Because You Are Mine Part VI: Because You Torment Me (5 page)

Oh, no.
She’s completely ruined things for him. He may have deserved a little tormenting for his relentlessly arrogant behavior, but she’d never intended
this.

“Ian, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean . . . surely you don’t
think
I meant—”

He placed his hand along the side of her head, holding her immobile, his scoring stare making her fall silent. “I know you didn’t mean to ruin the deal. You’re not that vindictive. Besides that, you’re too foolish to even know what you’re doing. Xander’s utter stupidity in suggesting I share you with him was just icing on the cake. The second that asshole touched you, the deal was finished. I only brought him up to the penthouse to tell him so. Before I got the chance, he made his last demand for the buyout and ended up leaving a lot more . . .
abruptly
than he’d planned as a result.”

“I can’t believe it,” she muttered, horrified.

“That’s because you have no idea how a man like Xander LaGrange thinks. You were having your fun playing with fire. You’ve got the body and a face of a goddess and the mentality of a six-year-old with a pretty new toy.”

Anger filtered through her misery. “I’m not a child, and I was just trying to prove to you that I won’t be treated like one, Ian!”

“You’re right,” he said, tightening his grip on her wrist. He began to walk to the far side of his enormous suite, Francesca trailing after him clumsily in her high heels. “You want to play the games of a woman, you want to flick matches at me to see if I burn? Well, you better be willing to take the consequences, Francesca,” he said, reaching into a drawer and drawing out some keys roughly.

Her chest felt so full of anxiety and regret and rising excitement, she couldn’t draw breath. What was he doing unlocking that door? She followed after him when he pulled on her wrist and entered a room that was about twenty feet by fifteen. This space contained a whole bank of built-in cherrywood drawers and cabinets. He shut the door behind her, and she looked around. The entire far corner was lined with mirrors and a contraption of some sort with springs and harnesses and black nylon straps. She stared wide-eyed at the device, her heart starting to drum in her ears.

“Go stand in front of the couch and take off your dress.”

She tore her eyes off the intimidating device and realized there was a plush sofa on the wall opposite from the shelves and mirror. An elegant chandelier strangely didn’t look out of place on the ceiling.
So like Ian to pair crystal with kink.
There were also other things in the windowless room, like two hooks with straps spaced along the wall, an unusually curved tall stool sitting in front of a piece of wood affixed to the wall like a ballet bar, and a padded bench.

“Ian, what is this room?”

“It’s the room where you’ll receive your more serious punishments,” he said before he walked over to the drawers and opened one. Her eyes widened when she saw several paddles and instruments with leather straps. Her mouth went dry when he grasped the handle of the familiar-looking black leather paddle and lifted it.

Oh no.

“I really didn’t mean to ruin the deal for you tonight,” she said in a rush.

“And I told you I knew that. I’m not punishing you because Xander LaGrange is a fucking tool. I’m going to punish you for tormenting me all night. Now didn’t I ask you to remove your dress?” he asked, the slightest hint of amusement in his dark-angel eyes when he turned to regard her, paddle in hand. His mirth vanished when she didn’t move.

“The door isn’t locked, Francesca. You can go if you choose. But if you stay, you will do as I say.”

She walked across the room, pausing in front of the couch, having trouble catching her breath. She noticed that her reflection in the mirrors across the way was pale as she reached to unzip her dress. Ian paused across the room in the action of opening another drawer as she peeled the tight garment off her skin.

Bandage dress
indeed.

She hesitated when she’d removed the dress. “These too?” she asked shakily, referring to the bra, panties, and thigh-highs she wore, along with the black lizard-skin heels.

“Just take off the bra and panties,” he said, grabbing some items from a drawer and stalking toward her. His body blocked her view, making it difficult to see what he set on the padded table in addition to the paddle as she removed the requested garments. She glimpsed only one thing before he blocked her view as he walked toward her—an item that was like a long cone-shaped tube made of black rubber, a ring affixed to the thicker end.

She focused on his hand, her clit twanging in excitement when she saw the jar of stimulant. He must have noticed where she stared—or perhaps he noticed her stiffening nipples—because a grim smile tilted his hard mouth.

