Looking confused, he set the basket down and walked over.
“Help me up.” When Mac started to protest, Sully silenced him.
“Don’t argue with me, slave. I want this conversation over with so we can get on with life.” Mac helped Sully stand. Then he handed him a walking cane that had been leaning against the end of the couch.
“Follow us, honey,” Sully said to her.
With her fingers firmly wrapped around her steaming mug of coffee, she followed the men down the hall. At the locked door, Sully punched in a code and turned the knob. “Zero, one, one, three. His birth date,” Sully explained. “January thirteenth.” He pushed the door open and limped inside where he flipped a light switch.
When Clarisse hesitated at the doorway, Sully turned and waved her in. “It’s okay,” he said, his tone gentle.
She stepped inside. The large room, approximately the same size as her bedroom, didn’t have an attached bathroom. Separated from her bedroom by Sully’s office, it was the last room at the end of the hallway. Several large pieces of equipment were pushed against the black walls, and a large cabinet took up one corner. A window shade muted the bright sunlight outside. She spotted several eyebolts screwed into the ceiling in strategic locations.
Sully followed her gaze. “They’re screwed into the roof trusses, so they can bear weight.”
“How much weight?”
He shrugged. “At least four hundred pounds. They’re reinforced with metal plates.” He pointed to one X-shaped structure. “St.
Andrew’s Cross.” He explained how it was used, then worked his way around the room naming the devices and basic uses. He could have been holding a seminar on decomposition rates or blood spatter patterns for a group of fellow cops, not BDSM furniture.
He finished. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Want to know more?”
She glanced at Mac and didn’t miss the desperate look on his face.
He worried she’d be scared off, that much was blatantly obvious. “Do I need to?”
Sully hobbled over to one of the benches and heavily sat with a pained grunt. “Here’s the thing. We were going to have a party next weekend, but I don’t mind canceling it if it’s too soon for you.”
This wasn’t her house. “I won’t tell you what you can and can’t do under your own roof.”
“That’s not the point,” Sully countered. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“As long as nobody’s doing anything to me, don’t cancel your party on my account. I’ll turn my TV up and lock my door.”
Mac looked worried. Sully nodded. “Okay.” He studied Mac’s attire. “Why are you still dressed?”
Mac blushed but stripped off the sweatpants. It was Clarisse’s turn to blush. Okay, so maybe there were major perks to this arrangement.
“If you have any questions, you’re always welcomed to ask,” Sully assured her.
“Why do you have to beat him?”
“I don’t have to.”
“Then why do it?” They said ask questions? By God, she’d ask.
Mac didn’t wait for Sully to answer. “Because I like it,” he softly said, glancing at Sully as if for reassurance.
“How can anyone enjoy getting beaten?”
“It’s not as simple as that,” Sully interjected. “Only by seeing it over time can you understand. Punishment isn’t the same as play. It’s not all about pain, a lot of it is sensual.”
She shivered and gripped her mug more tightly.
Sully wasn’t finished. “Mac always has the ability to stop anything he doesn’t like. He can call red.” He glanced at Mac. “That brings me to another point. We don’t want to force our lifestyle on you. You are, however, welcome to watch if the door is open. Or if something happens you aren’t comfortable seeing, speak up and we’ll take it behind closed doors.”
“Does my uncle know what you do?”
“No, not really. He suspects I’m in charge, but that’s it.” He motioned to Mac, who helped him stand. “I’m not mentally at my best today, between the pain and the painkillers. So I need to give you a rain check on going over what I want you to do to help me out.
Basically, you’ll be my administrative assistant. As far as household duties, you and Mac can split them as he sees fit.” Mac started to protest, but Sully hushed him. “You will split your duties with her, slave. That’ll give you more time to work on the boat, keep your paperwork up to date, stuff like that. You said you wished you could take the boat out more often. Now you can.”
Mac finally nodded, but he didn’t look totally happy. “Yes, Master.”
With Mac’s assistance, Sully limped down the hall and back to the couch. “You’ll help Mac on the boat as he needs. Mac will come up with a reasonable pay scale for that. For what you’ll do around the house and for me, I’ll pay you two hundred a week cash, and you’ll get free room and board and the car on top of that. I’ll also pay your insurance. Is that okay?”
She numbly nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.” A minimum of eight hundred a month, free and clear, in addition to whatever Mac paid her.
Add that to what she still had in savings, it wouldn’t take long to build a nice nest egg. After six months, she’d have more than enough to afford a small apartment and buy a cheap car of her own.
“I’ll pay you cash so Bryan can’t track you. Once that situation’s handled, I’ll adjust your pay so your after-tax income is still the same.”
“Thanks.”
Mac helped Sully rearrange himself on the couch. Mac started to hand him the lap desk, but Sully waved him off. “No, I think I need a nap.” His face appeared pinched with pain. “Let the pain meds kick in.” He shot a serious look at Mac. “Make a chore schedule of some sort by the end of the day. Doesn’t have to be elaborate, but you will let her take turns with chores.”
Mac reddened. “Yes, Master.”
Clarisse followed Mac into the kitchen. Then he spotted the laundry basket still sitting on the floor. “Well, you could help me with that.” He changed course and she followed him into their bedroom, where he dumped the clothes onto the bed.
It didn’t look like a monster lived here. As she helped Mac fold clothes, she snuck glances around, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary.
That sighting came when he opened the door to their large walk-in closet and flipped on the light. In the corner stood a small umbrella stand. Inside it, an umbrella, two more walking canes, several thin lengths of wood, and a few things that if she had to identify them, she’d swear they were riding crops.
She gulped.
Mac followed her gaze and smiled. “Punishment canes. Rattan.”
He pulled one of the thin, whippy rods from the stand and showed it to her. “Depending on how it’s used it can feel fantastic, or slice the skin open and flay flesh right off the bone.”
“How can that possibly feel good?”
“Turn around,” he softly said.
She eyed him.
“I won’t hurt you,” he promised.
She reluctantly turned.
She forced herself not to flinch when he touched her right shoulder, between her neck and arm, with the cane. “Don’t move.” He started a gentle but firm bouncing rhythm with the wooden rod that didn’t hurt at all. In fact, it felt more like a massage than a maiming.
As she relaxed, he increased the force a little, until she closed her eyes and reached out to the closet doorway for support. After a few minutes, he switched to her other shoulder and repeated the same process until she relaxed so much that her eyes popped open when he stopped.
She turned. “That’s it?”
He slid the cane into the stand. “Did it hurt?”
She shook her head. Hell, it actually felt pretty good there at the end as she’d relaxed and her muscles loosened.