Make Me, Sir
Page 19

When Nolan chuckled, she stiffened as if she’d forgotten his presence.
“I can’t use regular lubricant or it’ll block the effect. Can you lube her with her own juices?” Marcus asked, glancing at his hands. “If I get the oils near her pussy, she’s going to screech like a steam engine.”
Nolan snorted. “No shit. Guess I can help out this once, hot stuff.” The dom pushed her legs apart and slid his fingers over her pussy. He chuckled. “She’s nicely wet, Marcus.” Ignoring her muffled yells, Nolan lubed up her asshole.
Cheeks pink with outrage, Gabrielle glared as Marcus picked up the ginger. He nodded at Nolan. “Best you try to relax yourself, Gabrielle.”
As Nolan held her buttocks apart, Marcus slowly pushed the knob into her ass. Her tight ring of muscle fought against the intrusion—just as it would offer up a token protest against a cock before closing like a vise around the base. He hardened at the thought.
The ginger slipped into place, and she moaned.
“There you go, sugar. Now you’ll learn what hot stuff really means. I do want you to know ginger doesn’t cause any harm at all…no matter what it feels like.”
Leaning an arm on the bar, he kissed Gabrielle’s cheek and her forehead. “Such a pretty face to glare so much. Wouldn’t you rather be polite and not have to be unhappy all the time?”
His blue gaze was soft, his resonant voice almost a croon, and Gabi had to close her eyes to keep him from seeing just how devastating his question was. I would. I hate when you’re mad at me.
“Ah, Darlin’,” he said gently, “we’ll get there. It’ll happen.”
She kept her eyes closed until she heard him move away. He’d gone behind the bar to wash his hands, leaving the heartless dom still leaning against her legs. She could hear the laughter and conversations about her, and her cheeks flushed. She’d done well in attracting attention, hadn’t she?
When Marcus came back, Nolan stepped away and asked in his gravelly voice, “If you don’t need any more help, I’m going to round up my sub.”
“I appreciate your assistance,” Marcus said.
“My pleasure.” Nolan gave Gabi’s bottom a light, stinging slap, and she gritted her teeth on the gag to keep from yelping. “Would you like her caned tonight? I’m getting out of practice.”
Gabi tensed. Say no, say no.
“Hmm.” Marcus grazed his fingers over the stinging area. “If she doesn’t learn some manners soon, I believe she might benefit from your expertise.”
As Nolan headed away, Marcus gripped Gabi around the waist. With an easy swing, he set her on her feet. As the thing in her butt shifted, she shivered and wiggled, trying to get more comfortable.
“I hoped you’d leave her up there,” the bartender said, leaning on one hefty arm and looking at her appreciatively. “I haven’t had a pretty bar ornament in a while.”
“Not this time.” Marcus ran his warm hands up and down her arms. His eyes held laughter as he smiled at her. “I don’t think she’s going to be holding still without some help.”
Cullen frowned. “What did you want the knife for anyway?”
“Ginger root. She called me „hot stuff."”
The giant dom stared at Marcus for a second, then roared with laughter.
What’s so funny?
Marcus removed her cuffs and her yellow vinyl top, and finally her gag.
Thank you, God. She rubbed her cheeks and swallowed, trying to eradicate the taste of the gag. A gag, anal plug, bar top. Oh man. She’d expected a spanking, maybe even a whipping. Not this kind of thing. As Marcus put the restraints into his bag, she realized everyone still watched her, probably hoping for another show. Damn them anyway.
She scowled at Marcus and Cullen. It didn’t take any effort to want to annoy them. A bar ornament, my ass. “So am I supposed to wait tables with this thing up my butt?”
Elbow on the bar, Cullen propped his chin in his hand and watched her as if she were an amusing bug.
“No, Gabrielle,” Marcus said in a level voice. “You are going to sit with me and practice self-control. Don’t make me regret removing your gag.”
“You bet, hot stuff.” She pursed her lips in a kiss, hearing the people around the bar laugh.
His expression didn’t change. As he studied her with those blue, blue eyes, she felt herself flush and something quiver inside her, a mingling of shame and desire. Unable to meet his eyes anymore, she dropped her gaze.
