Make Me, Sir

Marcus took a hair comb from the bag, displayed the brown, furry ovals hanging from each side, and slid it into her hair. He adjusted it so the furry…ears…dangled against her cheeks.

She stared at him in horror—they actually planned to dress her up like a dog. A floppy-eared dog. Fury rolled through her. Spanking was one thing, this was… “You sorry-ass bastard, you are not going to do this!”

She heard laughter around her. Then Master Marcus yanked her off her feet and flattened her on the bar. Her bare stomach lay on the cool, polished wood, and her legs dangled over the side. He leaned against the backs of her thighs, immovable and heavy, and patted her bottom. “You might could be less sassy, sugar.”

Cullen tossed Marcus something, and she heard paper tear. “That’s a fine size,” Marcus said approvingly.

Oh no. Oh God. The last time he’d set her in this position—

“Raoul, if you would?” Marcus said.

“My pleasure.” Raoul’s hard hands pulled the cheeks of her bottom apart. Cold liquid dripped into the crack.

“Oh no, you don’t,” she yelled, struggling to pull away.

The weight on her legs increased. Something touched her anus. Marcus made a little circle around the rim with the slick lube, and nerves jolted awake and fired straight to her pussy. “Easy, sugar. Push back so it doesn’t hurt.”

“You bastard, I—”

A slap across her bottom silenced her. “I do believe you’re trying my patience, sugar.” Without mercy, Marcus slowly pushed the anal plug in. Bigger than before, burning as it stretched her, and she moaned and squirmed.

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t escape. And then, with the feel of Marcus’s body pinning her to the bar, his fingers warm between her ass checks, and his determined invasion of even her most private place, she surrendered completely. It was as if his use of that area reinforced his rights over her as effectively as putting a collar on her. As her will to fight disappeared, she looked over her shoulder at him. He was watching her intently. When her yielding gaze met his, his eyes fired with possessiveness.

For long moments, he held her transfixed until he finally looked away, breaking the spell.

She hauled in a shuddering breath, recalled to her surroundings. She realized she was wet between her legs from more than the lubricant, and her body craved, screamed for him to touch her there. To take her. In front of everyone? Oh God, was she insane? I’m on a bar. Exposed. How could this possibly turn her on? Unable to bear the humiliation, she started to struggle again.

Raoul’s hands tightened.

Then it was in; the pain stopped. She felt a slight tug at the plug that made her jerk. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Raoul holding a long fuzzy…tail.

The damn thing had a tail attached. I’m going to kill them. Kill them all.

“What do you think, Master Z?” Marcus asked politely, wiggling the plug, undoubtedly to watch her wiggle.

She did.

“She does make a pretty puppy, Master Marcus,” Z said, amusement clear in his smooth, deep voice. Damn you, Z.

“Yes, she does.” Marcus patted her bottom and ordered, “Open for me, Gabrielle.”

She didn’t want to, not here, but oh she wanted his hands on her. She spread her thighs and gasped as he set his hand against her pussy. “A nice wet start,” he murmured. “Let’s make this more fun for you.” He slid his fingers between her folds and over her clit, deliberately arousing her until her sex ached with need, until her mind emptied of anything except his touch.

He patted her bottom. “Now kneel for me.”

“On the bar?”

“On the bar.” He lifted and steadied her as she knelt on the polished wood. Her butt rested on her heels, and the plug shifted every time she did, keeping her nerves far too awake. Her pussy throbbed. As she stared at the grinning faces around the bar, the fake ears flapped against her cheeks.

“Lie down, puppy.” Marcus patted the wood.

She considered refusing, but God knew what he’d come up with next. And she had done enough bucking orders for the moment. She bent over, resting her forearms in front of her knees. She stared down at the wood of the bar. Cullen liked to polish it, she remembered, seeing her reflection in the glossy finish. And now they’d put her on top of it, naked. Humiliation seemed somehow worse than getting walloped. And it was lonely. Really lonely.

Marcus pulled her sideways to the edge of the bar until her shoulder rested against his. The warmth of his body hardly registered, dropping into the big well of unhappiness inside her. “Look at me, Gabrielle.”

