Make Me, Sir

Chapter Three

For a good part of the evening, Gabi served drinks as Marcus had explained each trainee did for part of the night. She still wasn’t sure exactly why. He never gave her clothing back, so she stayed naked and all too conscious of how her breasts and butt jiggled and drew attention from the men…and sometimes the women too. The doms did more than look. As they gave their drink orders, they’d touch her. Never on her breasts or pussy, but running a hand up and down her arm or massaging her butt lightly. One had stroked his fingers up her inner thigh, stopping an inch short of the V between her legs.

It left her in a state of constant excitement. As she walked through the club, the air would brush over her skin and call her attention to the dampness of her pussy.

Every now and then, she’d catch sight of Agent Rhodes as he wandered around, pretending to watch the scenes and trying to appear as if he belonged there. He’d probably never set foot in a BDSM club before, and he was so not a dom.

Had he spotted anyone suspicious? Rhodes and Kouros had told her not to look for the perp, but she’d tried anyway. Unfortunately she couldn’t figure out how she’d differentiate him from any other man. All the doms intimidated her-hell, the whole place did. She’d never seen a club like this. The dark Goth clubs she’d visited in college compared to the Shadowlands like SpongeBob cartoons to a Hitchcock movie.

Ominous atmosphere? The Shadowlands did it with style.

Leather everywhere: the heavy couches and chairs, the floggers and whips and tawse hanging on the walls, the bondage tables and spanking benches. Black iron chandeliers and wall sconces sent flickering light over members who wore everything from nipple clamps to skintight, head-to-toe latex and stiletto boots. Master Marcus had sure told the truth about the range of styles. He wasn’t the only dom in a suit, and a couple of dommes dressed that way too. Not every dom wore black, but she’d noticed the ones who didn’t still had an aura of sheer self-confidence and command.

The roped-off scene areas stayed busy, giving her a fast education in the lifestyle. Floggings she’d witnessed before, but this place had a special, extra-large area for whip play. Talk about scary. She’d never seen nasty-looking electrical things pushed inside vulnerable places and turned on. Or needles stuck into nipples for fun. Fun? Or sex in every way, shape, and form.

As she headed away from the bar with her drink orders, she saw a woman lying on a sawhorse bench. And…dear heavens, two guys, one man thrusting into her pussy, the other getting a blowjob. The sub’s arms were strapped down-she couldn’t prevent them from doing anything they wanted. Gabi totally forgot to serve drinks, gawking like a virgin at a strip joint.

Why did watching this seem so erotic? She tried to imagine herself there, and a flash of terror ran through her and was burned away by the heat. Boy, talk about confusion…

She caught Marcus’s masculine scent of amber and musk a second before he stopped behind her. Looking over her shoulder at his stern jaw, she tensed, expecting he would berate her for taking a break. Instead he wrapped an arm around her waist and touched her-intimately-right out there with all the spectators.

Oh God. She squirmed as his fingers slid through the wetness of her pussy, and realized she’d grown even damper while watching the scene.

“Well, sugar,” he murmured in her ear, “obviously a ménage is one I’ll add to your list to try.”

His touch zinged across her nerves, increasing her arousal like fanning a flame. She squeezed her drink tray as she tried to hold it steady, and she couldn’t figure out if she wanted to push him away-or grab his hand and move it up an inch to reach her clit, and that was just wrong. I’m here to do a job, to act like a bratty sub. Get to work, Gabi. “Try two men? No way, Jose. Ain’t gonna happen,” she said loudly, expecting another swat on her thigh for rudeness.

He smacked her mound. The light stinging slap sent fire and pain ripping through her. She almost dropped the tray as she tried to jerk away. He hauled her back against his chest with frightening ease.

He said in a level voice, “Be respectful, trainee.” He released her and walked away, leaving her much, much hotter than a minute before. Her abused clit burned, her labia stung, and the glasses on the tray she held rattled.

