Mary and Daphne #96 (Patreon)

Mary was so on my shit list today. I mean, how was I the one in trouble? I was the wronged party! She … urgh! Dammit! I was not a happy camper.

“Mary, please,” I asked for the bajillionth time.

“Sorry, Daff, I just can’t see what’s bothering you so much.”

“You can too!”

“Why don’t you go play outside?”

And you better believe I stomped every step of the way outside.

So what happened? Well, as usual, it began with Mary and her wandering hands.

“Hey,” I exclaimed very politely, “what are you doing?” Very politely considering she just goosed me.

“Checking to see if you’re still dry.”

“Of course I am! I’m wearing panties.”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed. Lots of little girls have accidents.”

“I’m not a little girl. And what is with you lately?” She’s being all handsy and cranking up the kink. She’s like a full blown big with the teasing and the hands and did I mention I’m not a little cuz guess the frick what? I AM NOT A LITTLE! REALLY!!! Hmmph.

“I’m just trying to take good care of you.”

“O my god, Mary, just o my god. You are seriously channeling my mother with that line … It’s not funny,” I said so out of patience with her and her chuckling.

“Aww, c’mere and let me make it better.”

“No,” I said and folded my arms and stayed right where I was on the couch.

“Are you grumpy ‘cause you need the potty?”

I accidentally let out an exasperated chuckle. Those can mean lots of things, but the chief one is being exasperated. “Mary…”

“Okay, okay. C’mon, let’s go.” She took my hand and gently pulled me off the couch.

“Where are you taking me,” I asked with all the weariness I carry on behalf of mankind (and you’re welcome, btw, not that any thanks are necessary; just send money and jewels).

To fast forward, because this is not the main point in my retelling of this episode of mistreatment, I ended up getting diapered on our bed. I didn’t take it laying down either. Or I did literally, but figuratively I hmmmphed and kicked my heels and grunted and verbalized my frustration until Mary gave me one heck of a spank on my thigh. I hope it hurt her hand at least as much as it hurt me. “Do you need more,” she asked me, “or are you gonna be a good girl and let me get your diaper on you?”

I just crossed my arms and held still. It’s super not fair that she’s strong enough to lift my ankles. There’s just no way to fight that. Not that I would because I am a good girl, but I managed to mumble, “It’s your diaper.”

“Yeah yeah,” Mary said like she’d heard that before because she has, “and you’re just using it for me.”

“Exactly.”

At least she let me put my shorts back on. Or so I thought. Fast forward a few hours more.

“Um, Mary,” I said nervously.

“Mhmm,” she replied.

“Um, nothing,” I said because I chickened out.

So another hour passed, and I said, “Um, Mary?”

“Mhmm,” she replied.

“Um, I could, um, I need … I’m wet.”

“Hmm,” she said and turned back to her tablet.

“Well, um, are you …” And I stopped because the answer was clear now with the way she rolled over to her other shoulder to read her whatever she was reading.

And another hour passed. “Mary, I need a change.” I was droopy. Or I was upright and my … (nope!) Mary’s garment was droopy.

“I don’t think you do,” Mary said like she’s innocent of anything at all which she isn’t which is why she’s on my list. Urgh!!!

“My shorts are gonna get wet,” I didn’t whine because I don’t do that but also, I did that. “Can I please change?”

“I can’t tell if you’re wet, so you must be dry.”

“What are you even talking about.” She could damn well tell. Everybody could damn well tell, or they could have if they were there to do the damn telling.

“I’d check you myself, but the last time I did that you got very cross with me.”

O, come the fuck on. “Marrrry, this is uncomfortable. And I’m telling you it needs changed.”

“And who would trust a pampers piddler to know when they need fresh huggies?” She had that spark in her eye she always gets when she’s having so much fun teasing me. It’s very attractive, which is great and all but also, urgh!

“Mary! I want out NOW!”

“Is raising your voice at me ever a good idea,” Mary asked me. Ya know what she has? A Socratic lecturing fetish. My mind flashed back to this time involving a bar of soap and a cane.

“No,” I meeped. “Sorry, but, Mary, please?”

“Why don’t you go play outside?”

And now you’re all caught up. I stomped outside not because Mary told me to but because I was good and peeved, and I needed some space (also because Mary told me to). I get that she was teaching me a lesson. I’m not exactly sure, but I think the lesson is don’t object to Mary touching my panties to – quote – checked for wetness – unquote. Anyone who thinks being a lifestyle submissive is easy doesn’t know what the hell they’re talking about. I signed on to certain things, and I like the things, but sometimes Mary and me get out of sync with the things. Sometimes I want more than she does, and sometimes she wants more than me, and that means we both get put upon a bit.

The difference is I get too bratty or clingy when I’m the one who wants more whereas Mary gets too handsy and quick to goose and quick to spank and just too much with the teasing. These little swings occupy this weird space. I don’t know how long it will last (usually not more than a day) so it’s never clear if it’s worth directly saying something or indirectly saying something or just letting it go.

