Page 129 of Black Light: Cured

“Now then… I’ve met with our mutual patient yesterday and he said all he’s done to improve is

massage therapy with you.”

I eye the bulb as I contemplate my answer. “I cannot say what he did outside my office, but inside,

I used various modalities to relieve the pain of his frozen shoulder and bring back some mobility.”

He dips the bulb lower, letting it hover right at my nipple. Sharp shocks, like small needles, flood

my system, drawing a gasp from between my lips. Much lower, arousal churns in my gut, and though I

can’t feel myself, I know I’m getting wet. He wasn’t lying or exaggerating when he called me a pain

slut. I live for stuff like this.

“That’s fair enough,” he replies. “So tell me this, then… when he first came to you, did you even

once think to send him to another professional?”

I blink up at him, that same kernel of hurt and resentment flaring up again. “You mean someone

like you? Someone that would just hack into him? No. He came to me because of you. He didn’t want

surgery, he wanted an alternative.”

The moment the words come out of my mouth, I regret them. It’s not right of me to snap at him, to

call his integrity into question, but damn it, this circle we’re going around in is just making me tired.

With a fierce frown, he turns off the violet wand, dowsing us in an uneasy silence. From outside

the medical room, I can hear the shouts and jubilant cries of other submissives indulging in their

preferred brands of play, but in here, it’s just Master Aiden and I and our professional conflict.

“That’s not the nerve I was trying to hit. I apologize.” Just because he says it, doesn’t make the

question sting any less. “It was honestly just curiosity. Mostly, I’m trying to understand why he came

to you in the first place and what made you decide to take him on as your client. I know scope of

practice well enough to wonder if this is in yours.”

I know exactly what he’s asking. He may not think he’s questioning my methods by asking a

simple question, but I know what really lurks behind his innocent queries. For him to bring up scope

of practice means that he still doesn’t trust me or what I do.

“Please, since you know so much, you tell me what my scope of practice is. I’d love to know.”

He sets the violet wand down and strides back over to me, arms crossed. “You seem to be under

the impression that I’m the enemy here. I’m not. I’m genuinely curious about what’s considered your

scope and what’s not. Until I met you, I thought all therapists did were relaxing techniques and happy

endings.” He raises his hands in defense at the stern twist of my lips. “Not correctly. But you have to