Bound in Blue

by Annabel Joseph

  “Did you know?” he asked, crossing to stand in front of her. “Did you know he was drunk when you went up there with him?”

  She hugged her arms over her chest. “May I have some clothes? Please?”

  “No, you may not have any clothes. Stand there and answer my goddamn question. Did you know he was drunk?” Jason’s voice resounded through his bedroom and she thought to herself, they’ll hear you through the air ducts.

  She stood quailing in only her thong panties, feeling doubly exposed to his anger. “No, I didn’t know he was drunk. He didn’t act drunk.”

  “Did you know he’d been drinking?” Jason asked with a mien of forbearance. “Did you smell it on his breath? Hear it in his voice?”

  She covered her face, then looked up into Jason’s accusing eyes. “I knew he drank at night, after practice. That’s all I knew. I didn’t realize...” She babbled out words, trying to exonerate herself. “I never imagined he’d drink before a performance.”

  “But you knew he drank. You knew he had a problem.”

  “Everyone drinks here—”

  “Wrong!” She flinched at his sharp tone. “Nobody drinks here before a performance. Nobody. Nobody drinks to inebriation, to the point where their judgment is clouded. No one here is a fucking alcoholic.”

  “Everyone drinks in Mongolia,” she cried, hugging herself tighter.

  “Does that make it okay? Your parents died in a drunk driving accident, Sara. I don’t understand this. I don’t get this attitude of looking the other way.”

  “Why are you so angry with me? It was Baat’s fault.”

  “But you knew. You knew he had a problem and you kept it from me. From everyone. You’re the only one here who spoke his language, who knew this was going on. It was your responsibility to let someone know he didn’t have his shit together.”

  Tears squeezed from her eyes. “Yes, I know. I just didn’t... I didn’t...”

  “Yes, you didn’t,” Jason muttered. He glared at her, his hands braced on his hips. “This will reverberate through the entire circus. Lemaitre’s going to pop an artery over this, and Theo—Theo walked out as soon as you were safe on the ground, to go have a mental fucking breakdown. He’s curled up in a rubber room somewhere, rocking in a ball. And you! You could have died, Sara. Minya the second. That would have been a fucking thing.”

  He stalked away from her. She’d never seen him so angry before. She wanted his tenderness back, his calming arms around her. She hunched over, swiping at the tears on her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Tell someone. Get a new partner. Deal with your problems.”

  “But what if something had happened?” she asked. “What if the new partner didn’t come, what if I lost my job?”

  “Lost your job?” He came back to her and grabbed her shoulders. “What if you lost your life? Don’t you get it? Baat could have killed you. Why was that okay, that risk? Why did you let it go on? You knew he had a problem, why didn’t you say something?”

  “Because I was trying to protect him. In Mongolia, families support each other. Baat’s the closest thing I have to family.”

  “No. This has nothing to do with family or supporting each other. Don’t play some cultural card with me.”

  “He wasn’t that bad, not as bad as you think. His friend sent him Mongolian spirits. He wasn’t used to them. You remember how potent they are.”

  “Don’t, Sara. Don’t make excuses for him.”

  “In Mongolia, drinking is normal. All men do it,” she persisted. “I know that doesn’t matter to you, I know you don’t believe me—” Her words cut off in her throat. He’d told her not to make excuses. Her excuses were nothing but lies, anyway. “Yes,” she said, defeated. “I knew and I kept quiet. I was afraid of losing the act. I was afraid of being sent home.”

  “They would have sent him, not you.” Jason let go of her. “If you’d talked to me, I could have told you that. If you’d confided in me, in anyone...” He shook his head, his lips set in a grim line. “You betrayed my trust, and Theo’s, and all of Cirque du Monde when you kept quiet about Baat’s alcoholism. What else aren’t you telling me? If you’ll stay silent about a big thing like that?”

  His gaze was awful, piercing and accusatory. She shook her head. “There’s nothing else. I swear. It was only...only Baat. I was so afraid of being fired. I thought when we got settled into a show somewhere, he would get better.”

