Wednesday, 13 August 2014
It will come as no surprise to learn that Richard felt, now he was fifteen years old and a teenager, that his mum should allow him a little more freedom. Richard thought she was too strict; always finding things with which to occupy his time so that he never seemed to be able to do the things he wanted to do. Regularly Richard would sit down on the edge of his bed and bemoan the fact that he never had any time to himself.
Then there was his privacy… or rather lack of it, and not for the first time Richard would wonder if there were any other boys of his age who were still being bathed by their mums; still having to endure strict pyjama-times and bedtimes. If there were, Richard didn’t know them; but of course, he’d think to himself, what boy would be stupid enough to let it be known that he had to endure such childish treatment as he did every day. It was only now that Richard had passed his fifteenth birthday that he was allowed the privilege of a 9 o’clock Sunday to Thursday ‘school’ bedtime which was extended to the previously unheard of 9.30 on Friday and Saturday evenings. However, pyjama-time on all days was the same… 8 o’clock. Another privilege recently gained was that Richard was permitted to have his bedroom light left on so that he could read for ten minutes after bedtime. The light was turned off by mum when she came upstairs to make sure he was tucked up in bed properly. These privileges were hard won, but could easily be suspended or withdrawn completely, as Richard knew only too well and so he tried his best to be a good boy.
As a fifteen year old, the humiliation Richard felt at being treated in such a way was intense. He felt frustrated at every turn. He so desperately wanted to rebel against what he saw as mum’s suffocatingly petty rules, but the routine of his day left him little opportunity. Every time mum praised him for being a good boy meant Richard had fallen once more into what he saw as the trap of obedience. And it wasn’t just the endless rules and being made to do things ‘properly’, it was the way mum got Richard to agree she was right, so that he would feel complicit in her actions when what he really wanted was to rebel! But the way things were, it was as if Richard agreed with the restrictions imposed upon him... as if he wanted to be treated like a little boy!
Then there was the subject of his pyjamas. The style of pyjama Richard was allowed to wear hadn’t changed at all over the years. For as long as he could remember Richard had always worn the same boyish winceyette pyjamas which mum ensured were always buttoned up properly, that is to say the top button was never allowed to be left undone. Whereas all the boys Richard knew had rather more stylish pyjamas, or slept in T-shirts and boxer-shorts (an item of apparel that mum would never countenance Richard wearing), or wore something he’d heard of called ‘leisurewear’; some boys even claimed to wear nothing at all and said they slept totally bare-nude!
Richard could never imagine his mum allowing him to sleep in the nude, but the very idea of doing so gave him such a frisson that he was determined to find out at the earliest opportunity whether it was really as thrilling an experience as he thought.
One night as Richard lay awake he decided on an experiment to see what it would feel like to go bare in bed. He didn’t dare take his pyjamas right off, that would have been far too dangerous. Richard was scared stiff that mum might suddenly burst into his bedroom unannounced and find him up to something naughty. Instead he loosened his pyjama bottoms and by wiggling under his bed-sheets he managed to push them down to his ankles. Richard was careful to leave his pyjama bottoms at his feet just in case he had to pull them back up in a hurry. Next Richard pulled up his pyjama top up over his tummy as far as it would go without undoing any of the buttons…
Wow! Richard felt really naughty as he rolled about under his bed-clothes. The feel of his bare skin against the cotton sheets was very exciting as Richard, for the first time, experienced something of what it would be like to sleep in the nude. He rolled over onto his tummy and pushed his hips into the mattress… now he felt extremely naughty indeed as his bare and very stiff penis rubbed against the bottom sheet.
Oh, how he longed to play with himself! Just like any healthy young boy of his age, Richard loved to rub his hard penis, but he was terrified he would be caught and so had to content himself with the unsatisfactory situation of leaving his youthful penis tingling with unrequited pleasure.
Too fearful of sudden discovery, Richard thought it wise to end his experiment, so he pulled up his pyjama bottoms and pulled down the top... now more than ever eager to sleep bare-nude at the earliest opportunity!
Worse than the restrictions of his everyday routine were those days (all too frequent it seemed) when Richard would come home from school to find one or more of mum’s friends sat in the kitchen or living-room engrossed in earnest conversation.
Richard’s mum, apart from her role as Akela leading the local Cub Pack, was a stalwart member of the local community, forever on the lookout for things with which to get involved. Someone with more knowledge and experience than Richard would call it ‘displacement activity’, but mum’s zeal to ‘do good works’ simply drove Richard nuts. Hardly a week went by when he would come home to find yet another group of local ladies being organised by mum.
