Chapter Four
The lion"s deep-throated roar sent a chill down Gabi"s spine. Holy hell, she hadn"t been here in a while, and she"d forgotten what they sounded like up so close.
The sweat under her arms wasn"t totally from the heat. A voice in her head scrambled around like a mouse, screaming, Run run run! He’ll chomp me down in one bite. She hauled in a breath, smelling the ammonia of cat urine mixed with the tropical flowers and the moist morning air. After checking the lush undergrowth and moss-covered trees for any stalking felines, she hurried to catch up to her group.
While the mix of men and women listened attentively to the guide, Gabi trailed behind, not paying attention. After all, she"d taken Big Cat Rescue tours before. Today she just wanted to enjoy the cats and not think about last night.
One out of two wasn"t bad.
In the next cage, a panther relaxed on a thick tree limb and regarded the group with a poise that reminded Gabi of Master Marcus. And that was the problem. Instead of taking her mind off Marcus, the tawny-colored cats kept reminding her of him. Sleek and smooth and self-confident. Marcus even had the same stalking gait and measuring gaze.
In contrast she felt like a dog. A round cocker-spaniel puppy tripping over her fat, fluffy feet. Licking everything in sight. She grinned, remembering how she"d licked Master Sam"s orange-flavored cock.
Yeah, she was doing a fine job of thinking of something else. With a resigned sigh, she stretched, trying to get her body to wake up. She"d gotten back last night hours past her usual bedtime.
And today she felt just plain tired…and sore too. Even her silkiest bra rubbed painfully on her sensitive, swollen nipples. One more thing to remind her of that damned dom…and how his touch had been so sure and a little rough.
She"d dreamed about him.
Why couldn"t Z have given her to a different dom? One who wasn"t so cold…and then so warm. One minute Marcus had instructed her as if she hadn"t left grade school, and the next he"d kiss her… His lips had been firm, and he"d held her as if he had a right to take what he wanted. She closed her eyes as a full-fledged hot flash turned the air to a sauna"s temperature.
Dammit. This was not the time to get excited over a guy. As a decoy, she"d fully expected to get swatted or be embarrassed for misbehaving, even to get groped and 30
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have sex with people she didn"t know, but she"d never conceived of wanting someone. Of course Marcus was gorgeous, yet she"d never found all that chiseled handsome stuff so hot before. But Mr. Stuffy Lawyer somehow turned her on just by looking at her.
Maybe due to her lack of recent activity. After Andrew, she"d lost interest in dating, since when she"d broken up with him, she"d realized she"d once again picked a man her parents would approve of. You"d think she"d learn. That kind of man liked her in the beginning, then started getting more and more critical. She never lived up to their expectations—never lived up to her parents" expectations either.
She"d never be perfect.
Marcus is…and dammit, I don’t like perfect people. Well, it didn"t matter. After another night or so of her insolence, Marcus would hate the sight of her.
That just made her feel even more miserable.
Behind her, from the parking area, the peacocks screamed, recalling her to reality. A bad reality. Grumpily, she trailed after the group, scuffing her sneakers on the dirt path. In a nearby pen, a panther chirped, the sound an octave lower than her cats" voices.
Her poor kitties. When she"d moved into the cheap apartment the FBI had obtained for her, her two boys had sulked, displeased at leaving all their well-marked furniture behind. She understood totally. This job made her feel like an animal in a zoo—stuck in a tiny, ugly enclosure under all sorts of rules, with someone watching all the time. It was probably why she"d thought of visiting here this morning, to sympathize with the other trapped beasties.
She shared another bond with the big cats here. They knew all about hunting.
Despite the scorching sun, Gabi shivered. I’m prey. Hopefully the kidnapper had taken the bait and was stalking Gabi right now. If not, or if he didn"t try for the other decoys, the investigation would stall until he made a move—undoubtedly in some other city. Part of her wanted to be his chosen one, the hapless victim who'd lure him into a cage of FBI agents. Another part, scared shitless, begged to go home and curl up with her cats.
How many women had he ripped from their lives and sold? Kouros said the guy could have been doing this for a while. She felt her fingers rubbing the scar on her face and pulled her hand away. I don’t want to be his target. But she had no better way to help her friend. What would happen to Kim—to all the other women—
if he wasn"t caught? Stay the course, Gabi.
The tour had stopped as the guide talked about a tiger rescued from a zoo.
While they watched, an attendant threw a watermelon into a pond. Gabi giggled as the huge cat sprang down a slope and launched himself after it. Water sprayed everywhere.
