Mary and Daphne #70 (Patreon)

“Daffy,” my Mary called.

“In here,” I called back.

“What are you doing in here,” she asked me when she found me submerged. Well, partially.

“I was cold,” I said from the bathtub. And bored. The tub is a good place to read. Also, when I’m in the tub I’m not eating or baking cookies. I think I have an addiction. I could ask Mary to take a firmer hand in helping me deal with it, but then she would, which would mean fewer cookies and more depredations upon my sacred person. And there’s only so much of my person for her to depredate. Surely I must safeguard at least some of my person for my own purposes. Which gets complicated when my purposes are to eat cookies and collect depredations. Anyhoo…

“There are other ways to get warm,” Mary said as she sat down on the edge of the sub and swirled her fingertips in the water.

“Have they let you go yet?”

“Almost.”

“You have that look on your face again.”

“People keep wanting stuff. They’re under the impression they’re the only ones taking off for Christmas.”

“Want me to fix their wagon for them?”

“How would you do that, Daffy?”

“I’d tell them they’re making me sad.” I winked at her. I’m a winker. Did you know there are people who can’t wink? They look awfully silly trying, those poor souls.

“And you think that would help why?”

“Because when I tell you I’m sad, I can get you to do anything. Plus, it’s Christmas, and no one wants to make a pretty girl sad at Christmas.”

“Well, I know no one wants to make a little girl sad at Christmas.”

“Grr.”

“Exactly,” Mary said with that I’m–so–satisfied–with–myself twinkle in her eye, “a little girrrrl.”

“So when can you tell them to fuck the fuck off?”

“You’re a salty little mermaid.”

“Well, they’re being a buncha grinches.”

“And I should go give them their Whoville presents so they can back to their mountain and be miserable.”

“I don’t want them to be miserable. I just want them to let you shut down that computer so we can start our Christmas vacation.”

“A few more hours. Then I’ll be done.”

“Kiss me first.” Which she did, because I’m more important than work. Really.

Mary is taking off for the entire rest of the year. We’ll be using her time off to do whatever we want. If there weren’t a pandemic, that would be more fun, but we’re going to make our own fun. It can be found in the least expected places. We’re gonna try the most expected first, but it’s good to have a backup plan.

Getting out of the tub is the only part about taking a bath I don’t like. I’ve been late to things because I haven’t wanted to get out of the bath. Being late because I didn’t want to get out of the bath is worth avoiding if it’s somewhere important, because Mary takes a special delight is spanking wet bottoms (even if it makes us more late; I’ve pointed that out in the moment, but she doesn’t seem to get the logic; I wonder why). If I’ve made extra bad choices, like this one time when I (maybe) insider traded (I don’t think I did, for the record) she’ll even put me over her knee and wet my butt with a sponge while she spanks. But that’s reserved for my truly evil deeds.

I braved the frigid seventy-degree air of our house between the tub and my bathrobe knowing it would be a good time to wrap Mary’s presents. It’s been hard enough, for both of us, buying presents this year and it not being super obvious to each other where we got stuff at and what it might be. I used to have her presents delivered to my office, back when I had such a thing.

I’m not so good at wrapping but I’m great at giving presents, and I love to do it. Watching someone open something you got them is so much fun, and hearing later that they really like it is even better. Even better than that is if they say it’s better than what someone else gave them, not that it’s a competition, but I strive to be everyone’s favorite aunt. Really. Period. End of story. That means I hafta to try extra hard to be the one to give the best presents.

When they get older, I’m also going to be the best aunt because I’m gonna teach them stuff like why the sky is blue, the best swears, and how to hide misbehavior (within reason). If they’re parents are as vigilant as Mary, any advice I could give them would be not so much with the helpful, but I think only Mary is as vigilant as Mary. And I’ll be the best aunt by being the safe adult they can come to with anything. Really.

Other than giving the best presents to my niblings, my goal for Christmas is to make my Mary’s Christmas so friggin’ awesome it makes up for the whole supporting both of us and all the strain that went with that this year. We managed just fine, and not having anything to spend money on like travel and concerts and conventions helped, but I knew it was a little extra stress for her in an already stressful year (because she told me, after many seconds of interrogation; I’m just that good of an interrogator). Sure, being employed has its advantages during a lockdown, like having people to talk to, but I got to pursue new hobbies and Mary got to keep the internet on and manage a P&L. Good thing she got that raise to go with her promotion, but that was extra responsibility too.

