joined our family he has been treated just like one of the other children.

Not that he does not wear some boyish clothes at times when he is taken out, but even they are very childish and sissy, such as the girls themselves may wear. I may not cover everything, but I shall catalogue some items which will show that Robin is treated without too much regard for his sex, but being a boy, he has been given fewer privileges than the girls, which is just and right, since boys are more difficult and naturally inferior to girls. And again naturally his training is stricter and his punishment more severe.

Kathleen is old enough to have her own room at 17. Robin and the two younger girls still sleep together in single cots in the nursery bedroom. I considered Kathleen old enough to have her own room when she turned 16 and the other two girls will get their own rooms when they turn 16. Robin will continue in the nursery until he is 21. This means at that age he will be occupying the nursery with Rosemary who will then be 15. I am old fashioned enough to prefer little girls in pretty nightgowns rather than trousered pyjamas. So along with Susan and Rosemary, Robin wears a long white flannelette nightgown with ruffles at the neck and sleeves in winter, and lace-trimmed white cotton nightgowns in the warmer weather.

The children’s bedtimes tend to vary. Naturally, Kathleen, I consider as a girl who is almost grown up. She can go to bed when she pleases as long as she is reasonable about it. Susan’s bedtime is 8 o’clock, and Rosemary’s is seven. To show Robin that as a boy he cannot expect the same privileges as a girl, his bedtime is seven, the same as Rosemary’s. Oh, he grumbled at first, but the swift and stern application of the back of a big wooden hairbrush upon his bare bottom over Nanny’s knee soon convinced him that he had better cooperate.

Naughtiness is always punished in my household. The girls get some little privilege withdrawn temporarily or are not allowed to do something they wanted to do. I do not inflict corporal punishment upon them, it would be a lowering of their image in the eyes of Robin if he saw or heard them being punished. 

Robin is being taught that girls and ladies are very much superior in every way to mere boys and men, with him it is different. Naughtiness is punished swiftly with a bare bottom spanking. There is a deferred punishment as well, for depending on his fault and the number of spanks he may receive with the hairbrush; his bedtime will be advanced by so many minutes. Thus he may be put to bed even earlier than Rosemary.

To impress upon him his naughtiness, the wooden hairbrush that has just been used on his naughty bottom is hung by a ribbon around his neck to be seen by all for the rest of the day. Naturally, both his Nanny-Governess and I punish him for any fault. To impress upon him the inferiority of boys, both the older girls have the privilege of giving him a bare bottom spanking with their hands as well. 

As soon as Robin arrived to live with us, Kathleen was given the privilege as it does deflate the boy’s ego. He is so ashamed to be given a spanking by a girl just a year older than him.

Now that Susan has turned twelve, she also has been accorded the privilege of checking the boy’s naughtiness with a spanking. It is lovely to see even more confusion and shame on the boy’s face when spanked by a girl four years younger than him! It is making him utterly docile to the wishes of his cousins. I need not tell your readers that the girls really enjoy exercising their privilege, especially twelve-year-old Susan. I have made it a rule that neither Nanny nor I interfere when the girls are punishing Robin. Nor do we listen to any complaint from the boy. 

Naturally, the girls, Susan in particular, insist anything he does is naughty and deserving of a spanking should he not please them or fall in with their wishes at once.

Thus he really is under their strict control. If he interrupts the girls they say he is naughty if he refuses to play their games, he is naughty. If he is not extra polite with them, rising when they enter the room, opening doors for them, curtseying when he asks permission to speak, and all the other little niceties of conduct, he is naughty, The girls are really my best weapon to curbing his boyish spirits since I have given them spanking privileges over him! 

As they never want to play boyish games he must give in and play their games. Games like skipping and catch the ball, rolling a hoop, playing with dolls and so on. This itself is a feminising influence.

Little Rosemary teases him by telling him that she too will soon have spanking privileges. Not that she is left out now! She can make the boy; although seven years younger than him do anything she wants by threatening to tell Nanny he needs a smacked bottom. Telling him that she will tell Kathleen or Susan that he is being and not obeying her and that they will give him the spanking he deserves. I sometimes wonder if he needs his bottom covered at all, he spends so much of his time with his velvet shorts or bloomers about his ankles. Sometimes they stand him in a corner after a spanking, with his little red bottom exposed.

I do not know when he is more embarrassed. When Kathleen, just a year older, makes him stand in front of her while she unbuttons his little shorts from his shirtwaist, then lowers his under bloomers and takes him over her knees. Or when Susan, with great excitement and gusto, four years his junior, does the same. It is even more amusing when he is in full petticoat discipline and either of them does the same. This time they embarrass him by lifting up his skirts and yards of fluffy petticoats and lowering his frilly, ruffled panties.

This brings me to the corrective dress discipline that should accompany any boy under strict domestic discipline and correction. I know your readers will be interested in my methods with Robin. I have already mentioned that he wears a nightgown just like the two younger girls. Of course, Nanny dresses him and undresses him as she does Susan and Rosemary, all in front of each other. Let us look in on a morning when Nanny is dressing the children. I shall deal with just the dressing part here. Susan, Rosemary and Robin are all standing naked, their nightgowns have been taken off and their toilets took care of. I shall come back to this later. 

Now the three of them have little silk vests (they are identical) with a small lace trim at the neck, Nanny puts them on, then plain little cotton under bloomers. Now they are indistinguishable and could be taken for three girls of various ages. Robin’s hair is longish and cut into a boyish bob like the girls. As he is slight for his years he could pass for the oldest of the three.

As their Nanny-Governess gives them lessons each morning they are being dressed in their schoolroom uniforms. Before the rest of their clothes are put on, Robin is attended to first. He wears a special garment that the girls do not and he hates it with a passion. It has been the cause of many a smacked bottom; until he accepted it as his fate and that, as a boy he needed it. Nanny then laced him into a very tight small whalebone corset with eight dangling suspenders. Now he looks even more like a girl with his waist so slender and the flesh pushed out at the top and bottom of his corset, giving him rounded buttocks and respectable girlish breasts.

