Mary and Daphne #95

Just because I’m the bottom doesn’t mean misbehavior is exclusively my domain. Mary is more adventurous than me. If I had my way, I never would have, say, gotten my panties taken down in a Macy’s dressing room and paddled in full hearing of who the heck knows. That’s courting some serious consequences (like court), and it’s partly just luck that we’ve never gotten caught. At first, Mary would tell me that once she explained my transgression to the whomever, they’d just tell her she was right to spank me and to not wait until we got home, but of course that was just her being a smartmouth. At a certain point, and we’re aware of this, we’re gonna hafta stop playing like that in public.

But not yet! And also, some of those (most of them) were not play. They were me getting my bottoms dropped in public and getting spanked like a person who earned a spanking (which I usually had). So for now at least, we can still play in public places, and Mary being Mary (i.e. always having to be in control) decided that’s what we’d do with our Sunday without, ya know, telling me.

We hiked all over creation, or so it seemed to me. If we walked any further, we wouldn’t be in the same park anymore. Mary declared “This is the spot,” and we sat down to eat our backpack-temperature lunch. Growing up, Mom thought I was too skinny and obsessed over me not eating lunch at school sometimes. Back and forth we went on it until I explained that as much as I loved her, her Healthy Choice turkey on white bread with Miracle Whip was even more tasteless after it had been in my locker all morning. I was, like, fourteen before I found out about real mayonnaise, which is ironic given I grew up in Wisconsin with ranch dressing everything.

“Thanks for packing lunch,” Mary said to me as we set our meagre feast before us on our picnic blanket.

“You’re welcome. Thanks for getting me out of the house … We should go camping.”

“I thought you didn’t like it.”

“I don’t like being stuck in our house even more, and I could give it another shot. It would be better this time of year. We shouldn’t have gone in the summer.”

“You didn’t mind the skinny dipping part,” my predator of a wife reminisced while being all smiley and eating a strawberry. Pretty woman eating strawberries … subby drool noises.

“That’s something we should do – plan our next adventure for when the pandemic is over. Where are we going,” I asked.

“Where do you wanna go?”

“I asked first.”

“What if we went to Europe again?”

“Which part?”

“Maybe do a few countries. I could take a couple weeks off, and we could see a few places. Eat too much gelato. Drink all the wine.”

“I think we should go back to Germany.”

“Why there?”

“Dirndls.”

Mary rolled her eyes at me in a nice way. “You have the cutest fetishes.”

“I’m just the bodice ripping type. How’s the hummus,” I ask while sliding my foot toward hers for some footsie.

“It’s good. What if we did a whole alpine thing? We could start in Germany and go to Austria, Switzerland, and Italy?”

We planned our trip in our heads, and lord know when we’ll get to take it. Hopefully a year from now, though maybe sooner. I wouldn’t mind taking an alpine trip in the winter. There are so many mountains I haven’t slid down on my ass shouting for the other skiers to get out of the way.  It’s not that I’m not athletic. It’s just that I’m not so much with the coordination on slippery surfaces. Surely I’m not the only lesbian who gets discombobulated when confronted with a slipper surface. This one time in college …

Anyhoo, I bet it would be just as fun to toboggan. I’m good at that. I grew up in Wisconsin after all. I even know how to ice fish. What you do, see, is dress in layers and drink schnapps in an ice shack. You may even catch a fish if you remember to put your line in the water.

We finished our lunch, put our things away, made out like freshmen, and just when I thought we were going to fold up the blanket, Mary said to me, “Hold on.”

“Why?” I was kinda eager to get back and we had a long walk ahead of us.

“Before we go, I wanna deal with your attitude.”

“What attitude,” I asked with a boatload of attitude.

“On the way here you asked, ‘how much further.’ I think we should just nip that kind of bad attitude in the butt.”

“It’s ‘bud’ and I wasn’t complaining. I was just asking.”

“And now we have this whole other problem to deal with,” she said with her I-can-keep-doing-this-for-as-long-as-I-want smile plastered to her face.

“You’re just making stuff up! … And what other problem?”

“You’re not over my lap yet.”

“But …”

“Exactly – your butt isn’t over my lap.”

“But people.”

“We didn’t see anybody in the last two miles before we got here, and don’t you wanna be my submissive little girl?”

“Well, yes to the submissive and girl parts.”

“You just love girl parts so much.”

“But couldn’t we wait until we get home?”

“But Daffy,” Mary said with her snarky smile plastered on, “don’t you want to be by submissive little girl?”

“You said that already … and yes, but …” Stupid feelings making me feel feelings with the conflicted feelings and things and stuff. “Fine,” I said and scooted over to her. Why do I always give in (also known as submitting) just because I’m the submissive?

“The last time we did this, it was your idea, if memory serves,” Mary reminded me. “Over my lap.”

