Mary and Daphne #178

I’m a lake girl. Don’t get me wrong – the ocean is great, but my heart belongs to freshwater (and Mary). Bear Lake isn’t Lake Michigan, but it’s big enough you can’t see the far shore, and the beach is wide and sandy. Mary gave me carte blanche to book any vacation rental I wanted, and I chose a house across the street from the beach (we’re not beachfront-rich … or any other kind of rich, which is such a bummer. Haven’t I earned it by being such a good girl?).

We got there Saturday afternoon, had some trouble getting the key lockbox to work, had an early dinner while some person from the rental agency went and pried the heccin thing open, and settled in.

We could rent a condo. It’s just the two of us, and vacation rentals are always huge and meant to sleep 14, but the thing with condos is those shared walls and the shenanigans Mary and I get up to and the neighbors … The last time we rented a condo, we were, um, asked to not come back to that building. Not all of that noise was me, btw. O, to be in our twenties again (wistful sigh).

So we had a house instead, two stories with a porch on both levels and something like nine beds. Mary suggested we make use of each one, and I blushed because I’m very easily embarrassed by these things. I’m innocent and … stuff. Really.

The only downside to staying in a house, or a condo, and not a resort is there isn’t a restaurant right there. We’re also not private-chef rich, which would solve that problem very well, and neither were we think-far-enough-ahead-to-order-groceries-online smart that week, which meant we had to go to the grocery store Sunday morning. In a vacation community of Saturday-to-Saturday rentals, do you know what the grocery stores are like Sunday mornings? Bedlam! Chaos! Crazytown USA! Woodstock ‘99! Fire Festival! So unpleasant that even Mary the Pious was okay missing zoom church so we could go early.

And I was out of bed even before Mary. Showered, dressed, a fully functioning person ready to be seen in public. I’m like a celestial body: visible at that hour only once every seven or so years.

“Mary,” I called out over the shower she was taking, “I’m gonna walk to the beach. Text me when you’re out of the shower.” So that I could be back by the time she was dressed and ready to leave. And you know what Mary said? If you’re patient, I’ll tell you.

“Okay.” That’s what she said.

I like the way sand feels first thing in the morning. Cool and damp. It’s like the beach hasn’t woken up yet. The breeze was gentle, and the water was calm, small waves lapping quietly onto the shore. Seabirds. A few early risers walking or jogging and one guy fishing. I am not an early riser, but I like to think I blended in with them, for I am a shadowy super spy who can camouflage herself amongst the unsuspecting and expecting alike. Very smooth, totally suave, always on guard, ready for anything, in complete control of my surroundings and all events within them. Really.

SMACK!

“What the ….” SMACK SWAT. “What are you …” SPANK!!

“I told you not to go far,” said some crazy lady who said no such heccin thing to me. Me! A sane person who did not! Go! Far!

Caprice! Impulsiveness! Perversity both notorious and public! Public! As in a public beach with people on it!

That crazy lady grabbed me by my elbow and spank-marched me most of the way to the boardwalk! Which goes to the beach! The public beach! Which is in public! And had people on it!

It’s a good thing I’m cool as a yeti or else I’d have probably sputtered, “What but hey what crazy you mean random nulrson! Big bully!”

“I already told you the rules apply on vacation, and it’s not safe for a girl like you to wander away. You know better when you disobey, and you disobeyed me anyway. What happens when you disobey?”

“Marrrryyy!”

SPANK!!

“Ow!”

“You earn a spanking. Just wait til I get you back to the house and over my knee. You’ll think you were sitting bare bottom on hot sand by the time Mrs. Hairbrush gets through with your bare bottom.”

“Who the heck is Mrs. Hairbrush?!?” I was caught off guard, okay? There was confusion and lots of noises, most of them from me, plenty from Mary. I still think I was the more coherent of the two of us. Really. For one thing, I wasn’t living in a whole other reality where she told me not to go far. Hmmph!

“But I didn’t do anything,” I whined in a very righteous, very non-whiny way as we approached the front door. In fact, it was more of a righteous bellow. Eloquent, actually. Really. For I am the embodiment of eloquencioscity.

“Back talk is a very bad idea right now, little girl.”

And then we were inside the house, and Mary spun me around and pushed me against the wall right next to the door and … stuck her tongue in my mouth and went to second base.

For the official record, which I keep and so everything I say is the official version which history will preserve (though some things I’d rather not preserve), I didn’t for a moment think she was at all serious. I wasn’t caught by surprise. I didn’t sputter nonsense. I didn’t whine or plead. I didn’t for a instant think Mary was really going to spank me. Not counting all those spanks I got on the beach and one or two or twelve up the boardwalk and across the street and one really hard one on the porch. Those don’t count because reasons (and you’re not allowed to know them).

“Mar mmm. Mary mmm. Mary! Give a girl some air!” And then she backed off and just smiled at me. A big, derpy smile because Mary, and never me, is derpy. We’ll see who’s derpy smiling when I’m through with her!

“What the (jackhammer jackhammering) on the beach and (tornado tornading) in front of (asteroid hitting the earth and not a moment too soon)! People saw, Mary! Nerple fruunehopper and yousudipperningen standing there with your derpy smile and feeling me up like some kind of aqwersive mooglesnoofer! Hmmph! … And get that derpy smile off you face!”

“Or what? What will my little girl do I don’t get this smile off my face?” A wolffish, aggressive, derpy smile now.

“I’ll … I’ll fuss! I’ll fuss so … heccin … hard that you’ll wish I … That I didn’t fuss so heccin hard.” Dammit.

