Cirque Du Minuit

by Annabel Joseph

  “You don’t do things halfway, Kelsey,” he finally said. “You’ve got Theo at your feet, and now Lemaitre.”

  Kelsey shook her head. “No. Neither one of them is at my feet. I don’t think so.”

  He gave her a searching look. “Last night... You really were enjoying it, weren’t you? If I thought you weren’t, I would have stepped in. Fuck Michel and Theo. I would have stopped them.”

  “I wanted to be there,” she said. “I mean, I was scared and freaked out in the moment, but... I really like it, Jason. The dominance and submission. The power exchange, the whole fantasy underworld. I know you were trying to warn me away from it.”

  “Maybe I underestimated your strength. Because, as you saw, they don’t do it halfway around here.” He leaned forward on his knees and took a deep breath. “But you know, you can always walk away if you want. Theo is a pretty intense guy, and Lemaitre--”

  “I know.”

  “There’s always a way out. You’re not a real slave, not to them or anyone else. You do all this by choice.” He gave her a look. “Right, Kelsey?”

  She took his hand and squeezed it. “You were always a great coach. A little overbearing, but…”

  “Hey!”

  “All good coaches are. Oh, guess what? I’m off the Licky Stix.”

  “Really?”

  “Theo took them away from me when I made him stop smoking.”

  Jason stared. “You made Theo stop smoking? Jesus, I’ve missed a lot. So much craziness down here in Marseille.”

  They shared another good laugh. It was a relief to know the night before hadn’t done anything to threaten their closeness. “How long before you head back to Paris?” she asked.

  Jason looked at his watch. “About five minutes. I know you have an appointment to make.” He paused. “I could offer a little more coaching, but…”

  “Awkward.”

  “Yeah.” He brushed his thumb across the back of her hand and let it go. “If you ever need anything, Paris isn’t that far away.”

  “I know, Jason. Thank you.

  “Now,” he said. “You’d better get moving. You don’t want to know what he’ll do to you if you’re late.”

  *** *** ***

  Kelsey suffered the indignity of being made to wait outside Le Maître’s office for him to sodomize her. His secretary shot her occasional glances. It’s the circus. Everyone knows. Maybe the secretary didn’t know. Her glances were more concerned than lurid. Kelsey probably broadcast quite a bit of nerves.

  She was dressed in a sedate black dress and a cardigan sweater with little bows. Underneath her dress she wore black thigh high stockings and pink satin panties with polka dots. She didn’t have a lot of fancy clothes. But then, it wasn’t like he was taking her out to dinner.

  The secretary took a call and then looked up at Kelsey.

  “Mademoiselle, Monsieur Lemaitre will see you now.”

  Kelsey looked at the clock. Five on the dot. She thanked the secretary in a choked whisper and let herself through the frosted glass door. Michel Lemaitre didn’t look up or stop working on the document in front of him. Kelsey waited by the wall, her hands clasped before her, and studied him.

  Even in his tailored suit, behind a desk, he embodied the power and charisma of the organization he fronted. The power and charisma of the man she’d known last night. His fingers tapped quickly at his laptop, his blazing eyes intensely focused. Finally, after five minutes or so, he looked up at her.

  Her knees felt wobbly. One glance from the man sent her tumbling into subspace, all the scenes and interaction of the night before crowding her memories. “Come, Miss Martin,” he said. “Stand before me.”

  Kelsey walked over, sucking in a deep breath. Lemaitre--or Le Maître as she thought of him now--stood to his full height, a foot above her. He tilted her chin up and held it between firm fingers. His eyes met hers and she was so relieved she had nothing to confess. And she wouldn’t have anything to confess, not all week. She couldn’t bear the terror.

  “Have you made yourself come? Have you given yourself pleasure since we spoke last?”

  She was already shaking her head. “No. No, Master.”

  “Have you wanted to?”

  Oh, God. “Yes, Master.” She wanted to right now. He stirred up so many emotions in her. Arousal, shame, agitation, worshipful lust. “I--I wanted to, but I didn’t.”

