Because You Are Mine Part VI: Because You Torment Me (6 page)

“
Say it
,” he whispered roughly. “Say you see what I see when I look at you.”

“I see it,” she replied, her tone dazed . . . a little wondrous, as if she actually thought, for a few seconds, that he possessed magic mirrors.

“Yes. And that’s not a power you play with, is it?”

It took her a moment to realize Ian’s small smile didn’t come from smugness or cockiness. No—he looked triumphant because of what she’d seen in the mirror . . . because of her admission.
Why did he care whether or not she thought she was beautiful?

He led her over to the kinky-looking contraption that hung from the ceiling with the inexplicable harnesses and straps, her heart pounding uncomfortably fast. He pulled down on the main horizontal black bar, stretching a spring on the contraption so that three four-inch-wide padded-leather harnesses fell horizontally about four feet from the floor.
Wait a second
 . . . those leather loops could be used to suspend a body in midair. If that circular pad of leather was to support the head, and that harness was for the chest area, and the lower one for the pelvis, then those other straps could be used to bind a person’s hands and ankles.

They’d be completely restrained . . . helpless, Francesca realized. She looked at Ian as he held the swing. The light from the chandelier gleamed in his blue eyes. Her incredulous expression faded as a heavy pressure fell on her chest.

Oh no.

She already
was
completely helpless when it came to Ian Noble . . . and it had nothing to do with the restraining swing.

He put out his hand, beckoning her.

Her ass muscles clenched tight; liquid heat rushed at her sex.

She raised her hand and he grasped it, drawing her toward him.

“It’s time you learned that when you play with fire, you’re going to end up at its mercy,” he said.

Ian’s hand were gentle, his hold firm when he lifted her off the floor and slid her body, belly downward, through the loops of the swing. He arranged the padded straps below her hips, beneath her breasts, and under her forehead. She gave a shaky yelp when the harnesses dipped once he gave them her weight.

“
Shhhh,
” he soothed from above her, stroking her back. “The swing is hooked through a steel beam in the ceiling. It’s extremely secure. Relax.”

She exhaled after a moment, realizing that now that she’d settled, she did, indeed, feel steady. Strange and aroused and a little scared, but secure in the knowledge that Ian would keep her safe. His hand left her back. He touched her calves, and then her ankles. She peered sideways but couldn’t see through the thick fall of her hair. She felt him slip first one foot through a nylon loop, then the other, and tightened them on her ankle. He’d bound her feet at a lower angle from her body, making her legs drop below her hips, as if she was in a bent-over position, but in midair. Once he’d secured her feet, he came around to the front of her and restrained her wrists in a similar fashion, letting her arms fall in a semi-straightened position beneath her chest.

His brisk, knowledgeable manipulation of the swing and her body let her know Ian had a lot of experience with it.

“Let me get you something for your hair.”

For an anxious moment, she couldn’t see him. Then his deft hands were sweeping her long hair away from her face, lifting the gathered mass. She turned her chin slightly and was able to see him in the mirror as he twirled his hand, twisting her hair and finally binding it on her head with a huge clip. She couldn’t take her eyes off his powerful form in the mirror; couldn’t take her eyes off herself, naked and suspended there in midair, vulnerable to anything and everything Ian wanted to do to her.

Perhaps he noticed her anxious studying of them in the mirror, because he brushed his long fingers beneath her chin and met her stare in the mirror.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said.

She blinked, seeing something in his eyes that gave her courage. Passion. Tenderness. A clear intent to possess, but not in a way she should fear or abhor. She nodded once, feeling breathless.

He walked over to the table, and when he returned, he carried the paddle. Her clit pinched in arousal at the sight of it gripped surely in his large hand. It suddenly struck her how vulnerable her bottom was, suspended there at hip height in midair. She held her breath when he came to a halt and raised the paddle, brushing the exquisitely soft fur over her still-tingling spanked ass.

He gripped the straps above the harness that held her hips, securing her in place. She watched wide-eyed in the mirror as he tossed the paddle in the air a few inches and flipped it expertly. When it landed, the leather side faced her ass.

