Coffee table? When Gabi tried to pull away, Master Marcus slid her legs right out from under her so quickly she"d have belly flopped if he hadn"t caught her.
“Hands and knees, please, Gabrielle,” he said and set her on the floor.
This was…just wrong. Avoiding the legs beside her, she sidled around far enough her butt was toward the wall at least.
He sighed and picked her up, setting her back down with her ass toward the center of the room, then shoved a foot between her knees, forcing her legs apart.
Exposing her more fully. “You stay right there now.”
“Thanks a lot, boss,” she snapped.
Stinging pain slashed across her bottom, and she yelped.
“Silence, sub,” the old guy said, motioning with the switch he held. A switch.
Hell, no wonder it"d hurt. His pale blue eyes examined her without any compassion at all. “I dislike noisy coffee tables.”
Marcus ran his hand over the burning spot. When she winced, he chuckled.
“Gabrielle, you will serve as a coffee table until I return. I would recommend you hold very still—anyone whose drink you spill can have a blowjob from you.”
A blowjob? She stared up at him in disbelief, a solid knot forming in her stomach. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to be here.
He paused, and his voice took on a deeper, cutting edge. “Am I clear?”
She really, really didn"t have the guts to challenge him—not when he used that tone. Tears blurred her vision. “Y-yes, Sir.”
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He bent and stroked his hand over her hair. “Much better. I"m sorry you won"t find this a comfortable time, sugar.” The sympathy in his voice made her want to lean into him. To beg him not to leave her.
But he did. He walked away. She dropped her head, not willing to look at anything or anyone. Naked, on hands and knees, her butt exposed. A second later, the old man set his beer on her back. The cold, damp bottle made her jump, and thank God, he"d kept hold of the drink or she"d have knocked it right off. The younger man put his can of beer on her too. They must keep the refrigerator here at subzero temperatures, she thought as goose bumps rose on her skin.
She stayed in place, not moving a muscle, and realized after a few minutes that having her legs spread helped her balance. Not that she"d ever forgive Mr.
Perfect anyway.
The two men talked, arguing over Tampa"s baseball team, over a recent suicide off the Skyway Bridge, over Master Z"s mouthy sub and her latest infraction. They picked their drinks up, set them down, paying as much attention to her as if she really were a coffee table.
Then she realized Master Sam had set his drink right on the edge of her shoulder blade. Feeling the bottle teeter, she stopped breathing. It settled. Tiny little breaths. Don’t move.
“I do think she makes a fine piece of furniture.” Marcus"s voice came from behind her, and she startled, just a tiny bit, caught herself…and the bottle tipped.
The glass hit her back, and cold beer drizzled off her ribs and downward to pool at the base of her spine. Horror ran through her, and her fingernails dug into the hardwood floor. No no no. At least the other man had already picked his can up or she"d have spilled them both. She pushed herself up to a kneeling position, and the cold beer trickled down between her butt cheeks, making her anus pucker.
“Hell, I hadn"t finished yet,” came the gruff tones of the older man.
“Truly a shame.” Marcus shook his head at her. “Well, she"ll do better next time, I assume.”
This isn’t fair. You guys set me up, you bastards. Gabrielle saw the older guy unfasten his leather pants, and she closed her eyes. Oh no. They wouldn’t…
“She any good at this?” Sam asked Marcus.
“First night here. I don"t know,” Marcus said. “Do you prefer me to direct her, or will you?”
I don’t need any stinking directions. But she sure wouldn"t smart off to Marcus right now—giving a stranger a blowjob was bad enough. I don’t want to do this.
“Feel free.” Sam sheathed himself with a condom, glanced at her. “I prefer being covered. Get up here, girl.” He leaned back and closed his eyes, his cock rising from his leathers like a flagpole.
She blinked up at Marcus, wanting to break down and beg.
He simply waved his hand toward Sam in a “get on with it” motion.
