Mary and Daphne #173 (Patreon)

That time I bought the oversized inflatable pool had to be one of my best ever decisions. Did I spend too much and get spanked for it? Yeah, but it was a little spanking (and I didn’t hate it nearly as much as my words mayhaps implied). Does it take up too much of our patio and make it difficult to get from the door to the yard? You betcha. Does it contain a couple hundred gallons of water we have no good way to dispose of? Yep. Is it cool and wet and behind a privacy fence where there’s no one to judge me for sitting in it up to my hips sipping one of those frozen alcoholic alcohol drinks (with liquor in it)? You better believe it.

Just me in my two-piece (for once, cuz I wanna get a tan or something approximating one), and then my good friend Margarita came to visit at 11:00, which is earlier than she usually comes but I’d been up since early and it was a super nice day outside and why not enjoy it before it got truly hot.

I think I may have been born to this lifestyle. That’s not really something I like admitting cuz we’re all about work in this culture and having an identity inextricably tied to what we do, but I think what I do – what I was meant to do – is be Daphne. It’s harder than it looks but a lot more rewarding than, say, anything else. Thank goodness I married well, not that either of us knew Mary was gonna one day make enough money that I wouldn’t have to work.

I’d say we (mostly me) lucked out except it wasn’t luck. Mary is the prototypical Type-A personality, and she worked heccin hard for everything. She works heccin hard now, and sometimes I’m that wife who whines about how hard she works as if I don’t know she’s doing it for us, but that’s okay because part of my job is to cajole, bully, pout, or anything else I need to do to get Mary to take care of herself in all the ways I can’t take care of her for her.

But no such cajoling needed on that Saturday. I didn’t know what was keeping her, but I knew she’d be along eventually. I could just close my eyes and let the rays of sun caress my face with their warmth … for about twenty seconds before Mary (yes, the Mary, a legend in her own time, much like myself) opened the sliding door behind me.

“I saved you a seat,” I told her.

“Are you Daphne Ann Taylor,” was Mary’s suspicious reply. She’s a very suspicious person, my Mary is. Shifty; a dodgy character; always plotting.

“Um,” I said cuz I was stalling for time. Who knew what she scheming this time. “No? Never even heard of her.”

“Turn around.” So bossy. Not that I turned around cuz she’s the boss of me or nothin’. I just wanted to, so I did. “Are you sure you’re not Daphne Ann Taylor,” asked Mary. All five-feet-eight-inches of Mary, clad in only a lifeguard’s red one-piece with her legs all … mmmm long legs (gay diarist squirming).

“I am Daphne Ann Taylor. Yes … please.” Mary’s faux-stern face. It’s just like her actual stern face, but there’s a twinkle in her eye that tells me firstly that I’m not in trouble and thusly that fun will soon commence. Gay fun. Gay, kinky fun.

“I’m the head lifeguard around here,” Mary (the head lifeguard) said as she strode toward me all goddess-of-summer like with her … one-piece (for which I have this thing called a fetish, which is when something not usually sexy makes you have lusty feelings and stuff; yep, just me in my pool, feeling lusty … and stuff).

“That must be a very powerful job,” I said all coquettishly to the head lifeguard. I am a coquette, ya know. The dictionary says that’s the same as being flirtatious but it’s not, and I know that because I’m terrible at flirting and ever so good at being a coquet.

“I’ve had several reports about your behavior at the pool today.” She pulled a chair up behind me. Mary behind me always makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. She has, um, a tendency, we’ll call it, to, uh, take advantage of me – yeah, we’ll use that phrase – when I’m not looking. Not that I’m not a hundred and ten percent okay with that and sorta kinda definitely encourage it in subtle, femininely wily ways.

Still, I turned over so I could look at her cuz, ya know, she’s pretty all the time and smokin’ hot in that one-piece and I like her and stuff. “What’d I do.” An innocent question cuz I’m ever so innocent. Really.

“Were you running on the pool deck?”