  His eyes softened a bit then, roved over her face. “Because you wanted to be a good girl. Because submissive girls obey and put Master’s wants first.”

  It wasn’t a question, so Kelsey didn’t answer. He reached down and pushed a hand up her skirt. His fingers slid inside her panties, exploring her slick warmth. He made a sound and she shifted to give him more access. She was so wet--it was humiliating. He looked at her thoughtfully. “How difficult it must be for you. And the week is only beginning.”

  Her vision blurred. Her lips started to tremble. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to grind against his hand, to relieve the sexual tension tormenting her. But that would have defeated the purpose of all this. She shouldn’t even be having these thoughts. She was a failure.

  “What’s the matter, ma petite?” he asked, still teasing her clit.

  “This is...this is just so hard. I want to be good, but...what if I can’t do it?”

  “As I said, it takes practice. And you have to want it, really want it.”

  She nodded, too overcome to speak. He ran his fingers across her dampened cheeks.

  “These tears...they are ungodly beautiful. How does Theo deal with you when you cry?”

  Kelsey swallowed hard. “He--he ignores me.”

  “Ah. He is a heartless beast. He doesn’t deserve your devotion. But when do we ever? Come.”

  Apparently the time for talk was finished. He turned her toward the door and bent her face down over his desk, pushing up the skirt of her dress. He pulled her panties down to rest against the tops of her stockings, and gave her ass a little slap. “You gymnasts,” he murmured. “What an ass.”

  She heard the sounds of his belt unbuckling, his pants dropping to the floor. The tearing of a condom wrapper, and the cap of a bottle flipped open. “Open your cheeks for me,” he said. “Hold them open until I’m inside. You must let me in, mignonne. It will hurt more if you resist.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Theo had taught her that, but then Theo was not quite as large. She reached back in horny, abject humiliation to spread her cheeks. Tears leaked from her eyes, soaking Le Maître’s desk. He spread lube against her hole, working it in with rough fingers. It already hurt. Before she could panic, his hand was on her back, holding her still, his other hand pressing his cock forward.

  She braced and panted through the pain. He went slowly, letting her adjust, but it felt terrifying, like being split in two. At the height of the torment, when the head of his cock was fully breaching her, she cried out in misery. He pulled her hair back and chided her. “Hush. You must be grateful I’m being gentle with you. Thank me properly.”

  “Thank you, Master,” she gasped. “For being gentle with me.”

  “Does it feel good, girl?”

  “No, Master.”

  “Excellent.”

  Those were the last words they exchanged. He took her hands and trapped them at her back and rode her ass, in and out, in and out, for what felt like ten minutes. When she started to whimper from the sore ache, he added more lube and kept going. Finally, she heard him gasp and sigh, and drive into her with sudden violence. She went still, impaled by his cock, feeling the tremors of his body against the backs of her thighs. And God...oh God. She was so turned on at that moment.

  Le Maître pulled out. “Stay,” he ordered. He disappeared into the bathroom and returned a minute later to yank up her panties and pull down her skirt. She felt sticky and dirty as he drew her upright again. “Tomorrow at five o’clock, Miss Martin. In the meantime, don’t forget the lesson you’re supposed to be learning.
”

  As if she could. She walked home and took a long, hot shower. Her hands made fists to resist touching herself. What he’d done to her hadn’t felt good, but she was turned on from the perversity of it, the objectification. She had survived the first encounter with Le Maître, but that was about all she had to be thankful for. Theo forced her to eat dinner although she had no appetite, and over dinner, made her relate her entire experience in Le Maître’s office. By the end he was rock hard and Kelsey was horny again too.

  Theo pulled her into his lap and parted her thighs. He slid his finger along her wet slit, teasing her until she begged him to have mercy. She didn’t want to confess to Le Maître tomorrow that she’d given in to her own pleasure. “But I do this for my pleasure,” Theo had explained. “If you come from it, that’s your problem. Think. Concentrate on your Master’s desire, not your own cravings.”

