Make Me, Sir

Chapter Seven

Carrying a tray full of drinks, Gabi paused as the members watching a noisy ménage session blocked her path. She shook her head. The whole place was filled. How wonderful. More people to laugh at her getting in trouble.

She had a feeling tonight wouldn’t be nearly as pleasant as last night.

On Friday, she’d pushed herself to extreme brattiness, but aside from one swarthy dom and the bartender, who’d both punished her, no one seemed to care. Marcus had arrived late, then done a scene with that blonde, so he hadn’t had a chance to give her hell.

Marcus is here tonight. The knowledge sent excitement skittering along her nerves.

When the submissive in the ménage scene groaned, one of her doms laughed. Curious, Gabi edged her way forward. Unfortunately she got too close to the dom in black leathers who’d called her insolent, the one named Master Dan.

He frowned at her and jerked his head, a silent get back to work. He sure wasn’t very nice. Why did some of the doms act like they owned her and others didn’t?

When he turned his back, she stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes. Laughter rippled around her, and the pregnant sub tucked under his arm giggled. Grinning, Gabi returned to the bar. That had felt good.

As she walked out of the crowd, she glanced over her shoulder and noticed the golden armband circling Master Dan’s bicep. Interesting. Sam and Cullen both wore those gold bands. So did Master Marcus. Once safely out of Dan’s sight, she stopped to scan the room. Apparently only a few doms wore armbands: the swarthy, muscular dom she’d met-to her misfortune-a domme with a male sub, another domme with a female sub.

When the brunette trainee walked past, Gabi stopped her. “I know dungeon monitors wear gold-trimmed vests, but what’s with the armbands?” She nodded at the two dommes. “Do those gold bands mean anything?”

“Oooh, girlfriend, did we forget to warn you about them?” Sally rolled her eyes and grinned. “Those identify the Shadowlands Masters.”

“And that’s different from a dom how?”

Sally rested her tray on her hip and thought for a second. “Okay, you know how some doms are just a little dominating like maybe a one-scoop ice cream, and others have a lot more-maybe two scoops of domination?”

Gabi nodded.

“Well, with the Masters, think supersized hot fudge sundae.” Sally giggled. “And that’s only the domination part. Add in beaucoup experience and control and all that. They’re voted Master status by the members, and it’s sure not a popularity contest.”

“Oh. Got it.”

“Masters are the best to play with, but…” Sally wrinkled her nose. “Although the regular doms can boss us a little, they have to ask Marcus for permission to do anything else. But the Masters are supposed to help with the trainees, so they can pull you into a scene or use you for a demonstration. And if you’re bratty and Marcus isn’t around, they’ll punish you themselves.”

“Now you tell me.” Gabi scowled. “That Hispanic one with all the muscles? Last night, he came down on me like a load of bricks-put me in the stocks and allowed anybody who thought I’d insulted them to whack me with a paddle.”

“Ouch. I wondered how you ended up there. Master Raoul’s usually more forgiving than Marcus. You must have been even naughtier than me.” Laughing, Sally tsk-tsked at Gabi before responding to a dom’s wave for service.

Gabi slowly headed for the bar. So that’s why the regular doms hadn’t done anything about her behavior. Looks like she’d need to concentrate on upsetting the Masters. Oh doesn’t that just sound like fun?

As she neared the bar, she spotted Master Marcus. God, he was gorgeous…and dangerous. Despite his deceptively lazy stance, power seemed to radiate from him, and when his sharp blue gaze landed on Gabi, electricity sizzled like a cut power cord, throwing sparks everywhere.

Next to Marcus stood a rough-looking man in a black, sleeveless T-shirt and a gold band on his arm. Scars on the man’s face and hands created white lines over his dark red-brown skin. As his unwavering, black eyes watched her approach, Gabi seriously considered detouring around both him and Marcus. But as she hesitated, she spotted Agent Rhodes at the end of the bar, reminding her of the stakes involved.

Okay, Kim-this is for you, honey. Jaw tensed, she headed straight for Marcus and the other guy. She forced a cocky grin and greeted Marcus. “Hey, hot stuff.”

His smile died. “Gabrielle, you don’t want to do this.”

