Mastering Maeve

by Tara Finnegan

  “So what is it?” Maeve asked.

  “Stop stalling, Maeve. You know I’ve got to punish you for that, and how you’re acting all week, don’t you?” Maeve slowly nodded her head. “Here’s what I want you to do for me. I want you to go over to the door and fetch that strap that’s on the hook.”

  “Oh, God, n-no, please, Larry, not that.” He watched the colour drain from her face.

  “Honey, we don’t have time for a long spanking, but you’ve been very bad, so it’s gotta hurt. Now go fetch it quickly or I’ll double you to a dozen strokes. Please hurry, it’s getting late and we don’t want to keep the priest waiting any longer than necessary,” he said, keeping his voice gentle but firm.

  He watched her drag her feet to the door, and knew that the very act of fetching the implement herself, while in a state of undress, was adding to her dread. He held out his hand as she returned and passed the leather strap to him. It was about three inches wide and fourteen inches long of double-thickness leather. It was crafted to cause serious pain and he could see she knew that as she passed it over.

  “Now pull your panties down to your knees and lie across the desk. Grip the other side with your hands.” She obeyed as expeditiously as she could, considering what was coming. He gave no warm-up, partly as time was limited and partly as this was meant to cause her as much hurt as she had with caused him her accusations. He swished the strap through the air, getting the feel of it, and saw her shudder and tighten her bottom cheeks at the sound.

  “Don’t clench, Maeve, or I will cane you later too while using a plug to teach you not to clench. Be a good girl and relax.” He rubbed her milky white globes once, then spread her legs apart to help prevent clenching. He had a glimpse of her pussy, slick and moist in spite of her trepidation. Her white cotton panties were bunched up in a twist just above her knees. He clucked his disapproval at her obvious arousal to increase her mortification, but really, if she had any clue how hot she looked like that, she could so easily have distracted him from his intentions.

  “Count to six, and don’t make me start over.”

  “Ok,” she rasped.

  “Pardon?” he asked as he brought the strap down in the centre of her bare pale arse. Immediately a wide red welt formed as she yelped.

  “Sorry, sir, I mean, yes, sir, one.”

  “No, that one doesn’t count, and I want to hear ‘sir’ after each number.”

  “O-one, sir,” she howled as he brought the strap down again. She wriggled, trying to escape the burning sensation.

  “Be still,” he ordered. He delivered each of the remaining five in quick succession, starting up at the top of her bum and working his way down. By the time it was done, she was aflame right along to the tops of her thighs, the width and length of the implement ensuring every bit of her posterior felt the impact. It wasn’t enough strokes for tears, but that was what he wanted. He wasn’t so heartless as to force her to go to a rehearsal with the embarrassment of red eyes. A scorched bottom was humiliation enough. He rubbed her momentarily and then told her to thank him and dress quickly.

  “Thank you, sir,” Maeve said meekly. At that he pulled her in for a quick cuddle; she had accepted her correction much more readily than he had anticipated. If she knew how badly he wanted her now. All the appearance of defiance had gone and her face was placid and calm. His penis was aching from a desire to plunge into the glistening moist crevice he had spied only a moment earlier, but there really wasn’t time. He brought his mouth down on hers and she responded hungrily until he reluctantly pulled away.

  “Come on, sweetie, we really do have to go, much and all as I’d like to put you leaning face down on that table again.”

  A much milder woman accompanied Larry to the church. He noticed too how much less snappy she was with everyone at dinner. Even when Bridie seemed to deliberately goad her, she just passed it over. Larry squeezed her knee under the table, silently acknowledging her effort. The meal passed off uneventfully, with Bridie even managing to hold her tongue with the O’Reillys. Maeve had seated Lawrence’s family with Bridie as Lawrence and she had seemed to hit it off so well during his visit. Both Maeve and Larry were pretty delighted to see them chat away like old friends. Finally the diners went their own separate ways and all that was left were Maeve, Larry, Lawrence, and Bridie, drinking an after-dinner brandy in the bar.

