"You should have told me you were a bedwetter," she said, exasperated. "In all my time doing this, I've never had someone your age wet her bed, definitely not on the first night. That's certainly going to make the later stages of your punishment a little more difficult. And the way you've been acting, I have no doubt you'll be making it to those stages."
"No!" I protested again, hardly hearding anything past her first sentence, the shame of that implication hitting me like a slap to the face. "I'm not a bedwetter! I just..." I shook my head, remembering what I was doing. "You have to go downstairs! The real Holly is there!"
"And I suppose its her fault you peed your pants, is it?" she raised an eyebrow.
"Umm... Yes..." I said, looking down, cheeks flushing. Even knowing it wasn't a lie, her expression made me realize how much it sounded like one. "You have to believe me," I begged.
"You?" The woman chuckled. "You've been trying to feed me that ridiculous story since you got home, you've been acting up almost constantly, you got me out of bed twice in one night, and you wet your own bed like a toddler. And you think you deserve to have this latest little tale of yours believed? I think it's more likely that, deep down, you're just a scared little girl, too afraid to take responsibility for her own actions. Which is why I'm here."
"I didn't," I protested, horrified to feel warm tears starting to flow from my eyes. I was angry at her for not believing me, but her words made me feel too small and helpless to do much about it, as if her merely saying them somehow made them true. "Please, I'm not a bedwetter, I just..."
She shook her head. "The more you deny it, the further back it makes me think you need to be taken. You weren't responsible enough to tell me about it in the first place, and now you aren't responsible enough to admit to it. Do you really think this is how a grown up acts?"
I didn't have an answer for that, or, rather, I didn't have one that she would actually listen to. I shrugged listlessly, as it slowly dawned on me that not only had I landed myself in trouble, but the nanny was so sure I was lying there was almost no chance she was going to try to catch Holly. I'm sure she'd heard us by now, but what did that matter? That just meant she knew the nanny had her hands full with me, so she could safely continue her search. And eventually she'd find the keys and high tail it out of here, while I was stuck there like Cassandra, trying to get her caught to someone who was sure I was a liar.
Seeing that she wasn't getting any more of a response from me, as I was too busy sulking and feeling sorry for myself, she began tossing my pillows and stuffed animals to the floor, peeling back blankets and examining them for a moment before deciding they could join the growing pile, too. Finally, she unhooked the corners of the fitted sheet and gathered it up, with in the center, lifting the bundle and carrying it across the hall and into the bathroom.
She set me down on the toilet, the hard surface beneath me sending a fresh torrent of wetness into the sheets wrapped all around me now, as I struggled to untangle myself from them. The nanny started to run the water in the bathtub, testing it with her fingertips, and I had a sudden renewal of hope. If she took my wet things to the laundry room, which I was sure had to be downstairs somewhere, while I was getting cleaned up, then maybe she'd run into Holly after all.
In the interest of hurrying that along, as soon as I managed to get away from the sheets, I started to get undressed, though all I could really do on that front was take off the nightshirt and wait obediently behind her, watching as she filled the tub. I had hoped for a shower instead, but it would do.
When she finally decided the water was deep enough, she turned back to me. "I'm going to go get the key to those," she told me, nodding to the plastic panties. "And you are going to stay right here. You're getting a spanking tonight, young lady, but if you try to run off, you'll be getting it before your bath rather than after... If not both. It really would be best not to test me right now."
My heart began to beat faster at the threat - no, the promise, this time - of a spanking, and even knowing I had one final chance to avoid it, the prospect was rather frightening. I looked over at the door as she shut it behind her, biting my bottom lip as I weighed my options. I wasn't sure where her room was, though it couldn't be far, considering how quick she could get to my - no, Holly's - room. If I could catch Holly now, it was ensure the safety of my bottom... But what if she was gone already? Or hiding somewhere I couldn't find her before the nanny found me? Or what if I was too slow, and the nanny caught me before I even made it down the stairs?
Before I could decide whether or not the risk was worth it, she was back, turning me around and unlocking the plastic pants. The cool air against my skin was a blessed relief as she carefully slid them down my legs, trying to keep what little urine remained in them from spilling out until I had stepped out of them, and she'd swept the wet sheets off of the toilet so she could empty them inside.
"When you take those to the laundry room," I said quietly, wanting to leave nothing to chance now that I knew what was on the line, "could you please just look in the living room? Just for a second? And if there's nobody there, I'll shut up about it, I swear."
She raised an eyebrow as she stared down at me, somehow making me feel even more naked. "You're the one who had an accident on these sheets," she informed me, as if I didn't know. "You're the one who's going to be washing them, not me."
"Oh," I blushed. "Well... Umm... Could you just go look anyway, while I'm taking my bath?"
