Make Me, Sir

by Cherise Sinclair

  He couldn"t do it.

  “Please do a scene with me, Master,” Celine repeated, making him grimace.

  She knew full well that calling him Master rather than Master Marcus implied that he owned her, and if she thought that was an enticement, she didn"t understand him at all. Master meant commitment. To a submissive. To a woman.

  And love…love would be in there too. “I"m not your master. Use my name.”

  “May I give you pleasure?”

  “No.” He hadn"t wanted to hurt her by being blunt, but apparently he"d made a mistake. “Celine, you"re a lovely woman, but I don"t feel about you the way I should for a girlfriend or a submissive.”

  The muscles of her face tautened until her cheekbones turned white. “I"m perfect for you, Marcus. Let me show you.”

  “No. I won"t scene with you again.” He paused. “Would you like me to introduce you to some doms?”

  “No!” She stayed on her knees as if she expected him to change his mind. She was stubborn, he"d give her that.

  “I hope you find a good master. Take care of yourself, sugar.” He walked away before she could respond. After he did a quick check of his trainees, he"d damn well get himself a drink.

  Later this evening, he needed to get Gabi into a scene where she could display all her bratty talents. He chuckled…and his smile faded. He couldn"t top her again; they"d spent enough time together tonight.

  As he pondered on the doms he"d trust with her, his jaw tightened. He was an idiot, getting so territorial when they hadn"t talked about being together after this weekend. Nonetheless, that"s the way he felt.

  But she did need to play with someone else tonight. Maybe a lightweight flogging with nothing erotic at all.

  And for his own piece of mind, he"d find her an ugly dom.

  * * *

  Close to two in the morning, Maganti waited patiently for his last target to show up. Soon now, since Jang had called from the off-ramp to say she"d driven past. With the Shadowlands so far into the country, Jang had to watch from a more public location. Number four chickie. The last one. Pretty too. He smiled. Maybe he"d delay calling for the boat so he and Jang could enjoy themselves longer.

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  With a sense of anticipation, he spotted her car pulling into the lot. Right on time.

  Flashing lights appeared behind her, and Maganti"s jaw dropped when a cop car turned in and headed straight for the apartment building where he stood. What the fuck?

  Son of a fucking bitch, had he been made? Sweat trickled down his face as he ghosted back through the breezeway to the rear of the building, and from there watched two cops jump out of the patrol car and race up the stairs. They pounded on a door.

  A man shouted, “Go away.” Through the breezeway, Maganti saw lights blink on in the other buildings. Doors opened. The asshole had woken up everybody in the entire fucking apartment complex.

  Maganti watched, teeth grinding together, as his target walked into the breezeway and up the steps to her apartment.

  * * *

  Gabi"d felt so jumpy on the drive back that she almost crashed when a cop car appeared behind her. It followed her into the parking lot, then raced past and over to her building. It’s not here for me. Yet as she got out of the car, her skin prickled as if every little nerve ending sensed someone watching her. She knew Rhodes hung around somewhere, but somehow this felt more…ominous. Yet no one appeared. Maybe the weather"d made her jumpy. A storm system had moved in off the Gulf, and black clouds blotted out the stars. A blustery wind swayed the trees and tugged at her clothing.

  She walked across the lot as the cops pounded on a door a ways down from her own apartment. Before she"d reached the building, another police car pulled up, then an ambulance. Damn.

  After climbing the steps to her floor, she spotted her neighbor peeking out and asked, “What"s going on?”

  The tiny white-haired woman lit up at the chance to share gossip. “Oooh, that man in 282 came home beastly drunk and beat up his girlfriend. We heard her screaming all the way down here. Clara from 280 called me, and I told her to call the police.”

  Nothing to do with me. The relief made her grin. “Pretty disgusting—a man beating on a woman.” The switch marks on her bottom burned.

  “I never liked the look of him anyway. I told Clara that he looked like a brute.”

  Drawing her cotton robe closer against a spatter of raindrops, Mrs. Peters edged out onto the walkway to watch the brute get hauled away.

