The Guest House - Babysitting


by Paul Crewe <Short_pants@hotmail.com>

New readers are advised to read the previous episodes of this story, as the situation and characters are not explained here.

Thank you to all those who took the trouble to email a response to my efforts. I was touched by their kind comments.

This episode explores a new dimension, apologies if it is not to your taste. ..............

The Guest House. Babysitting.

As the summer faded, business naturally declined at Colin's Guest House in Margate. Colin reflected that it had been a most eventful year. Shortly after he had placed a cane, paddle, and tawse in each bedroom, breakages had almost ceased, and bookings had rocketed. He was so busy, in fact, that he had not had a single vacancy throughout the summer period. Now, late September, things were getting quieter. There were quite a few mature couples coming, taking advantage of the lingering sunshine and cheaper prices, and a few families with pre-school children. Most of these little kids were treated to a good smack-bottom as and when the need arose, but the punishment instruments were just gathering dust. One or two swishing noises were heard coming from the rooms occupied by the old folks, it seemed that one is ever too old to deserve a smack, but large-scale public beatings had ceased with the departure of the last school-age child.

That is not to say that the toddlers got off lightly, every little leg or nappy-clad buttock received it's due share of crisp attention, but only open hands were applied to such tender skin. These demonstrations of parental control, however, were always swiftly delivered, over in a few moments, and had no ceremony about them.

Mark became popular with the younger element. He would play little games with them - such as hide & seek, relay races, organise tumble sessions with large cushions – and generally keep the toddlers amused during the pressure periods after breakfast or before evening meal. Mark had a natural affinity with the pre-school guests, something which Colin and the parents quickly recognised. So it was a natural progression for Mark to be appointed nursemaid, and baby-sitter. This enabled the parents to have an evening out, a break from their tiring toddler, and a more relaxing holiday.

Colin was pleased to see Mark taking some responsibility, and had a quiet word with him about supervising the babes, prior to the first official evening 'creche'. Colin made it clear that the parents expected Mark to discipline the little ones as and when they needed it.

"The kids will test you, to see what they can get away with, Mark" Colin preached. "You must set clear rules, and punish every time one is broken. No letting the kid off, no half-hearted smacks."

"I understood, Sir, certainly you have set a good example," Mark agreed, rubbing his buttocks in an exaggerated gesture. Mark had taken to wearing his school uniform in the afternoons, and the seat of his grey shorts displayed two very sharp creases, ironed carefully each lunchtime.

"Right then, is there anything else on your mind."

"There is one concern, Sir" Mark fiddled with the hem of his white-lined shorts, which reached to mid-thigh. "What if I have to change a nappy?"

"That's a good point, we'll have to give you some training." Colin was pleased that the boy was thinking ahead. "I'll ask Mrs Wilson if she can teach you. She's had lots of experience."

Later that afternoon Mark and Colin ascended to the second floor, where Mrs Wilson was staying with her husband and their three young children. Mark looked delightful in his red pullover and grey shorts. He had checked that his grey knee-high socks were pulled up and neatly turned over, the two red bands prominently displayed. Colin let the eager boy go first, admiring the view as he followed the teenager up the stairs.

Graham was four, and wore a nappy whilst in bed. Sarah was two and a half, and still in nappies full-time. The baby, Simon, was 15 months, and not yet talking, but could walk quite steadily, although he would occasionally fall down onto his bottom with a plop. Mr Wilson was playing cards in the lounge with two older men, the three babes were in the room. Graham was looking out of the window, watching a large container ship cruise up the Thames estuary. Simon was asleep, but stirring. Sarah was in her mother's arms. The girl wore a short summer dress, and sandals with no socks. She wore a clearly visible white disposable nappy.

Mrs Wilson took charge. "I'll show you what to do, then you can have a go. We'll use this doll first, then you can help with each of the children."

"The disposables are easy," she handed the schoolboy a new one. "They are held in place with these sticky tags" Mrs Wilson pulled open a tag, and Mark did the same. "You position it under the child's bottom, and then bring up the front." She demonstrated on one of Sarah's bigger dolls.

