Make Me, Sir
Page 5
To her surprise—and dismay—he released her from the chains without doing anything else. She wanted sex, and he didn’t? “But…”
Ah, the expression on the little submissive’s face was priceless. She’d just encountered the first of the lessons she’d have to embrace.
As she stared up at him with beautiful brown eyes, Marcus pressed his palm between her legs again, enjoying the telltale wetness. “You will arrive dressed appropriately for a fetish club, but I may remove some or all of your clothing. Your body is mine to play with as I please—unless I give another dom permission.”
He paused then continued. “You are not to touch yourself. You are not to climax without my permission. That includes both here at the club and any other time, including when you’re at home. I’ll put a limit on it though—for the next two weeks, all pleasure for you will come at my command or not at all.”
She shivered, and he felt the involuntary clenching of her pussy. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
He picked up her clothing from the floor and handed it to her. She wasn’t a long-standing member of the club, so he’d start from scratch with protocol instructions. He quickly ran through what she’d need to know for tonight: respectful behavior, appropriate ways to address a dom, kneeling, the meaning of her ribbons, and how much touching other doms could do. Seeing the mixture of dismay and arousal on her face, he wondered again at her request for training. She didn’t seem as…wholehearted…as most subs who begged to be trainees. “Do you have any questions?”
“You really do sound like a lawyer sometimes,” she said under her breath, and before he could react, she asked, “Will I do any scenes tonight or—”
“That’s up to me. Entirely.”
She glanced at the clothing in her hands and back up with a pleading look in her eyes. Big, appealing puppy-dog eyes.
He shook his head no.
The little sigh she gave made his lips quirk. Truly she was rather cute, bless her heart. She had her work cut out for her though. Protocols, an attitude of service, holding back orgasms, various types of play and toys. Preparing for anal play. Instruction in oral if needed. He eyed the blue streak in her hair. People who followed the rules rarely put blue in their hair. She’d already earned a swat on the leg at a time most subs would try their utmost to appear sweet and obedient. He understood Z’s concern over her attitude.
His mouth tightened. His ex-wife had loved to indulge in full-blown bratty behavior, not because she was inherently ornery, but for the show. She wanted the attention—not his, but everyone else’s. Of all the subs, he particularly disliked the insolent and ill-disciplined ones.
At the bar, Andrea smiled at him. “Master Marcus.”
“Please tuck away Gabrielle’s clothes until later.” He nodded at Gabrielle to hand her clothing over. She did with another little sigh. Just to check her reaction to being touched in public, he clasped her breast. His arm behind her back prevented her retreat as he caressed and teased her nipple to a stiff point. Her hands had fisted. They’d have to work on that, but she hadn’t moved. She flushed with embarrassment, but after a minute, her body relaxed and she unconsciously leaned into his touch.
“Good job, little subbie,” he said in an undertone for her ears.
She looked up at him, desire and surrender in her eyes, and then stiffened as if surprised at her response—as if displeased with it.
Thanks for the challenge, Z.
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.”
Ah, the expression on the little submissive’s face was priceless. She’d just encountered the first of the lessons she’d have to embrace.
As she stared up at him with beautiful brown eyes, Marcus pressed his palm between her legs again, enjoying the telltale wetness. “You will arrive dressed appropriately for a fetish club, but I may remove some or all of your clothing. Your body is mine to play with as I please—unless I give another dom permission.”
He paused then continued. “You are not to touch yourself. You are not to climax without my permission. That includes both here at the club and any other time, including when you’re at home. I’ll put a limit on it though—for the next two weeks, all pleasure for you will come at my command or not at all.”
She shivered, and he felt the involuntary clenching of her pussy. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
He picked up her clothing from the floor and handed it to her. She wasn’t a long-standing member of the club, so he’d start from scratch with protocol instructions. He quickly ran through what she’d need to know for tonight: respectful behavior, appropriate ways to address a dom, kneeling, the meaning of her ribbons, and how much touching other doms could do. Seeing the mixture of dismay and arousal on her face, he wondered again at her request for training. She didn’t seem as…wholehearted…as most subs who begged to be trainees. “Do you have any questions?”
“You really do sound like a lawyer sometimes,” she said under her breath, and before he could react, she asked, “Will I do any scenes tonight or—”
“That’s up to me. Entirely.”
She glanced at the clothing in her hands and back up with a pleading look in her eyes. Big, appealing puppy-dog eyes.
He shook his head no.
The little sigh she gave made his lips quirk. Truly she was rather cute, bless her heart. She had her work cut out for her though. Protocols, an attitude of service, holding back orgasms, various types of play and toys. Preparing for anal play. Instruction in oral if needed. He eyed the blue streak in her hair. People who followed the rules rarely put blue in their hair. She’d already earned a swat on the leg at a time most subs would try their utmost to appear sweet and obedient. He understood Z’s concern over her attitude.
His mouth tightened. His ex-wife had loved to indulge in full-blown bratty behavior, not because she was inherently ornery, but for the show. She wanted the attention—not his, but everyone else’s. Of all the subs, he particularly disliked the insolent and ill-disciplined ones.
At the bar, Andrea smiled at him. “Master Marcus.”
“Please tuck away Gabrielle’s clothes until later.” He nodded at Gabrielle to hand her clothing over. She did with another little sigh. Just to check her reaction to being touched in public, he clasped her breast. His arm behind her back prevented her retreat as he caressed and teased her nipple to a stiff point. Her hands had fisted. They’d have to work on that, but she hadn’t moved. She flushed with embarrassment, but after a minute, her body relaxed and she unconsciously leaned into his touch.
“Good job, little subbie,” he said in an undertone for her ears.
She looked up at him, desire and surrender in her eyes, and then stiffened as if surprised at her response—as if displeased with it.
Thanks for the challenge, Z.
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.”
