Master Z could easily hire waiters, but serving drinks means you meet the doms without the pressure of finding something to say. Make sense, sugar?”
He paused. Unfortunately she wasn"t here to meet doms, except for one kidnapper. “Yes, Sir.”
“Then off you go.”
Midway through the night, Gabi"s skin had started feeling too small for her body. Serving drinks should have bored her. But the doms flirted with her. Touched her in a way that would get them tossed out of a normal bar, often caressing the bare strip of skin between her vest and skirt. One even wrapped a big hand around 34
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her thigh as he talked to her. Always polite, yet making it clear they might someday ask permission for her…company.
As she wandered across the Shadowlands with another set of drinks, the music from the corner dance area throbbed against her with an almost sexual rhythm, punctuated by shrieks and moans from the scenes around the room"s perimeter. A lot of the screams came from where Master Sam of the orange-flavored condom was whipping a submissive at the chain station. His nasty-looking, short black whip left long red marks on the woman"s tanned skin.
Gabi edged closer and cringed at how each pause between strokes seemed calculated to cause the most pain.
The sub screamed again, the sound higher than before. Sam stopped and talked to her, stroked her hair, and checked the chains and cuffs holding her arms over her head. When the sub mumbled something and smiled, Sam chuckled, kissed her lightly, walked back to his place…and resumed.
Resumed. God, it was terrifying to watch. I so don’t like pain. Yet the bond between Master Sam and his sub grew as he continued until it was almost visible.
He focused on her response to each blow so thoroughly the building could have fallen down without him noticing. That kind of attention was…compelling. Exciting.
Nonetheless, each crack of the whip made her flinch. No whippings for me, thank you very much. In fact, she really, really hoped to play the brat without getting any painful punishments.
At the bar, Master Cullen took her tray, a smile on his craggy face. “You"ve done well, pet, and your serving duties are over. You"re to join Master Marcus now.”
“Oh. Okay.” She saw his raised eyebrows and amended, “Yes, Sir.” Join Marcus. As she remembered her dream from last night and where Marcus"s hands…and mouth…had been, heat ran through her. She licked her lips. What would he do today? Would he play with her in a scene? Her insides melted like ice cream on a summer afternoon.
A second later, the excitement faded away, leaving her cold inside. She wasn"t here to have fun. On the contrary, she was here to get noticed…somehow…and she hadn"t succeeded very well so far. Although she"d sassed the members, a bratty waitress didn"t get much notice. She needed to be obnoxious in a dom-sub scene, which meant she"d have to defy Marcus. She pressed a hand over the nauseating knot forming in her stomach.
The huge bartender leaned a thick forearm on the bar top. “Little sub, you look worried about something. Is your problem with Master Marcus?”
“No, Sir.” But I’m going to be his problem shortly. “Not at all.”
Master Cullen studied her face for a second. “Then talk to him about it, love.
That"s what he"s here for.”
“Yes, Sir.” She hurried away, unable to insult him after his concern for her.
Only she should have been rude anyway. Get over being a nice person, Gabi.
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As she searched the room for Marcus, she stayed alert for anyone who acted too interested in her—although the kidnapper probably didn"t wear a sign saying BAD GUY, and as a new trainee, she attracted attention from everyone.
She eventually found Marcus watching a scene at the stocks. A male submissive was bent forward with his hands and head secured. His domme wore a strap-on cock and thrust it into his ass as vigorously as any man Gabi had ever seen. Gabi gulped and took a step back. That looked just strange. Fascinating but strange.
Although the sub"s moans sounded as if he were dying, his eyes glowed bright with excitement, and his jutting cock seemed ready to burst. “Please, Mistress,” he begged. “Please let me come.”
Poor guy.
Gabi turned her attention to Marcus. He stood so relaxed, yet had an aura of owning the space around him. Somehow he never seemed off balance, and she never seemed to find hers. With a sigh, she joined him.
He smiled down at her and ran a finger along her jawline, sending every nerve into “gimme more” entreaties. “You"re doing well, sugar. Although I hear you"re a tad sassy, the members think you"re a wonderful addition to the trainees.”
Great, how was she supposed to be a hard-ass when that ass wanted to melt right into a puddle? “Thank you, Sir.” Then the meaning of what he"d said registered—all her work and they only considered her sassy? Not disobedient? Not disrespectful? Hell.
“Now rest here a spell and give me your impressions of the scenes you witnessed this evening.”
“Um. Okay.” She nodded to the strap-on scene. “I can see he"s enjoying himself, but a guy begging doesn"t do anything for me.”
A corner of Marcus"s mouth tipped up. “No,” he murmured, “I reckon you"re definitely a submissive.”
Submissive. The way he said the word sounded like a caress, but somehow in this place, it was a lot more frightening to admit to. In bondage games before, she"d never given up anything except mobility. Here…just the look in Master Marcus"s eyes made her breath stop—the look that said he"d demand more of her than just her physical freedom. The thought was exciting…and terrifying.
When she instinctively edged away, he curled his hand around her nape and moved her back. The warmth of his palm spread outward until her skin burned.
“Continue, Gabrielle.”
