Page 4 of Black Light: Cured

suspended…. It wasn’t a good look.”

Chuckling, I shake my head and let the humor of the situation slide over me, pushing out some of

my remaining nervousness. “I’m sure it wasn’t.”

In an instant, his face goes from jovial to serious, and I know we’re about to begin. My lashes

flutter closed as I force myself to feel what he’s doing instead of letting my mind fill up with

nonsensical worries. I tell my clients all the time to be in the present and, at some point, I need to

follow my own advice.

But this isn’t a massage session. This isn’t breathing through some deep work. This is new,

uncharted territory. A small thrill shivers up my spine as I open my eyes again to watch Master Dillon

pull the ropes through his fingers as if caressing them, imparting his essence into the fibers.

Scared or not, there's something about rope play that calls to me, and it’s high time I bring that

back to the forefront of my brain. Closing my eyes again, I conjure up the first time I watched a rope

scene. It was a sensual dance between Master Dillon and the submissive he was playing with.

I’ve never been able to see Cirque du Soleil in person, but I’ve watched enough clips to know

what an aerial act looks like. It was just like that, only with ropes instead of silks. Every time he

pulled, she moved. Every time he wrapped a piece of rope around her, she swayed. Back and forth. It

was a give and take between the two, a rhythm, a draw, an exchange of energy unlike anything I’ve

ever had the privilege of experiencing.

Although my impact scenes have always had an exchange of energy, but nothing like what I saw

between them. It’s that nearly pulsing, white-hot, sizzling allure that makes me stand here with my

arms outstretched, waiting for the first rasp of fibers against my skin.

If I’m being honest with myself, my fear isn’t so much looking stupid in front of people —I’ve

never once seen Master Dillon make anyone look anything less than spectacular—it’s more that I

worry the magic won’t be there for me.

I have to let go. I have to force myself to be in the present. What happens, happens. I wait there,

letting everything else fall away. The sounds start to dim as I focus in on my body, waiting for the

sensations.

All too soon, Master Dillon wraps the rope around my wrist. Nothing prepares me for that very

first scrape of the soft fibers on my delicate wrist. It’s toe-curling, mind-numbing. Shivers race up and

down my spine as endorphins flood my brain, leaving me high far quicker than any impact scene.