An Irish Beauty, a Texas Cowboy and the Strap...

I think I was the first person to read Mastering Maeve, is that right Tara? I feel honored (so just say yes even if I wasn't). I love Tara Finnegan's style, she is a unique writer, tells a wonderful, realistic yet hot as hell story and on top of that, she is a good friend. And she is even humoring me with one of my favorite scenes in the book…

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Natasha has kindly let me take over her blog today to promote my new release, Mastering Maeve. But it came with two provisions….she wanted me to say fecking and she wanted a particular scene. So here it is.

Setting the scene: Maeve has just snatched Larry’s phone from him and checked up on his incoming call records and he’s absolutely fecking furious!

Fed up with her recent behaviour overall, he’s dragged her by the arm to the small schoolroom, threatening to carry her if she doesn’t come willingly. When they get there he tells her to remove her skirt and then go fetch the old school strap that’s hanging from the door and hand it to him.

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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.

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