Page 65 of Rory: His to Discipline

She would stop drinking.

She would do anything … anything … if only he would stop.

Finally, she collapsed over his lap, sobbing her heart out, limp as a wet noodle.

Del gave her twenty more hard smacks to let her know that he decided when to stop spanking her, and she could not get out of it just by promising to behave.

Gently he rubbed her back keeping her firmly over his knees. When her sobbing had turned to hiccups and sighs, he picked her up and stood, standing her on her wobbly legs. Taking his handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the tears and snot off her face and smiled.

Bridget was a wreck, just as she should be if he did the job right, according to his research. Her bottom was red, hot and swollen. Her beautiful green eyes were red and water-logged. Her bottom lip quivered when she reached back and felt her bottom. Satisfied, Del pulled her into his arms and kissed her with more passion than he’d ever thought possible.

“Here’s the deal, Bridget,” he told her, taking hold of her shoulders. “When my parents return from their trip, I will be taking you to meet them and announce our engagement. The wedding will be within the year. I find I love you too much to wait longer. I will deal with any future issues we may have in precisely this manner and you need to know that. You are by far too precious to me to allow you to continue in your self-destructive pattern.

“I will be back at four o’clock this afternoon. At that time, I will expect you to give me your answer. If you should choose not to marry me and accept my guidance, I will leave after the wedding and we will have no further contact.

“The choice is yours, my love. I find I can no longer be just your friend. I will be your husband and lover or nothing.” Kissing her softly, Del gathered his coat and walked out of her bedroom.

Chapter Twenty-One

At four o’clock on Christmas Eve, family and friends descended on the lovely Victorian house the O’Malley’s called home. Beautifully decorated in vintage style, walking in the door was a step back in time.

The towering tree dominated the living room, its rich scent joining the bayberry candles and the boughs of pine and holly adorning the mantle. Fresh red and ivory roses held the ivory tulle scalloped along the mahogany banister leading to the upper floors. Vases of the fragrant flowers nestled on side tables along with vintage decorations.

Three little girls, in matching red dresses with ivory sashes, inspected presents that were under the tree, looking for their names. When they found one, tiny feet in black patent leather shoes, danced around the room in glee.

A steady stream of family and friends, handed over their coats to Bridget who hung them in the hall closet as she directed everyone to the dining room. China, crystal and silver sparkled in the light from the chandelier, the buffet covered with an assortment of meats, cheeses and other appetizing dishes.

Rory, dressed in a black tux, tended bar in the family room as Tess shyly greeted friends and family. Wearing a long black skirt and a glittery gold top, she served glasses of punch from the large crystal bowl.

Molly and Patrick, who were standing up with Rory and Tess, looked stunning; Patrick in a black tux and Molly in a strapless red chiffon gown.

Mason and Rebecca were in attendance, their first time out alone since their baby’s birth. Rebecca wore a short black dress with a full chiffon skirt and sequined bodice. Her blonde hair was swept up into an intricate cluster of curls and with her stiletto heels she was the picture of sophistication, until Tess saw her pinch Mason’s ass.

Maggie wore a short, dark green satin sheath with spaghetti straps that outlined her trim body. Just above her breasts nestled a lovely emerald teardrop pendant, which Nick had given her as an early Christmas present. Like his brother, Mason, Nick too had a hard time keeping his hands off his wife.

Maeve and Colleen flitted around from room to room making sure everything was perfect. Colleen’s dress was midnight blue velvet and left one shoulder bare. Noah’s eyes followed her every step, and several times he was slapped for nibbling on her.

Maeve’s red and gold brocade skirt was knee-length and full. Topped with a gold satin blouse and a wide black belt, she was the picture of a holiday hostess and mother of the groom.

Bridget restlessly prowled from the foyer to the living room, her hands constantly smoothing down her skirt. She had dressed with care wearing a tea length dress. The bodice was black velvet and the skirt was red satin overlaid with sheer red chiffon. Tiny gold crystals in a snowflake pattern were scattered randomly around the skirt. Her curly blonde hair was in her typical high ponytail, woven through with red satin ribbons.

She spent the majority of her day, pouting in her room, sitting on frozen vegetables. For the first hour or so, she plotted the most heinous forms of revenge she could think of. As her bottom cooled, so had her temper and she began to think seriously about Winston’s proposal.

In the beginning, she set her sights on Winston because he seemed to be the exact opposite of the other men in her family. How could she have been so wrong?

Not only was he very much like Rory and the rest of them, he was worse. Not a hint of warning had preceded his horrendous spanking. Sure, he got frustrated with her, even angry, but nothing in his character had led her to believe he was capable of such action.

He was kind, smart, and funny. Yet still he had apparently reached some kind of breaking point. If extremely well-mannered, Winston had been driven to commit an act so totally out of character, did that mean another man—any man—could and would also resort to using physical correction if he didn’t approve of her behavior?

Bridget didn’t tell anyone what had happened this morning, not even her Ma. The afternoon was filled with chores and Bridget wrestled with her decision as she quietly completed what was asked of her. Several times she caught her mother watching her with a strange look in her eyes, but Bridget said nothing.

Part of her wanted to tell Winston to go straight to the devil and that she wouldn’t marry him if he was the last man on earth.

Another part of her knew that she truly loved him and that she might never find another man she wanted as badly as she wanted him.

At times she convinced herself that if she were to marry him, surely, she could manage to avoid a repeat of this morning’s debacle. After all, she was quite a resourceful girl and not above using her wiles to achieve success.

But Winston was smart, incredibly smart, and would see right through her schemes. Shit! What to do, what to do?