“Mhmm. Very fast, totally unsafe, endangered everybody.”

“And is that an alcoholic beverage in an open container?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had alcohol. What’s it taste like?”

“Give it here.” I dutifully handed it over, and she took a sip, by which I mean a long, slow drink that would give us mere mortals brain freeze, but not head lifeguards. No siree.

“Drinking on duty,” I chided her.

“How would you know if you don’t even know what alcohol tastes like?”

“Oops. Caught me.” Keep your hands to yourself. Don’t paw the lifeguard. Her fun bits are, like, right at eye level and she’s not crossing her legs and it’s just … geesh! I want it! But don’t paw the lifeguard. Don’t paw the lifeguard. Just … be patient. I shoulda had that margarita faster. My inhibitions were clearly way too strong still.

“And we have rules about what little girls wear at this pool.”

“I should prolly just take this off then, huh?” Not that I’m a little girl, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express, like, eight or so years ago.

“Stand up and bring me your towel.” Which I did. Not because she’s the boss of me but because I realllyyy wanted her to do whatever she was gonna do next to me. After all, I’d misbehaved at the pool. That must have consequences. I know when I need a consequence (I’m very self-aware), and I needed a heccin consequence … possibly two or three of them … and another at bedtime.

I handed over my towel, and she dried me off, paying special attention to certain special parts of me (hence the attention being so special; hence indeed).

“Was your misbehavior worth it,” the head lifeguard in her cardinal red head lifeguard one-piece swimsuit (no pawing … yet!) asked me. “All these people looking at you, seeing you get scolded by the head lifeguard like a naughty little girl. Turn around.”

When I turned around, gone was our backyard, and in its place was the pool I spent almost every summer day at growing up. Mom would drop us off for swim practice at 8:00. She’d pick us up at 4:00. The same people sat in the same spots and did the same things day in and day out, and I very happily transported myself back to that place, imagining hundreds of potential onlookers, some of them onlooking and most of them reading their books and swimming their laps because – and I know you’re not gonna believe this – in my head, 30-something redheads get spanked by the lifeguards all the time. Sure, it’s embarrassing, but it’s not out of the ordinary.

As I was settling every so delightfully into that headspace, these seemingly familiar hands patted the inside of my thighs, and I spread them as if I didn’t mind the head lifeguard taking such liberties, like, at all.

“Are you embarrassed yet,” she asked me while working that towel in between my legs to dry a spot she’d gotten from the front pretty well. “Cuz you will be when I take your swimsuit down and spank your bare bottom where everyone can …”

“Rmmm,” was all I said to cut her off in mid-sentence.

“Did you,” she said all scandalized and more determined than ever to teach me a lesson, “Did you just cum in your swimsuit? Right here on the pool deck? In front of everybody?”

Not my fault. Her fault. And the swimsuit’s fault (hers, not mine). You don’t shake up a bottle of soda and then blame the bottle when it explodes. That’s just science and basic manners. Emily Post said so or would’ve if she’d been asked.

“Let’s just get these down right now then.” She hooked her thumbs into my bottoms, and while things were a bit foggy, I did remember that these games (actually, not a game; a Very Serious Activity, if you take these kinds of things seriously, which we do) are more fun if I play too (Not play, actually. Very Serious and Enthusiastic Participation).

“No,” I cried and stepped back (and almost fell into the pool cuz sometimes I lose all sense of place when I’m participating Very Seriously), “you can’t take my suit down in front of everybody!”

“Like you’re leaving much to the imagination anyway,” she replied and – true story – had to fight me a little to get by bottoms down. “Fine,” she said as she won our battle of wills (funny, what with us both willing the same thing), “I was going to (spank!) using my hand, but if you’re going to be so naughty, you can march your bratty buns over to the table and bring me what’s on top of it.”

“But I’m naked!” (Almost … even with the mostly private backyard, I’m not naked back there very often … pants and panties around my ankles, well, more than I’d like to admit).

