Page 107 of Risks of Temptation

"I see you've found everything in the room."

My cheeks burn with embarrassment. "I, umm..."

"Come," she says. She grabs three boxes, handcuffs, and a chain off the desk, tosses my clothes on the wood, then leads me to the sitting room. She points to the scorpion chair. "Sit."

"I need to see Malin."

She purses her lips. "That is not an option. And I am not here to be your friend right now. Sit."

"I need to see him," I repeat, more desperate than the last request.

"It's this or the whorehouse. What do you prefer?"

Oh God. There's a reason I'm here. This has to be better than the whorehouse.

I wipe my face and sit.

"Feet in the stirrups."

I obey, which forces me to fall back against the hard, cold leather.

She picks up a wrist and clasps a handcuff with the spikes on the inside around it. They aren't so sharp it draws blood when it presses against my skin, but I imagine it will if I move a lot in them.

"What are you doing?"

"You're going to be on display all night, Emilia. You cannot orgasm until Malin permits you. All night, you will want to. Every sensual temptation will be in the room. You will see things you've never seen before. Sounds of fornication will echo in your ears even when it's over, and it's just you and Malin back in this apartment." She hooks a chain on my cuff and secures it to the top eyelet above my head. She does the same with my other wrist. "The scent of arousal will linger in your nose for days after. Desires you don't know you have will surprise you, creating guilt and a need so potent, you'll beg Malin until you're hoarse even though you hate him."

"I could never hate Malin."

Darkness floods her eyes. "You will. You don't think it's possible right now, but you will. Hatred will make you resist wanting him that night. Even though I am telling you what will happen, you will still do everything in your power not to give him the satisfaction of begging him. And the Global Leaders need to see your disdain for him then your weakening ability to fight him until he breaks you."

"I will never hate him," I confidently claim again.

"You will." She does something, and the chain tightens so I can't move my arms without feeling the pressure of the spikes in my wrists.

"What are you doing? This is scaring me."

"Yes, I can see fear in your eyes."

"Bernadette, please," I beg.

She doesn't respond and shuts the cuffs on the stirrups, locking them around my ankles. She widens the bar until my legs stretch past the point I am comfortable.

"Too much," I cry out.

She tilts her head and peers down at my naked, restrained body.

"I don't like this. Get me out."

"No. There is no getting out. You must submit."

Why did I agree to this?

Breathe. You can't have another panic attack.

She pulls a plastic glove out of her pocket and puts it on. She picks up a tube of lube and puts it on two fingers then removes a four-inch black curved object out of the box. It reminds me of a whale but curved and with a wide tail. Her fingers glide over the round part.

"Wh-what are you doing?"