Make Me, Sir

Chapter Five

Well, that had been amusing. The spotter for the Harvest Association sipped his bourbon as Marcus dragged the redhead to the area for chaining up submissives when their masters had duties elsewhere. Delightful show she’d put on, but now she appeared rather subdued. If one good spanking knocked the defiance out of her, she wouldn’t do at all.

Fairly pretty, although a shame about the scar. Marred goods brought a lower selling price. But she was a decent age. Young enough to appeal, old enough to have some reserves. The ones inexperienced in life tended to shatter like glass. The Harvest Association prided itself on offering quality stock, and for the upcoming auction, they were selling an attitude, essentially promising that a master would have a good amount of fun before he finally broke his new slave.

Well, no hurry to make a decision. He’d already targeted two subs from the Shadowlands. They could pick this one up in the next harvest if she proved satisfactory.

He smiled. He did have a fondness for red hair.

Marcus would take requests from doms to scene with her. Might be fun to sample the goods beforehand.

Gabi’s knees hurt. Her butt hurt. Her eyes felt swollen from crying, and her running mascara undoubtedly made her look like a raccoon. But inside she felt…content. Warm like when the kitties lay on her stomach.

He’d spanked her.

Damn him, she told herself, trying to find a spark of true anger. None there. She’d pushed him. Mostly as her bratty decoy dictated, but…part of her had wanted to see how far she could go. How far he’d let her go.

Not far at all, and he’d corrected her instantly. Painfully. He sure hadn’t done the constant, silent disapproval like her parents. And then he’d held her as if the spanking had wiped her slate clean.

Had she hoped he wouldn’t put up with her crap? Would take charge and punish her?

After fifteen minutes or so, she still hadn’t discovered any explanation for her weird emotions. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of red.

In a short red vinyl skirt and bustier, the brunette trainee who always seemed so energetic trotted over. “Hi, Gabrielle. I’m Sally, if you don’t remember.”

Gabi straightened and pulled herself together. “You can call me Gabi. It’s a little easier.”

“Okay, Gabi.” The brunette leaned against a chair and massaged her foot. “Damn Master Z’s rules that subs either go barefoot or wear übersexy stilettos that would leave us crippled. More crippled.”

Gabi managed a smile. “My feet haven’t hurt like this since I waitressed in college.”

“Oh, girlfriend, if your feet are the only things hurting at the end of an evening, you’re in good shape.”

“Yeah. So I’ve found.”

“He really pounded on you good.” Sally gave her a sympathetic look. “When he took us from Master Cullen, I thought he’d be a pushover. He’s such a gentleman, you know. So polite and he never raises his voice, but damn, he’s strict.”

Gabi grimaced. “No kidding.”

“He’s death on bratty behavior. I heard him tell Nolan that his ex-wife acted out a lot, and we’ve noticed he chooses only the super-obedient ones for himself. Like his girlfriend-she makes you want to gag, she’s so sweet.”

He wanted his subs obedient and sweet. The information sent a pang through Gabi. He’ll never like me then. Even if she wasn’t acting defiant for the FBI, she’d still never be considered amenable. That just wasn’t part of her makeup.

“Anyway, he wants you in the medical room. Do you know where it is?”

“At the back, down a hallway on the right?”

“That’s it.” Sally unhooked the chain and unclipped Gabi’s cuffs, freeing her hands.

“Thanks.” Trying to imagine what Marcus planned, Gabi threaded her way across the room, around a knot of arguing doms, past a crying sub with a domme whispering, “There, there.” She dodged a gay couple working out their upcoming scene. Every man got a quick look to see if the perp might somehow give himself away. No such luck.

She passed the Goth-looking trainee and received a disapproving stare…as if her insolent behavior reflected badly on the other trainees. Gabi hadn’t thought about how the other subs would view her actions, and a stab of guilt made her wince. Sorry.

In the hallway, she approached the medical room with increasing apprehension. Last night she’d seen all the nasty-looking equipment…and Marcus was angry at her. She stopped in the doorway, absently rubbing clammy fingers over the scar on her cheek.

The gynecological table took up the center of the room. A sink and cupboards occupied the left, shelves at the rear, and a rolling stand with an enema bag hanging from it stood in one corner.

