Mary and Daphne #87

It was months ago now that I finally accused Mary of being a big and started wondering where that came from and when it started, and she had done a very good job avoiding the subject. Good if not always subtle, “Like, Mary, how did you get interested in ageplay?”

And Mary’s good but not subtle evasion was, “Over my knee.”

“Why? I didn’t do anything?” She didn’t exactly give me a choice or a satisfactory explanation (“You’re a red head.” Ginger prejudice in my own house! Besides, I’m a day walker.)

I don’t why she won’t just talk about it. She said before it’s because she thought ageplay goes so well with our domestic discipline and humiliation kinks, and I agree that it does, but that was more to do with her sudden interest in absorbent undergarments and not so much with the general ageplay. Or maybe her interest in absorbent undergarments wasn’t so sudden, but if I can’t get her to talk about her ageplay interest, I doubt she’ll come clean on just how long ago her Daphne–in–diapers kink originated.

I turned to my unpublished journals from years past (tentatively titled I Don’t Wanna Be a Little Girl, copyright, boilerplate, boilerplate, forthcoming in late 2022, maybe) to see if somewhere in our history there was a moment the ageplay thing started, because we’ve been together almost seven years and married for almost three, and the ageplay started before we got married, subtly for sure, but also I’m sure of that (don’t question my sentence structure). I mean, she started calling me little girl not long after we became an item, but that’s not the same as ageplay.

What I came up with was a scene we did at a play party put on by the same kink group we did that humiliation demonstration for, in The Before Times when we could do stuff like that. We’d been dating for a year, so we were past the point of Mary only spanking me in negotiated scenes but before I told her I wanted to go full lifestyle, and an acquaintance named Catherine wanted to arrange a group scene with some other spanking couples. Mary and me were quite happy to oblige. Sorta the point of play parties, and this party was a monthly thing in a big warehouse event space so we could do our thing and people could do whatever else elsewhere.

The scene Catherine wanted to do was a school principal scene. Right away that’s kinda ageplay, but if we define ageplay as getting off on any woman in a cheerleader outfit then every person ever would qualify as an ageplayer, so it wasn’t that. Nor did Catherine want to spank me or my fellow bottoms’ bottoms. She wanted to sit back and, well, maybe it’s better shown than told.

I was facing a wall along with four of my “friends.” Well, we were friends or at least friendly, but in our scene, we were school friends. The five of us, three women and two boys, were caught skipping class and smoking reefer (did I mention Catherine was, like, sixty when we did this scene?), and our parents (tops and dommes) had been called to school to deal with us.

“I’ve given them demerits, detentions, kept them after, and even had the janitors put them to work, but nothing is getting through to them,” Assistant Principal for Discipline and No Fun Catherine told our dominants. “I’ve paddled each of them multiple times with as many swats as the district allows. That’s why each of you is here, to do what I can’t.”

Now, I was facing the wall with my hands on my head like a good girl. We didn’t go so far as to give ourselves back stories, but since I am a good rule follower, I blamed the others for leading me astray. Peer pressure is a bitch, amiright? I didn’t know everyone Catherine had talked into doing this, but I did know Brenna and Tommy, who was standing several “friends” down, and it was Brenna who asked, “And what exactly is that?”

“Paddle them like they deserve it. The district only allows me to administer five swats to clothed bottoms. As their parents, I expect you to do a much more thorough job on their bare behinds right here and right now, or I’ll have no choice but to suspend them.”

Kinda makes you wonder what happened to Catherine back in the day. I have some theories.

I won’t bore you with the details, partly because I wasn’t allowed to turn around. I guess I was learning by audio example, though I did have the (enjoyable) misfortune of listening with my panties around my knees and my skirt flipped part way up (that was Mary’s contribution to the scene set up. Thanks, Mary!). Not that I’m an exhibitionist, but the whole humiliation thing and what I imagine were other party goers watching our predicament had me a wee bit jittery. Not my first time getting paddled at a play party or in front of others or bare in front of others, but no matter how many times, it’s a rush. There are butterflies in my tummy and arousal in places and just a little bit of fear even though I’m kinda old hat at all this (wherever that expression came from).

