Make Me, Sir

Chapter Fourteen

The Shadowlands had closed. Holding his little trainee’s wrist, Marcus led her down the private hallway, then outside. After the dry air-conditioned atmosphere of the club, the sultry air wrapped around him like a sweaty fist.

Gabi stopped. Her eyes were big and frightened, making him want to pull her into a hug and reassure her. “I need to go home now,” she said.

“You live alone and don’t have a job at present. Is there a reason you can’t stay a couple of hours longer?”

Her mouth opened, then closed. She’d decided not to lie to him. This time.

“That’s what I thought.” He took her around the corner to Z’s private yard at the rear of the Shadowlands. The other three doms had already congregated on the veranda. Z wasn’t in sight.

Gabi stopped again, obviously seeing everyone present was a Shadowlands Master. “But-”

“Kneel right here, sugar.”

She did so silently, which told him how terrified she must be. She stared at the men.

Many doms, one sub. Of course she was worried. He caressed her cheek. “Gabrielle, I am planning to do a scene with you, but it will be only me and you.”

Her shoulders relaxed.

Better. “Stay here for now, darlin’.” He strolled over to the other Masters, who stood across the veranda by the small refrigerator.

“’Bout time you decided to join us for a poker night, buddy.” Cullen grinned. “Can I hope your reluctance means you don’t know how to play?”

“Poker? I thought Raoul said bridge.”

Laughing, Cullen handed him a beer.

Still in his black leathers and T-shirt, Nolan gestured toward Gabi with his drink. “Did you bring her to play poker, or is there a problem?”

“Problem.” Marcus looked at him, then Cullen and Raoul. “I’m not getting what is going on in her head. She’s submissive and at times beautifully so. And out of the blue, she’ll turn defiant, even past the point of self-preservation.”

“I’ve seen that.” Cullen scratched his jaw. “Damned if I’ve figured out her motivation either.”

“What can we do, my friend?” Raoul asked.

“I’d like to do a scene with her, get her into subspace, and find some answers. But I usually have an idea of where I’m going. This time-”

Cullen nodded. “You want backup if needed, and other eyes in case we can spot a clue.”

“Exactly. I realize it will delay the game.”

“Comes with the territory,” Nolan said. “Besides, Z called a bit ago. Said he had to take Jessica home and he’d be late. You want to wait?”

Marcus hesitated and then shook his head. “He’s deliberately keeping something back about her. I’ll do this without him.”

“You need help setting up?” Raoul asked.

“No setup. I’ll use the posts out here.” Marcus turned to check on Gabi. She knelt, watching him, her nervousness apparent in her wide brown eyes and clenched hands. So quiet. Why so submissive now? “Come here, please.”

She rose quite gracefully, he noticed. She’d obviously practiced a bit.

Nolan grunted in approval, and Cullen murmured, “She’s a pretty sub, Marcus.”

When she stood in front of him, she asked, “Yes, Sir?”

“You’re beautiful like this,” he said, seeing the need to please shining in her eyes.

She flushed.

He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m going to flog you, sugar.”

Gabi inhaled sharply and took a step back. Was he insane? “You kept me here to-”

“I’m not a sadist, Gabi, and we both know you enjoy a bit of pain. This is just a different type.” Without giving her time to think it over, he guided her between two patio posts that had bolts embedded up high.

“Here you go,” the rough dom-Nolan-called and tossed Marcus two short chains.

Marcus used them to restrain her between the posts so that she faced the veranda with her arms lifted like in a victory cheer V.

Her breath caught as she pulled on the chains. Could she let him do this? “I-Why now? Not before in the club?”

“You do better with less people around, darlin’.”

Oh, damn, he’d noticed. Even as she tried to figure out what to do, excitement speared through her, rapidly turning to heat when he removed her halter top with sure fingers. He unzipped her short vinyl skirt and pulled that off as well, leaving her naked.

Oh God. Her heart started to race, and she could feel her nipples peaking, her skin tingling with anticipation.

His gaze ran over her, face to hands to breasts, and he gave her a slow smile. “All excited before we even start.”

She flushed, and her eyes strayed toward the other doms. What must they think? Why was she the only submissive here?

He noticed the direction of her gaze. “Sugar, I’m going to blindfold you.”

Be blind? Gabi shook her head, her fear rising like the mercury in a thermometer on a hot day. “Sir, no.”

He cupped her chin, meeting her eyes with his steady ones. “Gabrielle, you’ll concentrate better on the sensations and not on who’s present. I will not do anything that you don’t know about, and I will not leave you alone, not even for a second.”

