Make Me, Sir
Page 18

When the brunette trainee walked past, Gabi stopped her. “I know dungeon monitors wear gold-trimmed vests, but what’s with the armbands?” She nodded at the two dommes. “Do those gold bands mean anything?”
“Oooh, girlfriend, did we forget to warn you about them?” Sally rolled her eyes and grinned. “Those identify the Shadowlands Masters.”
“And that’s different from a dom how?”
Sally rested her tray on her hip and thought for a second. “Okay, you know how some doms are just a little dominating like maybe a one-scoop ice cream, and others have a lot more—maybe two scoops of domination?”
Gabi nodded.
“Well, with the Masters, think supersized hot fudge sundae.” Sally giggled. “And that’s only the domination part. Add in beaucoup experience and control and all that. They’re voted Master status by the members, and it’s sure not a popularity contest.”
“Oh. Got it.”
“Masters are the best to play with, but…” Sally wrinkled her nose. “Although the regular doms can boss us a little, they have to ask Marcus for permission to do anything else. But the Masters are supposed to help with the trainees, so they can pull you into a scene or use you for a demonstration. And if you’re bratty and Marcus isn’t around, they’ll punish you themselves.”
“Now you tell me.” Gabi scowled. “That Hispanic one with all the muscles? Last night, he came down on me like a load of bricks—put me in the stocks and allowed anybody who thought I’d insulted them to whack me with a paddle.”
“Ouch. I wondered how you ended up there. Master Raoul’s usually more forgiving than Marcus. You must have been even naughtier than me.” Laughing, Sally tsk-tsked at Gabi before responding to a dom’s wave for service.
Gabi slowly headed for the bar. So that’s why the regular doms hadn’t done anything about her behavior. Looks like she’d need to concentrate on upsetting the Masters. Oh doesn’t that just sound like fun?
As she neared the bar, she spotted Master Marcus. God, he was gorgeous…and dangerous. Despite his deceptively lazy stance, power seemed to radiate from him, and when his sharp blue gaze landed on Gabi, electricity sizzled like a cut power cord, throwing sparks everywhere.
Next to Marcus stood a rough-looking man in a black, sleeveless T-shirt and a gold band on his arm. Scars on the man’s face and hands created white lines over his dark red-brown skin. As his unwavering, black eyes watched her approach, Gabi seriously considered detouring around both him and Marcus. But as she hesitated, she spotted Agent Rhodes at the end of the bar, reminding her of the stakes involved.
Okay, Kim—this is for you, honey. Jaw tensed, she headed straight for Marcus and the other guy. She forced a cocky grin and greeted Marcus. “Hey, hot stuff.”
His smile died. “Gabrielle, you don’t want to do this.”
Ignoring the way his voice made her insides tap-dance, she turned to his tough friend. “Hey, buddy, how’s it hanging?”
Marcus’s lips pressed into a straight line.
A flash of amusement flickered in his friend’s eyes before disappearing into darkness. “Your new trainee, Marcus?”
“I’m afraid so. Gabrielle, this is Master Nolan.” Marcus tilted his head at her quizzically. “How long did it take before you could sit comfortably after last Saturday?”
Two whole days. She took an involuntary step back, then made herself walk around them to set her tray down. Leaning an elbow on the bar top, she said breezily, “Oh, not that long.”
Master Marcus’s intent gaze moved over her face, her body, lingering on her hands.
She felt her hand rubbing the scar on her cheek. Oops. After tucking her hair behind an ear, she plastered on a nonchalant grin.
Marcus saw his puzzlement duplicated in Nolan’s eyes. Gabrielle wasn’t as confident as she tried to sound. His mention of spanking had tensed every muscle in that pretty little body and paled her face. Now her fingers traced the long scar on her cheek, which he’d learned meant she’d jumped past anxiety into fear.
Why did she keep pushing to get punished?
Some submissives craved pain, but she wasn’t one of them. Some wanted attention, and he still wasn’t convinced she didn’t…but she seemed genuinely mortified by spectators. Some subs" only method of relating to people was to behave like brats, but Gabrielle was a naturally friendly person. She had an infectious laugh, chatted easily, and charmed everyone. In fact, almost every single dom in the place had requested to do a scene with her.
