Bound in Blue (22 page)

It was bedlam, with artists and staff
shouting, and Sara bawling, and someone blowing a whistle, loud and
shrill. Finally Lemaitre wrenched him and Baat apart and stood
between them. “Enough. That’s enough.” His voice rang out sharp as
a gunshot. The entire auditorium went silent, except for a few
muffled sobs. “No more trapeze in Paris,” he shouted. “This is why.
It’s cursed, and I tell you now, never again.” He shoved Jason
toward Sara. “Leave and take her with you. You,” he barked at Baat.
“Go somewhere and clean up.”

Baat was bleeding, a steady stream from his
nose and a swollen, mangled lip. Sara hid her face, a picture of
misery in her resplendent green costume and headpiece. The trapeze
rested on the stage, the ropes arrayed around it, tangled and
twisted. This one wouldn’t rise again.

“Come on,” Jason said as calmly as he could.
“Exhibition’s over.” With one final, vicious glance at Baat, he
took Sara’s arm and guided her through the crowd of sympathetic
gawkers to the locker rooms, and then outside into the oppressive
August air.

Sara shed her costume beside Jason’s bed
while he paced back and forth. Every now and again he stopped and
rubbed his eyes, and shook his head.

“Where should I put it?” She held out the
green leotard and the headpiece she’d crumpled in her hands on the
way over.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Throw it on
the floor. They won’t be used again.”

No more trapeze in Paris
, Mr. Lemaitre
had yelled.
Never again
. Sara folded the costume, her tears
blurring the sequins and rhinestones together into a green blotch.
After all her hard work, and Theo’s hard work, and everyone’s hard
work to put the act together, she and Baat were finished. Over.
This was a nightmare and there wasn’t any way to wake up.

“They won’t allow him back, will they?” she
asked, swallowing a sob.

Jason turned to her, his eyes blazing. “Do
you want him back? Really?”

She didn’t dare answer. Jason wasn’t only
angry at Baat. He was angry at her too. He’d held her and soothed
her all the way home but now...now he wanted answers, and she
didn’t have them. She realized now that she’d fucked up, that she’d
protected Baat one too many times.

“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.