Make Me, Sir

“Put your hand back on your thigh, Gabrielle.” The steel in his voice cut through her resistance. A tremor shook her deep inside as she obeyed.

“That’s the way,” he murmured. “You will stay in place whatever I do, whatever I take from you.”

Her spine seemed to melt into his chest as if his removal of her choices had taken her with it.

“Such a pretty little sub,” he whispered. He kissed her hot cheek. “Just stay quiet as I play.”

She somehow held still as he teased her clit, ever so slowly, arousing her pussy to a different fire, one that vied with the burning pain in her bottom. When he pinched her nipples, pain and pleasure seemed to zing like electricity between her bottom and her pussy and her breasts, drawing her closer and closer to coming. She moaned, drowning in sensation.

He ruthlessly brought her right to the brink, until she couldn’t remain quiet, until she squirmed uncontrollably against his hold, needing to come so badly that she whimpered. She burned…everywhere. Each merciless stroke shoved her closer until the world receded to only the feeling of his hands and the fire of the ginger.

Every time she got close to the edge, he lightened his touch, keeping her on a throbbing, burning precipice.

Marcus nuzzled the cheek of the little sub squirming in his lap. She hovered right at the peak of both pain and pleasure, and one firm touch would send her screaming over the edge. Her breathy whimpers were a joy to listen to, as was her inability to put two words together into one of her insults. Master Z walked by, studied her for a second, and nodded at Marcus.

That had been a very unreadable expression from the club owner, Marcus thought. Almost concerned…pitying. Putting the thought aside, he returned his attention to his sub. Her responses delighted him. He might have to force her to let down her defenses, but once gone, she openly gave him everything. He nibbled on the lovely curve between her neck and shoulder to add to her sensations, and another low groan broke from her.

“Beg me, Gabrielle,” he said, making it an order. “Beg me to let you come.”

Ah now, he’d obviously pushed too far, for she tried to growl her defiance.

“You’ll give it all, sugar,” he whispered and slid his finger up her engorged clit, too lightly to get her off but hard enough to increase the quivering of her thighs. The scent of her arousal blended with the light fragrance of her skin and hair. “Beg me.”

Her lips tightened, and he laughed. Stubborn little sub. So honest in her defiance. How long since he’d had such a challenge? He set his hands on the outside of her bottom and pushed her ass cheeks together. Pressure on the ginger root would increase the burn.

She stiffened and gave a husky moan. “Please. Oh, God, please, Marcus.”

Almost. “Who?”

“Sir. Pleeeease.”

“All right. You were polite, Gabrielle, so I will reward you,” he murmured. He swirled a finger in her juices, then started high over her clit, up past the hood, and worked his way down in tiny slick rubs. Her entire body stiffened as he came closer to the goal. Finally he reached the sweet, swollen nub and slid over it once.

Her back arched; her head thumped into his shoulder as she screamed, a satisfying, high sound that made him even harder than before. He gritted his teeth. If he had her soft, little ass squirming on top of his cock much longer, he’d bend her over the bar stool and take her.

He tightened the arm he’d put around her waist to keep her in place and circled her clit a few more times to draw out the afterwaves. A few seconds of that and she sagged against him like a balloon that had lost its air. Little shivers shook her body at intervals.

To please himself, he moved his hand up to cup a soft, swollen breast. He kissed her moist cheek. “Say thank you, Gabrielle.”

Her eyes were half-lidded. Her lips curved slightly. Absolutely beautiful. “Thank you.”

He turned her and took her mouth. She yielded completely, wonderfully.

Eventually he drew back, despite his roaring need to take more. Her wet lips were swollen and red from his kiss. She’d closed her eyes, and her thick red-gold lashes clashed endearingly with her pink cheeks.

Lesson. This is a lesson, Atherton. Recalling his mind to the task, he brushed his cheek over hers. “I do enjoy giving pleasure to polite submissives, sugar.” He left the second part unstated—that rudeness would receive pain.

Her eyes lifted and met his. The vulnerable look pulled at his heart. Then he watched as, like a prison guard, she locked her emotions away.

* * *

The bitch was running late. Cesar Maganti glanced at his watch: 1:30 a.m. In the shadows beside his target’s apartment building, he leaned against the wall. Sweat trickled slowly down his back. His overalls, showing him as an appliance company employee, felt like an overcoat in the humid night.