  “Now he’ll get better, because Lemaitre will get him the help he needs. A process that could have started a long time ago.”

  Every word pained her. Each syllable of his displeasure felt as painful as a stroke of the cane. She’d deceived and disappointed her Master and she didn’t think she could survive how awful it felt.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, sobbing into her hands. “I’m sorry I made you so angry.”

  “No.” He pulled her hands away from her face. “My anger is not the issue here. The issue is that I might have lost you tonight. We all might have lost you because of this choice you made, and you’re the only fucking Sara we have. Do you understand that?”

  She couldn’t answer him. She was crying too hard. He pulled her into his arms, letting his breath out against her cheek. “Jesus, little girl. Why did you do this to me?”

  “I’m sorry,” she wailed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what I did.”

  “I’m sure you are,” he said, hugging her tighter. “Still, you’ll have to be punished for this.”

  She shuddered, shrinking in his arms. He was so angry. It would be a terrible punishment.

  He tipped her head back, gazing into her eyes. “You’ve been through enough for one day, but you’ll be punished tomorrow. Severely. Because I never, ever want you to keep a secret like this again.”

  She hid her face in his chest, clinging to him. “Yes, Master.” She wanted him to punish her because she deserved it, but she already knew she’d never keep anything from him again. It felt too awful when he caught her at it.

  He drew away and offered her a tissue to wipe her tears. She blew her nose into it too. She was a sniveling mess. While she cleaned up, he undressed and drew back the sheets.

  “Lie down on the bed.”

  She did as he asked and he came over her, spreading her legs apart. His lips brushed against her ear. “You know I’m only angry with you because I love you so much.”

  His quiet words started her tears flowing again. He kissed them as they fell, moving his lips across her cheek. He positioned his cock between her legs and pushed inside her. Pleasure mingled with shame.

  “Open for me,” he said when she tensed away from him. “I might have lost you, Sara. I want all of you now.”

  She spread her legs wide, as wide as she could, and trembled as he took her. His thrusts were steady and rough, a slow torment that roused her to a climax even though she felt she didn’t deserve one. She cried all over him as she came, squeezing on the length of him inside her. A moment later he groaned and wrapped her in his arms. Just before he came, he looked in her eyes and mumbled something under his breath. She thought he might have said “eternal,” but then his mouth was on hers and she couldn’t think about it anymore.

  * * * * *

  When Sara woke, the passionate lover of the night before had been replaced by a stern and silent Master. She spent breakfast exiled at his feet, in slave position, accepting bits of food when he offered them. They didn’t converse and she didn’t get much to eat, but she didn’t want it anyway. She was too frightened of the punishment to come. And after the punishment, she’d still have to face the other consequences, like Theo’s displeasure and Mr. Lemaitre’s judgment. She wouldn’t be able to work with Baat anymore, and that scared her most of all. What would happen with Cirque, with her career?

  She looked down at the pale blue stone on her finger. What if Jason reconsidered his pledge to her, now that he saw how selfish and deceitful she could be? All along he’d
been there for her, but she’d tried to deal with everything on her own. Stupid, so stupid. She gazed up at him, wishing she’d been honest. But so many of her fears were tied up in him, or more specifically, losing him. She didn’t want to go back to her old life without him.

  When Jason finished eating, he shifted in his chair and drew her between his legs to serve him. She licked and caressed his cock, bringing him to full hardness. He pushed his plate away with a scrape and grabbed a handful of her hair, burying himself deep in her mouth. When Jason took over there wasn’t much to do but endure his aggression and try not to gag too much. She was glad they’d begun the day with this. Kneeling at his feet, choking on his deep thrusts, all of it put her in the mind for powerlessness, and accepting the punishment she’d earned. As soon as he came in the back of her throat, he ordered her up the stairs.

  In his bedroom, he made her submit to the ignominy of a ball gag in her mouth. She hated gags for so many reasons: because they silenced her, because they were ugly, because they made her drool, but mostly because they signaled a hardcore session with a lot of pain.