She not only felt hotter, but inadequate too. Marcus sounded like her father-cold and controlled. Her shoulders hunched at the memories. Never good enough for him or Mother. Not good enough for here either. Marcus already thought he’d gotten a loser of a trainee, yet she hadn’t attracted a kidnapper. Had she? She glanced around uneasily, wondering if the perp watched her.

No matter. I can only do my best.

After a slow breath, she forced herself back into action and served drinks, although her pussy was so swollen, she probably appeared bowlegged.

When she finished, she set her empty tray on the bar with a sigh of relief. Maybe she’d make a quick trip to the restroom and give her nerves a chance to calm down.

“Gabrielle.” Master Cullen waved her closer, then finished drawing a beer. He nodded to two drinks on the bar top. “Pet, be a good girl and run these over to the couple sitting by the suspension area.”

He gave her an easygoing grin that had her smiling back. “Yes, Sir.” A few steps from the bar, she realized she should have smarted off to him. Duh, Gabi.

At the suspension area, two doms had trussed a submissive in an elegant array of ropes, and she dangled in midair. Nearby a muscular, black-haired dom in black leathers observed the scene. His sub sat beside him, very pregnant and very cute, looking rather like a fat poodle next to a wolf.

Gabi steeled her nerve. “Here go, dude.” She slapped the two drinks down on the coffee table hard enough to send liquid sloshing over the sides. “Oops. My bad.”

His gaze stopped on her gold-colored wrist cuffs, and his face hardened into solid rock. “Here go, dude?” he repeated softly; then his voice turned cold. “What is your name, trainee?”

Oh crap. “I’m Gabrielle”-don’t say Sir, don’t say Sir-“Sir.” The respectful term slipped out; she just couldn’t hold it in under his ruthless stare. Damn, he and Master Marcus had this intimidating stuff down to a science. Don’t let him psych you out. She tsk-tsked at him. “My grandmother said you shouldn’t frown like that because your face might stay that way.”

“She’s got a death wish,” he said under his breath. Rising-and oh, joy-the guy was as tall as Marcus. He gripped her arm and glanced at his sub. “Wait here, Kari. I’ll return in a second.”

“Yes, Sir,” his sub said and gave Gabrielle an appalled look.

After glancing around, the dom dragged Gabi across the room to a station where a domme caned a potbellied, older man. Gabi winced as the man’s gag-muffled groan followed each whacking noise. The nasty dom didn’t plan to borrow that cane, did he?

He pulled Gabi farther, heading straight toward…Master Marcus. Hell.

Marcus’s smile faded when he saw Gabi. “Is there a problem with the trainee, Master Dan?”

Oh, this is not good.

“Damn right.” The dom stared down at Gabi. She hadn’t realized brown eyes could look so pitiless. “Either incredibly poorly trained or simply insolent. I think insolent, myself.”

“I see.” Master Marcus’s gaze dropped to her. “That would be a downright pity, wouldn’t it?”

Okay, blue eyes could definitely turn colder than brown ones. A tremor shook her body as the dom passed her off, and Master Marcus’s equally merciless grip closed around her upper arm. “I do thank you for bringing her to me, Master Dan. I’ll take care of it.”

One corner of Master Dan’s mouth curled up. “Good enough.” He gave her a dismissive look as if she were a puppy that had peed on his kitchen floor, and walked away.

She shifted her weight and peeked up from under her eyelashes at the suit.

Arms folded over his chest, he studied her with disapproval. “Well, you got yourself in a heap of trouble. Did you not understand my instructions as to the behavior of a trainee?”

Why did she feel as if she’d let him down? Making him happy wasn’t her job. The cheerleading team in her brain started chanting brat, brat, brat, and she said in an irritating whine, “I’ve served drinks all night, and my feet are tired, and I just wanted to have a little fun. He didn’t have to be such a jerk about it.”

“Your feet are tired, and you want to have fun. I see.” His lips curved slightly. “Then we might should get you off your feet.”

His hand closed on the back of her neck again as he headed over to a small sitting area where a younger dom and one with silvery gray hair sat talking. The older one glanced up. “Marcus, how are you doing?”

