Ultra Violet (3 page)

The smile didn’t entirely leave Emily’s face when she
glanced across the room and saw the case in which the violet wand sat, although
the nervousness returned again with a vengeance.

Greg saw her look and he nodded slowly. “Still worried, I
see. That’s disappointing.”

Emily’s smile did die then. She didn’t want to disappoint
him. She hadn’t been tied long but she could already feel the security of her
bindings stripping everything away, rocking her gently into that dreamy, warm
place where she knew he would take care of her. She shook her head but she
couldn’t find the right words to say that she wasn’t scared…because that would
have been a lie.

“No?” Greg raised his eyebrows.

The room smelled quite strongly of jasmine now, the scent
drifting up from the sheets on which she lay and wafting from the still-burning
candles. The shadows danced on the walls above Emily’s head and she wriggled a
little more, uncertainty tracing her flesh.

“You’re not worried?” Greg asked, cheerfulness injected into
his voice as he moved around the bed, going to the toy box by his wardrobe. “I
think you are, little one. But you shouldn’t be. It’s all fine. In fact,
I
think
that before we’re done here, you’re going to be begging me to use the violet
wand on you.”

Emily craned her neck to try to see what he was getting out
of the box, but he had his back to her so she thumped her head back down on the
pillow he’d taken care to position beneath her neck and mumbled a compliant
“Yes, Master”.

She should have known he wasn’t going to just leap into it.
She was grateful for that, really…but the teasing was excruciating.

He started with the blindfold—just a simple strip of black
satin wound once or twice around her head and tied tightly so she couldn’t see
what was coming next. At first Emily almost panicked, afraid he’d use the wand
on her without her being ready, but Master pushed that notion aside forcefully.

He started with a feather fan. She recognized it at once,
knowing the feeling of it on her skin as though it were an old friend. He
trailed it over her arms, her legs, her stomach, warming her up with soft,
teasing strokes. She shivered a little at each pass of the feathers, never
quite able to predict where he’d touch her next. Just as she was growing used
to the game, Greg switched up the tempo. He began running his hands over her
with his fingers loosely curled, his short, blunt nails ever so lightly
scraping her skin and, behind the blindfold, Emily couldn’t tell whether to
expect the softness of feathers or the rake of nails against her flesh.

She squirmed, shivering as the alternating, shifting
sensations raised all kinds of hell within her. She knew her nipples were rock
hard, like chips of stone crowning her swollen, sensitized breasts, straining
for his attention, and her pussy ached to be touched because her clever Master
was so very expert at absolutely avoiding all the places she needed him most.
Not until she was ready to beg would he touch her there…and maybe not even
then.

The frustration of being bound and helpless started to wear
on Emily—that familiar fire of yearning inside her that made her grit her teeth
and growl through them, tugging at the ropes that bound her and bowing her body
against the bed.

At once Greg withdrew completely, and she cried out in
lustful aggravation. That wasn’t fair! She bit her lip, stifling a moan.

“I’m sorry, Master,” she murmured, her tongue feeling thick
and awkward inside her mouth. “Sorry. Please… Please, Master?”

“Just a moment, little one,” he said, and she whimpered at
the sound of his footsteps crossing the room.

Where was he going? Was he getting the wand? Emily pressed
her head back into the pillow, the knot of the blindfold digging in just above
her nape.

She waited because he’d told her to, but all she had to
focus on was her own body and the sizzling bursts of sensation that still
sparked in her flesh. She was so wet and so very eager… Everything felt
hyperintensified, as if even the air had a texture, and her impatience had
rolled over into itself, becoming a new form of pleasurable torment that
stretched out her nerves and played them like a lute. Emily ground her teeth
and tried to breathe slowly, secure in the knowledge that any moment Master
would be back and he would take care of her…even if that meant the violet wand.

Greg returned as she was taking another deep breath,
counting to three before she exhaled again.

“Good girl,” he observed. “Nice and calm. Are you waiting
for me, little one? Waiting for me to touch you?”

Emily stifled a groan. He
knew
she was, the bastard,
but she nodded anyway.

“Y-yes, Master,” she managed, hearing the thickening of lust
in her voice, her lips stumbling a little over the words. “Please…”

“Please what?” he asked. “You want the wand? You want me to
zap you, hmm?”

Behind the blindfold, Emily squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
She was scared, she realized—more scared than she’d thought she’d be and more
scared than she’d been since before dinner—but her body seemed to have other
ideas. Her pussy clenched at his words and every inch of her skin felt as if it
were shimmering with this terrible anticipation. She was sure if she could see
herself she’d be glowing…and that was the silliest thought but she couldn’t shake
it.