  But punishments had to be about pain, not pleasure. She sank down into her slave pose at the foot of Jason’s bed and watched forlornly as he gathered equipment. Strap, paddle, belt, cane. One magnum-sized condom. She shuddered as he lined them all up in a row.

  Then he went for the spreader bar and returned. “Stand up and bend over the bed.”

  She hated that his hard voice and gaze turned her on when she was supposed to be remorseful. She spread her legs for the bar, flexing her toes as he cuffed her ankles at each end. She was too short to reach the floor in this position, so Jason had installed a clasp to hold the bar and prevent her from kicking or falling. Once that was all together she was stuck, bottom raised, all of her on display.

  She flushed as he slid a finger through her moist pussy. “Wet, are we?”

  She covered her face in shame, even though she knew it wouldn’t last, this arousal. He never, ever made punishments feel good.

  “Stretch your arms out to each side,” he said, then waited for her to comply. “I’m not going to restrain them. Do you know why?”

  It was a rhetorical question but she made a small sound behind the gag to let him know she was listening.

  “I’m not going to restrain them because you’re not going to move them. You’re going to lie there and accept everything you get. You deserve it.”

  She nodded. Yes, Master. But I’m so scared.

  “The pain is how you learn, little one. So don’t dare move those hands or get them in my way. You understand?”

  She made a bleak sound of agreement. A couple tears were already pooling beneath her lids.

  “I’m going to punish you until I feel you’ve been adequately corrected for staying quiet about your partner’s alcoholism.” She felt his hand on her bottom, squeezing, slapping, bringing blood to the surface. All the implements were laid out in front of her on the bed, so she saw when he picked up the strap. Immediately, the first blow fell. It hurt, it stung terribly. He wasn’t being gentle. He gave her another, and another.

  “Mmm...aww...oww.” She couldn’t stop the begging sounds that erupted from behind the gag, or the helpless squirming of her bottom. She tensed her shoulders to keep her arms as still as possible as the strap fell again and again in an awful rhythm.

  “Does that feel good?” he asked.

  She shook her head. No, it was too hard and sustained to feel good. When he played with her, he paused between licks, varied the tempo and severity, teased her clit to keep her turned on, but when he punished her, it was just wham, wham, wham until her ass was on fire. He used the strap until her cheeks flamed and she was breathless from crying, and then he put it down.

  Sara let out a huffing breath. Her ass throbbed along with her racing heart. She tensed her legs and curled her fingers in the sheets. She was lucky. She had one of those Masters who was impervious to pleading and whining, so there was no pressure to do either one. She only laid still and watched him pick up the slim pine paddle. It had holes in it, which Jason alternately called “sad holes” and “scream holes.”

  The first whack made her shriek behind the gag. She tensed her ass cheeks but that only made it worse as the walloping continued. It was so hard not to flail around and reach back to cover herself. Take your punishment. You deserve this.

  After ten hard smacks he stopped and caressed her pussy with the paddle’s edge. When the wood slid over her clit she bucked involuntarily. A moan tore from her throat. He answered with a tsk.

  “The problem with punishing you is that you think pain feels good.”

  She shook her head, but yes, he was making her feel good. She swallowed a sob as he slid the wooden edge over her entire slit. Then he put the paddle down and picked up the belt, and doubled it over. “Do you think Theo felt proud of you yesterday?” Whack!

  The belt’s sting was much more concentrated than the paddle. Each lick left a burning streak of pain building on the one before it. “How do you think Theo’s coping, after everything he went through with Minya? Do you think he enjoyed almost watching you fall?”

  Sara shook her head, keening behind the gag.

  “Maybe I should have invited him over here so he could have his own go at you. Really, Sara. After everything he did for you.”

  He brought the leather down on her ass again and again in the same spot until her hips danced on the padded foot board. Oh God, she couldn’t bear it, but there was no way to escape. She curled her arms up beside her head, grabbing her hair.

  “No. Arms to the sides,” he said, belting the backs of her thighs until she complied. “Stick your ass out and be still. You’re learning a lesson here. If you don’t learn it now, we’ll have to do this again another time.”