Mark had a go on the doll. It was easy.

"Now lets do it with the wet-wipes and the cream"

Mark practised the whole process. He was quite adept at lifting the doll by the ankles and smoothing cream onto it.

"I think you've got it" Colin smiled.

"These are terry squares." The mother produced a white towelling cloth.

"There are lots of ways to fold a nappy, but for older children I prefer the American style, which uses two pins" She folded the cloth in half vertically, then folded the lower third onto the centre third.

"You prepare the child as before, and then bring this thick section up. Secure it with a pin either side, similar to using the tags on a disposable."

"Looks easy" Mark was impressed.

"It is, but fitting the pin is the hard part. You have to put your hand behind the nappy, so that you can feel the pin as it comes through the cloth. Prick yourself, not the baby."

"OK, have a go on the doll." Mrs Wilson shook the cloth by one corner, and passed it over.

Mark straightened out the cloth, and folded it as he had been shown. Then he fitted it to the doll.

"Very good" praised Mrs Wilson as she inspected the doll. "Any questions?"

"Yes, these terry squares seem to be bigger that I had expected. Are they special ones?"

"No, they're quite normal. A little baby would use size one, 24 inches square. These are size two, 28 inches square, and ideal for 4 year-olds. Size three, 36 inches square, would do for kids up to 12. You would need a size four, 48 inch square," she giggled.

A cold shiver ran down the boy's spine. Mark did not like the thought of wearing a nappy. He definitely did not like the thought of having a guest fit it.

"So they come in a variety of sizes?" Colin asked.

"Yes, actually, I got a free sample pack when I bought these ones. I received one each of the larger sizes, and a pair of matching plastic pants. I use the big nappy as a bath-towel for Graham, there it is one the rack."

"What happened to the big plastic pants?" Colin pursued.

"They're here, still in the changing bag, never been opened" Both adults minds were heading in the same direction, Mark's had got there well ahead of them, and he was edging towards the door.

"Mark, come here!" Colin ordered in a severe tone.

"Please, Uncle, don't" Mark looked upset.

"You came up here to learn. You've shown us that you can put one on a doll, but it is essential that you see it from both sides."

"But I don't need to wear a nappy" Mark whimpered.

"You need to know how to put one on, and to know how it feels when you're having it done. Now, let Mrs Wilson do it, or I'll make use of that cane" Colin pointed to the rattan hanging from the peg on the wall.

"How long do I have to wear it for?" Mark tried damage limitation.

"An hour or two should be enough, what do you think?" Colin turned to Mrs Wilson.

"Yes, that should be plenty. Of course, it would be better if he wore it until it needed changing"

"I'm not going to use it" Mark declared. Mrs Wilson acquired the large square from the towel rack and folded it neatly. She put it on the floor, along with the plastic pants, cream, wet-wipes, and nappy ping.

Mrs Wilson placed a changing mat onto the floor, then kneeled in front of it. Mark, resigned to the experience, stood timidly in front of her. The two little children sat on the bed to watch, the youngest was still sleeping.

"Don't worry" she smiled, "I've seen it all before" Mark blushed. He had been spanked and stood bare-bottomed in the dining-room corner two nights ago. One of the guests had taken exception to Mark's staring and giggling at his admittedly ill-fitting wig. As was the custom, the guest has administered his own justice. Although having his genitals exposed was now common-place, Mark still felt shy.

The kind lady lowered his shorts and he stepped out of them. Mark felt her hands grasp the waistband of his white briefs, and pull them down to his ankles. Once more he lifted each leg in turn.

"Lie down, and spread your legs wide apart."

Mark did so. This was much worse than being spanked, at least for a spanking you are face-down, and in the corner you have your back to the room. But here, the centre of attention is your proffered genitals.

"If he was to wear a nappy regularly, this would have to go" Mrs Wilson ran her fingers through Marks small bush of pubic hair.

"First you clean up." She took a wet-wipe from the tube and wiped around his shrunken penis, then up the front of his groin. Then she lifted Mark's right knee into the air with her left hand. Mark felt obliged to lift the left leg up. She wiped between his now well exposed cheeks.