Her mouth quivered as she mumbled a response to his question
and she could hear the rustle of Greg’s clothes as he moved closer, leaning
down over her naked, rope-sheathed body, his breath warming her neck.

“What did you say, little one?”

Emily turned her head to the side, urgently seeking his
face, filled with need for him. “Yes, Master,” she whispered. “Please. Yes. I…
Yes
.”

She felt the soft huff of his breath as he smiled, chuckling
lightly, and stroked her hair.

“All right, little one.”

Emily rolled her head back onto the pillow and bit the
inside of her lip. Her heart was thudding, her body strung tighter than a
bowstring as she waited, listening to Master’s movements. He was picking
something up, moving around the room…she was certain it was the wand, and then
she heard something like the
clink
of ice cubes in a glass. Had he
stopped to pour himself a drink? The absurdity of the image made her squeeze
her eyes shut so hard she saw bursts of neon blue behind her eyelids, and she
clenched her hands into fists around the rope shackles, the smooth nylon soft
beneath her palms.

“You better be ready for this,” Greg said quietly.

Emily whimpered in response, her mind melting into a single
thread of white fire, incapable of coherency. Being blindfolded while he used
the wand wasn’t scary anymore…she didn’t want to see. It was too easy to
picture the crackle of electricity, and she flinched just at the picture in her
mind before he even drew close to her.

The first touch was on her inner thigh—cold, sharp, and not
at all the way she expected. It felt like heavy fabric, almost like rubber or
something, but the sensation changed as it moved over her flesh. Emily gasped
as the coldness flickered across her skin, up toward the tender junction of her
thighs. It felt sharp, almost. A little like the tip of a knife being traced
slowly over her body, and she started to fight her ropes again, tugging hard at
her wrist shackles as her whole body jolted, partly in fear and partly in the
most unimaginably intense arousal she’d ever felt.

She wanted it. Whatever the hell he was doing, she wanted
more. She’d have taken anything from him at that point. Anything he cared to
give her. Everything. Just as long as he didn’t stop touching her. Except he
was getting closer and closer to her pussy, and Emily felt the cold whips of
panic ripping at her mind. The things that she pictured behind her eyes, the
things she was afraid of seemed to loom larger and larger, and she felt rather
than heard the choked, frightened gasp that left her throat. A wild,
high-pitched cry.

At that, Master pulled away and leaned over her to tug the
blindfold off. Emily screwed up her eyes, getting used to the dim candlelight
again as she let her gaze settle on Greg’s broad-shouldered frame. She focused
on his eyes, those beautiful chips of gray-blue slate, and the security she
found in them, shuddering as he put his hand flat on her chest, just below the
pearl harness and her pinched, hypersensitive breasts. He breathed with her for
a moment, bringing her back down, calming her with his strength and his
kindness. The shadows that danced on the walls seemed to lengthen and soften
around him.

As Emily calmed down, her gaze drifted to his other hand and
she frowned in confusion. He wasn’t holding the violet wand. He was holding
another toy she recognized—a plastic-handled whip about fourteen inches long,
with tongues made of tiny metal balls strung on to chains.

Suddenly everything slotted into place and, sure enough, as
she glanced at the nightstand, she saw a cup of iced water into which Master
had evidently dipped the metal whip. Blindfolded, she couldn’t tell what it
was, couldn’t identify the sensations caused by that tricky, devilish little
thing, and that stunned her, because they’d played with it before. She
knew
what it felt like. She
knew
how easily ice and heat changed the feeling
of those tiny lengths of chain, and she couldn’t believe how effectively Greg
had manipulated her mind.

She looked up at him, unsure whether she wanted to hate him
or call him an evil genius, but he was just grinning at her and all she could
manage to feel was a desperate flood of longing. His cheeks were slightly
flushed, his hard-on evident within his jeans, but she knew he wasn’t done
playing yet.

Hell, he hadn’t even gotten started!

“I guess that was a little cruel,” Greg admitted as he gave
her a moment to recover from the mean trick of the whip.

Emily shook her head, resting back against the pillow, every
single nerve in her body still flaming and a prickle of sweat itching along her
spine. Did he have any idea what he did to her?

“But,” he added, “you see how much of it’s in your mind,
little one? And did you hear yourself beg? Did you hear how you asked me for
it, hmm?”

