The Mary and Daphne Series #9 (Patreon)

Scene #9

I took the day off, and I’m damn glad I did. I just needed a day. I woke up when Mary got up, went back to bed when she left, went for a trail run, came home and spent a little time with myself doing, well, you know. Then, because I really am adult, despite Mary’s insistence on calling me …

“Oh, little girl,” Mary sang from the kitchen. “Bring your naughty buns into the kitchen.” Crap. What did I do now? She just got home!

“Coming.” I hopped off the couch and walked to the kitchen, trying to look sexy to distract her from whatever she was grumpy about. She telegraphs it every time she calls me ‘little girl,’ which I’m not. Okay? Not. It says so right on my driver’s license.

I walked right into the kitchen and got a look from Mary that was part amused and part sympathetic. “What happened to your pants?”

I looked down at my bare legs and undies. Not the little girl undies she makes me wear when I’m in trouble or one of those stupid pullups she makes me wear, well, I haven’t figured out why she makes me wear them or when. And not to toot my own horn, but I look pretty damn in good in the underwear I had on, so I shot back, “Nothing. What’s wrong with your pants?”

Mary took a deep breath and cocked her head to the side, smiling at me. “Thank you for cleaning the kitchen, bratty buns.” What could I have done in the minute she’d been home? “Anyway, I thought I’d get a glass of water, and seeing that the dishwasher was clean …”

Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Want to tell me what I found,” she ased me.

“Clean dishes that make up for anything else you found in there,” I ventured.

“Maybe try again.”

“And clean silver ware?”

She opened the dishwasher and pulled out the top tray.

“At least I cleaned it.” I just forgot to put it back before Mary found out I borrowed it.

“What’s the rule about my toys,” she asked me.

“Ask before you borrow,” I huffed. “I didn’t think you’d find out.”

“I wouldn’t have if you’d emptied the dishwasher, but that’s not really the point, is it?”

“I’ll put it away.”

“Of course you will, little one …”

I stamped my foot and whined, “You know I hate that!”

“Putting things away,” Mary innocently asked. “Is that why you didn’t put this away,” she said as she waved it at me. I snatched it from her and started to walk back to our bedroom, with, maybe, if you wanted to see it that, a little too much stomp in my step. I wasn’t any more irritated with her calling me that than I normally am. I was more upset with myself for having made such a stupid mistake. But if anyone is really to blame, it’s Netflix for making it so easy to binge watch Friends and distracting me from hiding my misdeed. Which was totally worth it, twice over.

“And then wait in the corner for me,” Mary called out after me.

“Arrggh,” I responded.

“And watch that attitude!”

Oh, bite me. But I had the good sense to keep that to myself. I put the toy away and put myself in the corner. Mary doesn’t make me do anything silly like put my hands behind my back or on my head, but she did, the day we moved in, have me stencil “Daphne’s Naughty Spot” on the wall. If you ignore what it says, the calligraphy is kinda pretty. It’s purple. I did get to pick the color myself at least.

So I stood there with my hands at my side and waited. And waited. And finally Mary came in, marched right up to me, and gave me one smack on my rear. I kept my eyes straight ahead. Those are the rules for naughty spot time: look nowhere else but the corner. Mary says I’m like the Night’s Watch from Game of Thrones, only instead of being The Watcher On the Wall, I’m a watcher of the wall. She was quite delighted with herself when she came up with that. That she was so pleased with herself, I found endearing. She’s such a nerd sometimes. I listened to her change her clothes.

She crossed the room and took me by my upper arm, and she led me over to her night stand. She opened the drawer, and said, “What a good job putting away!” Then she sat down on the bed and took my hands in hers. “Did you have a nice day off?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do?”

“I went for a run.”

“It shows,” she said as she pinched my tummy, “you’re such a fit little thing.” I blushed. Mary likes reminding me of our size difference. She’s in shape, too, but she has a sturdier build and is six inches taller. “What did you do when you home?”

