Page 97 of Black Light: Cured

my pussy, I moan and clench around him, grateful for the distraction.

“Good God you’re wet, Lila. So fucking wet. Do you like it when I humiliate you? When I force

you to push against your boundaries?” I open my mouth to answer, but he cuts me off. “Rhetorical

question, my dear. I can see the evidence right here on my fingers.”

Holding them up to me, I stare at his glistening digits where my arousal shines against the matte of

his gloves. If the pulsing of my clit didn’t convince me enough, this sure as hell did. Locking eyes

with me, he eases his fingers into his mouth, tasting me, groaning as he licks them clean.

He pulls them back out and holds the cup underneath me, placing the rim against my delicate skin.

“You listen to me, Lila. You get any on me, and I’ll have to punish you. Understand? Make sure you

get it into the cup.”

Nodding, I sit there, trying to ignore the curious onlookers. Usually, I have no trouble going to the

bathroom, but then I normally don’t have an audience. Master Aiden slides his free hand over my knee

and runs it up and down my thigh. There are just too many sensations, too many distractions.

I bite down on my lower lip and close my eyes again, trying to convince myself that I’m at home

where no one can see me. After several agonizing minutes, I finally release. Sweet relief crashes into

me as I empty my bladder, giving Master Aiden exactly what he wants. After a few moments, he pulls

the cup away and lets me finish in the toilet, heat climbing up my face as I hear the splash echoing

around me.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispers, capping the cup and setting it next to his bag. “I’m proud of

you for pushing yourself for me. And you didn’t get any on me, so I’m doubly proud.”

His words rock me to my core, satisfying that need for praise from him. It doesn’t completely take

my mind away from all the people watching but it helps it be just a bit less humiliating. Beaming, I

watch him take off his gloves and set them aside before reaching back into his bag and pulling on

another pair. I reach out to wipe myself, but his arm jerks out so he can grab my wrist. “I’m not done

with you yet. You sit there until I tell you to move.”

I drop my hands to my side and watch, helpless as he takes his hand and rests it on the toilet paper

roll. No. No way. There’s no way he’s going to wipe me. That would just be too much. Too

embarrassing.

Groaning, I resist the urge to hide behind my hands as the metallic squeak fills the air. My face

flushes until I feel like I’m on fire, and yet, I remain silent as he eases his hand in between my thighs.