This very authoritarian lifeguard – and she has a lotta chutzpa too – smacked me very hard on my butt, surely leaving a handprint there as though signing her artwork, and told me “March. Right now, little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl,” I spat back as I marched (but totally out of step – take that!) to the table and brought back a paddle. A paddle I hadn’t seen before. Lexan, hard and heavy without being too heavy. It can pack quite the sting but still leave a bruise, which I surely didn’t deserve. I can honestly say I’ve never earned a spanking, let alone a paddling, in my life. Really.

“You look like a little girl,” the head lifeguard retorted, and I know this seems weird, but I think she was referencing my lack of a certain patch of body hair. I’d never met a lifeguard like this before; such a pity cuz I think I’d be friends with all of them, and I don’t think I’ll ever get over what I missed out on.

“Why are you being so mean to me?”

“I’ve giving you a consequence for your poor choices. You’re the one making an exhibition of yourself.”

“That’s bull whoah! Hey!” Yanking me off my feet and over her knee the moment I was in reaching distance like she’s queen of the darn pool! Hmmph! “Don’t you …” SMACK! “Ouch!”

“Are you gonna settle down and take your spanking, or do you wanna draw an even bigger crowd?”

We’ll just see about that! If I’d had sleeves, I’d have rolled them up and everything before telling her, “I will not settle down! I will not hold still! I will not be quiet! And I will not learn my lesson!”

And this lifeguard, my hand to god, takes everything so literally. What gives with that? It’s like just because I said those things, she thought she had to tilt me forward so my feet weren’t even on the ground, clamp her arm around my hip, and paddle me like a kayak. I meant to struggle and fight back and tell her exactly what I thought of her and her stupid rules, but at the first strike of that paddle, all I could think was, O fuck yeah. Red – ow! – one-piece and – ouch! – spanked at the – eep! – pool lifelong – oof! – fantasy – mmf! – o fuck yes! “Rrr.  Rmmm!”

How very … unusual. And I’m a very usual person. Really. It’s not like as soon as it was over I was wondering whether I could engineer a scene like that in real life cuz that, too, would be very unusual.

“Did you learn your lesson,” the head lifeguard asked me while rubbing my butt. Pretty sure they’re not allowed to do that.

“Hemmm.”

“Daphne?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you learn your lesson?”

“Sure,” I yawned. Something about not bringing in outside snacks. Who knows? I was suddenly very sleepy, all limp and stuff over Mary’s knee.

“Up you go.”

You mean I hafta to hold myself upright using my own body? That’s way too difficult, but I did it cuz I’m strong and stuff.

“The other rule,” Mary Queen of Lifeguards said to me as she unfolded her towel to reveal a thing she’d kept concealed, “is that little girls who get their bare bottoms spanked at the pool hafta wear a swim diaper so everyone knows they’re to keep an extra close eye on them cuz they’re so smol.”

“Do I hafta?”

“Every spanked little girl does. Do you think the rules don’t apply to you? Are you special?”

“Yes. I’m very special. My wife says so all the time,” I replied while she threaded that thing up my legs. I woulda minded more, but I was feeling like I owed Mary a little something for all the planning and effort that went into this surprise fantasy fulfillment, and if it made her happy, then … and I wasn’t planning on wearing them very long.

“There,” she said and swatted my butt. “Remember, these don’t hold tinkle.”

“Mary, get in the pool.”

“Excuse me, little girl? Are you trying to be the boss now?”

“Get in the pool or take me inside right now.”

Mary’s it’s-cute-how-bossy-you-get-when-you’re-horny face.

Mary stepped into the pool and held my hand as I did the same cuz she likes me and stuff, and as we sank deep into all ten inches of water, I told myself, you can paw at the lifeguard now.

“Do you think it’s a one-piece fetish, a lifeguard fetish, or a pool fetish,” Mry asked someone. Probably not me cuz I was so clearly not into having a conversation just then. Nope, I was more intent on getting that one-piece off her shoulder to expose a … never you mind what. I’m a very private person after all, even if I forget sometimes. Really.