“You know,” I blushed.

“And you borrowed my toy to do it.”

“Mhmm,” I nodded and looked down. She lifted my chin gently with her hand.

“Without asking.” I nodded. “You know the rule. What were you thinking?”

Well, when you’re already in trouble, you might as well tell the truth, right? “That I wanted to anyway.”

“Well, breaking rules needs to be punished.” 

God, why can’t you just toss me over her knee and get on with it? I mean, that’s why we have some of these silly rules. To remind me who is in charge, like I could ever forget since it was my idea. But the belittling little scoldings. I don’t what that triggers in me, but it just gets to me.

“I’m sorry,” I said. Because I did break a rule, and part of the way Mary shows she loves me is by setting boundaries, and part of the way I show I love Mary is abiding by them, and then submitting to punishments when I don’t. So she made me feel a little guilty. But just a little.

“You could have waited until I got home, and then we could’ve played with it together. Now I have to punish you instead.”

I nodded.

“I’d rather play with you then punish you.” Oh, you are such a fibber! It was probably more like 50/50. Maybe 60/40.

But instead of calling her on that fib, I moved my arms out of the way, and she accepted the invitation to lower my panties. I wish I had been wearing pants.

“Over you go, little girl.” Insult met injury as her hand smacked my bottom. That first smack always take a second to register. The second one and sometimes the third have landed by the time you realize you’ve been spanked the once. And you can feel your butt wobble and your body gets pushed ever so slightly forward and recoil back.

Ten. Twenty. And now it hurts, and your instinct is to get up, and you resist that, partly because you know better – you take the spanking you’ve earned or even the one you haven’t because she said, and she’s in charge. And partly because you like it. The warmth radiating out from your butt all over that part of you, inside your thighs and everywhere else.

That’s how I knew that I didn’t feel too guilty for what I did and that Mary’s lecture didn’t get too deep under my skin, because I’m thinking about that and not my misdeed or the little fire she’s setting on top my bottom. And Mary knows that, too, because thirty, and she pauses and runs her fingernails over my pink cheeks, and instead of wincing I shudder at her touch.

“Up you get,” Mary said to me and helped me to my feet. “Go get your paddle.” Oh, crap! 

“But …”

“The only butt that matters right now is the one that still needs to be spanked,” she shot back and landed a big smack on my butt as she turned me sideways. I hope that hurt your hand!

I kicked my panties off and walked around to my side of the bed where the paddle is ever present on my night stand. It’s small, tear drop shaped, and made of some hard wood. I don’t know wood, but I know it has to be hard wood because it’s so dense and heavy. She doesn’t need to apply much force with it if she doesn’t want to, but when she does, hear me wail. I walk back around the bed, and it feels like a trek to the principal’s office, but worse, because I never got sent to the principal’s office and because if I had, there wouldn’t have been a butt blistering waiting for me when I got there.

May held out her hand as I stood in front of her, and I placed that paddle in her palm. She took it and wagged it under my nose, lecturing, “If you’re not feeling repentant yet, then clearly you need to be spanked with this. Isn’t that what you need?”

“Yes,” I said weakly, knowing that silence was not an option. Or it was, but Mary would make me wish I had answered with one swing of that paddle. But what’s one more? What Raphael the painter was to a paintbrush and Raphael the ninja turtle is to those little knife thingies, my loving wife is to that tear drop shaped weapon of correction, another cute phrase she trots out from time to time, especially when showing off for our friends.

Mary turned me sideways and held my left arm out of the way and WHAP!

Motherfucker, I wanted to say, but instead what came out was, “Eheh, eheh, waaaah.”

