Safe Harbor (15 page)

On Wednesday afternoon, Mac vocally protested when Sully wanted to go downstairs to work out.

“You need to rest your leg another day or two, Master.”

Sully still heavily relied on his cane. “Not exercising is what got me in trouble.”

“Master, I don’t want you to hurt yourself again. Just relax today and—”

“Stop, slave.”

Clarisse looked up at Sully’s sharp tone. Mac’s face reddened before his gaze dropped to the floor.

“Go bring it and meet me in the playroom,” Sully ordered.

“Now.”

Mac disappeared to their bedroom and returned a moment later carrying a punishment cane. He followed Sully to the playroom.

They left the door open.

Clarisse heard their voices. Curiosity got the better of her. She quietly walked down the hallway and peeked through the open door.

Mac knelt on the floor, his head bowed.

“What have I told you about talking back, slave?”

“I’m sorry, Master. I’m worried about your leg.”

“What is the proper way to express your opinion?”

“I ask to talk with you.”

“And did you?”

“No, Master. I’ve earned twenty-five.”

“Over the bench. Now.”

Mac complied. She gasped when he stood and she realized despite

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that the fact he was about to get smacked, his cock stood proud and rigid.

Holy crap!

Mac leaned over one of the benches, where Sully quickly delivered the blows. Red stripes crisscrossed Mac’s ass and upper thighs, but not once did she hear him cry out.

Pain in her fingers made her realize she’d grabbed hold of the door frame and was hanging on for dear life. She couldn’t bring herself to leave.

Sully walked across the room and picked up a tube of lotion, then returned to Mac and applied it to his flesh. Clarisse didn’t know how to reconcile the tender gesture with the punishment she’d just witnessed.

When Sully finished, he gently patted Mac on the back.

“Finished.”

Mac rose from the bench, then knelt in front of Sully again.

“Thank you, Master.”

Sully’s fingers twined in Mac’s hair. “Feeling better?”

“Yes, Master.” Mac nuzzled his forehead against Sully’s thigh.

“I’m going downstairs to work out. You may come with me to keep an eye on me, if you want. I promise I won’t overdo it.”

“Thank you, Master. I will.”

“Then put this away and get some clothes on.”

Sully handed Mac the cane. Mac stood. When he spotted Clarisse by the door, he smiled. She ducked into the hallway and leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath. Mac appeared, carrying the cane.

“You all right, sweetie?”

She nodded. She couldn’t look him in the eye, but when her gaze dropped to the floor, she found herself staring at his erect cock.

Clarisse swallowed hard and looked up at Mac’s smiling face.

He winked. Then he turned and walked down the hall. The angry red stripes prominently crisscrossed his ass.

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“Are you okay?”

Sully’s voice startled her. She turned. “Yeah.”

He leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest and holding his walking cane. “Want to talk about it?”

“It’s between you two.”

He pushed off from the wall. “You live here. I do care about your feelings.”

“I don’t have any say in the matter.” She turned to go, but he reached out and touched her arm. Not grabbing, yet the gesture stopped her anyway.

“Clarisse,” he softly said, “you have to understand it’s who he is.

What he needs.”

“I don’t know if I can.” She returned to her room and shut the door. A few minutes later, she heard the men go downstairs. Then the faint sound of music filtered through the floor.

She couldn’t get the sight of Mac’s erect cock out of her mind.

How could punishment
excite
him? Yeah, she understood the theories behind what they did, but it didn’t make it any easier to digest.

She also didn’t understand why it was suddenly so important to her that she do.

* * * *

The next afternoon she drove the Bug and visited Uncle Tad by herself. She tried to visit him every day. With the worst of her bruises fading, it was a relief not to pancake makeup on her face. He welcomed her in, and they settled on the couch to talk.

“What’s on your mind, little girl? You doing okay? You look worried.”

Clarisse forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

He scowled as much as he could with his face half frozen by the stroke. “You’d better not be considering moving.”

She blushed. “What do you mean?”

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He gripped her hand with a strength she didn’t think he could possess. “Sully and Mac are good men. I’ve known them for years.

Dammit, I don’t want to worry about you being on your own and falling for some asshole who’s gonna beat your brains out and finish what Bryan started!”