He found most of her sassy behavior downright cute. Except for the times like now when she deliberately antagonized a dom.
As Marcus studied her, she swallowed and shifted her weight, her eyes darting away. Definitely scared.
Dammit. Spanking her hadn’t worked, and he doubted he could stomach hitting her harder. But his responsibility as a trainer demanded he teach her the consequences of insolence.
“Hot stuff,” she’d called him? “Master Nolan, could I request that you please keep her here for me?”
“You got it.” Nolan curled his hand around her upper arm, not even appearing to notice her instinctive attempt to retreat.
“Let me go!” She slapped at him. “You’re not my boss.”
Her loud protests continued as Marcus retrieved his toy bag from behind the bar, and amusement mingled with his concern. He’d spent a lot of time thinking about her, wondering what to do with her…and trying to remember he was her trainer and nothing more. Damned if he wanted to be attracted to the little nuisance.
After planning out some possible scenes for her, he’d added a few extras to the bag. Odd how apropos one happened to be.
When he returned, she was still struggling and cursing Nolan. “You dumb-ass ape, get your hand off me. What—are you the first in your family to be born without a tail?”
The dom stared at her as if he couldn’t believe the show, and Marcus almost grinned. When he’d discussed Gabrielle in the Master’s meeting before the club opened, Nolan hadn’t believed she could prove much trouble. Well, now he knew.
After setting his toy bag on the bar, Marcus gripped her hair. “Be silent.”
For about thirty seconds, her natural submissiveness shut her up as if he’d corked her mouth. Then she started again. “Listen, I don’t like manhandling, and this—”
Marcus took her wrists, pulled them behind her back, and clipped the cuffs together. When she opened her mouth for another yell, he shoved a leather gag between her teeth. He tied it firmly, smiling at the muffled shriek.
Then her inability to talk or move registered. Her body stiffened, and her eyes dilated with fear.
Before she panicked, he put his hand under her chin to force her to meet his gaze. “Gabrielle.” He held a pink squeaky toy and shook it so the bells inside rattled. A squeeze made it squeak. “Anytime I gag you, you will hold this. The toy is the substitute for your safe word, sugar. If you drop it or make it squeak, everything stops.”
Her brown eyes were huge, and she trembled like a terrified mouse. Why did she do this to herself? He slid his hand up to cup her face, and the unconscious way she rubbed her cheek on his palm told him she trusted him—would willingly submit. Only she didn’t.
With a sigh, he stayed on the path he’d set out. He put the toy in her hand. “Do you understand, sugar? Use it if something is too much for you. Make it squeak now so I know you can.”
As she made the toy sound several times, her breathing slowed.
“All right then.” He stripped off her stretchy, bright yellow hot pants with regret—she’d looked damn fine in them—lingering for a second over the soft, bare skin of her ass. Seductive, mouthy little sub. Then he gripped her waist and laid her, stomach down, on the bar, with her legs dangling off the edge.
Her teeth clamped on the gag, and she pulled uselessly at her cuffs, then tried to squirm off the bar. Seductive, mouthy, stubborn little sub. Marcus glanced at Nolan. “If you would please?”
Nolan nodded and leaned on her legs, pinning her against the bar and preventing her from kicking in the process. After gripping her cuffs, the dom had her well immobilized, although she continued to struggle like a fish tossed on dry land.
Marcus glanced at Cullen, who drew a beer as he observed the show. “Loan me a knife, please.” Before Gabrielle could react with more than widened eyes, he patted her bottom. “I’m not going to cut on you, Darlin’.”
She stared at him for a second, then gave up and lay limp under Nolan’s grip. Apparently the mention of a knife had scared the sass right out of her.
Cullen set the drink on the bar and tossed a knife at Marcus.
Marcus caught it out of the air. He took a piece of knobby, palm-sized ginger from his toy bag and cut off one of the fingerlike parts. “This is ginger, Gabrielle, like what is used in Asian cooking.” He shaved off the brown coating and carved the long piece into the shape of an anal plug with a thick thumb-sized part, a narrower section, and a wide end to keep the plug in place.
When he held it up, Gabrielle inhaled sharply, obviously recognizing the shape.
Marcus smiled into her eyes. “The fun we’ll have tonight is called figging.”