Mary and Daphne #23 (Patreon)

I was such a good girl. Multiple, trustworthy parties attest to this. For a whole two weeks, I did virtually nothing wrong. Certainly nothing spankable, and that’s impressive because I’m a very spankable woman. Even more people attest to that.

It wasn’t easy, either, after Mary and I had that little talk. We were both feeling around for what “slowing down” meant as far as the ageplay stuff went. Mary lifted her decree that I wear a pull-up when she was at work but did not lift the provision that if I was wearing one, I had to use it before it could come off. In two weeks, she decided to I needed to wear one maybe five times.

I tried to point out that the things weren’t cheap and so she should consider carefully whether I deserved one, but then she reminded me that was why she insisted I use them when I did wear them and asked if I wanted to use them even more. I was getting away with tinkling in them just a little and then taking them off. I wanted to keep it that way, so her question shut me the hell up.

Nana will tell you I was good, too. Mary still “dropped me off” there a couple days a week, but Nana and I found ourselves enjoying each other’s company almost every day of the week. She was teaching me about gardening, and I was teaching her about how to use her phone.

But two weeks is an awfully long time to be perfectly good, and no one is perfect, and I won’t be held to impossible standards. I reserve the right to grump, whine, be occasionally bratty, inconsiderate, and even testy. But I wasn’t any of those things much at all.

Mary says sometimes she can see a dark cloud forming over my head. Of course, Mary says a lot of things, but she says she can see it happening right in front of her when I’m on my way to trouble, and that’s when she says she can smell a spanking coming like people can smell rain.

And she told me so around day twelve of my spank-free streak (not including an odd smack or two here or there; if those count as spankings, I don’t think there’s been a day in five years I didn’t collect a spanking for some reason or other, maybe only half In chastisement), she told me she could smell a spanking coming on the wind.

It’s a problem sometimes that I can behave well enough to not do anything to earn a spanking, but over a long enough period, the tiny things accumulate, and then in Mary’s mind it’s suddenly a big, overdue deal. That’s when Mary says stuff like, “I see rainclouds,” as a warning.

And now I write that down, if I’m too sarcastic sometimes, what does that make Mary? Patronizing and too cute by half; that’s what.

From my point of view, I don’t see rainclouds. I hear thunder that sounds remarkably like a paddle. And sometimes I do need rain. I am a delicate flower, after all. We need to get watered. And sometimes Mary needs to thunder.

And I bring all this up because, again, third parties will testify under oaththat I was remarkably well behaved even without curving the grade. I was earning a B+ in deportment, an A- in sharing, an A in putting away, and at least a B+ in sociability.

Bear all that in mind before you pick sides, because accounts differ on exactly why what just happened happened. I was in my lavender silk pajamas watching TV at 7:30 in the evening. According to Mary, I was watching TV in my pajamas at 7:30. So you can see how open to interpretation the instigating transgression was.

She’d worked late. I called out, “Hi,” when I heard her come in. I heard her purse hit the floor. That’s never a signal she had a good day, when she just drops it by the door. We have a hook thingy. God forbid I don’t use the hook thingy because that would just be verboten. She walked through the kitchen and into the living room looking tired. “Rough day,” I asked. I’m pretty sure I could see a little dark cloud over her head. I was in jammies and had chocolate and Mary had just gotten home; sunshine and butterflies were above my head.

“Is that the last truffle,” she asked me. More specifically, it was the last half of a truffle.

“Yeah,” I said with my mouth full. “You want the rest?” I was more than happy to share. I’m good at sharing! I have twenty-five-year-old report cards with a smiley face in the box next to Sharing. “Daphne is a good sharer,” said a preschool teacher, and they are sharing experts!

“Why are you dressed for bed already?”

This seemed like a trick question. I have maintained a strong A in recognizing trick questions since around Grade 2 of Mary’s Finishing School for Daphne. Still, I don’t think I’ll ever graduate to the third grade. So I told the truth, which I had no reason not to, and said, “I took a bath.” I love baths. Who doesn’t love baths? I had my hot water, my bubbles, and a glass of wine.

“In the middle of the day?”

Okay, so many questions from someone who hasn’t even sat down yet. “No, at six when you texted me you’d be late.”

“Did you make dinner?”

“I had leftovers. We have most of the chicken I made Monday. I can fix you a plate while you go change,” I offered very nicely and started to get up.

“We need to talk about that tone you’re using and your general backchat for the past two weeks,” she said as she sighed as though she had let something go for too long. “You need a spanking.”

“For what? I just offered to make you dinner,” I asked a little indignantly.

“You’ve been grumpy and a little inconsiderate, and we’re just going to nip it in the bud before it gets any worse.”

“Because I didn’t make dinner?”

“Because you’ve been living the life of Riley while I’ve been slaving at the office. Did you think of waiting for me? I like baths. I like chocolate.”

Who the fuck is Riley and why am I being compared to her all of a sudden? And why can’t I live her life? Is it too good for the likes of me? I have class, dammit!

“And,” Mary continued, “you’ve been getting brattier and brattier. I warned you on Monday. You just can’t go two whole weeks without getting spanked. It puts you all out of sorts. Come on; stand up.”

Reverse psychology? Is that what was happening? My sorts were arranged just fine. There’s definitely something to what Mary said about me ending up in dire need of a punishment spanking if I go too long without one, but I was not there yet. No way. Clearly, Mary had a bad day and needed to spank something. That is a perfectly acceptable reason for giving a spanking in a domestic discipline marriage. I’d have been fine to offer my butt as sacrifice. They’ve been sacrificing asses to assuage unreasonable gods since biblical times, literally. I just didn’t like the pretense that I’d done something to deserve it.