“I will give you ten strokes,” he said gruffly, placing the paddle against her ass. Her cheeks heated at the sensation . . . at the vision of the black leather pressing into the flesh of her pink buttocks.

He lifted the paddle and swung. She gasped at the impact, her body swinging forward ever so slightly in Ian’s grip. “
Ow,”
popped out of her throat when he paddled her again, stinging her nerves. He kept the paddle pressed to her ass cheeks.

“I said you’d be safe, and you always will be.” In the mirror, she saw that he stared at her ass as he circled the paddle, massaging her. “But that doesn’t mean there won’t be some discomfort. This is a punishment, after all.”

She whimpered when he landed another smack on her lower buttocks. He grunted, low and rough, and used the paddle to massage the smarting skin once again. “I love turning your ass red,” he muttered and landed another smack. This blow was forceful enough to send her jerking forward in Ian’s hold several inches. “You keep the count, Francesca,” he said. “I’m losing my concentration.”

She stared at his rigid features when he said that, her heart charging like a locomotive, the clit cream taunting her between her thighs.
Ian
lose concentration? He swung his arm back, and her eyes sprang wide in trepidation.

Smack.

“Five,” she squeaked. She couldn’t take her eyes off him in the mirror: the way his shirt stretched across his wide chest when he swung his arm back, the rigid focus on her as he landed the paddle, the absolute strength of his grip on the swing as he kept her ass in place for her punishment.

He landed several more smacks, and then cursed under his breath. He released his death grip on the hip harness. Francesca swayed forward and back six inches in each direction. She hardly noticed, she was too busy watching him in the mirror. He rapidly slipped a loop of leather at the end of the paddle around his wrist and began to unfasten his pants. The garments remained around his hips, but he drew his erection over the waistband of his white boxer briefs. He stroked the long, thick, naked shaft.

“
Ian
,” she moaned, heat rushing between her thighs at the vision of his stark, virile power. He slipped the paddle off his wrist and gripped it tight again.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice rough with arousal.

“You’re killing me,” she said uncontrollably, not sure what she meant. There was just so much pressure pent up inside her. It felt like she was about to combust and burn. Why did this suspended, helpless position arouse her so much?

“It’s no more than what you do to me,” he said grimly as he firmed his hold on the hip harness and swung the paddle.

“Eight,” she yelped. Her ass was burning now, but still most of her attention was on the sensation of Ian’s cock leaping up in the air as he landed the blow, the velvety soft, firm crown batting her hip.

By the time “ten” popped out of her throat, things were soaked between her thighs, she was panting raggedly, and her ass was on fire. Ian ran the fur over her stinging ass cheeks and released his hold on the harness. She bit off a whimper when he grabbed one of her flaming buttocks and massaged it greedily with his palm.

“You’re ass is going to be so good, lovely. So hot. You’re going to melt my cock,” he said, a wry smile tilting his hard mouth.

“Will it hurt?” she asked shakily.

He paused in his lascivious caress, still gripping her ass, and met her eyes in the mirror.

“A little at first, perhaps. But my intent is to punish you for your impulsiveness, not to torture you.”

“And . . . and putting your cock . . .
there
is part of my punishment?”

He released her bottom and turned, walking over to the table. She tried to see what he was doing over there in the reflection, but his body, and her own, partially blocked her view. When he returned, he carried a glistening black rubber plug. Her eyes widened. It was larger than the one he’d put into her before. Between that intimidating-looking sex toy and Ian’s flagrant erection standing out lewdly from his body, Francesca didn’t know where to land her anxious gaze.

“I don’t consider ass-fucking to be anything but a pleasure,” he said as he approached her. “Whether you consider it a punishment or a mutual exchange of pleasure is yet to be determined.”

Having said that, he looped his left forearm around the straps of the hip harness, holding her steady. He used the side of his hand to pry back her ass cheeks and touched the tip of the plug to her anus.

“Reach with your hands and rub your clit,” he ordered tensely.