“Quite well, thank you, sir.” The warm reply was a vast contrast to how he’d sounded a second ago. “Master Sam, I would like to offer y’all a coffee table for your comfort. She complained her feet are tired, so I have a notion that resting on hands and knees would suit her better.”

Coffee table? When Gabi tried to pull away, Master Marcus slid her legs right out from under her so quickly she’d have belly flopped if he hadn’t caught her. “Hands and knees, please, Gabrielle,” he said and set her on the floor.

This was…just wrong. Avoiding the legs beside her, she sidled around far enough her butt was toward the wall at least.

He sighed and picked her up, setting her back down with her ass toward the center of the room, then shoved a foot between her knees, forcing her legs apart. Exposing her more fully. “You stay right there now.”

“Thanks a lot, boss,” she snapped.

Stinging pain slashed across her bottom, and she yelped.

“Silence, sub,” the old guy said, motioning with the switch he held. A switch. Hell, no wonder it’d hurt. His pale blue eyes examined her without any compassion at all. “I dislike noisy coffee tables.”

Marcus ran his hand over the burning spot. When she winced, he chuckled. “Gabrielle, you will serve as a coffee table until I return. I would recommend you hold very still-anyone whose drink you spill can have a blowjob from you.”

A blowjob? She stared up at him in disbelief, a solid knot forming in her stomach. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to be here.

He paused, and his voice took on a deeper, cutting edge. “Am I clear?”

She really, really didn’t have the guts to challenge him-not when he used that tone. Tears blurred her vision. “Y-yes, Sir.”

He bent and stroked his hand over her hair. “Much better. I’m sorry you won’t find this a comfortable time, sugar.” The sympathy in his voice made her want to lean into him. To beg him not to leave her.

But he did. He walked away. She dropped her head, not willing to look at anything or anyone. Naked, on hands and knees, her butt exposed. A second later, the old man set his beer on her back. The cold, damp bottle made her jump, and thank God, he’d kept hold of the drink or she’d have knocked it right off. The younger man put his can of beer on her too. They must keep the refrigerator here at subzero temperatures, she thought as goose bumps rose on her skin.

She stayed in place, not moving a muscle, and realized after a few minutes that having her legs spread helped her balance. Not that she’d ever forgive Mr. Perfect anyway.

The two men talked, arguing over Tampa’s baseball team, over a recent suicide off the Skyway Bridge, over Master Z’s mouthy sub and her latest infraction. They picked their drinks up, set them down, paying as much attention to her as if she really were a coffee table.

Then she realized Master Sam had set his drink right on the edge of her shoulder blade. Feeling the bottle teeter, she stopped breathing. It settled. Tiny little breaths. Don’t move.

“I do think she makes a fine piece of furniture.” Marcus’s voice came from behind her, and she startled, just a tiny bit, caught herself…and the bottle tipped. The glass hit her back, and cold beer drizzled off her ribs and downward to pool at the base of her spine. Horror ran through her, and her fingernails dug into the hardwood floor. No no no. At least the other man had already picked his can up or she’d have spilled them both. She pushed herself up to a kneeling position, and the cold beer trickled down between her butt cheeks, making her anus pucker.

“Hell, I hadn’t finished yet,” came the gruff tones of the older man.

“Truly a shame.” Marcus shook his head at her. “Well, she’ll do better next time, I assume.”

This isn’t fair. You guys set me up, you bastards. Gabrielle saw the older guy unfasten his leather pants, and she closed her eyes. Oh no. They wouldn’t…

“She any good at this?” Sam asked Marcus.

“First night here. I don’t know,” Marcus said. “Do you prefer me to direct her, or will you?”

I don’t need any stinking directions. But she sure wouldn’t smart off to Marcus right now-giving a stranger a blowjob was bad enough. I don’t want to do this.

“Feel free.” Sam sheathed himself with a condom, glanced at her. “I prefer being covered. Get up here, girl.” He leaned back and closed his eyes, his cock rising from his leathers like a flagpole.

