Bound in Blue (Cirque Masters 2)

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.