Ignoring the way his voice made her insides tap-dance, she turned to his tough friend. “Hey, buddy, how’s it hanging?”

Marcus’s lips pressed into a straight line.

A flash of amusement flickered in his friend’s eyes before disappearing into darkness. “Your new trainee, Marcus?”

“I’m afraid so. Gabrielle, this is Master Nolan.” Marcus tilted his head at her quizzically. “How long did it take before you could sit comfortably after last Saturday?”

Two whole days. She took an involuntary step back, then made herself walk around them to set her tray down. Leaning an elbow on the bar top, she said breezily, “Oh, not that long.”

Master Marcus’s intent gaze moved over her face, her body, lingering on her hands.

She felt her hand rubbing the scar on her cheek. Oops. After tucking her hair behind an ear, she plastered on a nonchalant grin.

Marcus saw his puzzlement duplicated in Nolan’s eyes. Gabrielle wasn’t as confident as she tried to sound. His mention of spanking had tensed every muscle in that pretty little body and paled her face. Now her fingers traced the long scar on her cheek, which he’d learned meant she’d jumped past anxiety into fear.

Why did she keep pushing to get punished?

Some submissives craved pain, but she wasn’t one of them. Some wanted attention, and he still wasn’t convinced she didn’t…but she seemed genuinely mortified by spectators. Some subs’ only method of relating to people was to behave like brats, but Gabrielle was a naturally friendly person. She had an infectious laugh, chatted easily, and charmed everyone. In fact, almost every single dom in the place had requested to do a scene with her.

He found most of her sassy behavior downright cute. Except for the times like now when she deliberately antagonized a dom.

As Marcus studied her, she swallowed and shifted her weight, her eyes darting away. Definitely scared.

Dammit. Spanking her hadn’t worked, and he doubted he could stomach hitting her harder. But his responsibility as a trainer demanded he teach her the consequences of insolence.

“Hot stuff,” she’d called him? “Master Nolan, could I request that you please keep her here for me?”

“You got it.” Nolan curled his hand around her upper arm, not even appearing to notice her instinctive attempt to retreat.

“Let me go!” She slapped at him. “You’re not my boss.”

Her loud protests continued as Marcus retrieved his toy bag from behind the bar, and amusement mingled with his concern. He’d spent a lot of time thinking about her, wondering what to do with her…and trying to remember he was her trainer and nothing more. Damned if he wanted to be attracted to the little nuisance.

After planning out some possible scenes for her, he’d added a few extras to the bag. Odd how apropos one happened to be.

When he returned, she was still struggling and cursing Nolan. “You dumb-ass ape, get your hand off me. What-are you the first in your family to be born without a tail?”

The dom stared at her as if he couldn’t believe the show, and Marcus almost grinned. When he’d discussed Gabrielle in the Master’s meeting before the club opened, Nolan hadn’t believed she could prove much trouble. Well, now he knew.

After setting his toy bag on the bar, Marcus gripped her hair. “Be silent.”

For about thirty seconds, her natural submissiveness shut her up as if he’d corked her mouth. Then she started again. “Listen, I don’t like manhandling, and this-”

Marcus took her wrists, pulled them behind her back, and clipped the cuffs together. When she opened her mouth for another yell, he shoved a leather gag between her teeth. He tied it firmly, smiling at the muffled shriek.

Then her inability to talk or move registered. Her body stiffened, and her eyes dilated with fear.

Before she panicked, he put his hand under her chin to force her to meet his gaze. “Gabrielle.” He held a pink squeaky toy and shook it so the bells inside rattled. A squeeze made it squeak. “Anytime I gag you, you will hold this. The toy is the substitute for your safe word, sugar. If you drop it or make it squeak, everything stops.”

Her brown eyes were huge, and she trembled like a terrified mouse. Why did she do this to herself? He slid his hand up to cup her face, and the unconscious way she rubbed her cheek on his palm told him she trusted him-would willingly submit. Only she didn’t.

With a sigh, he stayed on the path he’d set out. He put the toy in her hand. “Do you understand, sugar? Use it if something is too much for you. Make it squeak now so I know you can.”

As she made the toy sound several times, her breathing slowed.

