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Tyler Winterman, hero of Ice Queen and Mirror of My Soul, Books 3 and 4 of the Nature of Desire series

Summary: Tyler's interview was a comprehensive and pleasurable experience, punctuated by some interruptions to interact with The Zone staff. And of course Marguerite is here as well!

Originally released on the JWH fan group sometime mid to late 2000s.

Interview

© Copyright 2003 - All Rights Reserved

It was a perfect time of year to visit the Sunshine State. Florida. The spring breakers were nearly all gone, there were still a few months before the tourists would invade by the thousands, and the weather had yet to reach its usual record high temperatures. By the beginning of June, the humidity would give the impression of a sauna every time you stepped outside and the actual temp would chase many residents back into the coolness of their air-conditioned homes. Thankfully though, the summer conditions were still a good month away, perhaps a few weeks, if Mother Nature was in one of her moods and decided to start cooking the southernmost state in the U.S.A early.

“Wow, this sure beats the hell out of the cold and rain up north,” Jaime exclaimed. She, Sandy and Terry stepped through the automatic doors leading from the private aircraft that had transported them in from their Mediterranean island headquarters. Several more of the Femme Fatales of Atlantis followed with enthusiasm and awe as they looked around the tarmac. As they stepped onto a stretch of fine carpet going into the V.I.P. gate of Tampa International Airport, she added, “It has to be at least 70 degrees. Far cry from the 50’s shit we been having.”

“Actually it’s 72 out right now.” Sandy corrected her with a smart ass chirp to her voice and nudge to her fellow Femme. “It’s going to drop down to the high 60’s by late tonight.” Tapping a few more keys on her cell phone, she started to navigate her way away from the weather app and into her email.

“Damn Sandy, we’ve only been on the ground 2 minutes and you’re already beating that phone to death.” Terry laughed. Further jibes came from the others following them through the lavish lounge. They moved from there to an escalator that pointed to bag claim and pick up. “Where is our conveyer belt? You guys see it? One of us should probably call Kat and make sure everything is still kosher. Sandy can you—”

“Terry, slow down!” Jaime chuckled, not surprised that upon arrival Terry, their group founder, was more…jumpy. No big shock there to any of them, considering who they had come here to see. “Our pick up is over there.” She pointed to their immediate left. “And Kat sent me a message about a half hour ago. We were still in the air, but she knew we had to be close.” Pulling out her Android, she quickly went into the inbox and clicked on the most recent message. “She’ll be waiting on us at The Zone. She said to tell you—and I quote—‘Don’t worry, I haven’t met Tyler yet. Wouldn’t see him without you.’”

Jaime was referencing the fourth Mistress of the Boardroom, Katishka, who had come inland earlier in the week to visit family in central Florida.

“She better not have.” Teasing humor laced Terry’s voice.

Sandy snorted. “Don’t worry. We all know that you get first pounce on him.”

The group fell into a series of small talk and more laughter as they gathered their bags. Once all were situated, certain nothing was missing, they proceeded to the flight arrival area where three stretch limos were waiting. “Damn, we need to have Anwyn send us here more often,” Jaime said as she, Sandy and Terry got into the first of the luxury cars and pulled a bottle of Asti from a bucket of ice. She read the small card attached to the neck of the bottle.“Welcome to Florida, ladies. Enjoy your ride and all the top shelf liquors and lavish deserts provided for you and the rest of the Femmes. I am thoroughly looking forward to your arrival. Regards, Tyler Winterman.”

Ten minutes later, all three cars had left the airport and were making their way down I-4 toward Tampa Bay. The sun had already set, but the widely lit highway and city surroundings illuminated the endless rows of sabal palms and sprays of brightly colored newborn flowers coming out of winter hibernation. The last remnants of light showed in the clouds, patches of grey cotton highlighted with washes of blue and small hints of orange, signifying a beautiful day had given way to a gorgeous evening.

