Bound in Blue

by Annabel Joseph

  “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.

  Chapter Eight: Citadel

  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.

  Especially the sex acts.

  Oh God, she was fidgeting again. Jason was finally taking her to le Citadel, Mr. Lemaitre’s private nightclub for members of the Cirque. Jason made a big deal of it, buying her a sleek, tight black dress for the occasion, and an ivory satin corset with stockings to wear underneath. He said Lemaitre preferred black, but he preferred white, and so did she. Sara liked to play the innocent. She loved when Jason called her little one.

  The corset was beautifully elegant, with ribbons and lace, and wide garter straps that caressed her legs when she walked. Jason told her not to wear panties, so she felt naked under her fitted dress. The corset kept her sitting straight and held together, almost as if she were in bondage. She felt exotic and frazzled, on display, like a doll dressed for Master’s pleasure.

  Kelsey and the men were similarly dressed in black, per Mr. Lemaitre’s dress code. Leather and latex was also allowed, even encouraged. She’d heard gossip about what went on at the Citadel...dancing, drinking, partying, and lots of fetish and sex. When she pressed Jason to expand on that last part, he only told her le Citadel defied definition, and that she’d have to wait and see.

  But this meal was going on forever. Jason, Kelsey, and Theo were old friends and they liked to talk. Kelsey was from California, like Jason, with a bright, fun personality. She had beautiful, long, white-blonde hair that Sara wanted to touch, only to see if it was as soft as it looked. So far she hadn’t been brave enough to touch it, although Theo stroked it often as he talked to his wife. They shared so many fond kisses and caresses, and a lot of jokes and laughter too.

  Now Kelsey was telling Jason about her shoulder surgery, which she’d only had done to be proactive, because her left shoulder was tricky sometimes ever since she dislocated it. They talked about other injuries, and how diligent Lemaitre was in taking care of his performers. Then Theo made some crack about him taking care of them too well sometimes.

  The conversation ground to a halt and all three of them glanced at her. She lowered her head and shoved a forkful of fish into her mouth. “This is really delicious. All the seasonings and the vegetables and...what is this stuff?” She pointed to the grainy substance.

  “Polenta,” Kelsey said. “It’s supposed to be good for you, but if you don’t care for it, let me get you something else. I asked Jason what you liked to eat, but he said to make whatever I wanted.”

  “Because I eat whatever he tells me,” Sara said with a half-smile.

  “Ah, it’s easy to be the one on the bottom, yes?” said Theo. “Just do as you’re told.”

  Kelsey batted her husband. “It’s not as easy as you think. Maybe we should try switching sometime.”

  “I’m always happy to do switching,” he replied with a dangerous smile. “But it might not be the type of switching you hope for.”

  Jason burst out laughing at Kelsey’s flustered look. “Really, Kels? You would want to top Theo? He’d curse and complain the whole time, and top like crazy from the bottom.”

  “I’m a masochist, not a miracle worker.” She made a face at her husband. “Don’t worry, you’re secure in your mastery.”

  “Has anyone ever topped you, Theo?” asked Jason. “Lemaitre?”

  Theo shook his head. “We have a history, oui, but not that type of history. I don’t make a good bottom. I leave that to the experts.” He reached to take his wife’s hand, an easy gesture that spoke volumes about their comfort with each other. Someday. Someday you might have that with Jason. She hoped so…but she’d have to leave after the Exhibition, go to another city and another show, unless she could get into Tsilaosa. Jason said they’d find a way to continue their relationship, but it would be difficult, so far away from each other.

  When conversation came back around to the Cirque, Sara asked Kelsey and Theo about their experience with Cirque de Minuit in Marseille, and if they knew anything about Cirque Brillante.

  “I know it’s in Las Vegas,” Kelsey answered in a sympathetic tone. “That’s really it.”

  “Vegas can be fun,” added Theo. Jason didn’t say anything, just stared into his drink.

  “I wish I could stay here and be in Tsilaosa,” she blurted. “You were in that show a long time, weren’t you, Theo? Did you enjoy it?”

  Now all of them were staring very intently at the table. “I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it,” Theo said. “I prefer doing Minuit with my wife.”

  “I wish there was a way for me to be in the Paris show so I could stay here.” She knew she sounded whiny. Jason was giving her a cease-and-desist look. “There’s no trapeze act in Tsilaosa,” she persisted, “when almost every other circus has one. I don’t get it, and no one will tell me why.”

  Theo pushed his chair back and stood. “I’m going to get some air.” He strode through the kitchen, pausing by the back door. “You can tell her, but I don’t want to hear the story again.”

  Sara watched in distress as he closed the door behind him with a click. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Jason looked perturbed. Kelsey seemed on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry for whatever I said.”

  “It’s a little late now,” Jason said.

  Kelsey touched his hand. “Don’t get angry with her. She’s right, no one has explained. Why wouldn’t she question?”

  Jason sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Are you going to tell the story, or me?”

  “You should tell it. I’ll cry if I tell it.”

  Sara stared at her plate, mortified that she’d ruined their dinner party. She could see Theo on the back porch, staring out at the black night.

  “So,” said Jason in a heavy voice. “Tsilaosa had a trapeze act once. Duo swinging trapeze, with Theo and a girl named Minya. She was from China, and she was in a relationship with Theo. Not a serious one. Well, to Theo, it wasn’t serious. It was more serious to her than he realized. I mean, wouldn’t you say that’s what happened?”

  He looked at Kelsey and she nodded, too emotional to speak.

  “Anyway,” Jason continued, “Theo and Minya went up one night and they...they missed a connection. Minya went into a somersault but she turned the wrong wa
y. Theo managed to catch her but he didn’t manage to hold her. Or rather...” He looked under his lashes at Sara. “She let go. Later, they found out she let go. She’d cut the safety line before she ever went up, to be sure nothing saved her. She chose to fall.”

  Sara stared. “On purpose?”

  “On purpose. I guess we’ll never know why. Because she was mentally ill. Because she wanted to hurt Theo. I don’t know. Because she wanted to die for some misguided reason.”

  “She died?”

  “She fell almost eighty feet, little one. Yes, she died.”

  “I was there,” said Kelsey. “I was watching from backstage. I’d only just joined Cirque, and I saw her fall and hit the ground.” She covered her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. “And I remember looking up and seeing Theo waiting there, hanging down from the trapeze with his arms out, like he might still catch her.”

  Sara’s eyes filled too. She could barely process the vision in her mind. Theo’s partner had killed herself in the middle of a performance and left him to deal with the grief. She looked out the back window, at Theo, happy, joking Theo who stood so stiff and still.

  “I don’t think there’ll ever be another trapeze act in Tsilaosa,” said Jason. “It’s bad circus voodoo. After Minya fell, Lemaitre burned the safety lines she cut, replaced the rigging, everything. It’s been expunged from Cirque history, and that’s why no one ever talks about it. Why no one would answer your questions.”

  That didn’t seem right to Sara. “Wouldn’t it be healthier to talk about it? It’s not fair to Theo, to treat it like some dark, shameful secret. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Kelsey dried her eyes on the edge of her napkin. “I think he understands that, but it still hurts. It’s still bad voodoo, like Jason said.” She and Jason exchanged a look, then she went to the living room and returned with a light blanket.

  “These cool summer nights,” she said, holding it out to Sara. “Why don’t you take him a blanket while Jason and I clean up?”