These were the sort of women who would spot the shelf upon which sat pictures of Richard at mum’s Cub Camp. These were the pictures that would lead to all sorts of embarrassing questions being asked, such as whether he was really older that ‘that other boy’. The other boy in question was of course Paul, who had caused Richard so much grief at Cub Camp. And Richard would, once more, have to endure the teasing which it seemed always followed the revelation that he was in fact fifteen and in the local Boy Scout troop.
The teasing, however, was the least of Richard’s worries for it often came about that his pyjama-time would become due before mum and her friends were finished with whatever it was they were doing. Richard was always expected to remember his pyjama-time and he always did, particularly after what happened just a few weeks after his fourteenth birthday...
Richard was never likely to forget what had happened when he arrived home from school one day to find mum and some of her friends sat in the living-room. Richard had shyly, but politely, exchanged greetings with the ladies. He tried his best to ignore the comments about how smart he looked wearing short school trousers and how it was such a shame that more boys of Richard’s age didn’t wear short trousers to school too, but it was difficult as Richard was expected to thank the ladies for their interest in the way he was dressed.
Inevitably Richard would find himself blushing as he was kept standing in front of everyone and complimented on the length of his extremely short, thigh-baring school trousers and how they showed off his ‘lovely smooth boy’s legs’. This would always be followed by a plea from one of mum’s friends that she hoped Richard ‘would be kept in short trousers’. Richard knew the answer to this only too well and it will come as no surprise to learn that mum expressed her intention to keep Richard in short trousers for a good long while yet as she waxed lyrical on the positive benefits to boys of a strict short trouser regime.
Still red-faced and by now blushing profusely, Richard went off to do his homework, relived to be free of mum’s friends and their well-meaning compliments.
Later on, after his tea, it was getting very close to Richard’s pyjama-time which, as he he knew quite well, had been set at 7 o’clock. Richard naturally began to feel uneasy as mum’s friends were still earnestly discussing the forthcoming village fete and showed no sign of departing. He was far too polite, and not a little nervous, to interrupt mum and her friends. Richard had been brought up to behave demurely in the presence of grown-ups, particularly when they were busy with things that didn’t concern him. Besides, the last thing that Richard wanted to do was to draw everyone’s attention to what he considered to be a somewhat early pyjama-time for a boy of fourteen.
Seven o’clock came and went and Richard was still dressed in his school uniform. He thought that perhaps he’d been given a pyjama-time extension, as by now Richard knew he would normally be upstairs in his bedroom ready for mum to put him into his pyjamas.
Richard was gazing at the living-room clock when all of a sudden mum realised what time it was: “Richard…! Just look at the time! Why didn’t you tell me how late it was? It’s long past your pyjama-time. You should have reminded me, Richard...”
It was clearly all Richard’s fault that he wasn’t properly dressed in his pyjamas by now.
“Sorry mum… I…” he said, about to explain that he didn’t want to interrupt what mum was doing, but he wasn’t given the opportunity.
Richard’s face turned bright red as mum ignored her guests and admonished him: “You know that you have a 7 o’ clock pyjama-time when you’ve school in the morning, Richard. Why didn’t you tell me it was time for me to put you into your pyjamas?”
Richard hung his head in shame and mumbled his apologies: “Sorry, mum… I didn’t mean to…”
“What boys mean and what they do are not the same at all, Richard.”
There were murmurs of agreement from the ladies present.
Richard’s face got even redder as mum then turned to one of her friends: “Amelia, I wonder… it’s well past Richard’s pyjama-time and there’s so much more we need to discuss about the fete… would you be so good as to go up to Richard’s bedroom and fetch down his pyjamas while I get him ready?”
Richard was mortified: “Mummm…!” he whimpered, barely able to look up at the other ladies who were all smiling knowingly at him. Richard knew exactly what ‘getting him ready’ would involve.
“Now Richard, you know full well that you should have reminded me it was your pyjama-time…”
“But… mummm! Can’t I go upstairs… Can’t you put me in my pyjamas upstairs like you always do? Please mum...”
“Don’t be silly Richard, I haven’t the time to argue with you…” mum turned to one of her friends and added, “We’ve still to agree who’s to run the tombola…”
“... and the bran-tub,” the friend replied.
