Mary and Daphne #215

There is such a thing as scene drop. You do an intense kinky scene, or you go to a kinky party or convention, and the return to normal life is such a let down that it feels like depression. It sucks. If you’re very smart, you prepare fun things for after the scene or party so you ease your way back into normal life.

There is a similar phenomenon called vacation drop, and we weren’t smart enough to prepare for it. And however much I was suffering for it, poor Mary had to go back to actual work, which is just the worst of all the kinds of work. We needed a thing to pull us out of the drop, and fortunately for us, a part of me is such a thing. My butt: our marital stress ball.

I made a rule during the pandemic that Mary has to stop working at lunch time so she can eat lunch with me. On Wednesday, in honor of hump day, I serve finger sandwiches and myself. Anyhoo, I digress…

I made lunch, and I put the spanking stool in the living room and put one of what we’ve dubbed Mrs. Angry Paddle on top of it, and I waited for Mary. Waiting for a spanking is a funny feeling when you’re the one who sentences yourself to a spanking. Tingly, anticipatey, anxious. That paddle is second only to the bath brush in our house in terms of I-hate-it-I-hate-it-I-hate-it-but-also-sometimes-sure… Not counting the times Mary doesn’t give me a choice, which is never when I’m in actual trouble.

“Hey princess,” Mary said to me and added a quick peck on my cheek. That’s not a pet name for, to be clear; it’s a title cuz I’m royalty and stuff. “How was your morning?”

“Very busy,” I fibbed.

“O yeah?” I don’t think Mary thinks I’m ever busy anymore, and she has a point. I got nothing but time. I procrastinate on stuff until I have the occasional full day, but the whole stay-at-home-mom thing is three hours of work a day max when you’re not a mom, and that’s only if you’re going for extra credit.

“Yeah. I got a job this morning, and then quit it. I know how you feel about quitters. Also, I made fun of the dog. I spit in the sink. I gave the mailman a dirty look when he wasn’t watching. I made prank calls to Moe’s Tavern. I went and found a cat and pulled its tail. I played with matches. I ran with scissors. I played ball in the house. I drew on the walls. And I touched one of the spanking implements and put it in the living room because reasons.”

“Hmmm,” Mary hmmmed at me. “That’s a lot of misbehavior for just one morning. It’s almost like a cry for help.”

“That’s a thing it could be. Also, it could be an offer of help for certain pretty ladies who seem like they’d feel better after smacking my butt repeatedly.”

“You wanna eat first,” Mary asked me. She was still in businessperson mode. I knew by the time she sat down on that stool she’d be in ageplay disciplinarian mode.

“I should probably get my consequence first just to be safe.”

“Okay,” she said and took me by my elbow to march me to the living room like naughty brat, “if you feel so strongly about it that you ask for one, then I guess you really do need a good, hard spanking on your naughty bare bottom, don’t you.”

“I guess so.”

“I think you know so. You even got the stool out. And Mrs. Angry Paddle? That is definitely a cry for help.”

She sat down on the stool and did the ninja magician thing where she pops the button on my pants with a finger flick and took my pants down. “Since you admit you need a spanking, maybe one day you’ll be able to admit you’re too little to be wearing big girl undies like these. Let’s just take these all the way off. Step out. C’mon, gimme a footsie.”

Being naked when Mary is clothed is just all the kinds of feelings. She’s a big bad she-wolf deceptively dressed like an IT mucketymuck, and I’m a defenseless woodland bunny whose bunny pants have been taken down for a spanking.

“Over you go,” she said and helped me get over her knee. I kinda hate getting spanked on the barstool cuz my feet and hands don’t reach the floor, and Mary kinda but definitely l-o-v-e loves the barstool for the very same reason. It’s almost like - and I know this sounds crazy - she gets her jollies making me feel smol and helpless and embarrassed. Crazy, right?

“You’re never going to outgrow the need for discipline so long as you live under this roof, young lady.” She started her lecture at the same time as my warm up hand spanking. See how she loves me? Only good girls get warm ups. “And don’t you feel little right now? I can’t think of a single girl your age who still needs their mommy to spank their bottom.”

Ugh! Total fib! We know at least a half dozen!

“And all the misbehavior you packed into one morning! Mommy is not happy with you.”

Wait; bad words, Mary.

“I didn’t raise you to be a quitter who makes fun of puppies. I’m very disappointed in you.”

She’s doesn’t mean it, I said to myself. She’s just setting a scene. For one, you didn’t actually do any of those things.

But she said I’m not making her happy, I said back to myself.

That’s literally not what she said.

It’s what I heard.

Yeah, cuz you have the insecurity of a middle schooler sometimes.

What’s that supposed to mean? … And did you notice she said I disappointed her? Maybe I do deserve this spanking. A real spanking.

O. My. Gawd! You always do this!

The therapist said not to say ‘always.’

I can’t even with you right now.

I’m gonna cry.

Urgh! Of course you are.

Yep, gonna cry. “M-m-ar-rr-ry, I’m hhh-hh-hhh s-sorry-y waaaahhhh!”

Friggin ridiculous sharing a brain with myself. We’re gonna have a headache in about two seconds and it’s gonna last all afternoon and it’s all your fault.