As it happens and without me noticing it, we were lined up on the wall from tallest to not tallest, which left me at the very end, which is kind of bullshit because I’m a very tall five–foot–two. Also, I guess that was Catherine’s doing. Just goes to show some people have some very particular fantasies. The tallest got to go first, so I got listen as each “parent” collected their “naughty student” and put their own spin on the scene. Certain phrases, well, I guess pretty much every spanko has certain phrases that get their motor running. I think I heard them all.

“I had to leave work early to come deal with you.”

“I can’t believe how you’ve embarrassed me.”

“Wait til your father gets home.”

“Who do you think you are?”

“Don’t you get spanked enough at home?” (I personally like that one a lot).

“I can’t believe I have to paddle you at your age.”

“I thought the days of spanking your bottom were behind me.”

And a lot of young lady this and young man that and “Please not here!” and “Not in front of my friends!” and “Please not bare!”

And none of that has anything to do with why I think this is the earliest sign of Mary’s transformation into a big. That’s all just standard school spanking scene stuff. Just about every spanko enjoys that, and it was all just to make a scene.

No, what makes me suspicious that this was a turning point is what happened when it was my turn. I listened to four other bottoms get the mischief paddled out of them. Two cried! And that wasn’t because of the scene. They got paddled like spanking fetishists getting spanked by spanking fetishists, which is to say damn!!! They got it good.

I was tingly with all the feelings – nervous, excited, aroused. All the anticipation. I was practically buzzing, not to mention ready to play my part as the spunky one who takes responsibility for none of it. I was led astray by the bad ones. I’m a good girl! Let them try to make me admit my own guilt if they dare. I’d prove to them I was too strong, and I’d prove to my fiends I could take way more than they got.

“Your turn,” Mary said as she took me by the elbow and turned me around. We had quite the audience, including my four battered partners in imaginary crime.

“But I didn’t do anything,” I said. Brat power! It’s not for every Domme. It takes a special one, like Mary, to not just put up with up but handle it. I like being handled, and Mary likes to handle me (which is why she always has her hands all over me). Back to our scene …

“I don’t want to hear it, Daphne Ann. I have had enough of your excuses.” She swatted my butt over to the table that was serving as the principal’s desk. On top of the table, Catherine’s school paddle. With big drilled holes. I looked upon it with trepidation and a hankerin’ for some spankerin’. What do the young people call that today? Thirst? I was parched.

“Daphne is the most willful of the five,” Catherine said. “The girl is incorrigible and refuses to take responsibility for herself.”

“We’ll straighten that out right now.” Mary sat down in one of the chairs. “Over my knee.”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Taylor, but this needs to be a paddling. Please bend her over the desk like the others.”

Me? I was just decoration for this part. At least at first. This was all Mary and Catherine, beginning with Mary’s, “I think a firm spanking will be sufficient.”

“That wouldn’t be fair to the others.”

“How they choose to handle their kids is their business.”

“I’m afraid I have to insist.”

“I know how to deal with her. Daphne, over.”

“I’ve paddled her on three separate occasions, and none of them have gotten through. I hardly think a hand spanking will do the trick.”

Standing nose to the wall with my butt hanging out for all to see? Okay. Not really self–conscious about it; I may even admit to liking it, especially since I already admitted to liking it.

Me standing there awkwardly with Mary deciding to argue her point in front of a crowd? Yeah, that got me feeling self–conscious. For one, Mary was kinda hijacking the scene, which is not very nice kink etiquette. For twosies, I felt a lot smaller than five–foot–two when Mary said, “Look at her! She’s not big enough for the paddle!”

This, from a woman who had paddled me many, many times by then, including at that very event in (lovely) only recently bygone days. And I am, too, big enough for the paddle! She was only saying that to embarrass me, and it worked.

“Mary,” I said under my breath, rejoining the scene as more than living (and blushing) statuary, “you’re embarrassing me.”

“Hush, sweetie. I’ll handle this.”

Before she could resume her monologue with Catherine, I interjected with, “Just paddle me.”

“Honey, I said I’ll handle this.”

“But I am, too, big enough for the paddle.” I have my pride, weird as its sources may be. Don’t be telling the whole kink club I can’t take the paddle! And did I mention I like getting paddled? Well, some of the time. But all the time when I’m not actually in trouble. Really. (Like, realllly. Gah! With the feelings in the places with the things. Mmmmmm.)