He was moving the whip slowly over her stomach as he spoke,
twirling the little chains around the hollow of her navel. She nodded clumsily.
She knew. It was an unsettling feeling, finding that her body was doing all the
talking and demanding things she suspected she was still afraid of…but maybe it
was all right. Her Master wasn’t going to let anything happen to her. He knew
what she wanted, what she needed. He knew how to make it good.

Emily found herself opening her thighs wider as he stroked
the whip across her skin and a long groan left her as he trailed the cold metal
beads along her slit. It was the first time all night anything had touched her
pussy, and the flood of pleasure that hit her made her jump, her body jolting
and her hips pushing up in response, following that simple little touch.

Greg grinned. “Ah-ah. I think you’re ready, little one.”

Emily moaned softly and lay back while he moved away,
crossing to the box that held the wand and its assorted attachments. This was
it, then. This was everything she both wanted and feared.

She tried hard to put the memories of Connor and the vendor
with the metal tip out of her mind—that sudden scorch of pain and
humiliation—but they still bubbled up a little, even when Greg moved back to
her side.

“Here,” he said quietly, pressing a long, smooth metal
handle into her palm. “This is the contact probe. You remember how I explained
about this?”

Emily nodded dumbly. She knew he’d talked it all through
over dinner—they’d been through it a dozen times because he wanted to be so
sure she understood—but right now, she was barely capable of remembering her
own name. Master seemed to appreciate that, because he sighed and bent down by
her head, taking her chin in his fingers and making her look at him and when he
spoke, his words were as slow and clear as he could make them.

“Hold on to that, all right? This handle is the contact
probe. It’s what the current passes through. If you hold it tight, you won’t
feel the electricity in your hand but it’ll be in your body. You’ll feel it
when I touch you. So if you want anything to stop, at any time, you just let go
of the handle. Okay?”

His gaze bored into hers, unwavering and intense, the
candlelight painting beautiful spears of gold and orange across his face.
Emily’s lips parted, a small, dry “yes” slipping from her throat as she lost
herself in his eyes. Part of her still wanted to fight, to struggle in that
madness of intensity, desperate to get to him…but he was already here, already
with her. Washed by the tide of her desire, trembling under the weight of it,
she was ready to give in and ready to do anything, take anything for him. Wet,
aching and readier than she ever remembered being, she lay still beneath his
touch, silent and acquiescent.

“Good girl,” Greg whispered, cupping her cheek briefly, his
fingertips tracing the corner of her lips, the curve there mirrored in the soft
smile he gave her. “Good girl, my little one.”

She felt it as a physical ache when he moved away, even
deeper than the throbbing of her bound breasts and the needy pulsing of her
clit. Holding her breath, Emily stared at the ceiling as she waited for him to
bring the violet wand over. She watched the shadows skip along the molding and
squeezed the cool metal of the contact probe in her fingers, feeling it
gradually begin to warm against her skin.

She didn’t hear the violet wand at first. In fact, she
didn’t notice it at all until Master’s shadow fell over her again and she
looked up, catching the faint hum of the unit that she now noticed he wore
strapped in a holster around his waist. Emily blinked rapidly. She’d taken a
mental inventory of the apparently endless list of accessories and additions
Master had bought with “her” ridiculously expensive present, but she now
realized she’d barely remembered what half of them were. Everything was a blur,
a giddy spin of trepidation and this insatiable, unexpected desire.

Emily glanced nervously at the black unit on Master’s hip.
She’d been expecting the purple glow of the glass electrodes, the hand-blown
rods in those different shapes—curves and mushroom-headed swells, orbs and
rakes—and the sparks that would leap from the wand to her skin. She wasn’t sure
what to make of this and she squirmed uncertainly, staring up at him and his
slow, gentle smile.

Greg reached down to her, his strong fingers splayed out,
still smiling and still gazing steadily at her. She watched him, her breasts
rising and falling with each measured breath—two swollen pearls jutting from
her chest, tightly bound by the pure white rope—and her toes clenched into
knots as she struggled to stay as calm as she could.

He touched her thigh lightly, just tapping his fingertips
against her skin, and Emily caught her breath. She could almost have believed
she’d imagined it—just the tiniest tingle beneath his touch, like a little kiss
of warmth from skin to skin. She gasped, expecting a stronger shock…expecting a
stronger touch perhaps, and she spread her legs as far as her bonds allowed,
desperate for more. Greg touched her again, tapping the soft skin of her inner
thigh, each tiny contact sending an infinitesimal jolt of electricity between
them.