The girls are allowed the modern pantyhose in bright green. Although they want to wear them without under panties or over panties, I do not allow it. Robin wears the same coloured thigh hose gartered to his eight suspenders on his corset. It is good for a boy to feel the pull of taut stockings, reminding him of his bit of femininity. All three children then don white frilled knickers, then their red one-strap shoes. White petticoats with lace and embroidery follow for the girls and Robin alike. Their gym blouses are yellow. A green tie goes with their blouses. Finally, they don their regulation gym tunics in green. They all, including Robin, look like charming little schoolgirls.

They are ushered down to breakfast, where Robin suffers the indignity of wearing a pinafore like Rosemary, but not Susan. Susan was allowed to leave off the pinafore at the age of eleven. Rosemary will also not wear one after her eleventh birthday. Robin will probably be kept in a pinafore until he leaves the nursery, and that won’t be until he reaches 21. 

Usually, Robin endures a further indignity that neither of the girls does, he usually has a pretty baby’s bib tied around his neck, over his pinafore to keep it clean. The reason why he is made to wear this article of babyhood will be revealed soon.

To finish with the discipline of dress for Robin, he does have little boy sissy clothes of velvet and satin short pants, buttoning on to a blouse. The shorts, of course, are without a fly and fashioned at the sides or with a zipper at the back. He has sweet little boy sailor suits, complete kilt outfits for outings, but feminised very considerably by him wearing frilly blouses, lace edged petticoats, knickers and long stockings.

For indoors, besides school uniform, he wears identical play rompers and little girl tunics as Rosemary. For company and dress up, he has a beautiful little girl’s organdie frock with a pink sash, exactly the same as little Rosemary’s. Of course, he wears his frilliest undies with this frock. A pink ribbon was tied in his longish hair. All his hats have elastic that goes under the chin. His reefer coat has brass buttons and is identical with Susan’s, even buttons on the left side as a girl does. Naturally, he wears gloves whenever he leaves the house. His Nanny always escorts him.

I said I would come back to the children’s toilets. Here again, the superiority of girls is impressed on Robin. He wears a nightgown like the girls but while they use the toilet themselves, Robin is required to ask to go to the toilet. Nanny makes him use a child’s potty. These measures are designed to deflate his ego as a boy completely. Nanny, of course, baths him and I allow the girls to watch if they so desire but obviously he may not watch them.

A splendid chance happening enabled Nanny to reduce Robin even more in status and make him suffer the indignity of being pinned in nappies again just as if he were a baby. It seems that Rosemary had a lapse from being toilet trained and wet her bed for a night or two. It gave Robin the chance to tease his little cousin from whom he had suffered so much teasing himself. But it did not last long and Nanny soon brought him to his senses. She decided little Rosemary should wear nappies and rubber baby panties to protect the bedding until she got over her relapse. However, she came to me and asked if it would be all right to put Robin in nappies too since Rosemary might feel ashamed to be wearing nappies in the nursery alone. I eagerly agreed since I knew that there was better discipline for the boy. Naturally, any boy over sixteen would be utterly ashamed at having to wear nappies and frilly waterproof panties when he went to bed, and at being seen having nappies pinned on and taken off by his cousins. 

Nanny then pinned nappies and baby panties on Robin also as well as on Rosemary. In his case, she added rubber sheets for him to sleep between saying that a big baby like him would have to have extra protection besides his nappies and panties. Nanny gave him plenty to drink to ensure that he would also wet his nappies like little Rosemary so that she wouldn’t feel so bad.

After a while, Rosemary was dry again and Nanny naturally left off pinning nappies and rubber pants on her. By putting Robin to bed very early and making sure that he had plenty of warm milk to drink, Robin continues to wake up every morning with soaking wet nappies. It was a very short step to treating him, the mornings he was wet, like a baby and put him in short baby dresses, make him suck a dummy, and give him all his liquids from a baby bottle. He has to wear a lace-trimmed bib with a picture of a baby girl on it, and he is made to act like a baby, or the girls will threaten him with a spanking.

Well, I have mentioned some of the corrective training that I impose on my sixteen-year-old nephew. These measures will continue indefinitely as I am not convinced he will ever reach the necessary degree of maturity required. He knows that he is subject utterly to the orders and whims of five females.

Mrs K. M. Reedwood

His younger sister is in charge. So it's jammies, spankings and early bedtimes for him from now on.

When nineteen year old Philip teased his taller fourteen year old cousin Melissa about her 7pm bedtime it ended up in a boisterous wrestling match that Philip lost. Philip's aunty wasted little time in ordering Melissa to put on her pyjamas and placed her across her lap for a spanking. Then she ordered her daughter into the corner. Philip was smirking to himself. Aunty fixed him with her deadly stare. "You can wipe that smile off your face too my lad. Go and fetch your pyjamas, I am quite aware that you weren't blameless in this affair. You will receive the same punishment as Melissa."  Philip, redfaced,  shook his head in defiance but this only infuriated aunty even further. She marched upstairs and returned with his pyjamas in her hands. Twisting his ear lobe to turn him around she  swatted his backside. "Clothes off now!" She ordered. Shocked by her actions Philip slowly began to remove his things until he was wearing only his underpants. Melissa giggled. "Quiet young lady unless you want to go back over my knee." Melissa quickly became silent. "Those too," aunty said, pointing at his ridiculous white underpants. Reluctantly he stripped revealing his nakedness. Aunty motioned him toward her. She slipped his arms into the pyjama top and buttoned it up. "Over you go."  she motioned, tapping her lap. "But aunty I'm nineteen," he whined. "But you behave like a nine year old," she retorted. Aunty smacked his bottom twice as long and twice as hard as she had Melissa's. So hard and so long in fact that way before she had finished Philip was bubbling like an infant. "You're just a little crybaby aren't you Philip", She taunted as she stepped him into his pyjama bottoms. "In fact you act much younger than Melissa don't you? Go and stand in the corner beside your cousin. Tonight you will both go to bed at 6pm but for the rest of your stay Philip your regular bedtime will remain at 6pm with pyjamas on by 5. Then we will see how you enjoy being teased about your early bedtime." Philip shuffled miserably into the corner alongside his cousin and through the brushed cotton material of his pyjamas gave his painful bottom a rueful rub.

