Mac rotated his left hand even as his hips thrust in empty air, his cock rigid and nearly purple.
Sully adjusted his position and started regularly timed strokes.
Mac cried out, cried, shivered. Clarisse cupped the back of his neck with her hand, cradled his head on her shoulder as best she could, tried to soothe him as he screamed with each stroke.
Sully stopped after a few minutes. “Step back, girl,” Sully softly ordered.
Reluctant to let Mac go, she did. Sully walked around the front of Mac and grabbed his chin. “Surrender yet? Want me to continue?”
He rotated his wrist.
“Say it!” Sully yelled at him as he released Mac’s chin.
Mac’s head hung, sweat dripping from him. “Green,” he muttered, his voice slurred.
Sully grabbed Mac’s hair and pulled his head up. “Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck you! Green!”
Clarisse gasped, worried. Mac’s answer seemed to amuse Sully though. He ruffled Mac’s hair and kissed him. “Have it your way, slave.” He returned to his position behind Mac, waited for Clarisse to resume her position, and viciously started in on him again. Mac screamed, strained against the restraints as tears ran down his face.
Each blow ripped another ragged howl from Mac. Before long, he was swearing at Sully and calling him every filthy name in the book and then some as he yanked on the restraints.
But he didn’t safeword. Sully dished the insults back to him as good as he took them, interspersed with taunts to safeword.
Mac’s standard response to that: “Fuck you! Green!”
He was still screaming when Sully stepped closer and, almost without missing a beat, switched to a riding crop and locked eyes with Clarisse.
He pointed to the floor.
Still stunned from what she’d witnessed, she dropped to her knees in front of Mac and swallowed his cock, wanting to give him some measure of enjoyment.
Sully yelled, “Come now, slave!” He savaged Mac’s ass with rapid-fire blows.
Mac’s hips bucked against her face as his cock swelled and his hot juices exploded from him, pouring down her throat almost faster than she could keep up. When he went limp in the restraints she worried he’d passed out, but Sully was already there with a blanket, wrapping it around him, supporting him. He pulled Mac’s blindfold off.
Sully face was an unreadable mask, his voice hoarse. “Good girl,” he whispered. “Help me unhook him.”
She jumped to her feet and ran over to the switch to lower the bar so she could reach the straps. Mac cried, sobbing in Sully’s arms.
When the bar was low enough for her to reach, she unhooked the straps. Sully draped Mac’s arm over his shoulders and his own around Mac’s waist and half dragged the larger man away.
“Bring our stuff,” he called over his shoulder.
She quickly gathered their things and ran after them to the dressing room.
Sully had Mac seated on one of the benches. He was slumped over, his head in Sully’s lap, no longer crying but he shivered.
Clarisse hadn’t put her shoes back on yet. Sully glanced at her.
“Please bring me a bottle of water.” She ran for one and brought it to him. Sully twisted the top off and cupped Mac’s head in one hand, lifted it enough he could place the bottle against Mac’s lips. “Drink, buddy,” Sully ordered, his tender tone the polar opposite of the one he’d used during the vicious beating.
Mac took a small sip.
“No, Brant,” Sully said. “More. You need to drink.”
Mac finally did, then rested his head in Sully’s lap. He still didn’t open his eyes.
Sully nodded toward one of the duffel bags. “There should be a pair of shorts and a T-shirt in there. Get those, please. And a towel, and the zip-top bag with the ointment and stuff in it.”
She found them. “Where do you want them?”
“Bathroom.” Once she placed the items on the counter in there, Sully carefully nudged Mac to his feet and guided him into the bathroom.
He closed the door. She felt her heart fall at being shut out.
Sully called out. “Clarisse?”
“Yeah?”
“I thought you were right behind us. Come here.”
Her soul lightened as she stepped in with them and locked the door behind her. Mac stood, albeit dangerously swaying on his feet and leaning on the counter for support. His eyes were still closed.
“Get the harness off him, babe,” Sully quietly ordered.
She did, working by feel under the blanket and trying to be careful of his back. Sully peeled the blanket up and let out a low hiss.
“Fuck, Brant. Why the hell didn’t you safeword?”
“I didn’t need to,” he replied, his voice still sounding slurred.
Clarisse started to look. Sully touched her shoulder and shook his head. “Not tonight, babe. Sit on the counter and let him lean on you.
Keep your eyes closed.”
She did. Mac wrapped his arms around her waist and put his head in her lap. She buried her face in his hair and didn’t look as Sully removed the blanket from him and did something. Mac grunted in pain a couple of times. She guessed Sully was dressing his wounds.
Sully grabbed her hand. “Hold this.” He placed her hand against Mac’s back. She felt something under her fingers. “It’s safe to look.
He’d draped a large nonstick dressing across Mac’s back and affixed bandage tape to hold it in place. Angry welts and red marks were visible around the outer perimeter of the bandage.
“So his shirt doesn’t stick to him,” Sully explained as he secured the dressing. “The ointment will help prevent infection.” He grabbed the T-shirt, carefully pulled it over Mac’s head, and she helped him get his arms in it. Then Sully slowly rolled it down Mac’s torso, being careful not to dislodge the dressing.
He picked up the shorts and tapped Mac’s right leg. “Lift.”
Mac obeyed. Sully repeated it with his left and gingerly slid the shorts up Mac’s legs and into place. “Stay here with him. I’ll be right back.” He left the door open as he rummaged through the bag and found the cane, crop, and whip he’d used. He wiped them with antibacterial wipes and then put them away in the bag and packed the rest of their gear.
He looked through the bathroom door. “Can you handle the bags, sweetie?”
“Yeah.” She brushed her fingers through Mac’s hair.
Sully shoved her shoes into one of the bags, put his own shirt back on but left it unbuttoned, then grabbed the blanket, and draped it over Mac again. “Come on, Brant,” he said. “Time to get you home.”
Mac finally opened his eyes. Sully helped him straighten up and supported him while he walked. Clarisse followed them. She grabbed the bags on the way out the door and they made their way through the dewy field to the Jag.
Sully led Mac around to the rear passenger door. “Shit. Honey, the keys are in my left front pocket. Can you get them?” His left arm was hooked around Mac’s waist.
She fished around, found them, and unlocked the car. “Put the bags in the trunk,” he said. “Get your purse out so you have your license.” He helped Mac into the backseat and slid in beside him. Mac immediately leaned over, put his head in Sully’s lap, and fell asleep.
Sully buckled his seatbelt. “You okay driving?”
“I’m fine.”
He pulled the back door shut as she opened the trunk to get her purse. A moment later, she was adjusting the Jag’s seat, mirrors, and steering wheel. When she glanced in the rearview mirror, she could make out Sully’s form in the darkness. He had his arms around Mac and leaned over to kiss him.
Without another word, she started the car and slowly made her way down the driveway.
She thought she was nearing the interstate when Sully spoke. “Do you remember how to get home?”