Safe Harbor by Tymber Dalton Page B

another relationship for a long, long time. If ever.
    A blue VW bug had parked next to them. Mac caught her looking at it. “What?”
    “I’ve always loved those little cars. I’m going to save my money and buy me one in a few years. I wanted one, but Bryan hated them.
    He bought me a Chevy, said it was practical.”
    Mac studied the car. “Practical, huh?”
    “Yeah. He despises foreign cars. His dad owned a Chevy dealership before he retired.” She stared at the car until he started the Jag. “Now I can get whatever the hell I want.” She laughed. “Well, I have to get whatever I can afford. But when I can afford one, I’m getting one.”
    When they reached the nursing home, Clarisse checked and refreshed her makeup in the car before they returned to Uncle Tad’s room. They had a great dinner and a nice visit. By the time they left, Clarisse felt exhausted and close to collapse. At home, she bid the men good night, went straight to her room, and closed the door behind her.

     
     
    * * * *
     
     
    The men made sure Clarisse was sound asleep before they headed for their bedroom. Sully closed and locked their door, hooked his MP3 player to the stereo in their bedroom, and set it to a mix he liked to play to. He tweaked the volume up just a smidge.

    55
    “Do I need to use a gag?” he asked Mac.
    Mac had already stripped and replaced his silver necklace with his collar. He’d fetched the rattan punishment cane and knelt on the floor, head bowed, waiting for Sully. “No, Master,” he quietly replied.
    “How many do you owe me?”
    “Five for letting me wear shorts, Master. Then my outburst on the boat, talking back to you on the boat, and my outburst in her bedroom.”
    Sully studied him. “It shocked both of us. I commend you for wanting to protect her. How many do you think I should give you?”
    “Normally you give me twenty-five for talking back. So that would be seventy-five in addition to the five.”
    Sully was glad Mac had bowed his head and couldn’t see his eyebrows arch in surprise. “Why that many? Explain your rationale.”
    “I talked back. The outbursts are the same as talking back.”
    “So you’re willing to take eighty strokes?”
    “I will take as many as Master gives me.”
    “What if I say I’m going to give you a hundred?”
    “Then maybe we do need the gag.”
    Sully picked up the cane and touched it to Mac’s exposed ass.
    Mac didn’t flinch, didn’t tense. Sully knew he expected it to start at any time and was ready for it. “On the bed, ass over,” Sully softly commanded.
    Mac immediately complied.
    Sully waited, drawing it out. Then he quickly delivered eight viciously hard blows in rapid succession, harder than he would normally strike, impacts that immediately raised welts on Mac’s ass and came damn close to drawing blood.
    Mac tensed, but he didn’t cry out.
    Sully walked over to the dresser, picked up a bottle of cucumber lotion, poured some into his palm, then sat on the edge of the bed and lovingly applied it to Mac’s flesh.
    “That’s all you’re getting.”

    56

    “Thank you, Master.”
    “Do you want to know why I gave you only eight?” He knew Mac wouldn’t ask, but he had to be curious. Usually when Sully told him he should give him a certain number, that was the number he finally delivered.
    “Yes, Master. Please.”
    Sully gently worked the lotion into Mac’s skin. “Five for the shorts. And five every day you decide to wear clothes at home, automatically, until you decide you should go naked again. One stroke for talking back, one for the outburst saying you’d go with her to Ohio without asking me first, one for the outburst in her bedroom.
    Hard because you were willing to take a hundred for your actions.
    Fast because I didn’t want to torture you.” He applied more lotion, feeling Mac relax under his hand as it soothed his flesh. “I’m proud of you for wanting to protect her. I just want you to be careful. You know I won’t