Humiliated with pyjama corner time before a spanking and an early bedtime

Humiliated in little boy pyjamas

I have been ill recently and my Aunt took the opportunity to insist I stay with her so she could nurse me back to health. As soon as I arrived she made me change into pyjamas and put me straight to bed. This was early in the afternoon and Aunty decreed that my bedtime would be 5 pm every night but I was to be kept permanently in pyjamas during my stay. It didn’t take long until Miss Jacobson appeared and one morning I was deemed well enough to serve tea to her sewing club ladies dressed in humiliating pyjamas. I am only five foot tall and my Aunt has always been overprotective. Even when I was a boy my usual bedtime was 7pm, unchanged until I left for University. She has bought me boy’s slippers to wear (size 3.5) so I greet her friends wearing pyjamas with spacemen or trains on them and wearing Scooby-Do slippers, it is hardly surprising they treat me as if I was a seven year old.
 If I complain Aunty tells me I am an ungrateful little boy, she spanks me, with a slipper of course, and brings my bedtime forward an hour for a week. Yesterday at 1pm I was made to wear my little boy pyjamas and stand in the corner whilst my Aunt and Miss Jacobson entertained her book club members. Aunty pinned a card to the back of my pyjamas explaining why I was being punished and I stood there until 3pm when I was made to say night-night to everyone and was tucked into bed.

Pyjama Punishment Poll

Babysitting Teenage Boys

I recently acquired the help of a babysitter for my  sixteen year old nephew Michael. Miss Fanshawe is a woman in her sixties who will adopt a no- nonsense approach to babysitting duties. Michael is very immature and needs constant supervision. Miss Fanshawe has recently imposed alternative measures to myself and is seeking my assurance that she has my support in her methods.

Recently Michael has been allowed to stay up until 7pm on school nights. Miss Fanshawe would like some flexibility in Michael's bedtime.

Should Michael go to bed when he is tired or be set a bedtime. What time would his bedtime be?

Michael is usually dressed in his pyjamas at 6pm. Miss Fanshawe would prefer to dress him in his pyjamas sooner.

At what time should Michael be dressed in his pyjamas and why?

Michael usually wears striped or paisley patterned pyjamas for bed. Miss Fanshawe wants him to wear the yellow and blue teddy bear motif pyjamas she has sewn for him.

Which style of pyjamas should Michael wear to bed?

Michael has a habit of getting out of bed once Miss Fanshawe has tucked him in for the night. His excuse is that he needs to go pee pees. Miss Fanshawe has been dressing him in Dry-Nites Pyjama Pants to combat this whilst I favour more traditional nappy wear.

What nappies would be best for Michael's incontinence, terry towelling cloth or Dry-Nites disposable pyjama pants? Suggest an alternative method of preventing bed-wetting?

Michael enjoys singing and has been asked to sing a night- night song at bedtime and is finding it hard to decide which is his favourite.

Should Twinkle -Twinkle little star or I'm a little teapot short and stout be Michaels bedtime song? Suggest an alternative bedtime song Michael could sing.

Michael has developed a nasty rash on his legs and is scratching until he draws blood. What is the best method to prevent this?

Wearing thumbless mittens to bed or wearing two pairs of pyjama bottoms to bed. 

Due to medication he is being given, Michael becomes tired around lunchtime and often requires an afternoon nap. How should Miss Fanshawe dress him for his nap?

Put into his usual nighttime pyjamas. Undressed and wearing a nappy. What do you suggest Michael's naptime sleepwear should be?

Michael sometimes sucks his thumb when he sleeps. What is the best preventative measure?

Use nail varnish remover on his thumbs. Train Michael to suck a baby's dummy at bedtime. What method can you suggest to prevent thumb sucking?

It will soon be time for Miss Fanshawe to host her monthly ladies sewing society evening.

Should Miss Fanshawe dress Michael in his babyish pyjamas before the ladies arrive or wait until they are all present before fussily getting Michael ready for bed in front of her friends? Suggest Miss Fanshawe's best course of action.

Miss Fanshawe recently took Michael visiting to her sisters and unintentionally stayed beyond Michael’s pyjama time. Luckily her sister lent her a pair of her pink floral brushed cotton pyjamas and Michael was soon properly attired.

Should Miss Fanshawe take a pair of Michael's pyjamas with her when she takes him visiting or rely on borrowing a pair from her host?

Miss Fanshawe does not drive and usually relies on public transport. Michael was highly agitated about travelling home by bus wearing pink floral pyjamas. On this occasion Miss Fanshawe's niece drove her and Michael home.

In future should Miss Fanshawe insist Michael board public transport in his borrowed pyjamas or take a taxi?

Stepmother imposes early bedtimes on father and son

A naughty boy spanked and put to bed wearing his sisters pyjamas

A strict mother has written to tell about the mackintosh and pyjama discipline she imposes on her naughty boy.

Dear Wincy

You asked me to recount my thoughts on the disciplinary methods I impose on my son Jonathon.

I can say without any hesitation that it is unashamedly traditional.  My hope is that it helps other like minded concerned mothers adopt a similar approach in their own approach to home discipline.

Matters first came to head as my son Jonathon turned fifteen and became involved with some badly behaved boys. It  soon became apparent to me that I had no alternative rather than to regress Jonathon back to a time in his life when mummy knew best.

My first action was to introduce a smacked botty for even the most minor of infractions. I facilitated this mode of discipline by ensuring Jonathon wore traditional school boy style short grey trousers that ensured slapping his legs in public was made  much easier.

I have also introduced some of the behavioural standards one would commonly see in years gone by. I now expect  Jonathon to address me as "mummy dearest" at all times.

In addition, any of my frequent guests must  now  be recognised as "aunty" and other ladies he may come into contact with as "Miss".

Most importantly I have now introduced a strict traditional dress code.

Although his school allows sweat shirts and polo tops to be worn optionally, I prefer to send him to school wearing a smart blazer, shirt and tie. Unfortunately they don't allow short trousers but as soon as he's home, this Mummy ensures he's put back into his short trousers right away, plus knee length socks and brown sandals. The grey shorts are unfashionably short and not at all like the shorts that are fashionable today. They're fitted with an elasticated waist, making it easy for these to be lowered when I need to administer a smacked bottom which is frequent.

This is probably a good time to reflect on the first visit to the traditional outfitters to purchase his new clothing. His behaviour had gradually deteriorated until I'd run out of patience. When I was told that he'd used bad language in the presence of a friend of mine I decided that action was required. For the first time in many years I pulled down his jeans and underpants and smacked his bottom. The punishment took him aback and Mummy was definitely in charge from that moment onwards. This gave me the confidence to introduce the punishment dress code  that I'd been considering more and more in previous weeks.

