Mary and Daphen #125

“I’m sorry,” Jane said to me after lunch.

“I know. It’s okay.”

“No, I mean I’m sorry. I always thought you kinda liked getting in trouble and the teasing.”

“I do, but it’s more fun if I actually did something to get in trouble. I don’t like it when … And I only do the diaper thing because Mary likes it … And I’ve never done the other thing in them. Ever.” I blushed even to say it. I don’t even want to give voice to the word.

“You … you really don’t like it? Like, really? Cuz it’s been almost two years since the first time she made you wear one.”

“Yeah, and?”

“It’s just … that’s a long time to do something you only do because your partner likes it.”

“Hello! I’m not kidding when I say I’m a good girl. I’m, like, the best! I wouldn’t miss it one bit if Mary went back to other ways of pushing my humiliation buttons.”

“Then why don’t you stop?”

“Let’s … not talk about that. Sorta majorly complicated.” Like I need to go back down that rabbit hole.

“Okay. I’ll be better next time we have a play date, if you still want to have them with me,” she said in this pathetic here’s-how-you-can-tell-I’m-actually-a-little voice.

“Of course I do! I just … I’m not little like you. I don’t know how to play like that. But I’ll try for you. Just please don’t be such a brat.”

Not that I’m a brat, but amazing that Mary can tolerate me when I’m not not being a brat … though now that I think on it, she doesn’t tolerate it, or at least not for very long before she puts me over her knee.

“Sorry. Again. If I’d known how much you hated it …”

“If you wanna be a brat, let’s be brats together. That’s fun, but, um, you’ll need to show me how because I’ve never been bratty before.” Uh, really.

That got a laugh out of her. I don’t like it when my friends don’t laugh. I don’t think I’m a doormat, but maybe I do go along with too much to make other people happy. Not that I’m immiserating myself for others; kinda leading a super comfortable life over here, but maybe I should’ve had that conversation with Jane a couple years ago.

“So,” she asked, “thanks for not letting her spank me. Sorta deserved it.”

“No one deserves a spanking if they don’t like it.” Kinda sorta definitely can rant for an hour on that topic.

“Yeah, but …”

“Is that why you didn’t red light? Because you felt bad?”

“Mhmm.”

“Then you already learned your lesson … Do you wanna go back to being little until Lisa picks you up?”

“No. I just wanna hang. I’m sorry I haven’t made more of an effort to see you.”

“I haven’t been any better. I think I got stuck in my pandemic rut. So long as things stay okay here, I can go out to places. Just not crowded places.  And I can go to your house, and you can come over here. Maybe let’s start doing normal people stuff again.”

“Yeah, let’s.”

“What,” I said when Mary laid down in bed next to me and gave me one of those meaningful looks of hers.

“Sorry,” she said.

“You said that already.” When we met, I had that terrible habit of apologizing all the time, and Mary put a stop to that, eventually. ‘I’ll give you something to be sorry for,’ she’d say and then do some seriously unpleasant (maybe a little very pleasant) things to me that, irony of ironies, never made me feel sorry.

“Still. I’m sorry I got her started.”

“She came over started. She can’t do little space around me without getting bratty. She apologized; I don’t think she’ll do it again, at least not on purpose.” Sometimes people slip into their roles without meaning to. Lords know I’ve done that in my life, not just my kink life but the rest of it too. It’s hard to stop when you don’t even realize you’re doing it. You hafta get good at recognizing that behavior. Mary is awfully good at recognizing that behavior in me and has no compunction about telling when I’m doing it.

“And I’m sorry I let her get away with it so many times in the past,” Mary said. “I thought …” She shook her head.

“What? Tell me.”

“I thought you liked it. I thought you liked getting in trouble when you play with her. I mean, almost every time she’s in little space around you …”

“It’s fun to get in trouble together. I don’t like it when she gets me in trouble … or when she teases me.”

“You like it when I tease you.”

“Because you know when to stop. She doesn’t. That’s the thing with littles; they don’t always know when to stop.” Like Tommy. He just doesn’t know when to quit or even to dial it back.  At least when I go past the point I should’ve quit, I’m not surprised to get in trouble. Tommy always has that stupid how-did-I-get-in-trouble look on his face, and it’s purely a middle thing with him because he’s very smart. When he’s not in his headspace, he’s actually pleasant to be around.

I’m not a little, but I’m also not a big. If Jane and Tommy and anyone else are going to be littles or middles around me, it’s not fair for them to tease me and for Mary and Lisa and Brenna to just let it happen. Lisa and Brenna because minding their littles’ behavior is their job, and Mary because protecting me is her job.

“And don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing when you tell me to tell you if quote ‘other littles’ are being mean to me.” And yeah, sure, maybe I did give Mary a little kick with my foot under the blankets.

“Fine,” she said and gave me a little kick back, “I guess when other littles are around, I’ll just have to keep a close eye on you to make sure they don’t hurt your feelings.”

“I heard that.”

She smiled one of her I-like-you smiles at me, which she does cuz she likes me and stuff, and I watched it turn into her can-I-ask-you-something face. “Can I ask you something?” See? Told you.

“Yeah.”

“Roll over,” she said and scooched closer to me. I rolled over and let her make herself the big spoon. She’s a good spoon. “When you two started playing, and you said you don’t know how to play, you really don’t, do you?”

“I … sort of.”

“Didn’t you play pretend when you were a little girl?”

“So you admit I’m no longer a little girl! Ha!”

“You’re my little girl. I just want you to be able to play make believe.”

“Most adults can’t.”

“They sometimes can. I can.”

“When you’re playing with Milo,” I said, referring to our nephew. “It’s not like you do it any other time.”

“I know. I just want you to know how to play.”

“Because it’s cute and something a little would do?” She could no doubt hear me rolling my eyes.

“Because people who know how to play are happier than people who don’t, and I want you to be very happy.”

Oof, I’m having a feeling! Did I ever mention I like Mary a whole lot, not just because she likes me back, which she does bunches, but because she’s the kind of person who wants me to learn how to play just because she thinks it will make me happy? Sigh …

“I am happy,” I said and reached for the hand she had around my middle and gave it a kiss before holding on to it. I like holding Mary’s hand.

“And,” Mary said as someone laying right next to me nibbled my ear, “I’m very proud of you.”

I’m too humble and stuff to be spreading the news, but my wife is proud of me. Squeee!

“What for,” I asked as I may – potentially did but also may not have happened but also yes it did – scooched my butt ever so much closer to her.

“For standing up for yourself. You could’ve just marched to the corner when I told you to, but you didn’t.”

“I also could’ve tantrumed and called you all sorts of things for just taking her side when she started bawling like a baby, but I didn’t.” Not that I was fishing for compliments.

“And I’m proud of you for that too.”

“And I was thoughtful enough to order toys for us to play with.” More like harvesting compliments.

“That was very nice of you.”

“Yes it was.”

“Any other good deeds you want to point out to me,” she snarked.

“Just one.”

“What is it?”

“Are you ready?”

“Mhmm.”

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Mhmm.”

“Here it comes: I’m offering you sex and asking for nothing in return.” There, I said it! My gawd, I’m generous to a fault. Heehee!