Because You Are Mine (Because You Are Mine #1)(83)
Author: Beth Kery

. . . that Francesca had witnessed everything that had happened.

He experienced an untenable need to punish her for seeing not only his mother when she was so vulnerable, but himself. He’d spent a good portion of his life guarding Helen from prying, horrified gazes. Somehow, knowing Francesca had witnessed the full extent of his mother’s madness felt exponentially more painful than a stranger’s observance of it.

He went over to the bureau and unlocked a cabinet. A jolt of excitement went through him when he saw her eyes widen as she stared at what he carried a moment later. “Yes. I keep only a few items here on the plane, and not the ones you’re used to. We’ll start with your punishment and then move on to other ways to make you squirm.”

Her cheeks turned pink at that, but he couldn’t tell if her reaction was from arousal or anger at his words. But he did want to see her squirm, he thought as he picked up the black elastic flesh plumper. He wanted to see Francesca squirming in regret and undiluted lust; he wanted her to beg him through those pink lips that haunted his dreams . . .

. . . he wanted to hear her say she loved him again.

The thought was banished almost as quickly as he had had it. He maneuvered a padded chest that sat at the end of the bed toward the center of the room.

“Step into this,” he told her a few seconds later, approaching her, holding the elastic restraining strap. Standing this close, he could the smell the clean, fruity fragrance of her shampoo. “Hold on to my shoulders to steady yourself.”

“What is it?” He tried to ignore how soft but sure her grip felt through his dress shirt.

“It’s a band that will bind your legs while I punish you, restricting you. It might be a little uncomfortable, but it will give me great pleasure.”

“I don’t see how,” she said, her face grimacing as he stretched the black, five-inch-wide, circular elastic band, pulling it up until it rested just below her buttocks, binding her thighs tight and plumping her ass over the edge, displaying firm flesh for his hand and paddle. He reached out and molded a buttock in his palm. His cock jerked.

“Now do you see?” he asked her pointedly, reluctantly letting go of her plumped ass. The elastic binder achieved the equivalent of what a bustier did for breasts, fully showcasing her ass, even as it bound her.

“Ian!” she exclaimed in surprise when he suddenly lifted her into the air, carrying her toward the padded bench.

“I have to carry you, with your legs bound,” he said, lowering her knees onto the cushion. “Stay on your knees for a moment. Don’t move.” When he returned, he carried a pair of handcuffs. Unlike the soft leather ones he typically used with her, given her sensitive skin, these were metal. “Wrists at your lower back,” he said. He frowned after he’d fastened her hands at her back. “I don’t want you struggling against those cuffs, Francesca. You might bruise yourself.”

“O-Okay,” he heard her say. He met her stare, looking into dark, velvety orbs. A wild surge of something went through him—lust, raw need, anger—when he recognized what shone in her eyes.

“Why do you look at me with so much trust?” he bit out.

“Because I do trust you.”

“You’re a fool.” He touched her elbow, guiding her. “Stay on your knees. Bend over. Expose your ass. Rest your breasts against your knees. Press your forehead to the cushion and keep it there throughout your punishment. Do not look at me, or I will punish you harder.” She truly was a nymph; her eyes possessed some kind of magic over him. If he looked into them enough, he’d soon start to believe in what he saw there shining like a steady, unwavering beacon.

He went to get the paddle. He knew why her eyes had gone wide upon seeing it a moment ago. It was made of varnished wood, long and narrow—only three inches wide. It was a more serious tool for corporal punishment than the black leather paddle he preferred for her delicate skin.

But he was determined to make her pay for her impulsive decision to follow him to London. He was determined to make her pay for igniting this storm of feeling inside him.

He barely restrained a groan as he approached and took in the vision of her. The elastic binder displayed her shapely ass to cock-jerking effect. He caressed one cheek, then the other, lifting the buttocks fully out of the restraint so that he might touch and punish every precious bit of the firm, fulsome flesh.

She started when he landed the paddle on the sweet lower curve of her ass, but he sensed that she held back her cry. Her restraint pleased him.

Just as everything about her did . . .

. . . everything but her impulsiveness; everything but her foolishness and innocence in believing she loves me.

Everything about her . . . especially her impulsiveness, and an innocent wisdom that should be cherished, not scorned.

He paddled her three times in quick succession, obliterating the confusing thoughts from his brain. His cock lurched in the increasingly confining material of his pants. Yes, this is what he needed. Lust would guide him through the bewildering brew of emotion he experienced.

Lust always did.

She couldn’t suppress her cry this time, and he paused, soothing the satiny, heating ass cheeks with his fingertips.

“I can’t believe you came to London,” he said, his voice vibrating with anger.

“I’d have gone farther to find you.”

He paused, his expression stiffening when he heard the quiver in her voice.

“Are you crying?” he asked sharply, studying the back of her head.

“No.”

“Are you in undue pain?”

“No.”

He tightened his hold on the paddle and swatted her ass twice. “This is the first time I’ve punished you without the clitoral stimulant. Perhaps the discomfort is trumping the pleasure,” he said, swinging the paddle back and landing it, snarling at the erotic sight of the blow reverberating through her firm, plump flesh. He grabbed his aching cock through his pants, wincing.

“No, it’s not that,” he heard her say in a muffled voice. She jumped slightly in her kneeling position when he paddled her again.

Curious as to what she meant, he pushed his fingers into the tight crevice of her thighs just above the binding restraint. Warm wetness coated his forefinger. Without making a remark, he withdrew his hand and whacked her ass several more times.

He would never truly control her, because she slayed him every time he tried.

Her ass was red and hot to the touch by the time he’d finished with her. She panted softly, and her cheeks were stained pink when he lifted her from the chest and placed her on her feet. He knelt before her, peeling the black elastic binder off her thighs and then down over her feet.