“Yes, the bran-tub... now, Richard, let’s get you undressed before Aunty Amelia comes back downstairs with your pyjamas…”
[A word here about how Richard had been taught to address grown-ups. Any friend of his mother was always to be considered as an aunty or an uncle, therefore it was perfectly natural for Richard’s mum to refer to her friend Amelia as Aunty Amelia even though they were not related.]
There was a note of panic in Richard’s voice as he pleaded: “But… mummm! Please… not in front of everyone...”
“Richard, I’m warning you… It’s your own fault for failing to remind me it was your pyjama-time. Now let’s not have all this fuss. No one here is in the least bit bothered about seeing you put into pyjamas…”
Richard was beside himself. He didn’t want to be put into his pyjamas in front of all mum’s lady friends, whether or not they were ‘in the least bit bothered’, as his mum had said. It was he, Richard, who was going to be undressed in front of everyone. He, Richard, who would have all his clothes taken off and then be put into his pyjamas… put into his pyjamas right there in the living-room! No one else in the room might have been bothered about a fourteen year old schoolboy being undressed and made ready for bed, but it certainly bothered him! He was, Richard told himself, a teenager now. Surely mum could see he was old enough to be given some privacy?
Another of mum’s friends, Mrs Ryder, spoke up: “Come along Richard there’s no need to be shy in front of us…” Then she turned to Richard’s mum and added, “My Roger is just the same and he's sixteen! Honestly, you’d think a boy of that age would have got over his shyness by now, but Roger hates anyone to see him in the bare. It really is so silly. Boys don’t seem to realise that no one, mums least of all, are the slightest bit concerned about seeing them with no clothes on…”
Of course, Mrs Ryder, along with every other mother that Richard could think of, failed to take account of how the boy felt. It’s just typical, Richard thought, mums never think how it might feel for a boy to be undressed and put into pyjamas in front of a roomful of women! Mums never seem to have any consideration for a boy’s privacy and just because your mum sees you in the bare, it seems that every other mum has the right to see you bare-nude too! Not for the first time Richard concluded that a boy’s life was just not fair…
While Richard was thinking his thoughts, mum had started to undress him and it wasn’t long before he was standing in the middle of the living-room in just his school vest and underpants. To be fair, mum’s friends carried on talking just is if Richard wasn’t there and completely ignored his obvious discomfort. This didn’t help because however embarrassed he felt, Richard knew that he would be feeling a lot more red-faced when mum pulled off his school vest and took down his white school uniform underpants.
“Arms up!” mum instructed, “Come along Richard, do as you’re told and get your arms right up so we can get your vest off…”
Richard did as he was told and was made to feel extremely vulnerable by raising his arms right above his head. Mum pulled his vest out from the waistband of Richard’s school underpants and then tugged the vest upwards to leave it scrunched up at the top of Richard’s chest just beneath his chin. Feeling his face burning with embarrassment, Richard held his arms above his head and waited for the inevitable.
Mum’s hands came back down to the elastic waistband of the white cotton underpants. Richard held his breath and stole a quick glance at the seated ladies. He bit his lower lip as mum pushed her fingers into the waistband and with an ease born of many year’s practice, pulled Richard’s underpants down, first over his bottom, then she brought her fingers round to the front... Richard shivered.
“Keep still darling,” mum said sweetly, “...we’ll soon have you undressed and ready for your pyjamas.” And with a firm, but gentle tug, Richard's school uniform underpants were pulled down to his ankles.
At that moment Aunty Amelia returned and entered the room carrying some brightly coloured boy's pyjamas.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a long time,” she said, “but I thought for a moment that Richard had a much younger brother when I saw the bedroom. Then I remembered that Richard was an only child, so it must have been his bedroom… but I’d never have thought a teenage boy… well, perhaps he likes his bedroom decorated that way, or perhaps... still, I suppose he must like it… but I was surprised when I found his Jungle Book pyjamas folded neatly on top of his Mister Man bedspread…”
Now that Aunty Amelia had the attention of everyone in the room, she held up Richard’s childish pyjamas and let them unfold so the pattern featuring all the Jungle Book characters could be seen properly.
“I hope they are Richard’s pyjamas…?” Aunty Amelia queried.
There was no response from the embarrassed, red-faced boy and in fairness to Richard, he was so lost in his shameful predicament that he probably didn’t realise Aunty Amelia was talking to him. But there can be no excuse for ignoring a grown-up. It is simply not polite and mum had to prompt Richard for a reply. She did this by the simple expedient of a swift, sharp smack to Richard’s bare thigh: “Richard, Aunty Amelia is talking to you,” she said.
