Bound in Blue

by Annabel Joseph

  “Oh God,” he muttered under his breath. He was so nervous for her, so stressed. Lemaitre turned to him but didn’t comment. Jason assumed the Cirque CEO would be staying in his Marseille residence while they were here, probably with a select group of his local slaves, but Jason had booked a hotel room closer to the theater and Theo and Kelsey’s place. Closer to Sara.

  Jason wasn’t offended when Lemaitre declined his invitation to dinner, but he was frustrated. It left him alone with his anxious thoughts. He ended up dining alone at a sidewalk café and walking around afterward. He wandered in and out of a couple jazz clubs, but his heart wasn’t in it so he headed back to the hotel. It wasn’t even eight.

  He took a long, steamy shower and distracted himself with some emails before bed. The sooner he went to sleep, the sooner tomorrow would come, and that was the day he got to see Sara again. Surely she’d talk to him. He could tell her all the things he should have said before, that he was her Master and she belonged to him, and that he had a cage with her name on it back in Paris, and that she’d been a very bad girl to run away.

  No, he couldn’t say that. He wanted to, but no.

  He had to tell her the other stuff, like how he couldn’t concentrate on work, and how often he checked Marseille’s weather. He had to tell her how sorry he was for squandering her trust, how empty his life was now that she’d gone. He’d tell her he’d do anything to win her back, even if it meant just being Jason and Sara for a while, without the Master/slave stuff.

  His phone pinged and he glanced down to find a text from Theo.

  You’re here? Marseille?

  Yes, he typed.

  Where?

  Hotel Arbruste

  Rm 17

  Come by?

  If Theo would meet him for a drink, he could pump him for details about Sara. Maybe he’d even take a message back to her. He waited a long time for Theo to reply, and when he did, it wasn’t the answer he expected.

  Sara wants to come.

  It’s okay?

  He read the text twice to be sure he wasn’t seeing things.

  She wants to come here?

  Yes, okay?

  I’ll bring her.

  Theo was going to bring her. Sara. Sara was coming back to him, just as Lemaitre had said. Whether she was coming as a slave or lover or friend, Jason didn’t care. He typed back the only word he could think of.

  Now. Now.

  Now now now now now.

  Chapter Seventeen: Re-Bound

  Jason wanted to run downstairs so he could meet her as soon as she arrived, but there were several entrances to the hotel. God forbid he missed her. In the end he waited in the room, pacing, going out of his mind. He looked down at his phone, reading and re-reading Theo’s texts.

  Sara wants to come.

  It’s okay?

  He didn’t say why Sara wanted to come, especially the evening before her big performance. What if she wasn’t returning to him? What if she didn’t want to be his slave anymore? What if she was quitting Cirque du Monde altogether, and coming to tell him goodbye?

  Theo would have warned him if that was the case. No, she was coming back to him. When he heard the knock he flew to the door, fumbling with the lock just as he had so many months ago in Mongolia. Hold on a second. Don’t go. When he opened it she was standing there beside Theo, blinking her beautiful eyes.

  “D’accord,” said Theo as they stared at each other. “Be good, you two.”

  Jason would have thanked him but he was already down the hall, and Sara was in his arms, hugging him, burying her face in his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeated over and over. His eyes fluttered closed. While she was away, it had been like missing some vital organ, his heart or his lungs, but now she was back and he could breathe again. He inhaled against her hair, remembering the smell of her, the shape of her, the weight of her against his body.

  “I missed you,” he said, clutching her close. “God, I missed you so much.”

  “I missed you too.” Her fingers dug into his skin. “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. I needed time.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m sure you were angry. But I’m back now, if you want me.”

  “Of course I want you,” he said. “But how are you?” He touched her hair, her face, her eyes, learning each part of her again. “Are you okay? Did you have the time you needed? I’m so sorry, Sara. I’m sorry I hurt you and lost your trust.”

  “You were trying to protect me. I realize that now.”

  He was supposed to explain all that, but she understood already. She possessed some new peace, some serenity he hadn’t seen in her before. She had changed during her time in Marseille. Grown, matured, whatever. She was different now.

  He squeezed her, trapping her in his arms. “I want you back, little one. Right now. We belong together. Even when we fight, even when we make mistakes, I want you beside me. I can’t be happy without you.”

  None of these words were enough to explain the depth of his feelings so he kissed her instead, a long, deep, searching kiss as he held her close. My lips. My beautiful body. My Sara. Mine. She kissed him back, pressing against him like she wanted to blend into his body. His cock filled and rose between them, and he shook with the effort not to throw her down and take her. Instead he broke the kiss and tilted her head back, and looked into her eyes.

  Such longing. She might have changed but she was still all there, his precious slave girl, adoring and eager to please. “I missed you,” he said, and this time it was a growl of frustration.

  She ducked her head. “Are you going to punish me for leaving? I deserve it. I should have forgiven you, the way you forgave me.”

