Make Me, Sir
Page 43

He chuckled. “I do mean to say that in this case, come means crawl over here, not have an orgasm for me.” As laughter ran about the bar, he edged between two seated men, gave her a level look, and snapped his fingers. “Puppy, come.”
He meant for her to crawl. She stared at him and shook her head. No. Right this minute, her orders to act defiant merged completely with her inclination. No way. And since she sat on her bottom, no one would be…
Someone swatted her upper thigh hard enough to sting. “Ow!” She jerked around.
Master Dan had pushed between a couple of the men. “Growl, whine, whimper, or yelp,” he reminded her and slapped her thigh again, lighter this time.
Goddammit. She lifted her upper lip and snarled at him. I hate you, and if you hit me one more time, I’ll bite you.
Amusement lit in his brown eyes, and he grinned. She stared in shock. Stone Face was human?
“Go, sweetie,” he said softly and jerked his head.
Crawl. She gave a long, loud sigh and started down the bar. The anal plug sent little nerves pinging inside her, and the fluffy tail brushed against the back of her thighs with each movement.
Why did Master Z have such a big bar? Doms reached out and patted her butt. One raised his voice, a sound like a gravel truck on a bad day. “Puppy, lie down.”
She glanced over. Master Nolan. She hesitated. Marcus had said come. Only he’d disappeared. Her hesitation earned her a light swat on the rear and a firmer, “Lie down.”
She crouched, arms resting on the wood.
“That’s a good girl,” he said. He ran his hand down her bare back, her arm. “Don’t you agree, gentlemen?”
Other hands reached out, and she jerked as they touched her.
“Easy, Gabi,” his rough voice murmured, his hand wrapping around her arm, less to restrain her than to support her. Shaking inside, she stared at him, saw the way he studied her with dark, dark eyes, and she knew Marcus had explained the purpose for the puppy play. As a gray-haired dom patted her bottom and another stroked her ribs, she found her breathing had steadied. She wasn’t alone here.
Nolan gave her an approving smile and stepped away.
Down the bar, Master Raoul leaned forward. “Come, Puppy.”
She almost smiled. So Marcus had hedged his bet, planting the Masters both to help her and to demonstrate to the doms what he’d allow. Her heart lightened, and despite the way the ears flopped against her face and the weird tail brushed her thighs, she did a bouncy crawl down the bar to Raoul.
His teeth flashed white in the dark skin. “Pretty puppy. Sit.”
She planted her butt on her heels and jumped when it pushed the plug deeper. This was just too weird. Her heart still hammered from fear, her face burned from embarrassment, and yet she was wet between the legs. Aroused? God help me. She settled more carefully into position.
“Bueno,” Raoul said and ran his hand down her arm, glancing at the men next to him. “Pet the puppy and show her she’s a good girl,” he said.
Hands seemed to come from everywhere, stroking her bottom, her thighs, her back.
Then Raoul, with a firm grip on her arm, cupped her breast.
She jerked and whined.
“Shhh, Puppy,” he said, and his eyes held the same watchful intelligence as Nolan’s as he stroked her breasts, the calluses on his fingers scraping lightly over her nipples. The other men kept touching her. Too many hands.
She whimpered, her fingers clenching together, fear rising inside her like the tide.
“Gabi, look up,” Raoul said in a low voice.
When she turned to him, he tilted his head to the right.
Several feet farther down, Master Marcus stood at the bar. His eyes held blue fire, his gaze almost palpable, silently reassuring her that nothing horrible would happen.
He hadn’t left her. He’d keep her safe. She relaxed.
He smiled, and then his gaze ran over her, lingering on her breasts, her slightly open thighs, before returning to her face. The heat in his eyes seared her.
God, she wanted him.
He glanced at Raoul and nodded. As Raoul started stroking her breasts again, Marcus watched, his attention increasing her awareness of how Raoul’s broad fingers pinched her nipples, of someone tugging her tail, another massaging her bottom. Excitement rose inside her. Under his gaze, everything seemed to change as if each man’s hands were his…as if it was him touching her.
Raoul chuckled, pulling her attention to him. “That’s much better. Stand, Puppy.”
Her breasts swung, swollen and heavy, as she took the crawl stance. At the far end of the bar, Master Sam snapped his fingers. “Come here, Puppy.”
