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The Mary and Daphne Series - #7
🕑 Added 2019-08-13 02:33:58 +0000 UTC
Scene #7
“Hey,” my friend, Jane, said to me. We were at a party. Someone from the scene was hosting it. It wasn’t a play party. Just a couple who led a small Fetlife groups and were having some people over for the evening. Really, it’s a wonderful thing for them to do. “I heard a rumor about you,” Jane told me.
“What’s that?”
“I heard you wear pullups now.”
“Did Sandy tell you that? I don’t.”
Mary walked up from behind us, startling me with a hand on my shoulder. “Only when I make her. Is your mommy here, Jane?”
“No, she had to work,” Jane said. Mary gave her a once over.
“You look awfully cute tonight.” Jane is a little, a real one, dedicated to the lifestyle. She works, of course, but Lisa, her mommy, is definitely the head of the household. “I wish Daphne would let me do her hair like that.”
“I don’t like my hair grown out,” I said. Jane does have the most beautiful, thick, blonde hair, and she often wears it braided. It would work on her even if she wasn’t a little.
I believe the name for the grin that came over Jane’s face is known as “shit-eating” or possibly “Cheshire Cat” in more polite circles. “Well, ya know,” Jane said, “Mommy says until I grow up I’ll wear my hair the way she tells me to or she’ll put her hairbrush to work some other way.”
“What way is that,” Mary innocently asked.
“Oh, I forget what she calls it, but she uses the flat part and bounces it off my butt really hard. It hurts a lot.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Mary said, “that’s called a ‘spanking.’ Don’t feel bad though. Girls a lot older than you get them, too. Like Daphne here.”
“Who wants more appetizers,” I asked.
“Really,” Jane asked, “I thought she was a big girl.”
“Those egg rolls were good. I wonder who made them.”
“She thinks so, too, but big girls know how to behave themselves, unlike Daphne.”
“I think I’ll go start a kitchen fire,” I said, wondering at what point they’d acknowledge me again. “And then drive the car through house and into the back yard.”
“Will I still get – what did you call them, spankings? – when I’m her age?”
“Probably not, sweetie. You’re a much better girl.”
“Okay,” I said, finally irritated. “Please stop, both of you.”
Mary turned back to me, at last. “Sorry, kiddo. Just teasing.” She reached over and gave me a squeeze. Jane was smiling at me as if to say haha, and then she stuck her tongue out at me. Every once in a while people will mistake me for a little. A middle, maybe (really, why even label it? I’m just me.). But as much as I like Jane, and we are friends and do regular people stuff all the time, I never could stand bratting from a little. I know it’s playful, but I also feel like sometimes being a little is used as a license to start shit.
“She …” I started to say, and then stopped. And the thing about littles bratting is it has a tendency to bring out the brat in me, too. So I bit my tongue, realizing how ridiculous it would be for me to tattle on Jane for sticking her tongue out at me. Mary looked from me back to the innocent looking Jane.
“You two play nice,” Mary said. “I’m gonna go say hi to Franklin.”
Fast forward two hours. It’s about 10:30. There’s still about fifteen people there, including Jane.
“I think that’s enough,” Mary said as she took a drink out of my hand. “You don’t want you to be hungover tomorrow.” I didn’t care. That’s just one of the things Mary does for me. She also does it with chocolate and pizza and pornography.
“Does she wet the bed if she has too much,” Jane asked. She was a drink past tipsy, too.
“You, too, little girl,” Mary said to her, and took her glass. I guess someone was giving her a ride or she was calling an Uber.
“You’re not my mommy,” Jane said.
“Hey,” I shot back. “Could you cool it with the bratting for like, five seconds?”
“Daphne,” Mary admonished me. “No need to snap.”
“Ha,” Jane honked.
“And that’s enough from you, too,” Mary scolded her. “What would your mommy say?”
“She’s not here.”
“Drunk littles are the worst,” I said as I put my head back against the couch. Mary gently smacked me on the thigh.
“Then stop egging her on. And you,” she said, turning her attention back to Jane. “I will text your mommy right now if you don’t behave.”
Enough is enough, so I just said it. “Oh for god sake, Mary, she wants you to spank her. Just do it already!”
“Alright,” Mary said, spotting an opening and running for it like a linebacker. “Both of you.” She turned to the hostess, who was seated on the opposite couch watching with interest. “Can I use your bedroom?”
“What did I do? That is such bullshit,” I protested.
“Daphne!”
“You can’t,” Jane whined.
“Please do,” our hostess said.
“If I call your mommy right now, what would she say,” Mary asked Jane.