“C'mere, sugar,” he said softly. He sat down, back to the bar, and lifted her onto his lap.
When her weight landed on the thing in her butt, she winced, and her temper shifted as well—with good reason. After all, some asshole had shoved something in her asshole.
His calloused fingers curled around hers, and he positioned her hands palm down on her bare thighs. “I want your hands to stay just like that.”
“Fine,” she muttered, then growled as he forced her knees apart and draped her legs on the outside of his, spreading her open. No. I am not going to sit here with my pussy wide open for everyone walking past to stare at. This is too much. Without saying a word, she tried to slide off his lap.
He chuckled. “I don’t think so.” He cupped one hand over her left breast, and his other over her mound, holding her in place.
She stilled, her heart rate increasing at the thrill of his strong hands on her most vulnerable areas. His palm, hard and calloused, pressed against her bare labia. She quivered in his grasp as he fondled her breasts, rolling her nipples until need clawed through her.
“Nicely quiet. I like that, Gabrielle,” he murmured into her ear, his breath warm against her cheek. “Say, „Thank you, Sir, for providing me with a seat."”
Her hesitation earned her a quick pinch on her nipple, and the tiny pain streamed like a lightning bolt to her pussy. How could she possibly find this exciting? But his fingers rested on each side of her clit, and if he started touching her there, she’d have a climax on a damned bar stool. She breathed through her nose until the heat passed. “Thank you, Sir, for providing me with a seat.”
“Very nice.” Despite the fact he’d forced her to comply, his voice was warm with approval, the approval that she’d discovered she really, really wanted.
She tried to think of something atrocious to do next, and suddenly the hand between her legs started to move. He touched her wet, wet labia, making another approving sound. “Do you realize how your body betrays you, Gabrielle?” he said in her ear as his finger circled her entrance. “You make all these defiant noises, but your body says, „Take me. Please."”
He rubbed her clit, and then moved his legs farther apart, spreading her even more. “I do like having you open so I can play with you as I please,” he murmured, his sexy drawl thicker than normal.
Over by a sitting area, two trainees frowned at her. In the locker room, they’d complained about how much time Marcus had to spend with her because of her behavior.
Other members wandered past, staring and laughing at the naked sub getting tormented on her dom’s lap, and she flushed. Don’t pay attention to what Marcus is doing. Watch for the kidnapper.
But he kept teasing her with erratic touches, and her focus started to erode. He knew just how to touch her, dammit. Arousal and embarrassment coursed through her, and her fingernails dug into her thighs as she tried to stay still. As her clit swelled, she became aware of the thing in her butt. It had…warmed. That didn’t make sense. She’d seen him cut it up; it didn’t have any batteries or wires; it was just a root of ginger. Sure ginger was a spice, but a fairly mild one. Wasn’t it?
It heated more, and she squirmed, realizing he’d placed her so her buttocks rested solidly on his lap with no way to get the thing out. Her anus started to burn—like the plug was flaming inside her. It needed to come out. Now. She struggled to get off his lap.
He tightened his grip on her breast, his palm flattened on her pussy, holding her in place. “Stay put, Gabrielle. You do not have permission to move,” he said, but the ice in his voice was no match for the fire in her bottom.
“It burns.” She pushed at his arms, but he had a hell of a grip for a lawyer. She didn’t care if she got in trouble. It felt as if someone had stuck a burning stick up her bottom. “There’s something wrong. That thing—”
“Does it feel like hot stuff?” From the amusement in his voice, he’d known exactly what would happen. Her gasp of outrage made him laugh, and she wanted to scream at him. It was burning her.
“Please, please, take it out.” Her body broke out in a sweat as the fire increased.
“No.” Ignoring her struggles, he played with her, rolling her left nipple, then the right between his calloused fingers, slowly, each time increasing the pressure to the edge of pain. Her breasts felt full. Heavy. Her nipples throbbed. And then he moved the hand over her pussy, sliding a lean finger into her wetness and up and around her clit. In and around. Her clit swelled as if imitating her breasts, each tortuous circle waking her to a frightening need.
“Don’t. I don’t want this.” She grabbed his wrist and tried to push his hand away from her pussy.