"Typical boy, never clean" She commented as she discovered slight brown traces in his crack.

"Now apply the cream." She still had his legs in the air, and smoothed the white substance onto his buttocks using her right hand.

"Bring in the nappy whilst you have the legs up" The cloth was positioned under the big boy's bottom.

"Then lower the child into place." Mark was lowered. He felt his legs being spread apart again.

"Put some cream on the front, and it's done" Mark felt a stirring in his loins as the cream was rubbed onto his genitals and lower abdomen.

"Now, bring up the cloth." Mrs Wilson folded the thick terry material up and pressed it down onto Marks tummy. Mark immediately felt better, now that he was not so exposed.

"Pin up one side first" Mark watched with fascination and fear as the sharp pin was threaded through the cloth.

"Then pull the nappy tight before pinning up the other side." His lesson continued.

"Put the plastic pants on, and it is finished" Mark felt the cold plastic around his leg, and the elastic progress up towards the nappy.

Mark lifted his lower back clear of the mat, in an instinctive gesture, to enable the waterproof pants to be fitted to his nappy-clad bottom.

"Stand up, boy" Mrs Wilson ordered. Mark complied, you just can't help feeling compliant when wearing a nappy.

"How does it feel?" Colin enquired. Mrs Wilson packed away her tools.

"Very embarrassing at first, but now that it's on it's not so bad, Sir."

"I mean, how is it for comfort?"

"Oh, fine. It's a bit bulky between the legs, but not as much as I had expected."

"Do you think you've learned anything from having it put on?"

"Yes, Sir. I think it did help"

"Good. You are now ready to practise on the children. Let's start with this one." Mrs Wilson announced, reaching for Sarah. "First prepare your kit. Take a clean nappy, baby-wipes, and some cream from the bag. Use a disposable."

Mark extracted the necessary items, choosing a large disposable nappy from the already open packet.

"Now, put them on the floor and kneel next to them."

Mark kneeled at the foot of the plastic changing mat which was already on the carpet. His plastic pants rode up his thighs to reveal almost all of his hairless muscular legs.

"Good. Now take hold of the baby." She pushed the little girl in his direction. Mark picked her up under the arms.

"That's it, lay her down in front of you"

The girl complied as Mark laid her on the mat.

"That's it. She has a disposable on, just peel away the tags at the side."

Mark peeled them back, and pulled the front of the nappy down. Sarah, a veteran of nappy-changes, opened her legs to let it pass. Mark saw, and smelt, the brown paste contained within. His face contorted.

"You'll get used to that, boy" Mrs Wilson grinned. Mark looked up to Colin for support, but his Uncle just stood, arms folded.

"Right, pick up her legs with your left hand." The young woman instructed. Mark obeyed.

"With your right hand, wipe the bulk of the poo off her, use the inside front portion of the nappy to wipe her."

Mark figured out what she meant, and got most of the foul substance away from the child's skin.

"Now, fold over the used nappy, and secure it with the tags. Put it to one side."

Mark did as she said, thinking how hard it is to do these tasks single-handed.

"Very good, boy. Take a wet-wipe from the tube"

Mark reached over and got hold of the exposed white tissue which was impregnated with some soapy solution. As he pulled one, it exposed the next, then tore off. Neat. He thought.

"That's good. Wipe thoroughly, make sure you clean out her crease, as well as wiping both buttocks."

Mark cleaned the child, and lowered her feet back to the floor.

"You're not finished" Mrs Wilson informed him. "With girls, you have to spread her legs and make sure there is no poo up her front"

Mark was shocked. However, he took another wet-wipe, folded it twice, and very gently wiped the girl's vagina using one corner of it. He was careful not to insert anything inside her.

"That's fine. You are doing a wonderful job." Mrs Wilson was genuinely pleased. "Take some cream in your right hand, and smooth it over the whole area which will be covered by the nappy. Use the left hand to lift her legs as necessary."