So, making him hold my hand all the way, we paid a visit to the sort of traditional outfitters that are sadly now a dying breed.  A small bell tinkled as I pushed the shop door open and the attentive shop owner and her young assistant  asked if they could be of assistance. I told Jonathon to sit down and behave himself while, out of earshot, I outlined my requirements. I then returned to Jonathon and pushed him into one of the large changing rooms and proceeded to remove his clothing. His initial response was to resist but a slap across his bottom showed him I was in no mood to discuss matters.

One by one, clothing was passed to me through the curtain. One by one, I proceeded to dress him just as one would a small child. First a short sleeved collared shirt, which I buttoned up to the neck. Second, and much to his amazement, a pair of short trousers in schoolboy grey, along with the matching socks. The short trousers were hitched up high, the shirt tucked into them neatly. A grey v neck jumper followed, and a smart blazer too. Finally a pair of Startrite brown, T Bar sandals.

His complaints grew louder by the minute but a series of slaps across his bare legs kept him in check. At this point I opened the curtain and led him into the shop where we were greeted by the two assistants who had helpfully ensured that my requirements were perfectly catered for. The senior assistant made a point of commenting how smartly he was dressed, and wasn't it a pity that other children weren't dressed like this anymore, whereas the younger assistant who couldn't have been more than seventeen smiled at him knowingly. I then proceeded to tell him loudly that these clothes were to be worn from this point forward and that he could wave goodbye to his jeans, t shirts and trainers. It was at this point that I noticed the rails of raincoats assembled in the corner and realised that Jonathon would need appropriate top coats.

Following a brief discussion with the senior shop assistant, the younger one was despatched to locate a navy blue gabardine mackintosh. When Jonathon was greeted by this perceived monstrosity, he threw what I can only describe as a tantrum when I told him that this was to be his new everyday coat. It was below the knee, double breasted with a belt and buttoned to the neck and was a perfect complement to his new outfit. However he was having none of it and let out a series of complaints outlining why precisely he wouldn't wear it. The senior shop assistant held the mackintosh up to him and told him not to be such a naughty and silly little boy and to put the mackintosh on at once. A casual remark from her that he was going the right way for a smack was all I needed and without a moment's hesitation I led him by the hand into the changing room, and pulled him over my lap to administer the soundest of smacked bottoms. The noise was to carry clearly into the shop, but this Mummy was not for turning to say the least.

We returned to the shop assistants and taking the gabardine mackintosh I pulled it over his arms and shoulders. Turning him around to face me I proceeded to button it up in front of everyone as if he was a small child. His eyes said that he wanted to protest, his head said otherwise, and he stood there meekly while I fastened the top button and tightly fastened the belt. Asking him to stand up straight, I judged that the mackintosh was a little on the short side - knee rather than full length. The senior assistant suggested a girl's mackintosh, as these were cut longer than the boys. The look on his face was a picture, but this was a splendid idea, and before he knew it, Jonathon was dressed in a full length girl's mackintosh, buttoned to the neck.

Asking the assistant whether they had a suitable nylon pakamac that could be worn over it, she returned with a wide selection of both boys and girls, suggesting that the girls style would be more appropriate so that it fitted over the long mackintosh underneath. Needless to say this idea was seized upon, and Jonathon found himself being buttoned up into his traditional navy blue nylon pakamac.

I decided that Jonathon should wear his new clothing home, so having entered the shop dressed in the trappings of the 21st century, he departed in short trousers, knee length socks, T Bar Sandals and collared shirt, topped off by the hated mackintoshes - the gabardine and the nylon pakamac. He looked as if he'd been transferred from the 1960's, and had a long face to match. I took him by the hand having adjusted his clothing one last time, and marched him home for the first day of his new discipline, punishment and dress code regime.

I  then decided to reinforce his new disciplinary regime by introducing early bed times. One problem was his night attire. As with his day time  attire I had become lax and allowed Jonathon to wear unsuitable clothing to bed each night, by that I mean

t- shirt and sweat trousers. His new bedtime was to be set so that he was tucked up in bed by 7.30. I determined that to implement this successfully he must revert back to wearing traditional little boys pyjamas and that necessitated another visit to the outfitters to purchase said pyjamas.

Once again the bell tinkled as we entered the shop with Jonathon holding my hand and wearing his fully buttoned up girls mackintosh. The shop assistants recognised him immediately and were delighted to discover the purpose of my visit was to procure some new little boy pyjamas for Jonathon.

A selection of traditional winceyette pyjamas that buttoned to the neck were unfolded and laid out on the glass counter. We had quite a discussion on sizing and style until the young assistant suggested Jonathon should actually try a pair on. Much to his chagrin I unbuttoned his mackintosh and selected a particularly appropriately coloured set which was covered in the sweetest little teddy bears. Jonathon was reluctant to out them on but a few slaps to his bare legs persuaded him otherwise and as he emerged from the changing room wearing his teddy bear pyjamas the shop owner and her assistant made such a fuss of him that he blushed quite red. We left the shop with four pairs of delightfully childish pyjamas which invariably means Jonathon is dressed in his pyjamas ready for bed by 6.30 and tucked in by 7.30. Of course in the event of bad behaviour this bed time can be brought forward. It's not at all rare for him to be tucked up in bed with a sore botty and without his supper by 5.30 if he has been particular naughty.

I hope my account serves as an example to other mothers out there who are thinking about imposing clothing disciplinary measures on their wayward offspring.

Yours faithfully

Etta

Pyjama Punishment Monthly provides an insight into how a wife treats her husband as a babyish toddler complete with nappies and dummies.

Dear Nanny Smackbottom

As a firm believer in discipline for males, I do not simply dress my husband Peter in babyish clothes. I also insist that he behave in a manner befitting his very juvenile status in our household. When properly attired he is required to speak in a soft, childish tone and to use a vocabulary appropriate for a five-year-old. His baby name is Peterkins Winceyette and he must curtsey before entering or leaving a room occupied by “grown ups”. He must ask permission to do most things, such as leaving the dinner table or “going potty.” 