The stinging smack took Richard by complete surprise and before he knew what was happening another sharp smack caught him on the back of his legs. Quickly he responded in order to avoid any further leg-smacks: “Yes, thank you Aunty Amelia… yes, they’re my pyjamas…” he said.
But unfortunately for Richard this wasn’t enough and after another sharp smack from mum, he added: “Thank you for fetching my pyjamas, Aunty Amelia.”
Amelia spoke to Richard in the tone of voice she would normally have used to speak to an eight year old: “Are these your favourite jimmy-jams, Richard?”
Foolishly Richard thought that by saying ‘yes’, Aunty Amelia would be satisfied.
“Oh isn’t that nice… and who’s your favourite Jungle Book character?”
“I err… I don’t really have one…” Richard mumbled.
“Oh Richard, I don’t believe you’ve not got a favourite Jungle Book character,” Aunty Amelia insisted.
Richard was getting more and more embarrassed. Aunty Amelia seemed to have ignored that fact that he was standing in the middle of the living-room for all intents and purposes bare-nude, surrounded by all mum’s friends. He still had his arms raised up high above his head as he waited for mum to finish undressing him. With his underpants at his feet and his vest pulled up, Richard couldn’t have felt more embarrassed if he’d tried.
Aunty Amelia could see that Richard was getting upset. “Oh, silly me,” she said, “Here I am, wittering on when mummy should be getting you into your lovely pyjamas and ready for bed.”
Amelia turned to Richard’s mum: “Here, let me help… save you getting up…” she said as she put the pyjamas to one side and came to stand by Richard. She gripped his school vest.
“Keep your arms up Richard and we’ll soon have this vest off… there we are!”
Aunty Amelia had stripped Richard of his school vest and he now stood with just his schoolboy underpants at his feet and mum soon had those off.
“If you’d only reminded me it was your pyjama-time…” mum repeated, leaving Richard in no doubt that it was his own fault he had to be put into his pyjamas in the living-room in front of her friends.
Richard stood and waited bare-nude as mum folded his clothes. Aunty Amelia seemed to be in no hurry to retrieve his childish pyjamas.
“Is he this shy on bath nights?” Mrs Ryder asked.
Richard blushed so hotly he thought he was on fire. With his legs red where mum had smacked him, his face glowing from embarrassment and his ears burning, Richard just wanted to run out of the room; run anywhere away from these tormenting ladies however well-meaning they were.
Mrs Ryder stepped forward and playfully squeezed Richard’s chin.
“My, but you are the shy one! What a red face!” she said teasingly. “Why, I don’t think I’ve seen such a shy, red-faced little boy in... well, I don't know how long! Even my Roger doesn’t get quite as red as this when I get him undressed for his bathtime.”
(It wasn't until later that Richard realised the full implication of what Mrs Ryder had said. It seemed as if he would continue to be bathed by mum for a good long while yet if boys as old as sixteen, like Mrs Ryder's son Roger, were not allowed to bath unsupervised.)
“You can put your arms down now, Richard,” mum said.
Although Richard was relieved to be given permission to lower his arms, he was well-behaved enough to realise that to try and ‘cover up’ would be a mistake. He knew that if he did so he would only be chided for his undue modesty. So, as the women continued to fuss around him, Richard bravely stood still and waited with his hands hanging limply at his sides.
Just when Richard thought he was about to be put into his pyjamas, Aunty Amelia announced that she’s found some loose stitching in one of the seams in Richard’s pyjama-bottoms.
“If you’ve a needle and thread handy I can have it repaired in no time,” she said, “We don’t want your jimmy-jams falling apart in front of everyone, do we Richard?”
Richard failed to see how the chances of his pyjama-bottoms suddenly and spontaneously falling apart could possibly be worse than standing as he already was, bare-nude, in front of a roomful of mum’s friends. All he knew was that he was destined to have to wait until the repairs were carried out; more time to be spent embarrassingly bare in front of everyone.
But Richard answered politely: “No, Aunty Amelia…” and was forced to endure more pyjama-time humiliation as he watched Aunty Amelia slowly sew the seams of his pyjama-bottoms.
Amelia looked up: “I expect Jungle Book pyjamas weren’t designed to be worn by rumbustious 14 year olds… You know how boisterous older boys can be at bedtime. Who knows what naughty boys get up to when mummy has turned off his bedroom light…” she teased.
“I should hope he gets straight off to sleep!” Mrs Ryder said firmly.