“All right then.” He stripped off her stretchy, bright yellow hot pants with regret-she’d looked damn fine in them-lingering for a second over the soft, bare skin of her ass. Seductive, mouthy little sub. Then he gripped her waist and laid her, stomach down, on the bar, with her legs dangling off the edge.

Her teeth clamped on the gag, and she pulled uselessly at her cuffs, then tried to squirm off the bar. Seductive, mouthy, stubborn little sub. Marcus glanced at Nolan. “If you would please?”

Nolan nodded and leaned on her legs, pinning her against the bar and preventing her from kicking in the process. After gripping her cuffs, the dom had her well immobilized, although she continued to struggle like a fish tossed on dry land.

Marcus glanced at Cullen, who drew a beer as he observed the show. “Loan me a knife, please.” Before Gabrielle could react with more than widened eyes, he patted her bottom. “I’m not going to cut on you, darlin’.”

She stared at him for a second, then gave up and lay limp under Nolan’s grip. Apparently the mention of a knife had scared the sass right out of her.

Cullen set the drink on the bar and tossed a knife at Marcus.

Marcus caught it out of the air. He took a piece of knobby, palm-sized ginger from his toy bag and cut off one of the fingerlike parts. “This is ginger, Gabrielle, like what is used in Asian cooking.” He shaved off the brown coating and carved the long piece into the shape of an anal plug with a thick thumb-sized part, a narrower section, and a wide end to keep the plug in place.

When he held it up, Gabrielle inhaled sharply, obviously recognizing the shape.

Marcus smiled into her eyes. “The fun we’ll have tonight is called figging.”

When Nolan chuckled, she stiffened as if she’d forgotten his presence.

“I can’t use regular lubricant or it’ll block the effect. Can you lube her with her own juices?” Marcus asked, glancing at his hands. “If I get the oils near her pussy, she’s going to screech like a steam engine.”

Nolan snorted. “No shit. Guess I can help out this once, hot stuff.” The dom pushed her legs apart and slid his fingers over her pussy. He chuckled. “She’s nicely wet, Marcus.” Ignoring her muffled yells, Nolan lubed up her asshole.

Cheeks pink with outrage, Gabrielle glared as Marcus picked up the ginger. He nodded at Nolan. “Best you try to relax yourself, Gabrielle.”

As Nolan held her buttocks apart, Marcus slowly pushed the knob into her ass. Her tight ring of muscle fought against the intrusion-just as it would offer up a token protest against a cock before closing like a vise around the base. He hardened at the thought.

The ginger slipped into place, and she moaned.

“There you go, sugar. Now you’ll learn what hot stuff really means. I do want you to know ginger doesn’t cause any harm at all…no matter what it feels like.”

Leaning an arm on the bar, he kissed Gabrielle’s cheek and her forehead. “Such a pretty face to glare so much. Wouldn’t you rather be polite and not have to be unhappy all the time?”

His blue gaze was soft, his resonant voice almost a croon, and Gabi had to close her eyes to keep him from seeing just how devastating his question was. I would. I hate when you’re mad at me.

“Ah, darlin’,” he said gently, “we’ll get there. It’ll happen.”

She kept her eyes closed until she heard him move away. He’d gone behind the bar to wash his hands, leaving the heartless dom still leaning against her legs. She could hear the laughter and conversations about her, and her cheeks flushed. She’d done well in attracting attention, hadn’t she?

When Marcus came back, Nolan stepped away and asked in his gravelly voice, “If you don’t need any more help, I’m going to round up my sub.”

“I appreciate your assistance,” Marcus said.

“My pleasure.” Nolan gave Gabi’s bottom a light, stinging slap, and she gritted her teeth on the gag to keep from yelping. “Would you like her caned tonight? I’m getting out of practice.”

Gabi tensed. Say no, say no.

“Hmm.” Marcus grazed his fingers over the stinging area. “If she doesn’t learn some manners soon, I believe she might benefit from your expertise.”

As Nolan headed away, Marcus gripped Gabi around the waist. With an easy swing, he set her on her feet. As the thing in her butt shifted, she shivered and wiggled, trying to get more comfortable.