22
Cherise Sinclair
She crawled over and knelt between Sam"s legs. Biting it off would probably come across as a little too defiant. Satisfying…but stupid. Her heart pounded, and her hands had gone clammy. She combed her hair back. I’ve done oral sex before. I’m actually pretty fair at it. After wetting her lips, she took a firm hold and started to put his cock into her mouth.
“Slower, sugar,” Marcus murmured.
She glanced over her shoulder.
He"d taken the empty armchair next to Sam. Leaning back, he crossed his legs at the ankles, as if he"d settled in for a Sunday football game. “Lick him like an ice cream cone. Tease him a smidgeon before you get down to business.”
Tease him? She"d planned to get him off as quickly as possible. But from the implacable set of Marcus"s jaw, the dom figured to draw this out. Or maybe he considered it part of instructing a trainee. Her heart sank—she had told him she wanted to jump right in. With a silent sigh, she licked up Master Sam"s cock.
He"d used an orange-flavored condom. A giggle escaped her. He opened his pale blue eyes and winked before closing them again.
After that, somehow, it wasn"t difficult to do a good job. Marcus supervised the entire time, murmuring soft instructions. “Circle the tip.” “Suck hard.” “Massage his balls with one hand.” “Grip the base tightly.”
She hadn"t felt excited about doing this, but somehow having Marcus watch set her pulse racing. Her breasts tingled where they rubbed against Sam"s pants, and she flushed. How could she get excited by this…this humiliation?
Her mouth had started to tire when Sam stiffened and came.
“Very nicely done, sugar,” Marcus said. “Don"t stop yet. Ease him down gently.”
When Sam"s cock softened, Marcus pointed to a small stand discretely camouflaged by the ferns in the planter. “Fetch some wipes. Clean him up and dispose of the condom.” She started to rise, and he added, “Your response is what?”
“Yes, Sir,” she snapped before thinking. She came to attention, saluted, and included a glare for good measure.
As she stalked away, she heard Sam"s gravelly voice. “You"re going to have a fun time with this one, Marcus.”
Probably just as well she didn"t hear Marcus"s reply. When she"d finished cleaning Master Sam, he ruffled her hair. “Good job, girl.” After tucking himself back into his faded leathers, he rose and headed for the bar.
Gabrielle hesitated. What now?
Before she could stand, Marcus leaned forward, grasped her around the waist, and pulled her between his knees, her back to him. With firm hands, he adjusted her position until she knelt, bare bottom resting on her heels, knees widely spread, and her palms on her thighs. As his hands covered hers, she saw white scars and thickened skin over his knuckles. A lawyer that got in fights?
Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir
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Leaning forward, he squeezed her shoulders, and his cheek brushed against her hair as he spoke softly in her ear. “When I say kneel, this is the posture I wish you to take. Concentrate on getting here quickly for now. We"ll work on gracefulness later.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, not wanting to fight. His legs enclosing her felt…good, as did his warm hands on her chilled skin and his cheek against her ear. Safe. And maybe he even liked her a little bit.
He reached around her to caress her breast. She bit her lip, wanting to push into his touch, and that just didn"t make any sense. Why did it feel as if he had the right to fondle her? With anyone else, she"d feel as if she were being groped.
When he slipped his other hand between her open legs, she stiffened. He simply continued, sliding his fingers in her wetness, and pleasure flooded her senses.
“Well, sugar,” he whispered, one finger tracing circles around her clit. “You might act like you didn"t enjoy making Sam happy, but you seem a tad aroused.
Might that be true?”
A mortified flush scalded her cheeks. True, she hadn"t wanted to start, but sucking on Sam"s cock, hearing Marcus"s firm instructions—and imagining his cock instead—had sizzled her veins.
“Answer me, sugar.” He pinched her nipple, a small admonishment, and dammit, she was hot enough the tiny pain sent a shot of electricity straight to her pussy. It sure didn"t help her focus that his finger kept sliding up and over her clit.
“You know it"s true,” she said sullenly.