Poor Richard was getting even more embarrassed as the women chatted. And the more they chatted the more flustered Richard became. He couldn’t help but conclude what they were talking about; that naughty boys played with themselves after ‘lights out’. Once that thought had taken hold, Richard started to feel a tingle where he most definitely should not feel a tingle… especially when he was bare-nude in front of mum and her friends!
“Of course Roger always claims it wasn’t his fault,” Mrs Ryder continued, “‘It was an accident, mum!’ he’ll say… ‘I didn’t mean to, mum… honest, mum.’ If I had a pound for every time I’ve heard Roger make excuses for his… you-know-what… emissions, why I’d be a rich woman… a very rich woman!”
There was a ripple of laughter around the room. All the mums knew just what Mrs Ryder was talking about.
“I know exactly what you mean,” Mrs Harris said, joining in the conversation, “It’s worse when they have friends for a sleepover…”
“Boys will be boys…”
“Yes, but I wish they wouldn’t… not when they’ve just been put into clean pyjamas!”
The thoughts this conversation was conjuring up in Richard’s fevered imagination were causing him real and all too apparent problems. It was no longer possible for Richard to look down at himself; he knew, without needing to look, that his penis was beginning to misbehave.
It's scarcely possible to convey Richard's feelings as this nightmare unfolded. A boy of 14 has very little control over his penis at the best of times. One thing is certain however, the pubescent penis is programmed to cause a boy maximum embarrassment. It will erect in the most unfortunate of situations, such as the one in which Richard now found himself. And once a boy’s penis has started to stiffen, it is a fact that the more he wrestles with himself to stop it happening, the stiffer his penis will become.
So it was with Richard. He knew it was only a matter of time before he was hauled over the coals for his behaviour. Richard was so deeply embarrassed that he wouldn't have been at all surprised if steam wasn’t to be seen escaping from his ears.
Nothing would stop Richard’s penis from becoming fully erect.
“Richard! Stop that right now!” mum snapped the moment she saw what was happening. Mum was of course quite used to seeing her son in such a state of excitement. More often than not bathtime would would see Richard's penis pointing straight up as mum briskly washed and dried his ‘privates’. So it was not so much the sight of Richard standing in the middle of the living-room with a full erection that upset mum, as the fact that her fourteen year old son had got himself over-excited in front of all her friends.
“How dare you show me up in front of my friends…” mum said.
“Sorry, mum…” Richard said as his face got even redder, as he stood with his smooth and still quite hairless penis on display.
“I’m warning you, Richard… If you don’t stop that right now…”
“Please, mum… I can’t… I’m sorry…” Richard was on the verge of tears as he pleaded in vain.
"Don't take that tone with me young man!"
“But, mum... I... I'm sorry... I really am..."
“You’ll be even more sorry in a minute if you don’t behave yourself,” mum said and landed a sharp, stinging smack on Richard’s left thigh. “Hands on your head… now!”
Richard did as he was told and was forced to display his errant penis. He felt extremely vulnerable and knew that at the very least he would spanked for his naughtiness. But to be spanked in front of all mum’s friends was something else altogether. Already he could hear them ‘tut-tutting’ as they sympathised with his mum.
“Fancy… and I thought Richard was such a nice, well-behaved boy…”
“You never can tell… the quite ones are always the naughtiest…”
“What a mum has to put up with…”
Richard’s ears burned as he heard the ladies exchange their views on naughty boys in general and his naughty penis in particular. He knew it was pointless to plead with his mum, but this didn’t stop him from mumbling his apologies as he abased himself in front of everyone.
“It’s no use saying ‘sorry’, Richard,” mum said as she continued to admonish her son, “I’ve heard all your excuses before. For heaven’s sake, Richard, you’re fourteen years old now… It's high time you stopped this childish behaviour and learnt to control yourself… Showing off like this doesn’t impress anyone…”
Richard heard more ‘tuts’ and ‘shames’ from the ladies as he stood with his hands pressed firmly on the top of his head. He was dreading what was going to happen.
“Please, mum… I didn’t mean to…”
“Richard, that’s enough…!” mum said and gave her son another resounding smack on his upper left thigh with her hand that made his stiff penis wobble from side to side.
“Sorry, mum…” Richard mumbled.
Mum had her own special way of spanking naughty boys and Richard bit his lower lip as he contemplated his forthcoming punishment. He watched as mum sat herself down. All eyes in the room were focused on Richard as he was called over to face his mum. He walked the few steps across the room and out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Aunty Amelia had paused in her sewing to watch his punishment along with everyone else.