By the sink, Master Marcus was removing his coat. He tossed it over the back of a chair and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, baring disconcertingly muscled forearms. Spotting Gabi, he patted the exam table. “Up here, sugar. On your back.”

Her feet stuck to the floor as if someone had covered the hardwood with adhesive. Last night she’d been appalled to see a woman getting an enema. It hadn’t looked like fun at all. Surely he wouldn’t…would he? She didn’t even have to fake her defiance this time. “Whatever you’re planning, I don’t want to do.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I believe I instructed you in the proper response to a command?”

The authoritative look in his eyes killed her rebellion dead. “Yes, Sir.” She moved toward the table so slowly he huffed a laugh and grasped her by the nape again as if she were a cringing cur. Yet the feel of his warm, firm hand settled some of her nerves, making it easier to jump up onto the table. Her sore bottom met the cool leather, and she squeaked.

He chuckled. Then with his hand behind her back and another between her breasts, he firmly pushed her flat. Her heart jammed itself up in her throat, and she couldn’t help glancing at the pole with the enema bag.

A crease appeared in his cheek, and he ran his hands up and down her upper arms. “Relax, darlin’. I’m not going to put long tubes up your pussy or ass.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she said fervently. He laughed, and damn, he seemed so different when he smiled that she wanted to say something, anything to keep the curve on his lips. He had a tiny crease off the corner of his-

“However, I am going to strap you down fairly tightly.”

Her gaze shot up.

“And then, I’m fixin’ to shave that little pussy of yours.”

Oh God. No way. “I rather do it myself. Really.”

He ignored her and pushed the metal tray table toward her feet.

“Listen, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested in your help.” He’d touch her, look at her down there, and the lighting here was way too bright. Her insides curled right up into a tiny little ball.

“I didn’t ask your opinion.” His steady gaze pierced her. Then his lips quirked up. “You act nervous as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.”

With good reason, dammit.

At the foot of the table, he set her feet into the stirrups. When he strapped her ankles in, her eyes widened. Her gynecologist never did that. Oh, this isn’t good.

After pushing her skirt up to expose her lower half, he slid her down the smooth leather until her butt rested on the edge of the table. A wide strap across her body just below her breasts pinned her arms to her sides. Then he secured another one across her waist and nodded. “That looks just fine.”

Just fine? She wiggled, and as the full realization of her helplessness zinged through her, a thin sweat broke out on her body. She couldn’t lift her arms, and her dread rose with each thwarted movement.

Arms folded, he watched her struggle. “Gabrielle.” He spoke just the one word, his voice deep, breaking her out of the panic.

She looked into his steady eyes. He was utterly self-confident. Controlled. Dominant. A weird, glowy feeling lit inside her like a candle, melting her fears.

And heating her instead. She tried to close her legs, testing the restraints without success. Her pussy was completely exposed, and he’d be putting those lean, powerful hands on her most private parts. Oh God. More heat poured into her as if the candle had set something aflame.

He smiled and said softly, “There we go.”

A metal stand held a bowl of water, razors, and bottles. After pushing it to the foot of the table, Marcus sat on a rolling stool and stationed himself between her legs. With a tsking sound, he pushed the stirrups father apart, opening her completely.

She stiffened, unnerved at the way he’d repositioned her. Not asking, just doing. He’d do to her just as he pleased. Excitement tingled across her skin, and she felt her nipples bunching so tightly they hurt.

The hum of conversation drew her attention to where people stood in the hallway, looking through the huge windows. At her. At her exposed pussy. She moaned and closed her eyes.

A warm hand stroked over her calf, a soothing, petting gesture. “Trainees are often on display, sugar. Can you handle that?”

His concern made her breath catch. How long since anyone had worried about her feelings? She tried to push the thought away. Don’t get caught up in this sub stuff, girl. You’re here as a decoy, nothing else.

And aside from the craving to run screaming out of the place, she was handling it just fine. Handle it better. What if the kidnapper stood out in the hallway with the other people? The thought chilled her and spurred her into action. She rattled the stirrups and snapped, “Doesn’t look like I have much choice, now does it? Do you tie up all your girlfriends?”

