Title: Please Sir, I Want Some More
Author: Tayla
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairing: Gil/Greg
Rating: R
Category: Smut
Archive: Yes to WWOMB/Peja. Yes to Greg Slash Archive. All others please ask
Feedback: Yes, please. All constructive criticism will be graciously accepted
Email: tayla36@aol.com
Authors Web Site: http://www.geocities.com/tayla36/index.html
Disclaimers: CSI and its characters belong to Anthony Zuiker and CBS broadcasting company. The author makes no profit and no infringement is intended.
Authors Notes: In response to Peja's Improv Challenge #4. I thought I didn't like the Improv Challenges, but this word list got to me and spawned this piece of filth.
Improv Word List:
Please sir, I want some more
Black roses
mind games
bribe
no harm, no foul
pizza guy
security
This was not beta'd and I wrote it in about half and hour, so please, be kind.
Spoilers: "Slaves of Las Vegas" and my own fic I've Never Told Anybody This Catherine (Slash Version)
Summary: Greg has to pay for his mistakes.
Warnings: No actual sex, but there are BDSM themes.
Author's Note, 9/21/2003: This story was originally meant to be a stand alone, but it has become part of a series exploring the games that Gil and Greg like to play.

As soon as I came in to work this evening I knew I had displeased him. There was a black rose on my counter. My master had left it for me. Oh boy, I'm in big trouble now.

I hurried around the counter and got rid of the rose quickly. Sara and Warrick were coming up the hallway. It wouldn't do for them to start asking questions.

We tried to be discrete about our relationship at the lab. Really, I think only Catherine knows and even she doesn't know all of it. She knows we're together, she doesn't know all the details about our sex life.

I'm kind of surprised about him leaving the rose here. He usually doesn’t play mind games at work. But now I'm going to be thinking about it all night. What he's going to do to me for my little indiscretion. Maybe I can bribe him with a home cooked breakfast. Not that I'm all that great a cook. Maybe some good take out.

But of course that's how I got into this mess. Take out. We had a pizza delivered last night. While he was looking for his wallet, I was flirting with the pizza guy. It was just some harmless flirting. No harm, no foul, right?

Wrong. My master did not see it that way. As soon as he closed the door and turned back to me, I saw the look in his eye. That slightly angry, calculating look that always sends a thrill through me. But he didn't say anything. We had a very pleasant evening. We ate pizza and watched TV and made love in front of the fireplace. He didn't say a word about the delivery guy.

Now I know he was just lulling me into a false sense of security.

I dwell on it all night. Wondering what punishment he has in mind. He has a wonderfully wicked imagination, and since he struck up that unlikely friendship with Lady Heather, he's been using it more and more. I still recall, fondly, the day he suspended me form the support beams in his living room and painted me with liquid latex. Fond hell, it makes me hot every time I think of it. And I'm thinking of it now, as I drive over to his place after work. Maybe he's got something like that in store for me today. He's got something planned. He left early today. He almost never leaves work early.

I pull into his garage and he meets me at the kitchen door, hands on his hips, still dressed in the chinos and polo shirt that he had on at work. That's not surprising. He hardly ever dresses up himself, even though he has a whole closet full of outfits for me to wear when we play our games.

But he doesn't dress me up today. He motions for me to strip while I'm still standing in the garage. That's when I notice he's got a new paddle. It looks just like the one I had in college when I was in the fraternity. Of course in college they were just for show, we never actually used them for their intended purpose. I had no such hopes today. He had his stern face on. He's definitely going to use it on me.

He ushers me into the kitchen and bends me over the kitchen table. He still hasn't said a word. He places one hand on the small of my back and brings the paddle down sharply on my butt.

I squeal a little and shift my feet uncomfortably. He just lets the paddle rest there on my stinging buttocks.

And waits.

I know what he's waiting for. I shift my feet again. I hate this part of it. I wish he would paddle me and let me cry and get it over with.

But no, he wants me to talk. And I know that ever second I resist is another swat added on to my total, but I really don't want to say it.

He's very patient, but even he has his limits. I hear him sigh, and the paddle moves, just slightly, brushing against the sensitive skin. I risk a glance over my shoulder at him, and I can see the bulge in his slacks. I really want to get my hands and my mouth on that, but we have to get through the spanking first. And I really like the spanking, it always gets me hot.

So I finally give in.

"Please sir, I want some more."