“That may be, but Mommy still needs to use the paddle so you remember how to make good choices like a nice little girl.” WHAPP!

Which is when I really turned into a sorry, sobbing mess. Feelings you didn’t know you needed to purge are the worst. When I put that paddle on the stool, I figured it would coax some sniffles out of me at the end of my spanking (because it hurts like a B … do the cool kids still say that?). I didn’t know I was so emotionally fragile my brain (with whom I have a very tense relationship) would take a little scene scolding to heart. I knew heccin darn well I didn’t disappoint Mary, but she said the words and triggered the stupidest part of my brain and there I was - draped over her knee (like all fine things, I drape well) crying so hard there was gonna be snot, with my butt on fire and my feet kicking and generally taking my spanking like a first-timer.

And know what my brain said to me next? At least I think it was my brain; may have been my ovaries: This gonna feel great just a few seconds after it’s over.

And it was nearly over. Mary slowed down with the paddle, using it to punctuate her lecture. “You are going to make good choices, Daphne Ann, or so help me I’ll spank your bottom twice a day if that’s what it takes to get through to you. Maybe,” she speculated, “it would help if I didn’t leave you alone during the day. Do you need me to put you in daycare like a baby?”

“N-no.” Not that I had any idea what that would entail.

“Or maybe I need to hire a babysitter a couple times a week. (SPANK!) Are you ready to make good choices?”

“(Sob) Mhmm. (Cry snurfle).”

“C’mon. Sit up for me. Go ahead and cry it out.”

Offer heccin accepted, I put my face in Mary’s shirt and let it muffle some distressingly sincere cries. I got her shirt good, too. She’d hafta change before going back to work.

“Where did all those big tears come from,” she asked me between shushing and cooing and rubbing my seriously spanked butt. I think they call it a sound spanking cuz of all the sounds you make when you’re getting one (I deserve another spanking for that awful joke).

“Dunno,” I told her.

“You been bottling up your feelings again?”

“Iidntinkso,” I said into her shirt.

“What’s that?”

I turned my face to the side and said, “(SNURFLE SNIFF SNIFF SNURF). I didn’t think so.”

“Maybe it’s just cuz I haven’t had to give you such a hard spanking in a long time. Ready to go blow your nose?”

“(SNURRRRRRRRRRRRF!!!)”

She took me back to the kitchen and held a paper towel to my nose. “Honk.”

I don’t honk cuz I’m a not a gosling, but “(HONK honk sniff honk).”

“I bet that feels better. Look up; let mommy wash away those tears.” She got another paper towel, wet it, and wiped the tear streaks from my cheeks. “You slimed my shirt, little girl.”

“You spanked the slime outta me.”

“You wanted me to spank you that hard, didn’t you?”

“Mhmm.”

“Wanna tell me why?”

“I don’t know. Just … Felt like I needed it. And also that you did.” Mary made her perplexed face. “Vacation drop.”

“O … Yeah, a little.”

“Ready for lunch?”

“After we wash our hands.”

“I’ll get dressed again.”

“No you wont. And you don’t need a chair either. You’re going to sit on my knee, and let me help you eat your lunch.”

Okay, so here’s a thing that was so obvious anyone could’ve tripped over it: I needed a spanking to aid with my vacation drop, whereas for Mary, that helped some. Whether she knew it or not, and I surmised not, what Mary also needed was to take doting care her little girl, i.e., me. I’m not a little girl, but I’ll humor Mary in all the ways cuz I love her and stuff.

“I was thinking, Daffy, maybe you need me to be extra strict with you for a little bit. Do you,” she asked while holding a sandwich we were both taking bites out of but only she was allowed to hold it. Nothing to see here, folks, just a spanked adult being fed lunch by the woman who spanked her and who also happens to be married to her. So normal it’s boring, really.

“You decide,” I told her because I don’t wanna make decisions about discipline. Except for the times I do, and then I want my decisions to be reflexively obeyed while also secretly hoping a little bit (30-40% at least) that they won’t be. The rest of the time, also known as all the time, I want Mary to decide about discipline. For one, setting aside the sexual arousal/ submissive thing, she’s a much better boss of me than me. I should know cuz I am the boss of me, and I delegated that authority to Mary.

“I will. I’ll be extra strict for a while.”

“You’ve kinda been a pushover lately,” I ventured with bruised butt cuz I’m brave like that.

“A nap will help with that attitude.”

“Mary, did I make your day better,” I asked seriously. I used my serious voice and everything. Not asking out of insecurity or a need for validation, though. Um, really.

“You made my day bunches better. Mommy loves you very much.”

“I love you too … Mommy.” Little stars and heart. Little stars and hearts appeared orbiting above Mary’s head while two blue birds sand and she made a beatific smile at the whole world and me cuz I am her whole world.

Also, heccin yes I made Mary happy! Life’s purpose: achieved for one more day. Making Mary happy is my most favoritest thing to do. I’ll do just about anything for it, even taking a spanking from Angry Paddle and peeing on myself when she didn’t let me use the bathroom before she diapered me for my nap. Mommies, amiright? Of course I am. True story.