Bound in Blue (Cirque Masters 2)

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.”