Mary and Daphne #146

Oops I did it again! Play with your heart? Nope, broke the spending limit rule. Which, firstly, needs to be adjusted for inflation. Mary put that rule in place 6 years ago when a hundred bucks went a little further. I’m a victim of macroeconomics!

But did I decide to hide my malfeasance? Nope. I decided to flaunt it kinda flamboyantly. Because reasons. Reasons which I will now relate to you.

“Mary,” I called out, “o darling love of my life Mary.”

“Are you drinking again, Daffy,” she called back from upstairs. She has this idea that when I start pining for her in a sing-song voice, it means I’m tipsy, which is true, is it what is. She’s very observant, my Mary is.

“Yes, but that’s not important. Come downstairs. I need you.”

“Then why don’t you come up here?”

My mom used to say that. It’s a good point – if you need someone, you should go to them barring a reason not to. Did I have a reason? Kinda sorta depending on how you look at it.

Not that the tree was the reason, but I used that as my reason. “Because the tree is down here, and it’s not gonna decorate itself.” Would be kinda neat if it could but also less fun for us.

“Like a kid at Christmas,” I heard Mary grumble.

“It is Christmas, and I’m not a kid. I’m just full of holiday mirth. … What’s taking you so long? Are you answering emails again?”

“No,” she said in that way you do when you’ve been caught doing exactly the thing you were accused of. I’d get spanked for outright lying like that. Me personally, I’m not on my phone nearly as much cuz I don’t work anymore. No email to check, and a lot less procrastinate. Can you be jealous of yourself? Sorry-not sorry.

“Fibber,” I called back. Now that I’m not working, I’ve decided to be one of those thick-headed people who just tells working folk to stop checking their email as if it were that simple. I mean, it is, but there can also be consequences to that, which the thick-headed folk ignore.

“I’m coming.” Squee! She’s coming! “My little girl couldn’t wait five more minutes to decorate our tree; is she just so excited for Christmas,” Miss Mary Smartmouth said as she got to the bottom of the steps. Very smartalecky, but also very right. We never should’ve waited so long. It’s a Christmas travesty that we didn’t put it up the day after Thanksgiving.

“I am so excited for Christmas. I’m just sorry we couldn’t get a real one this year.”

“Where did you get that outfit?”

“What outfit?” Like, who me? And o, this old thing? And wait what? And stuff.

“That outfit,” she said kinda lasciviously. She’s always getting all lascivious with me. Which is goals.

“O, you mean this Christmas elf outfit that I’m wearing. This rich green velvet minidress and the pointy shoes and the hat and the bells,” I asked innocently, because I sooo am innocent while running my hands over the velvet as if to draw her attention to what was underneath it. “You wanna ring my bell for me?” Was that sexy? I can’t always tell anymore. And aren’t I so innocent? I’ve never done a crime or a malfeasance or even a misbehavior. Really.

“Hold still,” my Mary told me. Which I did, and then she attacked me with her mouth and the kissing and the hoyven! She likes me. I can tell.

“Is that a yes,” I said as I collected myself and straightened my hat.

“I’ll jingle your jangle, little elf.”

“Heh. Yes please … but after the tree.”

“Such a good worker.”

“Just trying to impress my boss. Could you get the other box of ornaments out of the hall closet?”

“This isn’t all of them? Did you buy more?”

“You can never have too many,” I said all light and breezy and sorta hid behind the tree for some reason, watching her discover my other purchase. I like to imagine a great big smile on her face when she saw it.

“Where’d my little elf go,” she said as she carried it back into the living room and totally saw me but since I was pretending to hide she pretended I was hidden cuz we’re sympatico like that.

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like my red velvet sexy Mrs. Claus outfit? I do.”

“These cost more than a hundred dollars.” She can’t spank me if she can’t get me (without knocking over the tree), right?

“Such a naughty elf.”

“What happened to a hard-working elf?”

“Works hard, plays harder.” Yeah, that’s me.

“So am I in trouble,” I asked as I came out of my faux hiding place.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Ooo, that tone and that expression: I wasn’t in trouble, but that’s not the same thing as not getting spanked silly.