  “I got some good news today,” Larry said to the assembled crew. “At least I hope it’s good news. I got word that my offer was accepted on a beef farm in Meath. That’s what all the secrecy has been about, Maeve; I didn’t want to get your hopes up that we’d be able to stay if it fell through.” He stole a sly look in her direction. She was beaming as she leaned across her grandmother to kiss him.

  “Really, so we get to stay here, you’d do that for me? Larry Williamson, I love you. Thank you so much.”

  Bridie’s reaction was almost as good. To lose Maeve to the States would have been terribly hard for her at her age and he knew she had been dreading it. He figured it was behind a lot of her snarky behaviour in the last few days as the time loomed closer. Larry was equally as aware of the disappointment in his father’s visage. But Lawrence had Margaret and her family; Bridie had no one. He was doing what he thought was the right thing.

  “They’re looking for lots of archaeologists on the dig for the Navan road, near what’s that place the old high kings lived? You don’t even need to earn a salary; you could just volunteer and be doing what you love,” he said to Maeve, watching her eyes light up.

  “You mean the Hill of Tara. Jesus, yeah, I could, couldn’t I? That would be so cool.”

  * * *

  The fifteenth of February stunned everyone; an icon of Our Lord, the Child of Prague, sworn by Irish people to gain the blessing of a dry wedding day, had been left outside overnight and had done his work, creating a minor miracle. The sun shone down brightly as the wedding cortege drove up to the parish church.The unexpectedly clement weather drew all of the snoops out of their houses to have a look at the bride who was dressed in a Celtic design dress of white Irish linen, elaborately embroidered, with long flared sleeves, a fitted bodice, and a flared skirt and train. A simple gold rope detail formed a belt, emphasising her slim waist and feminine hips. She wore her hair down in loose curls, with an Angel’s Breath tiara and pearls interwoven in her hair. Orla’s dress was of a similar design in emerald green.

  Larry felt nervous and stiff in his morning suit as he waited. As the organ struck up Wagner’s Wedding March, he looked around and caught sight of his bride and smiled; any earlier nerves now entirely washed away. Always ready to cause a bit of a stir, Maeve had elected Bridie to give her away, much to her grandmother’s delight. Larry watched the three women walk up the aisle where he was waiting longingly for his future bride. The resemblance in the bride’s and grandmother’s personalities was striking and Larry knew he would have his hands full with his young, bright, spirited wife. But when he saw the mettle in Bridie as she proudly walked alongside the bride, he knew Maeve would be able to take anything life threw their way.

  “You look so beautiful,” he whispered as she drew up beside him to take his arm.

  “You look gorgeous too,” she replied.

  The wedding ceremony took about an hour of sitting and standing and careful attention to the solemn words, trying not to fudge his words with his nerves. He was proud of how collected Maeve seemed to be, especially given her anxiety in the build-up to it.

  He watched her closely all through the wedding reception. There was no doubt in his mind that staying in Ireland was the right thing to do as she was so at ease among her own people. She belonged here; not like in Texas where she had been fraught with worry about saying or doing the wrong thing and consequently was almost afraid to speak. Here Maeve’s confidence shone and her spirit bloomed. And even though sometimes her exuberance or even wilfulness could be tiresome, it was still what Larry loved best about her. He would be able to help Maeve control how
she exhibited her spirit, but he hoped she would never squash it—rather, learn to hide it at times.

  * * *

  “Do you trust me entirely, Mrs Williamson?” Larry asked after they left their wedding celebrations. From their room, they could hear the band playing and the muffled sound of voices and laughter. The party was still in full swing.

  “M-hmm, I do, Mr Williamson,” she agreed as he undid the myriad buttons down her back.

  “I want to try something; if it gets too much, you can red-light me at any time.”

  “Ok, but not too noisy. Remember there’s a hotel full of guests.”

  “Maeve, all they can hear is the band. If I had a jackhammer going in here, they wouldn’t hear it.”