  Sara sobbed and shook her head. No, no, not again. But there would be times she would mess up and have to endure these punishments. That was the life she’d chosen, a life of submitting to her Master’s will, and his corrections when necessary. At last he put down the belt. Sara fought for breath, brushing her teary cheeks against the bedcovers. Her entire ass and thighs ached with waves of pain, but there was more to come. That was the worst part.

  He picked up the last implement, the cane, and tapped it slowly against the bed. It wasn’t the one he’d gotten in Mongolia—he only used that for happy scenes. This was his punishment cane. “I don’t want you to sit comfortably for a while, so you’ll get ten hard strokes.”

  Ten? She’d never survive ten, not on top of the pain she’d already suffered. She started bawling, squeezing all her fear and panic out through her eyes. He counted each stroke aloud, which made it even more awful. “One.” “Two.” “Three.”

  She screamed behind the gag as each whack came burning across her already fiery skin. I can’t. I can’t.

  But this is how you learn to never, ever do it again.

  “Four.” Horrible. “Five.” Nooo...

  Sara’s nails bit into her palms as she endured each slice of fire. “Six.” She hated Baat for causing her this pain. “Seven.” She hated Paris and Cirque du Monde, and even Jason a little because he was hurting her so bad. “Eight.” No, not hurting, punishing. Even if his stern voice and cane strokes would give her nightmares later, this is what she’d earned. She screamed at nine, and then he paused and she waited, dreading the final shot. It was the worst of all, a stroke across her parted ass, resonating through her tender center. It brought her no pleasure, only agony.

  But that was it. If he told her ten, he gave her ten. As much as it hurt, it had been a controlled and bearable punishment. Her body relaxed as he put down the cane. He stroked her ass, squeezing the painful welts he’d given her. He delivered a few final smacks with his hand, dull, hot spanks that wrested a moan from behind her gag. He ran his fingers up her spine and tugged her head back by the hair. A few jerks of his fingers and the dreaded gag was off.

  She felt his legs warm and hard against the back
s of her thighs. His grip tightened in her hair. “What do I always do at the end of punishments?”

  It took her a moment to find her voice. “You fuck my ass, Master.”

  “Are you allowed to come?”

  “No, Master.”

  “And we don’t use lube, do we? Beyond what’s on the condom.”

  “No, Master.” Her voice caught a little on the words. “Only good girls get lube.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  With a small sob, she reached behind her and parted her ass cheeks.

  “Wider,” he murmured. “Like I taught you. Don’t make me get the cane again.”

  It was so difficult to do, and yet he required it, so the choice really wasn’t hers. She pulled her cheeks wide and offered her asshole to her Master, to punish her as he pleased.

  “That’s better,” he said, spreading one hand at the small of her back. She clenched her teeth and tried to relax as he used his other hand to press his thick girth against her hole. The slippery stuff on the condom always got the head in, but the rest... She muffled her whine in the covers as he forced himself deeper. “Does that feel good?” he asked.

  “No, Master,” she said on a sob.

  “Because punishments don’t feel good, do they?”

  “No, Master, they don’t.” Punishments hurt like being pried open from the inside. Once he was fully seated, he told her to put her hands at the back of her head, and then he took her sore ass cheeks, one in each hand, and drilled her in a steady rhythm meant for his pleasure, not hers.

  It didn’t hurt hurt. He wasn’t injuring her, but each time he moved into her body it was uncomfortable. It stretched her asshole and taught her a very stark lesson. I’m in charge of you, and I hurt you when you’re bad. He could have sodomized her for an hour and she would have taken it. In reality, he fucked her only a few minutes before his strokes quickened to a more focused pounding. She heard a grunt and a sigh, felt him drive all the way inside her and fall over her back. He stayed that way, his balls hanging down against her clit. She wanted to grind her hips back to intensify that tickle of pleasure, but she didn’t dare. He’d fuck her again and really make it hurt, because this wasn’t about her.