The Mary and Daphne Series - Scene #5 (Patreon)

Scene #5

Our honeymoon was ... interesting. We were at a resort in Florida, and we’d been out on the beach since just after breakfast. I’m more of a water person, while Mary is more of a sun person. She tucked into a book, and I got onto a raft with a mimosa in hand and Mary’s explicit instruction not to go too far out. She worries about me, and I get it. I’m a better swimmer than she is, and left to my own, I’ll go out further than she will.

Well, I fell asleep on the raft. Not for long. Maybe just five minutes. But enough to get pulled out to where even I didn’t want to be. I wasn’t in danger - there was a sandbar out there that I bumped against - that’s what woke me up - so I was only in ankle deep water, but I was on the wrong side of the breakers and had a long swim. I stood up and saw Mary waving. Not in a happy how’s-it-going-out-there way. More of a get-your-ass-back-here wave.

It was an effort, and it was tiring. Hard enough to swim against the current, but to do it on a raft is just a pain in the butt. I considered abandoning the thing but started to think of it as a flotation device. When I got to where Mary could stand, she came out and towed me the rest of the way. I was pretty pooped.

“What on earth were you thinking,” she asked as she toweled me off in front of our chairs.

“It was an accident. I fell asleep.”

“You scared me!” She put the towel down and wrapped her arms around me. “Do you hear me? You scared me.” The look in her eyes was so sweet, so earnest, so caring. I sighed, feeling inconsiderate and guilty.

“I’m sorry.” Sometimes I have sad puppy dog eyes without meaning to, like right then. I thought of her scared, and it made me sad. Then I thought of the vows we’d just taken, and it made me feel guilty. Hence the sad I’m-sorry-I-peed-on-the-rug-please-don’t-stop-loving-me puppy dog eyes. She hugged me again and gave me a kiss before parting.

“I know you are, but …”

“But you don’t have to,” I whined. Like I didn’t know what she was going to say next. “I know I did wrong. I’m sorry.” What’s the point of spanking when the person about to be spanked already knows what they shouldn’t have done and promised not to do it again? I’ve thought about this philosophical question a lot while over Mary’s knee, sometimes for things I’ve been spanked for before, but I had my reasons so those don’t count and …

“Little girl …”

“Urgh!”

“Okay,” she said oh so condescendingly, “Little Miss Bratty Buns, then, you know the rule.” She sat back with a very satisfied look on her face. “In fact, you tell me the rule.”

“One strike,” I grumbled.

“That’s right. No warnings, no two strikes, no three strikes.”

“Can we at least wait until later? It’s nice out and I don’t wanna miss it.”

“Funny. I was thinking the same thing.”

“Nooo!”

“Mhmm.”

“Not out here!”

“Mhmm,” she said more slowly still, nodding her head as she did.

“We’ll get thrown out!”

“Here we’ll get thrown out. But behind those dunes we should be alone.”

They weren’t that far from the bathing area. “People could walk back there!”

“And you could have gotten caught in a riptide, so be grateful the only thing I’m going to rip into is your bottom!” She reached out and gave me a swat that mostly caught the outside of my thigh. I gasped as my hands went to my butt and I looked around at who might have seen. “But I’m willing to bet the manager would see things my way once I explained it all, so start marching or I’ll just drop your bottoms right here.”

“Humph!”

“Pouting isn’t gonna help,” Mary said as she took my upper arm, turned me sideways, and gave me a spank on each butt cheek. I wanted the sand to swallow me as I made eye contact with a woman about my age, or maybe a little younger, just a few chairs over. Mary’s hand was poised on the air. “Well?”

“I’ll go!” I tried to pull away and start walking away from there as fast as I could, but Mary held on.

“Okay, then.” I kept my eyes down but could feel that woman staring at us as we walked right by her. Swat Smack Spank! “And you can drop the sass right now!”