  Gabi glanced over the railing. Drunk and belligerent. She hesitated, wondering if she should check on the girlfriend, then saw a policewoman enter the apartment.

  So she patted Mrs. Peters on the fragile shoulder. “Have a nice rest of the night.”

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  “You too, dear.”

  After a quick shower, Gabi sprawled on her bed, still too awake to call it a night. As rain hit the windows in waves, she snipped off the leg of a snagged pair of panty hose and rolled it into a mouselike cat toy. She left a realistic tail on the end and tossed it onto the carpet. Two furry bodies sprang in pursuit.

  Horatio won. The brown ball in his mouth drooped in a convincingly mousy manner as he growled at Hamlet and lashed his tail.

  Hamlet hesitated. He licked a rough patch of fur to show he didn"t really want the mouse ball, then jumped on the bed to cozy up to Gabi.

  Lying on her side, she rubbed her nose in his soft fur. When she"d walked on the beach with Marcus, she"d asked that he find good homes for her babies…if anything happened. His expression had been frightening, and then he"d yanked her into his arms and held her. But he"d promised.

  “You"ll be safe, my boys, no matter what,” she murmured. “Just one more night.”

  Then what?

  She scritched Hamlet under the jaw, winning a purr. Then she"d go home to Miami and forget all about the Shadowlands? Marcus?

  Could she? Return home, yes. Forget? Probably not.

  Until the Shadowlands and Marcus, she hadn"t realized how deep her need went for more than—what did Marcus call it?—vanilla sex. After all, in the BDSM

  clubs in college, she"d never really submitted.

  But Marcus had shown her the fulfillment of handing over the reins and surrendering all of herself. She couldn"t give that up now, even if she had to look for it with someone else. So she"d continue to explore the scene, even when she left.

  Master Z could probably recommend a safe club.

  Marcus wouldn"t be her dom though. Needing something to fill the black emptiness inside, she pulled the cat on top of her stomach. He blinked at her and settled back down to snooze, ears cocked forward to listen.

  “You know, Hamlet, I don"t understand him.” When Marcus had taken her home with him, she"d had so much fun. Cooking, arguing, swimming. Just talking.

  The way he stepped in and out of dom mode had kept her half-aroused the entire time. On the beach, he"d been so sweet and playful…and she"d thought she meant something to him.

  But she could tell from the way Celine acted that they had a relationship.

  “You"re a guy,” she told Hamlet. “So tell me, how could he make love to me if he and Celine are an item?”

  His eyes opened a slit as if to remind her that men were bastards.

  Last night Marcus had handed her over to another dom to scene with. Not the behavior of someone who gave a damn, right? And she"d seen how well Celine suited Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir

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  him. So damned perfect. “They look good together, Hamlet.” Gabi sighed. “I guess I really don"t know him all that well.”

  Only she did. With her disobedient, insolent behavior, she"d made him furious, and he still controlled his temper. And me. The thoughtful, generous way he made love told her a lot. So did how he argued—fairly, acknowledging when she brought up a good point—and how he listened.

  She gave him the
same things back. And I make him laugh. Can oh-so-sweet Celine do that?

  Dammit. Tomorrow would be her last night. She"d watch, maybe ask him…somehow…if he thought…wanted… She groaned. Right. That’ll go over well; ask him a question you can’t even manage to articulate.

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  Chapter Eighteen

  Sitting quietly—and nakedly—in a roped-off scene area, Gabi waited for Marcus to return. The plastic drape covering the waist-high bondage table crackled under her butt. Around her, the Shadowlands warbled and soared with its own unique music: the Goth music of Cruxshadows pounding, impact toys cracking on bare flesh, a caged submissive crying in a high voice, a sub in a flogging scene moaning.

  The fragrance of leather mingled with sex and sweat and perfume. She held her arm to her face and inhaled the lingering scent from where Marcus had gripped her wrist.