After fighting minimal amounts of traffic, the cars crossed onto US 19 and then to the Sunshine Skyway Bridge over Tampa Bay—a stretch of road that extended 5.5 miles from one side of the bay waters to the other. Gentle waves touched the shore lining the bridge, carrying the soothing smell of the water and further illustrating the beauty of their tropical surroundings.

Once within the city limits, the cars pulled up in front of The Zone, the upscale BDSM club Tyler Winterman partially owned and helped to operate.

Sandy glanced toward the constant tapping sound that had been building in velocity as they drew closer to the club. She cocked an eyebrow at Jaime, a silent acknowledgement of the sudden anxiety coming from Terry’s drumming fingertips.

Their founder was staring out the tinted window, fingers hammering the leather seat. She was clearly lost in some sort of understated daydream, about to come face-to-face with the infamous Tyler Winterman, on the other side of those entry doors.

In a swift move, Jaime gave her a gentle kick with her stiletto Mary Janes. “You with us, Terry?

With a shudder, Terry snapped out of her trance. “Yes. Sorry, I zoned out there for a minute.” She looked three shades of pure white.

“We’re ready to head inside. Take a shot of this before stepping out of the car. I have a feeling we’re all going to need it.” Jaime handed Terry and the other ladies a glass of vodka.

As the alcohol wet their throats, sliding down to their bellies, the sensation was somehow prophetic. The pleasurable burn of the liquid reminded them how Tyler Winterman could scorch a room with his presence alone.

Sandy collected the glasses from her forum sisters and placed them back into the car. “All right, let’s do this,” she said, then turned and led the way.

* * * * *
Inside the Club

Kat leaned back further in her comfy chair, eyes glued on the scene below. The male hand on her knee flexed fingers and stroked this vinyl clad portion of her body, nice and slow. The leg she had crossed over the other leaned in closer to his own, dressed in Armani, her matching black stiletto boot heel hooked lightly about his calf. It was a pleasant feeling to share the subtle but intimate contact as they both watched the showing behind the clear glass separation.

The tableau they were watching below had one central figure, a tall woman with silken snow-white hair, her body dressed all in white. Her soft blouse was open at the collar to show the delicate lace edges of a demi bra, and a choker of seed pearls, marked with silver icicles and an angel pendant. The blouse was belted with a silk sash over painted latex pants and boots made of a supple velvet that clung to the woman’s long legs, all the way to mid-thigh. In the back, the velvet was marked from the top cuff to the ankle by a slim sewn line of diamonds, like the sexy line of 1920s nylons.

Because the Mistress was so riveting, it took a moment to realize what she was doing, who she was with, and then the whole scene took over the senses. She’d orchestrated a scene from carnivals of ages past, when the atmosphere at such events was dark and macabre, mysterious. The male submissive suspended before her was upside down on what looked like a trapeze, his legs held to the rope sides by a complex coil of knots that wrapped his legs from ankles to groin. Even his feet were bound, the nylon rope splitting the spaces between his toes. His engorged cock was likewise bound in a harness made of nylon. His hands clasped the bar of the trapeze, his wrists bound to keep them there. Over those bindings the Mistress had wound long, flowing strips of ribbon. Earlier, she’d used nearby open pots of paint to add slashes of color to his limbs, his stomach, his throat.

She’d decorated a female the same way, just across the chamber from him, and set them both to spinning a few minutes ago, making the ribbons ripple and float around them. However, before that could become too disorienting, she stilled them, used the caster system in the ceiling to draw them closer to one another. Binding the two spreader bars together, the shorter one of the female’s on the inside of the male’s, their wrists bound together, brought the two aroused bodies so close, but still unable to touch except at that wrist point.

Then the Mistress set them oscillating on a slow speed with a remote she had in her hand. The ribbons rippled through the air, twisting with them. Amazed, the crowd watched as she moved with easy grace around them, picking up the gauze streamers at the right moment to weave and tuck them in here and there, creating a colorful cocoon inside which their bodies were slowly cinched flush to one another. When the Mistress moved away, she kept them in the lazy spin, but also turned them right side up, like an orbiting planet changing orientation. Slowly, so the blood rush didn’t cause a faint. Her intent gaze never left the face of either sub, her attention on their care obvious.