Nature decided for me. I mean, sure, I could have let nature take its course with me doing nothing to stop it or change the outcome, but I like those shorts. Besides which, I heard Nana in her garden, and I know if I lingered much longer she’d hear me and find me in that … condition. I had no choice but to tug up my big girl pants and confront Mary.

Now, confrontation can take many forms, and you’re probably thinking it would take a confrontational form as that’s a common thing to have happen when you’re confronting someone. My confrontation was less confrontational and more serving up my pride on a platter. So maybe less confrontation than manipulation, but as a submissive, ya gotta keep that tool in the toolbox. Beside, I knew Mary would like it.

I went back inside and found Mary, who was getting something prepped for dinner.

“I thought I told you to play outside,” she said with that spark sparking. “Do you need a spanking to do what you’re told today?”

“I need to go potty.”

“Honey, that’s what your diapee is for.”

Cue crocodile tears. “But it’ll leak and I’ll make a puddle and you’ll be mad at me and I wanna be a good girl for you.” I’d add the boohoos, but I’m sure you can imagine. I shuffled (not waddled, I’ll have you and the whole damn world know) to Mary so I could bury my face in her chest and elicit all the pity.

I got within six inches when she reached out and put her hand on my chest. “Did I arrive in town on a turnip truck today to make you think you could try crocodile tears with me?”

Dammit! Hmmph.“Mary, you’re gonna make me cry for real if you don’t lemme change. This is gross and I want out and I want you to be nice to me today.” Her face softened. “Please let me out,” I didn’t whimper.

She sighed and made her I-can-never-say-no-to-that-face face. “Like I can say no to that face.” See? “Let get you in a dry diapee.”

She held my hand all the way up the stairs while I tried, “Can I wear panties?”

“Of course not, pumpkin belly.”

“Can I go to the bathroom first?”

“Silly goose, that’s what your diapees are for.”

“Can I wear pullups?”

“With the puddle you made in that diapee? Absolutely not.”

“Well, do I get to pick anything today?”

“Of course you do,” she said as we entered our bedroom “You can pick out the kind of diaper you want to wear.”

“‘Want’ to wear,” I grumped, which she ignored.

“And what kind of cookies we bake tonight.”

“This Saturday is more fun for you than me,” I said bluntly.

“Would it make you feel better if I let you eat cookies until you get a belly ache and then rubbed your tummy?”

“ … Yes.”

“Deal. Which diaper do you want?”

“I’ll accept the bunny ones.” It is almost Easter after all.

“Goodness, you are soaked. I wish you’d said something,” Mary snarked while wiping me down.

“Har har … Mary?”

“Yeah, baby?” Why was she so happy changing that diaper? She just looked so … happy, with the smiling smile and smiling eyes.

“Could we …” I was going to ask if she could cool it with the potty stuff, but that smile. And I am eager to please. I chickened out. “… watch a movie tonight?”

Because things always work out when I don’t talk about them until them the feelings spill over. Um, really.

“Of course we can. Lift your hips for me.” I guess when she was situating her diaper under me she saw my face. “Hey, what’s wrong, Daffy?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes there is.”

“I just … need you to read my signals a little better today.” She frowned, sealed the diaper on me, and laid down next to me.

She kissed me on the shoulder before saying, “I’m sorry, honey. I just got caught up.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. Are you okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Do you wanna change back into undies?”

“Not if this makes you happy.”

“Does it make you happy?”

I had to bite down on my lip. “You make me happy.”

“You’re such a brave good girl for speaking up. I’ll do better.”

“I know. You always do.”

“Is it alright if I call you bunny butt tonight?”

“I am not a bunny butt,” I giggled. Though we do have that costume from that one party in the basement…

“I like the idea of you being my bunny.”

“Why a bunny?”

“Cute and soft and snuggly.”

“You’ve never had a real bunny, have you?” They are not snuggly. They are claw-wielding bastards sons of the dirt (I had a bad experience once).

“I don’t want the real thing. I want you. What can I do to make you feel better?”

“Can we do the cookie thing?”

She scortled. “We can do the cookie thing. You gonna be my clingy shadow for the rest of the day?”

“Yes please.”

She smooched me on the neck from where she was behind me, being the big spoon. “Good.”

“And can we turn the air conditioning way up and put on our fuzzy pajamas?”

“Hehe. We can, and maybe we can find you some bunny jammies online.”

“You don’t gotta buy me anything. I forgive you.”

“I don’t gotta buy you anything, but I wanna see you in bunny jammies, and do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because they don’t make silly goose jammies.” She pinched my side where I’m ticklish.

“Marrry! Heehee!”

“You’re my good girl.”  OMG, my wife thinks I’m a good girl. All the feels.

“And you’re my Mary.”

Sigh…