“Uncle Tad—”

“No!” He pulled himself to his feet and turned on her, shaking his finger at her like she was a child. “You were so all-fired worried to protect my feelings? Then you listen to me. You don’t even
think
about moving out of there, or I swear to Jesus I’ll have another stroke just to spite you!”

Clarisse tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t help it. “All right, Uncle Tad. I promise I’ll stay with them for now.”

“No, not ‘for now.’ That’s bullshit. You stay with them until I say otherwise, got it? Don’t make me guilt trip you.”

“All right, all right. Fine. I promise.” Was it a promise she could keep?

She’d spent the night before dreaming of Mac tying her up and spanking her before making love to her—not exactly something she’d expected. Agreeably a damn sight better than her nightmares of Bryan trying to kill her, but when she awoke she was left with a dull, empty ache in her heart.

Not to mention an uncomfortably erotic throbbing and dampness between her legs.

Tad smiled, apparently knowing he’d won the battle. “That’s better.”

* * * *

Saturday, the morning of the party, Clarisse helped Mac in the kitchen with preparations. She still didn’t know how she’d handle the night. Sully invited her to watch and mingle if she wanted. If she felt more comfortable, she could close herself in her room for the evening.

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Either way, their guests had already been informed of her presence so there would be no misunderstandings.

Mac loaned her his MP3 player and Sully’s noise-cancelling headphones he sometimes used while working. Between those and the TV, there would be no way she could hear anything…if she so chose.

By eight o’clock that evening, Mac had rearranged the living room. He moved a couple of the benches from the playroom out to the living room and locked Sully’s office door.

Mac looked handsome in jeans and a black button-up shirt. He still wore his leather collar. Sully had dressed similarly, only in a white shirt.

She’d had the Mac dream several more times, each ending the same way, with Mac’s sweet cock plunging into her eager body. That would never happen in real life, duh. Despite his sweet reassurances that he thought she was pretty, he was—
hellooo—
gay.

Add to the mix his blatantly obvious devotion to Sully and she felt a little jealous for a whole bunch of irrational reasons she couldn’t explain or deny.

The house phone rang at a quarter to nine. Sully answered, then buzzed the gate code to allow the caller in. Mac pulled Clarisse in for a hug.

“The first guests are here. You’re welcome to stay or go. It’s up to you.”

Curiosity had gotten the better of her. “I’ll stay for a little while, at least.” She’d pulled on sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt of Mac’s that hung nearly to her knees.

Mac left her in the kitchen and walked downstairs to greet their guests. Sully had turned the TV off and put on music. “Curious?”

She blushed. “Yeah.”

He limped over. “You do realize I love him and would never do anything I thought would harm him, right?”

She nodded as his grey gaze impaled her. An unquenchable need to understand Mac’s relationship with Sully had taken over. She’d

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gladly escaped Bryan’s abuse. Why would anyone willingly subject themselves to punishment?

Why did he trust Sully so much?

Why couldn’t she?

And why the
fuck
did it matter so much to her?

Mac returned with their guests, a man and a woman. Mac carried a large duffel bag. The woman wore a trench coat, impossibly high stiletto heels, and a black leather collar around her neck. The guy wore blue jeans, a chambray shirt, and a brown leather vest. They both looked like average people.

Sully introduced her. “Clarisse, this is Bob and Jenna.”

She shook hands with them and exchanged greetings before Sully led them into the living room. Jenna slipped off her coat, which Mac took for her. Beneath it, she wore a black leather corset that pushed her breasts up and left her nipples exposed. Her frilly short skirt testified to the fact that she hadn’t worn any panties, just a garter belt and stockings. She reminded Clarisse of a pornographic ballerina.

Clarisse understood why Mac had laid decorative throw covers on all the furniture.

As other guests arrived, Mac helped them with their things. A husband and wife couple, Alex and Doreen, with Doreen obviously submissive to her husband. Again, Alex wore slacks and a button-up shirt and could have been on his way to dinner. Doreen wore knee boots and a full skirt that skimmed her knees. She’d unbuttoned her loose blouse to her waist to expose the black bustier she wore underneath. Around her left wrist, she wore a silver charm bracelet with small bells that tinkled every time she moved.

The last couple, the woman was in charge. The man, Mike, wore a high leather collar that kept his chin up and looked uncomfortable.

Clarisse stayed in the kitchen as she listened and observed, feeling critical and curious at the same time.