Even though his legs felt like jelly, Richard’s obstinate penis still pointed upwards in what looked to the ladies like an act of defiance. This was reason enough, they all thought, for a sound spanking. Mum patted her lap…
Richard climbed onto his mum’s lap and sat facing her with his legs wide apart. His legs dangled down either side of mum's lap. His toes just touched the carpet as Richard lowered his head for mum to tuck him under her left arm. This position made Richard feel hopelessly vulnerable as his bottom was fully presented for its spanking. It also felt exquisitely humiliating, since Richard was very aware that everyone in the room was looking at his bare bottom spread wide, ready to receive its spanking from mum.
“I’ve got far better things to do than to waste my time spanking naughty boys, Richard,” mum said as she settled her son into the proper position on her lap.
“I’m sorry, mum… really I am…” Richard apologised.
“Saying you are sorry doesn’t change things, Richard… It’s not good enough just to say ‘sorry’. Why, if it were that easy boys would think they could do anything… then just by saying ‘sorry’ everything would be alright… But that’s not how we deal with naughty boys in this house is it, Richard?”
Mum’s hand was resting on Richard’s bottom. He felt its warmth and knew that shortly it would be raining spanks down on his defenceless bottom.
“How do we deal with naughty boys, Richard… naughty boys who think that just by saying ‘sorry’ everything will be alright?”
This was the worse part of one of mum’s spankings. Richard hated being put through the torment of his admonishment. Bad though a spanking undoubtedly was, it was made far worse by having to answer mum’s questions.
Richard knew everyone was listening as he was forced to debase himself further: “A bottom spanking, mum…”
“Just a bottom spanking, Richard? It doesn’t look to me as if you’re going to receive just a bottom spanking. Isn’t there something else about your spanking that you’d like to tell everyone?”
Richard could actually feel tears welling up in his eyes as he answered: “… a bare bottom spanking, mum…”
“That’s right, Richard. A bare - smack - bottom - smack - spanking…”
And as Richard jerked and bounced about on mum’s lap his spanking got underway. Soon his legs were flailing about as his toes beat out a tattoo on the carpet. He shamelessly pleaded for forgiveness as mum continued to smack his bare bottom. When she paused it was only to adjust Richard’s position so that she could spank her son’s thighs… or rather the sensitive inner thigh, which Richard found to sting so unbearably.
Soon Richard’s bottom and the tops of his legs were bright red as mum continued with the punishment of her naughty son. As Richard’s legs felt the full force of his well-deserved chastisement some of the ladies nodded their approval. They had sons of Richard’s age and knew full well the truth of the old adage that to spare the rod (or hand in this case) was to spoil the child. They knew the sort of behaviour they had been forced to witness had to be dealt with. Richard could not be allowed to willfully show off in front of everyone. Letting himself get all excited for no reason at all was just the sort of behaviour that had to be nipped in the bud, or else who knew where it might lead? Of course mums knew exactly where that sort of behaviour led and that’s precisely the reason they had to be vigilant and precisely the reason that Richard found himself so ignominiously laid over mum’s lap receiving his bare-bottom spanking in front of a roomful of his mum’s friends.
Poor Richard continued to apologise and beg for mum’s forgiveness in between his shocked gasps as the spanks continued. Not until mum was completely satisfied that Richard had been properly disciplined for his transgression, did the spanking finish and Richard allowed to raise his tear-stained face.
It would be unkind to dwell upon the sorry sight that Richard presented; after all what fourteen year old boy would need to be reminded of such a humiliating pyjama-time punishment. You can be sure that Richard never forgot what happened; how after his spanking he was sent to stand and face the wall with his hands on his head. His red bottom and very sore legs on display as Aunty Amelia repaired his Jungle Book pyjamas and the ladies discussed Richard’s naughty behaviour until his bedtime.
Richard was finally called out to stand in the middle of the room and made to apologise to everyone. Aunty Amelia put him into his newly repaired pyjamas and made sure the top button of the jacket was done up properly.
“It’s straight up to bed tonight, Richard,” mum said, “No reading-time, so lights out once you’re tucked up in bed… and straight to sleep!”
“Yes, mum,” Richard hung his head. He knew he was in disgrace, “Sorry, mum… Sorry I was naughty…”
With that Richard gave everyone a goodnight kiss and was taken upstairs to be put to bed.