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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.