Not long ago, Jang had reported that Candi’d left the downtown BDSM club, so she should arrive any time now. With luck, he’d have her boxed, called in, and ready for pickup the minute the docks opened in the morning. She’d be the second woman of the four ordered.

He watched as a car entered the parking lot. A red Jeep—nope. A drunken couple got out and staggered into a ground-floor apartment. He doubted they’d seen anything but each other. Weekend nights were definitely the safest time to snatch someone. Two years ago, when the Overseer had e-mailed him a how-to-kidnap guide, he’d laughed his ass off. But the bastard's suggestions had been dead-on.

The Overseer. Fancy name for a fucking pimp. But the patronizing asshole paid good money for each batch of girls. Last time the profit on the order had kept his PI agency afloat. This year it’d pay off his gambling debts and keep him from ending up in the Gulf as an example.

This girlie and then two more and home free.

And there she was. C’mere, chickie. She parked and locked her battered, white compact sedan, then walked toward the stairs on the end of the building. Healthy women—the types he kidnapped—rarely used the elevators. He checked the area. A car headed out on the far side of the lot, its lights dancing over the shrubbery. All clear.

Maganti smiled as the brunette approached. Nice rack. When she reached the stairs, he stepped out of the shadows. “Hey, Candi,” he said, grinning. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

He’d used her name deliberately. Instead of screaming and running, she hesitated. With an alcohol-sogged brain, she took a moment to realize she didn’t know him. Her eyes widened and—

He nailed her with the Taser.

She dropped in a nice heap. After yanking the prongs from her stomach, he gave her a tranq injection to keep her out for a couple of hours at least. Long enough to get to the docks, pass her off to the guys doing the pickup, and get his money.

Maganti fetched the heavy washing machine box from behind the building, hefted her in, and sealed the top. Using a hand trolley, he rolled the box to his cargo van and up the ramp. After closing the door, he dumped her out and cuffed her wrists and ankles. No point in growing careless. As he drove out of the parking lot, he knew what anyone watching would see—an appliance truck leaving after making a delivery. Another idea off the Overseer's list. No one questioned repair guys. Had an emergency call, ma’am. The machine flooded the laundry room.

Once out on the road, he tossed his clear-lensed glasses onto the passenger seat and removed the baseball cap.

Two little birdies left to go. Whistling a tune, he thought about the woman cuffed in the back of the van. Long hair. Nice ass. Big tits. He hardened. If he hurried, he and Jang could have some fun with her before the boat arrived.

Chapter Eight

Later that evening, Marcus wandered through the club, checking on his trainees. Two of the newer doms had requested Sally. Marcus had hoped two doms might intimidate her a tad, but she was topping from the bottom as always, telling them what to do, what they messed up. Damn.

A young dom-sub couple had Tanner for a flogging scene, and the young man not only looked fit to burst but grinned between each stroke. Having already done scenes, Dara, Austin, and Uzuri now served drinks. Dara's session had lasted awhile, and Marcus smiled at the pink stripes running up the back of her thighs.

He headed toward the stocks to check on Gabrielle. Marcus had wanted to see how she handled a new dom and mild erotic pain, so he’d agreed to let Holt, a dom in his late twenties, switch her.

After that, he might nab one of the free subs for a playtime of his own. The battle with Gabrielle earlier and her climax under his hands had left him hard as a rock—but fucking her during this constant defiance stage of hers wouldn’t be wise.

At the stocks, the blond dom wore a black jacket and leather pants. After her introduction to Holt, Gabrielle had eyed his biker jacket, which apparently matched her conception of a dom’s proper attire, and smirked at Marcus. Marcus chuckled. She might drive him crazy, but the little redhead certainly didn’t bore him.

He chose a seat at an angle to the play area. Holt had secured her well, with her head and hands restrained in the wooden bar and her yellow hot pants pulled down to bare her ass.

The little sub was quite a colorful sight. Pale, pale skin. A yellow top that barely contained her pretty breasts. The three yellow earrings in her right ear matched her clothing, two blue ones in the left to match her dyed locks, and a curling vine tattoo on her arm duplicated the colors. In the brighter light of the scene area, her hair glinted in a myriad of reds and golds—and blue. Odd how he’d only thought her pretty at first, but she truly was a lovely sub.