Ultra Violet

Chastity
Vicks

Emily is nervous around electricity, but Greg’s extravagant
Valentine’s Day gift of a violet wand piques her curiosity. With her beloved
Master guiding the way, Emily feels secure enough to explore her limits—and
enjoys what she discovers.

Greg’s sensual dominance opens her up to newfound pleasures
and together, Master and submissive delve into an electrifying new kink. As
Emily begins to overcome her anxiety, her lover’s expertise with the violet
wand brings a whole new meaning to “making sparks fly”.

A
Romantica®
BDSM erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

It was a very large box. She noticed that at once, her back
straightening as Greg placed the parcel on the coffee table. She was kneeling
in front of it, her hands folded demurely between her thighs and her head held
up, which meant that the box—in all its pretty, brightly colored wrapping
paper, pink and festooned with hearts as befitted the holiday—was directly in
her eye line.

It seemed like a very
big
present, and concern tugged
at Emily as she stared at it. Sometimes she didn’t feel worthy of the large,
expensive gifts Greg liked to give her. All right, today was Valentine’s Day
and people were
supposed
to give each other gifts, but the thinking part
of her brain said the whole holiday was one big corporate shill, mostly to do
with conning money out of people and guilting them into buying useless things.
And yet Greg never did anything because he felt pushed or manipulated. That
just wasn’t the way he dealt with the world.

To her, Greg was Master, the monolith of certainty and
security in her life, and she trusted him—and trusted
in
him—completely.
So…if Master wanted her to have a present, she would have it, no matter how
small it made her feel.

Emily wet her lips, looking up at his broad frame. He stood
on the other side of the coffee table, his arms crossed over his chest as he
watched her, a smile curling the edge of his lips. He wasn’t the tallest of
men, or necessarily the most handsome—not magazine handsome anyway, with his
ruffled pale-brown hair, his wide mouth and his narrow, blue-gray eyes—but he
wore confidence like a second skin. All he had to do was look at her with that
glint of knowing mischief in his face and she was halfway to lost already. The
dark-charcoal suit and deep-red tie he wore—the outfit in which he’d taken her
to dinner before they came back here to his place, where he fitted into his
surroundings like a lion astride the plains—had a very similar effect on
her…not that Emily minded in the least.

“Open it, little one,” he prompted, raising his eyebrows.
“It’s for you.”

His voice hit all manner of places inside her. It always
did, whether his words were sweet and smooth or harder, sterner commands. If he
wanted to, he could bind her stock-still just by speaking. Emily thrilled to
that understated authority of his, though she had to admit that she also adored
the more practical methods he liked to employ.

Still, she obeyed. She always did, and it seemed as if her
fingers moved unbidden, sliding beneath the edges of the seams to carefully
peel away the pieces of sticky tape from the bright-pink glossy paper with the
garish hearts emblazoned on it. As the wrapping began to loosen, she peered
shyly up at Greg, warmed by the smile on his face.

“Thank you, Master.”

His smile became a grin and he shook his head very slightly.
“You might want to see what it is before you thank me, sweetheart. Go on. I
want to see your face.”

Emily blinked, a little unsure. She hadn’t really speculated
what might be inside the box. Usually he bought her toys or things to
wear…things that they could both enjoy, because one of the first lessons Greg
had taught her was that her pleasure mattered. In surrendering it to him—giving
him control of her body, offering up the gift of her submission—she yielded
something so precious, and yet doing so wasn’t a denial or a diminishment of
her own power.

That
was a thing of value, he said, and it made both
of them stronger.

He was the first Master she’d ever had who said things like
that. When they first started seeing each other—introduced by a mutual
acquaintance at a local munch just over a year ago—she’d thought that perhaps
it was because he was a few years older than her. He had that kind of calm
maturity about him, though he was barely in his late thirties.

Of course, as their relationship had moved from friendly to
romantic, tentatively skirting the shores of possibility and pricking at those
first electric currents of compatibility, she’d realized that it was more than
that. Greg’s dominance was sensual, subtle…not the kind of crude, acquisitive
sadism her last partner had shown. Connor had only ever been interested in
making her do what he wanted for the sake of control. His demands had been
designed to exploit her submissiveness, to make her truly believe that she was
worthless, and the legacy of that still lingered in her.

