Mary and Daphne #180

Ever intend to do something sneaky and right as you’re about to do it, you get the sense of being watched? Like if you were to tilt your eyes upward, you would see an eye looking back at you? Like Sauron’s eye just watching you?

As I slithered up the bed in which my sleeping beauty was snoozing and laid my cheek on her chest, I sense I’d been caught. Looking up, not at all chagrinned or blushing, there was the one eye. Not that Mary only has one eye like Sauron does, but only one was open which really accentuated the vibe of suspicion she was giving off.

“What are you doing,” she asked me. Reasonable question. Did I also mention I’d pulled the covers back to expose a, um, Mary? Cuz I didn’t, and I will deny I did and no one can prove the covers didn’t shimmy down during her nap.

“I, uh, was gonna wake you up so we could go to dinner at seven, like you said.” See, I was obeying her, actually. If I had my way, dinner would be served hourly from one to nine, but Mary says we only need one dinner and that she wanted it on that day around seven. I’m a good rule follower. Mary must agree with my assessment of my rule-following abilities cuz she smiled at me. Not that I’m basically a golden retriever or nothing, but when she smiles at me I do a little happy dance inside and no, I’m not obsessed with her to the point of being a love-sick teenager either.

“Well,” she said to me, “what if I pretend to go back to sleep and you can do whatever it is you were gonna do?”

She is such a good problem solver! And I’m not a fan girl who believes Mary can do no wrong and is great at everything. It’s just that I’m very in love with my wife and you’re jealous and how did you even get a copy of my diary? Pervert. But anyhoo …

Mary and I can read each other’s minds sometimes, and she musta read mine cuz she scooted herself up to pretend to sleep sitting partly up. That makes it so much easier for me to wake her up by, what’re the words I’m looking for here … putting my lips around her nipple and doing stuff to it with my tongue.

“Mmm. Aheehee!” It’s not so easy to make some dominants giggle like schoolgirls, but I can make my Mary do that and more. I mean, she thinks I’m hilarious (which she’s correct about), and also I can make her cum just by teasing her nipples. I’m so talented at so many things that I think it’s time I start introducing myself as Daphne Taylor, Polymath.

“Good girl” is what Mary called me. Not that I’m basically a Labrador or nothing, but if I had a tail, I’da been wagging it. Also, my Mary says I’m a good girl. Squeee!

Must be a very good girl cuz she reached over and pulled me close so she could put her hand between my legs and stroke my thighs and do that thing where she just reaches between them, plants her hand on my butt and just holds it. Almost like she owns it or something, but she just has permission to use it however she wants. One might even say she’s encouraged to use it however she wants. That her forearm was rubbing stuff was just a delightful bonus for both os us.

Cumming just from having my nipples played with is not one of my talents (no polymath can do everything, unfortunately), so I couldn’t say if it’s more powerful than the standard path to orgasm (it’s a well-trod path, and we’ve left many a footprint stomped the heck into it). I can say, however, that Mary prefers I don’t touch her down there when I’m sucking on her nipples. She wants that o single-sourced.

“Ow! Daphne Ann, no biting, or I’ll sp-spank you-r b-b hhh! Hhh!”

She always says that. Every single time. Not once has she ever done it. And somehow I’m the one gets accused of doth protesting too much.

I’m the only woman who has ever made Mary do that just by teasing her nipples. I’m quite proud of that, so it was with some smug satisfaction, after, that I asked Mary, “Am I better than any alarm clock?”

“By far. Hold still.”

“Why? What’re you gonna do to me,” I may have said in my please-do-something-to-me voice. Talk about setting yourself up for disappointment. All she did was pinch the back of my diaper – her! Her diaper! – and look down it. Dammit …

And o yeah, she’d put one of her diapers on me before we took our nap. Double dammit …

“All clean.”

“Of course it is, meanie,” I said with authority. Didn’t pout, and if someone says I did, they are telling a lie to you. Don’t associate yourself with lying liars who tell lies when they’re lying. You’ll get a bad reputation.

“So many clean diapers, it almost makes me think you must be backed up. Hmm? Do you need Mary to give you an enema so you can fill your diapie?”

“Marrrry!”