“I hoped you’d leave her up there,” the bartender said, leaning on one hefty arm and looking at her appreciatively. “I haven’t had a pretty bar ornament in a while.”

“Not this time.” Marcus ran his warm hands up and down her arms. His eyes held laughter as he smiled at her. “I don’t think she’s going to be holding still without some help.”

Cullen frowned. “What did you want the knife for anyway?”

“Ginger root. She called me ‘hot stuff.’”

The giant dom stared at Marcus for a second, then roared with laughter.

What’s so funny?

Marcus removed her cuffs and her yellow vinyl top, and finally her gag.

Thank you, God. She rubbed her cheeks and swallowed, trying to eradicate the taste of the gag. A gag, anal plug, bar top. Oh man. She’d expected a spanking, maybe even a whipping. Not this kind of thing. As Marcus put the restraints into his bag, she realized everyone still watched her, probably hoping for another show. Damn them anyway.

She scowled at Marcus and Cullen. It didn’t take any effort to want to annoy them. A bar ornament, my ass. “So am I supposed to wait tables with this thing up my butt?”

Elbow on the bar, Cullen propped his chin in his hand and watched her as if she were an amusing bug.

“No, Gabrielle,” Marcus said in a level voice. “You are going to sit with me and practice self-control. Don’t make me regret removing your gag.”

“You bet, hot stuff.” She pursed her lips in a kiss, hearing the people around the bar laugh.

His expression didn’t change. As he studied her with those blue, blue eyes, she felt herself flush and something quiver inside her, a mingling of shame and desire. Unable to meet his eyes anymore, she dropped her gaze.

“C’mere, sugar,” he said softly. He sat down, back to the bar, and lifted her onto his lap.

When her weight landed on the thing in her butt, she winced, and her temper shifted as well-with good reason. After all, some asshole had shoved something in her asshole.

His calloused fingers curled around hers, and he positioned her hands palm down on her bare thighs. “I want your hands to stay just like that.”

“Fine,” she muttered, then growled as he forced her knees apart and draped her legs on the outside of his, spreading her open. No. I am not going to sit here with my pussy wide open for everyone walking past to stare at. This is too much. Without saying a word, she tried to slide off his lap.

He chuckled. “I don’t think so.” He cupped one hand over her left breast, and his other over her mound, holding her in place.

She stilled, her heart rate increasing at the thrill of his strong hands on her most vulnerable areas. His palm, hard and calloused, pressed against her bare labia. She quivered in his grasp as he fondled her breasts, rolling her nipples until need clawed through her.

“Nicely quiet. I like that, Gabrielle,” he murmured into her ear, his breath warm against her cheek. “Say, ‘Thank you, Sir, for providing me with a seat.’”

Her hesitation earned her a quick pinch on her nipple, and the tiny pain streamed like a lightning bolt to her pussy. How could she possibly find this exciting? But his fingers rested on each side of her clit, and if he started touching her there, she’d have a climax on a damned bar stool. She breathed through her nose until the heat passed. “Thank you, Sir, for providing me with a seat.”

“Very nice.” Despite the fact he’d forced her to comply, his voice was warm with approval, the approval that she’d discovered she really, really wanted.

She tried to think of something atrocious to do next, and suddenly the hand between her legs started to move. He touched her wet, wet labia, making another approving sound. “Do you realize how your body betrays you, Gabrielle?” he said in her ear as his finger circled her entrance. “You make all these defiant noises, but your body says, ‘Take me. Please.’”

He rubbed her clit, and then moved his legs farther apart, spreading her even more. “I do like having you open so I can play with you as I please,” he murmured, his sexy drawl thicker than normal.

Over by a sitting area, two trainees frowned at her. In the locker room, they’d complained about how much time Marcus had to spend with her because of her behavior.

Other members wandered past, staring and laughing at the naked sub getting tormented on her dom’s lap, and she flushed. Don’t pay attention to what Marcus is doing. Watch for the kidnapper.

But he kept teasing her with erratic touches, and her focus started to erode. He knew just how to touch her, dammit. Arousal and embarrassment coursed through her, and her fingernails dug into her thighs as she tried to stay still. As her clit swelled, she became aware of the thing in her butt. It had…warmed. That didn’t make sense. She’d seen him cut it up; it didn’t have any batteries or wires; it was just a root of ginger. Sure ginger was a spice, but a fairly mild one. Wasn’t it?

