Page 124 of Black Light: Cured

It’s preposterous that they think I can’t take care of my submissive because we had one minor

kerfuffle in the beginning of our relationship.

As if Spencer and Klara’s dynamic had gone one hundred percent smoothly. I’ve heard the

whispers about them meeting during the first Roulette, and I’m sure if I did some digging, I’d find

more than a few skeletons in their closets.

Unfortunately, my snafu was public, not hidden away. Although the true predators—the ones

purposefully kept out of Black Light—never do their dirty deeds in public places. Granted, when I

propositioned her, it was technically in private, but I didn’t force her to touch me, and even if she’d

chosen to keep our conflict private, I still would have made amends.

Because I’m not a predator. I’m a good Dominant.

It was a misunderstanding, pure and simple, and now she’s my submissive. I’m not forcing her to

be in this role. In fact, since we’ve been together, she’s seemed to flourish, to become a lot calmer

and happier, with her stress lessening since I took charge.

Part of that is probably my insistence on the maids. They keep at least one major stress off her

plate. Knowing they’re also preparing her dinner so she doesn’t have to is something that brings a

constant smile to my face. The times I do spend the night with her, I see how drained she is, and it

hurts that she won’t let me do any more than I am.

If only she’d stop being so stubborn and accept my money… but I know that’s asking for a lot.

We’re in a dynamic, and we’re a couple, but that isn’t a guarantee for the future. I can understand her

wanting to be cautious until we have something a bit more concrete between us.

I could collar her, but then that wouldn’t necessarily translate into vanilla matters.

I could propose, but one, we don’t know each other well enough yet, and two, there’s no way to

predict the future. We could find something that neither of us are willing to move past, and our

relationship could fall apart. That seems about as likely as an asteroid strike, but it’s still a mess, and

it makes me feel weak and helpless. I detest it.

Something needs to give, but I have no clue what it is.

Even if I asked her to move in with me, to let me take care of her, I know I can’t demand she give

up her job and live on my money. She’d hate that. Plus, her massage career has always been more

about passion than about money, so that makes it even more difficult.

Though, if I’m being honest, it makes me appreciate her a little more to know she wants nothing to