Catherine jumped back in with, “Even the girl knows she needs a good, hard paddling. If you didn’t coddle her …”

“How dare you!” Mary missed her calling as an actress. She’d have won an Oscar for that scene. Or at least The Golden Dildo (which is an award I just made up and now I want one … or just gold. Just send gold … and jewels).

“Mary, I just wanna get this over with. Just paddle me like my friends.” I’d have won The Brass Butt. You know it’s a good scene when you forget you’re doing a scene. I started to bend myself over the table, but Mary didn’t let me. She reached out and plucked me right off my feet and over her knee.

“I said no, Daphne.” SPANK. “You’re too little for the paddle. You’ll take your spanking like a good little girl and like it!”

“I’m not too little!”

And forgetting I was in a scene, the thought of my friends making fun of me for getting spanked over Mary’s knee like a kid instead of paddled flashed through my head, prompting me to try to get up (which I don’t really do. Ever. Might have to chase me down sometimes and hold me still, but once I’m over a knee, I (pretty much) stay there). “My friends’ll make funna me!”

“They should make fun of you! (SPANK) A girl your age behaving the way you do, you should be embarrassed. (SPANK) If you acted your age, you wouldn’t need spankings at all (SPANK). But you didn’t and you do, so I will put you (SPANK) over my knee (SPANK) like a little girl (SPANK SPANK) until you don’t need your bottom warmed (SPANK SPANK) or until you do get big enough for the paddle (SPANK SPANK SPANK). Do you (SPANK) understand me (SPANK)?”

“Yes. Ow! I understand!”

Which is when my world got turned right side up, literally. I went from draped over Mary’s knee looking at her upside-down ankles to sitting on Mary’s lap looking directly into her eyes. “Do you understand why I had to spank your bare bottom?”

I about did a double take. I looked right in her eye, and yep, she was serious. That was all the spanking I was getting for the same (imaginary) misbehavior that got my friends blistered with a (nasty friggin’) paddle. They had bright red and purple bruises; my butt was pink. Heck, my ears were blushing a deeper shade! And some of them really are my friends! And other friends were watching!

And a bunch of strangers were watching, but it was the friends that bothered me. They knew I could take the paddle! I can take whips and wax and chains, and they saw me get spanked and scolded like a little kid and not the fearsome, iron-bottomed warrior–brat–amazon–queen I am!

I looked away from Mary and saw people smiling and not in a way I liked. They were laughing at me! They really were making funna me!!!

And Catherine was not happy. I could see her not–happy face out of the corner of my eye as Mary stared very intently at me and I stared back. “That is not an acceptable punishment for her misbehavior,” Catherine said, still thinking we had anything to do with her scene. She was mad, and people were smiling at me, and I heard someone call me adorable, and my lip started getting pouty all on its own (traitor), and Mary brushed my hair out of my face and nodded. She just nodded.

I sucked in a big breath, buried my face in Mary’s sweater, and sobbed. I absolutely sobbed. Mary put one arm around my waist and the other around my shoulder so she was pressing my face into her chest and just whispered, “You’re okay. Let it all out. Mary’s got you.”

Which is when I lost it. I bawled. Hard.

“I’ll never let anyone decide how I discipline you, Daffodil. You’re all mine.”

Actually, nope. That was when I lost it.

“Butiwunagetaddled,” I sobbed.

“That means you don’t decide either, little girl. You’re too little for the paddle.”

“I am not,” I sob–whined.

“Tonight you are, because I say you are.”

Hoo boy. Had I been spanked to tears at a play party? Of course. Except this time I didn’t get spanked to tears. I got embarrassed to tears, then I got loved to sobs, and then I bawled until there was snot. (You think it’s funny, but it snot … I just had to say that.)

“But – hhh! – ev–er–y–one – hhh hhh – will–make–fun–a–me,” I said, trying to get my breathing under control and my diaphragm to stop cramping.

“Let ‘em try, Daffy. I protect you now.”

Yeah, nope. That’swhen I lost it. Or lost it a third time. I don’t even know.

“Is she okay,” Catherine asked, having moved around to kneel down next to us.

“She’s fine. She’s just gotta cry it out … Told you she didn’t need the paddle to learn her lesson.”