Mary is the kind of person who thrives on responsibility; I mean, she’d hafta be to be my disciplinarian. But even people who thrive on responsibility still need a break from it. The theme of my presents for Mary this year is self-care.

Mary and I also exchange white elephant gifts on Christmas Eve and our real presents on Christmas morning. Being the very good girl I am, I considered buying some of the things Mary loves inflicting on me as presents for her, but then I figured she was probably getting a bunch of those things for me. Anyhoo, I can’t wait to give her the white elephant gifts almost as much as her real presents. She’ll either love them or spank me for getting them. I’m guessing mostly the latter, which she’ll love.

As for me, I know I’m getting a pair of headphones I’ll like. Feel like I earned those twenty times over, with a bruise the size of my butt as a bonus payment.

No one ever talks about how sore your back is after wrapping presents. I texted Mary to see if she was nearly done and got out of my bathrobe. Yeah, it’s the old lady kind, but it is December even if it’s not actually cold here. It just feels cold if you live here and are used to it being warm to hot nine months a year.

Being cold (it’s the curse of all sylph-like creatures), I put on a Christmas sweater and went to free Mary from the clutches of the evil corporation that pays for our stuff and  gives us health benefits and let’s Mary take off the whole rest of the year (buncha bastards, amiright? Well, the ones who won’t let her stop working are) and tapped on her door frame, peeking around the corner.

“Now are you done,” I asked.

“Yep.”

“You got that funny look on your face again.”

“I had a call with my boss and got my Christmas bonus.”

“Jelly of the month club?” All of friggin’ 2020 was one big jelly of the month club.

“Yeah, but a five-figure jelly of the month club.”

“Shut up!”

“It pays to be the boss.” Of her team. She has a boss who has a boss who has a boss etcetera etcetera etcetera (and so forth).

“You didn’t know they were gonna do that?”

“No. I ... no.”

“Are you happy?” She didn’t look happy.

“It’s sinking in. But it’s work, and work is over for the year, so let’s talk about it later.” I was more than happy to do that.

“Mary?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s Christmas Vacation.” Hehehehe! I don’t care how old I get, I never want to not get excited for Christmas Vacation.

“Wanna go look at Christmas displays?”

“Yeah, but I need your help first. But it’ll only take five minutes, promise.”

“What’s up?”

I stepped from behind the door frame. “So first, my back hurts from wrapping. And secondly, I tried what you said and put on a sweater, but I’m still cold.”

“Hmmm, do you think that could be because you put on only a sweater?”

“What do you mean?”

“O, just that pants and undies and socks go good with sweaters.”

“Aww dammit, Mary. You know I need very specific instructions.” Really.

“Hehe. I know. My fault. Let’s go warm you up.”

“And rub things.”

“All sorts of things.”

“And take a nap after.” Sure, she wanted to dive into Christmas Vacation, but sometimes I gotta be the responsible one, and Mary needed a nap.

“Goes without saying.”

“And then it’ll be time to go see lights,” I assured her. First, self-care. Then, Christmas lights. I insisted. I’m not as good at Mary at insisting, but I’m pretty good at insisting and being the responsible one. Really.

I wish I could say I have an elaborate plan for making it her best Christmas ever. I’m thinking I’ll just be extra frisky and see if we can’t live in a little kink manger until the new year, with breaks for Christmas movies and food. Hmmm.

Away in a manger, no room, board, or bed, my sexy Domme Mary inflicted her most favorite perversions on little ‘ol me (in our rooms; with, among other things, a board; on, in, and adjacent to our bed).

Yeah, I think that’s the story I wanna tell come January. We’ll leave the farm animals and wise men out of it, but there could well be gifts of gold. I’ve been extra good this year, in case you didn’t notice. Very little in the way of misbehavior. Many good deeds done. I’m a very good girl. Really. Mary says, and she’s in charge, and Santa is afraid of her. Really.