“Will you hold this chair so I can get the top part,” I asked because reasons. See? I can plan ahead just like Mary can. Not as far ahead, but far enough.

Mary was good enough to hold the hold chair, and I took a single, shiny red ornament from the box, a very inefficient way to decorate a tree, one at a time. Maybe not such a good worker elf after all.

“I did save money on these though,” I said as I leaned forward to place my ornament. And stayed bent forward. “What do you think?”

Mary made one of those o yes damn sighs that are like aural signal flags for here I come. “Hold very still,” she ordered me, “and don’t move while I decide.”

Easier told than accomplished when she runs the tips of two fingers up each thigh and folds the hem of my skirt across my back. Did I mention it was a short skirt? Did I mention the bending over? O yes I did. And did I mention I saved some money on the outfits.

“Did you by chance,” Mary asked as she palmed and squeezed my cheeks, “save that money by not buying the panties that are part of the outfit?”

“Maybe,” I said as, “woah! Um, safety first. Heehee! You’re gonna make me fall.” Miss Mary of The Wandering Hands Lesbians does honor to her people’s legacy. Ya know, I think she likes what she saw or something cuz it’s not like her to forget about safety. Especially mine.

“Then I’d better snatch you off that chair.”

“Noooo,” I said as she snatched me right off that chair like the world’s strongest ninja, did a spinny thing, and landed us both perfectly on the couch. When did she get so strong? Ya know how people get super strength when a loved one is in danger? Do they also get super strength when they’re thirsty and wanna get at their loved one’s lovely bits?

“Um,” I said as her weight held me down and I traced a finger from her neckline down the v of her shirt. “Hi.”

“I think it’s time to promote you.”

Ooo! Really? I guess I do deserve it and stuff … for something. “To what?”

“Such a delicate beauty like yours would be wasted in the worker elf department. How would you like to get promoted to the harem?”

“Yes please.” Things sure have changed since Santa died and Mrs. Claus took over the operation. Much more casual work culture but much more strict discipline; periodic nudity, free snacks in the break room, adult situations, team lunches, workplace affairs, and a company discount on gym memberships. Mrs.

Claus is quite the benevolent tyrant (my favorite kind of tyrant). Well, I guess it’s Ms. Claus now. Do we even know her maiden name?

“Promotion effective immediately.” And she’s necking me. Yep, she likes me and she’s not subtle about it at all.

“Wait. We have to get your outfit on.”

“No we don’t.” Ooo, she likes me and she’s in a hurry.

“Yes we do.”

“Uff … really?”

“Is that what I sound like when I allegedly whine?”

“Yes but even worse.”

“I saved money on yours too, ya know. And actually, I got you something a little special to wear with it.”

“O yeah?”

“Yeah.” Such witty repartee the two of us have at all the times. “Lemme up and I’ll get it for you.” She did, but reluctantly. “Maybe you wanna start changing into your new outfit,” I suggested cuz wives don’t let wives jingle alone. (But the bells definitely have a shelf life on not being annoying.)

She got so distracted by the outfit she forgot about the box of ornaments I asked her to get. And what ornaments! To hang on her; not for the tree.

“You can’t open it when you’re dressed in regular clothes,” I told her.

“Long as you got your bossy pants on tonight, wanna help me get undressed?”

“You’re the boss. I just work here.” I’m a very good worker; definitely earned my promotion and didn’t sleep my way to the top at all. Really. Also, don’t be calling mebossy. I’m emphatically not the bossy type. I’m better at doing as I’m told and following the rules. “You won’t needing these. Lift your hips.”

“Only if you don’t use your hands.” Is it hot in here or is it just me? Nope! Not just me with the warmth coming from the places and the yes please. True story: taking them off with my teeth is not as much of a challenge as it used to be because practice. I didn’t practice my flute or my French lessons or my calligraphy, but this skill, I practiced.

When I had those offensive non-Christmas panties of hers off, I told her, “You can open … The box! … I mean, your present … The present!” Remember that time you were suave, like for a one-minute period five minutes ago? Maybe practice that more?

“Aww, are you losing your composure and getting flustered? How cute.”