She didn’t move.

With an exasperated sound, he turned toward her, setting his hands on each side of her face.

She looked up at his strong jaw, his unsmiling mouth, intent eyes.

“Li’ll sub.” He stroked her hair, tugged on one floppy ear. His voice dropped low. “Sweetheart, Galen and Vance wanted at least one punishment tonight that involves the other doms and keeps you front and center. This is what I came up with. I’d hoped a few insults from Raoul would get you riled up, but you only needed one.”

He’d set it up? “You want to humiliate me?”

“I chose the scene for several reasons, Gabi. For one, you’ll have the attention of pretty much the whole bar. For two…” His lips tightened, and his eyes darkened as if clouds had covered a summer sky. “None of us can bear to beat on you, Darlin’. Not hard enough to make it realistic.”

The knot in her stomach loosened slightly. “Oh.”

“The third reason…” He ran his knuckles gently over her cheek, and she felt the scrape of his scars and calluses. “You wanted to find out if you could handle more than one man touching you. Do you remember?”

“I…” At his house. She had wondered what might trigger a flashback. “I did, didn’t I?”

“In this way, I can watch and control what happens and also make it clear there’s nothing going on between us.”

Nothing between us. The words made her heart squeeze. She pushed the ragged sense of loss aside. Galen and Vance had said Marcus might have an occasional scene with her, but not every scene. He was just following orders. And trying to fullfill her wishes. “I see. Okay.” She hauled in a breath. “I can handle the embarrassment.”

“I’m beginning to think you can handle just about anything,” he murmured, and the respect in his voice almost undid her right then and there. “Your safe word is…?”

“Red.”

“You can use yellow if you’re getting a little overwhelmed and need a break but still want to continue.” A muscle in his jaw flexed. “You will use your safe words, Gabrielle, if it gets to be too much. No heroics.”

“Yes, Sir.” He cared. The warmth running through her wasn’t arousal this time.

“Good.” He brushed a kiss over her lips. “Kneel up.”

She straightened back into a normal kneeling position. He gave her a nod and a loud order. “Puppy. Stay.”

He left her sitting on top of the bar, a floppy-eared dog, and heat rose in her face as she realized she’d become the center of attention for the entire bar. But instead of derision, she heard approving murmurs, compliments on her breasts, her ass, how sexy she looked. Although the doms sounded amused, it was a friendly amusement, and the sting of humiliation disappeared.

As Marcus talked to Master Z, Master Cullen wandered closer, carrying the makings for a drink. The huge bartender set everything on the counter a few feet from her, gave her a wink, and started mixing the ingredients.

If she was a puppy, then he was a guard dog. Marcus left nothing to chance.

“Gentlemen.” Marcus raised his voice for the bar area, not loud enough to disturb the scenes around the perimeter of the room. “This Li’ll Irish setter puppy is in obedience school. She can growl, whine, whimper, or yelp. Nothing else.” His eyes met hers, checking that she understood.

She nodded.

“Her name is Gabi or Puppy, nothing else. Anyone using derogatory language to my puppy will be escorted from the bar.”

He wasn’t taking any chances with them saying her trigger words. The fact that he’d remembered, that he cared felt…good.

One of the doms close to her said sarcastically, “And will the fancy suit do the escorting if they don’t want to go?”

An older dom snorted. “Atherton uses the word escort loosely. The last time someone messed with a trainee, he threw the guy across the bar. Strolled over, waited for the idiot to stand up, punched his lights out, and dragged him by his jacket collar out of the place. Escorted him, my ass. Didn’t even wrinkle that fancy suit.” He took a sip of his beer and added, “Atherton is invariably polite, but nobody in their right mind fucks with his trainees.”

Marcus waited until the noise diminished. “She’s going to make a circle of the bar, showing off the commands she has learned. Since she’s a little slow, her only commands are: come, sit, lie, stand, and stay. Please pet her if she’s a good puppy; swat her hind end if she disobeys.”

Oh. My God. Surely he meant for her to walk around the bar…not crawl on it. Didn’t he?