She blinked up at Marcus, wanting to break down and beg.

He simply waved his hand toward Sam in a “get on with it” motion.

She crawled over and knelt between Sam’s legs. Biting it off would probably come across as a little too defiant. Satisfying…but stupid. Her heart pounded, and her hands had gone clammy. She combed her hair back. I’ve done oral sex before. I’m actually pretty fair at it. After wetting her lips, she took a firm hold and started to put his cock into her mouth.

“Slower, sugar,” Marcus murmured.

She glanced over her shoulder.

He’d taken the empty armchair next to Sam. Leaning back, he crossed his legs at the ankles, as if he’d settled in for a Sunday football game. “Lick him like an ice cream cone. Tease him a smidgeon before you get down to business.”

Tease him? She’d planned to get him off as quickly as possible. But from the implacable set of Marcus’s jaw, the dom figured to draw this out. Or maybe he considered it part of instructing a trainee. Her heart sank-she had told him she wanted to jump right in. With a silent sigh, she licked up Master Sam’s cock.

He’d used an orange-flavored condom. A giggle escaped her. He opened his pale blue eyes and winked before closing them again.

After that, somehow, it wasn’t difficult to do a good job. Marcus supervised the entire time, murmuring soft instructions. “Circle the tip.” “Suck hard.” “Massage his balls with one hand.” “Grip the base tightly.”

She hadn’t felt excited about doing this, but somehow having Marcus watch set her pulse racing. Her breasts tingled where they rubbed against Sam’s pants, and she flushed. How could she get excited by this…this humiliation?

Her mouth had started to tire when Sam stiffened and came.

“Very nicely done, sugar,” Marcus said. “Don’t stop yet. Ease him down gently.”

When Sam’s cock softened, Marcus pointed to a small stand discretely camouflaged by the ferns in the planter. “Fetch some wipes. Clean him up and dispose of the condom.” She started to rise, and he added, “Your response is what?”

“Yes, Sir,” she snapped before thinking. She came to attention, saluted, and included a glare for good measure.

As she stalked away, she heard Sam’s gravelly voice. “You’re going to have a fun time with this one, Marcus.”

Probably just as well she didn’t hear Marcus’s reply. When she’d finished cleaning Master Sam, he ruffled her hair. “Good job, girl.” After tucking himself back into his faded leathers, he rose and headed for the bar.

Gabrielle hesitated. What now?

Before she could stand, Marcus leaned forward, grasped her around the waist, and pulled her between his knees, her back to him. With firm hands, he adjusted her position until she knelt, bare bottom resting on her heels, knees widely spread, and her palms on her thighs. As his hands covered hers, she saw white scars and thickened skin over his knuckles. A lawyer that got in fights?

Leaning forward, he squeezed her shoulders, and his cheek brushed against her hair as he spoke softly in her ear. “When I say kneel, this is the posture I wish you to take. Concentrate on getting here quickly for now. We’ll work on gracefulness later.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, not wanting to fight. His legs enclosing her felt…good, as did his warm hands on her chilled skin and his cheek against her ear. Safe. And maybe he even liked her a little bit.

He reached around her to caress her breast. She bit her lip, wanting to push into his touch, and that just didn’t make any sense. Why did it feel as if he had the right to fondle her? With anyone else, she’d feel as if she were being groped.

When he slipped his other hand between her open legs, she stiffened. He simply continued, sliding his fingers in her wetness, and pleasure flooded her senses.

“Well, sugar,” he whispered, one finger tracing circles around her clit. “You might act like you didn’t enjoy making Sam happy, but you seem a tad aroused. Might that be true?”

A mortified flush scalded her cheeks. True, she hadn’t wanted to start, but sucking on Sam’s cock, hearing Marcus’s firm instructions-and imagining his cock instead-had sizzled her veins.

“Answer me, sugar.” He pinched her nipple, a small admonishment, and dammit, she was hot enough the tiny pain sent a shot of electricity straight to her pussy. It sure didn’t help her focus that his finger kept sliding up and over her clit.