Silence. The stool squeaked as he rose. He walked slowly to her side and looked at her for a long minute, and then the sternness in his gaze faded into such understanding that her eyes burned. He cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking over her lips. She had to firm her chin to keep it from quivering.

“Do you get more mouthy when you’re scared, darlin’?”

She couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“Gabrielle, trainees have a lot more experience in the lifestyle, and they want what the Shadowlands offers. You, however…”

She stiffened, jolted into awareness that she might have pushed him too far. She hadn’t even made it through two nights, and he wanted to boot her out. But Z said he couldn’t if she refused to go. “I do, Sir. I want it.”

He studied her. “I don’t believe you. You know, if anyone but Master Z had admitted you…” He sighed. “If I asked you to leave right now, would you?”

She set her lips and shook her head.

“I think you’re biting off more than you can chew, but so be it.” He looked at her a minute longer, then touched his finger to her nose. “Stubborn.”

She inhaled in relief as he returned to his stool. A second later, a warm washcloth landed on her pussy, making her jump.

Marcus frowned through the entire shaving process. He could usually get inside the head of a sub and figure out what made them tick, what they wanted and what they needed as well. But this little one…

Not used to being handled intimately. Not comfortable with public display although he believed her when she said she’d played in clubs before. The Shadowlands, however, was more personal than a horde of strangers.

He finished shaving the top of her mound, then inserted two fingers into her vagina, ignoring her gasp. Hot and silky. Very nice. Again he noted her tightness-as if she hadn’t had a man in a long time. He doubted her hiatus from sex came from a low sex drive since she was definitely aroused right now.

Thrusting unhurriedly in and out of her soft cunt, he felt her muscles constrict around his intrusion. His cock hardened, demanding he intrude farther, but he couldn’t do that. Although he’d arrange scenes for her with other doms, he’d wait for a while before taking her himself. She needed to know she could trust her trainer.

Eventually though…he looked forward to playing with her. Her sassiness didn’t annoy him, not in the way he’d thought it would. It was more of a challenge. And in between her idiotic rebellions, her cheerful personality drew him like a fire on a cold mountain morning. A few burns from sparks might prove worth the chance to get warm.

After withdrawing his fingers from her vagina, he pulled the skin taut on her outer labia. She had pretty curls, the same golden red as on her head. A natural redhead. The fiery color was well suited to her personality. The razor scraped her clean, exposing skin the color of rich cream. Plump pink inner folds peeked out from the center.

He drew her buttocks apart, smiling at her instinctive stiffening, and removed the scant hair closer to her anus. The puckered bud would obviously need some preparation before she accepted a cock there.

After rinsing off the shaving cream, he massaged in gel to decrease the irritation and considered his problem. Unlike the other trainees, Gabrielle hadn’t been a part of the Shadowlands for months. To make the situation worse, her previous club play had been light. And because of her constant defiance, they’d gotten off to a bad start.

No wonder Z’s friend considered her a problem. No dom would put up with such excessive insolence for long. Or one might consider it an excuse to whip the hell out of her. The thought turned his stomach, yet he had few choices here. She needed to want to please him more than she wanted to defy him, but until she did or he figured out what would motivate her, he’d have to discipline her.

It seemed like punishing her was all he’d accomplished tonight. He stroked her thigh and felt the faint quiver. Her eyes were closed, her breathing a little fast, nipples in taut peaks. Needy. Already restrained. Marcus smiled. He’d very much like to give her as much pleasure as he had pain, and nothing made a woman more vulnerable or created a bond faster than giving her an orgasm.

Leaning forward, he framed her pussy with his hands and ran his tongue up and over her clit.

She’d known he’d finished when he rubbed in a cool gel and stroked her thigh comfortingly. Gabi relaxed. She’d worried for a minute when he’d pushed his fingers into her pussy, but then he’d simply resumed shaving her. He’d let her up now, and maybe she could leave. She really, really wanted to go home and try to get her emotions back under control.

She saw him lean forward, felt his hands pull her labia apart, and…something hot and wet slid right over her clit. She jerked so hard the straps pinched her skin. Oh my God! He was licking-licking-her. The blast of heat ran through her like a forest fire.

His tongue worked inward, stroking newly bare areas never before touched like this, then playing with her clit, teasing the hood and grazing over the very top. Her entire body hit complete need as if she’d turned into a sports car, zero to a hundred in eight seconds.