“That’s right. I’m weak when it comes to you. Pitifully so. I can’t bear to think of you experiencing only discomfort,” he said as he unscrewed the jar. He dipped a thick finger into the white emollient and met her stare. “Even for this—when you deserve a good, hard punishment.”

She swallowed thickly. “I really am sorry, Ian,” she said, not because of the intimidating black paddle over on the table, and not because of that strange black plug she’d glimpsed.

He frowned slightly and stepped toward her. She gasped loudly as he plunged his finger between her labia, rubbing the cream into her clit with a brisk precision that made her whimper.

“I spoil you,” he said, withdrawing his hand, leaving her to burn.

“I’ll have trouble believing that in a few minutes when my butt is on fire,” she muttered.

His gaze skipped to her face. Her eyes widened when she saw his potent smile. Heat rushed between her thighs.

She watched him, anticipation rising, as he went back over to the table and removed his jacket, admiring the lean flex of muscle beneath his dress shirt. He rolled back his shirtsleeves. She caught a glimpse of strong forearms and his gold watch. Nervous excitement frothed in her belly at the sight.

He meant business.

When he returned, she immediately tried to see what was in his hand.

“Curious?” he murmured.

She nodded.

“Since I’m going to blindfold you in a moment, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” he said quietly. He held up the familiar handcuffs. “I’m going to restrain your wrists, blindfold you, and give you an over the knee spanking. Once your ass is nice and hot,” he held up the black rubber plug with the circular end like a pacifier handle, as well as a bottle of clear gel, “I’m going to lube up this butt plug and ready your ass for my cock.”

Her heart froze for a suspended few seconds.

“You’re going to do
what
?”

“You heard me,” he said as he set the lubricant and butt plug on the couch. He nodded at one of her wrists. “The front,” he said, and she put her hands together before her mons, following his concise instructions without thought, her brain in stall mode. “Surely you knew men like to do that,” he said, noticing her bewilderment.

“Even if women don’t?”

“Some women do. A great deal.”

She thought of Ian’s huge penis and made her decision then and there. It would be a punishment to take it in her ass, pure and simple, no matter the clitoral stimulant that was beginning to make her prickle and burn in pleasure. He went to the table and came back holding a long black strip of silk—the blindfold. She frowned at him for good measure as he raised his hands to tie it around her eyes.

When he’d affixed the cloth and she was blindfolded, he led her to the couch. She thought she heard the soft sound of his large, solid body falling on the cushions. He guided her onto his lap. She came down awkwardly, her bound wrists causing her elbows to jab into his rock-solid thighs.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“It’s all right. Remember the position I taught you?” he murmured from somewhere above her. She nodded and slid her breasts over his outer thigh until the lower curves pressed against hard muscle, her bound hands were stretched out above her head, and her bare ass curved over his other leg. Her sex clenched tight when she clearly felt the outlines of his cock against her ribs and belly. A flare of panicked excitement bubbled up from her chest when she fully absorbed his dimensions and felt his throbbing warmth through the cloth of his pants.

“Ian, you’ll never be able to put
that
inside my—”

He cracked her ass with his palm, and she jumped in his lap.

“I will, lovely,” she heard him say. “And I’ll love every second of it. Now keep that bottom still.”

She bit her lip to keep from moaning as he began to slap her buttocks, and occasionally her thighs, with quick, stinging spanks. Her clit pinched in arousal. She decided she liked over-the-knee spankings more than the paddle. She liked Ian’s personal touch, and how his hand grew as warm as her smarting ass, and how his cock leapt against her body when he landed those firm slaps on the lower curves of her buttocks. Her entire focus narrowed to the feeling of his stark arousal pressing against her body and the anticipation of his next spank.

She adored how he paused in her punishment and stroked her now-fiery bottom with his big hand, as if to soothe the sting. She moaned when he suddenly squeezed an entire buttock tautly and flexed his hips, grinding her body against his raging erection.

“Why do you have to torment me, lovely?” she heard him rasp.