She saw the question in his face: Do you trust me? And she couldn’t hold out. All evening she’d hated how she had to keep disappointing him time after time. Master Nolan, Raoul, and Cullen had been members of the club for years; surely none of them were the kidnapper. With relief, she realized she didn’t need to act like a brat. She could do what Marcus wanted this time.

Excitement started in the hollow of her back and tingled up her spine. Flogging. “Okay.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, making her heart leap with longing. He tied the padded blindfold on snugly.

As the blackness enfolded her, she tensed, and yet her skin tingled as if someone was running a Fourth of July sparkler over it.

“You have a safe word to use if you need to.” He didn’t move but stayed close enough that the heat of his body warmed hers as he stroked her hair gently.

As her breathing eased, she heard the other men talking quietly. Cullen’s louder laugh. The fragrance of the sea and tropical flowers and Marcus’s own masculine scent. She raked her toes against the concrete to remind herself of where she was.

He abandoned her hair and ran his fingertips down her body. She jumped.

“Easy, sugar.” His hand grazed across her skin as he moved to stand behind her. He braced his chest against her back and curved his fingers lightly around her throat, the most subtle of reminders of how vulnerable she was. He murmured in her ear, “There’s nothing you can do wrong, because all the control belongs to me. You don’t have any say in what happens.”

The concrete seemed to soften under her feet.

His breath brushed her ear. “You can scream or sass or cry. It doesn’t matter. I will still do what I want to do.” He turned her head far enough to take her mouth, roughly, possessively, reinforcing that she could do nothing to stop him.

Even as she shifted her weight anxiously, heat pooled low in her belly. This was what she wanted…had always needed.

He ran his hard hands over her, his touch almost painful; then cuffs closed snugly around her ankles. Unbreakable. Chains clanked as he secured her legs widely apart.

Air wafted over the bare, wet skin of her pussy and inner thighs, cool against the heat.

“Now you’re open to me, and I will do whatever I want. All you can do is take it, li’l subbie.”

The words sounded like a threat, and yet given in his soft drawl, they made her shiver with anticipation. Touch me, please.

He must have knelt behind her, for his hands grazed up the backs of her thighs and moved between her legs. He stroked through her folds. She could feel she was awfully wet despite her fear-or maybe because of it. Flogging. He would hit her-

“Stay with me here, sugar,” he murmured. His finger slid directly over the top of her rapidly hardening clit, and her mind went blank as the sensation sizzled across her nerves. She groaned and pushed her hips forward.

“That’s right.” His finger circled, melting her insides. Even as he played with her clit, he kissed the right cheek of her bottom and then bit the soft flesh hard enough to send a shock of pain up her spine and shoot her arousal higher.

She’d never felt like this. He was playing with her as her cats toyed with their prey. Her hips squirmed; she couldn’t tell how to move to increase his touch on her clit. As the chains clanked, she remembered the other doms and froze. A flush scalded her face.

Marcus laughed, low and deep. “Yes, they’re watching, Gabi. They see how you’ve surrendered to me, and how you’re going to give me everything I ask tonight.” The pleasure in his voice surged over her like an ocean wave.

Abandoning her throbbing pussy, he rose and set his solid chest against her back. When he cupped her breasts, heat moved through her, up and down, electricity lost in the maze of her body. He teased her nipples, rolling them gently between his fingers, increasing the pressure slowly into pain.

Caught in his trap, she’d pull away from the hurt and then push forward, needing the pleasure. He sucked on her earlobe, his breath riffling her hair. Encircled by him, unable to escape, she whimpered.

“You’re such a good girl,” he murmured and stepped back.

A second later, velvety fingers ran up and down her back-not his hands. A flogger, he was teasing her with a flogger.

He hit her lightly. And again. Soon the tiny, thuddy sensations went up her thighs, her butt, her back, the rhythm never faltering, the impact slowly increasing. Her bottom, her thighs began to sting, and gradually the blows hurt as a burning pain lingered behind each slapping blow.

Before it reached too much, Marcus slowed and eased off.

Realizing she was using the chains for support, feeling a little dizzy, she straightened, thinking he was done.

Instead she felt his breath on her mound.

She inhaled sharply as her pussy suddenly woke. When he slid his hands between her legs, her knees shook. His fingers curled upward over her lower buttocks, and his thumbs drew her labia slightly apart, completely exposing her clit.

