Mary and Daphne #194

Tinga-linga-ling… Tinga-linga-ling … Tinga-linga-ling.

Based on the latest intelligence reports, nothing in our house makes that sound.

Tinga-linga-ling… Tinga-linga-ling … Tinga-linga-ling.

Off I went to investigate. Suzy’s collar has a little bell, but it’s not such a clean ring. Even if it were, unless she learned how to ring it – which is possible cuz she’s the best dog ever and stuff – it couldn’t be her.

“Rrrr rufff bark!” Tinga-linga-ling.

Or maybe it is. Do you put sounds a dog makes in quotation marks?

Tinga-linga-linga-linga-linga-linga-linga-linga

Wow. This is getting aggressive. You know who’s aggressive? Dominants. Especially the one I live with. She’s a predator, a she-panther devouring innocent little forest creatures like myself, completely feral.

And she has a bell now, apparently. “There you are,” she had the nerve to say to me. Mary is the suavest person ever, but there was nothing suave about her right then: sitting on the couch, bell in her right hand holding it as high as she could while fending off Suzy with her left.

Suzy and I were on the exact same page: we wanted that bell, albeit for different reasons. Why did I want it? If you stop interrupting me with questions, I shall tell you: I wanted it because I knew exactly what Mary was going to say.

“You’re supposed to come the first time I ring it.”

Nope; not happening. There was two of us and one of her. Strength in numbers.

“You bought a bell … Give it!” Which is when I lunged, and Suzy, so wound up and so simpatico with me, lunged too.

“No,” Mary said, but she was laughing so it didn’t count. Not that I always listen to her when she tells me no, but I do cuz she’s in charge and I’m perfect, but also I don’t (and yet my perfection remains untainted; maybe I’m miraculous or something?).

“Yes!” And I got that bell. Mary I guess wasn’t so committed to her new toy cuz she didn’t pounce on me like I figured she would. She loves pouncing on me; it’s what she-panthers do.

“What are you doing with my bell,” she asked.

“Fixing it.” As in, unscrewing the handle and thus breaking it down into its three parts. Mary watched, amused and all conflicted cuz I was being so rebellious and stuff, as I opened the back door, called to Suzy, and threw the ringy bit (about one inch long) into the grass. Suzy went after it, I shut the door, and I reassembled the bell (or whatever it is if it doesn’t ring).

“You can have it back if Suzy finds it, but if you buy another one, I’m taking away your Amazon account,” I told my dominant. Who I, um, am not intimidated by. And why even bring that up, right? Cuz it’s not like once I said that there was any sudden loss of confidence. Really. Not like Mary rose from the couch grinning like she was so glad I did that cuz it gave her a reason to do stuff to me … and things.

“Um,” I started very confidently into a brand-new sentence, “did you, uh, need something? … You’re taller today. … Before you do whatever you’re gonna do …”

Like full on attack me. That’s what she did. Full on attack me in the form of wrapping both arms around me, sweeping my feet off the floor, and there we were on the carpet: me, the innocent woodland bunny being viciously hugged by a she-panther. Sometimes when I see one of those videos where a carnivore animal is best buds with a prey animal they would normally feed on, I think, ‘O! Our spirit animals!’

“You’re sassy today,” Mary said to me all happy smiles and stuff.

“I’m not answering to a bell.”

“So when I want you I should just call your name?”

“That system has worked very well for a long time. I’m very responsive.” My performance reviews back when I was a worker bee always said ‘Daphne is very responsive.’

“Unless you know you’re in trouble. Then suddenly you make yourself scarce.”

“That’s not even a thing that’s true! I’m just short; you probably overlooked me.” Impossible, though, what with Mary’s she-panther sense of smell.

“Also,” I said cuz I get to say stuff too, “you’re kinda wound up today.”

“Cuz it’s gonna be a fun day.”

“Why? What are we doing?”

“I don’t know yet, but we’re gonna do it together, so it’ll be fun.”

“Well, I am kinda all the fun,” I said modestly. Very modest, quite humble. ‘There goes Daphne,’ people say, ‘Who does she think she is coming from such humble origins?’

“No one says that, actually.”

“What,” Mary asked.

“Huh?”

“No one says what, actually?”

“O. I was responding to myself in my head.” You try holding three conversations at once. Sometimes you’ll say something meant for one conversation partner and another will hear it, and I don’t see why that’s any more unusual just because two of the persons I’m talking to are me.

