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.
“Your 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.