Maeve snorted in disbelief and then laughed despite herself.
“I’ll say one thing for you, O’Malley, you may have your flaws, but havin’ a low opinion of yourself isn’t one of them.”
“Nor will it ever be,” he assured her, “at least not with you. I’m fairly confident I can take care of one small Irish lass with a lovin’ heart, a firm hand and a few other unmentionable parts.”
“If you say so.”
“I most definitely do. Now eat your supper, I’ve a feelin’ you’ll need your strength.” Maeve picked up her fork and took a bite of her cold steak.
Sean had taken a temporary job at Woodies as assistant manager while he waited to hear from the job in the States. As an added benefit, the position included a small two room flat above the store and that’s where he took Maeve when they left the restaurant.
Carefully he led her up the outside stairway and unlocked the door.
“Keep your coat on for a bit, darlin’, while I light the heater,” he instructed, seating her on a well-worn sofa. “Soon you’ll be toasty.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Maeve mumbled.
“You should have thought of that before you misbehaved, I’m thinkin’,” Sean retorted, switching on a lamp.
“This was all ma’s idea,” Maeve pouted. He sat next to her and pulled her head to his shoulder as he waited for the room to warm. His fingers toyed with the end of her braid until he managed to free her hair. Gently, he stroked his hand through it until the strands fell about her shoulders in shining waves.
Sean remained silent as he fondled her curls. As soon as he deemed the room warm enough, he leaned over and unbuttoned her coat, slipping it from her shoulders.
“All right now, lass, over my lap and take what’s comin’ to you,” he coaxed kindly.
“Sean, please. ’Tis sorry I am that I deceived you. Can’t we just forget this,” she pleaded prettily, looking up into his eyes with her bottom lip quivering.
Sean sighed and kissed her sweetly. “Oy, lass, I wish I could,” he replied, stroking her cheek. “But I know you well, Maeve Donahue, and while you’re all soft and sweet right now when you’re facing a good skelpin’, you’ll lead me a merry dance in the future if I let you get away with what you’ve done. I know it sure as I know my own name.
“Now are you goin’ over my knee under your own power or do you need encouragement?”
Maeve pulled away and lunged across his lap, keeping herself stiff as a board.
“You’re a bully, Sean O’Malley,” she hissed as she clutched the cushion with her hands.
“Aye, but a bully who’s happy to see your ma’s influence didn’t extend to your underthings,” Sean stated whipping her skirt up and exposing her bottom covered in black lace panties. “These are lovely, darlin’. Too bad they have to come down.”
“Sean, no,” Maeve squealed as he slowly pulled her panties down to her knees.
“Unlike you, my lessons are not oft repeated,” Sean informed her. “You color quickly, lass, and a red bottom does not mean you’re repentant. I like to see what I’m doin’.” Softly, he stroked and cupped one cheek and then the other as she squirmed in obvious embarrassment.
“Settle down, love,” he ordered when her feet began to kick. “You know that won’t do you a bit of good.”
“Beat me if you must,” Maeve sniffed in indignation, “but that does not give you the right to fondle me!”
“I’ll not beat you, not now or ever, but the fondlin’ is open for negotiation,” he replied with a laugh just before he swatted her.
Like the first time Maeve held her tongue, her stubborn pride preventing her from apologizing or pleading for mercy. Sean knew her tolerance now. After five hearty spanks, her bottom was a fiery pink and she was trying to wiggle away, but not a word of repentance passed her lips.
At ten, she was bright red and swearing like a drunken sailor, insulting him with various terms of animal husbandry which only increased his ire.
“You’re not helpin’ your cause with such language, lass,” he advised her as he tipped her forward and concentrated on the delicate skin of her lower cheeks.
“Bugger you, O’Malley,” she screamed out.
By the fifteenth swat, Sean was beginning to sweat and he moved to her thighs. It only took two sharp slaps to the back of her thighs to inspire her to shriek out a plea for forgiveness. He stopped immediately and carefully turned her over. As before, she was not sobbing, although her cheeks were wet with tears. It wasn’t until he cuddled her against his chest that Maeve’s stubborn pride released her from its grip and she clutched him closer, her tears soaking his shirt.
“T’was a stupid plan,” she sobbed out as he soothed her.
