“She knows Mac’s a pain slut,” Sully quietly added, “and she was eager to see how far she could go. Mike can’t take heavy impact play, and she wanted to try it.” He looked at Mac. “You’re the one who agreed to play with her. I told you it was your choice. I also gave you the option of letting me red light the scene, if you’ll recall, but you said you wanted control of it.”

“Yeah, and next time I insist on that, feel free to smack me in the balls and remind me of Yvette.”

Clarisse shivered. “You won’t let her do anything to me, will you?”

Sully stopped and turned her to face him, his face dark, his voice serious. “No one ever touches you but Mac and me. That’s a promise.”

As they walked, another man stopped Sully to ask him a question.

Clarisse leaned in to Mac. “What’s a spit roast?”

He laughed as he nuzzled her ear and whispered, “One of my favorite fantasies starring you as the center, watching Master fuck you while you suck my cock.”

She gasped, her knees nearly melting out from under her at that mental image.

Mac chuckled. “You okay, sweetie?”

“Yes,” she squeaked.

Question answered.

“You okay? You wanted an honest answer, right?” His evil, playful grin told her he knew exactly what effect his words had on her.

“I’m okay.” Just hornier than hell.

Sully finished talking to the other man and they continued their walk to the end of the building.

The men, Ray and Oot, rummaged through two duffel bags. A nearly-naked woman, wearing only a leather harness, knelt nearby waiting on them. Sully introduced Clarisse to the men. Ray had gorgeous hazel eyes and apparently natural blond hair from the looks of it. Oot’s coal black hair was spiked, and his light blue eyes sparkled with good cheer. From the collar around Oot’s neck, Clarisse suspected Ray called the shots.

“Are you sure you packed it?” Ray testily asked.

Oot rummaged through another bag. “I know I did, Master. It’s got to be here.” He started emptying the bag, pulling out riding crops, canes, floggers, and other assorted items.

“Oh, here it is,” Ray said, pulling a small device out of his bag.

“Sorry about that, buddy. It got caught inside a towel.”

Oot sat back on his heels. “I thought I’d lost my mind for a minute there.”

Ray grinned. “You mean you haven’t?”

The men laughed. Ray stood while Oot repacked the duffel bag.

Ray motioned for the woman to stand.

“Come here, kitten.” He fitted the device into what looked like a ready-made place on her harness…right between her legs. When it started humming, Clarisse realized it was a vibrator.

“Don’t you come until I tell you to, or I’ll redden your ass. Daddy Saul gave me carte blanche with you this weekend, girlie.”

The woman moaned and shifted from one foot to the other as she struggled to comply.

Ray turned back to Sully and Mac and shook hands with them and Clarisse. He stood a little shorter than Sully.

When his eyes landed on Clarisse, they skirted up and down her body, the obvious questions in his gaze remaining unasked. Instead he said, “Any plans for the evening, or just here to socialize tonight?”

“Going to play it by ear for a while. My girl’s never been to a play party like this before.”

A ball of heat rolled through Clarisse at Sully’s words, the possessive tone in his voice.

His girl.

Sully and Ray chatted for a few minutes before Sully led her and Mac away. He handed her over to Mac. “Go get her changed.” Then he walked off to talk with someone else.

Put-up or shut-up time. She looked up at Mac, although with her heels, their height difference wasn’t as pronounced.

He smiled and slipped his arm around her waist. “Let’s get you changed.”

The changing room was mostly empty. Clarisse felt heat redden her skin again as he led her to their locker and pulled out one of their bags.

“Keep the shoes on and slip your skirt off,” Mac said.

Easier said than done. She tried not to wobble as she worked to wiggle the snug garment off. He knelt in front of her and tugged on the hem, then let her use his shoulders to brace herself as she stepped out of it.

He laughed. “What’s this?” He hooked a finger under her plain cotton panties and tugged a little.

Her face had to be a dark shade of magenta by that point.

“Underwear,” she shot back. “What do you call them?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Off.”

“You can’t be serious!”

His face softened. “I won’t force you. It’s your choice.”

Her heart raced as he stared at her. If she wanted a chance to do things their way, she’d have to do things their way. She still wore more clothes than over half the other attendees anyway.

He stood and leaned in, his mouth near her ear. “Master and I promise no one will touch you but us. I swear it.”

It wasn’t just that, although that made up a large part of it. Then again, after seeing some of the party attendees she actually fell in the middle of the range in terms of body types. There were women—and men—much larger than her wearing much less and apparently completely comfortable with it. From the way they walked around, they obviously didn’t feel self-conscious, so why should she?

She closed her eyes, hooked her thumbs in the elastic waistband, and pulled them down. Mac knelt again, letting her brace herself on him. She didn’t open her eyes until he’d pulled the other skirt up her legs and into place. She felt a cool draft of air touch her admittedly damp sex.

When she dared open her eyes, Mac had stood and was smiling.

“You’re beautiful, sweetheart,” he whispered. He helped her out of the corset. When she moved to cover her breasts with her hands, he gently grabbed her wrists and pulled them away, bent in, and licked her right nipple, then her left.

He smiled. “Worth every fucking stroke and then some.”

He helped her with the halter top, fastening it for her. Then he stepped back and admired her. He grabbed her hand and placed it on the front of his jeans. She felt his large, rigid cock clearly outlined against the denim and straining for freedom.