These and many other rules of perfect behaviour enforce his petticoat discipline as effectively as his pretty clothes.  He has become used to wearing his sweet baby outfits, but he still blushes with shame at having to act like a young child, particularly in front of others. Of course, I make sure he has plenty of opportunity to do just that.
 
The other day Peterkins was washing up in the kitchen after lunch.  He wore a pink ruffled pinafore over a crisply starched, back buttoning white blouse with a broad Peter Pan collar.  A precious little pink bow marked the front centre of the collar. Then, high waisted, fly less velvet burgundy shorts buttoned onto the blouse and showed a hint of the heavily frilled pink bloomers he wore underneath.  A dummy hung on a pretty ribbon that buttoned on to his pinafore above the left breast while a lace-edged pink bonnet framed his face and tied in a big bow under the chin. Frilly white anklets and black Mary Jane shoes completed the pretty outfit.
 
As he finished his cleanup chores, Peterkins was looking nervously at the time. I like to get him ready for beddy-byes by four o’clock this is the time when I am at my most gently maternal with him. I undress him, put him into his soft winceyette night clothes give him lots of cuddles on my lap and tuck him into bed at six o’clock.

Peterkins has been taught to suck his thumb whenever he feels anxious, and the sudden ringing of the doorbell made him very anxious indeed.  His thumb leaped into his mouth, and he began sucking vigorously. (He is permitted to use his dummy only when directed to do so.)  He looked at me fearfully, hoping against hope that I would not make him answer the door.  One sharp glance from me dashed any chance of that. He knows from bitter experience that in his sissy clothes he simply cannot resist my wishes.  If I want to display him to a stranger at the door, then I will do so. He knows, too, that any attempt at resistance will only make matters worse for him.  Seeing my determined gaze, he realized there was no escape from his predicament. His eyes lowered, and his face registered sad resignation.
 
Terrified at having to answer the door, yet even more terrified not to, he was actually crying as he toddled to the front hall.  He reached the door just as the doorbell rang a second time.  He opened it timidly, and in strode my sister Jean. She has often seen Peterkins in his baby clothes and nightwear, indeed it was she who named him Peterkins Winceyette after she helped get him ready for bed one afternoon, but she never fails to find new ways to tease and embarrass him.  He is dreadfully afraid of her – dreadfully for him, quite delightfully for Jean and me.
 
Removing his thumb from his mouth, Peterkins managed a timorous curtsey for Jean.
’How vewy nice to see you again, Auntie Jean’, he said softly.
She smiled broadly, relishing the sight of her brother-in-law dressed so babyishly and so obviously intimidated by her.  She approached my petrified husband, untied his bonnet, and retied it tightly under his chin.  His head moved under her firm touch.   She fussed with the little bow on his blouse. She straightened the frilled, crossover straps of his pinafore and fluffed out his collar.  Satisfied with her efforts, she stepped back to view him again.
’Oh Peterkins Winceyette’, she teased, ‘you look so very masculine today, with your cute little shorts.  They are very sweet indeed, but I’m afraid they’re not very grown up, are they, dear?’
Moving behind him, she encircled his waist with her arms and toyed with the big buttons holding the shorts and blouse together. 

‘Only very little baby boys wear button-on's like these, don’t they Peterkins Winceyette?’ Peterkins looked as if he might swoon, and never did manage to answer her questions.

No matter.  She got his full attention by clapping her hands sharply and announcing,

‘Teapot!’  Peterkins knew only too well what that meant.  I have trained him to perform several babyish songs, as I believe they are another excellent way to instil in him the proper attitude and demeanour.  At the top of the list is ‘I’m a Little Teapot’, complete with the appropriate hand gestures. Jean likes it so much that she insists on him performing it whenever she visits. He doesn’t like doing it, but of course, that makes his efforts only more entertaining.  He knows he must perform with a pretty smile and proper infant like enthusiasm, this particularly embarrasses him.  He is several years younger than us and there was a time when she was my rival for his affection. Now she can look at him only with amusement tinged with disdain, particularly when he becomes our charmingly reluctant ‘teapot’.  It must be a cutting reminder to him of how far he has fallen in her eyes.  I love watching him perform, his shyly lowered eyes unable to meet Jean’s commanding gaze.
 
Jean was not quite satisfied with his ‘Teapot’ rendition this time, so she stood him face to the wall in a corner and instructed him to keep practicing.  She and I sat down to tea in the living room as his gentle childish patter serenaded us from the hall.  She occasionally called out from the couch to correct him, a reminder that she was still keeping an eye on him.  He made a fetching sight, chirping away in the corner and adding the obligatory curtsey after each rendition.  His plump bottom, perfectly moulded by the sweet little velvet shorts, bobbed enticingly up and down with each curtsey.
 
When Jean was almost satisfied that he had achieved the proper gestures, the doorbell rang again.  Of course Peterkins was once more reduced to tears.  Not knowing what to do, he put his thumb back in his mouth, and Jean and I couldn’t help laughing aloud at the silliness of it. 

 
Jean left him in the corner and answered the door herself.  This time it was Grace, the 22-year-old young woman who used to baby-sit for the neighbours children. Grace had not met Peterkins, but Jean had told her about him and so we invited her around to see him when Jean would next be visiting.
 
Grace took one look at Peterkins in the corner, paused in disbelief, and started to laugh.  She tried to restrain herself, covering her mouth with her hand, but that only made her laugh harder.  She could only point at him and continue laughing helplessly.
Poor Peterkins didn’t know what to do.  He remained in the corner, furiously sucking his thumb and casting furtive sideways glances at Grace.  He couldn’t bear to look at her yet couldn’t seem not to.  He might have stood there all day if Jean hadn’t taken him by the hand and introduced him.
 
’Grace’, said Jean, ‘I’d like you to meet Master Peterkins Winceyette isn’t he sweet?’

The absurd name prompted another titter from Grace, as did a shy curtsey from Peterkins.

‘How do you do, Peterkins Winceyette’, Grace smiled.  ‘What a perfectly lovely name!’

It was all dreadfully and delightfully unfair. He was trying so hard to be good but was finding only more embarrassment for his trouble.   As Grace looked at him delightedly, Peterkins hung his head in defeat and a tear trickled down his face.
 
