If she wasn’t so tired from the night before she wouldn’t have fallen, not that she would ever tell her Master that. He had left her plenty of time to sleep...she just couldn’t drift off with her legs spread and her hands cuffed to the sides of her bed, and her pussy aching for relief.
When they laid a hot blanket over her and told her to rest, she closed her eyes and fell into a dream-addled sleep. In her dreams, she visited a shop hoping to find a gift her Master would like. She ended up buying a baby giraffe but then it wiggled too much for her to hold it, and managed to get away. She chased it for a while, fretting over what would become of a baby giraffe in Paris, and then a bear had risen up and roared at her, How about me?
She realized the bear was offering itself as a gift and she led it down the road toward Avenue Montaigne, but then she noticed the bear was terribly angry. She realized there was no way she could control it and that it might hurt her Master. She decided to run away from the bear but in the course of doing so, she tripped over the baby giraffe. It had shrunk down to a toy size. When she picked it up, she felt annoyed that it was a toy and not a real giraffe at all—after all her worry. She stalked back to the shop where she’d bought it, intending to demand her money back, but then she heard her Master’s voice.
“If she can’t do the skill—”
“She can do the skill.” That was Jason’s voice. “She’s never fallen before today. You made her nervous.”
Valentina looked around the shop for her Master and Jason but the shop was fading along with her dream. She registered the warmth of the blanket and remembered that she was in the hospital. She peered through slitted eyes to find dusky, late afternoon sun filtering through the windows. Jason and her Master were there, conversing in low, sharp tones in the corner of the room.
“You’re harming her.” Jason’s voice again, very angry. “I couldn’t stand the way she cowered when you came over to talk to her. You’re making her skittish and hesitant. Weak.”
“I can do what I like to her. She’s mine.”
“For six more days.”
“Keeping track, are we?”
“Damn right, I’m keeping track.”
A soft, feminine voice interrupted their spat. “Daddy, Jason. You’re waking her up.”
Both the men glanced over at her, frowning. They started to argue again, this time in whispered French.
Valentina looked at the woman beside her bed. Sara, Mr. Lemaitre’s daughter. She was only a few years younger than Valentina, and universally loved. She didn’t look a lot like her father, being half-Asian, but she shared his piercing blue eyes.
“How are you feeling?” Sara asked. “Any headache?”
Valentina considered a moment and shook her head. “No. I only fell asleep because I was so tired. I had a...a long night.”
Sara looked uncomfortable. Valentina flushed. She and Sara hadn’t really hit it off, and being her dad’s slave only made things worse. Valentina tried a friendly smile, then nodded over toward the two men. “Please, do you know what they’re fighting about?”
“I don’t speak French that well, but I’m sure they’re fighting about you.”
Valentina pressed her fingers against her eyes. “Mr. Lemaitre is so angry with me. I drive him crazy and now I’ve messed up my act.”
Sara tilted her head, her guarded expression transforming to something a bit more sympathetic. “Everyone makes mistakes. He knows that. I’m sure he’s not angry.”
As if to dispute Sara’s words, her Master’s voice rose along with Jason’s, in sharp, bit-off tones.
Sara looked back at her. “Okay, yes, he sounds pretty angry, but not about your act. He’s angry because... Well. I think he’s angry because he loves you and he’s not quite sure what to do about it.”
Valentina stared at her. “What? He doesn’t love me.”
“I know my father, okay? He’s definitely falling in love with you, if he’s not there already. Believe me, I find this as awkward as you, but I want him to be happy and I think you make him happy in some weird, torturous way.”
Her Master turned away from Jason with a French expletive Valentina recognized. There wasn’t the smallest hint of love or even affection as he stalked over to her bedside.
“I hate being in hospitals,” he said, scowling down at her. “I hate looking at my performers in hospital beds.”
Valentina pulled the blanket up a little and scowled back at him. “I’m fine. I said so at the theater but you made me come here anyway. The doctor said there was nothing wrong with me, not even a strained muscle.”
“Yes, by some act of God. I’ve never seen such an ugly fall.”
“If Andrew hadn’t grabbed my ankle—”
“Andrew has been set straight on that account. As for you, I don’t want you to do the act anymore.”
All her breath left her. She turned toward Jason, taking in his irritated expression. Tears gathered in her eyes, tears of disbelief and pain. “Are you...are you serious?”
“I am completely serious. I don’t want you to do the act anymore, but Mr. Beck has convinced me otherwise. Fortunately for you, he has more faith in you than I have.”
“Michel.” Jason’s voice floated between them, a warning.
“When you sign on to do an act,” her Master said, his face reddening, “you are signing on to do it perfectly every single time. When you create an act that’s too difficult to perform—”
“I fell during an easy part,” she interjected. “It was only an accident.”
“There can be no more accidents. No one else has accidents.”
“Well, sometimes they do,” came Sara’s quiet voice.
He lifted his eyes to hers. “Whose side are you on, ma fille?”
“Your side, daddy,” she said with surprising steel in her voice.
The doctor came in and Valentina let out a sigh of relief that the uncomfortable conversation had been interrupted. The doctor checked Valentina one last time, gave her a clean bill of health, and handed over discharge papers. “Tonight, you rest,” he said in English, pointing at her. “Absolutely no activity. Call if any headache or pain.”
She looked sideways at her glowering Master. His frown deepened and he looked away.
*** *** ***
Her Master left her alone for one night to recuperate. Valentina spent it locked in her cage, ignored and despondent over failing him. If she could take that bobble back, she would. Horri
ble, careless loss of concentration, and now both her Master and her boss were displeased. She tore pages out of her sketchbook and shredded them into little pieces just to have something to do. She had plenty of pages left, after all, and not much time before her indentured servitude ended.
She’d never realized how busy he kept her until he had to let her rest.
Fortunately, the next night they were right back at it, up in his dungeon attic. He strapped her down in the dreaded chair, with only one dildo this time, invading her ass. Then he tied her legs apart, one to each front leg of the chair. He never explained anything he did to her, only did it with a dreadfully intent look on his face. It scared her to death. Once she was tethered around the waist, legs spread, ass impaled, he brought out a little vibrating egg and slid it into her pussy. It created a tight, uncomfortable feeling, but it aroused her too, because it didn’t only vibrate inside her. It also rubbed against the glass dildo in her ass, causing an answering vibration so her entire pelvis felt enervated.
He watched as she shivered in her bonds. Something in his regard, his haughty manner, ratcheted her horniness even higher. He was nude so she could see all of his hard, sexy body, down to the rising cock between his legs. She loved the way he flaunted his masculinity, the way he shoved it in her face, daring her to ignore it.
“Master,” she asked after a few moments. “Am I allowed to come?”
“If you can,” he replied.
Oh, she didn’t like the sound of that. He crossed to his collection of painful implements and selected a thick rattan cane, and came to stand beside her. “Why don’t you tell me when you’re close to coming and we’ll see how things go?”