She swung her bound hands toward her pelvis, bending her elbows. Her clit was nestled against the padded strap. She sent a finger beneath the restraint and burrowed it between her labia. She was soaked. The second she rubbed her eager clit, pleasure spiked through her.

Then . . . there was a sharp pain that was quickly gone.

She gasped, realizing Ian had pushed the thick head of the plug into her ass. She rubbed with increased vigor. The building pressure was unbearable. Her body was on fire.
Oh
 . . . she was about to come . . .

Ian grabbed her wrists and pulled down her arms. She squawked a choked protest.

She saw his amused expression in the mirror.

“I think we have our definitive answer as to whether this will be a punishment or a pleasure for you, no?”

She bit her lip, her gaze flickering nervously to her ass in the mirror. He’d fully inserted the rubber plug while she lost herself to pleasure. The flat base of the sex toy pressed tight against her ass cheeks.

She was about to explode as she hovered there helplessly in the air, a tight bundle of burning nerves and quivering flesh. She froze at what she saw in the mirror.
Ian was undressing
. He removed his shoes and socks. He stripped off his shirt. She gawked at the sight of his lean waist, ridged abdomen, and wide, powerful chest. Her breath burned in her lungs in anticipation.

Yes
.

He drew his pants and underwear down his long legs. She finally saw his fully exposed naked body.

She clenched her eyes shut. He was so beautiful, such the epitome of male power, it hurt her to look at him a little, as hyperaroused as she was. A cry fell past her lips when she was suddenly spinning. Her eyes sprang wide, the room zooming past her. She came to a relative halt and lifted her forehead from the harness. Ian stood just inches from her face, his grip shifting to the chest harness, keeping her steady before him. She looked up at him.

“That’s the beauty of the swing,” he said, obviously noticing her stunned expression. “I can put you in any position I want you, in the blink of an eye.” He grasped his cock from below and lifted it to her mouth, making his intention clear. The crown of his cock slid between her lips, stretching them. She looked up at him as she bathed the head, then batted at it with a firm tongue. A snarl pulled at his mouth as he watched her.

How was it possible for her to feel so helpless and masterfully in control at once?

He used his hand to swing her body several inches forward, several inches back. His cock slid in and out of her mouth. He continued this for a moment, fucking her face, totally controlling her, but never taking advantage, only sliding several inches along her tongue, back and forth, until his cock swelled huge between her clamping lips.

“That’s good,” he muttered, stepping back, his cock popping out of her mouth. “Too good, in fact,” he added under his breath. “Hold steady.”

Suddenly she was spinning again in the opposite direction. She stared at him in the mirror, bewildered. He slid the hip harness lower so that it trailed down her thighs.

“Oh!” she squeaked when he suddenly lifted her by the waist, taking her body weight as though he lifted a feather pillow. He gently kept the butt plug inserted with one hand.

“Loop your feet the other way through the lower strap, so that you’re in a sitting position. She did her best to follow his instructions, but it was his expert maneuvering that got her into the position he desired. When she’d settled again and he’d secured her, the lack of tension in the head harness had caused it to fall away. The upper-body harness had lowered to her ribs, and she sat in the lower leather harness, her knees bent, her bound wrists in her lap. Once she was secure against the upper restraint, he slid the butt harness lower, down to the top of her thighs.

She was dizzy with excitement and Ian’s masterful handling of the swing. She felt like she was taking part in some kind of triple-X-rated version of Cirque du Soleil.

He slid the lubricated black rubber plug out of her ass, making her gasp. He dropped it to the floor. She stared, panting, mesmerized as she watched him lubricate his cock until it glistened. He stepped behind her. He grabbed first the straps to the lower harness, then the ones to the upper one, flexing his biceps until they bulged, pulling her body toward him.

She was in a sort of suspended sitting position in front of Ian, her back to him, her upper body slanted forward at an angle . . . her ass fully exposed as it draped in the loop of the harness like an offering.

She couldn’t breathe. She felt the slick, hard head of his cock brush against her tingling ass, then press against the entrance of her anus.

“
Ian
,” she grated out between clenched teeth.

“It’s time for you to burn, lovely,” he said in a low growl.