On her last birthday, when Greg had presented her with a
silver play collar, Emily had cried. Not just at how beautiful it was and how
much the gesture meant, but at his kindness and at how badly she wanted to feel
worthy of it.

Now, as her fingers turned aside the layers of
heart-peppered wrapping, her throat tightened again and her stomach knotted in
anticipation. The box was much too big to be cuffs, so maybe a harness? He
loved the way she looked in rope, framed for him, so perhaps that was it…a
leather harness, or maybe lingerie that he could enjoy tearing off her.
Sometimes they bought cheap pantyhose and bra sets for just that purpose, and
very little could match the peaks of intensity Emily hit when, with her wrists
and ankles tied tightly, Master ripped off her clothes and fucked her with the
torn rags still clinging to her body.

She pulled the paper clear and looked down at the plain
white box, a small frown denting her forehead. No store or brand logo, so maybe
it wasn’t something wearable. It was far too huge to be a toy though, wasn’t
it? Her gut flipped as she worried that it would be something too big,
something she couldn’t cope with…but Greg wouldn’t do that to her. He wouldn’t
push her past her limits, wouldn’t make her do things she wasn’t equipped or
ready to do.

She trusted him, so she wasn’t at all prepared for what she
found when she lifted the lid of the box.

“Oh…”

Emily’s mouth froze around that little sound of confusion, a
maelstrom of disappointment, guilt and trepidation whirling inside her. Inside
the plain box sat something she’d never expected to see—a black poly-carbon
case that housed a violet wand, neatly gift-packaged and accompanied by a
series of complicated attachments, cables and a user manual.

It wasn’t what she wanted.

Damn it, he
knew
the thought of electro-play scared
her…why would he do this? And why today? Emily looked up at him, her dark eyes
wide and her lips bent around a soft sound halfway between protest and
heartbreak.

Greg just smiled.

“I know,” he said soothingly. “But I think you should try
it.”

Emily pouted. The lid of the box slipped from her fingers,
dropping to the coffee table and crinkling the discarded nest of wrapping
paper. She wanted to shout, to sulk and maybe cry, because of all the
inconsiderate, mean, unkind things… He
knew
she didn’t want this.

“I
have
tried it,” she said, dropping her gaze to the
floor because, despite how bad she felt, it still felt worse to disappoint him
with her ingratitude. “You know I’ve tried it. I hated it!”

The memory came back and she tensed against it, though she
was ready for it. Connor had been into the idea of electricity. He’d taken her
to a kink show once, marched her up to a booth where a guy was selling violet
wand kits and told him to show her what it was like. She’d been nervous to
start with—the idea was scary, and the wand itself had looked like a complex,
intimidating piece of gear, with a sharp metal tip on the end that had
frightened her—but Connor had grabbed her wrist and held out her arm and the
guy had zapped her just on the inside of the elbow.

Emily remembered the flood of pain, plus the shock and
humiliation that had washed through her as a little arrow-shaped mark bloomed
on her skin. She’d thought it wouldn’t be that bad. It wasn’t meant to be that
bad, was it? The fact Connor had just laughed—and the vendor had laughed, as
though they were both sharing some private joke at her expense—had made
everything so much worse. She remembered running out of the conference room in
tears and going back to the car, where she sat for more than an hour before
Connor decided it was time to go home.

Greg knew the story. She’d told him about it right at the
beginning, when they both talked about what they liked, what they didn’t and
what they would not want to do under any circumstances. Electricity, Emily had
said, was a no-go. No way. It scared her, and she didn’t want to be scared. She
didn’t want to be hurt—not really hurt, not the kind of pain that would last
more than a second—and she didn’t ever want to feel as though it was a
possibility.

She had thought Greg respected that but, as she frowned
petulantly at the violet wand, neatly nestled in its discreet packaging, she
caught herself wondering if he respected her at all.
This
?
This
was her Valentine’s Day gift?

Even the kinkiest couples could just have flowers. She
hadn’t wanted this. It wasn’t fair. And yet…and yet it was a very expensive
toy. Emily didn’t know much about the wands, except for the fact that they
hurt
,
but she knew the selection of electrodes in the box—each one made of smooth,
semi-opaque glass and each a different shape—and the assorted cables that sat
next to the main unit were not standard inclusions with most kits. Greg had
gone all out on this…and it was a hell of a purchase just for something to try.