She set off down the bar. Halfway there, she felt a hard pinch on her thigh and yelped in surprise and pain.
Rhodes grinned at her nastily—and then Cullen grabbed the agent’s hand and slammed it onto the bar. “Since you can’t follow instructions, I suggest you step away from the bar,” Cullen growled. “Now.”
Rhodes scrambled away so fast he tripped on the bar stool and almost fell.
“Sorry, Pup.” Cullen leaned an arm on the bar and smiled at Gabi.
Giving him a grateful look, she licked his knuckles and wiggled her butt hard enough to make her tail swing.
His laughter should have shaken the bar. He pointed to the end of the bar. “Keep going, Pup. You don’t want to piss off Master Sam.”
Giggling, she headed down the bar, actually enjoying the little pats from the various doms, the murmured, “Pretty puppy.” “She’s adorable.” “Is Marcus letting her scene yet?”
Maybe this punishment wasn’t so bad after all.
When she reached Master Sam, he pointed to the bar. “Sit, Pup, and stay.”
She eyed him and had a thought. She needed to act up again, but Marcus said the Masters felt bad about punishing her. Master Sam was a sadist, so he’d do okay with it, right? Instead of sitting, she growled and bit his wrist. Very, very gently, but a definite bite. He gave a startled shout and yanked his hand away. “You little—” He caught himself and snapped, “Bad puppy.”
One look at his menacing expression and she decided only a complete idiot would bite a sadist. She scrambled past him as fast as her hands and knees could manage.
He grabbed her ankle, pulling her mercilessly back down the bar. She whined.
“Let’s try this again.” His growl came out a lot lower than hers as he yanked her to the edge of the bar. He put his right arm under her pelvis, holding her butt up, and gripped her thigh. She had a second to realize how he’d secured her, and then his hand hit her bottom. Hard.
She managed to change her scream into a yelp. Three brutal swats and her bottom burned with pain. One more and her eyes filled with tears.
He released her and snapped, “Now sit, dammit.”
She started to, until her tender ass cheeks touched her heels, and she almost didn’t. Very carefully she lowered her butt. Hopefully the bad guy had seen her wonderful defiance and punishment so it wouldn’t be wasted. That had really, really hurt.
He nodded, his eyes still icy. “No petting for you. You don’t deserve any.”
The doms around him made sounds of disappointment. Sam stared at her for a minute, then leaned forward and fisted her hair. She cringed when he bent forward, but he whispered in her ear, his voice a rasp, “It so happens that I only like hurting people who want the pain. I didn’t enjoy that, girl.”
When he let go, she saw the tense muscles in his cheeks. He’d meant it. Oh hell. Guilt stabbed deep inside her. Weren’t doms supposed to be tougher than this? She gave him an apologetic whine and pawed his hand with her furry mitten.
One corner of his mouth turned up, and his eyes lightened a little. “Off you go, pup, and behave.”
Holt called her down the bar next, and he simply gave her a command and kept her long enough for everyone to pet her. Then she went to an older dom with gray peppering his hair. Between them, she watched for Marcus. He moved from place to place, staying in front of her, staying within sight. And his smoldering gaze transformed each dom’s touch to something erotic. She grew increasingly wet. Aroused.
Dammit.
As she neared the end and veered around some glasses, she heard: “Li’ll puppy.” A baritone with a southern accent like warm sunshine. Marcus.
Standing at the end of the bar, he snapped his fingers. “Come here, Puppy,” he said.
Relief washed over her, followed by a wave of excitement. She crawled to him and whined, pawing at his arm with one mittened hand.
Cupping her face, he regarded her for a long moment. The pad of his thumb traced her lower lip. “Almost over, sugar,” he murmured for her ears only, “then you’ll get a break. Are you up to playing a brat in a threesome?”
She cringed. Strangers taking her. Two strangers. Her heart sank.
He must have seen, for the sun lines beside his eyes deepened. “With me, darlin’. And Raoul. You did request it.”
Oh my God. Marcus and Raoul? She inhaled sharply, need and uncertainly mingling inside her. Taking refuge in her act, she barked a couple of times. Then bit his hand.
His uncontrolled bellow of laughter sent chills all the way down her spine and had her lips curving up. Dammit. No smiling. I’m a brat. When he reached for her, she grabbed the sleeve of his suit in her teeth and shook her head, growling.