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The Mary and Daphne Series #6
🕑 Added 2019-08-10 18:07:33 +0000 UTC
Thinking back on it, I can see how silly it would’ve looked to anyone who didn’t understand us. Mary, fully dressed and sitting on our bed. Me, in socks and a t-shirt and nothing else. When Mary had said to hold on while I was getting dressed, all of three minutes ago, I thought it was for a pair of my little girl undies.
I saw Mary last weekend saying something to Sandy alone while I was parked on that concrete. I don’t think I saw them exchange anything, but then I was mostly focused on my butt going from hot to roasted on the pool deck. My god, did the water feel good when my timeout was over. Anyway, apparently they did exchange something.
“They will, too, fit, you silly goose,” Mary admonished me. I didn’t want them to fit. I didn’t want them at all. Sandy is always giving Mary evil ideas. “Lift your feet.”
“Ohhhgh,” I responded and stomped my feet instead, folded my arms across my chest, pouted my lips and declared, “No! I don’t wanna wear stupid pullups. I wanna wear my regular panties!”
“Daphne, these are you’re your regular panties today,” Mary said to me in a voice that was trying to be nice but was clearly running out of patience.
“Where did this even come from? This is so out of the blue!”
“I know,” Mary chuckled. “Consider it a surprise.”
“You are so mean sometimes!”
“Well, think of it this way, if you have an accident …”
“I don’t have accidents!” What healthy 30-year-old has accidents?
“If you have an accident,” Mary continued, ignoring me and raising her voice, “it won’t be obvious to every at the winery.”
“Did you rehearse this with Sandy or something? Is this some new game?” One of Mary’s fun tricks – dropping some advent to our relationship out of the sky to see how I’ll react. It keeps things fresh, and sometimes, but not always, she’ll back off if she sees I’m really not into it. Other times, she’ll try to be nice and gently coax me into it, and failing that, she’ll just remind me she’s in charge and tell me to deal or else.
“I just think that before we go out today it will help you to remember to behave, and since you’ve been acting like such a little girl lately, I thought these might help you remember more than the panties.”
“I have not been acting like a little girl,” I whined.
“What about at Brenna’s pool party last weekend?”
“He splashed me first!” The only consolation I had that day was that while I was sitting directly on the hot concrete on a freshly spanked butt as extra punishment, I got to watch him get spanked too.
“That argument didn’t work when I was baring your bottom last weekend, so why do you think it will work now?”
“Can’t I … ughh.” I’ll admit I get frustrated and have a hard time holding it in, and when I let it out I don’t express it so productively. I took a deep breath to calm myself down. “I’ll just wear a pair of punishment panties.” I tried not to sound whiny, but I definitely, definitely did.
“Daphne Anne, I am done having this conversation. You are wearing this pullup to the winery, that’s all there is to it. Now, lift your feet.” I looked away. “Don’t make me tell you a third time.” I took a breath and pushed it out in a huff. I wasn’t giving in this time.
Before two beats, my feet were in the air as Mary bodily hoisted me up and laid me across her knee. “No!”
“Do you have anything to say to me,” Mary asked. A ‘sorry’ wouldn’t make a difference, I knew. She was looking for our safe word. We’re sorta past that (she just knows my threshold), but when it’s something new like this, she still asks.
“I’m sorry?”
“You will be.” Mary reached for the paddle she keeps on my nightstand. Always there, always reminding me. I keep thinking one day it’s going to break, but it never does.
“Why do you always have to be so naughty – SMACK – on the weekends – SPANK – the only time – SMACK SMACK – we can have a – SPANK – whole – SPANK – day – SMACK – together?”
Did she really feel that way, or was she just saying that? I don’t mean to be.
“When will you – SPANK! – learn – SPANK!! – to do as I say – SMACK – the first time – SPANK – I say it?” Mary may start a spanking while she lectures, but she quickly stops the lecture and switched to lighting my butt on fire.
“I’ll wear the pullup,” I said, hoping submitting would avoid a full-on punishment.
“What?”
“I’ll wear the pullup.” SMACK!
“Why?”
“Because you told me to.” And then Mary helped me back to my feet. She picked up the pullup and bent over to hold it open for me.
“Feet,” Mary said, I picked up my feet one at a time and stepped into the pullup. Mary slid it into place and patted me between my legs and over my pubic mound, then turned me around and did the same to my butt. “See? It fits just fine. Do you want to wear a skirt or shorts today?”
“Skirt,” I whispered without looking up. Mary cocked her head to the side.
“Honey?”
“Do I really spoil our weekends,” I asked. I didn’t think I did, but then she said that, but sometimes she says things while spanking me just to add to the headspace, but I didn’t know if she meant it or not.
Mary reached out and pulled me close. “No, baby, you don’t.” She kissed me. “I love our weekends together. I’m sorry I said that.”
“Wanna make it up to me?”
“How,” Mary replied with a twinkle in her eye. The winery wasn’t going anywhere.
“Let me take off this pullup.” SWAT! Of well, worth a shot.
“Nice try, little girl.”
I don’t know why the pullup was so distracting. It did fit fine and didn’t feel uncomfortable. It was thicker than my panties, obviously, but it didn’t make me waddle or anything. It was just there. While we were touring the vineyard, it was there. While we were touring the winery, it was there. In the tasting room, there. On the veranda, while we ate hummus and veggies from the garden and drank their wine, it was there. I was only half enjoying myself because the other half kept thinking, “It’s there!”
