Page 1 of Black Light: Cured

CHAPTER 1

L ila

RELEASE. PURE AND SIMPLE. IT’S WHAT BRINGS ME TO BLACK LIGHT TO TRY A ROPE SCENE WHEN I

should be at home preparing for a grueling weekend. But honestly, nothing would have kept me away.

Not when the teasing allure of the ropes calls my name.

A shiver races down my spine as I hold my membership card up to the special light so I can get

scanned in. Already, arousal thrums through my body, making it hard to think, hard to concentrate.

Maybe it’s just being in Black Light that does this to me. Or maybe it’s the thought of trying something

new.

Tonight isn’t going to be my normal scene. From what I’ve negotiated, there won’t be the

perfunctory bend over and let some Dominant take their stress out on my ass. This will be one

hundred percent about me, and to be honest, it’s a bit nerve-wracking. Usually, the scenes aren’t about

me. I can hide myself in the pain, but not tonight.

It’s that niggle of self-doubt that eats at my insides until my gut churns with both exhilaration and

absolute terror. It’s not who I’m playing with that’s freaking me out—no one in Black Light scares

me… not really. It’s trying something new, something I’ve only ever seen and never done. What if I

don’t like it? What if I need to end early and the rigger isn’t done or satisfied?

Impact is so much easier. I’m not forced to be an active participant if I don’t want to be. I can get

the accolades, the ‘ good girls,’ the praise I crave, just for taking it. And since I can take a hell of a

lot, there’s usually no shortage of praise. I don’t have to expose myself or give anything of myself to

hear how well I’ve done, or just how much my ass has taken.

The bruises the next day just keep hitting that dopamine button, giving me a hit of that high praise

without words. But with rope? How can I get that same hit? Will ‘ you look prettyin my ropes’

translate the same way? Giving me that high I crave?

Once I have my electronics in my locker, I head to the bathroom to change. My fingers tremble as I

pull off my shirt and pants and stare at myself in the mirror so I can go through my normal, pre-play

checklist.

Sexy, cheeky panties—check. Do they match my bra or at least looks like I bought them from the

same store?—check. Bruises or abrasions from the last time I played—nope. Perfect. A blank canvas.

Turning once more, I grip the back of the panties and pull them up, revealing even more of my ass.