The lack of a Sir earned her another pinch, on her clit this time, and she yelped. “Sir. Yes, Sir.”
“Gabrielle, you seem to have difficulty following the rules. Are you sure you want to be here? I do think a trainee position is demanding too much of you.”
“I can handle it.” Maybe. However, physical punishment might be easier than him turning her on as easily as if he"d flipped a switch. And her emotions were…off.
She wanted to stay right here with his arms around her. But that wasn"t the job.
Decoy. I’m a decoy.
“You are a stubborn little thing.” He released her. “Stand on up now.”
Already missing the safety and the warmth of his embrace, she rose to her feet. Off to one side, a group of both submissives and doms were observing and laughing. She"d acquired an audience. Time for bratty sub to emerge.
But…oh God, she didn"t want another one of his punishments. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling cold. Alone. Wanting him to hold her again. Stupid her, for wishing he"d like her.
Stupid her for thinking about anything but the task at hand.
24
Cherise Sinclair
As Marcus stood, Gabi motioned to the audience and said loudly, “Everyone else in this place has on clothes. This isn"t fair, S—” She barely kept herself from saying Sir. What the hell was wrong with her?
His mouth thinned. “Well now, I reckon we can find you something to wear.”
As she stared at him in surprise— he’d caved in?—he led her back to the bar.
The giant bartender wandered over. “What can I get you, Marcus?”
“I do believe I could use some thick nylon rope and upper decorations, paper and a marker.”
The bartender rummaged under the bar. As he set out a coil of rope and the rest of Marcus"s requests, he shook his head at her. “Have you been a bad sub, pet?”
“He"s just being pissy,” she said and got a snort of laughter from the bartender.
She frowned at the items on the bar. Rope? “But…but I wanted clothes…”
“You want to be here? Then show me.” Master Marcus"s cold voice shriveled her willpower to nothing.
Under his pitiless blue gaze, she couldn"t find…anything…to say. Staring up at him, she realized that despite Z"s assurance that Marcus would keep her for a month, this dom might refuse to work with her. And he was the only trainer. “I do want to be here.”
The corner of his mouth turned up, as if he saw her uncertainty. “Then wear your…clothing…politely for the remainder of the night.” Marcus wound the rope around her, his sure hands twining it under and between her breasts, pulling it until the pressure caused her breasts to stick out and the skin to tauten.
It felt…strange. Snug as if the ropes held her in an embrace. And as he touched her, as his intent eyes studied her, she tingled and her nipples bunched into little points.
Once finished, he nodded in satisfaction and opened the small plastic envelope on the bar top. Two beaded pieces of jewelry fell into his hand.
She frowned, recognizing them a second before he bent and put his mouth over her left nipple. He set a hand behind her butt and prevented her from stepping back. Oh my God.
He sucked forcefully, his tongue swirling around the crest. As her breast swelled, the ropes seemed to compress even more, and the feeling of his mouth…pulling…sent pleasure spiraling to her pussy. He straightened and rubbed her nipple, keeping it erect as the skin dried. By the time he stopped, she was ready to moan.
Until he put a clamp on the very swollen, sensitive peak.
She squeaked, tried to grab her breast to yank the damned thing off, and he caught her hands.
“It"ll settle in a minute, but as contrary as you are, I got a notion you won"t leave these in place,” he said, his eyes on her face. “Let"s just remove the temptation.” He forced her hands behind her back, and one snick later, he"d locked Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir
25
her handcuffs together. And oh, God, the position squeezed the clamp until it felt like fingernails were biting into her nipple.
Under the feel of the cuffs, the control he took over her, she couldn"t hold back her whine. “Please, Sir.”
His head tilted and he studied her. “Please release you? Or give you more?”
The accuracy of his question stabbed right through her. The clamp hurt and yet… More. I want more. Push me, control me… “Release.”