That seemed to settle Jane down. “She’d tell you to spank me.” Well, duh, because Lisa had spanked me, and Mary had spanked Jane on more than one occasion.
“Daphne, my purse is by the door.”
“No, seriously,” I said, “what did I do?”
“You’ve been bickering right back with her.”
“She’s been acting like a bratty five year old!”
“And you’ve been acting like a bratty teenager,” Mary said as she stood up and took Jane by the elbow. “Scoot,” she said to me.
I stood up, knowing way better than to say no, and when I did I realized just how tipsy I was. I wasn’t wobbling or anything, but I was definitely not fit to drive. The stairway was by the door, so we all walked over there, I got Mary’s purse, and then I followed them upstairs and into the master bedroom.
“You want want to act like little girls,” Mary asked as she sat down on the edge of the bed, “Fine. Daphne,” she added, pointing at the floor to her left. I stood there while she undid Jane’s jeans and pulled them down to her ankles along with her undies. I couldn’t help but notice they were black satin. I looked at Jane, whose lips were quivering. She was in her headspace.
“Your turn,” Mary said, taking her purse from me and putting it on the bed. And just like that, Jane and I were twins from the waist down, except my panties were cotton with Care Bears on them. “Daphne, find a corner and put your nose in it.”
“Can I close the door,” I asked.
“No,” she said as she took the crying Jane over her knee. She reached for her purse, took out her paddle, and started spanking. I only heard it. Jane was sobbing. And then it was over. Huh?
“There, there baby,” Mary was cooing. “It’s all over. Can you sit up?” My head was spinning. How did … what? Seriously? I heard feet shuffling across the carpet. I heard a kiss on a cheek.
“You stay right here in time out until I come get you,” Mary said. And then she took my arm, tugged me out of the corner, and put Jane in. Somehow, Jane looked spent.
That was about all I could take, because I knew damn well the spanking I was about to get would be a lot worse. I mean, if two people get in trouble for bickering, shouldn’t they get the same punishment? That’s only fair. “Are you serious,” I said. “What was that? Was that even ten?”
“Daphne,” Mary said to me with an angry cloud settling over her head. “She’s just a little girl.” Mary started tugging me toward the bed
“But she’s not! She’s two years older than me!” Which, when you think about it, has nothing to do with anything since women in their thirties don’t get spanked at all, except kinky little monkeys like me and Jane.
“And she learned her lesson already.”
“Because she’s a little,” I reasoned while Mary was tipping me over her knee. “She cries when you take away her cookie! Ow! Ow! OW!!” And you can imagine how it went from there.
“She is a little,” Mary lectured as she wailed on my butt. “And all you had to do to avoid this spanking was not take her bait. You should know better.” I was crying now and pretty darn sober as I arched my back and did my very best not to squirm across the bed to get away from that paddle. Not that I could anyway because Mary had her usual firm grip around my middle. I don’t understand how people can take the kind of spanking Mary can dish out and just hold perfectly still the whole time.
Or be quiet, which I was not. “Okay,” I moaned. “I’m sorry!” Which did not make the spanking stop. “I’ll be good,” I tried instead. Which also didn’t work. OW! Thighs! THIGHS! “Waaahhhh!” That wasn’t an attempt to make it stop. That was genuine.
And Mary stopped. “Are you going to act your age now?”
“Yes.”
SMACK! Mary always gives me one more before letting me up. I call it The Exclamation Mark. I so wanted to rub my butt and knew I wasn’t allowed to. I never count, but I knew I had gotten many multiples of the patty cake session Jane got. Mary hugged me.
“Can the two of you behave for the rest of the party?”
“Yes,” we both said.
“You can turn around now,” Mary said to Jane as she bent over to pull my undies and jeans back up. Then she crossed the room to Jane and did the same for her.
“Go wash your faces and come back downstairs,” Mary instructed us.
When we got back downstairs, we got a lot of knowing looks and smiles. I sat down on the couch with a wince. Jane brought me a glass of coke and flopped down next to me, apparently not feeling her spanking at all anymore. She was smiling ear to ear and, not entirely to my surprise, snuggled up next to me and put her head on my chest.
“Seriously?” Gee, I’d been saying that a lot that night.
“Yep. Can you still go shopping on Wednesday?”
“Yes,” I sighed as I started to play with her hair. “Troublemaker.”
“I can’t help it. I’m just a little.”
“One of these days I’m gonna spank you like you deserve it,” I told her, “And it will totally be worth the butt blistering I get for doing it.”
Maybe if I lean into my ‘middle-ness’ I can get away with stuff like that. Probably not.
