Bound in Blue (14 page)

Now that they’d been tested and she was on
birth control, he could take advantage of her nakedness anytime,
anywhere, and he did. He took her on the couch, on the floor, in
the shower. On the dining room table in the middle of a meal.

But not today. She’d put so much effort into
cooking him Mongolian-style lamb and dumplings, and roasting
vegetables, and brewing aromatic milk tea.

“I feel like I’m back in Ulaanbaatar. All
that’s missing is the alcohol,” he said, winking at her. “And my
drunken haze.”

“You were cute in that drunken haze, but I
like you better sober.”

“I was ‘cute,’ was I?”

She blushed, ducking her head. “Cute in a
very dominant way.”

They shared a laugh, both of them lingering
in the candlelight. He tried to make time every day to talk and
learn more about her. She had a tendency to shyness around him, and
he wanted to bring her out of her shell. The urge was always for
bed, for slave games and kneeling, but there was a certain
titillation in making her sit and converse with him too.

“What do you miss most about Mongolia?” he
asked.

She looked around the items on the table. He
hoped she wouldn’t name a food. He wasn’t talking about those kinds
of things. She hugged herself and glanced over his shoulder. “I
suppose I miss the cool air. It’s hot in Paris.”

“In the summer, yes. Cooler days will come in
a few months.”

She looked at him and they both
remembered—she might be on some other continent come winter. They
hadn’t talked about their future together. It seemed too soon to
make plans, but time was flowing so fast.

“Baat hates the weather here,” she said, a
neat avoidance of the topic. “He can’t get used to it.”

“I don’t think he wants to get used to
it.”

She frowned, picking at a corner of her
napkin. “I invited him to come to dinner.”

“Let me guess. He scowled and said no.”
Thank God
, he added silently. Jason couldn’t stand Baat, and
Baat couldn’t stand him. He knew Sara and Jason were in a
relationship and he didn’t approve. It got to the point where Baat
refused to practice when Jason was around, asking, rightfully, what
business Jason had in the aerial facility. Then there was Baat’s
insistence that they be placed in Las Vegas, in
Cirque
Brillante
, probably to separate Sara from Jason. But nothing
would be decided until after the Exhibition, and the big boss had
the final word.

Lemaitre had suggested
Brillante
from
the start, but that was before he’d developed his little
tendre
for her. Jason wondered if he’d change his mind to
keep Sara close at hand. Lemaitre hadn’t made any overt passes
toward her, perhaps out of respect for her and Jason’s
relationship, but he showed up to her practices far more than was
normal. It was because of Lemaitre that Jason hadn’t given in to
Sara’s pleas to visit the Citadel—yet. The Cirque boss held court
there, in a bacchanalian, BDSM-equipped back room, and one didn’t
turn down an invitation to participate.

“What’s wrong?”

Sara’s quiet question drew him from his
thoughts. “Nothing’s wrong. Just thinking about work stuff. And how
many dumplings I ate. Too many.” He shook a finger at her. “They
were too delicious. Your fault.”

She smiled her sweet, flirty smile. “I’m glad
you liked them. And thanks for trying the
suutei tsai
, even
though you didn’t like it.”

He shuddered. Mongolian milk tea didn’t taste
anything like the name suggested. It mostly tasted like salt. “Sit
and drink the rest of yours while I clean up.”

She only sat because he ordered her to.
Otherwise she’d be fluttering around him trying to do everything
like a good slave girl. Honestly, there wasn’t much to do. She
cooked as neatly as she did trapeze combinations.

“So, what kind of work stuff are you thinking
about?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Are you worrying about me again? Why don’t
we both agree that your Master can take care of his own career?
Just as you take care of yours,” he added, collecting the
plates.

“I know you can take care of yourself. You
were a coach, weren’t you? Before you were a director?”

“Yes.”

“Were you ever a performer? Did you grow up
in a circus family?”

Jason turned on the water and leaned on the
counter, waiting for it to get hot. “No, I grew up in Sacramento.
Slight difference.”

“You did acrobatics in Sacramento?”