She wet her dry lips and forged ahead. “Well, watching Master Sam whipping someone bothered me. The whip, the pain made me want to crawl under a table and hide.”
Marcus chuckled. “Good to know. Sounds like there was something that attracted you?”
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The dom could give lessons in observation. “I… The interaction between them?
I can"t describe it.” She"d felt that kind of encompassing…communication…just once. Her first time in a club, an older dom, and a short scene. And she"d never found anything close again. Until now.
Marcus"s eyes softened. “That"s the heart of a scene. Very good. Go on.”
“Um. The two girls and one guy… I"d have enjoyed it better without the extra girl.”
He laughed. And waited.
She tried to retreat again, but his hand still held her in place. This sharing of…private feelings…the more she did, the more uncomfortable it was. She"d told him about the scenes that hadn"t affected her much, but now…
His thumb stroked the hollow at the base of her skull, giving her goose bumps.
“What"s wrong, sugar?”
“I…I don"t know you. And talking about this stuff is too personal. Answering your questions yesterday was bad enough.” But now he wanted to dig into her fantasies, dammit.
His hand still curled around her neck, he turned her to face him more fully.
The crinkle of the sun lines said he understood, but the set of his jaw said he wouldn"t relent. “You"re correct. This isn"t a normal dom-sub relationship, and someday I hope you will have a real one. For now, I am responsible not only to watch over you, to teach you, to help you find a good dom…but also to see to your needs.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You… I don"t have needs. I mean, I"m just here—”
“Everyone has needs, darlin". That you think you don"t means we"ll just have to explore longer.”
This time the goose bumps came totally from his words and the implacable look in his eyes. Oh God.
“Tell me about other scenes.” He regarded her as if he could see right into her heart
and soul, and that was just scary. He was demanding more from her than she wanted to give…to anyone.
No choice. She drew herself up, pretending he wasn"t touching her and that his masculine scent didn"t turn her brain to mush. Think. “The man locked in the cage creeped me out.” That was safe enough to say. “The wax play was…” She choked, trying to figure out what to call it. Definitely don’t say interesting and scary erotic.
Acting rude when strapped down to a table with wax dripping onto her skin sounded past masochistic. “Frightening.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Was it now?” Why didn"t he appear convinced?
“And the sub seemed out of it, like she"d had too much to drink or something.”
“That"s called subspace, sugar. You could call it drunk on endorphins, maybe.
It"s a good thing—a kind of euphoria.”
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“Oh. Huh.” She considered the picture again. The sub had been smiling, obviously close to coming, and higher than a kite. A happy kite. “Okay.”
“More.”
“That"s all.” Better stop while I’m ahead.
“Did you happen on the scene with the dom taking his sub in the ass?” he asked softly.
She swallowed. Oh, had she. The woman had come so violently, she"d screamed louder than the submissive Master Sam had whipped.
“I see you did.” He put a finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Are you interested in trying anal sex, darlin"?”
God yes. No. “Um. Maybe? No.” She rubbed damp hands on her skirt. The thought of him behind her, pushing… “No.”
His right cheek creased. “Well then, we not only need to work on your honesty, but we"ll need to get that pretty asshole of yours prepared.”
What? Her “pretty asshole” puckered in terror. And her breasts tightened with arousal. Why did she have so much trouble remembering this was just a job? I’m so confused.
“And speaking of preparation, you"d best show me your pussy. I forgot to check your work during inspection.”
Lift her skirt up so he could look at her down there? She flushed, and then the rest of his sentence registered. “Check your work.” Oh God. Her breath caught, and her stomach dropped right out of her body. She hadn"t shaved. She deliberately hadn"t shaved, but now she really, really wished she had. He"d be so unhappy with her. Disapproving. Like her father, who acted as if she never did anything right.
I’m not supposed to care about Marcus’s reactions. Bratty sub, bratty sub, bratty sub. She dragged up her inner diva and tossed her head. “What work?”
His eyes narrowed as if he saw how much effort it took to put on the rebellious act. “Lift your skirt, Gabrielle. Now.”
The power of his voice swept through her, and she wanted to—needed to—melt into a puddle at his feet. She realized her hands had already gripped the bottom of her skirt and started to lift. No no no. She forced her fingers open, let the skirt drop.
What I do must attract attention. Be rude. Blatant. Hauling in a quick breath, she blew a raspberry. “Lift it yourself, big boy.”
A moment of silence from him. Then he shook his head. “I believe I will do just that.” He gripped her arm, dropped down into the chair behind him, and yanked her facedown over his knees.
“Hey!” The realization of what he planned to do hit her. Spank her? As if she were a kid? Humiliation scraped her insides like sandpaper, increasing as she remembered how many people stood nearby. They"d see… The shame and horror and fury tangled into a foaming brew. She kicked frantically and tried to push back to her feet.
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He shifted her until she had no leverage, and hooked his right leg over her ankles. She felt her leather skirt lifted, a brief wash of air, and then he slapped her bottom. Hard.
“Ow!” Fury won, and she yelled it. Make a scene? If he wanted to spank her, he"d just see what kind of a nightmare a poorly disciplined sub could create. Spank her? “You fucking dipwad!”