“Crying after one swat? Tsk tsk tsk. Just like a little girl” Well, it fucking hurt! She swung it like a freakin’ tennis racket! “C’mon, little girl, back over.” Except this time instead of guiding me over her knees she pulled me down so I was bent over the bed with her left arm under my tummy, her hand coming up on my other side and gently keeping me in place, tight to her hip.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

Which I answered with more tears and sobbing even though each one of those was about half of that first one, but she’d opened the floodgates, and did I mention that thing freakin’ hurts. I mean, I’m just a bitty thing! She just said so!

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

“Mary! Please! I won’t borrow it again!”

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

“I know you won’t, because you’ll (WHAP!) remember (WHAP!) this (WHAP!) spanking (WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!)

“Ahhhhheeee.” And then I said some more stuff that was unintelligible even to me, but Mary knows what I meant. She’s my person. She’s fluent in Daphne Bawling While Getting a Spanking. We could’ve exchanged vows in that language, but I didn’t want to give my grandma a stroke.

“Five more,” she said to me as she leaned down and brushed the hair out of my face.

WHAP! She left it there and let it sink in. WHAP! Same. WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

I sobbed into our bedspread (I made the bed, too! Do I get no credit for that!?!), and this time I did wince when her fingernails touched by butt. It was swollen, I could feel that from the way her fingers felt, and I knew I must have been a dark red. I’d have a bruise shortly, visible, something to look at and enjoy every time I sat down for a few days. Mary won’t paddle a bruised butt (‘cause she loves me. sigh, flutter, melt…), but she’ll spank one. That gave me a few days to be naughty while keeping the consequences to a minimum. 

But at the moment, I was just thinking about Mary’s hand, so gentle and soft finding its way from my butt to my back, and into my hair as she bent down and kissed my temple and my ear and my the back of my neck. I sighed as my tears dried up and felt myself sink lower into the bed.

“Roll over,” she whispered to me. I did, and I looked at her, and she had one of her devious smiles, the kind that says we’re both about to enjoy what she’s going to do but that she’s going to enjoy it more. She turned me so my feet were right next to her and my were legs drawn up (I love that she can toss me around).

“Spread your knees,” she said. I did, and she liked what she saw. She picked the paddle back up, reversed it, and I bit my lip and closed my eyes, knowing what was coming.

She brought that paddle down gently on my … TAP. Oh, the very best part of same-sex relationships is your partner knows where everything is. TAP. She had me squirming in a whole different way than when she was spanking my ass. TAP. TAP. TAP. I was already limp at the end of my spanking, and I was a puddle when she was done with my other spanking.

“Ok, all done,” Mary announced.

Wait, what? Did she not know that I was in no condition to even get up off the bed? 

“Um, Mary?”

“Yeah,” she said as she stood up.

“Aren’t we …”

“Gonna go to dinner? Sure we are.”

“But …” Oh, she is such a meanie sometimes!

“And,” she said, drawing out the word. I was expecting her to say ice cream. “We’ll go to the Toy Chest.”

I sat right up. “Really?”

“Yeah. For doing such a good job cleaning the kitchen, I think we’ll go get you one of your very own so you won’t be tempted to take mine.”

Everybody loves new toys! “Oh, thank you thank you thank you!” I was on my feet and hugging the woman who just beat my butt like it stole something (but I only borrowed it, teeheeJ).

“But,” she warned me, “if you misbehave in the toy store, like little girls sometimes do, we may have to cut our trip short.”

“I promise I’ll be good.” Everybody gets carried away in the toy store; was she ever gonna let me live that one time down? She turned and started to put on shoes.

“Go put on a pullup,” she said to me.

“Why,” I whined. “I learned my lesson.” 

She straightened up and sauntered back toward me, that glare of hers gluing my feet to the floor. “Little girl, do you need another reminder of who’s in charge?”

“No,” I squeaked, remembering how much my butt was throbbing right then. It wouldn’t have been the first time I got two spankings in a half hour, each one just as severe as the other.

“Then scoot,” she said as she tapped my butt again. I scurried to my closet to get one of those stupid things.

“And thanks for making the bed,” she called after me.

She noticed! Sigh …