I considered going to the lady’s room and taking it off, and to my credit I thought two steps ahead of that and pictured myself back in that lady’s room getting my butt warmed as soon as Mary found out, and she of the wandering hands would definitely find out. And that would be to say nothing of the spanking I’d get when we got home. So I was stuck in the pullup at least until we got home. Okay. So how do I avoid pullups in the future?
At this point, I’ll admit to having had a little too much wine. Long story short, I peed it. I thought if I peed it, Mary would be all squicked out – I certainly was – and that would be that. No more pullups. It wasn’t easy, but I managed, and I think I managed discretely, and I’ll admit it felt not terrible – warm liquid down there always feels good, but I urine – ew. At least it didn’t feel all wet and clammy.
We finished our lunch, and we had an hour-drive home ahead of us. We paid our bill. “Let’s use the restroom before we go,” Mary said.
“I’m good.” I figured I’d rather spring this surprise on her at home.
“Nonsense. You always have to go.” I do. Tiny bladder. So not a big deal, right? I’ll just go in, pretend to pee, wash my hands, and voila. We walked back inside toward the restrooms near the entrance.
“You first,” Mary said and gave me a gentle swat. Well, shit.
I froze. Mary froze. I started to move again, but it was too late. Mary reached around me to open the door, put her right hand on my shoulder, and guided me inside with her on my heels, locking the door behind us.
I stood stock still. I blushed so hard I felt lightheaded, or maybe I just felt lightheaded because of how unreal this was. Maybe I didn’t think so far ahead after all. I intended to just tell Mary later. I didn’t expect her to find out like this.
Mary walked around me to my front. Her forehead was wrinkled in confusion and surprise. Her eyebrows were arched. She knelt in front of me and flipped up my skirt. I looked at the ceiling and bit my lip. I felt her hand between my thighs.
“Huh.” That’s what Mary said. Just, ‘huh.’ And then she flipped my skirt back down and straightened up.
I ran through excuses in my head. The truth – I did it so you’d never make me wear pullups again – would get me spanked then and there. I at least knew that. I could hardly claim it was an accident, which is not to say this one time in college when I had way, way too much to drink I hadn’t done that, but I just a little tipsy.
Mary’s face was inscrutable. That concerned look faded slowly, and her eyes got brighter, and then she smiled and laughed at me. I didn’t like that. “Okay,” she said while suppressing a giggle, “what happened?”
My eyes were looking everywhere but at Mary’s. “Um, I was curious?”
“Uh huh.”
“And then I did it, so there,” I pouted.
“No need to be like that.”
“You’re laughing at me!”
“Oh, honey, no I’m not. I think it’s cute.” Aw, crap! That was the exact opposite of what I was trying to accomplish. “I knew you’d like it if you tried it.”
I didn’t say that. “I didn’t say that!” I didn’t!
“Oh, you are just too adorable when you’re embarrassed!”
“I don’t like it.”
“You don’t?” She leaned in close to me and put her hand back under my skirt, pushing that warm pullup against me and pressing her fingers into the soft padding.
“Well – ugh – I – hmmmm,” I shook my head and tried to get my knees to stop wobbling. “I … not really.” Mary took her hand away.
“That’s too bad,” she said as she reached into her purse. Instead of the dreaded paddle, she pulled out a now-dreaded pullup. “Because after your little experiment, if that’s what it really was, I’m definitely not letting you go without one all the way home.”
I closed my eyes and did my best to hold in my annoyance. “I don’t want it,” I whined.
“You didn’t want that one, either.”
“I don’t need it!”
“Said Little Miss Potty Pants.”
“That’s not fair!” A knock on the door interrupted whatever Mary was about to say.
“Just a few minutes,” Mary called out. “That person is going to hear a paddling if you don’t cooperate. Shoes.” I decided to just cooperate because the only other alternative was getting my butt warmed again, and I’d still end up in a pullup
I took off my shoes and stood on them – no way was I putting my socks on the bathroom floor. “Hold up your skirt.” I held it up, and Mary ripped the side of my pullup – no, the pullup, not mine; in fact, hers, I decided – and pulled it out from between my legs. She looked inside at the yellowed padding. “It could hold more,” Mary said as though she were talking to herself. I started to lower my skirt. “Not yet.”
Mary reached over and pulled some toilet paper free. “Spread your legs a little, honey.” I did and she wiped me off. “Oh yeah,” she chuckled, “I can see how much you’re hating this.” Like that was a fair assessment!
“Feet,” she said, and for the second time that day she was sliding a pullup up my legs, making sure it was seated snuggly. With my skirt back down, Mary gave me a knowing pat on my – no, her! – pullup. “Some of us still use the big girl potty. Want me to show you how?”
I huffed at her and washed my hands and left, squeezing through the door and getting a very dirty look from the woman who was waiting. “She needs a minute,” I said.
When Mary came out, she also apologized, in her oh-so-special way. “Sorry we took so long,” Mary said. “I had to help her change into dry undies.” And as my jaw dropped, Mary reached over and patted my butt. She took my hand and tugged me toward our Subaru.
“Why did you say that,” I whined. She stopped walking and took both my hands, leaned over, and kissed me hard.
“Because I know a little humiliation gets your little engine revving, we’re going straight to bed when we get home.”
I hate it when Mary is right.