Mark carefully applied the Vaseline based product to the little girl's bottom. Sarah was being very patient, but this was now the longest nappy-change of her life. Still, she liked the attention, and lay calmly as Mark creamed, lifted, rubbed, and manipulated her.

"Now take the clean nappy in your left hand, open it, and place it under her bottom"

Mark did so, guessing that it would have to start at the girl's waist.

"That's fine, separate her legs and bring the front up. Be careful not to touch the front panel with the hand that you used for the cream."

Mark, concentrating, did the job.

"Excellent, just peel off one side, and stick it down"

It was done.

"Now, peel the other side, pull the nappy tight, and stick it down."

Mark looked at his handiwork. Before him was a smiling little girl, dress up around her waist, legs spread wide, clean nappy secured. She raised her arms. Mark leaned forward, picked her up. Sarah wrapped her arms around Mark's neck and kissed him on the cheek. Mark cuddled the babe and looked at Colin, whilst smoothing her dress down.

"Well done, Mark" the manager smiled.

"Yes, well done, boy" Mrs Wilson praised him. "You just have to put the dirty nappy into a bag, tie it up, drop it into a bin, and wash you hands."

Mark set Sarah back onto her feet, and the girl was instantly away, pit-stop over, back to the race. Her dolls were waiting. Mark completed the chore, washing at the sink, which each room had.

"Right on cue" Mrs Wilson announced as she lifted the wakening baby from his cot. "Now you can try with a boy. Take Simon"

Mark took the surprisingly heavy boy from his mother, and repeated the whole process. The baby wore a white short-sleeved body suit, which buttoned under the groin. Mark took it off, as it was stained with saliva and spilled milk from an earlier feed.

This time there were no instructions, just two watching adults. Mark worked thoroughly, again grimacing as he opened the nappy to reveal another manure pile.

"Do they do that for every nappy change, Ma'am" He asked as he worked.

Mark carefully sought out and wiped away traces of poo from in the creases at the sides of the boy's testicles, as well as up his bum crease. He was amazed that babies had such big testicles.

"Most times. You only normally change a nappy following a poo, unless it has become very wet. But they only have small stomachs, and will poo four or five times a day."

"So a wet nappy is not changed"

"That's right. They don't mind it being wet, if they've got cream on their skin. The nappy keeps the liquid warm, and it's not uncomfortable unless it gets soaked. Besides, they pee every 15 minutes"

"I see." Mark had by now cleaned up the little boy, who was becoming restless.

"Make sure you put plenty of cream onto his ball-sack."

Mark did so.

"If he wriggles, just lift him up and slap his buttock firmly." Mrs Wilson had seen the mischievous look in her younger son's eye.

The boy rolled onto one shoulder, in defiant gesture.

Mark did not hesitate. He lifted the boy's ankles high, then SMACK.

"Arrr. Arr. Arr" The naughty infant instantly cried, but stopped trying to twist away, and lay down.

Mark finished the job with no further disruption. Mrs Wilson handed him a clean body-suit, which Mark placed onto the naked body. Simon, by now, had stopped crying, and let Mark fit the garment over his head and then poke each arm through. Mark secured the three poppers between the little boy's legs and leaned forward over the finished product.

Simon smiled and raised his arms. Mark lifted the boy up and he too squeezed Mark's neck in loving embrace.

"They like having a nappy-change. It makes them feel loved, cared for, as well as more comfortable." Mrs Wilson informed him. "But you have to be firm, or they will mess you about forever."

"Yes, my uncle has taught me about respect" Mark looked up at Colin, who smiled back.

"Now for the last lesson" Mrs Wilson turned to the window. "Graham, come over here, please." Graham had been silent through-out the nappy-changing lesson. In fact, nobody had noticed that he had been amusing himself by drawing a neat picture of a ship, just like the one that he had seen sailing west.

As a sketch it was a masterpiece of four-year-old art. The ship had two funnels blowing black smoke, a flat top with a control tower at the rear, and rode upon deep waves. Waves carved deep into the plaster. Graham had drawn upon the wall, using a biro. The ink was bad enough, but he had found the biro didn't write too well, so had pressed hard, gouging lines into the painted surface. From an artistic point of view, the effect was marvellous, black lines and white lines, adding depth to the image. Graham was pleased with it.