His voice remained perfectly controlled, but she could feel his anger simmering. “I"m getting downright weary of your ornery behavior. Yesterday, being as you were new, I didn"t take you much to task. But you"re trying to rile me up on purpose, and I do believe you"ve bit off more than you can chew.”
He paused as if to let her speak, but she had nothing she could say.
“You best count for me. If you show me you"re sorry, I"ll stop at ten. Otherwise I"ll spank you until the cows come home.”
“That"s a dumb-ass idea.” She was too angry to curb her mouth. “You"re a dumb-ass.” She tried to kick and got nowhere. “Even Jesus thinks you"re a dumb-ass.”
She heard a snort of laughter. Then his way-too-hard hand slapped her left butt cheek.
Burning pain. “Ow!” He can’t do this to me, dammit. “You dickweed! Are you always stupid, or is today a special occasion?”
“Gabrielle, I got a notion I might enjoy walloping you. Let me know when you"re fixin" to start counting, subbie.” Then the blows rained onto her bottom like all hell crashed down on her. And each slap hurt—really, really hurt.
She kicked and screamed. She needed to make him stop, to do something to hurt him back—she bit his leg.
He stopped and grabbed her hair before she got a good grip, then yanked her head away from his calf. Ow ow ow. “No, Gabrielle,” he said firmly as if to a child, and a flash of shame raced through her. She"d tried to bite him?
He held her head up long enough for her to get the point, then released her hair and spanked her again. Even more harshly. When everything around her seemed to pulse with red-streaked pain, he stopped for a second. “You want to count, Gabrielle?”
“One!” She sucked in a breath, mad enough the words slid right out. “You asshole, one!”
Marcus clenched his teeth together to keep a bellow of laughter from escaping.
Nolan and Dan had stopped to watch, and their shoulders shook with the same effort. Damn, how could he want to beat her curvy ass and still think she was so cute?
He waited until his voice steadied. “Bad-mouthing your dom isn"t respectful, subbie. I do believe your count is at zero.” As she squirmed, he caught flashes of her Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir
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curly pubic hair. He sighed and gave her three more swats, this time on the tender undercurve of her cheeks.
She let out half a growl, half a shriek. “I"m sorry. One! One, okay? One, Sir.”
He paused. “That does sound better, Gabrielle. One, then.”
Anger gone, she pressed her face against his leg and began to cry.
His gut twisted. He enjoyed giving erotic spankings. And although fighting with a screaming little subbie was fun, hurting a crying one was entirely different.
This felt too much like kicking a puppy. But backing off would be the wrong choice.
She had to learn at gut level that her behavior had consequences.
Still, he lightened his blows and slowed enough so she could count: “Two, Sir.
Three, Sir…”
When the count reached ten, he looked at her poor bottom and shook his head.
He hadn"t struck her nearly as forcefully as he did masochists and spanking addicts, but her fair, fair skin glowed a fiery red. She might even have a bruise or two just because her soft ass wasn"t accustomed to punishment. He sighed and stroked her back, giving them both a second.
He noticed Nolan"s sub when she trotted up and handed her dom a tube of lotion. Nolan caught Marcus"s eye and wiggled the tube, then ran his knuckles over Beth"s freckled cheek, her skin almost as pale as Gabrielle"s. The dom had obviously run into the problem before.
Marcus nodded.
Nolan came over, flipped open the lid, and squeezed some lotion on Marcus"s palm.
Wintergreen and the milder sunflower-like scent of arnica drifted in the air.
Very nice. “Thank you, Nolan.”
The dom"s rough face held sympathy. “It really does help,” he said quietly, then led his sub away.
“Don"t move, sugar,” Marcus warned Gabrielle. Dammit, this would hurt almost as much as the spanking. He set one hand on her lower back to hold her and started to massage the ointment into her reddened skin.
Her soft sobs broke into a thin scream, obviously from between gritted teeth.
Marcus winced. “This will help the bruising, sweetheart,” he said, and despite her squirming, he did a thorough job.
Done. Marcus closed his eyes and exhaled. Damn Z for putting him in this position. This little sub should not be in the trainees. He waited another minute, stroking her gently.
“It"s over, darlin",” he said finally and helped her stand. Her face was tear streaked and red from crying, and his heart squeezed.
He pulled her down to sit on his lap, leaning back so she could get most of her weight off her tender bottom. She still gave little hiccuping sobs, and he cuddled her close. Damn, he hated having to punish a sub, no matter how well deserved, and 40
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this time seemed worse than normal. Despite all her insolent behavior, she was a very likable woman.
He stroked her hair. Why are you here, little sub? “You could use your safe word, Gabrielle. You don"t need to stay.”
A pause. Her chin firmed despite her quivering lips. “No.”
He sighed and rubbed his cheek on her silky hair, inhaling a feminine fragrance of rose and amber. “All right, Li"l Miss Stubborn.” In that case, he needed to reinforce the lesson she"d just learned. Hopefully learned. “Respect, Gabrielle. A submissive must be polite and respectful. Do you understand?”
She sighed like a weary child and whispered against his neck, “Yes, Sir.”
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