“Heehee! Clean but not dry.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“I’m not blaming anyone, sweetie. Especially a little girl I know who just can’t help herself.”

“You put it on me almost as soon as we came in from the beach.”

“I heard the word ‘almost’ in there. Sounds like you decided not to go straight to the potty when we got back. Haven’t we talked about you needing to go straight to the potty after we’ve been out so you don’t have an accident?”

It's very hard to stand up for yourself or even get upset with her teasing when you’re laying against her bare skin and she’s running her fingers through your hair and using her firm-loving-kindness voice. Also, ya know, even harder when you like to get teased. If only I didn’t also not like to get teased, I’d wouldn’t have done any of the mental or physical squirming I did or pathetically whimpered, “We never talked about that.”

“Maybe you just forgot. You’re so little, and little girls forget sometimes. That’s why their wives have to be patient and remember how smol they are.”

“Gaslighting,” I muttered. “I’m not smol, and I’m not a little girl.”

“It wasn’t a very long nap. You couldn’t hold it for an hour? A big girl could.”

“Hmmph.”

“That was a very weak hmmph. I think someone knows I’m right. Now tell me the truth, did you wet your pampers before or after you got in bed?”

“I won’t lie to you, Mary.” That’s it. That’s all I said.

“I think that means both.” She patted the part of me that’s not quite my front but isn’t quite my back. We’re both big fans of that part of me. “But I think it was maybe more like before, during, and after. You got a heavy diaper!”

“Be nice to me,” I pleaded. Yes, I lowered myself to plead with her. But it was just for the sake of humoring her. Really.

She rolled over and took me with her, as she is wont to do and has no trouble at all just moving me around like a doll. I’m not tiny. She’s just freakishly strong while maintaining an almost slender figure that belies that she could just tear me apart with her bare hands … I love it when she does that.

“I think,” she said while trapping me underneath her, “that you (kiss) need (kiss) kisses (kiss kiss kiss) all the way down (kiss) to your tummy (kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss).”

Not that tummy kisses make me turn into a very biddable puddle, but also a little bit yes and a lot too.

“You want out of your diaper?” To which I nodded. “Because you wet it?” To which I didn’t not nod. “Let’s see again how wet.”

Mary suddenly disappeared from sight; I heard a deep intake of breath sound. I don’t know what made Mary think she could tell how wet my diaper is by snoofing it, and also, where did that new and interesting behavior come from? But I she could certainly feel it, and feel me she did. Then her head popped up in my line of sight again.

“What would you say,” Mary asked me, “if I told I’d let you out of that wet diaper, but only after you rubbed it against my leg until you came?”

I don’t think we’ll ever know what I’d say because, according to Mary cuz I think I blacked out for a second, my eyes just got big and I put a pillow over my face. I just … needed a minute alone.

But I didn’t get more than a couple seconds cuz Mary pulled the pillow away in her don’t-you-wanna-be-my-good-girl voice said to me, “What’s the matter? Don’t you wanna desperately hump my leg until you make cummies in your pampers?”

I had an answer to that, but I never got to say it because Mary gave me two swats to the outside of my thigh, chuckled, and said, “Just teasing. We’re gonna be late for dinner. C’mon; let’s get in the shower.”

“(Sound of me blinking.)”

And off she bounced like a naked person on her way to take a shower, leaving me on the bed wondering how serious she was and why my body once again betrayed me by responding as though I liked the … idea of … being … which I didn’t like … at all. Really … DAMMIT!!!

So there I was sitting on the bed with a pillow in my lap trying to remember where I was and what my name is when Mary popped her head back around the door.

“You coming?”

“What!?! Pshh! Pfft! Phsaw! Not even!” Like geez, Mary – flatter yourself much? The ego on that woman. Like by words alone she could make me … though she has before, but they don’t count because reason. Really.

And the hips on her too moving her across the room toward me. “Are you coming to the shower?”

“ … I knew that. Really.”

Mary waited, I think for something to happen, before asking me, “Like, now?”

“O! Sure.”

I got off the bed. I was ready to take a shower. And there was Mary just standing there staring at me. What was she waiting for anyway?

“Daffy, do you need me to fuck you in the shower?”

“Yes. That is a thing I need.”

“Well let’s go then, you silly goose.”

And she's so romantic too!