Surrender to Temptation by Lauren Jameson Page A

me out of my safe little bubble that I’d built over the last week, and I didn’t think I much liked it. “My pain, your pleasure?”
    I did notice that, despite the fact that I had just been marked by a flogger, my habitual panic had yet to make an appearance.
    â€œThink, Devon.” I glowered at him, not fooled by his soothing tone. “Did that really hurt? I don’t think it did.”
    Damn it, he was right. It stung, a bit like a paper cut, and it had startled the hell out of me. But it didn’t really hurt—not unless I counted the ache that was now burning between my thighs.
    Cautiously, his eyes never leaving mine, Zachariah again placed a hand on the object—the
martinet
. Clutching it firmly in hand, he rounded the desk, moving until he was again behind me. He tucked the handle between my breasts and placed his hands on my shoulders, sliding them down my arms to trace the stripes of my ribs and then to smooth over the skin of my back. One smooth movement and my bra was unclasped, falling in front of me. He caught the martinet that he had tucked into my cleavage with one hand and with the other spun me, twisting my bra at the same time so that my wrists were bound together in the pale pink fabric.
    â€œLean back.” He whispered the words. I felt as if I had been drugged, because I didn’t entertain any option, besides doing what he said, even though the rational part of my brain screamed that complying was insane. The cool surface of the desk pressed against my back, pulling at my skin as I squirmed with anticipation.
    â€œClose your eyes.” I shifted restlessly, my hips swaying awkwardly. I had never felt so needy, so on the edge.
    The edge of what, I didn’t know.
    I tensed, waiting for sharp bite of the martinet. Craving it, if I were being honest.
    Instead I felt the soft kiss of the cool leather dancing over my abdomen. I gasped at the sensation, so very different from what I had expected, but nonetheless pleasurable.
    â€œThis is how my mouth will feel when I get you naked and kiss you all over.” The picture sprang into my mind all too clearly, of myself bare and laid out on his desk, waiting for the touch of his mouth. I whimpered, just the slightest bit, and was hushed with the kiss of the leather over my lips.
    â€œSpread your legs.” I did it before I even thought about it, the fabric of my skirt riding up, exposing the edges of my stockings, the flush of my panties, and the inches of skin in between.
    The leather traced over my bare ribs, the valley between my breasts, my hard, tight nipples. I began to pant, more excited than I’d ever been in my life.
    â€œHold on to the desk.” I did, swallowing hard, wondering what would happen next.
    Instead of the flogger, I felt Zach’s fingers toy with the crotch of my panties. I moaned lightly and leaned into the touch, but he didn’t linger.
    Deftly, he pulled the fabric aside, and I felt slick pressure at my entrance. Instinctively opening to it, I was startled to feel something heavy and round being inserted in my most intimate of places, followed quickly by its twin.
    I tried to clench my thighs together at the strange sensation, but Zach was there to block the movement.
    â€œWhat . . .” I straightened up a bit to ask Zach what he had just done, and as I moved, the balls shifted. They created pressure in delicious, private places, and an unfamiliar ache bloomed through my belly.
    â€œIf you are to take this journey with me, then you must learn to trust me.” I was too distracted by the heavy sensation of the balls rolling around to ask him what he meant. “These are ben-wa balls. You will keep them inside of you until I say otherwise.” I shifted experimentally, and the balls moved, forcing sensations that were rich and impossible to ignore to flood through me.
    â€œBend over the desk again.” Oh, Lord. Bent over, the balls pressed heavily