  He wove his fingers into her hair and squeezed until her lips parted in a whine. “I understood that you were upset,” he said against her cheek. “Maybe someday I’ll punish you on principle. But right now, I’m more of a mind to reward you for coming back.” He undressed her, yanking off her shirt and jeans, tossing them over the hotel chair. She scrabbled at his button and zipper. They probably should have talked more, become re-acquainted with each other before they got naked and started playing, but this had been their mode of operation from the beginning. She wanted to be on her knees and he wanted her on her knees, staring up at him, waiting for instructions.

  “Master?” She clung to him as he stripped off her bra and panties. “You won’t...you won’t be too nice to me, will you? Because you missed me?”

  He chuckled and took her elbow, holding it behind her back. “Are you trying to top me from the bottom? Who decides how ‘nice’ I am?”

  “You do, Master.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said as he pinched and then slapped one of her nipples.

  “Maybe I’ll be so nice to you that you can’t stand it. So nice that it makes you sick.”

  “You could never make me sick, Master,” she cried, a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

  “All right, sillypants. Enough.” He twisted her arm a little further, pinched her nipple a little harder and pressed his lips to her neck. “Who are you?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “I’m your slave. I love you, Master.”

  His cock ached at every word. He ordered her to the floor and waited for her to assume her slave pose. She sat back on her ankles and parted her legs wide, arched her back and stuck her breasts out. So pretty. His cock rose hard and insistent in front of her face. She stared at it with such worship, such hunger. How on earth had he found this girl…and how had he ever let her go?

  He grabbed the back of her neck to bring her up on her knees and used his other hand to guide his cock into her warm, wet mouth. Her tongue slid along the underside, teasing, caressing. The pleasure almost took his legs from under him. He eased deep in her throat. She gagged, but then stared up at him as if to beg for more. The sensation would have been enough, but her enthusiasm made it ten times hotter. A hundred times hotter. Way too hot, actually. If t
hey didn’t stop, this encounter would be over before it started.

  “Hold on.” He drew away, fighting the urge to plunge back into her mouth. “I want your shoulders on the floor. Ass in the air. I want to see everything,” he added. “So spread those legs.”

  She complied, assuming the position he’d first put her in at the hotel in Ulaanbaatar, before he knew who she was, before he realized she’d be his for life. Her shoulders rested on the floor, her hands above her head. She spread her knees and arched her ass up just as instructed. It was a position of offering, of utter vulnerability.

  Mine. All mine.

  He made her wait like that, exposed to his gaze, for a full minute before he spoke. “Who are you?” he asked for the second time.

  “I’m your slave, Master,” she answered in a trembling voice.

  He knelt beside her to trace the neat line of her spine, the curve of her hips, and then he slid a finger into her pussy. Ah, so wet. He drew the moisture over her clit and caressed it. She moaned, but she didn’t move. She was his, truly his.

  “You don’t take pleasure unless I give it to you, yes?”

  “Yes, Master,” she sighed.

  “Do you want me to stroke your clit? Do you want me to make you come?”

  She twitched then, the slightest bit. “If it pleases you. I want what you want.”

  Jason let out a soft laugh. “I wish I had a cane. That’s what I want, to mark you. You don’t have any marks at all. You were away from me too long.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  He stood and went to his jeans, and pulled his belt from the loops.

  * * * * *

  Sara pressed her cheek to the floor. How she’d missed this...the fear and intensity, the pleasure and pain rolled into one. Jason was the only man who’d ever excited her like this, to the point where she would do anything, endure anything at his hand. As he pulled his belt from his jeans, she got wetter and arched her ass higher. Hurt me. Please.

  She sensed more than heard him draw his arm back, and then there was pain. Oww... He’d started with a medium-strength stroke just under her ass cheeks. She made a sound that was half agony, half jubilation. More pain followed, whap, whap, whap, fire licking against each cheek and then across her whole ass. Oh God, it hurt. The strokes rose in intensity because he meant to mark her. He placed them on top of each other to bring the strongest sting. All she could think was, more, please more.

  He stopped, rubbing the edge of the belt against her swollen clit. Now, she couldn’t help it. She arched back against it. It was greedy and undisciplined but she ached for his cock and her self-control was running low.

  “Do you still want whatever I want?” His low voice rumbled with an edge of menace. “Because now I want to hurt your pussy. I want to whip you right on your thrusting little clit.”

  “I want what you want, Master. Even if it hurts.”

  He rearranged himself so he was standing over her, facing away from her shoulders. He leaned down and slapped her pussy a few times, and already, that hurt enough, but he wasn’t finished. She whimpered as he slid his belt between her legs. Why did he make her wait?

  She knew why. So she’d have plenty of time to get scared. By the time the leather snapped down against her slit, she was beside herself, and the pain... The stroke felt sharp and awful, especially against flesh that was buzzing with need. “Oh,” she cried. “Please, Master.”

  “Please, again?”

  She made fists beside her head. “Yes, please.”

  He whipped her clit again, and again, and she couldn’t help but jerk. He trapped her hips between his legs to keep her still and then he whipped her continuously, sometimes on her clit, sometimes on her pussy lips, sometimes on her inner thighs. She stopped trying to be brave and let the cries and groans come. In his bedroom, he would have told her to hush, or gagged her to silence, but here he let her make her sounds. Soon, they weren’t groans, but pleas for satisfaction. Please fuck me, please fuck me.