Catherine, I guess, thought it would be nice of her if she reached out and patted my shoulder. Ya know how it’s rude to hijack someone’s scene? You do not touch someone getting aftercare. Maybe she thought that rule didn’t apply because I was having a total meltdown that, to an outsider who wasn’t me or Mary, looked like something much more than some scene drop, but nope. Just no. Mary has two hands, and I knew where both of them were, and feeling some strange third one made me almost knock Mary over as I, somehow, managed to get even closer to her despite already being in complete physical contact with her. She just squeezed me tighter.

“Shh shhh shhh. I got you. You’re okay.”

Um, she couldn’t prove that. Also, I’m glad she thought so, because I didn’t. I was good and freaked out by myself. In fact, I had pretty much given up any responsibility for my state of being. I stayed just like that, sitting on Mary’s lap with my face buried in her shirt clinging to her and weepy, with a party going on around me and people giving us a wide berth, until Mary said, “Okay, baby. Let’s get you home and into bed.”

I didn’t record my response for posterity, but if memory serves, I went, “Snnnnffffurlfle. Snurlf!”

“But maybe let’s go to the lady’s room and blow your nose first,” Mary chuckled.

It was a quiet car ride home. We took a shower together for efficiency’s sake and got in bed, and only after the light was out did and I could hide safely in the dark did I say, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For making a scene and sobbing all over you.” I didn’t record it in my diary, but I’m pretty sure that was the first time I slimed her shirt.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d get so upset. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I don’t even know why.”

“Was it too much,” she asked. She sounded worried she’d pushed me too far, gone overboard with the humiliation. That’s my Mary – she seemed so confident at the party like she knew exactly what she was doing and what I needed, but even the most confident dommes are feeling their way. A year together isn’t so long. “It didn’t seem like … was it something specific that got you so upset?”

“You nodded.”

“When?”

“When you put me in your lap and said it was over.”

“That’s what set you off?”

“Put me over the edge … You nodded. I don’t know why that got to me.”

“How were you feeling right before I nodded?”

“Humiliated. Everyone was laughing at me.”

“They were not.”

“Some of them were. Why didn’t you paddle me?”

“I was going to. I thought you’d sass me, and then I was going to bend you over that table. Instead your little lip started quivering, and you made sad puppy dog eyes at me.”

“I was embarrassed. All those people thought I couldn’t take the paddle. You spanked me like a little kid.”

“Not the first time I put you over my knee.”

“But everyone else got paddled. I felt … small.”

“Did I hurt your feelings? I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. And no. Just felt … I don’t know. Emotional for some reason. Did I scare you?”

“A little, at first. Everything I said just made you cry harder.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It was my fault. I guess you needed a good cry.”

“You were …”

“What?”

“Being so … nice to me. Like it was okay.”

“Like what was okay?”

“Bawling. Making a scene.”

“Because it is okay. It’s okay to cry.”

“Not like that.”

“Who says? You needed to. I’m just glad it was me who made you do it.”

“What!? Why?”

“So I could be there to comfort you.”

“I think that’s what made me cry so hard.”

“Me comforting you made you cry harder? Silly goose.”

“It’s not silly … I felt …”

“What did you feel?”

“Really loved,” I said, and was kinda embarrassed to say it out loud.

“O, Daffy. That’s because I really love you.”

“Did you mean what you said?”

“What did I say?”

“That you protect me now.”

“Of course I meant it. You’re mine. That’s what it means when you belong to someone.”

And her saying that just made all the feelings happen. Oooof. And I thought, we belong to each other.“Roll over,” I told her.

“Why?”

“I wanna be the big spoon.”

“But you’re too little,” she giggled.

“Am not.”

Yep, that was the turning point. According to my diary, it wasn’t long after that that Mary surprised me with a pair of panties from a junior miss department. They had ponies on them, according to my records. I didn’t like them, but when Mary held them out and told me to step in, I did. I didn’t know that was just one of some very early baby steps toward what is today our ageplay–but–don’t–call–it–that relationship.

And ever since, Mary has been my protector.

Also in my records – I AM NOT A LITTLE GIRL AND I AM NOT TOO LITTLE FOR THE PADDLE! REALLY!!! HMMMPH!!!!