As Graham turned round, his artistic talent was revealed. Colin and Mark just stared, open-mouthed.

"Oh my God" Mrs Wilson was stunned.

Sarah ran to her mum, and climbed upon her knee.

Graham saw the faces of his admiring public, and felt sad. His art was not appreciated. Then he remembered that his previous work had received a poor review from the critics. On that occasion his felt-tip rendition of 'circles and lines' on the dining-room wall had resulted in a smack, and some harsh words. This attempt, he mused, was a far better portrayal of maritime skills, the previous work being regarded as too modernist.

"Just look what you've done" Bellowed his mum.

Graham cried. His best efforts were not going down well at all. What do these people want from an artist?

"You've ruined the wall" She squealed. That was so hurtful, Graham realised his mural was not to her taste, but 'ruined' was a bit strong. He sobbed.

She turned to Colin. "I'm so sorry"

"Don't worry, it can be repaired" Colin had seen worse damage. "But I do think we ought to leave you alone now, whilst you do the necessary." He pointed to the paddles on the wall.

Mark rose to his feet and turned towards the door.

"No, No. Please. Mark is here to see too the children. He can do the whole job."

"Well, if you're sure" Colin checked.

"Yes, please. Mark, will you spank Graham, make sure he never draws on anybody's walls again."

Mark had never actually administered a spanking. He had felt many, and witnessed more, but giving one was a new venture.

Mark walked round the bed to where Graham was frozen. He picked up the terrified toddler, and carried him to the edge of the bed. Mark sat. It felt odd sitting in a terry nappy.

Graham was wearing a white vest and pale blue t-shirt, with matching thin cotton shorts. He had open-toe sandals, again with no socks.

"Graham, look at me" Mark deposited the child onto his feet, and lifted his chin to make eye contact.

"Graham, you must not draw on the wall. You draw only on paper. If you want to draw, ask for some paper. Do you understand?"

Graham just sobbed. Mark pulled the waistband of the boy's shorts high up his body. Mark lifted Graham's hands until the boy was on tiptoe, holding the kid in his left hand by the wrists.

SLAP

Mark slapped the boy's left thigh with his right hand.

"Eeee" Graham squealed.

"Graham bad boy" Sarah said.

"You only draw on paper, do you understand?" SLAP. SLAP. SLAP Three quick blows on the little boy's right leg brought him back into consciousness.

"Yes, Yes, I do"

"Good. Let's repeat. You" SLAP "don't" SLAP "draw" SLAP "on" SLAP "the" SLAP "walls" SLAP "." SLAP

Graham, restrained by Mark's firm grip on his wrists, wriggled as the lecture proceeded. Each slap extracted a yelp, and the flow of tears was steadily increased.

Mark turned the boy round, and edged him up to the artwork. Graham's back was now to the room, and to his punisher.

"Look at it" Mark slapped Graham's right leg.

SLAP. SLAP.

"So, why are you going to be spanked?"

Graham sobbed

"Because you drew on the walls" SLAP! "Tell me why you are going to be spanked"

"I drew"

SLAP. SLAP "Where did you drew?" Mark was aware that the grammar was wrong, but thought it would make it easier for the little one.

"I drew on the wall."

"Yes" SLAP "You" SLAP "Drew" SLAP "On" SLAP "the" SLAP "wall" SLAP

By now the small boy's legs had each had over ten stinging slaps. There were two huge red patches, with numerous finger-imprints visible. Graham was almost incoherent.

Mark dragged the collapsing infant back to the bed. He sat down, and put the little boy over his knee. Graham did not resist, but had gone limp. Mark put his hands into the waist-band of the cute blue shorts, and lowered then to the little boy's ankles. Next he lowered the little boy's standard white underpants to his knees.

"You will never write on the walls again"

Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack.

Mark applied six heavy hand-blows to the centre of the tiny rump. Graham screamed and pushed his hand behind to try to save his bum.