Now it was my turn to comfort him. Catching his tear with my finger, I sat him upon my knee and cradled his head against my chest. Peter is small in stature and  I find it easy to accommodate him this way. I popped the dummy into his mouth and made him nurse quietly as I soothed him with baby talk.

’Oh my poor ickle Peterkins.  Mummy knows ‘ow tewwibly frightening it is when big stwange ladies see just how ickle and pwecious oo are . . ..’

Jane quickly picked up on my baby talk and began to tease him.

‘Ickle Peterkins is like a fwightened bunny wabbit, vewy scared of the gwown ups’.

Upon hearing her words I immediately remembered his new pyjamas as I had sewn for him. A pair of  lacy, frilly, yellow winceyette pyjamas with a bunny rabbit motif. Of course as soon as I mentioned the existence of the pyjamas Grace and Jean were insistent that he should be dressed in them at once.

Grace volunteered to undress Peterkins and she gently removed his bonnet, shorts and blouse before helping him into his quite delightfully frilly babyish pyjamas which were adorned with a pattern of fluffy baby bunnies. Jane and I looked on with amusement as Grace popped his head into his pyjama top and he emerged surrounded by the froth of a large floppy frilly collar. Three Mother of Pearl buttons secured the neck and a long pink ribbon fastened into a pretty bow at the neckline. Even more lace decorated the bodice and Grace commentated as she dressed him. The cuffs of the sleeves were lightly elasticised and fringed with more outrageous frilliness. When he was all buttoned into his pyjamas, I once again cradled his head against my chest, gently stroking his cheek as I did so

Peterkins does like to be babied but only in my presence, he becomes ashamed when others are here as he is exposed as the complete baby he is.  Closing his eyes, he managed to escape his shame momentarily, and melted into my arms as I cuddled him. Slowly his sobs subsided. Then he opened his eyes to discover Grace bending forward and looking directly at him only inches away from his face.
’Boo!’ she said playfully and pressed her index finger against the tip of his nose. Grace could not have been gentler, but her overtures made the big baby dissolve into tears again. We roared with laughter.  
‘He does seem to be the perfect cry baby’ observed Jean. 

‘Ickle Peterkins has lost his cuwwidge, hasn’t he?’ she teased, ‘I wonder where it could be? Have the bunny wabbits on Peterkins jim-jams got his cuwwidge I wonder?’

She waited for him to answer; ‘come along answer Aunty Jean,’ she ordered.

Poor Peterkins was forced to shake his head no in reply and then Jean proceeded to make my poor hubby hippity hop around the room like a bunny rabbit, looking high and low for his lost ‘cuwwidge’.

Unfortunately his pyjamas bottoms were a tad too large and Peterkins had to hang on the waistband whilst hopping to avoid them falling down. Jean’s seemed oblivious to his plight as she set about making him look for his ‘cuwwidge’ all over the house.

It didn’t seem to be on the mantelpiece, or under the couch, or in the magazine rack.  Peterkins was required to inspect each area and to tell ‘Auntie Jean’ that no, his ‘cuwwidge’ wasn’t there and he didn’t know where it might be. Jean pretended to be stumped, but a mischievous sparkle in her eye told a different story.  Announcing that Peterkins must have accidentally thrown his ‘cuwwidge’ away, she brought a rubbish basket from the kitchen, placed it on the living room floor, and told Peterkins he had better look in there.  Peterkins glanced nervously into the basket and said no, his ‘cuwwidge’ wasn’t there, Grace and I couldn’t help laughing at my pathetic husband and he once again burst into tears.

 
Grace took pity on Peterkins.  She knelt beside him and cradled his head in her arms then kissed his tears away. As we sat down to tea, Grace placed him into his high chair tied on his baby bib and set about feeding him. Tenderly she encouraged him to eat up his pureed vegetables. Then she patiently sat and ensured he drank a full baby bottle of his special sleepy time milk. Responding to her gentleness, Peterkins became a charming, docile baby and even formed a shy liking for his new mistress.  All agreed that we had found a new babysitter for Peterkins that afternoon.
 

Jean insisted on one more round of ‘Teapot’ before his six o'clock bedtime and Peterkins managed to get through it this time without blubbering, smiling timidly in response to our applause.

‘Come along Baby Peterkins, time to prepare for beddy-byes, go fetch your potty.' Peterkins once again looked slightly fearful but I ushered him through to the cloakroom. He returned momentarily clutching his pink potty and his dry-nite. We three ladies watched delightedly as Peterkins removed his pyjama bottoms and squatted on his potty looking like an overgrown toddler.

'Who's a good boy den?' I praised as I sent him scurrying off to discard the contents and when he returned it was time to put on his dry-nite pyjama pants. At first Peterkins was going to be petulant but  Aunty Jean soon had him stepping into them and she pulled up his pyjama bottoms.

"There now, Peterkins needs his nappy-wappy on because he spends such a long time in beddy-byes doesn't he?" I said sitting him once again on my lap. Now be a good boy and  kiss Aunty Jean and Aunty Grace night-night and we'll get you tucked in shall we?’

It took another five minutes to get him into his bedroom as the two ladies made such a fuss of petting him and telling him how sweet he looked all ready for beddy- and then kissing him goodnight umpteen times that when I eventually got him upstairs I had to smack his botty to calm him down..

I tucked him in then sat on the edge of the bed pushed his dummy into his mouth and gave him a dire warning about the consequences of getting out of bed once he was tucked in. A kiss on the forehead and I left Peterkins in his darkened room to reflect on another eventful day as Peterkins Winceyette.

 Geraldine Harwood (Mrs)

Melissa makes Philips pyjama punishment even worse.