“How many people are in there with you?”

“Just me. I’m very chatty.”

“I remember when I met you, you had a filter and everything.”

“I still have a filter. You don’t even hear ten percent of what goes on in my head. And can I tell you a secret? Most of it’s about you.”

“O really,” she said all smiley and stuff.

“Yeah, and some of it is even nice.” Mary bit her lip (which is my job, actually) a sure sign she thinks I’m adorably quirky and stuff. So much stuff, so many things, yada, yada, etcetera etcetera … and so on and so forth.

“So about this fun day,” Mary said with a twinkle in her eye, “would you rather have fun at home or away from home?”

“What if we have fun at home first and then have fun elsewhere later on?”

“How very sensible of you. Up,” Mary said and stood up, pulling me after her. “I got you dirty,” she said. She brushed dog hair off the back of my shirt. Mary says I’m not allowed to vacuum the dog, but I think I’m gonna try anyway and see what happens. It just seems much more efficient.

“Cuz you’re a big bully who knocked me down.“

“Hmm. Yeah I did … Be right back.”

“I’ll be here, my love.” I call her that cuz she’s mine and I love her: hence “my” “love”.

What to do with our day, though. The thing with being childless and me not working is that the weekend isn’t taken up with driving junior humans around or chores. That’s great; however we hafta make up ways to entertain ourselves each and every weekend. We don’t have chores or errands or social engagements, and you can only eat out and go shopping and go on walks so many times. I should use some of my free time to make a calendar of things to do. I guess we could start new hobbies, but me starting new hobbies is really just me buying stuff for the hobby but not, ya know, actually putting in the effort to do the hobby itself.

“Young lady?”

And never mind. Apparently the next phase of our weekend has been decided in my absence.

Cue Mary striding across the living room as though on a mission. She’d tied her hair up. What o what could that portend, and more importantly, would I like it?

“Did you break Mary’s new bell?”

Hold my wine; I got this.

“No, and if she says I did, call her down here and let her accuse me right in front of you. Touché, Mary!If you thought being in two places at once is impossible try being two different people in the same room at once.

I caught her off guard, what with the puzzled expression and the furrowed brow. I foiled her plan!

“You’re getting a spanking.”

For seven-eighths of a second, I foiled her plan.

“But … But I have a right to face my accuser!”

“Up.”

Hey, I’m getting up for some reason.

“Stand in front of me.”

“Not until you admit I outsmarted you!” Hey, I’m standing in front of her. Stop doing that!

“Just because your sister got a new toy is no reason for you to be jealous, and to break it just out of pique – what has gotten into you today?”

“Stop unbuttoning my pants and admit I outsmarted you!” SMACK “OW!”

“You do not try to stop me from taking your pants down, little girl.” Did anyone who’s not me notice I went from ‘young lady’ to ‘little girl’? Cuz heccin nope!

“I can take ‘em down myself.” Not that I deserved a spanking, but there’s more dignity in taking your own pants down than having someone else take them down. Somehow … Not really.

“You are far, far too little to take your pants down for a spanking, Daphne Ann. Now tell me why you broke her toy?”

“Not until you stop speaking in the third person.”

“Do I need to march you upstairs to get the paddle?”

“Because ‘she,’” I said, verbally italicizing the third-person pronoun which nuh-uh not even. Only two of us were there – why were we using third-person pronouns?!? “Because she was teasing me with it. I’m not gonna come when someone rings a bell at me.”

“Over,” Mary ordered me and didn’t even wait for me. She just pulled me over her knee like she was gonna spank me or something, which is just unheard of in general and in specific too. Really.

Hey, she put her leg across my ankles. Almost like she’s gonna do something that makes me kick my feet a bunch?

“You come when your name is called. Why is a bell different?”

“It just is, and you know it is.” Don’t pretend to me like you don’t know it is.

“It is.”

“So why am I getting spanked!?!”

“Because a little teasing doesn’t excuse breaking someone’s toy. You may be a little girl, but I’ll not allow you to be a bratty little girl.”

Heccin hey what?!? Was I bratty? Did she really think I was being bratty? We were laughing a minute ago. But …

Brain, my brain said, do not do this. Do not get conflicted. Do not read anything into this. It’s just a scene.

But what if I was bratty? What if ruined Mary’s fun? What if I hurt her feelings?