“That’s what you do to me, babe,” he whispered. “No other woman here tonight does that to me. Next time you think about putting yourself down, you think about this.” He squeezed her hand, molding it around the shape of his stiff member. Then he let her go, grabbed both duffel bags, and led her back to the play space.

Sully was chatting with Alex when Clarisse emerged from the changing room with Mac. She couldn’t read the look that passed across Sully’s face, the mask that dropped into place.

Tottering across the floor on Mac’s arm, she nervously stood in front of Sully and tried to decipher his expression. He held out his hand to her.

“Let’s go play, girl,” he softly said.

After an anxious glance at Mac, she put her hand in Sully’s and let him take charge of her. She stepped away from the safety of Mac’s side.

“Can you trust me?” Sully softly asked.

She didn’t have a choice. “Yes, Sir.”

He smiled as he stroked her cheek. “Good girl. Your safeword is red. If you say that, everything stops immediately. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He laced his fingers through hers and led her to what looked like a long trapeze bar. He nodded to Mac, who walked over to the wall and flipped a switch. A motor hummed to life and the bar descended a little, but still hung almost two feet above her head.

Sully stood in front of her. “Slave, bring me the suspension cuffs.”

His eyes never wavered from hers.

“Yes, Master.” Mac rooted through one of the bags and found what Sully had asked for, then presented them to him.

They didn’t look like the leather wrist cuffs she’d seen Mac wearing. They were different, heavily padded and with an attached, short metal bar running the width of the cuff.

As he strapped the first one onto her left hand, she realized the metal bar was a handhold built into the reinforced restraints. She could wrap her fingers around the bar and hold on.

“Suspension cuffs,” Sully said, answering her unspoken question.

“I had to order a smaller pair. I figured Mac’s would be too large.”

He strapped the other one on her and had her check the fit.

While Sully did that, Mac clipped two straps to the bar. They dangled from the bar, ending in unusual-looking snaps.

“Take her shoes off, slave,” Sully quietly ordered. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her as Mac complied. She closed her eyes and enjoyed his gentle kiss, soft and sweet, not as passionate as Mac’s had been at the store, but taking her focus off her nerves and anxiety.

When she stood barefoot in front of him, he lifted her left arm and clipped it to the bar, then tightened the strap to remove the excess slack. He repeated the action with her right.

Her heart thrummed in her chest.

“Reach up with your fingers. Feel the snaps.”

She did. What felt like no slack was actually just enough she could easily wrap her fingers around them.

“Pull down on the snaps,” Sully ordered.

When they came loose, it startled her. Mac put his hand in the center of her back to steady her. Good thing she wasn’t in the heels or she’d have tipped over.

Sully smiled and reconnected her. “Panic snaps. They release even if under tension. I wanted you to see that.”

It did settle her a little to know she wasn’t totally immobilized.

She trusted Sully and Mac to stop if she used a safeword, but knowing she had the power to get out if she wanted reduced her nervous tension.

The concrete floor felt cool under her feet. Sully stood before her and grabbed her chin, tipped her face to his. “Do you want to play, girl?” he softly asked.

She nodded.

His grip tightened. Not painfully, but authoritatively. “Say it.”

“I want to play with you, Sir.”

He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. “If I ask you how you are, you say green, yellow, or red. You call yellow or red at any time you need to, understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He stepped away for a moment, then moved behind her. Mac took Sully’s place in front of her, standing so close she felt heat radiating from him even through his clothes. His brown eyes smoldered with passion.

Then she felt Sully’s hands on her waist, his fingers gently raking her bare flesh between the skirt and top. Over her hips, across her ass, along her thighs. On the upward journey, he caught the hem of her skirt and pulled it up to her hips, exposing her.

She blushed.

Mac touched her chin. “Look at me,” he whispered.

She did, unable to look away if she wanted to.

Sully slowly caressed her legs, her ass, and traveled up to her hips.

When he pressed his body along her back, she knew she didn’t imagine the hard bulge she felt through his jeans. His hands skimmed around her waist, to her belly, and pulled her tightly against him.

“I’m going to play with you, girl,” he rumbled in her ear. “I want you to trust me. There will be a little pain, but I promise you a lot of pleasure in return if you take it for me.”

She shivered in his arms. “Okay.”

“Rest your head against my shoulder and close your eyes.”

She did.

“Keep them closed unless I tell you to open them.”

His hands skimmed up her tummy to her breasts, where he cupped his hands around them over her halter. His lips feathered along her neck, teeth gently nipping and grazing her skin. She felt a second set of lips brush across her collarbone, down her neck to between her breasts.

Mac.

Sully’s hands lifted from her breasts. She felt the halter being unlaced and opened. Sully’s hands returned, his fingers finding and tweaking her nipples, pinching them between his fingers, rolling them until they were hard peaks. Her hips involuntarily gyrated against Sully, wanting more as tingles of heat shot straight to her clit.

She softly moaned when Sully stepped back, allowing cool air to brush against her flesh. He slipped a blindfold over her eyes as Mac’s fingers replaced Sully’s on her nipples.

Sully gripped her ass in his hands and squeezed. “I’m going to start here, girl,” he said. Then he smacked her with his bare hand. Not hard, but enough to make her jump.

Mac stepped up his efforts in front of her as Sully spanked her.