She gasped when he pushed two fingers inside her, ruthlessly stretching her open, sending pleasure deep into her core. He pulled back slowly, circled her entrance, then thrust his fingers in and out, setting up a fast, driving rhythm. Dear God, this wasn’t sex play, this was a total you-will-come-now, done by someone who knew just how to make it happen. Her hips kept trying to rise, defeated by the strap across her waist. Pressure formed low in her belly and coiled tight…tighter. She hovered on the peak for just a second.

And then he pulled her clit into his mouth and sucked, sliding his tongue over the most sensitive spot.

Everything inside her exploded, shooting pleasure outward so strong and fast that her head should have shattered. More waves of heat burst through her until her fingers tingled.

His tongue lapped her gently, making her vagina clench again and again, each time meeting the solid fingers inside her. God, she couldn’t move, couldn’t escape, and every time she tried and failed, another wave would sweep over her.

When the roller coaster finally stopped, he removed his fingers, and she shuddered at the feeling of loss. For a minute, he stroked her thigh, easing her down, and then walked around the table.

“You come quite nicely, darlin’,” he said softly. He put an arm on each side of her shoulders, and she had a moment to see those thick forearms before he bent to nuzzle her neck. His wonderful scent, a subtle amber and musk, surrounded her. When his beard shadow scraped the hollow under her ear, goose bumps bloomed across her body. He kissed her gently, nibbled her lips, and plunged in.

She could taste herself and then only him as he took her mouth, demanding a response in the same way he had her orgasm. She melted inside under the heady knowledge that he could take what he wanted from her-and she’d give him whatever he wanted.

When he pulled back, his eyes were heavy-lidded. “You kiss as nicely as you come, Gabrielle. Next week we’ll have more time together, but I didn’t want to leave you uncomfortable until then.”

The sound of a high voice drew her notice, and she realized people still stood in the hallway, watching. Audience. She had a job to do, even though she’d rather lie here and soak up his attention-his approving attention that made her feel as if he liked her. Damned if she didn’t really want him to like her.

No, Gabi. Think, think. Must act like a brat for the audience. A little difficult to do, considering how she was tied down. And she’d just come. Then again, she could attack the man where it would hurt the most-on his performance. “You think I got off? That was a hiccup from too much lunch,” she said loudly and heard a few gasps as well as a titter of laughter.

His eyes narrowed. “An ornery one, aren’t you? Trainee, I believe you’d best have no confusion over what you’re feeling. Perhaps a lesson is in order.” The expression on his face wasn’t angry, quite, or annoyed, quite. Not even determined. He acted as if she’d merely confirmed his expectations. Without explanation, he turned and took gloves and lube from the shelves beside the sink.

Glove? Lube? Wait. “Sir?”

“Shhh, sugar, I think it’s time for another hiccup.” Still standing, he grasped the table’s stirrups and ratcheted them upward until her feet were not only widely spread, but as high as his shoulders. The position lifted her butt an inch, but the strap around her waist kept the rest of her body flat on the table. “That’s just right.”

She raised her head to see what he was doing, but he held his hands below the level of the table. Giving up, she laid her head down, wanting to take back her words, yet oddly excited at not knowing what he’d do next. Nothing about him was predictable; she had a feeling he never would be. He was…smart. Maybe too smart for her, and that was an uncomfortable thought.

After resuming his seat on the stool, he glided his tongue and lips over her pussy, slower this time. Her head started to spin. When he licked over her clit, she clenched her hands at the sudden return of need. He bit her labia, and the strange, stinging pain somehow made everything else more intense. He kept teasing her, and she realized he planned to make her climax again. If she thought to prevent it… Well, she couldn’t, she realized, as her clit hardened under the firm attention of his tongue. No matter what she wanted, he would have her coming again in front of all these people.

Then something slick and round circled her anus. “Wait-I didn’t agree to this. Hey!”

“No, I planned to explore anal sex in your training later,” he said and pressed his finger against the puckered circle of muscle, making her squirm. “But things change. You have a tight little asshole, sugar. Push back against me now, and you’ll find it easier.”