“Aww, is my little girl fussy?”

“Marryyy! People saw!”

“Only three, and they weren’t very close.”

“It was more than three!”

“Only three saw, Daffy. I was discreet on our way back to the boardwalk. Just little underhand spanks to keep my little girl marching.”

“Underhanded thunderspanks,” I grumbled. That’s when I noticed what she had in her pocket. I’m usually very good about noticing things, especially things happening to my butt cuz a spanko like me has a sixth sense (I like to call butt sense which isn’t very clever but means exactly what it says), but I was sensing so many sensory experiences that I guess I just didn’t notice she was spanking me with the hairbrush paddle. That sorta aggression will not stand.

“You came looking for me with a paddle!?! That people could see?!?”

“Once upon a time, women would waltz right into the neighborhood hairbrush in hand to discipline their little girls and boys no matter who saw. I’m very traditional,” she fibbed. There is nothing traditional about our lifestyle. For examples, read everything I’ve ever written in this diary that you shouldn’t even be reading because it’s private and stuff.

“Mary!” I was gonna say something else, really tell her off, but that was all I could think of … at first. And then I thought of some stuff I didn’t wanna say.

Alas, Mary is a good noticer. I mean, I’m better and nothing escapes my attention, but she’s almost as good. She notices things like, o, say, my eyes flitting up and to the right as if I’m thinking about something, and my lips turning into a tight little smile while I smile about something. And Mary, being my soulmate, knew what that something was. Dammit …

“Aww, what’s the matter now? You thinking about how I came looking for you paddle in hand to scold you and spank your bottom in front of whoever was there?” I hate it when she’s right about this kinda stuff.

She took a step forward into my personal space – so called because it’s directly around my person – and put her thigh between, um, thighs of mine and, uh, moved it in, um, a way that involved movement.

“Are you thinking about those people who heard me say you were gonna get a bare bottom spanking over my knee for wandering away like a naughty little girl? This knee right here,” she said and emphasized it with a … gesture of said knee.

“Hhhh!” That’s a word. I wasn’t just making involuntary sounds like some person responding to certain emotions and sensations. I have so much more self-control than that. Really.

“They probably think that’s what you’re getting right now, my paddle across your naughty little bottom. Do you think they’re picturing it? Your shorts around your ankles? Your little feet kicking furiously? You arching your back and trying so hard not to cry?

“When they picture it, do you think they picture a true redhead, or smooth as a baby down there? I bet they picture you crying and whimpering, begging for your spanking to be over. Do you think they went home and told their friends and family about the little girl they saw spanked right on the beach? Do you think any of them are gay and have new ideas about how to handle their own willful little girls?”

“Mmmary.”

“If you cum in your undies, little girl, you’ll be in diapers until tomorrow morning.”

Like I’ve ever done that or let me her put me in diapers before. Puh-lease. Um, really … and stuff.

“It was - uhhh - still - mmm - wr-wrong to - hhh! do.”

“That’s why I did it so early when fewer people would see. But some still saw, didn’t they? They know you’re a little girl who still gets spankings. They’re probably picturing your red bottom on display, all the modesty spanked out of you, as you sit in my lap and cry into my shoulder. Imagine what they’ll say when they see your red bottom peeking out around your bathing suit this week ‘That’s the girl, the one I told you about. She must be such a handful. Good thing she has that tall, leggy brunette to teach her right from wrong. … Your knees are wobbling. Why are they doing that?”

I can hold it. Don’t let her win. “Mar-Mary. Mary. Groceries. Gotta go, no crowd. Pl-please?”

She relented, and she’s not one to relent (unless I ask, cuz she likes me and respects me and stuff). “Can I feel your underoos?” What? Heccin now she asks permission?

“But no touching me.” Cuz one touch and … Did I win? If no one hasdan orgasm, did anyone win? And how come Mary never cums in her panties just from teasing and touching? Not like I don’t try to make her! And it’s not cuz I’m little and she’s not! So shut up! Hmmph!

“Daffy,” my beach mistress said with her hand in my shorts, “did you wet your pants?”

“No,” I said quietly cuz I’m not a loud person, not because I was feeling smol and submissive. Me? A submissive? Um, never. Really.

“But your undies are all wet.”

“Yeah.” I mean, the woman wasn’t wrong.

“O well,” she said like we just had to get over it and move on cuz wet panties just happen to girls like me, which they don’t … except for sometimes … but not the way she meant (pretended to mean?) … So I’m clearly right … about something but I forget what it is.

“We’re already running late, Daffy Dewdrop. You’ll just have to go to the store in wet underpants again.”

“Okay.” Wait, ‘again’? Bullplop! I should’ve said so. I had so many words to say that they all got stuck trying to come out at once. Really. Mary didn’t render me barely verbal. She has no such power over me.

“And Daphne, you’d better be on your best behavior at the store. I’m putting paddle is in my purse. I’d hate to have to take you to the little girl’s room for one of our discussions.”

“Eep.”

“And I will be spanking you on the beach this week.”

“Where?”

“On your bottom, silly goose.”

“No, where?”

“We’ll find somewhere private. Now, come along, my little angel. We need to get you some pull-ups if you’re gonna get your undies all wet like that, and you need some swim diapers before you can get in the water.”

“Not funny.”

“Am I laughing?”

“Mary.”

“Daffy.”

“Please no?”

“Yes please.”

“Are you gonna be mean to me all week?”

“Only in the very nicest ways.”

Well, that’s a huge relief (and something to look forward to).