The woman, Yvette, had short, spiked, bright orange hair. She gave Mac a huge hug and left her arm draped around him while she

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talked with Sully. Then she looked at Mike. “What are you doing standing there, boy?”

“Sorry, Ma’am.” He started unbuttoning his shirt.

“That’s better.” Yvette returned her attention to Sully and Mac as the man stripped, neatly folded his clothes and laid them on top of the rolling suitcase they’d brought, and then knelt before her.

He wore a leather harness that circled his waist and passed between his legs and…

Clarisse tried not to stare. She couldn’t help herself. The wicked metal cage, composed of several rings, encompassed his balls and cock.

Yvette hooked her arm through Mac’s. Clarisse wanted to walk over and push her away from him.

Then Sully caught Clarisse’s eye from across the room. “Mac, bring me something to drink, please,” he ordered.

Yvette released his arm and he headed to the kitchen. Sully still talked to the woman, but his gaze never wavered from Clarisse.

Mac walked into the kitchen and fixed Sully a drink. “You okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah. Just going to stand here and stare for a while,” she tried to joke, her gaze still locked on Sully, unable to look away.

He patted her on the back before returning to Sully’s side. Sully took the drink, thanked him, then ordered him to kneel on the floor next to him. With that, he lifted an eyebrow at Clarisse before returning his full attention to Yvette.

Clarisse blushed.

If she didn’t know any better, it was as if he’d read her mind, had sensed her jealousy seeing the other woman acting that friendly with Mac.

Clarisse fixed herself a plate of food and leaned against the far counter to eat, out of sight of the living room. A moment later, Jenna walked in carrying a bottle of wine and looking for a corkscrew.

Clarisse helped her rummage through drawers, found it, and

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handed it to her. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” She set the bottle on the counter to open it. “You’ve never seen a party like this, I bet.”

Her friendly smile couldn’t be denied a reply. Clarisse reached over to help steady the bottle as Jenna worked on the cork. “No, can’t say as I have.”

“We don’t bite.” She giggled. “Well, actually Yvette does bite, but only people who want to be bitten.”

“I’ll pass.”

As Jenna made progress with the cork, they shifted the bottle to give her a better grip. “So do I. I’m a sensual slut, not a pain slut,” she said and giggled again. The cork gave way with a
pop.
Jenna handed Clarisse the corkscrew. “Thanks for the help. Feel free to ask me anything, I like to talk about the lifestyle. Bob and I host the local Munch.” At Clarisse’s obviously confused look, Jenna smiled. “It’s like a vanilla dinner where we get together and eat and talk.”

Weird.
This wasn’t scrapbooking or bowling. This was whips and chains. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jenna returned to the living room while Clarisse finished her food.

Stay or go?
She felt plain, frumpy and underdressed—

overdressed, actually—in her sweats and T-shirt. The women all looked beautiful, hair and makeup and nails done. All she’d done was run a brush through her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail.

She ducked outside through the back sliders and walked around the porch to the stairs. She had a load of laundry in the dryer that should be finished. She took her time sorting and folding, and then she grabbed paper towels and spray cleaner and started wiping down the washer and drier even though they didn’t need it. She cleaned the downstairs bathroom. She ran a bucket of mop water and started on the tile floor when she heard footsteps on the stairs.

The door opened. “You in here, sweetie?” Sully called.

She tensed. “Yeah, I’m here.”

He closed the door behind him and walked into the laundry

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alcove. “You don’t have to do this tonight,” he softly said.

Clarisse opted for forced chipperness. “That’s all right. No one will be down here tonight. I meant to do it today and got sidetracked.”

“It doesn’t need it.”

“Still has to be done.”

“Clarisse,” he firmly said.

She tensed and forced herself to keep breathing slowly and steadily. “What?”

“Please look at me.”

She turned. If only he wasn’t so ruggedly handsome. His good looks differed from Mac’s easy, open charm. Sully’s hard face spoke of determination and an iron backbone, his smiles warming his face when he chose to use them.

“Answer me truthfully. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just…easing into things.”

“I won’t let her touch Mac again.”

She blinked.

Sully smiled at her obvious surprise. “You looked like you wanted to rip her arm off.”

Clarisse blushed, grabbed the mop, and busied herself swabbing the floor. Not knowing what to say in reply, she kept her mouth shut.