At 8:32 on Saturday morning there was a knock on the door. Philip was sitting at the breakfast table still wearing the red striped pyjamas he had been put to bed wearing the previous night at 5.30. Philips bottom was still sore from the hairbrush spankings he had received, one each from Agnes and Enid Thurston and what was worse he had suffered the indignity of being put across the lap of his friend from college Melissa and was spanked by her too. He had then been put to bed whilst the three females remained chatting and drinking coffee together. "Well up you get and answer the door you lazy boy, do you want another reminder from our hairbrushes." Philip wasn't happy about going to the door wearing his red striped pyjamas but he decided it was the lesser of two evils. " Good morning Philip, I had forgotten how ridiculous you look wearing those pyjamas, we need to get you out of them quickly." Melissa grinned at Philip as she looked down at him. Only yesterday he had hoped  they could be more than friends but he knew now that her six foot two body was never destined to be with his puny and diminutive four foot eleven frame. Especially now he was aware that the Thurston sisters were acquainted with her mother. She pushed Philip  in the small of the back and propelled him into the hallway. "You appear to have lost your naughty boy placard too Philip, you are careless." Melissa was welcomed by the Thurston sisters like an old friend. "Did you bring them?" Inquired Enid. Melissa held open the bag she  bought with her and withdrew a pair of pink floral winceyette pyjamas. "I haven't worn these since I was about ten, "she said unfolding the pyjamas, but they will still be rather large on Philip I suspect." She said, holding the pyjama jacket up against Philip who immediately tried to back away from the hideous garments. Unfortunately for Philip he stepped back straight into the arms of Enid. "Now, now where are you going? You didn't think yesterdays wilful disobedience would be done and dusted with a  little corner time, a triple spanking and an early bedtime? Melissa kindly suggested  a punishment weekend where you would learn to behave by wearing these lovely pyjamas." Philip tried to break free from Enid s grasp but Agnes was already undoing the buttons of his striped pyjamas and slipping the jacket off his shoulders. His was quickly divested of his pyjama bottoms and was totally naked in front of the three females. "No..no I won't wear them.." He gasped, struggling to avoid being enveloped in pink floral winceyette.  Melissa and the Thurston sisters had other ideas however and soon he was being buttoned into the pink pyjama jacket and the pyjama bottoms were hoisted high past his waistline. Agnes returned from the printer with a another placard. She showed it to Philip before pinning it to the back of his pyjamas.
Read it out Philip, good and loud." Philips voice was close to tears as he was forced to say out loud.
 "I  was a naughty boy so have to wear floral winceyette pyjamas all weekend as a punishment."
Melissa guided Philip to face the kitchen wall as Agnes scolded him. "Into the corner with you naughty little boy while the grown ups talk. Another hairbrush spanking across our knees is imminent for you but we still have to decide what further punishments we can devise for the rest of the weekend."

A Spanking Cornertime for this Naughty Little Boy

"What is the meaning of this?" The Thurston sisters had returned early to find Philip in the kitchen brazenly drinking coffee with a young lady. "I..I.. thought you weren't coming back until 4.30 stammered Philip, spilling coffee as he anxiously looked at Agnes and Enid.  The sisters ignored his question. "Well, aren't you going to introduce us?" asked Agnes. "This is Melissa my friend from college, she..she is helping me with an essay." Philip managed to reply despite turning a very pale colour. Melissa these are my landladies Agnes and Enid.. I m..m..m..mean Miss Thurston and Miss Thurston," he babbled. Melissa nodded to the two sisters, "Good afternoon ladies, I believe you know my mother Mrs Hazard? Anyway I had better be going, Philip, I will see you on Monday." Enid smiled, " Mrs hazard's daughter, indeed we know her very well, please, stay and finish your coffee my dear, did you know that Philip was a very naughty, disobedient little boy?" Melissa laughed nervously. "Well I know he's not the tallest, ha-ha but.." Enid joined in the laughter as Agnes left the kitchen. "That's not quite what I meant. When Philip left this morning he was told that as we would possibly be detained in town he was to come home, take his bath, put on the pyjamas that he would find laid out on his bed for him and to sit quietly in his bedroom until we arrived home." She turned to look directly at Philip, "is this not the case?"   " Y..y..yes Miss Thurston." Philip cast his eyes down to the floor. "You willfully disobeyed us didn't you? Undress please Philip." Poor Philip looked aghast. "Oh no Miss Thurston, not here,  not in front ...." Miss Thurston again ignored him as she addressed Melissa. "You see what a naughty little boy he is Melissa? Perhaps you could help by turning that computer on for me?" She asked pointing to the laptop that stood on the worktop. Melissa  depressed the button and the computer began to whir into life. Philip removed his shirt and trousers and socks but had to be cajoled into taking off his underpants. "I am sure Melissa has seen naked little boys before, I believe you have two younger brothers is that not correct?" Melissa confirmed this was so, she now seemed relaxed and unperturbed at Philips predicament.
"Here we are," said Agnes returning to the room carrying Philips red striped pyjamas. "Time to get you ready for beddy-byes." Melissa watched as the two sisters buttoned him into the pyjama jacket and stepped him into the pyjama bottoms. "This is how you should have been attired two hours ago," Agnes said as she tied pyjama cord into a neat bow. Philip wished the ground would swallow him up as he stood looking ridiculous in his pyjama clad state in front of Melissa who was busy speaking to Enid. "Would you print that for me dear? Thank you." Melissa laughed out loud then began typing. Seconds later the printer chugged out a piece of A4 paper. "Show Philip what it says please Melissa," prompted Enid. Melissa smiled and held up the piece of paper. "Sorry Philip, if only I had known I would have bathed you and put you into your pyjamas myself. I have done it often enough times for my brothers." Philip moaned as he read the print on the sheet of paper. It read, I am a naughty disobedient boy and deserve to be spanked after my pyjama corner time.
"Hands on head and into the corner with you Philip," ordered Agnes. "We three girls will have little chat about how we can improve your behaviour and after that we will fetch our hairbrushes and deliver a sound spanking to that naughty bottom of yours. You can be certain that this weekend will involve lots of smacked botty and early bedtime for you Philip dear."

His landladies deliver a well spanked bottom to this naughty boy

When Philip attempted to sneak in late to his lodgings the two Thurston sisters were waiting for him.
"What time do you call this young man?" Agnes asked.

" I...I... I 'm sorry for being late but it .." he stammered " Enid Thurston held up her hand.

 "Silence! We don't want to hear any of your lies. You were told to be home by five thirty and it is now five thirty two, therefore you will be punished. Off with your clothes." 

Before he could respond, two pairs of female hands began to remove his clothing. Between them, they quickly reduced the eighteen-year-old to nakedness. 

"Stop it please, what are you doing?" He gasped frantically trying to preserve his dignity.

His hands were slapped away. 

"Agnes pointed toward his tiny pee-pee, "really Philip, it's hardly worth the effort is it, you really are a little boy aren't you?" 