“But that was further from the trail, and there was more stuff between us and it.”

She flipped up my skirt anyway. “And as a concession to that fact, I’ll leave your undies on.”

“Mary, no! Eeeep!” Buh-huh! Urghh! Fnnrmrmrrr.

“Why you eepin’?” She was swirling her fingertips around on my butt cheeks, and yes, I liked it, but eeeeeep!

“Because you’re so mean to me.” Letting me keep my panties on was not so much an ideal situation because wedgie. Not an atomic wedgie, but maybe a napalm wedgie because it burned with the panties practically splitting me in two.

“I’m not mean, Daffy. I’m strict, because little girls need someone in their life to keep them on the straight and narrow.”

“Nothing you’ve ever done to me has kept me straight,” I snarked with all the snark I could snark to prove she’s not nearly so good at snark as I am when I’m snarking. There was world weariness in my snark, too.

“And thank goodness for that.”

“And I’m not a little girl.” Really.

“O, so it’s a big girl laying across my lap about to get her bare bottom spanked.”

“Yes, and there are no contradictions in that sentence whatsoever, so just do what you wanna – hhhhh! – Mary! We’re in public!” With those fingers of her going places and doing things. That’ll teach me to give her blanket permission to do what she wants with me. Lesson noted and learned.

“Now that you say that, this place does look a lot different from our house. But back to business. Why are you getting your bare bottom spanked?”

“Because you said.”

“I think there’s a little more reason to it than that.”

“Because you made up a reason and then you said.” Minor risk, but I felt compelled to tell the truth. What’s the worst she could do? Spank me?

She chuckled instead. “Sounds about right. Now, it’s okay if you need to struggle and make adorable little subby noises during your spanking. That’s normal for a little girl getting her bare butt warmed, and I won’t have any trouble controlling your body. I’ve given lots of little girls spankings.”

“You’ve given the same grown woman lots of spankings lately.”

“That’s the kind of attitude we need to adjust,” Mary said, raising her hand.

“Injustice brings out my attitude,” I managed to say just before her hand made contact with my butt. “Ow! Marrrry, go easy on me. I’m tiny.”

“Pshaw. You are not (SMACK). In fact, you’re a larger-than-life figure (SMACK!).” SMACK SMACK SMACK!!! “There, that should remind you who’s boss.”

“I never forgot … And is that all?”

“For now.”

“Um, but … hmmph! … You’re so mean sometimes.” Gets me all wound up and just gives me love pats. Creates a whole nether regions situation and just leaves me to deal while she delights in watching me squirm. Damn but I love her and stuff. Wonder what it’s like to be normal? Probably must be horrible.

“But I’m so nice the rest of the time.”

“Are you just gonna sit there, or are you gonna kiss me and stuff.” I rolled off her lap and tried to affect my kinky minx pose. Know what destroys a kinky minx pose? Picking a wedgie. So my attempt came off more as my my-underwear-is-virtually-inside-my-butt pose.

She scortled. “You were so shy a moment ago.”

“Stop living in the past, Mary.” But in the present, still with the wedgie. Like … ow.

“My little hedonist,” Mary said before pouncing on me like a she-wolf. That’s what she is, ya know, a she-wolf, whereas I am just a (lusty) bunny trying to make my way through the big bad woods without getting eaten.

But I’d have to save getting eaten until we returned to the suburbs. I settled for getting kissed and petted, and now that I think on it, if Mary and me were a YouTube video, it would be one of those predator-loves-prey videos where people ooo and aww when a German shepherd takes care of a rabbit or goose (and everybody would call me a silly goose, which I am not – really!).

But that’s not what we got caught doing. “You have a leaf in your hair,” I said to Mary when we were done fooling around.

“You have a beautiful smile,” she said back and made me all snurfy and smol feeling and happy.

“You like me,” I said with my derpy-smile on. Mary gets to be beautiful and poised, and I get to be all flustered and derpy.

“Of course I do. That’s why I’m so mean to you.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “So let’s get your underpants on and we can go.”

“They’re already on,” I pointed out, and they’d even worked themselves free. Well, one side (yay progress!).

“Those are not age appropriate.”

“Well, duh! You picked them out … Stupid kittens.” Smiling at me from my panties like they’re right at home with another pus … anyhoo …

“And besides,” Mary continued without acknowledging my protest because she loves continuing without acknowledging my protest, “You couldn’t even keep them clean.”

“I did too! You’re just …”

“Mean. I know. And if they’re so clean, why don’t you peel them off and give them a sniff.”

“Ewww! We’ve been hiking and … And you put ‘em there.”

“Stop living in the past, Daffy,” she winked.

“Don’t you wink at me with your throwing my words back at me from like fifteen minutes ago.” That’s nine hundred whole seconds!