“I took gymnastics.” He shrugged. “Only
because my sisters took it and I was bored hanging out at the gym
with my mom. I got better than either of them, but I never used it
for performance. I did get a scholarship to a university. To
UCLA.”

“For gymnastics team?”

“No, I got too tall to compete.” Jason could
feel himself flushing. “The scholarship was for cheerleading.”

“Cheerleading? What’s that?”

He thought a moment, considering how to
explain cheerleading to a trapezist from the Mongolian wild. “It’s
a quasi-sport, an American thing. I did back flips and tumbling and
tossed girls up in the air and caught them. Like banquine, I
suppose, but less classy. There was lots of yelling.
Megaphones.”

Her forehead wrinkled at
megaphones
.
“Do you have any pictures?”

“No. There’s no photo evidence. And if you
ever tell anyone I cheered, I’ll spank your ass until it catches on
fire.”

She took a sip of tea. “You shouldn’t be
embarrassed. It was a form of performance, yes? I’m sure you were
very good at it. Very handsome and strong.”

He tucked the last of the plates in the
dishwasher. “I’ll put it this way. Cheerleading doesn’t scream
masculinity. Or intellectualism. But it earned me a free degree,
which my parents appreciated.”

“You have a university degree?” This seemed
to shock and delight her. He returned to sit with her at the table,
puffing out his chest.

“I have an
advanced
degree, little
slave girl. A Masters in Sports Science and Administration. Are you
impressed?”

She grinned at him. “I am very
impressed.”

“When you don’t grow up in the circus, like
certain lucky people, you have to get fancy degrees and claw your
way into the life.”

She snuggled against his side as he scooted
his chair closer to hers. “I never went to college,” she said. “I
only went six years to compulsory school, and then two years of
tutors in the circus. I’m not that smart. I could never figure out
math.”

Jason laughed. “There’s this stereotype that
all Asian people are good at math. But then, you’re different. You
can see that just by looking at your eyes.”

She covered her face. “My stupid eyes.”

He pulled her hands away. “What do you mean
by that?”

She was always so relaxed, so mild, but for a
moment he saw fierce anger in her features. “You think they’re
pretty, but I’ve always hated my eyes. They make people stare. I
want to get those contacts. The ones you talked about, that can
change your eye color.”

“You’ll get contacts like that over my dead
body. Your eyes are beautiful, Sara.”

“To you they are,” she retorted.

It wasn’t a tone he liked, or any tone he’d
ever heard from her, but he realized she was upset. “Are you going
to get all snippity with Master?” he asked lightly. “I wish you
wouldn’t. I gave you a compliment. You should accept it
gracefully.”

“I’m sorry.” She blinked and looked down into
her cup. “Thank you for saying my eyes are beautiful. I’m glad if
you find them...pleasing.”

“Come here.”

She gazed up at him in consternation, but he
wasn’t going to punish her. She looked like she needed a hug.
Something was on her mind, something she wasn’t sharing. Work
stress? The Cirque could seem overwhelming to new recruits. He
stroked her hair as she nestled her face under his chin. He
whispered to her that he loved her, that she was beautiful and
strong. He caressed her all over, massaging, soothing, squeezing
her ass that always carried bruises and marks from their various
sessions.

“Is everything okay in your world?” he asked
when he felt her relaxing. “Is there anything you want to talk
about?”

She paused—hesitated?—but then she shook her
head. “Everything’s wonderful. Thank you for asking.” Her fingers
curled on his arm, tracing his bicep. He wanted to take her
upstairs and fuck her to oblivion.
In a little while. Talk to
her first.
Part of his job as her Master was to look after her,
and develop her into the best person she could be.

He hugged her close and rested his chin on
her hair. “If you want to get a degree, little one, you can. I’m
sure you’re smart enough, and the Cirque has programs for
that.”

“The Cirque helps people go to
university?”

“If they want to. People can’t do circus
forever. Some performers get tired, or injured. The program helps
them develop alternative careers.”

“I’ll need to get a show first, I guess.
Before Mr. Lemaitre will pay for something like that.”

“You’ll get a show. There’s no reason why you
wouldn’t.”

“Unless something happened.”

“Like what?”

She was quiet a moment. “What would happen if
Baat got sick? If something happened and he couldn’t perform?”