Mark grabbed the intruder, and twisted it up the little boy's back. Now he could get to work.

Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack. The blows all landed across both buttocks, Graham's posterior was so small in relation to Mark's hand, that Mark covered it in one swipe. Still. Mark endeavoured to spread the load, working up and down the red cheeks, onto the very tops of the well-smacked legs.

"You will never draw on the walls again" Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack.

Graham was a mess of snot, tears, and saliva. There was no fight left in him. He just emitted a long continuous wail, punctuated by gasps for air.

Mark stopped, leaving the weeping boy over his knee.

"An excellent job. Well done." Mrs Wilson applauded.

"Just right, Mark. You have learned well," Colin agreed.

"Thank you, Sir." Mark was panting, sweaty from his exertions.

"Graham only needs a nappy for sleeping, but I'm sure he won't mind if you put him one on now. In fact, he'll probably go to sleep, he usually does after a good spanking."

Mark stood the snotty boy up, and wiped his face using one of the wet-wipes that Colin had offered. Then Mark slipped the boy's little blue shorts right off, and also removed the underpants.

"Graham wears a terry nappy. Like I said, they are more suitable for bigger children, particularly ones who don't poo in their nappies any more." Mrs Wilson reminded them. "Let me see if you remember how to fold it."

Mark steered the still bawling boy into a corner, and then folded the terry square.

"Spot on. Good, now let's see you fit it"

"Graham, come here please." Mark called to the still weeping infant. The babe walked slowly towards the strange schoolboy.

Mark kneeled down at the end of the changing mat, and lifted the terrified toddler onto it. He stroked the child's forehead, and kissed his brow.

"Punishment's over" Mark murmured, "Let's get you cleaned up." The babe was not relaxed.

Mark lifted the little boy's legs into the air, and rubbed cream onto the scorched skin. As he worked, he was conscious of the heat in those red buttocks, and felt a little guilty about spanking so hard.

Colin could read Mark's mind.

"Don't feel bad about his pain. "He advised. "That spanking was well deserved, and properly delivered. He has learned from it, and I bet he'll never do it again. It's better for him to get one good one, rather than five useless ones."

Mark felt better, and finished fitting the nappy. He found the pins quite challenging, but managed to get one side in."

Mrs Wilson was watching closely. She spoke up. "Before you fit the second side, pull the nappy very tight around his waist"

Mark did so, and managed to get the pin in without incident.

"Not as difficult as I had thought" He proudly announced.

"He will need plastic pants" the boy's mother passed over a pair of clear plastic pants with elasticated leg holes.

Mark worked one leg at a time into the protective garment, and then stood the little boy onto his feet to pull them up over the nappy.

"All done," he announced as he let go of the elastic waistband.

Mark admired the boy. His blue t-shirt did not cover much of the nappy, and the clear plastic displayed the white cloth quite attractively. From the side or rear, the vast expanse of white padding contrasted sharply with the red bruised legs.

Mark sat onto the bed, and swung the little boy onto his lap. Graham snuggled his head into Mark's shoulder, and gripped the schoolboy's pullover. Within a minute the spanked four-year-old was fast asleep. Mark carefully carried his delicate bundle to his cot, and laid him down.

"Well that was very useful" Colin said. "Thank you very much, Mrs Wilson. Mark, have you any last questions?"

"Can I take this nappy off now, please?"

"You can come back to have it removed at 6pm, just before we serve dinner. Now go up to your room and get your homework done."

"Yes Sir."

Mark crept out of the door, looked to see that the coast was clear, and shot up the stairs to the sanctuary of his bedroom. He pulled out his biggest pair of shorts, and squeezed into them. Although the nappy was bulky, he at least felt less exposed.

Mark knew that he dare not remove the nappy. He settled down to a page of maths puzzles that his tutor had set the day before. After a while, though, Mark became aware of a need to relieve himself.

The pain in his bladder increased. Mark was now wriggling his legs, and was quite distracted from his Maths work. A glance at the clock reminded him that there were still two hours until he was authorised to have it taken off.