It heated more, and she squirmed, realizing he’d placed her so her buttocks rested solidly on his lap with no way to get the thing out. Her anus started to burn-like the plug was flaming inside her. It needed to come out. Now. She struggled to get off his lap.

He tightened his grip on her breast, his palm flattened on her pussy, holding her in place. “Stay put, Gabrielle. You do not have permission to move,” he said, but the ice in his voice was no match for the fire in her bottom.

“It burns.” She pushed at his arms, but he had a hell of a grip for a lawyer. She didn’t care if she got in trouble. It felt as if someone had stuck a burning stick up her bottom. “There’s something wrong. That thing-”

“Does it feel like hot stuff?” From the amusement in his voice, he’d known exactly what would happen. Her gasp of outrage made him laugh, and she wanted to scream at him. It was burning her.

“Please, please, take it out.” Her body broke out in a sweat as the fire increased.

“No.” Ignoring her struggles, he played with her, rolling her left nipple, then the right between his calloused fingers, slowly, each time increasing the pressure to the edge of pain. Her breasts felt full. Heavy. Her nipples throbbed. And then he moved the hand over her pussy, sliding a lean finger into her wetness and up and around her clit. In and around. Her clit swelled as if imitating her breasts, each tortuous circle waking her to a frightening need.

“Don’t. I don’t want this.” She grabbed his wrist and tried to push his hand away from her pussy.

“Put your hand back on your thigh, Gabrielle.” The steel in his voice cut through her resistance. A tremor shook her deep inside as she obeyed.

“That’s the way,” he murmured. “You will stay in place whatever I do, whatever I take from you.”

Her spine seemed to melt into his chest as if his removal of her choices had taken her with it.

“Such a pretty little sub,” he whispered. He kissed her hot cheek. “Just stay quiet as I play.”

She somehow held still as he teased her clit, ever so slowly, arousing her pussy to a different fire, one that vied with the burning pain in her bottom. When he pinched her nipples, pain and pleasure seemed to zing like electricity between her bottom and her pussy and her breasts, drawing her closer and closer to coming. She moaned, drowning in sensation.

He ruthlessly brought her right to the brink, until she couldn’t remain quiet, until she squirmed uncontrollably against his hold, needing to come so badly that she whimpered. She burned…everywhere. Each merciless stroke shoved her closer until the world receded to only the feeling of his hands and the fire of the ginger. Every time she got close to the edge, he lightened his touch, keeping her on a throbbing, burning precipice.

Marcus nuzzled the cheek of the little sub squirming in his lap. She hovered right at the peak of both pain and pleasure, and one firm touch would send her screaming over the edge. Her breathy whimpers were a joy to listen to, as was her inability to put two words together into one of her insults. Master Z walked by, studied her for a second, and nodded at Marcus.

That had been a very unreadable expression from the club owner, Marcus thought. Almost concerned…pitying. Putting the thought aside, he returned his attention to his sub. Her responses delighted him. He might have to force her to let down her defenses, but once gone, she openly gave him everything. He nibbled on the lovely curve between her neck and shoulder to add to her sensations, and another low groan broke from her.

“Beg me, Gabrielle,” he said, making it an order. “Beg me to let you come.”

Ah now, he’d obviously pushed too far, for she tried to growl her defiance.

“You’ll give it all, sugar,” he whispered and slid his finger up her engorged clit, too lightly to get her off but hard enough to increase the quivering of her thighs. The scent of her arousal blended with the light fragrance of her skin and hair. “Beg me.”

Her lips tightened, and he laughed. Stubborn little sub. So honest in her defiance. How long since he’d had such a challenge? He set his hands on the outside of her bottom and pushed her ass cheeks together. Pressure on the ginger root would increase the burn.

She stiffened and gave a husky moan. “Please. Oh, God, please, Marcus.”

Almost. “Who?”

“Sir. Pleeeease.”

