Page 3 of Black Light: Cured

severe frown.

“We don’t have to do this. If you want to wait or renegotiate something, we can certainly do that.”

“N-no. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.” The lie drips from my lips in a way that I hope is convincing,

but based on his raised eyebrow, I get the feeling that he’s not buying it.

“What exactly are you afraid of?”

Looking like a damned idiot in front of all these people? But I can’t say that out loud. I can’t

give credence to the words flitting about in my brain. Instead, I look up at him and shrug, struggling to

find some other lie that will work.

“That I won’t like it? That I will like it, but it won’t be enough?” That you’ll string me up in the

most unflattering ways and everyone will laugh at the ridiculousness? “Take your pick.”

His sinister chuckle floods my brain, releasing that hit of endorphins I’ve been craving. “Well, we

have no clue if you’ll like it or not until you try it. But as for it not being enough…. Rope is limitless.

I can do the gentlest tie on you then have you beaten within an inch of your life. I can put you in the

tightest of strictures until you can barely gasp from the pain. If you end up liking rope, I’m sure there’s

something that we can do to make it ‘enough’ for you.”

Unable to speak, I simply nod and force myself to relax. Of course he never addressed my real

concerns, but how can he when he doesn’t even know what they are? Besides, I don’t really know him

all that well. I’ve just watched him play and wanted a taste of what the other submissives were

experiencing. But I don’t know him well enough to confide my innermost worries. It’s far too soon.

“Remember.” His voice breaks through my thoughts, bringing my attention back to the present.

“We’re using the stoplight system. If at any point you need me to stop, call out red.”

“Yes, Sir.” Red. I can do that. It’s simple. Easy. It’s an out. Granted, I detest the very idea of

having to say it, but it’s there, nonetheless.

“Have you eaten anything recently?”

That’s an odd question. Tilting my head, I look at him for a moment. “No? It’s been a good couple

hours. I don’t usually eat before playing. That’s what midnight snacks are for.”

“Good. I don’t want you getting sick in my ropes.”

God. Something else to worry about. How many ways will I end up embarrassing myself? “Does

that happen often?”

“Thankfully, no. But being in ropes can be disorienting. I’ve had a girl puke on me while