Pressure welled at the bridge of Emily’s nose and her bottom
lip puckered.

She didn’t want to be ungrateful and she certainly didn’t
want to ruin the evening. She wanted to please him, to be his good girl, but
she couldn’t help feeling hurt by this, and the toy seemed to mock her from its
clean, clinical box.

“I can’t,” she murmured, a thread of tears already knitting
into the words. “I…”

Her voice thickened and she closed her mouth, not fully
trusting herself to speak. Instead, she looked up sorrowfully at Master and
shook her head.

“I know you said you tried it,” Greg said calmly. “But what
you tried wasn’t this. What you had done to you was wrong. This can be good.
Gentle. It can feel wonderful, I promise.”

Emily bent her head, studying her knees through rapidly
blurring eyes. She still wore the simple black cocktail dress she’d put on to
go out to dinner, teamed with sheer pantyhose and black pumps, and it had been
such a nice evening. Everything had been so nice…until now.

“Why?” she managed. “Why would you get this? I mean, it must
have been—”

“It’s a gift,” Greg said, his tone hardening a little in
that particular way that made her lift her head, understanding that he needed
her full attention. “You trust me, don’t you, little one?”

Emily glowered at him despite herself. She wasn’t sure she
wanted to be his “little one” right now. She wasn’t even sure she still wanted
to be kneeling on the floor. It had started to feel slightly less safe but, as
she looked into Greg’s face, she knew he was right. She
did
trust him.
She didn’t trust the violet wand that sat on the coffee table between them, but
she did trust Master. She sniffed heavily.

“Yes. But—”

“Good. Then you know I won’t hurt you. And you know that I’m
telling you the truth. Your fear is based on one bad experience. On that, and
on the fact you knew nothing else about electro-play. Right?”

Those slate-hard eyes gazed steadily into hers and Emily
squirmed, discomfited by this sudden solemn austerity of his. She nodded
reluctantly and a small smile broke across Greg’s lips.

“All right. So today is a day for gifts. I want to give you
the gift of conquering that fear. I want to show you that it’s all right to
test your limits, to learn about them…maybe find out that you enjoy something
you never thought you would.”

Emily wrinkled her nose. She wasn’t going to enjoy the wand,
whatever he said. All right, so perhaps calling electricity a hard limit based
on one bad experience at a vendor’s booth was a little strong, but…hell, had he
really had to broach the subject like this?

She frowned, her face heavy with suspicion as she looked at
him.

“Master, I’m willing to try, but I don’t think I’m ready
to—”

“We don’t have to use it tonight,” Greg said, holding up a
hand to quiet her. “Okay? For now, you’re just going to think about it. At the
weekend, we’re going to try it out. If you don’t like it, you don’t like it and
that’s fine…but at least you’ll know more about it. Does that sound fair?”

Emily nodded grudgingly, hating the fact he could make this
sound so disgustingly reasonable and hating the fact that, somehow, his
impossible calmness had started the tiniest tremors of curiosity in her. She
didn’t believe for a second that her Master would want her to try anything he
thought was bad, so could it really be as good as he implied?

“Does it sound fair?” he asked again, his voice firmer now.

She nodded a second time, raising her gaze to his. “Yes,
Master.”

Greg smiled. “Good girl.” He pushed the lid back over the
box as he moved around the coffee table, coming to stand in front of her and
placing his hand on her head, smoothing her blonde hair gently. “I don’t want
you to be afraid of anything, little one. That’s all.”

Emily leaned into the warmth of his palm, breathing in
deeply to catch the scent of his skin. Her pulse quickened just a little at his
touch and she bit her lip, eager to ask for what she wanted but still sulky
enough that she refused to beg.

He let his fingers trail across her cheek, taking her chin
between his forefinger and thumb, and his smile grew wicked, the light of
anticipation dancing in his eyes.

“Now…I believe someone still owes me a Valentine’s gift.”

Emily’s cheeks warmed, his touch inspiring tiny prickles of
eager expectation against her skin. It was funny really, she thought, that he
was so determined to have her experience the violet wand. He already knew how
to make sparks fly between them.