  This was her last night here, Gabi thought. It was almost over, and no one had made an effort to lure her out of the building. Would the perp try for her later, after she left? Or maybe he hadn"t taken the bait. Had he targeted someone else?

  What if nothing happened now? She felt like dancing in relief…and crying.

  What about the women he"d kidnapped? What about Kim? Her hands fisted; then she forced her fingers to open. You can only do what you can do.

  Tonight, she"d act like a brat; this was her part to do. And she"d enjoy it as much as possible. Because, as Kim and the other women had found, sometimes things go bad. If the kidnapper did manage to get Gabi, at least she"d have lived.

  And loved? She shook her head. Live for today. Tomorrow can wait.

  A scream of release turned her attention to the flogging scene where the submissive writhed against the St. Andrew"s cross. The dom dropped his flogger and pumped his fingers into her pussy, and she shrieked higher, obviously coming again.

  At least someone was having a good night. I’m not sure I am. While serving drinks, she"d acted obnoxious enough to collect some nasty reprimands from the Masters. Now Marcus planned to play with her—with hot wax.

  And he calls it playing? Like, whatever happened to chess? Or cards? Or tag?

  As he strode into the roped-off area, carrying a tray of ominous-looking things, excitement speared low in her belly, along with a hell of a lot of anxiety.

  He set the tray on a table and moved it closer. “There we go. All ready.”

  Her hands turned clammy. “I don"t think I want to do this.”

  Marcus smiled at her and pulled her legs open, securing her knees to the straps on each side of the hip-wide table. He kissed her lightly, then put his hand Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir

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  over her face and pushed her down, making her giggle, at least until he put a strap across her hips. Oh man.

  “Do you prefer your arms above your head or at your sides?” he asked, ever so polite, the bastard, as if she didn"t see the amusement in his eyes at her squirming.

  She wiggled—tried to, at least—and the knowledge that she couldn"t escape sent a wave of heat rolling over her even as her breathing increased and fear trickled into her belly. No, hot wax wasn"t a good idea. “I prefer not to do this. I changed my mind.”

  He rubbed his jaw and looked at her quizzically. “Did I ask your permission?

  No, I didn"t. Little trainee”—he emphasized the word—“if you didn"t mark something as a hard limit, then you get to try it.”

  Oh God. “But—”

  He leaned his weight on his forearm beside her head, his eyes intent on hers.

  “If after we"ve started, you find this too much for you, for whatever reason, use your safe word. Do you trust me, Gabrielle?”

  “Too damn much if you ask me,” she grumbled. “Look at the stuff you"ve gotten me into.”

  “Look what you"ve learned about yourself, sugar.” He kissed her, taking charge of it and letting her feel that he had. By the time he lifted his head, desire bubbled in her veins and turned to a hot sizzle when his hand cupped her breast. How did he do this to her, take away all her willpower to fight?

  How could he turn her on with one single smile?

  Still leaning on his arm, he caressed her breasts. His licked finger stroked wetness in circles over the areola. As if he had nothing better to do, he studied how her nipples bunched into peaks. A mild pinch on each tip shot a roaring blast straight to her clit as if she had a freeway running from her breasts to her pussy.

  His eyes stayed focused on her face as he slid his hand down to the junction between her legs. “For someone who doesn"t want to do this, you"re a tad wet, sugar,” he murmured. His fingers played in the betraying wetness, tugging at her folds, sliding over her clit, teasing her entrance.

  Her clit tightened, and she actually felt blood swelling her labia until she throbbed. “It"s not the wax; it"s you.” Her voice came out breathless.

  His eyes crinkled. “Now that is purely nice to hear, sugar.”

  He straightened and pulled a strap across the table, positioning it below her breasts to restrain her arms at her sides. Another strap went a few inches above her nipples, and the two squeezed her breasts between them, pulling the skin taut.

  “Very pretty,” he said and tugged the hard peaks lightly, showing her how sensitive they"d become.

  She bit back a moan and tried to remember she needed to act disobedient. He made it so difficult. One stern look from him and she waved the white flag every time.