Mark thought about pulling the nappy down, to get his penis out above it, and thus use the toilet. He checked, but it had been pulled too tightly at the waist.

Just then there was a knock at the door. Mrs Wilson appeared with a jug of orange juice.

"How are you getting on?" she politely asked.

"I've done most of my homework, Ma'am, but now I can't concentrate."

"Let me guess. You need to pee, but won't wet your nappy"

"Yes, Ma'am"

"I thought so. You are a silly boy. How are you going to really know if the nappy does a good job if you don't test it?"

"I feel embarrassed" Mark was frank.

"Just regard it as a part of your education." The mothe smiled. "Here, drink this."

Mark drank the glass of orange juice that had been offered.

"Now drink this." The glass was refilled.

Mark, never slow to see what was coming, drank quickly. As he drank, he made up his mind. Mark handed back the glass.

Mrs Wilson smiled. The big schoolboy before her was indulging in a personal pleasure. The relief was obvious on his face. The steam within his nappy condensed onto the clear plastic pants.

"Come and see me at 6pm" she spoke softly as she closed the door. "You'll be ready for changing by then."

Mark sat down, and thought about his hot urine within his nappy. It's not uncomfortable at all, he mused. Quite pleasant actually.

At 6pm Mark cautiously opened the door to his room. The corridor and stairs were empty. He crept down to the next landing, still no sign of life. He knocked on the Wilson's door.

"Come in." Called Mr Wilson.

Oh God. Mark thought. He went in.

"Ah, you've come to be changed, have you laddie?"

"I want the nappy off, Sir" Mark did not like the 'changed' phrase.

"My wife said you'd be down. She has gone to the park with the little ones. I'll do it for you. With three toddlers, I've changed more nappies than I care to remember"

"I only need it taking off, Sir" Mark repeated.

"Yes, alright. Lie down here, then." The young man patted the changing mat.

Mark was relieved that no comment was made about the state of his nappy. He had felt the urge to urinate twice more since that first time. Both times he seemed to pass a substantial amount of liquid, but the cloth had soaked it all up. Even so, the whole garment was by now uniformly damp, almost dripping.

"So, you are going to be taking care of my children tonight?" Mr Wilson asked as he removed the wet terry square.

"Yes Sir." Mark lay still, legs wide apart, genitals totally exposed.

"Well, be sure that no harm comes to them." The father took hold of Mark's penis, and wiped it with a wet-wipe.

"I understand, Sir"

"And be sure that they behave themselves"

"I will, Sir"

"I'm sorry about your wall. You gave Graham a very good spanking, he deserved it. If he needs another one, don't hesitate."

"Yes, Sir" Mark though it was ridiculous, lying here having this man clean him up after wearing a nappy, being told to spank his kids.

"You need to shower, boy" Mr Wilson advised. "Take this with you. You never know when you will need it again.

"Thank you, Sir." Mark slipped his shorts on, and took the wet nappy, complete with plastic pants and pins, to the shower on the landing.

After depositing the wet nappy in the laundry room Mark joined Colin in the office. As he entered the telephone was ringing.

Colin answered it. Mark listened, fascinated, to one side of the call.

"Yes, we would still be open in November"

"No, That was no problem"

"Yes, we could accommodate all 24"

"Certainly, separate rooms for the staff"

"Oh, yes, our staff would be pleased to organise evening activities"

"Yes, we could cope with any sort of behaviour"

"No, bedwetting was not a problem. We could make arrangements"

"And we would provide lunches"

Colin replaced the receiver and smiled.

"Who was that?" Mark asked.

"Could you pass me that new tawse, please Mark"?

Mark leaned over and picked up the dark brown leather, which Colin had parked on the windowsill in his office.

"Here, Sir" Mark handed it to his employer.

"Thank you. Hold out your hand"

"What? Why?"

"Because you did not use SIR when you asked who it was"

"Oh, Sir!" Mark had not realised, in his curiosity, that he had made a little slip. Now he was having to hold his hand out, at shoulder height, for a traditional English schoolboy torture, the tawse across one's fingers.

WHACK the thin strap bit deep into Mark's fingertips.