  It was so easy for him to say. She begged and pleaded so piteously that he finally relented and pushed her to her knees. He came fast in her mouth, in a white-hot heat, so Kelsey was still simmering when he tucked her beside him in bed. She cried against his shoulder, thrusting her hips against his side in helpless need. He pushed her away and told her to behave. The ache was so strong, like a living thing inside her demanding to be heard. She remembered the feel of Le Maître bending her over, the pain of him pressing into her ass, and Theo’s gleeful stroking of her swollen clit. She finally fell into a restless sleep.

  The next day, all she could think of was her appointment at five o’clock. When she went into his office, Le Maître gave her the same firm questioning.

  “Have you been a good girl? Have you given in to your own need for pleasure?”

  “No, Master,” she said, already in tears. “But--But I can’t survive this. Last night-- I couldn’t sleep-- I so...so strongly want to come.”

  “Pauvre petite. But you can’t, can you?”

  Her fresh outburst of tears landed on his desk as he bent her over. He was less patient--and less gentle--the second time.

  By the last day, she was in tears before the secretary even let her in. Kelsey had tried, without success, to just shut down the sexual side of herself, but it was hopeless. Oh, how she suffered, and each time, Le Maître’s insensitivity to her plight disturbed her just a little more. One last time, he bent her over, thrusting lube into her asshole as she held her cheeks apart. By now, the pain was familiar, the stretch and burn of his cock just one more trial to live through before the end. She cried as he held her hands and fucked her, in, out, in, out.

  “Who do you serve?” Le Maître asked her, driving deep.

  “My Master,” Kelsey answered automatically. “I serve my Master’s pleasure.”

  “What about your pleasure?” he asked with a grunt.

  “That depends on my Master’s desires.”

  “Do you think your Master will let you come tonight, Kelsey?”

  “I hope so,” she whimpered as he pounded against her ass.

  “But if he doesn’t, what will you do, little one?”

  She was crying so hard she could barely get the words out. “I’ll wait for my Master’s pleasure. I’ll wait until it pleases him to give me permission to come.”

  Le Maître went stiff inside her, buried to the hilt. “Yes, you will,” he sighed as he climaxed in her ass with a series of pulses. He ran a hand up her back, then down over her ass cheeks. He squeezed them, rocking his cock in her. “I’ll miss these instructional sessions,” he said. “Perhaps I can give some refresher lessons if you ever again forget your place.”

  “Yes, Master,” Kelsey whispered.

  Le Maître withdrew, leaving her as empty and unsatisfied as ever. She didn’t move, awaiting his instruction. He left her while he went to clean up, then he returned and picked up his phone’s receiver. He had a conversation in French, and she knew it was with Theo. She heard a few words she recognized. The word for “good,” the word for “finished.” It was over. It was over. He hung up, turned back to her, and stripped her of her panties. He stood her up and pulled down her dress.

  “Run along home. Theo is waiting to reward you for your superlative submission.” Kelsey blinked, barely believing the words. “Well, go, coccinelle. I will keep these,” he said, holding up her panties, “so they don’t get in the way.”

  Kelsey actually ran. It was a chilly fall day, but she ran, her jacket falling off her shoulders, her hose slipping down her thighs. She ran upstairs, passing by Wayne and waving off his invitation to dinner. “Later!” she yelled.

  She beat on Theo’s door. He opened it wearing nothing but a smile. “I heard you were a good girl,” he said. She threw her arms around his neck, jumping up to straddle his waist. He kissed her, but then she pulled away.

  “If-- If it pleases you, Master-- Only if it pleases you--”

  He pressed his forehead to hers. “It pleases me, beautiful girl.” He turned and took her down to the bed. She was nearly sobbing with the need to have him, to feel his cock slide deep inside her. He pinched her nipple hard, toyed with her clit. “You please me,” he whispered, thrusting in her deep. “You please me. You please me...” Kelsey heard nothing but the instantaneous, screaming orgasm ripping through her, taking her apart. Theo tensed over her, waiting.

  “Again?” he asked. “Kelsey, you want?”

  Again, and again. Yes, she wanted. Five times in a row he made her come, and then she rested, exhausted, in his arms. The next day they stayed in with Lemaitre’s blessing. Theo fucked her over and over, and held her, and kissed her until she forgot who she was, until she forgot any world outside his bedroom.