You didn’t do any of that. You’re letting your buttons be pushed for no good reason.

Says you!

Enough. Seriously.

Eat farts!

Fine, you know what? You deserve this spanking. You let your emotions get the better of you and broke her toy, and now you’re letting your emotions get the better of you again.

Ha! I do deserve this spanking, and sucks to be you because we share a butt!

Sometimes I think we’re a butt that shares a brain and not the other way around.

What does that even mean?!?

“I’m sorry,” I said to Mary. “I’ll do better (sniffle).”

“… Daffy, look at me.” I looked over my shoulder. “Goodness gracious, what’s with the watery eyes? We haven’t even gotten started.”

“I’m sorry I broke your toy. I didn’t mean to be a brat.”

“You are such a silly goose. I was just teasing.”

“Ha! I know you were just teasing and I was teasing back and ha! Ha, Mary! You’re the one who’s a silly goose!” Sometimes, very occasionally, the logical part of my brain wins out.

Wow. Did anyone see that blinding white flash besides me? My butt hurts all of a sudden for some reason.

Funny how whether the logical part of me or the emotional part of me prevails, my butt pays the price. And I wasn’t really in the mood to submit to a spanking. I decided to make her earn it.

“I can tell now (spank spank spank spank spank) there was no way you (wackety smackety spank) were getting to bedtime without a hot red bottom.”

“Don’t take my panties down!”

“Excuse me, little girl?”

“I’m not a little girl!”

“So I’m not taking Olaf underoos off you right now?”

“Aw, go shush yourself.” How is she so strong? I was legit trying to get away and I made zero forward progress. Lateral progress was good but not intentional, but I’ll take credit for it anyway. She pulled me back to the center of her lap. Hmmph!

“Stop (spank). Your (spank). Wriggling!” SPANKSPANKSPANK and so forth.

“You can’t spank me bare bottom!”

“Olaf didn’t break anyone’s toy. Olaf doesn’t deserve a spanking. Your bare heinie does.”

“Marrrryyyyy! It hurts!”

“It’s a spanking! It’s supposed to hurt.” O yeah … Dammit …

“Eep! Ow! Ow! Owowowowowow! Owie owie owie owie Marrrryyyyy!” What is she even with the started out fun and really toeing the line with the OW!!! DAMMIT!

“Are you gonna break people’s toys anymore?”

“No! I’ll be good! I’ll be good!“

“Good, because I don’t like having to spank your bottom, but I will if you need your bottom spanked. Sit up.”

I only sat up because it was less embarrassing than laying across her lap, not because she told me to. Which is better, somehow. Trust me on it cuz I so clearly make very discerning choices that are always correct. Really.

“I mean it, missy. You and I are going out, and I won’t hesitate to spank your bottom in public.”

Ooo, that’s an invitation.“Where are we going?”

“The mall. Maybe we’ll do some Christmas shopping early. Lay back for me.”

And just for headspace, while Mary was doing whatever she was doing, I was thinking how a spanking is supposed to ruin your day, but I’m such a well spanked girl with such a strict woman looking after me that a spanking rarely even ruins the hour. I mean, ours is just a spanking household. Totally normal.

“Shoot,” Mary said. “Be right back.”

And no, we’re not nudists in our household. It’s just that I spend so much time bare bottom that no one even notices anymore if I’m not wearing any bottoms to cover my bottom. Don’t get me wrong; it’s still super embarrassing having my red bottom on display. I mean, what if one of my friends just came over. Or what if my brother walked in. Or what if the paparazzi found me. I bet I’d get in trouble for that, which would be such a miscarriage of justice, but I’m a good girl. I’d take my spanking on my already red butt with my brother, my friends, and the tabloid media snapping pictures and probably live streaming it. I’d for sure cry just from the humiliation alone, and as much as I’d need the aftercare from my Mary, it would be so embarrassing sitting on her lap being comforted like an emotionally distraught little girl with my butt apple red and my legs wrapped around her and my princess parts almost on display back there and pressed up against Mary while she cooed and shushed and stroked my hair and kissed my temple and told me how sorry she was that I needed another spanking right after the first but that she’d spank me whenever and wherever and in front of whomever because she knows what’s best for me. Alone, thinking those thoughts…

“Daffy,” Mary said when she returned from wherever she went, “is it polite to play with your princess parts in the living room?”