He didn"t free her, neither from the restraints, nor his gaze for a long, long minute. “No. You"re not being truthful with me…and you"ve also proven you have no discipline whatsoever.” He bent and sucked on her other breast, squeezing the areola between his teeth. Fire shot down into her pussy. Again he teased her with his fingers until her nipple dried.
The second clamp went on, and she hissed at the stinging, burning pain. She twisted and yanked on her cuffs to get free. “Dammit!”
He studied her face. “You have a safe word, Gabrielle. You could use it about now.”
He"d like that, wouldn"t he? “No,” she gritted out.
His eyes hardened, and he tugged on one clamp. “No, what?”
“No, Sir.” Damn you to hell and back. She glared at him.
“I can smell your arousal, sugar,” he said softly. “Do not continue to sass me, or I will bend you over a bar stool and take you right now so everyone else can see how excited you are.”
She took a step back. He wouldn’t.
But from the unyielding look in his eyes, she knew he would. And the image, the thought of how it would feel to be taken here by him made liquid pool in her lower half. How could this merciless lawyer be the first man to excite her in…forever?
Even knowing she should keep poking at him, she bit her lip and kept silent. I really, really don’t want to play the brat anymore. Besides, she had the people around the bar avidly watching, so maybe she"d done enough for now. She"d definitely annoyed Mr. Lawyer, after all.
He wrote on the paper and tucked it under the rope. She tried to see, but her breasts blocked her view of the writing.
“You don"t have to serve drinks any longer tonight. Go and walk ten laps around the bar. Since you appear to enjoy attention, you can let the doms admire your…clothing.”
He waited. With a sigh, he tugged on a clamp strongly enough her response broke right out of her. “Yes, Sir!”
“Take yourself off then.”
26
Cherise Sinclair
Agent Rhodes was sitting off to one side, sipping his drink and watching. As Dickhead"s gaze traveled over her roped and clamped breasts and his mouth twisted into a sneer, she felt cheap. Dirty.
She firmed her lips and continued on, trudging toward the back of the bar, wishing she could leave. But she couldn"t. This is for you, Kim. And when you’re home, we’ll go out and laugh about what I did to get you back. We will.
She glanced over her shoulder and realized Master Marcus hadn"t moved. As he talked with Cullen and another dom, he watched her as if wondering what she"d do next. Yet his expression didn"t make her feel dirty—just powerless, which somehow melted her insides.
A second later, a young dom stepped into her path. “Cool jewelry,” he said.
“Leave me alone.” She tried to detour around him.
“You"re a rude one.” He grasped one dangling nipple clamp in one hand, using it like a painful leash as he cupped her other breast.
Owwww. Hands clenched, she held still, knowing Marcus watched. Had given permission. Somehow that made this stranger"s touch feel right, even disconcertingly exciting. The dom fondled her breasts until they burned, and let her go.
Two more doms did the same. What had Marcus written on the paper?
It didn"t stop. Her snapping and insults simply resulted in the clamps getting tugged until her breasts cried for relief. She tried walking faster, but doms still slipped off the bar stools to stop her. Two laps. Three. And all the time she walked, she felt Master Marcus studying her.
Eight laps…
Ten laps. Oh thank God, she"d made her ten. She looked around. With the club almost empty, she didn"t need to play decoy any longer. Her night was over, and she wanted to go home so badly she shook like an addict needing a fix.
Marcus still sat on the bar stool, sipping a drink, his face unreadable.
She stopped in front of him, saw no one stood close enough to hear. “Please, Sir. Can I get these off? May I go home now?” If he said no, she"d probably cry.
The fine lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Sugar, since you asked so prettily, I"m happy to do that little favor for you.”
She"d expected him to free her wrists first. Instead he pinned her between his knees. He set one hand on her left clamp and said, “Brace yourself, sweetheart.”
“What?”
He removed the clamp.
“Aaaaah!” She couldn"t keep the wail from escaping as blood rushed into her abused nipple. Locked securely behind her back, her arms jerked futilely. Her breast burned as if he"d covered it with acid.
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