  “Do you want to come, little one?”

  “Yes, please,” she begged.

  “I want you to come while Master’s hurting you with his belt.”

  Oh, God... She could do it, but it was so humiliating, to make herself come jerking off against the edge of his belt. You’re his slave. You do what he likes. She moved her hips as he slid the belt across her clit, alternately cracking her and tapping her, and then caressing her in a slow glide.

  “Yes, baby,” he sighed. “You come however I want, whenever I want. You look so beautiful, so hurt and turned on at the same time.”

  “Oww!” She cried out at the blow, as her clit exploded with pain. But then he stroked her and she could feel her orgasm blooming, a sharp promise of release. “Please, please...”

  Every time she said please, her pussy paid the price. Even with his legs bracing her, her hips were going wild, seeking a climax just out of reach. His belt’s going to be a mess, she thought. Good thing he had plenty of them. He could do this to her every day for a month if he wanted to, and never run out.

  He could do this to her forever, if he pleased.

  That was the thought that tipped her over the edge. Jason, her Master, her tyrant, her wonderful lover, he could control her forever. He could give her hurt, or orgasms, or even both at the same time. She gasped, her fists pounding the floor as her walls contracted. She wished he was inside, and then he was inside, driving into her, snapping his hips against her aching ass. Her clit felt hot and achy too, but it was the good kind of ache. His cock felt so huge inside her that her orgasm continued on. It was too much, almost too much.

  “I want you to come again,” he ordered. “Like you just did, only harder.”

  “I can’t.” Her body collapsed. She absolutely couldn’t do anything. He jerked her hips up and smacked her on the ass.

  “You can and you will, because I want it. Answer me. ‘Yes, Master.’”

  “Ow...yes, Master,” she cried as he spanked her again. She was so sensitive, so tense in the aftermath of her orgasm but he gave her no quarter. He took her pussy like he owned it, driving in, filling her walls so she felt every inch of his advance. He does own it, Sara. He owns you.

  He gentled, slowed his driving rhythm and pressed his hands to the back of her shoulders. Her clit ached and pulsed and her ass cheeks burned where he held them. “I love you,” she whispered into the floor. “I love you, I love you.”

  “What?” He pulled her head back by the hair.

  “I love you,” she said through bared teeth. She started to cry, not from pain or his deep, pounding strokes, but because she loved him so much. She’d missed him so much.

  He pulled out of her and lifted her from the floor. Next thing she knew, she’d been tossed across the bed. She held up her hands and he grabbed them as he climbed on top of her. He pressed his cock inside her, holding her down so she couldn’t move. “You’re mine,” he said against her ear, which meant so much more than “I love you.” She fought against him, testing him, but he didn’t let her go. His muscles slid over her skin, his power subduing her along with his cock buried inside her.

  “I’m going to come again,” she gasped. Because he was inside her, one with her, and it felt like heaven. She believed with all her heart that he cared for her and that she could trust him, even if he made mistakes. She’d made mistakes too. In the end, what mattered was that they loved each other and fit together in some perfect, eternal way.

  He let go of her hands and she wrapped them around his shoulders, and snapped her hips against his. He held her so tight she could feel his heart pounding against hers, and then the pounding transformed into the waves of her climax. The waves grew stronger, not weaker, until she felt the pleasure everywhere—her body, her mind, her soul. Jason arched deep inside her, grasping at her as he reached his own release.

  Sara went still beneath him, boneless in the aftermath. Jason shuddered through his orgasm, then he unraveled too, relaxing against her. He smelled warm and male,
and so familiar. She buried her face in his hair and wiped away the last of her tears. No more crying, she thought. I have nothing to cry for. She was back with her Master where she was meant to be. She felt happy and protected. Safe.

  And a little bit smothered.

  “Master,” she gasped. “I can’t breathe.”

  He rolled sideways and brought her with him. She looked over into his deep blue eyes and thought, they’re so beautiful. If his blue eyes are beautiful, mine can be too.

  He traced a finger down her cheek. “Okay now? You can breathe again?”

  Yes, she could breathe again now that he was here. She put her hand over his and traced his fingers. Her walls clenched, involuntary aftershocks from the power of her orgasm, caressing his cock that was still buried deep inside.

  “Mercy,” he said, laughing. “I just got you back. Don’t kill me.”

  “I would never,” she whispered.

  He leaned to kiss her forehead and ended up kissing all over her face, all over the residual tracks of her tears. “Who are you? I want to ask it a million times.”

  “I’d answer a million times. I’m your slave. I love you so much.”

  “I love you more than that,” he said, shaking his head. “I love you too much to find any peace of mind, but that’s okay. You’re worth it.” He screwed his face into a threatening mask. “But if you ever leave me again...so help me.”

  She squirmed as he gave her another set of spanks. Then he levered himself up to check out her backside. “That’s more like it. Your ass needs color. Always.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  He pulled away from her, fixed her with a look and said, “Stay.”

  She watched from the bed as he went over to his luggage and pulled out a box she recognized. Her promise ring was inside, still tied with her little blue bow. He came back to the bed and dangled it in front of her eyes. “I’ll give this back to you on one condition.”