"I'm not going anywhere, young lady. After all the 'maturity' you've displayed today, I don't even know if I can trust you know how to clean yourself properly. So why don't you show me how it's done?"
I had, of course, been washing myself for years, and as far as I knew there had never been any problems with how I did it. Still, it had been almost as long since I'd had to do so in a bath, rather than a shower, much less with an audience. The woman had already seen me naked, more than once, and I was a little scared at how desensitized I was growing to that, but actually having to take a bath with her watching me like a hawk was something else entirely. For a few seconds, I could just stand there, hardly able to believe it, until she started to move towards me.
Scared, and not thinking, I stepped into the tub, only getting one foot in before I felt myself being picked up again and set back down. "You're not off to a very good start," she told me, stepping in front of me and reaching into the tub for a washcloth, snatching it from the bar it was hung over and dipping it into the water. She lathered it up with a bar of soap, then turned to me, running the cloth up my legs and between them. "You're not going to get very clean if you're sitting in your own pee," she said, rinsing off the washcloth in the sink before wiping most of the suds away and stepping back. "Go on, then," she said after another moment.
I walked over to the sink where she'd left the washcloth and rinsed it off again, then took it with me to the tub, stepping in and gently lowering myself in. The water was much warmer than I would have made it, but I kept my complaints to myself. I draped the cloth back over its bar and picked up the bar of soap rubbing it over the parts of my body the nanny hadn't already gotten to.
"This isn't a race," she said. "Are you looking forward to your spanking that much?"
I blushed, both for the critique and the insinuation. Really, I just wanted to get done so we would stand a chance of running across Holly, but I couldn't very well say that. I slowed myself down as much as I dared, then grabbed the washcloth and ran it over my skin. Satisfied, I stood up, reaching for a towel.
Instead, the nanny walked back over and pushed me back into the water. "You need to scrub a little harder than that," she told me. "And that's three strikes. Since you can't do it yourself, I'll just have to take over." Ignoring my protests, she grabbed a stool from the cabinet under the sink - she must have brought that herself, since I didn't reconize it - along with a bottle of body wash and a large white mitten.
"No, I can do it," I said, not quite sure if my pride was hurt more by the idea of being bathed by another woman, or that she didn't think I was capable of doing it myself. "Just give me another chance!"
"It isn't a race, but I don't want to be at this all night, either." She sat down on the stool and slipped the mitt onto her hand, letting me see that while one side was soft white fabric, the other was a rough looking light brown. She dipped it into the bath and squeezed body wash onto it, working up a lather before starting to scrub me. And I do mean scrub. I tried to wriggle away from her. I wouldn't say the mitt hurt, exactly, but the texture was far from that of the washcloth, and even further from the soft body puff I normally used, and her relentless use of it made me feel as if she were trying to scrape off my skin.
I tried feebly to push her hand away as she rubbed the horrid thing over my chest, the action about the furthest it was possible to get from sexy, making it all the more humiliating when I felt a faint sense of arousal simply from the contact. It seemed to go on for far longer than she had spent on the rest of my body, though I'm sure it was just my imagination, since her expression stayed the same when she moved down to my tummy, which made me wriggle all the more, as I was rather ticklish there.
"Up," she ordered, before continuing the treatment on my lower half. "You barely even touched your legs," she lectured as she corrected my mistake. "A little wash to get your urine off of them is hardly all they need."
Finally, she pulled the drain, letting the water drain out as she removed the mitt and grabbed the shower head instead, tugging it down from its hook and holding it over me, rinsing me off. I half expected to see bloody scrapes across my body, but instead my skin looked pink and fresh. I didn't even bother trying to cover myself... Not only had she shaved my pubic hair, she'd now washed every inch of me, it felt like, so the whole idea of modesty seemed pointless. I didn't protest when she started to dry me, either, wrapping me in a large, fluffy, pink towel and patting me dry.
She hung the towel back up, then re-gathered my sheets, folding them so the wettest parts were in the middle before handing them to me. She waited a minute before sighing and saying, "You can't wait around forever."
"Well, I... I don't know where the laundry room is," I told her, honestly.
"I'm getting sick of your games," she sighed. "I wouldn't be surprised if you still make your mother do your laundry, but I'm sure she didn't take your dirty clothes there for you all the time, too."
"I don't live here," I reminded her. "I don't..."
"Holly. I am sick and tired of hearing that lie. Now, you are going to lead me to the laundry room, and you are going to put those in the washer - I'll be there to make sure you don't mess anything up, in case you really don't have any idea what you're doing. Then you're getting a spanking. And for every minute you waste, you'll be getting an extra ten spanks. Now get moving."