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  Or at least until she regained her wits.

  After drizzling massage oil onto her stomach, he massaged it in, from above her breasts to her inner thighs. When he dripped more over her clit, the electrifying impact of the tiny drops made her shudder. Then she gulped. There? Why was he putting anything anywhere near her pussy? “Why oil?”

  “You have beautifully delicate skin, Gabi,” he said gently. “The oil keeps the wax from sticking as much. Maybe someday we"ll try it without.”

  They had no someday. The thought sent a stab of regret through her. But what if there were? Would he want to see her after this?

  He shoved the small table closer and lit a white candle. Her arms tried to lift against the restraints. Get it away. Oh God, he really planned to do this.

  After rolling up the sleeves of his white tailored shirt, exposing those muscular forearms that really didn"t belong on a lawyer, he picked up the candle. He dripped some wax on his inner elbow, grunted, and raised the candle higher. More wax splatted onto his arm. “That"ll do.”

  She couldn"t take her eyes from the dancing flame. No, this was so wrong.

  Candles should be used for meditation…for romance. Or on a birthday cake at least.

  So where was the cake? The present? The song?

  As he stepped closer to her—as the damned flame got way too close—she started singing. “Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me…”

  Marcus paused, looking at her in disbelief.

  See. I knew he didn’t have a sense of humor. “Happy birthday, dear Gabi”—she lifted her head and blew out the candle—“happy birthday to me.”

  He stared at her, and she tensed, and then he burst out laughing, so loud and strong that she giggled. God, he was so incredibly sexy when he laughed.

  The stony-faced Master Nolan walked into the roped-off area and stared at her with unforgiving, dark eyes. “Marcus, you"re a pitiful excuse for a dom, let alone a trainer,” he said in his rough voice. And loudly too. “Beat her. Don"t laugh at her.”

  She scowled at him. “We don"t need you here.”

  With a snort of disgust, Nolan held up a tiny, tiny flogger with a palm-sized handle and thin suede strips. “Z got these today and sent one as a gift for your trainee.”

  It was totally cute. Marcus could lash her all day without doing any damage.

  She grinned. “A widdle flogger. Oooo, I"m scared now.”

  “I do believe you"re right. The traine
e is getting ornery,” Marcus said in his soft voice. He took the flogger and smiled at her. “It"s little, sugar, because it"s meant for little places.” With a flick of his wrist, he brought the strands down right on her pussy.

  “Ack!” Her back arched as she fought the straps, tried to bring her legs together as he gave her two more whaps. “Jesus Christ! What are—”

  He lifted an eyebrow and the flogger at the same time.

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  She shut right up. Her clit had been swollen from his fingers. Now it throbbed and burned. Wetness trickled through her folds, and she sucked in a breath. God, if he lashed her again, she might come.

  Nolan glanced at her pussy and snorted a laugh. “It"s not a good punishment for her, Marcus. She likes pussy whipping too much.”

  Smiling, Marcus pressed his palm between her legs, his intent blue eyes on her face as his fingers slipped and slid in her folds. “Well now, darlin", we might could have some fun with this later tonight.”

  The threat—promise—made her her pussy clench, and he laughed.

  Nolan shook his head, slapped him on the shoulder, and returned to the redheaded sub waiting outside the roped-off area.

  Marcus circled his fingers around her entrance, sliding so easily she knew her pussy must be drenched. “I do think you need something in that li"l cunt.” He turned away from her, leaving her throbbing, and rummaged in his leather toy bag.

  Her eyes widened when he held up the vibrator from the previous night. “I forgot to tell you that this is yours now, sugar. Before you take it home, we might as well get one more use of it.”

  “You wouldn"t.”

  He glanced at her in amusement. “Of course I would. Haven"t you learned anything yet?” He pushed the nubby penis shape against her entrance, and despite how wet she was, she was also still swollen from yesterday. She groaned as sensitive tissues stretched. He seated it deep inside her, and her vagina pulsed around the intrusion with each beat of her heart.