Tymber Dalton - Safe Harbor

I’ll see my cell ring.” Well, that was close enough to the truth to not be a lie. She would assume they were really working out or having sex.

Not that he was beating the shit out of Mac.

“Thanks, Sully.”

He jotted the number on the notepad and left it by the phone on the counter. He shivered in his short sleeves as he descended the stairs. Inside the workout room, Mac had already closed all the blinds and bumped up the thermostat a little to take the chill out of the air.

Naked, he waited, kneeling on the cold tile floor with his head bowed.

Sully saw his flesh pimpled with goose bumps. “Stand up. You’ll make yourself sick.”

Mac complied while Sully locked the door and hooked up his MP3 player. He found his heavy scene playlist, a selection of songs that would help him quickly drop Mac into subspace. With the player plugged into the stereo he cranked the volume loud enough that Clarisse wouldn’t be able to hear anything over the music, but the neighbors wouldn’t complain. It only took him a few minutes to prepare the weight bench, turning it into a makeshift bondage bench.

He stood in front of Mac. “Look at me, slave,” he softly commanded.

Mac lifted his head. His eyes had already started glazing over. It always amazed Sully how quickly Mac dropped into subspace, faster than anyone he’d ever met since their time in the lifestyle.

“Wrists,” Sully commanded.

Mac lifted his arms as Sully fixed first one leather cuff, then the other around them, including the small padlocks.

He pointed to the bench where he’d laid a towel. “Face-down, slave.”

Mac complied without hesitation. Sully quickly attached his wrist cuffs to the straps, the angle spreading his arms wide and tight. Then he knelt behind him, affixed the ankle cuffs, locked them, and hooked them to another set of straps. Spread, his legs were immobilized, leaving his ass an open and easy target.

Sully stroked Mac’s ass. He still bore stripes from the evening before, bruises that would normally heal within a few days. Then he drew back his hand and smacked him hard, on the left ass cheek.

Mac didn’t jump.

Sully leaned in close so he didn’t have to yell over the music.

“Where are you, slave?”

“Green, Master.” Mac’s eyes had closed. Sully knew that he’d already started his withdrawal into his deep place, as they’d dubbed it, where he could let go and deal with whatever troubled him.

It was the only way he could.

Sully quickly stripped his shirt off and grabbed a small rubber ball out of the bag. He pressed it into Mac’s left palm and closed his fingers around it. “Safety, slave.”

“Yes, Master.”

Sully fitted him with the large leather ball gag, an expensive one Mac could safely bite down on and scream through and still be able to breathe without much additional effort. When he finished adjusting the straps, he stroked Mac’s hair. “Where are we?”

Mac rotated his left wrist, their signal for green.

Sully took a moment to stretch and loosen his arms. Then he picked up the mild flogger and started on Mac, from shoulders to ass and back again. As far as their ritual had already sunk Mac into subspace, Sully could have started heavier and Mac would have been okay, but he preferred staying with their usual routine.

After ten minutes, the skin of Mac’s back, ass, and thighs had turned pink. Sully switched to the heavier flogger and continued.

Before long, just from watching Mac’s breathing, he knew Mac had flown over the edge to his deep place.

That’s when Sully picked up the pace. He used the springy riding crop along the back of Mac’s thighs, alternating between slaps with the flapper and stokes with the shaft. Then he laid the punishment cane across Mac’s ass and tapped him lightly with it in warning. With his free hand firmly pressing on Mac’s lower back to hold him in place, Sully delivered the eight punishment strokes, viciously, as hard as he could, two of which drew thin lines of blood.

He immediately switched back to the heavier flogger, focusing on Mac’s shoulders and back, swinging lighter over his kidneys to prevent injury, then down the backs of his thighs and calves while avoiding the injured flesh of his ass. After twenty minutes of this, Sully switched to the other cane. Avoiding the injured flesh, he escalated the power and tempo of his strokes as the music grew heavier and faster until his last several vicious strokes were timed to fall with a crashing crescendo of deep, resonating notes.

The next song was a step down, which allowed Mac time to breathe and recover, a guarantee that if he could make it to that point, he knew the scene would wind down.

Sully would normally use the light flogger, but Mac’s clenched hands and the tears running down his cheeks told Sully that wasn’t necessary. Using his hands and starting with Mac’s arms, Sully slowly massaged his lover, using firm strokes, from shoulders down his back, to his hips. He skipped over his ass to his legs, first one, then the other. Then he unclipped and removed the ankle cuffs and dragged the duffel bag over.

He took his time gently dabbing at the wounds with gauze and antiseptic. Everywhere else in that region, where the brunt of the strokes from the stricter implements had landed, he soothed the hot, reddened flesh with the cucumber lotion. That finished, as the songs turned quieter and gentler, he draped the blanket over Mac and unhooked and removed his wrist cuffs before removing the ball gag.

Carefully, he helped Mac off the bench and onto the floor, where Sully sat cross-legged with Mac curled and lying halfway in his lap.

He took the ball from his left hand.

“How are we, slave?”

Mac shivered and rotated his left wrist, too overwhelmed to speak yet.

Sully held Mac tighter, his arms around him, consoling him as yet another round of tears incapacitated him. It had been a long time since Mac needed a session like this.

They were still sitting there nearly half an hour later. Sully thought his ass would go numb on the tile floor even through his jeans, but he wouldn’t make Mac move until he was ready. Finally, Mac sniffled and drew the blanket a little tighter around him.

Sully twined his fingers in the man’s hair. “You okay, Brant?”

“Yeah.” He rolled over. “Did I get the eight?”