She shuddered at the sensation of being touched as if he had the right.

He ruthlessly opened her farther. “Very pretty, darlin’, all swollen and pink.” His tongue, hot and wet, slid directly over it, and lightning ran straight up her spine with an almost audible hiss.

His merciless fingers held her still as he closed his lips around her clit. He ran his tongue over the swollen nub of nerves, rubbing one side, then the other, as his top lip pressed down on the hood.

Her body went stiff; her legs quivered. Unrelenting, he continued as her insides coiled, tightened, her breathing stopped. Hot stroke after hot stroke. The pressure grew until nothing could hold it back. Her body exploded, a tsunami of pleasure engulfing her. Her hips tried to buck against him, and he held her still, controlling her even through her orgasm.

Before she finished shuddering, he started flogging her again. Gentle caresses and tiny thumps from the multiple strands of the flogger. The rhythm never faltered as the strokes grew harder and harder, stinging against her skin, yet somehow the burn increased the throbbing between her legs.

The blows began to hurt.

He eased up, slowed, stopped. And then he knelt in front of her and ran his hands up her legs.

Again? Oh God.

She shook as he stroked her with hard hands, pulling her pussy against his mouth. He didn’t tease her-no, his lips demanded that she respond.

As his tongue slid over her, her clit hardened, swelled, and her insides coiled under his touch. She moaned, losing track of everything, as the stinging on her skin blended with the fire drawn in circles by his hot tongue. The pressure inside her tightened, and then he closed his lips around her and sucked, flickering his tongue over her clit at the same time.

“Oooh God.” The wail escaped her as everything inside burst outward in waves of pleasure.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Let it go.”

He flogged her again, harder yet. And made her come again. The pain on her skin grew, yet so did the pleasure until each blow of the flogger excited her more and tightened her clit, until his breath on her mound pulled the stinging into her clit, transforming it into excitement. Until the pain itself squeezed through her as tightly as his lips around her.

When the blows started again, she couldn’t tell. Somehow the ground had disappeared from under her feet. She couldn’t hear the whip anymore, just the rush of her breath and thud of her heart. Her arms and legs were gone; nothing was there except the clouds around her. White puffs that billowed and bumped against her back in soft little jostlings.

“Gabi.” So insistent a sound. “Gabi.” The demanding, deep voice pulled at something inside her as if it could tug her heart out.

“Uh-huh.” Her tongue didn’t move right, and she tried again. The clouds around her lightened until the sky showed through them. So blue. Clear blue. Intense…eyes.

“Tell me why you’re so disobedient.”

It took a minute to get through. Diso…what? Disobedient.

“Why, Gabi.”

Her lips felt numb. His eyes were so blue. “I have to. Noisy sub. They said.”

“Said what, sugar?”

“Get attention. Noticed.”

Marcus frowned at his little sub. Eyes glazed, breathing slowly. The pain and pleasure had overwhelmed her until she rode a wave of endorphins and submission. She was deep into subspace, and the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

And he’d hit topspace, his senses overly acute, her every breath and movement pulling him further in, binding them into one. But “they said”? Was she hearing voices? “Who said, Gabi? Who told you to get noticed?”

Her brows drew together, and she blinked. “Kouros. Agent Kouros.”

What the hell? At his house, she’d dodged his question about a job… “Where do you work, Gabi?”

“FBI.”

It took a second, and then the word hit him like a bullet in the chest and he grunted at the impact. Chairs creaked behind him as the other doms rose, probably as stunned as he was. She’s been playing me? “You’re an FBI agent?”

Her brows drew together. “Yes. No.”

“You’re undercover.”

“Yes.” Her head sagged.

He needed to get her down. Glancing at the doms, he jerked his head for help. Raoul and Cullen unbuckled her wrists and Nolan her ankles. Marcus supported her weight and then scooped her into his arms. She’d lied to him. But no matter what happened, a dom didn’t abandon a sub after a scene.

He settled onto a wide porch swing with Gabi on his lap. When Nolan offered a sheet, he nodded. The evening felt too warm for blankets, but she’d need the comfort of something over her nakedness. Nolan tucked it around her body, and she shivered.

“Easy, sugar,” Marcus said. “You’re just fine. I’ve got you, darlin’.”

As the endorphins wore off, her euphoria would disappear and the pain from the flogging would start to register. He hadn’t flogged her hard, but she’d taken a while to get deep enough into subspace.

She stirred again, probably feeling her skin stinging. Blinking up at him, she offered a lopsided smile. “Hey.”