He eased her back, searching her face. “Why?
Is something wrong with Baat?”

She looked away, shaking her head. “No, but
what would happen? Or what if I got sick? What happens when one
person in the act can’t continue?”

“Circus people don’t get sick very often.
What’s going on with Baat? Is he giving you a hard time?”

“Not really,” she said. “I’m just asking what
would happen if...if something happened.”

Vaguest question ever. He tried to quiet her
concerns. “If there are problems between partners, we try to work
things out. It’s best to stay with the partner you have, unless
things are really bad. In that case, the act is scrapped
completely. Which is probably for the best.”

“They get rid of the people?”

“They might offer them some other type of
act. It depends on the performer, their level of skill, their
variety of experience. How long they’ve been with the company.” He
forced her gaze back to his. “But you shouldn’t worry about any of
this. Lemaitre will keep Baat here. Everything will be fine.”

“But what if he gets sick? What if he
gets...cancer or something? Something where he really can’t
perform?”

“Cancer? Oh, Sara. I think you should worry
less about crazy stuff and start enjoying your new career. You and
Baat will blow everyone away at the Exhibition, and you’ll get
placed in a show, and then Baat won’t be so grumpy. Once you’re
performing every night, with the crowds and the applause, he’ll
come around. He’ll see how much better it is than Circus Mongolia,
or anywhere else, for that matter. For now, hang in there,
okay?”

“Okay, Master. I’ll try.”

“I’m here for you, baby, always, if things
ever get too much. But I don’t think you should worry about Baat
getting cancer. It’s not going to happen. And I’m not going to
worry about you telling Theo I used to be a cheerleader, because
that’s not going to happen either, right?”

She giggled and pressed her face into his
neck. “Don’t you think Theo would want to know?”

“Literally, I would spank you until you
died.”

She laughed harder and pretended to shudder.
“I wouldn’t be a very good slave if I displeased my Master.”

When she talked like that, it set him on
fire. “You please me, little one.” She looked up at him with her
sweet, adoring gaze and he thought,
Jesus Christ, I’m so in love
with you. Way too far in love with you, for being four weeks into
this.
He fondled her breasts, then down between her legs,
swallowing a groan as she ground against his erection through his
increasingly snug jeans. He set her a little away from him before
he lost his train of thought. “You please me so much that I have a
surprise for you. We’re going to the Citadel with Theo and Kelsey
this weekend. They’ve invited us for dinner, and drinks afterward
at the club.”

Her face lit up with excitement. “The
Citadel? Really?”

“Yes, really.”

She sobered, thinking over his words. “We’ll
just have drinks?”

“Maybe more, you naughty girl.” He laughed
and slipped a finger inside her, then two. “We’ll see when we get
there. It’s best to take things easy your first time.”

But Sara was never one for taking things
easy. She was his reckless, fearless slave, and she belonged in the
world of the Citadel. Theo had already pledged to help keep her
away from Lemaitre. With the two of them—and Kelsey—looking out for
her, Jason trusted that everything would be okay.

Jason leaned across Theo and Kelsey’s kitchen
table and brushed his lips against her cheek. “Stop fidgeting,
little one,” he said. “And eat something. You’ll need the energy
once we get to the club.”

Sara flushed, embarrassed to be chided by her
Master in front of their hosts. Not that Theo and Kelsey didn’t
understand their dynamic—Theo was the Master and Kelsey was the
slave in their relationship. They were also married, which
fascinated Sara. Theo and Kelsey were an established couple with a
long history. Though she and Jason were close, he was only her
Master of a few weeks. She stole a look at him as he chatted with
Theo about company business. She couldn’t help imagining what it
would be like to be Jason’s wife, to share a life and a home with
him, and entertain friends in a tiny Parisian kitchen. She thought
it would be heaven, even if he sometimes scolded her to stop
fidgeting.

Next time he glanced up, she was obediently
eating salmon and bites of a spicy, grainy tomato mixture, even
though she didn’t like tomatoes. Jason liked to make her try new
things, foods or activities or sex acts she said she didn’t like.
It upset her at first, but most of the time she ended up liking
them afterward, even the sex acts.