"OWW. One SIRRR, Thank you SIRRR" Mark had learned to count his punishments without having to be told. Today he spat the required word with venom, which Colin detected.

WHACK

OWW, Oww, Ouch. Two Sir, please, sir, it hurts. It hurts a lot." The tone had gone.

"That's better, now we can start the punishment. Other hand please" Mark allowed his throbbing right hand to descend. He pressed it against the hem of his grey shorts.

WHACK Colin sliced Mark's left fingers.

"OWWWWWWWW" This hurt so much, Mark was close to tears. "Three Sir."

WHACK.

"Arrgh" Tears were now rolling down the boy's cheeks. "Four Sir"

"That's enough, this time" Colin grinned. Surprising how that little strap could have such a dramatic effect, he mused.

Mark, upon hearing those words, instantly dropped his scorched hand, cupping them both under his armpits, and pressing tight with the upper arms in a vain attempt to stop the throbbing.

Colin looked at his nephew, sixteen years old, growing taller every day, but dressed as a proper schoolboy. Red pullover, grey shirt, red and yellow striped tie, grey shorts to mid-thigh, knee high grey socks with two red bands. Polished black shoes. And now in the classical English schoolboy pose, hands tucked under his armpits, tears rolling down his cheeks, and chin down on his chest.

After a few minutes, Mark had composed himself.

"Please Sir, Sorry Sir"

"Thank you. Now, we have a booking to plan for"

"Who's coming, Sir"

"The Moreton Preparatory school's football team. Under 11's and under 13's. Apparently they have progressed to the finals of some schools competition."

"Why are they coming here, Sir"?

"Well, one of the teachers had stayed here during the summer. He thought our facilities would be ideal for their boys."

"Who was he, sir?"

"Do you remember the tall thin man who stayed at the end of July?" He was with a red-haired woman"

"Mr Jackson, Oh no"

"So you do remember him"

"He spanked me in the lounge when I moved his reading glasses."

"That's the one."

"It was so embarrassing, he did it bare, and took ages. I was sore for days"

"Well, now he is returning, and this time with 24 lively boys."

"How long for, Sir"

"They have decided to combine the football trip with some geography field studies, and a bit of a history project. So they'll be here for five nights."

"Sir, When are they coming?"

"In three weeks, the week after Bonfire night."

"Did you say we have to organise some evening activities"?

"Yes, as it will be dark early, they will need to stay indoors more than the summer guests. We are going to help supervise their project writing, and organise a rota for use of the games room, bathrooms, and lounge."

"Can I do that, please Sir" Mark actually like sorting out rota's and timetables.

"Certainly, you can draw up a few ideas later, when we've got all the facts."

Colin explained about the needs of the boys. The two age groups would rise, wash, dress at different times, but would eat together. The younger ones would go to bed first, the older ones being allowed an extra half-hour of TV or quiet activities, as was the custom at their boarding school.

"There are three boys who wet the bed, and we are to put them all in the same room. They will be using incontinence clothing."

"You mean plastic sheets on the bed, Sir"

"No, nappies"

"Wow"

"Apparently it is the school policy. The matron objects to plastic sheets as the bedding invariably gets wet, and fungus grows. With nappies she can boil the cloth and sterilise it."

"Cloth. They don't use disposable nappies."

"That's right. Cloth is used, as disposables are not readily available in the necessary sizes. The boys are quite used to it"

"I suppose so, they must be well practised at putting their nappies on."

"Oh, no. They are not allowed to handle the cloth. They want one of us to see to it. In fact, Mr Jackson particularly asked if you could see to it for them."

"Why can't he do it?"

"School rules. The teaching staff are not allowed to touch the boys nether regions. There have been too many cases of abuse in the past."

"So they don't get spanked on their bare bottoms, like I did"

"That's right. The boys are only punished with their shorts up."

"That's not fair, Sir. He murdered me."

"You deserved it. There is a bonus for you though, as 'matron' you would be allowed to spank the boys, on the bare bottom."

"Cool"

"Not for the bare bottom" Colin laughed.


More stories by Paul Crewe