Despite his anger, his heart tugged. She looked so sweet, nestled against him like a milk-fed puppy, her eyes open and honest.

No hidden reserve. He hadn’t realized its existence until it had disappeared. Secrets. Dammit. He hauled in slow breath.

“Hey,” he answered gently. His anger and his need to demand explanations would have to wait until they returned to even footing. She was too vulnerable right now.

“Rest, sugar. I have you,” he repeated. Her unique scent of rose and sandalwood and feminine musk slid into him.

Her fingers stroked his chest lightly as she snuggled. Her trust sent fury surging through him, because he’d trusted her in turn and she’d lied. As he rocked, he considered how Z had insisted Marcus take on a trainee they hadn’t discussed and insisted he keep her for a month. An unyielding fist squeezed his guts, and he lifted his head.

The others had pulled up chairs around him. Cullen, ever the bartender, handed Marcus an opened can of soda.

He took a long drink, but the cold bite of carbonation didn’t remove the bitterness of betrayal. “Z knew. That sorry bastard knew.”

Nolan’s black eyes studied the little sub as he drank his beer. “Seems likely.” Anger ran through the calm words.

At a sound from the house, Marcus glanced up at the third story. Z stepped out onto the landing and came down the steps to the veranda.

“Gentlemen,” Z said as he neared the group. “I’m sorry to be so late.” As every Master on the patio turned their attention to him, Z took a step back, one hand massaging his forehead as if someone had punched him-something Marcus really wanted to do. “What’s wrong?”

“We’ve discovered a few interesting facts about the new trainee,” Cullen said in a level voice. He nodded toward Gabi.

Z’s face went still. “What happened?”

“She’s okay. Just in subspace,” Cullen said quickly.

“I see.” Mouth thinned, Z asked Marcus, “You questioned her?”

A twang of guilt hit, and Marcus pushed it aside, recalling the nights he’d lain awake, trying to figure out the trainee Z had insisted he take. His voice came out hard. “She’s not a disobedient submissive-she’s an FBI agent. What else have you lied about, Z?”

Just then, Gabi squirmed on his lap. Using his arm as an aid, she pulled herself to a sitting position and rubbed her face. She smiled at Marcus. “I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“Probably not.” He tried but couldn’t damp the anger soon enough.

Her smile wavered and died. She looked at the others. At Z. Back at Marcus. Her face paled to the color of Marcus’s white shirt, and she wrung her hands. “It’s all funny in my head, but I remember…I told-”

“Yes,” he interrupted. “You did.” Fury at her deception made his words clipped. Cold.

Her brow furrowed. “You questioned me-like a criminal. You wanted me to trust you just so you could do that to me.” She shoved to her feet, staggering back on shaky legs.

Marcus rose hastily to put an arm around her.

“Don’t touch me, you bastard.” She shoved at his arm. “Get away from me. I’m out of here. Never-”

“You’re not driving in this condition, Gabrielle,” Marcus said even as Z did. He glared at Z. “Stay out of this.”

Without answering, Z moved closer to cup Gabi’s cheek. “Are you all right, little one?”

Marcus’s anger flared higher as he fought the need to pull his sub out of Z’s reach.

She made such an effort to smile at Z that Marcus’s heart twisted. “I’m fine.”

And they could both feel her tremble. Dammit, he needed to stay with her; she couldn’t be left alone. He tightened his grip. “I’m taking her home, Z, and then we’ll talk.”

“No,” Gabi snapped and jerked away from him.

“Gabrielle,” Marcus warned.

“You have no-nothing to do with me.” The look of betrayal on her face matched his own, and he felt as if he’d kicked a defenseless child. “I don’t want you near me. You bastard.” Her voice broke, and she turned away.

Marcus considered. He could overrule her and take her home, but his presence right now would be more damaging than someone else’s. Especially since he still didn’t understand what was going on. “Raoul?”

“Yes,” Raoul said, understanding immediately. “I’ll drive her car-and her-to her place.” He pulled Gabi into his arms, ignoring her protests. “This isn’t up for discussion, chiquita. You don’t have a choice.”

When she sagged, too tired to put up a fight, Raoul said, “Nolan, can you follow and bring me back after? It might take a while, since I want to make sure she doesn’t drop. Further.”

“Can do. No problem.” Nolan shot Z an icy stare. “But you and I will talk.”