She crawled over to me on fours (cuz she’s a she-wolf) and kissed me on the cheek and then (such effrontery) tapped me on the nose and said, “You’re pretty when you’re pouty and flustered.” And then she kissed me again. “Stand up.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” I said as I stood up. I really need to have a word with my brain about doing what I say and not just what Mary says.

“Did I mention you’re a very good girl today?” Also, flattery has gotten Mary all the places and most of the things (okay, all the things, if I’m being honest).

“Marrry, why you gotta go pushing all my buttons?”

“Because we haven’t gone anywhere in a while, and I wanna make the very most of it.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “And because I like getting you hot and bothered and watching you squirm, and I know you like it, too.”

“Do not.” Except yep (mostly).

“I think your real fetish is playing hard to get. Just barely hard to get,” she added with a chuckle.

“I am, too, hard to get!”

“And your other fetish is just being oppositional.”

“It’s called bratting, Mary … And I’m not a brat.” Really!

“Ya know what else I think?”

“If I ask you and say please with extra sprinkles with a cherry on top will you tell me,” I said. A hint of sarcasm may have crept into my voice.

“I think when get home you’re gonna need to be paddled hard.”

“But … Yes’m.”

“Or we can do it on the way home at the rest stop.”

“Home is good,” I meeped. I love our home. Paddled at home sounds wonderful.

“If we have that resolved, gimme your feetsies.”

I grumbled as I complied. “Why are you taking my shoes off? Ya gonna give me a piggyback ride all the way to the car?”

“I’m gonna put you in a goodnite so you don’t piddle on the trail on the way back.”

“O. Better than a diaper I guess.”

“We’ll save the diaper for the car.”

“But I don’t need it for the car … Or anywhere!” Nor a Goodnite to not piddle on the trail! Really!

“I’ll make a deal with you,” she said as she got my shoes off. “If you can keep your pullup dry all the way back to the car, you can wear it home. Won’t that be fun?”

“Subhrumuhmininder ressefraiter.”

“What?”

“I was grumbling!”

“Lay back.” Which I did, and Mary reached up under my skirt and took my panties down. “Bet it feels good to have these yucky underoos off.”

“They felt fine until you pulled them up to my brain.”

“And now I’ll pulled them down to your ankles. The universe balances. Lift those hips.”

This is the part where I blacked out. Or wish I had. But things did go black for a minute. I was lifting my hips and all of a sudden, Mary’s eyes got big and she threw the blanket over me, or the half of the blanket I wasn’t laying on.

“Hi,” Mary said to … someone.

“Hi,” someone said back. “Good day for it.”

O my god, make your inane small talk walking and fast.

“Yep.”

“So …”

“Well, nice chatting with you.”

Go the fuck away!

“Bye.”

What’s happening?

“They’re leaving,” Mary whispered.

“Can I come out?”

“Wait until they’re around the bend … okay, quick.”

Mary ninjaed me. There was a blinding light, and when it went away, I was wearing a goodnite. How does she do that? It’s not nice to keep secrets from your wife, and, darn it, I wanna be a ninja too.

I got a very quick hug, and Mary ninjaed our stuff into the pack while I got my shoes on. We hiked pretty damn fast in the direction of the Subaru with Mary looking behind us every few minutes.

“I think we’re okay, Mary.” Like, the person wasn’t creepy so far as I could tell. They wanted to chat, but it didn’t seem dangerous (at least not from under the blanket).

“Quicker, Daff.”

“You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Let’s just get out of here.”

It took us two hours to walk there, and we did the return trip in less than an hour and a half. We encountered other people, and if Mary was feeling unsafe, she didn’t say anything to them or seem to feel less unsafe because we weren’t alone. I couldn’t get a word out of her other than, “We’ll talk about it at the car.”

So when we did get to the car, we were soaked with sweat (and bear in mind, I don’t sweat; I glisten; but I was soaked with sweat), a little out of breath, and tired. We dumped our stuff in the back, where we had also put a cooler with some cold drinks for when we got back because Mary still won’t go in a store to get stuff.

I sat down on our tailgate and quaffed by Gatorade. Much of said Gatorade ended up on my shirt when Mary threw her arms around me like, well, the way I throw my arms around her (but her arms are bigger than mine).

“Mary, what’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry (sniff). Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I gave her a kiss on her hair. “Don’t get all teary. I’m fine.”

“That was my fault.”

“We pressed our luck once too often.”

“But you didn’t even want to.”

“I didn’t red light either.”

“I’m supposed to keep you safe.”

“I am safe.” I kissed her again. “We’re both fine.”

She took a big sniff and kissed me. “When we get home, I’m giving you a bath and putting you in your jammies.”

“You are such a silly goose,” I told her. “Want me to drive?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Can we stop and get ice cream.”

“Ha. Drive through.”

“See, you do take good care of me.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”