  “Ok, sir, do your worst,” she invited as the heavy material from her dress pooled to the floor. He gasped at the basque pushing up her cleavage and then again as she turned around and bent down to pick up her wedding dress, displaying her bottom, which was richly adorned in small white lace panties. The tops of her thighs were visible above the lace edge of her silk stockings.

  “Don’t take anything else off,” he ordered.

  “No, sir.” She slipped her dress on a hanger and placed it hanging from the door of the wardrobe.

  “Come here, Maeve.” He pulled a box from the bedside locker and opened it just enough to locate what he was looking for, dragging out a blindfold. She started to tremble with excitement and a little apprehension.

  “You like?” he asked. She nodded her head. “Don’t forget you can red-light whenever.” He patted the bed indicating for her to sit down, and blindfolded her. He then proceeded to kiss her, her mouth, neck, and shoulders first, then he pulled her breasts free from the basque. She felt the goose-bumps rise as all of her senses were on edge, not knowing what was coming next. She felt his teeth clamp down on her nipples and she yelped, more from surprise than pain. Next his mouth pulled away and a cold steel pinched down instead, emulating the sensation she had felt from his teeth. She felt her pussy tighten and a dragging sensation in her uterus as he did the same to the second nipple. A heavy chain weighed it down, keeping a tension on her nipples.

  “Is the clamp ok?” he asked. Maeve nodded, almost afraid to break the spell by speaking. He guided her over onto her back on the bed, and the weight of the chain increased as she leaned backward, increasing that dragging sensation that was sending her oscillating between heaven and hell. He lifted her legs in the air and she felt his hand rub her bottom through her panties, then he delivered ten sharp smacks to her rear, causing her to cry out. He peeled her panties down slowly and lowered her down on the bed, her hips raised by pillows. Next her legs were cuffed and a bar prevented her from closing them. He took her hands, pulling them down to meet her legs and she felt the padded cuffs close around her wrists. Effectively, he had left her that she could neither close nor lower her legs and her pussy and anus were completely exposed, raised up on the pillow. She was totally at his mercy. He stopped, moving away. She could hear him moving, but had no idea where he was at or what was coming next.

  “I swear to you, I’ll delete this straight after you’ve seen it, but I want you to see what you look like all trussed up and vulnerable,” he told her.

  She fought against her restraints as she heard the click of his camera.

  “Be still,” he snapped, and slapped her hard again. She felt mortified and humiliated, but Maeve did trust him not to show anyone else. Her arousal increased as she realised her total incapacitation. She could feel her feminine juices flow and her breath sharpen.

  She heard him approach her again. “You realise I could do absolutely anything to you now, and there’s nothing you could do to stop me?” She felt something cold and hard rubbing against her bottom.

  “Yes,” she whimpered.

  “This is an antique handcrafted wooden hairbrush, Maeve; call it a wedding present. From now on if you’re a naughty girl, I’m going to use it on your behind, whether you like it or not, I don’t want to hear you talk about rights… this is just the way it is… naughty little girls get spanked. Ok?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And wherever we go, you bring it, and leave it on the dressing table to remind you, is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” she repeated.

  His hand rubbed against the slick juices now creaming her entrance.

  “That excites you, doesn’t it, Maeve?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes what?” he asked, bringing the hairbrush down once, twice. She yelped at the punch of the wooden brush, the angle she was trussed up in ensuring that her bottom was so taut there was no give.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good girl, now don’t come until I tell you to,” he said, rubbing the cool varnished wood against her bottom again as she wriggled her hips at the sensual pleasure. She felt cold jelly squirting against her tight back hole. She clenched, a mixture of thrill and fear. She’d never felt the plug from this angle and she was afraid it would hurt. He pushed it in, twisting and thrusting, in and out until her body stopped fighting it. She stiffened as the final thrust sent it home until the sweet sensation of fullness overtook the discomfort. She felt the hairbrush come down on her four more times, and she couldn’t prevent her bottom cheeks tightening around the plug, heightening the sensation of both the smacks and the foreign intrusion, and she moaned in pleasured pain. His fingers found her clit, swollen and needy. She wanted to come so badly, but he hadn’t told her she could and she tried to fight it. From the tips of her toes to the top of her head felt as if she had pins and needles as she struggled with the need to release. She tried to focus on the strain on her legs being restrained in the air to stop her pleasure.