“You know it’s true,” she said sullenly.

The lack of a Sir earned her another pinch, on her clit this time, and she yelped. “Sir. Yes, Sir.”

“Gabrielle, you seem to have difficulty following the rules. Are you sure you want to be here? I do think a trainee position is demanding too much of you.”

“I can handle it.” Maybe. However, physical punishment might be easier than him turning her on as easily as if he’d flipped a switch. And her emotions were…off. She wanted to stay right here with his arms around her. But that wasn’t the job. Decoy. I’m a decoy.

“You are a stubborn little thing.” He released her. “Stand on up now.”

Already missing the safety and the warmth of his embrace, she rose to her feet. Off to one side, a group of both submissives and doms were observing and laughing. She’d acquired an audience. Time for bratty sub to emerge.

But…oh God, she didn’t want another one of his punishments. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling cold. Alone. Wanting him to hold her again. Stupid her, for wishing he’d like her.

Stupid her for thinking about anything but the task at hand.

As Marcus stood, Gabi motioned to the audience and said loudly, “Everyone else in this place has on clothes. This isn’t fair, S-” She barely kept herself from saying Sir. What the hell was wrong with her?

His mouth thinned. “Well now, I reckon we can find you something to wear.” As she stared at him in surprise-he’d caved in?-he led her back to the bar.

The giant bartender wandered over. “What can I get you, Marcus?”

“I do believe I could use some thick nylon rope and upper decorations, paper and a marker.”

The bartender rummaged under the bar. As he set out a coil of rope and the rest of Marcus’s requests, he shook his head at her. “Have you been a bad sub, pet?”

“He’s just being pissy,” she said and got a snort of laughter from the bartender. She frowned at the items on the bar. Rope? “But…but I wanted clothes…”

“You want to be here? Then show me.” Master Marcus’s cold voice shriveled her willpower to nothing.

Under his pitiless blue gaze, she couldn’t find…anything…to say. Staring up at him, she realized that despite Z’s assurance that Marcus would keep her for a month, this dom might refuse to work with her. And he was the only trainer. “I do want to be here.”

The corner of his mouth turned up, as if he saw her uncertainty. “Then wear your…clothing…politely for the remainder of the night.” Marcus wound the rope around her, his sure hands twining it under and between her breasts, pulling it until the pressure caused her breasts to stick out and the skin to tauten.

It felt…strange. Snug as if the ropes held her in an embrace. And as he touched her, as his intent eyes studied her, she tingled and her nipples bunched into little points.

Once finished, he nodded in satisfaction and opened the small plastic envelope on the bar top. Two beaded pieces of jewelry fell into his hand.

She frowned, recognizing them a second before he bent and put his mouth over her left nipple. He set a hand behind her butt and prevented her from stepping back. Oh my God.

He sucked forcefully, his tongue swirling around the crest. As her breast swelled, the ropes seemed to compress even more, and the feeling of his mouth…pulling…sent pleasure spiraling to her pussy. He straightened and rubbed her nipple, keeping it erect as the skin dried. By the time he stopped, she was ready to moan.

Until he put a clamp on the very swollen, sensitive peak.

She squeaked, tried to grab her breast to yank the damned thing off, and he caught her hands.

“It’ll settle in a minute, but as contrary as you are, I got a notion you won’t leave these in place,” he said, his eyes on her face. “Let’s just remove the temptation.” He forced her hands behind her back, and one snick later, he’d locked her handcuffs together. And oh, God, the position squeezed the clamp until it felt like fingernails were biting into her nipple.

Under the feel of the cuffs, the control he took over her, she couldn’t hold back her whine. “Please, Sir.”

His head tilted and he studied her. “Please release you? Or give you more?”

The accuracy of his question stabbed right through her. The clamp hurt and yet… More. I want more. Push me, control me… “Release.”