“All right. You were polite, Gabrielle, so I will reward you,” he murmured. He swirled a finger in her juices, then started high over her clit, up past the hood, and worked his way down in tiny slick rubs. Her entire body stiffened as he came closer to the goal. Finally he reached the sweet, swollen nub and slid over it once.

Her back arched; her head thumped into his shoulder as she screamed, a satisfying, high sound that made him even harder than before. He gritted his teeth. If he had her soft, little ass squirming on top of his cock much longer, he’d bend her over the bar stool and take her.

He tightened the arm he’d put around her waist to keep her in place and circled her clit a few more times to draw out the afterwaves. A few seconds of that and she sagged against him like a balloon that had lost its air. Little shivers shook her body at intervals.

To please himself, he moved his hand up to cup a soft, swollen breast. He kissed her moist cheek. “Say thank you, Gabrielle.”

Her eyes were half-lidded. Her lips curved slightly. Absolutely beautiful. “Thank you.”

He turned her and took her mouth. She yielded completely, wonderfully.

Eventually he drew back, despite his roaring need to take more. Her wet lips were swollen and red from his kiss. She’d closed her eyes, and her thick red-gold lashes clashed endearingly with her pink cheeks.

Lesson. This is a lesson, Atherton. Recalling his mind to the task, he brushed his cheek over hers. “I do enjoy giving pleasure to polite submissives, sugar.” He left the second part unstated-that rudeness would receive pain.

Her eyes lifted and met his. The vulnerable look pulled at his heart. Then he watched as, like a prison guard, she locked her emotions away.

The bitch was running late. Cesar Maganti glanced at his watch: 1:30 a.m. In the shadows beside his target’s apartment building, he leaned against the wall. Sweat trickled slowly down his back. His overalls, showing him as an appliance company employee, felt like an overcoat in the humid night.

Not long ago, Jang had reported that Candi’d left the downtown BDSM club, so she should arrive any time now. With luck, he’d have her boxed, called in, and ready for pickup the minute the docks opened in the morning. She’d be the second woman of the four ordered.

He watched as a car entered the parking lot. A red Jeep-nope. A drunken couple got out and staggered into a ground-floor apartment. He doubted they’d seen anything but each other. Weekend nights were definitely the safest time to snatch someone. Two years ago, when the Overseer had e-mailed him a how-to-kidnap guide, he’d laughed his ass off. But the bastard’s suggestions had been dead-on.

The Overseer. Fancy name for a fucking pimp. But the patronizing asshole paid good money for each batch of girls. Last time the profit on the order had kept his PI agency afloat. This year it’d pay off his gambling debts and keep him from ending up in the Gulf as an example.

This girlie and then two more and home free.

And there she was. C’mere, chickie. She parked and locked her battered, white compact sedan, then walked toward the stairs on the end of the building. Healthy women-the types he kidnapped-rarely used the elevators. He checked the area. A car headed out on the far side of the lot, its lights dancing over the shrubbery. All clear.

Maganti smiled as the brunette approached. Nice rack. When she reached the stairs, he stepped out of the shadows. “Hey, Candi,” he said, grinning. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

He’d used her name deliberately. Instead of screaming and running, she hesitated. With an alcohol-sogged brain, she took a moment to realize she didn’t know him. Her eyes widened and-

He nailed her with the Taser.

She dropped in a nice heap. After yanking the prongs from her stomach, he gave her a tranq injection to keep her out for a couple of hours at least. Long enough to get to the docks, pass her off to the guys doing the pickup, and get his money.

Maganti fetched the heavy washing machine box from behind the building, hefted her in, and sealed the top. Using a hand trolley, he rolled the box to his cargo van and up the ramp. After closing the door, he dumped her out and cuffed her wrists and ankles. No point in growing careless. As he drove out of the parking lot, he knew what anyone watching would see-an appliance truck leaving after making a delivery. Another idea off the Overseer’s list. No one questioned repair guys. Had an emergency call, ma’am. The machine flooded the laundry room.

Once out on the road, he tossed his clear-lensed glasses onto the passenger seat and removed the baseball cap.

Two little birdies left to go. Whistling a tune, he thought about the woman cuffed in the back of the van. Long hair. Nice ass. Big tits. He hardened. If he hurried, he and Jang could have some fun with her before the boat arrived.