Sully’s mouth curled in a playful smile. “Yeah. Early on.”

Mac blew out a long, deep breath before Sully helped him sit up.

“I don’t remember it.”

“I can believe it. You went harder and faster than normal.”

Mac’s eyes searched his. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

Mac arched an eyebrow at him. Sully loved that inquisitive expression. “I’m not so out of it I can’t tell that my ass hasn’t been reamed, Master.” He added a pinch of sarcastic tone to the last word.

Sully shrugged. “The weight bench isn’t the right height for me to fuck you like that. You want to have to haul me to the ER while you’re trying to recover from subspace because I throw my back out?”

With the blanket wrapped around him, Mac sat back on his heels.

“Then let me do something else,” he quietly suggested.

Sully eyed him, trying to decide if he’d recovered enough or if it was just endorphin-fueled bravado. He stood and unzipped his jeans.

Mac leaned forward and pulled Sully’s cock out, which had grown stiff at the thought of finally seeing a little action. Sully closed his eyes as Mac’s hot mouth wrapped around his shaft, slick as satin and knowing exactly where every pleasure point was located. His tongue stroked and teased him as Sully fisted his hands in Mac’s hair and started pumping deeper.

Mac stayed with him, taking him deep into his throat without gagging. The blanket slid down Mac’s back and puddled on the floor behind him as he gripped the back of Sully’s thighs and held on for balance.

Sully fucked his mouth, harder as his release drew closer. Mac added just a little scrape of teeth, which triggered Sully’s climax.

“Now, slave.” Mac sucked him deeply and swallowed every drop while Sully’s flesh throbbed in his mouth until it finally relaxed, softening.

Sully took a few breaths to regain control, then tapped Mac on the head. “Very good, slave. That’s enough.”

Mac released him with a pop, then sat back and smiled. Sully read the exhaustion in Mac’s eyes even though Mac tried to put on a good show. Sully held a hand out to him, helped him stand, and retrieved the blanket for him.

“Wait for me by the door,” Sully ordered.

He tucked his cock away and zipped his jeans, pulled on his shirt, then quickly gathered their supplies and Mac’s clothes and jammed it all into the bag. He turned off the stereo and lights, locked the door behind them, and slipped an arm around Mac’s waist to support him up the stairs.

“Let’s get you to bed, buddy.”

Mac didn’t argue. Sully sensed Mac’s post-scene crash setting in.

A normal play scene made Mac hornier than a college frat boy set loose in an adult theater. A heavy scene like this emotionally and physically drained him, which is why he’d asked for it.

Tomorrow morning, however, Mac would be ready for action.

He got Mac inside, locked the front door, and guided him to their bedroom. He pulled the covers down before Mac carefully crawled, face-down, onto the mattress.

Sully stepped away from the bed. Mac was softly snoring before Sully finished crossing the room. He quickly stripped and decided to deal with the rest of the bag’s contents in the morning. After using the bathroom, he carefully slipped into bed with Mac and pulled the covers over them. After settling his arm over Mac’s back, avoiding the broken flesh, he quickly dropped into an exhausted sleep of his own.

Sully knew Mac wouldn’t dream that night. He never did after a heavy session. The flood of endorphins sent him into a deep, heavy crash that allowed him to sleep uninterrupted.

And himself too, by default.

He awoke early the next morning to the feel of Mac’s lips wrapped around his cock. Sully smiled and fisted his hands in Mac’s hair. “Did I give you permission to do that, slave?”

Mac made an “uh-uh” sound, but didn’t stop what he was doing.

As he’d predicted, Mac woke up hornier than hell. He always did after a heavy scene despite his body being sore and achy. Sully wished their boat trip hadn’t been interrupted. He’d been looking forward to letting Mac top him and still had an erotic itch their normal activities didn’t scratch.

Mac kept him on edge, holding him back, reading his body, and not letting him come. Finally, he crawled up the bed and kissed Sully.

“Shower?”

Sully hooked a leg around Mac’s and rolled him onto his back, pinning him beneath him with his arms over his head. “What do you want,” he growled. “Tell me and quit dicking around.” He suspected he already knew what Mac wanted.

Mac’s stiff cock rubbed against Sully’s hip. “Just for this morning? Please, Master?”

“Maybe I should make you beg for it.” It’d been a long time since he’d let Mac top him anywhere but on the boat.

“If that’s what you want, I will.”

Sully smiled and sat up. He grabbed Mac’s nipple rings and twisted them. “I should make you pay for asking out of turn.”

Mac eagerly nodded.

Sully laughed and swung off him. “Go get the shower ready, you horny slut.” He waited for Mac to walk into the bathroom. Then he rummaged through his dresser drawer and found one of Mac’s old play collars—one that could get wet. When he walked into the bathroom, Mac was examining his ass in the mirror. Clearly delineated black and blue lines crossed his cheeks and upper thighs.

“Damn. You got me good, Master.”

Sully handed him the collar and went to use the toilet. “You ask, you receive.” When he finished, he faced Mac. “Well?”

Mac grinned and crooked his finger at Sully. Sully smiled and turned, dropping his chin so Mac could fasten the collar’s buckle at the back of his neck. Sully grabbed the key from the counter, unlocked Mac’s collar, and removed it. “Happy?”

Mac grabbed him and kissed him deeply, his tongue plunging into Sully’s mouth. “Not yet, but I will be once my cock is buried in your sweet ass.”

Sully closed his eyes and took a deep, sated breath. He wouldn’t deny he enjoyed this, being able to trust Mac enough to let him take over for short periods. Mac spun him around to face the mirror.