Bound in Blue by Annabel Joseph Page A

against his palm. He pounded into her,
driving her into the bed, filling her with his power and his raw
sexuality. Her angel, her devil, her tormentor, her savior, her
guide, her teacher. Her lover.
    Her Master.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Jason drifted, basking in her, inhaling her
flowery, feminine scent.
    He moved his hand so she could draw breath
again, and stared down at her flickering eyelids. She was either
resting, sleeping, or passed out. “Sara,” he whispered, and her
eyes came open.
    “Yes, Master?” she asked, even though she
looked exhausted. So submissive, so willing. Such a treasure. There
were two kinds of “slave” girls. The first only pretended to serve,
while balking at anything they didn’t want to do, anything that
didn’t bring them pleasure. The second kind truly believed in
serving, in giving themselves up to Master’s will. The first kind
didn’t last long in the kink scene at the Cirque, even the
drop-dead gorgeous ones. The second kind...well. D-types fought
over them.
    No one’s getting you , he thought,
staring down at her. No one but me.
    “Is everything okay?” she asked.
    He chuckled, softening his expression, and
got up to throw away his condom. “I was just thinking that I need a
cage for you. Somewhere to keep you so you can never get away, and
so no one else can ever steal you.”
    She laughed, a cute, nervous laugh that told
him she wasn’t entirely sure he was joking.
    “I like cages,” he clarified, returning to
the bed, “but I won’t ever put you in one without your permission.
Well, without your consent.”
    “Aren’t permission and consent the same
thing?”
    Jason sprawled beside her and unbuckled the
belt binding her hands. “They’re kind of the same thing, but kind
of not. I don’t like to ask women for permission to do the things I
do to them, but I like to have their consent. Does that make
sense?”
    She stretched her arms and rubbed her wrists.
Jason checked them to be sure there weren’t any abrasions. When he
finished he brought them to his lips. “Did you like what we just
did, or was it too hard for you?”
    She squirmed under his regard. “Well…did you
like it?”
    “I didn’t ask if I liked it. I asked if you
liked it. And tell the truth.” He brushed a finger across her lips.
“Never lie to Master.”
    She was quiet for a long time, so long he got
nervous. Then she said, “I liked everything about today. Going to
Cirque du Monde, meeting Theo and Mr. Lemaitre, going to the show,
going for drinks with you. And coming here to your place...I liked
that most of all. But I’m afraid.” Her smile faded and her eyes
went dark. “I’m afraid I’ll wake up and find it’s all been a
dream.”
    “It’s not a dream.”
    Tension wrinkled her brow. “If Mr. Lemaitre
finds out we’re doing this, will he fire me?”
    Jason kissed the lines away and rolled onto
his back. “No, he’ll fire me. But if I begged hard enough he’d
probably hire me back. Lemaitre understands passion, sweet pea.
I’ll give the man that.”
    “You’ll give him...a sweet pea?”
    “No, I called you a sweet pea. It’s a kind of
flower. And when I said I’ll give the man that ... Look,
never mind. Don’t worry about anything.” He brushed back a lock of
her dark hair. “You look tired. How about a shower?”
    “Mm. Probably. I drooled on myself.”
    “Which was ball-numbingly hot.”
    “Ball-numbingly hot?”
    “Very, very hot,” he amended. “You’ll never
understand how hot. But it’s late and you’re probably still
fighting jet lag.”
    They showered together in his chipped,
claw-footed tub, and then he toweled her off, thinking how lovely
she was. Lovely hips, lovely breasts, lovely exotic features and a
stunning smile. Twenty-two. A mere baby. He was twelve years older. Twelve years older. He would master her as long as she
wanted to be mastered, but if she decided she wanted someone
younger, someone closer to her age, he’d let her go.
    “What’s