Mary loves to spank-march me on the way to wherever I’m to be punished. On the way to the corner. On the way back from the corner. On the way to the bedroom. On the way to the kitchen. On the way to the back porch. On the way to the car, dressing room, lady’s room. I think you get the picture. Once we were behind the line of chairs and a little ways away from people, I got swatted every step of the way. Mary kept a firm grip on my arm as I twisted left and right trying and failing to move my butt out of her reach.

“You naughty (smack) little (swat) girl (smack)! I specifically told you (spank) not (spank) to (spank) go (spank) too (SPANK) far (SPANK)!” It was like an exercise to see how far fifty yards can be made to feel, and the whole time I was doing my best to dodge while not struggling so much that we attracted any attention. And I don’t know if we attracted attention or not. I was dead set on keeping my eyes to the front to at least not see if anybody saw.

“Can you – ow! – at least wait – ouch! – until I’m over your – ow! – knee,” I growled.

“Oh, don’t you worry, little girl. I won’t run out (smack smack smack).”

We ignored the sign that said “No walking on the dunes” and Mary immediately sat down as soon as we were out of sight, tugging me down with her and right over her outstretched legs.

She sighed and put her hand on my back, rubbing it a little. “Do you have any idea how scary it was watching you struggle to get back and knowing I couldn’t help you?” And cue my weeping. Well, I thought, now you really feel like an inconsiderate shit.

“I’m sorry.”

“And I’m sorry I need to do this, but it’s for both our sake’s.”

I nodded and turned by weepy eyes forward, folding my arms under my chin. Mary wasted no time in spanking my butt full force. No warm up. My cheeks wobbled under her assault and went from white to pink almost instantly. Instead of pulling my bottoms down, she stopped and pulled them up between my cheeks and kept going.

I buried my head in my arms and cried. I kept picturing Mary panicking as I got too tired and drifted back to the sand bar. It didn’t happen, but it conceivably could have. I’d have been fine, but that wasn’t the point. The point was how awful I’d have made her feel. I didn’t struggle or squirm or move my legs. I laid there and let Mary take out her frustrations and anxiety and fear on my ass, teaching me a lesson in the process because she loved me and I loved her and because, ultimately, I wanted and needed this. Sure, it was an accident, but an irresponsible one. I’d been inconsiderate, and now I was paying through my bare bottom, which if nothing else would expiate the guilt.

The spanking stopped, and Mary moved, and then the spanking started again with a thwock sound. A flip flop on a pair of naked buns tends to make that sound. I wanted to plead. I wanted to say I was sorry and had learned my lesson. I wanted to say stop. I didn’t.

At last, Mary was done. I scrambled up and put my arms around her neck.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” I cried.

“Shh,” she cooed while stroking my hair and kissing my neck. “All is forgiven. You misbehaved, got spanked, and now it’s over.”

I sobbed in response. That was why I loved her. That was why I wanted her – not someone else, her – to be the woman who disciplines me. That was why I’d married her, among many other reasons. She makes me feel, I don’t know how to say it, accepted. Even when I’m naughty.

“You’re my good girl again,” she said as she kissed my forehead when I’d calmed down. We stood up together, and I straightened out my suit. She took a peek at me from the side. “Yep, you are showing off a well-spanked bottom there.” 

“Oh my god, I have to walk past all those people like this!” She put an arm around me, and we started walking back like that, with me leaning on her. 

“If they knew you, they’d understand it’s just something you need from time to time. Like twice a week or so.”

“Can I go put upstairs and put on my suit with the skirt?”

“Actually,” my wife said with a voice full of mirth, “I took that out of your bag before we left.”

“What? Why,” I whined.

“So you couldn’t hide this butt,” she said as she squeezed it hard.

“You are so mean!” SMACK! Sigh, melt, love.

“Too late now.” That same woman was apparently waiting for us and dropped her jaw when we walked past. Mary is my defender in all things, and I think she especially likes that role when it embarrasses the ever loving shit out of me. “She needed a spanking, and you do, too, if you can’t mind your own business.”

I’m not often a speechless person, but I had nothing to say to that – to either of them – in response.