“Understood.” As the two doms escorted Gabi through the side gate, Z pulled out his cell and told someone Gabi was being driven home. He shut the phone on the sound of a man cursing and kneaded his brow. “What a night.”

“No shit.” Cullen handed Z a drink, getting a surprised look. “Yes, I’m pissed off, but you rarely do anything without a reason, so I’ll wait until I hear it.”

Marcus wasn’t feeling that charitable. Guilty as hell was his judgment.

Cullen took a chair, stretching his long legs out, deliberately lowering the sense of an impending fight. Z and Marcus remained standing.

Marcus braced his feet. The other Masters had known Z for years. Marcus hadn’t, and the bastard had damned well destroyed any chance of that. Marcus planned to have his say, tear up his membership card, and never look back. Right now his only question was whether to use a fist to punctuate his statement.

Z’s gaze met his. “Marcus.” He sighed. “Let’s talk. I have decisions to make, and since the secret is out, you all can help.” The bastard pulled two chairs over and shoved one to Marcus before sitting across from him and Cullen. Deliberately taking the hot-seat position.

Despite his anger, Marcus had to admire the man’s self-possession. Dropping into the chair, Marcus set his elbows on the arms. Waiting silently.

“The FBI came to me two weeks ago,” Z started. “The previous month, a submissive had been kidnapped and then escaped. Before she died of a gunshot wound, she said someone was kidnapping rebellious subs for a slave auction-for men who want the pleasure of breaking them. More slaves are scheduled to be taken from Tampa, and the final pickup of victims is next Sunday.”

“Son of a bitch,” Cullen muttered.

“Three subs from different BDSM clubs are missing in Atlanta. The FBI has no leads, so they placed decoy submissives in Tampa/St. Pete clubs. Gabrielle was assigned to the Shadowlands. I had to give my word not to tell anyone, even you, Marcus, although I did protest the secrecy. Both sides had valid arguments, and unfortunately the FBI is in control of the decision.”

Z looked at Marcus, no expression on his face. “I gave her to you because I could ask you to keep her when any other dom would have dumped her after the first night. Or abused her. I knew you wouldn’t let your anger rule you.” Z leaned back and took a drink of the beer Cullen had given him, obviously giving them time to absorb everything.

His word. Marcus scrubbed his face, feeling the rough stubble. An honest man didn’t break his word.

Cullen snorted. “Dan would call this a clusterfuck.”

Marcus stared out at the palm trees. The black shapes blotted out the stars. Cullen had it right; this was a clusterfuck with no path that didn’t involve betrayal or damage. Knowing Z’s protectiveness toward submissives, Marcus understood his need to help. With a sigh, Marcus gave up. “It must have got you all riled up to see her punished for doing her job.”

Z’s shoulders sagged, the only sign he’d worried over Marcus’s opinion. “Nothing about this has been easy for anyone.” His eyes met Marcus’s. “Marcus, I am sorry.”

“Appears to me you didn’t have a choice. And Gabrielle knew what she was getting into.”

“I doubt that. Although I insisted she fill out the questionnaire honestly, I daresay she pushed her own comfort zone-she didn’t want to take a chance she’d fail to attract attention. Unfortunately, I believe her experience was limited and lightweight and several years ago.”

“Fuck.” Cullen’s face turned to granite. “I ball gagged her. How could I not have-”

Z nodded. “And that reaction justifies the reasoning for secrecy. How can you punish misbehavior appropriately if you know the sub is acting? The two agents in charge of the investigation are both experienced doms; they knew how we’d react.”

“Brave little sub,” Cullen said. “I know FBI agents are tough cookies, but…”

Z winced. “Not to add to your guilt, Marcus, though I doubt it can exceed mine, but she’s not an agent.”

“Excuse me?” Marcus said, keeping his voice as polite as he could manage.

“I didn’t find out until this week when her backup sniped about her lack of training.” Z rubbed his forehead again. “She’s a victim specialist-a social worker who helps the victims of crime.”

“Why the hell is a social worker here?” Marcus asked. His jaw felt so tight it might shatter.

“One of the women kidnapped in Atlanta is her friend. Gabrielle volunteered-demanded-to help. I daresay BDSM-experienced submissives are in short supply among FBI agents, so they took her up on it.” Z shifted in his chair. “Marcus, she’s one of the bravest people I know. She is completely terrified and doing this anyway.”

Terrified. He’d seen her fear. Every single night. He set his drink down carefully. He’d made her fear worse. He’d spanked her. Mercilessly. He’d hurt an innocent, vulnerable woman and made her cry.