Mary and Daphne #32 (Patreon)

I don’t know why I ever agreed to it. And I knew I would feel that way when it actually came. Our annual local kink convention, for which the organizer asked Mary if she’d be interested in doing a demonstration session on erotic humiliation, and Mary asked me, and I said yes because my theoretical future self is wayyyyyy more adventurous than present me. And eventually, unfortunately, future me always morphs into present me.

The convention moved online, and we spent three hours setting up our guest room and twisting every which way to make sure our webcam wouldn’t accidentally capture our faces since we can’t ban recordings like we could do in a hotel ballroom (Cinderella had no idea what she was missing out on when she left before midnight). I went to bed as Daphne, and I woke up as Molly, Demonstrator #2, next to my loving wife Lucy, Demonstrator #1 (for tax reasons, of course).

And we didn’t rehearse or talk about what we were going to do. The organizer was going to do a brief intro on what erotic humiliation is, and then “Lucy” would take the lead. All Mary and I talked about in advance is whether I was okay being naked at any point, and I said I was okay with them seeing my butt and me naked from the side, and I was fine with it because a whole lot of attendees have seen me bare bottomed over Mary’s knee at play parties anyway. Heck, some of them have seen me bare bottomed over their own knees. So I guess add a smidge of exhibitionism to my happy list.

I got dressed like normal, and so did Mary, and we waited while the organizer talked about gentle versus harsh erotic humiliation, the difference between humiliation and degradation, how important it is to walk the fine line between humiliation that gets a person like me all twitterpated and touching on things that’ll hurt feels and ruin relationships, and how other kinks fit into it while we waited for her to turn control of the video over to us.

“Come sit,” Mary said. She patted her lap and I sat on her thigh. She put one arm around me and the other low on my tummy, giving me a reassuring pat. “You sure you wanna do this?”

“I can d-d-do it.”

“But do you want to?”

“In the weird way I do enjoy things like this, y-yes.”

“Brave little girl.”

“I am not a little girl! I’m an unpaid sex worker, at least for the next half hour.”

“Ha! We’re gonna have fun. Just remember: we’re the only people here. You don’t have to say a word to the camera if you don’t want to.” Because see, in my old job I talked to important people and never felt shy about doing it, but the topic of conversation in those days wasn’t, well, this. Plus, I knew when I went into a meeting I’d be staying clothed the whole time. That’s very reassuring.

“And now,” the organizer said, “I’ll turn it over to Lucy and Molly, who agreed to do a demonstration for us today.”

And then the light on our webcam came on. I wish I’d gone to pee again.

“Thank you, Mistress Sage. I’m Lucy, and I’m Molly’s domme and her wife.” She waved at the camera, which captured everything from our ankles to about Mary’s chest and my chin. She paused, looked at me still sitting on her lap, and when I didn’t say anything she said, “And Molly is feeling shy today. I don’t think we’re gonna get many words out of her, and that’s okay. Can you sit in your own chair?” And the demonstration starts because of course I can sit in my own chair. Asking me questions like I’m a bashful toddler…

I really didn’t know what to expect. I wish we had rehearsed, but Mary said we’d just wing it. I didn’t know if she was going to launch into a scene or what. I got off her lap, and then she said, “Molly and I have been together for just over five years, and erotic humiliation intersects with a lot of our other kinks. We are a lifestyle domestic discipline couple, which was Molly’s idea because she knows while she may be a grown up on paper, she needs a pretty firm hand to her bottom to keep her on the straight and narrow. Don’t you, sweetie? … She’s nodding just a teensy bit.

“For us, humiliation enforces our power exchange dynamic – Molly obeys not just because she wants to, but because somewhere inside her kinky little mind, she knows she’s better off that way. Domination is about compelling someone to accept power exchange, whereas erotic humiliation is about making them internalize the rightness of power exchange. In our case, it’s taken on a bit of an ageplay flavor over the last couple years, though Molly will be the first to tell you that she’s ‘not a little girl,’ and ours it’s a very gentle form of erotic humiliation. It’s not about being mean, but about constantly reinforcing that Molly needs that firm guidance. Molly is not in charge of Molly and shouldn’t be in charge, and she knows that. Molly, who’s in charge of you?”

I almost said Mary, but I managed to squeak out, “Lu-Lucy. You.”

“And who should be in charge of you?”

“You.”

“Good girl. And it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You tried so hard for so long, but it’s better this way, isn’t it?”

She leaned over and gave me a kiss. Mary paused and looked at me again, then smiled wide into the camera, if only it actually captured her smile, and added, “And one of the ways I like to reinforce the fact that Molly is not in charge is by putting other people in charge of Molly, and the only way that can work is to have very frank conversations about Molly with other dommes, like we’re doing right now; she squirms ever so delightfully when she’s listening quietly to dommes discuss how to manage her.