At the beginning of the session, she’d slid anal plugs into both the male and female, and a phallus with a clit stimulator into the female. Now, satisfied that both slaves were still in good condition, she activated their vibration with another remote control. Obviously released by the murmured command from her, she was allowing them to bring themselves to the climax they desperately wanted, because as the crowd watched, the two began to writhe. The motion set the loose ends of the remaining ribbons flowing again, particularly when the Mistress turned on a set of fans, enhancing the artistry of motion and rhythm as they rubbed and slid against one another in sensual distress.

“She is truly awe inspiring. I’m almost sorry I didn’t bring my LT to take notes.”

A deep rumbling of sexy male laughter came from beside Kat. “Stop thinking so much and enjoy it,” he ordered, that natural Dominance coming through his voice, as well as the firm squeeze to her knee.

“Oh trust me, I am,” Kat retorted. Her own fingers glided over the attractive male sub kneeling beside her chair in standard servile position.

 

The vibration of her cell phone snapped her out of her trance-like state. Reaching under her free flowing shiny vinyl skirt, to the garters holding up her fish net stockings, she pulled the phone free and opened the text message waiting on her.

“They’re here,” she said with a smile.

“If you’ll permit me, Mistress.” Jake spoke from his kneel beside her, eyes still downcast, body bent over enough to gift her eyes with the smooth curve of his perfect backside. “I will greet the Femmes while you finish here.”

Kat nodded. Reaching down the length of his spine, she traced the top curve of his bare ass before she inserted a key to the cuffs that held his hands in place. She released them, and then the thick steel chain from his collar. Fingers hooking beneath his chin, she raised his head up, meeting his gaze only seconds before her lips dropped a kiss on his own. “Get dressed first. You’re lovely to behold, but you might freak out some of the others if show up wearing nothing but a collar to greet them.”

She delighted in the way his flesh rose in goose bumps and the way his lips parted instantly to welcome her attention but didn’t return the gesture. Just let her do as she pleased with him.

After meeting her male Dominant friend’s eyes for approval, Kat reached over, tangled her fingers into the silken blonde head still buried hard up between his legs. Pulling the sub away, she dislodged a cock of considerable size from the girl’s delicate pink mouth, which was now flushed and swollen. Her breath came in short pants, making her breasts heave up and down within the confines of the straps across them. It was the first deep breath she had been allowed since ordered to kneel and take him into the wet cavern of her mouth, holding him there. She’d only been allowed to suckle and clench down on him when ordered to do so by the slip of his fingers across the back of her neck, and he had made her pause and resume, pause and resume, enough to drive her mindless with lust.

Because of that, Kat gripped the long locks of hair tighter, made the glazed-looking sub look up at her. “Set him back straight and go with Jake,” she ordered. It pleased her to see the young woman immediately straighten the expensive fabric of the male’s slacks so they once again lay correctly on his long legs. More reluctantly, she carefully fit his cock back into the pants. When she zipped him up, Kat thought stretching the fabric back over an erection that size had to be excruciating to him, but it didn’t surprise her a bit that he endured it without showing a hint of discomfort. Instead his completely sexy, kissable lips curled into a wicked grin. Anticipation and control, two things that a strong Dominant like himself understood and practiced well, while enjoying every moment.

As the young woman completed her task, she rose, helped to her feet by Jake. He would escort her to the private playroom reserved for her and her Master for the evening while Kat and the Femmes were otherwise engaged. Though Kat knew there would be those who’d really like to get a view into that room, she could tell, behind his lazy grin, her guest was in an intense mood, likely to choose privacy for his more hardcore practices. The blonde better have pretty damn good stamina.