As she walked to the parking lot, still grinning, she turned her cell phone back on. Two missed calls from Rhodes. Before she"d made it to her car, he called again.
Oh joy.
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“Hello,” she said.
“You aren"t cutting it, Renard…” He continued on in full Dickhead mode. She hadn"t done a good job or been noticeable enough… “Two other women made more of a splash than you did last night, Renard. A blonde and a little brunette. Better looking than you too, so tell me why the kidnapper would choose you if he could grab one of them?”
Well, that hurt. Maybe it shouldn"t, since she knew she wasn"t especially pretty, but still… She bit back her first response. As a social worker, she"d learned that calling someone a sorry-ass loser tended to screw up any chance of cooperation.
A shame the scum-sucking dipwad couldn"t grasp the concept. “I understand,” she said sweetly. “But bear in mind if I"m too badly behaved, they"ll wonder why Z
doesn"t boot me out of the trainees. But I"ll try to be louder tonight.”
“You will damn well be louder.”
Or what? You’ll take me off this job and get a person with no clue of how to behave in a club? She changed the subject. “Do I have someone watching me during the day?”
“Of course. There"s always one agent somewhere near you. Just go about your business and leave the work to us.”
Her hand clamped on the phone. Work, huh? She"d far rather serve as the backup. Maybe she should stick clamps on his dick and let him discover the joys of decoy duty…if anyone could find what was probably an itty-bitty dick. She grinned.
“Will do.”
She snapped the phone shut. He sure hadn"t changed since last year. She grimaced. After a school shooting in Tampa, the authorities had called in victim specialists from other areas, including her Miami office. Dickhead had headed up the investigation, and they"d butted heads over his crass behavior toward women, like the sisters of the shooters—ones who felt they couldn"t say anything. Due to his high connections, her complaints got ignored. He was such a bastard.
But right now, the bastard had a point. She needed to ramp up her bratty act.
She rolled her eyes. To think she had competition for the brattiest in the club.
Unfortunately the most disobedient sub wouldn"t receive a trophy, but slavery instead. Her amusement died.
She had agents watching her back, but the other two submissives in the Shadowlands didn"t. If the kidnapper took those women because Gabi hadn"t made a good enough effort… How could she live with that?
So…must be louder, nastier. She flipped the phone open and shut, trying to think of showy ways to demonstrate she was a badass submissive. Rude attitude, check. Insults? Hmm.
She smiled. The teenage victims she counseled sure had good ones. Maybe make a list and memorize some.
What else could she do to show her brattiness? She slid into her car, then giggled, remembering one of Marcus"s orders.
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She hadn"t wanted to shave down there anyway.
* * *
After lifting weights for an hour, Marcus walked into the locker room of the fitness club. He nodded at the lanky college student changing into a karate uniform.
“Tim, how are you doing?”
“Good, man, good.” Tim finished knotting his brown belt. “Sensei asked if you"d arrived yet. He wants you to mentor a couple of new boys.”
“Ah.” Marcus frowned. He"d cleared some of his cases, had a closing argument to prepare, another court date after that. As a prosecuting attorney, he never lacked for things to do, but he"d much prefer to guide the next generation in the right direction rather than skewering them in court. He"d find the time. “Please tell him I would be happy to help out.”
“Good deal. Their mama brought them in—sounds like they"re sliding into a gang.”
“Got it.” As the young man headed out, Marcus shook his head. Damn gangs.
Well, he"d give the sensei a hand with getting the boys onto a better track.
Pulling on his gi, Marcus glanced at the wall clock. After class, he"d have just enough time to shower and change before heading to the Shadowlands.
He smiled, looking forward to the evening. He enjoyed working with the trainees and doing scenes with the various subs in the club, but Gabrielle had added a sense of challenge he hadn"t felt in a long time. Hadn"t realized he missed.
And yet he didn"t like misbehaving submissives. As he tied his black belt, he pondered on his anticipation. The new trainee had an appealing little body, soft and curvy. Her face had character, which he believed more attractive than mere beauty, although she was pretty too, with those rich brown eyes and the pale skin warmed by her red hair. So yes, her appearance attracted him.
Her personality? She had a quirky sense of humor and a soft, sultry giggle that made him laugh. Definitely smart. And she had an easygoing charm—at least when she wasn"t trying to be obnoxious.
She"d tested him all evening. But the few times he"d seen her submit had been heady. He"d wanted more. Wanted her in bondage, with willing surrender in her eyes.
