Perfection - Kitty Thomas Page 0,41

for a moment to think what to do with it.

Morgan is very attractive. And he seems nice. I'm not sure what S. T. would say about this, but I'm fairly confident that although he only officially owns me for three hours a week, that dating is not a luxury I'm allowed.

“She's married,” Frederick says, saving me from having to navigate the situation. Oh, yeah. I'm married. They don't know about Conall.

“You're awfully young to be so caged,” the choreographer remarks.

I blush at this and allow Frederick to pull me away from the awkward situation. My partner has taken a protective interest in me. If only he knew there are far bigger wolves in my life than Morgan Elliott.

I join Frederick and the other principals for lunch at a nice restaurant downtown that has a light lunch menu. We sit outside in the unseasonably warm day next to a burbling fountain eating as birds play and drink the flowing water.

“What do you think of the choreography?” Frederick asks between bites of pasta.

“I like it. I think it's going to be an amazing show.”

“It looked fantastic,” Natalie says.

“Do you think you'll be comfortable dancing with the blindfold on stage?” Frederick asks.

“Didn't I look comfortable?” Once we were taught the choreography, and I had all the steps down, I started doing the solo with the blindfold, leading into the pas de deux with Frederick.

He laughs. “Eerily so.”

Yes. Eerie. What a strange coincidence. Not only does the story of the firebird mimic my conditions of captivity, but the blindfold does as well.

12

When I arrive at the opera house on Wednesday, I'm wearing one of the charcoal-colored leotards, my hair in a neat bun. I feel the weight of the collar around my throat—the only jewelry he allows me now on this stage. The metal cage that ensnares his firebird.

I warm up at the barre in silence, the bright spotlight shining on me.

“Hello?” I call out when I finish, my voice echoing off the walls. He usually greets me when I arrive. “Master?”

I will never get used to this title he's demanded of me. It thrills and upsets me in equal measure. It elates and shames me all at the same time.

“Take off your clothes. Go to the table. Put on the blindfold, then bend over and rest your hands on the table and wait for me.”

I let out a slow breath. I do as my Master commands. Moments after I'm nude with my hands flat on the table, I feel his approach. He strokes my throat, my breast, the flank of my hip.

A moment later, I whimper as cold lubed metal slides into my ass. It's tapered at the top and then flares out at the base so that it fits snugly inside my body. The plug isn't too large. He's penetrated my ass with larger toys before; still, it's so unexpected this early in the night that it takes my body a moment to adjust. He strokes my ass for a few moments.

“Comfortable?” he asks.

“Yes, Master.” I'm not sure I would call it that, but I know it pleases him to hear me say these words, so I say them. My arousal is already climbing. Why won't he fuck me?

“Stay,” he says. I feel his retreat. Several minutes pass before I hear his voice again over the sound system.

“You can take off the blindfold. Put on the costume and the shoes.”

I remove the blindfold to find a gorgeous flaming red costume with layers and layers of wispy material, lying across the table along with a pair of red pointe shoes resting on top of the pile of fabric.

I'm about to protest that I need more time because you can't just put on a new pair of pointe shoes straight out of the box. As a dancer, he must know that. But as I pick up the shoes from the pile of red material, I see he's already done the requisite ripping of the satin at the toes, the scraping, the beating of the boxes.

I'm sure he's had these made for me in my exact specifications. All this information is on file with the company after all. With every other string he's pulled, getting that information would be nothing.

“You can test them to see if they're how you like them,” he says.

The ribbons and elastics aren't sewn in yet. Dancers always sew these in ourselves. We are very particular about exactly where to put them for our particular feet and comfort.

I slip into the