Make Me, Sir

“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.

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?

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.

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.