“Whatever you do, please don’t scold me,” I said very innocently for I am very innocent and didn’t, um, stop my little game cuz sometimes if I play in front of this person named Mary she plays along. Actually, she’s the team captain, now that I think on it.

But for the record I’m recording, I am not so innocent that I should be in diapers, which is what she went to get. Shoot.

“Gimme your hand … Your other hand.” Dammit. Maybe it was the lust fooling me, but I thought for a moment I might get away with that. And I, um, only needed another moment. Two, at most.

And then, Mary, see, she doesn’t exactly make things easy. Whatever do I mean by that? I mean she knew darn well whose finger that was and where it had been and she just put it in her mouth anyway. I just …

“Please,” I asked ever since politely.

“Sorry, hun.” She opened the package of baby wipes and cleaned off my hand.

“Why do I hafta wear a diaper to the mall,” I asked not petulantly but, well, something. (Note to self: work on portmanteaus of ‘horny’ and ‘petulant’).

“Because you’re just a little girl.”

“Am not.”

“Lift your bottom up.” Ugh! She got one of the huge pink ones. It might be my size, but it’s still huge. Goes so high up my back. Concealing them requires grandpa pants hiked up to my underarms, and I don’t own any grandpa pants. Guess it’s an undershirt kinda day. At least I can tuck those in.

She spread the diaper under me and I, well, I didn’t open my knees for her. I left my knees open for her cuz they were already, um, ahem.

“We’ll get you all cleaned up.”

Can you blame a girl for trying if she were to, say as a random example, push her hips upward to meet the baby wipe as if to say, ‘Look how ready it is.” ‘It’ being the girl, of course, who is me.

“I should spank your bottom again for doing that in the living room, but I think you’re already suffering enough.”

“Urrrrgh! Hmmph!” Mary and me are so compatible in all the ways except for some, and one of the some is she has an orgasm denial kink and I do not. I do not. You might even say – syllogism of the year coming up – I get off on getting off. (But hey, don’t we all, literally?)

“No grumps allowed. Just because your sister got a toy and you got a spanking isn’t a reason to be a grumpy goose.” This she says while being awfully careful about where she does and doesn’t spread the diaper cream. “And while we’re out, I don’t wanna hear one word about this diaper. You really acted like a naughty toddler breaking her toy, and if that’s how you’re going to act, that’s how I’ll treat you, diapers and all. Besides, we have a lot of shopping to get done, and we can’t be running to the potty every few minutes. It’s not your fault that you can’t hold it as long as other girls your age, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be practical about it and put you in diapers when it’s convenient for me.”

“Marrrrrry.”

“Little girl, you are not nearly old enough to be wriggling those hips like that.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose.” True story. “So is this diaper a punishment or because you’re doing that thing where you pretend I have accidents?”

“Hmmm. The diaper is because of your accidents; that it’s big and pink and barely fits under your jeans is a punishment.”

I just had to ask. I gotta stop doing that.

“So if you need to potty, don’t even ask. You have permission to use your diaper. I won’t get mad.”

“(Sound of me audibly rolling my eyes.)”

“But you also let that be a reminder to you that when you act like a baby, that’s how you’ll be treated … But understand if you have a true accident, I understand you can’t help it. To be totally honest, I don’t really expect you to make it to the potty ever.”

“Stop it! You’re only allowed to tease me from one direction at a time.” Smiling like she’s the queen of stuff and things and teasing and stuff. Hmmph!

She patted the front of it which I barely even felt (urrrrrrrgh!) and told me, “Go find some pants that fit over your pampers, and I’ll get the diaper bag ready.”

“Mary, there’s no way I’ll need a change at the mall. Can we just leave that thing at home?”

“As leaky as you are, I don’t think you’ll need a change either, but if I have to bare your bottom and spank it again, it would be just plain mean of me to put your piddle pampers back on you.”

O geez!

“Be downstairs in five minutes. Don’t make me come get you.”

“Fine.”

“And Daphne?”

“MMMM! … Mmmm … huh-ha!” Not that I enjoyed her sticking her tongue so far in my mouth or nothing or her groping me so flagrantly, but, I, uh, did, is the thing. Even knowing that – in addition to liking me and the inside of my mouth and other parts – she was purposefully keeping me aroused cuz it delights her to make me desperate and watch me suffer until she decides the time is right.

Anyway, like I was saying, it gets so dull having to make up things to do on Saturdays. We never have any fun. Really.