She pulled in an unhappy breath and, realizing she had no choice, did as he asked. A merciless gloved finger penetrated where no lover had ever gone before. A tremor shook her at the way he’d relentlessly done as he wanted.

“Gabrielle. Look at me.”

She lifted her gaze.

He watched her face as his finger eased farther in. Not quite pain. The cool lubricant made him very slick, yet even the slightly increased girth of his knuckle stretched and burned. As he took possession of a place that was so very private, her insides felt funny-as if he’d taken possession of her inner self as well. She tried to squirm away and failed. “No…please.”

“Shhh. You don’t have the reins, sugar.” The controlled power in his low voice slid into her; his steady eyes pinned hers, forcing her to focus on him…and yet his finger didn’t stop moving, the lesson inescapable. He could touch her anywhere.

I don’t like this. It was too intimate, left her feeling exposed and-

His eyes released her. He smiled and lowered his head. Oh God, he wouldn’t…

A whine escaped her when he licked her clit again, so hot, so wet. Before she could adjust to that added stimulation, he slid two fingers inside her vagina, ruthlessly creating a counterpoint of thrusts with the finger in her bottom. His tongue rubbed its demand on one side of her clit, then the other, then the top.

Sensations blasted through her from too many places, and her arousal grew, building high and hard. Somehow, as if a switch flipped, the uncomfortable sensations in her anus changed into a dark pleasure, merging with the slick sliding in her vagina until her whole pussy-her whole lower half-felt like one giant clit about to explode.

Every muscle in her body contracted. Her hips lifted futilely against the strap, trying to get closer. Her breath froze, waiting for just a little more, anything more…

His low chuckle vibrated against her labia, and then he licked insistently right over her clit, his tongue staying on it, wiggling right…there…and everything inside her spasmed in a giant tsunami of sensation, sweeping her away. The sensations from her anus added a whole new dimension until even her skin seemed to expand, billowing outward. God God God.

As the waves lessoned, and her brain clicked back on, she could still hear her yelping screams echoing around the room.

Laughter and some applause came from the hallway. She opened her eyes, blearily realizing that people had definitely watched her. Oh hell.

“Nice hiccups, Gabrielle.” Master Marcus’s final tonguing sent a shudder up her center.

She bit her lip. I am totally not going to taunt him right now.

With baby wipes from the tray, he proceeded to clean her so thoroughly, front and back, that a mortified flush heated her face.

When he finally helped her off the table, her head spun as if she’d ridden a merry-go-round for an hour, and he caught her with a powerful grip before she did a face-plant. Chuckling, he wrapped a blanket around her and sat her in a chair to one side while he cleaned the room.

He pulled on his suit jacket and stood in front of her for a second, then shook his head and scooped her into his arms.

“Jesus, wait, you can’t carry me,” she gasped. What if lifting her strained his back? What if he dropped her?

He only laughed. Hell, he wasn’t even watching where he walked.

She struggled to get out of the confining blanket, and he said in a firm voice, “Lie still, li’l subbie, or you’ll have a different type of lesson.”

Oh, that definitely sounded like a threat. She stilled. As he carried her out of the hallway and into the club, she stared at the distant floor, cringed, and looked up at his face instead. He had a stern jawline. His white shirt was opened a couple of buttons, displaying his corded neck. Against her shoulder, his rock-hard bicep bunched, yet he didn’t act as if he carried anything heavier than a…a poodle or something.

She tried to relax, unsure if she liked the sensation of being cared for-whether she wanted to be or not.

At a small sitting area hidden from the main room by a row of plants, he settled into an oversize leather chair. She glanced around. Completely private…she wouldn’t have to perform right now.

He tipped her against his chest, settling her head into the hollow of his shoulder. “There we go,” he murmured. “Are you comfortable, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered. He was being so nice. Unexpected and unwelcome tears prickled her eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

He pushed her hair back behind her ear, then put a finger under her chin, lifting her face. “What do you mean by ‘this’? Holding you?”

“Yes. And…and getting me off when you didn’t…and shaving me…and-”

“You are very inexperienced in true dom-sub relationships, aren’t you?” With her head against him, she could hear the laugh rumbling in his chest. “Many reasons, sugar. First, I’m holding you now because you needed to be held.” He kissed her lips softly. “As your trainer and dom, it’s my job to see that you get what you need.”

