Hi again folks. following on from Judith's captivating story, I have been sent this fascinating contribution from a female reader, to whom many thanks - it all helps take a little pressure off yours truly while I struggle to complete volume 2. It is also very inspiring and the latter tale does have a taste of the frustration engendered by those hospital issue latex incontinence bloomers that Susan finds herself placed in within the pages of INSTITUTIONALISED volume 1, with their neat little integral key operated locking waistband. Perhaps its time for some proper purpose designed locking pyjamers - nicely latex-lined where it matters and fasting with a locking zipper at the back of the neck?"Reading Judith's story brought back memories of my own punishment, in particular one of the last occasions I was punished at home.
One evening shortly after I had left school I went out with a couple of girlfriends to a local music festival without telling my parents, knowing very well they would not approve and would probably forbid me to go. We had a fantastic time and met up with a couple of boys who took us for a drive in their car. I knew it was getting late and I was under strict instructions to be home by midnight, but lost track of time and before I knew it realized that it was already way past the time I should have been home. I tried to ask the others to drop me off but they didn’t take any notice at first. I knew I would be in big trouble if anyone heard me coming in, so tried to creep in through the garage when I eventually arrived home but unfortunately my parents were waiting up for me. I tried to apologize but my mother simply told me to go straight to bed, adding that she would deal with me in the morning. I was hardly able to sleep, dreading having to face my mother in the morning.
I decided the best thing would be to appease my parents by getting up early and helping with the horses so quickly got dressed in a sweater and jodhpurs and went out before breakfast to start clearing up the stable yard. After a while, my mother came out demanding to know where I had been the previous evening. I told her we had been given a lift and had broken down, but it was obvious she didn’t believe me.
“It’s pyjama time for you, young lady,” she said. “You can’t say you haven’t been warned. Go in and get undressed. I’ll be up in ten minutes.”
I knew she meant me to wear the pyjamas she always made my sister or I wear whenever we were punished. They were a pair of old school pyjamas she had sewn together at the waist. To make matters worse, they had to be worn back to front so that they buttoned up at the back, making them difficult to remove without help. It was so degrading and I really hated having to wear them. Sometimes my mother would make me stay dressed like that that for a whole day, locking the rest of my clothes away so I couldn’t wear anything else.
On this occasion however, I stood there in the yard refusing to do as instructed, pleading with my mother. “Please, mother. I’ve said I’m sorry. I really am. It won’t happen again, I promise.” It was futile to argue with her but the thought of such a degrading punishment was just too awful.
“Go and do as you are told or you will only make things worse for yourself,” was the inevitable response.
With tears of frustration in my eyes, I made my way indoors clinging to the hope that I might at least avoid a spanking if I complied. Back in my bedroom I decided to change back into the pyjamas I had been wearing earlier, again hoping my mother would accept that as punishment enough for a girl of my age. Undressing and pulling on my pyjamas again, I felt intensely silly as the sunlight streamed through the window. But I was also very scared. It had been nearly a year since I had last been punished with a spanking and I hated it, not just the pain but the awful humiliation.
Of course my mother was having none of it when she eventually came in with the punishment pyjamas she kept specially for such occasions. With one look at me standing there in a pair of pretty pink satin pyjamas, she shook her head.
“It’s no good wearing those, my girl. Take them off, you know the rule.”
“No... Please mother… I'm eighteen now... You can't make me wear those horrible things any more.... Please…” I protested, but to no avail.
“Yes, you are, so you should know better. But if you behave like a little girl then you will be treated like one. Come on, do as you are told or else you will not be allowed out riding with us tomorrow....” My mother knew the threat would be enough. More than anything else, I had been looking forward to the hunt the following day and desperately did not want to miss it.
With a groan of despair, I obeyed. As I had done so many times in the past, I put on the pale green winceyette pyjamas that I had once worn at boarding school, except that the jacket and trousers had been sewn together and I had to put them on back to front so that I even had to wait while mother fastened the buttons up at the back, knowing just how ridiculous I must look in such a childish outfit. As soon as she had finished I had to leave my bedroom which was then locked to prevent me from getting at any of my clothes. Even my sister’s room was locked as well. I wasn’t even allowed any underwear, feeling cold and naked underneath the thin pyjama material.
“How long have I got to stay like this?” I asked wretchedly, wondering just how long it would be before my mother decided I had been punished enough.
“Until I say so,” came the usual reply. Dressed in those awful pyjamas, all I wanted to do was hide in the bathroom but I knew that if I went downstairs and helped with the housework I might be allowed to have my clothes back sooner than if I just stayed upstairs.
Looking back, it seems ridiculous that I submitted so meekly to such a degrading punishment but I so wanted to be allowed to join everyone the following day that I was prepared to endure anything to appease my mother. As it was, I remained in pyjamas for the rest of the day until supper when I was allowed to get dressed. More than anything, though, I dreaded the possibility anyone else seeing me like that. I think I would have died of shame."
I had a similar experience when I was found to have been smoking during my summer holidays when I was 17. My parents were furious and punsihed me in a very severe manner which thankfully I had not experienced previously or thereafter. As I had behaved in such a distrustful and stupid way they decided I would be spending the next two weeks of my holidays in detention dressed in school uniform. I was shocked at the thought of being dressed for 2 weeks in my school skirt, shirt and blazer and having to do school work all day but as I was taken to the guest bedroom where I was to serve my detention I could not imagine the severity of the consequences of my action. The room had a desk and hard wooden chair in the middle of it and here the full extenet of my punsihment was revealed. I had to dress not in my normal school uniform but in something more junior befitting my behaviour and so that it was clear to everyone who saw me that I was being punished. Having removed my jewelry and make-up I had to dress in plain whiote knickers, grey knee socks, my black laced shoes, a blue shirt, maroon and blue striped tie, grey pleated pinafore dress and finally a V-nck grey cardigan. Finally my mother made me put my hair in a ponytail. This was how I was to dress for the next 2 weeks. I was fearful that I would not escape a spanking despite my age but I had underestiomated the extent of my parents anger. I was to be spanked every week of my punishment and receive four strokes of the cane immediately. I argued and the punsihement was increased to six stokes. It was the first and final caning I have ever received and was both painful and humiliating. The two weeks which turned into three because of my lack of discipline were a severe lesson. I was confined to my room writing endless lines not doing useful school study. I had to attend meals with the family, explain my predicament in front of visitors and was made on occassion to stand in a corner or facing the wall hadns behind my back or on my head. On the three Sundays during my punsihment I had to attend Church in my uniform for everyone to see - it was awful. The most humiliating moment was when my father decided taht, as I was continuing to be non-compliant during my first week of punsihement, my first spanking would be carruied out in front of my brother and sisters. Being bent over his knee in front of them, my dress lifted, my knickers stripped to my knees and then spanked until I was crying uncontrollably with pain is not something I have ever forgotten. I was certainly taught my lesson and made an example of - suffice to say I have never smoked again.
ReplyDelete