“She can be quite the little handful. Sometimes it gets to be a bit too much for Molly, and she just jumps in, very rudely, while we’re talking. That’s a perfect example of why Molly needs so much guidance in the first place – she knows that kind of behavior is only going to end with her getting her bare bottom spanked, but she just can’t control her little impulses. I’m not shy about tipping Molly over my knee in front of company, and once company gets to know Molly a little bit and sees that she needs that kind of discipline and guidance, it doesn’t faze them either.”

“You can hold a little back, ya know? Does everyone have to know our business?”

“Awww, see, folks? She just can’t help it, especially when she’s tired. I’m gonna let that little outburst slide.”

Mary moved her chair so she was sideways to the camera and whispered to me, “Remember, it’s just you and me,” and then in her regular voice said, “Alright, Molly. Come stand right here.” I moved my chair and did as I was told. “Inspection time.”

Awww, crap! I hate these. She hadn’t made me do one in at least a year. I started to take my shirt off.

“Ah ah ah. Arms at your side, little girl. You know better.” Mary unbuttoned my shorts and whisked them down. If I’d had my choice, she’d have taken my panties down with them. Not that I wanted to do the whole lower nudity thing on camera, but my panties were, well, sigh …

Mary asked, “Ooh, what undies do you have on today? … Molly, I asked you a question: who is that on your undies?”

“Mo-Moana.”

“Is Moana on a clean bottom?”

“Y-y-y-mhmm.”

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re shy. We’ll see just how clean you managed to keep them in a minute. Arms up.” I put my arms up, and Mary pulled my shirt off over my head. She reached around me and took the scrunchy out of my hair, brushing it out with her fingers so it fell across my bare back. “Molly,” Mary feigned surprise, “where is your bra?”

“Um, I, uh, didn’t put one on.”

“Did you forget?”

“Um, no?”

“Well, honey, I wish you’d said something. I’d have helped you put one on. Did you have trouble with the clasp again?”

Excuse me! I do not have trouble with the clasps. And anyway, most of my bras are pullovers.

“Maybe you’re not ready for an adult bra. You could certainly get away with a trainer.” What a bitch! “Arms out. We’re just gonna check, make sure you’re keeping up with your hygiene.” She started talking to the audience as she looked me over very closely from my forehead to my belly button. “She does a pretty good job, most of the time, but it’s the harder to reach places she has a little more trouble with.”

I about fell down, and made the Pillsbury dough boy noise, when she poked her finger in my belly button, not to mention almost wet myself. That must’ve been added to the inspection checklist since the last time she did this.

“Which is okay,” Mary continued, “that’s what I’m here for, to help her get these things right and make sure she’s well taken care of. Turn for me, honey.” Now my butt was to the camera. “Molly, remind me again why you’re wearing pretty princess undies.”

“Mmm-mmm.”

“Mmm-mmm? You don’t wanna say? Are you embarrassed?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

She turned her attention back to the camera. “Now, I could spank the answer out of her, but this isn’t about domination through pain – at least, not right now. It’s about reminding her of the natural order of things. I’m in charge of Molly, and I put her in those pretty princess undies to help her remember to behave. When she decides to act like a grown up, she can wear grown up panties. But if she’s going to act like a little girl, she can wear little girl underoos. And when she forgets to behave like a big girl, it isn’t Moana’s bottom that gets paddled. Is it, Molly?”

I was having a hard time with the words and the breathing quietly. SMACK! Well, Moana’s butt might be safe, but she just got a face full of Mary’s palm.

“Little girl, does Moana misbehave?”

“No,” I meeped.

“That’s right. Moana doesn’t misbehave, and neither do any of your other underoo friends. When you make bad choices, it just wouldn’t be fair to spank Moana and your other undies, would it?”

“Mmm-mmm.”

“No, your undies get pulled down and you get spanked on your naughty naked bum bum, don’t you?”

“Mhmm.”

“Use your words,” she said sweetly just like she was talking to our toddler nephew.

“I get my bare bottom spanked,” I forced myself to say to avoid a demonstration of that, too.

“And I’m afraid she needed a spanking yesterday.” Mary slid my panties down. I felt all the finest, most invisible hairs on my body stand up. I learned in an instant that it feels one way to be pantsed and flipped over her lap for a public spanking and a whole nother way to just stand there on display. “But her bottom looks pretty healed today. Just a little pink that you all probably can’t see. Someone tried to sneak a soda when I told her to have water, just a little naughtiness. Molly was lucky I caught her, too, because too much sugar and caffeine almost always ends with her in a lot more trouble.”

One time! One time on, like, a dozen separate occasions.

“Now, back to our inspection.” Mary got up and stepped across the room to the box she put in there that I was not allowed to look in and then she was back with a hand on my shoulder. “Sometimes, folks, taking care of Molly isn’t a pleasant task, but I do it because I love her and because she needs me to. Bend over, sweetie.”

