Because You Are Mine (Because You Are Mine 1)

“Submissive?” she asked weakly, her brain sticking on that part of his reply.

“Yes. I’m a dominant when it comes to sex, although I don’t require elements of bondage or dominance to get me turned on. It’s a preference for me, not a necessity.” He sat forward on the couch so that his dark head was inches from her belly, his nose near her sex. She watched as he inhaled and then briefly closed his eyes.

“So sweet,” he said, sounding a little undone.

She had no time to prepare for what he did next. He boldly plunged his thick finger between her sex lips and rubbed the cream thoroughly on her clit, his touch sure . . . electric. She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out as concentrated pleasure shuddered through her. “Tonight, I’ll punish you, and I won’t lie. I’m going to enjoy it. Very much. But I want you to feel pleasure as well. Your nature will determine most of that, but this cream will help to swing things in the right direction,” he said as he continued to massage the emollient onto her clit. He glanced up and saw her bewilderment. “I won’t have you trained to fear this. I don’t want you to loathe your punishments. In a word, I don’t want you to fear me, Francesca.”

He dropped his hand into his lap. His gaze returned to the juncture of her thighs. His nostrils flared, and his face went rigid before he stood abruptly.

“Over here, please,” he said. She followed him to where he stood in front of the fireplace. Her feet stalled when she saw what he picked up off the mantel—a long black paddle. “Come closer. You may look at it,” he said when he took in her wariness.

He held up the paddle for her inspection. “I have them made by hand. I just received this one last week. Despite my insistence that I would never really use it to the purpose, I had it made with you in mind, Francesca.”

Her eyes widened at that.

“I’ll make you burn with the leather side,” he said quietly. Warm fluid gushed between her thighs at his matter-of-fact tone. He flipped his wrist, sending the paddle several inches in the air, catching it as it fell. She stared in amazement. The other side was covered with rich-looking dark brown fur. “And soothe the sting with the mink side,” he finished.

Her mouth went dry, her mind blank.

“We’ll begin now. Bend over and place your hands on your knees,” he instructed.

She did as he demanded, her breath coming in erratic puffs. He came and stood beside her. She gave him an anxious sideways glance. The firelight gleamed in his eyes as his gaze ran over her body.

“God, you’re beautiful. It frustrates me that you don’t see it, Francesca. Not in the mirror. Not in other men’s eyes. Not in your spirit.” Her eyes fluttered closed when he reached out and stroked along her spine, then her left hip and buttock. A ripple of pleasure went through her. “You really do deserve to be punished for even considering marring this skin. So flawless. White. Soft,” he said, his long fingers trailing along the crack of her ass. Her eyelids squeezed tight. Emotion surged in her throat, confusing her. He’d sounded genuinely awed.

She didn’t unclench her eyelids until he stopped caressing her.

“Spread your thighs some and arch your back. It will give me pleasure to see your lovely breasts while I paddle you,” he said. She adjusted her position, arching her spine. She gasped when he reached forward, cupping one of her breasts. He lightly pinched the nipple, and she quivered in pleasure.

“Now bend your knees ever so slightly. It will help you to absorb the blow. There. That’s perfect. This is the position I expect you to take every time I paddle you.” She missed his plucking fingers and warm palm when he transferred his hand to her shoulder. “Your skin is very delicate. I’ll give you fifteen strokes.”

The leather side of the paddle struck her ass. Her eyes sprang wide, and she cried out. The quick flash of pain faded quickly to a burn. “All right?” Ian asked.

“Yes,” she replied honestly, biting her lower lip.

He swung again, this time smacking the tender curve of her lower buttocks. He caught her at the shoulder when she spilled forward slightly from the blow.

“You have a gorgeous ass,” he said, his voice sounding low and husky. He smacked her again. “I approve of your running. Your ass is sleek and taut and plump. Ideal bottom for spanking.”

She exhaled sharply as the paddle landed again. How was it that the burning sensation on her paddled ass was transferring to her clit? The nubbin of flesh felt hot and tingly. Ian landed another smack, and she couldn’t repress her cry.

“Hurt?” he asked, pausing.

She just nodded.

“If it’s too much, you can say so. I will soften the blows.”

“No . . . I can take it,” she said shakily.

He abruptly reached across her and cupped her hip, then pressed his crotch against her. She gasped at the feeling of his large cock throbbing against the side of her buttock. “There,” he said. “That’s how much you please me.”

Her cheeks flushed with heat. The burn at her clit amplified. He backed up and landed the paddle again and again with sharp cracking sounds. By the time he was ready to administer the final stroke, her ass felt like it was on fire. Perhaps he noticed the tremble in her thighs, because he murmured, “Hold steady,” and his grip on her shoulder tightened. He pressed the paddle into her stinging ass, as if carefully aiming his final blow. He lifted the paddle and swung.

A shout popped out of her mouth uncontrollably at the impact. He caught her as her body lurched forward.