He didn’t free her, neither from the restraints, nor his gaze for a long, long minute. “No. You’re not being truthful with me…and you’ve also proven you have no discipline whatsoever.” He bent and sucked on her other breast, squeezing the areola between his teeth. Fire shot down into her pussy. Again he teased her with his fingers until her nipple dried.

The second clamp went on, and she hissed at the stinging, burning pain. She twisted and yanked on her cuffs to get free. “Dammit!”

He studied her face. “You have a safe word, Gabrielle. You could use it about now.”

He’d like that, wouldn’t he? “No,” she gritted out.

His eyes hardened, and he tugged on one clamp. “No, what?”

“No, Sir.” Damn you to hell and back. She glared at him.

“I can smell your arousal, sugar,” he said softly. “Do not continue to sass me, or I will bend you over a bar stool and take you right now so everyone else can see how excited you are.”

She took a step back. He wouldn’t.

But from the unyielding look in his eyes, she knew he would. And the image, the thought of how it would feel to be taken here by him made liquid pool in her lower half. How could this merciless lawyer be the first man to excite her in…forever?

Even knowing she should keep poking at him, she bit her lip and kept silent. I really, really don’t want to play the brat anymore. Besides, she had the people around the bar avidly watching, so maybe she’d done enough for now. She’d definitely annoyed Mr. Lawyer, after all.

He wrote on the paper and tucked it under the rope. She tried to see, but her breasts blocked her view of the writing.

“You don’t have to serve drinks any longer tonight. Go and walk ten laps around the bar. Since you appear to enjoy attention, you can let the doms admire your…clothing.”

He waited. With a sigh, he tugged on a clamp strongly enough her response broke right out of her. “Yes, Sir!”

“Take yourself off then.”

Agent Rhodes was sitting off to one side, sipping his drink and watching. As Dickhead’s gaze traveled over her roped and clamped breasts and his mouth twisted into a sneer, she felt cheap. Dirty.

She firmed her lips and continued on, trudging toward the back of the bar, wishing she could leave. But she couldn’t. This is for you, Kim. And when you’re home, we’ll go out and laugh about what I did to get you back. We will.

She glanced over her shoulder and realized Master Marcus hadn’t moved. As he talked with Cullen and another dom, he watched her as if wondering what she’d do next. Yet his expression didn’t make her feel dirty-just powerless, which somehow melted her insides.

A second later, a young dom stepped into her path. “Cool jewelry,” he said.

“Leave me alone.” She tried to detour around him.

“You’re a rude one.” He grasped one dangling nipple clamp in one hand, using it like a painful leash as he cupped her other breast.

Owwww. Hands clenched, she held still, knowing Marcus watched. Had given permission. Somehow that made this stranger’s touch feel right, even disconcertingly exciting. The dom fondled her breasts until they burned, and let her go.

Two more doms did the same. What had Marcus written on the paper?

It didn’t stop. Her snapping and insults simply resulted in the clamps getting tugged until her breasts cried for relief. She tried walking faster, but doms still slipped off the bar stools to stop her. Two laps. Three. And all the time she walked, she felt Master Marcus studying her.

Eight laps…

Ten laps. Oh thank God, she’d made her ten. She looked around. With the club almost empty, she didn’t need to play decoy any longer. Her night was over, and she wanted to go home so badly she shook like an addict needing a fix.

Marcus still sat on the bar stool, sipping a drink, his face unreadable.

She stopped in front of him, saw no one stood close enough to hear. “Please, Sir. Can I get these off? May I go home now?” If he said no, she’d probably cry.

The fine lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Sugar, since you asked so prettily, I’m happy to do that little favor for you.”

She’d expected him to free her wrists first. Instead he pinned her between his knees. He set one hand on her left clamp and said, “Brace yourself, sweetheart.”

“What?”

He removed the clamp.

“Aaaaah!” She couldn’t keep the wail from escaping as blood rushed into her abused nipple. Locked securely behind her back, her arms jerked futilely. Her breast burned as if he’d covered it with acid.

“Shhh.” He bent and licked lightly over the sore peak, easing the burn slightly, and soon each circle of his wet tongue sent erotic pulses to her pussy.