“Quiet, you.” She opened the box, which I should’ve wrapped but didn’t. I was busy giving her present a test to make sure I liked it and it wouldn’t, um, hurt me.

“That’s quite the candy cane,” she said as she took it out of the box, “Are you sure this is the right size candy cane?”

“I tried it on … at home, not the store.”

“Good girl.“ O heck heccin yes she called me a good girl! Score!

“And a matching red and white harness. It seems there’s a theme to this outfit. Does someone have a little Christmas fantasy about getting railed by Mrs. Claus at the office holiday party? … You can get up now.” O, am I still on my knees in front of her? Silly me (but not a silly goose). At least I remembered to take her underwear out of my mouth. Sometimes I don’t even know where I am … and stuff.

“Honestly? I just thought the dildo was funny. It’s more of a Mary-in-a-short-red-velvet-minidress fantasy. … In fact, I don’t think it’s a Mrs. Claus outfit.”

“No?”

“I think it’s a Mary Christmas outfit.”

“Am I still in charge of the elves?”

“Well, this one.” That’s one more elf than I’m in charge of.

“Then my first order is for you to get back on the couch and lay on your back again … actually, no, lay on your front.”

O my gawd she’s gonna do stuff and things to me so hard. But I had to delay still. I didn’t want to, but well, I also did want to because reasons. “Not yet.”

“Disobeying orders? Is someone looking for a punishment?”

“The tree.”

“You are so single-minded sometimes.”

“And most of those times are about you. Boxing Day role reversal comes early this year.”

“When we’re done, I’m hanging this candy cane on the tree.”

“Marrry!”

“Well you wanted one on our shelf!”

“You’re teasing me.”

“You’re saying I’m the tease right now. That’s rich,” she said right before she kissed me and did this groping maneuver to my butt … again. I may have jumped a little. “Is my silly Christmas goose jumpy,” she chuckled. “Ha! I goosed my silly goose.”

“I’m so much more fun than your phone,” I reminded her. She was glowing: one part lust, one part Christmas spirit, one part liking me and stuff equals a glowy Mary.

“Yes, you are. C’mere.”

“Tree.”

“Just c’mere.” I did but only cuz she’s in charge. And when I got there (all four feet away), a hug! “Thank you for the outfits and for doing so much of the decorating this year. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy.”

“It’s okay.”

“It is and it isn’t.” And a kiss too?!? Awww shucks; I’m blushing.

“Just one more week,” I reminded us both. Just one more week and then Mary would be off for the rest of the year and could spend all that time with me and I could spend all that time with her.

“You’re wearing this outfit on Christmas Eve at your aunt’s.”

“No way!”

“We’ll talk. Maybe add tights.”

“O gee, ya think? I can’t just go with my butt and, ya know, hanging out?”

“And maybe a diaper.”

“Yeah, not, is the thing.”

“At least a pull-up.”

“Like my butt isn’t hanging out enough and you wanna add padding.”

“We’ll think of something.”

“And you think I have a North Pole fantasy?”

“At least wear it on the plane?”

“… … ‘Kay.” That sounds fun. Will definitely have to add tights or we’ll be on the news.

“Ha! My naughty little elf.”

“So I’m not in trouble for spending so much?”

“No, but you are getting one heckuva spanking before bed.”

“Before or after you candy cane me?”

“Yes and,” she said very confidently like she was going to both-plus the heck outta me which, ya know, she was gonna and I was gonna enthusiastically participate.

“Marrry! You’re gonna make me swoon.”

“Such a silly Christmas goose.”

“Eep! Stop goosing me!” Like, geez with the squeezing and the tickling and the … sigh. I like her back. Really.

“No,” she answered to my command.

“Ugh. Fine … Do you wanna do the … thing later?”

“You mean that thing that you’re too shy to say out loud now?”

“Yeah …”

“You can say it: nursing on my nipples. Aw, you’re blushing.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“I’m flushed. That’s different.”

“And why would you be flushed?”

“Cuz your hand is on my butt again … and it’s moving.”

“I like your butt.”

“I like your hands.”

“My little elf.”

“My Mary.”