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.
“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?”
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.
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 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.