As the ache receded and the heat inside her increased, she realized she was panting. She tried to retreat.

He chuckled. “No, stay here, sugar.” He tucked an arm around her waist, an iron bar imprisoning her.

Before she had a chance to get ready, he detached the other clamp-the sadistic bastard-and gently touched her breast with his tongue. The sensations roiling inside her were too much: pain and need and confusion. Like an earthquake, a shaking started in her stomach and worked its way out until even her knees trembled.

He straightened, his hands on her waist keeping her from falling. After studying her for a moment, he unclamped her cuffs and pulled her into his arms. She laid her head in the hollow of his shoulder and felt as if the world around her were crumpling. What was wrong with her?

His arms tightened, his rock-hard body a place of stability. “It’s all right, darlin’. Shhh.”

The pain eased to a low throbbing, and her trembling diminished as she rested against him.

“You’ve never had on nipple clamps before, have you?” he murmured. “Never done a public blowjob, never had rope work, never really submitted. Was anything on your application honest?”

He knew. Closing her eyes against the sense of failure, she swallowed. “Some.”

“Why the lies?” His voice was level, and his arms firm around her. His chest rose and fell slowly and evenly with each breath.

“I wanted to make sure you’d take me as a trainee.” At least that was honest.

As if he could tell, he sighed. “Means that much to you, sugar?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered into his shoulder.

“Why?”

Anxiety ripped at her. Must he keep asking questions? “I-I can’t explain really. It’s just something I want-I need.” For Kim.

“Well.” He didn’t move for a minute. Two. “All right, darlin’. If Master Z is willing to give you a chance, I’ll do the same.”

Oh thank God, he wasn’t going to make her leave. Relief brought tears to her eyes, and her voice thickened. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Don’t lie to me again, Gabrielle.”

She’d have to lie to him her entire time here. She had a moment to get her expression under control before he set her back, holding her for a second to ensure she could stand. She kept her gaze lowered so he wouldn’t read the guilt in her eyes. Let him think her embarrassed or ready to cry or whatever.

After removing the paper from under one rope, he set it on the bar. He unwound everything quickly, making the throbbing in her breasts increase again. When she tried to touch them, he brushed her hands aside, and smiling slightly, he massaged them, ignoring her moan of pain, giving her a level look when she clasped his wrists to make him stop.

She let her arms fall to her sides, although her hands fisted. Pain mingled with pleasure as each brush of his fingers on her nipples sent need shooting to her clit. She bit her lip, feeling the heat rising within her. When she chanced a peek at him, he was studying her-her face, her hands, her shoulders. A slight smile curved his lips.

“So, Gabrielle.” His thumbs circled her distended, very sensitive nipples, somehow making her clit throb as well. “What did you learn from this lesson?”

That I’ve never known I could be so turned on. No. Bad answer.

She glanced at the writing on the paper he’d tucked under the ropes: ENJOY THE PRETTY BREASTS. ENJOY THEM LONGER IF SHE ISN’T RESPECTFUL. MASTER MARCUS. No wonder the doms had manhandled her. I’ve learned how really mean you can be didn’t seem like a good answer either. “Not to demand clothing.”

His mouth thinned slightly. “Try again.”

“Not to demand anything and to show respect, Sir.” Thank God the place had emptied. Even Agent Dickhead had left. He’d wait in the parking lot to trail her discretely to her apartment, undoubtedly hoping the kidnapper would act during his watch.

“That’s right.” His lips curved up. “Give me a kiss and thank me for your lesson in manners.”

Gee, boss, thanks for torturing me?

His hands closed around her arms, and he pulled her forward.

She winced when her nipples mashed against his suit-thank God the material wasn’t rough, she thought, before his lips closed over hers. Velvety and firm. Competent and gentle.

And then he took her deeper, so hard and fast her head spun. His grip on her arm kept her in place; his other hand cupped her jaw as he plundered, finishing off his lesson of just who was in charge.