“I am not out of sorts,” I said as I stood up and started toward the stairs, anticipating I’d get my much undeserved spanking in the bedroom. I didn’t like it, but I agreed to get spanked whenever Mary decides, so I would obey even if I protested a little. “You’re out of sorts.”

This whole living room was out of sorts! (Not really. I cleaned it during the day.)

“See, right there with the talking back. You just forget how to make good choices if I let it go too long.” She grabbed me by the upper arm gently before I got past her. “Over here, little girl.”

“I am not a little girl,” I whined. I guess that’s just a reflex now, like saying ‘huh?’ when someone says your name. Her response was to plant a foot on the edge of the coffee table. “I hate that position!” Just completely dangling there.

“You’re not supposed to like a punishment,” she said as she helped me over her knee. Freaking balancing act: too far forward and you face plant; too far back and you get accused of trying to escape. Do you know how many years get tacked onto a prison sentence for trying to escape? Murderers would gladly serve twice as many years than face my Mary. She got a firm grip on me so I wouldn’t fall off.

Silk pajamas (Mary got them for me. They’re my favorite) offer pretty much zero protection from a spanking. I don’t know what kind of day she had exactly, either, because she was spanking faster than I’m typing, and she wasn’t being delicate or precise about it either. I guess my hot bath counted as my warmup.

“Ow ow ow ow! Could you OW!”

“No I cannot!”

“I didn’t ow ow even ow ask ugh ugh! That hurt!”

There really is something about receiving a spanking that clears the mind of all previous knowledge, including a fact that Mary, like all spankers, never forgets even when I do: “It’s supposed to hurt!” O, yeah, now she tells me.

Changing tactics, I sniffled. I went, “Uummm,” and sniffled again.

“O don’t you dare try crocodile tears with me!”

Girl’s gotta try, amiright? In the language of Daphne getting a spanking, that’s pronounced, “Urrgh!” You gotta get real frustration into it, from the back of the throat. Daphne-Being-Spanked is a tonal language, like Chinese.

“See? All that attitude.” The other thing about silk jammies is that they practically fly off your legs. I’ve always been secretly impressed by Mary’s ability to yank those down with me over her knee without tearing them. “You needed this. I should have done it! A week! Ago!” I broke left, she spanked right. I broke right, she spanked everywhere. “Stop! Squirming!” She paused. “Do you wanna get the paddle, too?”

“No.”

“Then hold! Still! Like a! Good! Little! Girl!!”

People can talk about the physics of every spanking position, but unless they’ve been fulcrumed over a single knee with their hands and feet in the air, they don’t know as much as they think. Thighs easily in reach and unflexed, butt presented in its most undefended way with cheeks wobbling and sit spots the most they’ll ever be exposed. Your average spanker just things of where to spank, but Mary knows with this particular position she has lots of angles, too, including the one I – Ow! – hate most: the upward swing connecting where my cheeks meets my thighs so the hand connects with the fleshiest part of my butt and sorta lifts it. You can’t even – Ow! – clench.

“Ow! Ow! Mary! I’m sorry. OW! I’ll be more considerate. Ow!”

“I know you will. I’m helping you to remember. You won’t talk back! Or whine! Or brat! And you will! Remember! To think! Of! Me!”

Maybe my parents are to blame for instilling in me an overly strong guilt reflex. I think of Mary in almost everything, and she knows that. She just had a bad day. I guess when she said she’d be late I should’ve maybe made some dinner for her or waited to take a bath with her, but it’s a marriage, not a slave/mistress thingy (not that there’s anything wrong with that; far be it from me to kink shame). I didn’t do anything wrong so much as I didn’t do anything extra. But still, what she said made me sniffle for realzies.

I gave up verbalizing and squirming and just let her finish what had to have been at least an eight-minute wonder of a spanking, and then she stopped. “Are you going to do better,” she asked with me still draped over her knee (like all fine things, I drape well 😊).

“Yes.”

“What happens if you don’t?”

“I’ll get a spanking.”

“Where?”

“The living room? Ow ow OW!”

“On your bottom. That’s where you get spanked, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I get spanked on my bottom.” She was gonna make me say the whole thing anyway, so I said it before she had a chance to ‘prompt’ me some more.

“When you misbehave, I spank your bare bottom, don’t I?”

“Yes, when I misbehave, you spank my bare bottom

“Okay. Up you get.” She helped me back to my feet gently, and my hands went to my butt. “My good girl,” she said and then kissed me. “That little dark cloud is all gone.”

Oh yeah? Over whose head? She collapsed more than sat down on the couch.

“Do you want me to make you dinner,” I asked.

“We ordered pizza at the office.”

Well, motherfuck that; finding a pretext much? “Can I run a bath for you?”

“No, honey. That’s okay.”

Well, dammit. She looked less happy than me, and I’d just got spanked. I sat down on the couch next to her and basically put myself in her lap with my head on her shoulder. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

“You already did, sweetie. Thank you.” She kissed my forehead and started playing with my hair.

I wasn’t wearing pants. That makes her very happy, so the lack of visible happiness was a dead giveaway. “You don’t look happy.”

“It was just a long and not very good day. And now it’s better because I’m home with you.”

Do you wanna know how considerate I am? A demonstration of just how selfless I am? Something to show that it’s not all about Mary making me feel better when I need it but us supporting each other and doing everything we can for one another? Because when I look sad, Mary usually won’t let it go. When she looks sad, I won’t be put off either.

“I’ll wear a diaper for you tonight, if you want,” I offered. Because I love my Mary and I am, too, a good girl. Really!