He stared shamefaced at the floor then realised that Enid Thurston was holding his pyjamas. The blue striped pair his aunt had bought and packed for him. He had told her that he would not be wearing pyjamas now that he was a student but she had insisted all the same. "You never know, the nights may be chilly and you'll be glad aunty made you take your pyjamas.

Enid flapped out his pyjama jacket. 

"Come along into your jim-jams, we know full well your aunt expects you to wear pyjamas and you failed to put them on last night didn't you, naughty boy?"

Without waiting for an answer, Enid turned him around and from behind, placed his arms in the pyjama sleeves and bought it up and around his shoulders as if a tailor was fitting a suit. Quickly, she spun him around and began fastening the buttons from the bottom upwards, finishing with the top button despite his squirming. His aunt had always insisted on the top button of his pyjama be buttoned as well as tucked in pyjama jackets. She slapped his hand away as he attempted to undo the button that strangled his throat.

"Ah...ah." No you don't, we must follow your aunts instructions."

She stepped back to admire her handiwork, running her hand down the front of the pyjama top to smooth it.

"There much better," she said. Agnes had been patiently waiting, holding his pyjama bottoms open and now she moved forward, bending down in front of him as Enid firmly gripped his shoulders. 

"Step!" She commanded, and Philip obediently lifted his leg and stepped into the pyjama bottoms. 

"Again," she said, and once more he pointed his foot into the pyjama bottoms. Agnes pulled the blue striped pyjama trousers half way up and ordered Philip to bend over. He noticed the two sisters now each brandished a hairbrush

Agnes bent him forward and caressed his buttocks with the bristles of the brush.

"Time for your punishment Philip, just as your aunt predicted, this is what happens to naughty boys who come home late and don't wear their pyjamas to beddy-byes. Let's get you spanked and tucked into bed. Your aunt recommended you be tucked up in bed no later than a six o'clock bedtime every night and we intend to abide by her decision."

Philip thought he had escaped his pyjama punishment spankings and early bedtimes but he was beginning to realise that his aunt would not give up her control over him easily.

An early bedtime and pyjama punishment regime imposed on Simon by strict aunty Beatrice

I thought you might like to read about the bedtime schedule I impose on my nephew Simon.  

He was in great danger of going off the rails and ruining his life before I became involved in his life and introduced him to an early bedtime and pyjama punishment. Now, at the age of seventeen, he goes to bed on school nights at 6.30. I collect him from school at 3.30 as if he was a toddler and as soon as we arrive home I supervise bath time and dress him in his pyjamas ready for bed. 

My neighbour Miss Fulbright, makes his pyjamas especially for him. She chooses the most ridiculously babyish patterned material of winceyette brushed cotton to make his pyjamas from and I can tell you that he absolutely hates wearing them, especially the footed jammies she makes for him. 

He looks so crestfallen each afternoon, as I button him into his little boy pyjama jacket and tug up his pyjama bottoms. Once he is safely dressed in his pyjamas he goes across my knee for his first bedtime spanking. I like to spank him as soon as he is in his pyjamas to remind him that he is just a little boy being punished. 

He then settles down to his homework until I call him for his supper at 5.30. At 6 o’clock he brushes his teeth and presents himself to me. It is then that I take him across my knee for his second bedtime spanking. After his spanking, I sit him up and he receives a cuddle from aunty before I take him by the hand and lead him upstairs to tuck him into bed. 

His bedtime is set at no later than 6.30 but usually, it is about 6.20 when I tuck him in and kiss him night-night.

The bedroom is strictly functional. There are no electronic distractions, just a child's two foot six wide bed and a chair that I sit in to read him a bedtime story. His curtains are made from blackout material and ensure no daylight can penetrate once they are fully drawn. This is particularly helpful during the lighter nights as Simon is reluctant to go to beddy-byes when there is still daylight for many hours. 

I use a nightlight to read to him but once this is turned off, his bedroom is left in total darkness to help induce a long, healthy nights sleep.

On Friday night his routine is exactly the same, he is bathed and dressed in his pyjamas at his usual time. I did experiment with letting him stay up until 7 o’clock, but since he was so used to his earlier bedtime he became tired and irritable so I reverted to his normal weekday bedtime. 

On Saturday I like him to be ready for bed by 3 pm for a 5 o’clock bedtime. Miss Fulbright and her sister come for afternoon tea at 4 o'clock each Saturday and they enjoy seeing Simon dressed in his babyish pyjamas since after all, she is the one who has kindly sewed them for him. 

Last Saturday for some reason, Simon, despite a telling off, had a tantrum and absolutely refused my attempts to get him ready for beddy-byes dressed in a lovely pair of lemon-coloured bunny rabbit pyjamas made from the softest winceyette material you could imagine. I desperately wanted him to wear them especially to greet the Fulbright's as they love to sit him upon their laps and cuddle him admiring his jim-jams.

Sadly, instead, he ended up in tears across my knee. He was still sobbing when the Misses Fulbright arrived and I am afraid I had no choice other than to make him crawl upstairs like a fractious toddler might and put him to straight to bed well before 4 pm. 

It was such a shame as he looked so sweet in his bunny jim-jams and the Fulbright's were obviously disappointed at having to wave him off to bed so early. 

I have promised to take him around to their house one afternoon to visit for tea when I will take several pairs of his jim-jams that he can model to make up the disappointment to them. 

On Sundays, I prefer him to be wearing his pyjamas by noon. He is bathed and pyjamaed as soon as we return home from church and I like him to be in safely tucked up in bed for 4 pm ready for school on Monday. 

If anyone has some ideas as to how I can develop his bedtime regime I would appreciate any advice. 

Alternatively, some may think I being too harsh on Simon and maybe I should be more lenient with Simon’s early bedtimes and pyjama punishment?

Please let me know.


Summation of Simon's pyjama and early bedtime regime

Monday-Friday

Pyjamas on by 4 pm, first over the knee spanking 4.05 second over the knee spanking 6.05 bedtime by 6.30 pm

Saturday

Pyjamas on by 3 pm first over the knee spanking 3.05 second over the knee spanking 4.45 bedtime by 5 pm

Sunday

Pyjamas on by Noon first over the knee spanking 12.05 second over the knee spanking 3.45 bedtime by 4 pm

Yours truly

Beatrice Halewood.