  “Stay still. I’m just going to undress,” he ordered. Even deprived of the sense of sight, she could tell he was watching her like a hawk, daring her to move her hips to steal pleasure. The thought of him filling her while the plug was in place excited her and she found it hard to obey. She felt the bed sink under his weight. To her dismay, he removed the plug before entering her greedy slit. She wanted to feel both. She felt a sense of relief as he pulled her legs down on his shoulders, releasing the strain of holding them up propped by only her arms. He pumped into her, still keeping her on the edge, but warning her not to come. In and out he plunged, hard, almost violently.

  “You’re mine now, totally mine,” he whispered, but it wasn’t a threat, it was a statement of sweet satisfaction. The words were so potent she couldn’t hold back and her pussy clenched and tightened around his hard cock as she pushed her hips back as hard as she could against him.

  “Oh, you naughty, naughty wife, I’m going to have to punish you some more.” She felt him withdraw and disappointment gripped her.

  “No, Larry, don’t stop,” she begged.

  “No, sir,” he reminded with a slap. “And you’re in no position to make demands, young lady.”

  She felt his cock back between her legs.

  “Too low,” she warned urgently.

  “Shh,” he said soothingly. He found her tight rosebud with his penis and pushed gently against it. The initial entry made her cry out, even the plug hadn’t prepared her for his massive girth.

  “Relax, Maeve, this is what happens to naughty girls who come without their husband’s permission. Don’t fight it.”

  His words were at once soothing and arousing and she bore down, trying to accommodate him. He eased in further, pulling back a little and progressing further with each stroke. When she could feel he was fully penetrated, her body relaxed and he started thrusting harder. The thrusts were foreign and incredibly exciting and her whole body tightened again.

  “You can come,” he said as he thrust harder. She moaned her pleasure, thrusting against him, meeting his stroke. Within moments she could fight the intense pleasure no more and she shouted out as she convulsed in orgasm, her tightening anus around his cock bringing him to his own climax, spilling his juice into her most forbidden place. He unbou
nd her hands and feet, and removed her blindfold.

  “Ok?” he asked.

  “Oh, God, yeah, great,” she agreed. “Now show me that photo before we forget to delete it.”

  He handed her the camera and her eyes widened at the image.

  “Shit, that looks as hot as it felt,” she said as she hit the delete button.

  Epilogue

  Lawrence and Bridie sat at the table together, exhausted but happy.

  “That went well enough, I suppose,” Bridie said in her usual dry tone.

  “Good God, woman, it was a wonderful day and you know it. They couldn’t be happier. You did some good work there. You’re quite the matchmaker.”

  “I thought I blew it when she found out about the money.”

  “Yes, what the heck were you playing at there?” Lawrence asked.

  “Ach, this is for your ears only, but it was a condition of the will that she shouldn’t know about it until she was twenty-five. I just thought it would be better if I took the rap for it rather than her parents. I didn’t want her being mad at them; not when they were gone and not able to defend their decision.”

  “You always were a step ahead of the game; I should never have let you go. I often thought of asking you this, but never had the nerve… were you happy in life or did you have any regrets?”

  “I missed you for a long time, but I felt obliged to come home when my father was dying. And I’d have made you a terrible wife, sure I was too outspoken to be married to a politician. I’d have held you back.”

  “Didn’t take you too long to get over me,” Laurence noted bitterly. “You got married soon after.”

  “Sure once my father died there was not much else for me, I had no proper schooling. If I was going to clean houses, I figured it might as well be my own, so I took myself off to the matchmaker. And lo and behold there was a great man waiting for a tough woman who could manage his violently demented father and I was all set. Seamus would have been what they call a catch, but he wouldn’t hear tell of his crazy old man being put in a home so he found it hard to find a woman. So there you have it; we were a settled match, but a good one as it turned out.”