  I serve my Master’s pleasure. Always. Forever. I’m yours.

  Chapter Fourteen: Lies

  After that, life returned to normal for a while. Michel Lemaitre left Marseille for Paris as the Cirque du Minuit troupe geared up for the final weeks before the premiere. Guy pulled the whole company together for rehearsals, and Kelsey still felt a little twinge of embarrassment when he singled her out with his gaze. Wayne continued simultaneously trying to date her while making her feel like shit. He cornered her in the kitchen shortly after her week of “training” with Lemaitre to ask if the rumors were true.

  Kelsey gave him a look. “Of course they’re true, Wayne. How could anyone make something like that up?”

  Wayne looked horrified. “I can’t believe it. Theo didn’t defend you from him?”

  Kelsey couldn’t think of a simple way to explain it all, so she just said, “That’s not how scenes like that usually go.”

  “What would your mother think, Kels?”

  She clapped her hands over her ears. “Please! Don’t talk about my mother right now. Gosh, just--”

  “Well, I wouldn’t have let Michel Lemaitre anywhere near my ass. He’s gay, you know. Who knows how many guys he’s slept with? He could have AIDS.”

  Kelsey rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about this with you anymore.” She reached into the refrigerator to poke around for the pineapple she was after. Wayne closed the door and grabbed her arm.

  “Hey!”

  “I can’t believe you’ve let them make you into this...thing. This person you are now is not the Kelsey I used to know.”

  “I haven’t let anyone do anything to me. I do what I want.”

  “I’ve known you since you were a little spitfire at the Laguna gym. What happened to you? To that wonderful girl you were then?”

  “That ‘wonderful girl’?” Kelsey laughed. “You never even acknowledged I existed. Don’t rewrite our history now in some attempt to shame me. I’m not ashamed, not of myself, not of my relationship with Theo.”

  “Relationship?” Wayne snickered. “Do you know the things he says about you behind your back? Do you know what people say about both of you?” Kelsey went cold. It wasn’t true. She knew it wasn’t true. Wayne’s gaze was dark. “It’s probably better if you don’t know what people say.”

  Kelsey looked down at his grasp on her arm. It w
asn’t true. Jesus, she had to get away from Wayne. Theo was right. He wasn’t her friend. “There are a lot of girls here, Wayne,” she said, shaking off his grip. “If my choices disappoint you so much, why are you still sniffing around me? Why do you pretend to be my friend when--”

  “I’m not pretending, Kelsey! Don’t you see? Theo Zamora is the one you shouldn’t trust! We could have been good, you and me. I would have respected you. Theo is only after one thing.”

  “I know! Okay? That ‘one thing’ is what I want right now. You can either accept me or not, but if you’re not going to accept me as I am, then let’s just...”

  He grabbed her arm again, this time with alarming force. His face changed, became a frightening mask she didn’t recognize. His fingers dug into her skin. “You know, I can do that same abusive shit he does. You think I’m just a nice guy, and you obviously don’t like nice guys. I get it. You want to be mistreated, right?” He shook her. “Hurt? Humiliated?”

  Was he insane? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “But you’re freaking me out, and I’d like you to let me go.”

  He fused his mouth to hers, practically choking her with his tongue. She pushed at him in protest, only to feel his arms clamp around her waist. She twisted to get away, but he only held her harder, trapping her against the refrigerator. Why did gymnast guys have to be so goddamn strong?

  “Mmph. Wayne--” He wasn’t letting her go. She stared into his eyes, wondering what the hell was going through his mind.

  “This is what you like, huh?” he asked. “The rough stuff? I can do that, see?” His mouth started suffocating her again. She bit down hard on his tongue, tasting her own panic.

  He pulled away, forcing her arms behind her back until her shoulders ached. His hard torso pressed against her, a prison at her front. “Does this get you hot, you little slut?” He started to push her downward. “Why don’t you kneel, then, and show me what a whore he’s made you into?”

  Her knee came up, hard and fast, into his crotch. He threw her from him, doubling over in pain.