“But I wanted down.”

His mouth turned up in a faint smile. “What you need, sugar, not what you want.”

Why did that send a tremor through her yet make her snuggle closer? Why did an iron-hard arm behind her back feel like safety?

But as her parents complained, a more argumentative person than Gabrielle had never lived. “I didn’t need to get off.” Hadn’t even thought about it.

“You need to learn that pleasure as well as pain comes from your dom’s hands.” His eyes met her, level and confident. “And you need to know, right down to the bone, that I have access to every part of your body.”

He’d shaved her, such an intimate task, and touched her, controlled her, forced an orgasm from her. He’d put his finger into her bottom and made her come again. Even now, his arms held her so firmly that she realized she remained under his control.

Her whole body started to shake as if she’d been sitting in the snow, and her breath thickened, forcing her to work for air. This wasn’t what she’d signed on for. He kept taking…more, like with a Monopoly game, seeing her hotels and land disappear piece by piece until the banker owned her. I don’t want him to own me.

I don’t…

She tried to get up. His arms caged her.

He rubbed his chin on the top of her head, enjoying the light feminine scent. He’d discovered the lingering fragrance in the crease of her hip and in the hollow of her neck. Her lotion matched her shampoo. Her clothing today was coordinated, and yesterday her toenails had been the same blue as her hair. She liked pushing against rules, but in her own life, she liked…consistency? Order?

So maybe her need to rebel wasn’t to reject rules entirely, but just those imposed by another.

Her reaction to his control-the way she trembled now-worried him. So new to domination. She shouldn’t be a trainee. What the hell are you doing, Z? Her fetish club visits had probably given her a few thrills. A sub’s first time under command, no matter how lightweight, could be a revelation for her. But she had no experience with surrendering not only her body but her emotions as well.

Is that why she kept defying everyone? She wanted to submit, yet it frightened her? No. Maybe. He frowned. Sometimes she appeared uncomfortable with her own behavior, as if she didn’t want to disobey. Other times her sassiness seemed true to her personality.

And right about the time he wanted to write her off, she’d respond so sweetly she’d rouse every dominant instinct in him.

He tightened his arms around her for both control and comfort and simply held her. Because that’s what she needed now-and so did he. The memory of spanking her didn’t sit well with him.

A man didn’t hurt a woman, not where he came from. In BDSM, he’d learned many submissives loved being given pain to heighten their pleasure. It had taken him longer to understand that pain dispensed for punishment could often fill a submissive’s emotional needs.

Other aspects of BDSM had proven easier to accept. Domination. Bondage… He definitely enjoyed bondage, watching a little sub squirm, then give him…everything.

How long before Gabrielle reached that point?

Probably a while. She was quite the piece of work.

At the sound of soft footsteps, he looked up to see Celine mosey past the sitting area. Although he’d dated the lovely blonde a few times and occasionally topped her here, he hadn’t called her in a month or so. Not since he’d realized his income and his status in the club interested her more than his personality.

She glanced over, pretended surprise at seeing him, and came to kneel at his feet. “Can I get you a drink, Master?”

Dammit, her use of master grated on him. The title, used without his name, implied he was her master, a relationship encompassing far more than a few scenes.

Gabrielle stirred. She stared at Celine, then squirmed, trying to rise.

“Stop, Gabrielle,” Marcus said. He frowned at Celine and jerked his head in a way that left no chance for her to misunderstand. An experienced sub, she knew better than to interrupt obvious aftercare.

Pouting, she rose and moved away.

Gabrielle had stilled, but her uncomfortable expression said the quiet moment had passed. And it was indeed time for him to return to check on the other trainees. He ignored his reluctance to let her go and set her on her feet. Her balance stayed good. Her eyes were clear and alert, although her tear-streaked mascara tugged at his heart.

But she was back to normal. He had no excuse to sit and hold her longer, no matter how much he’d enjoyed it. How content he’d been.

She started to adjust her skirt from where he’d tucked it under the waistband.

“Leave it as it is, Gabrielle. People should get a chance to admire my handiwork.” When she glared, he smothered his laugh. Definitely back to normal. “Follow one step behind me and speak only when addressed. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”