“I wonder the same thing about you,” she mumbled frantically, her face pressed into the couch, muffling her speech. He was still pressing her against his hard, aroused body, and her clit loved the pressure.

He grunted and released his hips.

“You’re a constant thorn in my side,” he said, sounding grim.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, missing the pressure of his cock, and his hand on her ass. What was he doing? She wondered, twisting her chin around, trying to hear something that would answer her question. A cry leaked out of her throat when he matter-of-factly spread an ass cheek with a large hand and kept it pried back. Her muscles tensed in anxiety when she felt a cool, hard pressure against her anus.

“I don’t really think you are sorry,” she heard Ian say from behind her. The pressure increased, and the tip of the plug slipped into her ass. “I think you like to torment me as much as I love to punish you.”

“Ian,” she moaned uncontrollably when he pushed the plug farther into her, and then began to slide the rubber tube out and back in several inches, back and forth, fucking her ass using the handle at the end, the lubrication making for a smooth glide despite the pressure.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice sounding rough.

Her mouth hung open, her flaming cheek pressed to the velvet of the couch.

“It feels so . . . strange,” she managed in a broken voice. She couldn’t adequately put into words how it felt—anxiety-provoking to lay in his lap at his mercy, shameful to give him control over such a private, forbidden part of her body, arousing to feel nerve endings flicker to life at the stimulation, mounting the burn at her clit in a way she’d never before experienced . . .

. . . beyond thrilling to feel the tension level leap in Ian’s muscles as he fucked her ass with the plug.

He sunk it deep, making her yelp in surprise.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, maintaining pressure with his fingers to keep the plug inserted.

She shook her head into the sofa, too overwhelmed to speak. The clit cream had gone into full effect. She tingled and simmered. As if Ian had sensed this, he reached beneath her and parted her labia, rubbing the erect piece of flesh. She shuddered in his lap.

“You begin to see why a woman might like this,” he drew the plug out of her and slid it back into her ass again, “as much as a man?”

She moaned uncontrollably. Did she ever. Nerves all along her sacrum flared to life as he continued to plunge the plug in and out of her while he rubbed her slick clit. If he kept this up, she’d soon be quivering in orgasm.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t Ian’s plan. He removed his hand, and the plug slid out of her ass, making her groan at the sudden interruption. She felt his fingers moving on the handcuffs. He unfastened the buckles and then slid the blindfold off her head. She blinked, even the subtle illumination from the crystal chandelier seeming bright after the pitch black of the blindfold. He took her hand.

“Stand up. I’ll help you,” he said.

She appreciated his guiding hands as she tried to do what he’d demanded, still disoriented from the light and the abrupt cessation of pleasure. She stood before him, feeling flushed with arousal and flustered and unsteady in the high heels. He looked up at her, his eyes glowing with heat and arousal, his long legs spread slightly, his arousal flagrantly obvious.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he asked, his narrowed gaze studying her.

“No,” she whispered, knowing her hot cheeks, flushed skin, and tight nipples betrayed her lie.

He just smiled and stood. She looked up at him, unable to disguise her longing, when he gently smoothed her loose hair away from her face. She gasped softly at the feeling of his hand on the small of her back, caressing her, and the cloth of his pants and shirt brushing against her sensitive skin.

“Mutinous even in the face of sure defeat? You never cease to amaze me, lovely,” he murmured. “Come with me,” he said, taking her hand. She walked beside him, halting suddenly when she saw her reflection in the mirror.

The sheer black thigh-highs made her skin look very pale in contrast, as did the red-gold thatch of hair between her thighs. Her hair tumbled in a wild mess all the way to her waist. Her nipples were stained a dark pink and beaded tight in arousal, the pale globes of her breasts rose and fell as she panted shallowly.

She stared, slain by the image of herself transformed by desire.

“You see it?” Ian asked, leaning down near her, his warm breath in her ear causing a spike of pleasure to go through her. “You see it, don’t you?” he murmured as he spread his hand over her belly in a possessive gesture. “You see how beautiful you are?”

Her flushed lips parted, but no words came out.