Make Me, Sir
Page 12

He stroked her hair. Why are you here, little sub? “You could use your safe word, Gabrielle. You don’t need to stay.”
A pause. Her chin firmed despite her quivering lips. “No.”
He sighed and rubbed his cheek on her silky hair, inhaling a feminine fragrance of rose and amber. “All right, Li’ll Miss Stubborn.” In that case, he needed to reinforce the lesson she’d just learned. Hopefully learned. “Respect, Gabrielle. A submissive must be polite and respectful. Do you understand?”
She sighed like a weary child and whispered against his neck, “Yes, Sir.”
“I’m very glad. I don’t think either of us wants a repeat of this.” He held her as she settled and relaxed into him, accepting his comfort, which helped them both feel better. As a submissive needed the security of a dominant’s arms, the dominant needed to provide it.
For some reason, with Gabrielle, his instincts cried out for him to hold her, to shield her, to protect her. Did she seem more vulnerable than most, despite the smart mouth, or was he pulled to her cheerful warmth like a winter fire? He tipped his head back and stared at the dark ceiling rafters. Damned if she wasn’t getting to him. God help me.
She felt so soft in his arms. Her breathing evened out, and her slender fingers unclenched; one hand rested on his shirt over his heart. His shoulders relaxed as he realized she was snuggling. How long since he had held a woman who snuggled against him?
With a silent sigh, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Up you go, Darlin’.” When she rose, he steadied her on her feet. “Now show me your pussy.”
This time she not only didn’t smart off but looked downright frightened. Slowly she lifted her skirt and showed him the red curls still adorning the mound he’d ordered her to shave.
When Master Marcus shook his head in disapproval, Gabi took a step back and tried to blink away the tears filling her eyes. Her butt hurt so bad, she wasn’t sure she’d survive more punishment.
“I’m not fixin" to spank you again, Gabrielle,” he said and rose, “although I am disappointed.” Without further words, he hooked her cuffs together behind her, guided her to the submissives" sitting area, waited for her to kneel, and attached a chain from the floor to her cuffs.
“You just set here awhile. I’ll send for you in a bit.”
She hadn’t realized how much she loved the molasses-thick warmth in his voice until it had turned cold. She lowered her head, unable to summon any ambition to act like a brat.
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.