O sweet, Jebus, no. No no no no no. Nonononono!

“Molly Moo Moo…” Okay, what the fuck? “I’m going to check your bottom. Now, do you want to do it standing up, or do you want to do it on the changing mat?”

Why did she need to tell everyone we have a changing mat? And it’s not even a changing mat. It’s one of those chair pads old people sit on, and a lot of kinky people have them for reasons I’ll leave to your kinky imaginations (keeping fluids off of places, for the imaginationarily deficient).

“That’s called ‘authoritative parenting,’” Mary explained. “I gave her two choices, and she knows she needs to pick one before I pick one for her. Well, little girl, which will it be?”

Trying so hard to keep my thighs together, I started to bend forward, and Mary, merciful as she is, stepped between me and the camera so my girlish charms remained a secret to the wider metropolitan area.

“Now, we’re gonna wipe front to back,” she did with a wipe that was at least the temperature of her hand now, which spared me a shiver but still produced a little squirm as she wiped my … self. “And I’ll spare you all the results unless … aww, she passed with flying colors, see?”

Oh my god! Is she actually showing the wipe to the camera? Of all the ways she’s come up with to make embarrass me, she reached a new low or high or what-friggin-ever.

“It’s so important to offer praise when Molly earns it. Can I get some applause for Molly?”

The audience was muted, but I’m o so sure I collected plenty of applause from the peanut gallery.

“You can straighten up, honey. One more part to check. Turn back sideways. Here.” She took my arm and crossed it over my breasts. “There – no need to be immodest. Just because you have some growing to do doesn’t mean it’s too early to be a lady,” she said with her eyes dancing with spritely little devils of mischief cackling at her own (very mean!) joke. She stepped around in front of me again. She looked almost as flushed as I was. To me and at a normal volume, she said, “How ya doing?”

My answer was to let out a breathy, “Okay.” She leaned forward and brushed the hair out of my eyes and gave me a very good kiss.

“You’re being such a good girl.” She smiled at me the same way she did when she married me and every day since. She gave me another quick peck.

“Your undies were all dry. That’s a good sign. Now,” she said to her audience, “Molly will protest all day long just how embarrassing this is, and she’ll probably tell me later how she never wants to do this again, but as red as her cheeks are, and as flushed as her face feels, I bet I’m going to find some evidence she doth protest too much. Hold real still …”

She took her hand and held it a few inches from where Moana was very recently surfing. “O,” she said in her sweetest faux disappointed tone, “there’s an awful lot of heat coming off her princess parts. That’s never a good sign for a successful inspection. I’m going to have to feel to be sure …”

Like I wasn’t trembling enough when we got started. Adrenaline and oxytocin and a hormone I’m pretty sure is just called lust were all mixing and making synapses fire and things with the places and the wobbly knees and lightheadedness.

“Mhmm. Unfortunately, she doesn’t pass. There’s just too much, well, no need to embarrass the poor dear further. I might as well tell you now that Molly has never passed an inspection. She’s done such a good job improving in all her other ‘departments,’ but she’s always such a …” She looked at me with a way-too-pleased with herself grin. “… hot wet mess when we get to the last part.” She shook her head at me.

“But I’m proud of her anyway. She tries so hard, and if she needs more time to get it right, that’s fine with me. I’m just here to help her learn, even if she never does. And I also think she’s a very brave little toaster for being my helper today, so despite failing her inspection, she’s earned a reward. And because it’s important to reward good behavior right away just like it’s important to correct naughtiness right way …”

Mary took four steps to the camera and turned it off, then unplugged it, then shut our laptop.

Damn right I’m a brave little toaster. A brave little toaster that’s gonna get …

“How ya doing,” she asked me as she walked back to me and put her hands on my shoulders, making my goosebumps have goosebumps with her touch.

I chewed on my lip for a moment. Nothing came to mind, so I repeated her question inside my own head and … drawing a blank. Where was the little smartass woman who’s in my head putting in eighteen-hour workdays for moments just like this? “Um, I need to pee.”

Mary just smiled some more, nodding in tight, quick little nods as if to say, I know exactly how you’re feeling. I bit my lip again.

“Mary?”

“Daffy?”

“You wouldn’t pass an inspection either,” I said coyly, the little smartass returning from break but maybe not quite ready to dive back into her best work.

“That,” Mary said and leaned in and kissed me good, “… is a very disrespectful thing to say …” (kiss) “…and just for that …” (kiss) “… I’m gonna make you stand in the shower while I …” (o, with the kisses; she’s such a good kisser) “… make you cum until you can’t (kiss) stay on your feet.” (Mmmmmmmmm!).

“Please no, not that,” I pleaded ever so earnestly.

“It’s decided. Hopefully it will teach you a lesson.”

She took me by the hand and led me toward our bedroom.

“Mary?”

“Daffy?”

“Thanks for being … so nice to me.”

“Aww. I like being nice to you.”