What would she be like in bed? When she"d kissed him, she"d focused her entire attention on him. Not worrying about other people, her clothes, her hair—
just giving her all. That kind of concentration was as sexy as it was compelling.
A man had to wonder if she"d concentrate on f*cking as completely.
He started to harden and gave an exasperated snort. Having a woody in a karate class? Bad idea. Besides, it was too early to think about taking the little sub.
Too soon to even make solid plans on how to train her. As unpredictable as she was, he"d need to play it by ear. Hopefully he"d figure out why she had such a rebellious attitude, and then he could center some scenes around the problem.
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Smiling, he slammed his locker shut and snapped on the padlock. Any way he looked at it, he doubted he"d be bored tonight.
* * *
Boot camp, Shadowlands-style. The wood floor hurt Gabi"s knees as she knelt in the entryway with the other trainees for Master Marcus"s inspection before the evening began. As he strolled down the line, she kept expecting him to bark out, Is your rifle clean, Private? She stared at the floor. Don’t giggle, dummy.
Shoes appeared, nice charcoal gray slacks, a suit coat, and… When she met Marcus"s intent gaze, her amusement disappeared—along with the rest of her mind.
He held her, frozen in place, with only the power in his eyes.
Then he smiled. “Welcome back to the Shadowlands, Gabrielle. Stand yourself up now.”
Feeling gawky after the smooth grace of the others, she scrambled to her feet and imitated the stance they"d taken. Feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind her back, straight posture, chin up. Sir, yes, Sir. But as his razor-sharp gaze scrutinized her body, she flushed and her nipples contracted into peaks, thankfully concealed by her vest. Surely that wasn’t supposed to happen in boot camp.
“You look very nice,” he said in his deep, molasses-slow voice, and his approval made her feel as if she"d gotten a gold star on her spelling paper. Of course, she deserved a gold star for her attire. She"d gone for a barbaric appearance with a laced-up leather vest and matching short leather skirt. Knowing she"d be barefoot, she"d painted her toenails a garish red. Temporary tattoos of swords and thorns circled her upper arms.
He ran his hand over one tattoo, and his eyebrows quirked. As his calloused palm continued down her arm, her knees weakened. How could a man"s touch—just his damned touch—mess with her like this?
His gaze intent on her face, he lifted her hand and nibbled her fingers.
When her toes curled, he smiled slowly. “Tonight you"ll waitress on the dance side of the room. Remember, you may not play with anyone without my permission, but you"re encouraged to stop and talk.” His bourbon-smooth voice spiraled around the top of her spine and slid straight down to her groin like a sip of hundred-proof sex. “With all the instructions you had last night, I"m not sure I explained this well.
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 a*shole of yours prepared.”
What? Her “pretty a*shole” 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 p-ssy. 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 f*cking 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 a*shole, 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.”
“I"m very glad. I don"t think either of us wants a repeat of this.” He held her as she settled and relaxed into him, accepting his comfort, which helped them both feel better. As a submissive needed the security of a dominant"s arms, the dominant needed to provide it.
For some reason, with Gabrielle, his instincts cried out for him to hold her, to shield her, to protect her. Did she seem more vulnerable than most, despite the smart mouth, or was he pulled to her cheerful warmth like a winter fire? He tipped his head back and stared at the dark ceiling rafters. Damned if she wasn"t getting to him. God help me.
She felt so soft in his arms. Her breathing evened out, and her slender fingers unclenched; one hand rested on his shirt over his heart. His shoulders relaxed as he realized she was snuggling. How long since he had held a woman who snuggled against him?
With a silent sigh, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Up you go, darlin".”
When she rose, he steadied her on her feet. “Now show me your p-ssy.”
This time she not only didn"t smart off but looked downright frightened. Slowly she lifted her skirt and showed him the red curls still adorning the mound he"d ordered her to shave.
When Master Marcus shook his head in disapproval, Gabi took a step back and tried to blink away the tears filling her eyes. Her butt hurt so bad, she wasn"t sure she"d survive more punishment.
“I"m not fixin" to spank you again, Gabrielle,” he said and rose, “although I am disappointed.” Without further words, he hooked her cuffs together behind her, guided her to the submissives" sitting area, waited for her to kneel, and attached a chain from the floor to her cuffs.
“You just set here awhile. I"ll send for you in a bit.”
She hadn"t realized how much she loved the molasses-thick warmth in his voice until it had turned cold. She lowered her head, unable to summon any ambition to act like a brat.
Masters of the Shadowlands 5: Make Me, Sir
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