* * * * *

“Whoa.” Jaime nudged Sandy’s arm, directing her attention to the mezzanine overlooking one of the playrooms. “You see who she’s with?”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Sandy exclaimed, seeing Kat next to Ben O’Callahan. “I didn’t know he was going to be here. How do I look? How’s the lip gloss?” She barely contained the urge to go seat herself in his lap so he could take full advantage of her.

“Neither did I...And you look fine. Complete with blow job lips.” Jaime took out her cell and sent a text to Kat, telling her what a bitch she was for failing to mention Ben’s presence in The Zone. “He must be in Florida on business.”

“He is,” came a sensual country drawl from behind them. Jake emerged from the long stretch of hallway, still shirtless but now covered from the waist down in shiny black vinyl that hugged a perfect taut ass and long toned legs like a second skin. The pants obviously had been chosen with care by his Mistress and keeper. The vinyl itself matched her own wardrobe choice for the evening and sported a subtle set of claw marks in the easily ripped material from right hip to knee. The heavy boots he wore stood out under the haze of dimmed lighting thanks to the row of sterling silver buckles fastened up on the outside. Every step he made was surprisingly quiet and undetectable, not something you would expect considering the weight surrounding his feet. A custom job on the soles of the attractive footwear gave him the ability to run and move quietly without risk of falling or losing balance. Given his background, whether he was in submissive mode for his Mistress or not, he was forever ready to spring into action at the slightest hint of trouble and to protect what was his if the situation called for it. That same protectiveness shimmered brightly in his somewhat glazed, but no less beautiful, blue eyes as he surveyed the scene with keen senses, assessing each individual lady with special attention to the strangers coming from this door and that. Habit and instinct kicking in, more so when he spotted Jaime and Sandy.

With an infectious smile that commonly made gawking females pant, Jake hugged the two forum admins closely, glad to see them again, as security continued to check in the rest of the group. As they moved into the club, a couple waitresses were ready to take drink orders and escort them to the private viewing room where the Femmes would watch Tyler’s interview take place. “Where’s Terry?”

“Over there.” Sandy pointed in Terry’s direction. “She’s a little nervous. I think she can smell Tyler within the vicinity.”

“Well, I haven’t seen him myself, but ten to one says that the smooth Georgia accent that came in over the loud speaker system in Marguerite’s playroom before she got started was him.” Kat joined the group, hugging all her forum sisters. Saving her admin buds for last, she gave each a well-deserved slap in the ass. “You bitches are late!”

“Now, now ladies,” said that aforementioned Southern gentleman accent. Only this time it wasn’t coming over a speaker. It was coming from behind them. “Everyone is right on time.”

Turning, the ladies came face-to-face with the subject of their interview. Tyler wore well-tailored slacks, dress shirt open at the throat, the sleeves rolled up to give the impression of casual elegance, though the way the shirt pulled across the broad shoulders, as well as the masculine grace in how he moved, suggested the trained power of the body beneath the cloth. His amber eyes moved over each of them, conveying warmth and individual focus at once, as well as that Master’s ability to log emotion and reaction.

“My god you are totally fuckaliscious,” Kat commented, not a hint of regret in her eyes over her choice of words, no shift of her body betraying her confidence, even as that intense amber gaze met her eyes.

Jaime’s hand on her shoulder reminded her they were in respectable company. “Sometimes you are TOO outspoken.”

“No such thing,” Kat said back, skimming over Tyler from head to toe.

“Someone call Matt, now she’s sizing Tyler up for a paddle.” Sandy said with a roll of her eyes and subtle laugh. "That man is either going to break a cane over your ass or Justin is going to lock you in a padded room till they find a cure for your glitchy hardwiring."

“Oh no, don’t want that one for topping." Kat said back to her forum sister. "He’d be more suited to be naked living art like we had at the Christmas party. Or better yet, displayed in a glass case in my office when I need eye-candy inspiration to work.”

Tyler raised a brow, took Kat’s hand in a firm grip. “Perhaps we can find some similarly inspiring submissives to help you out with that desire. I’m sure they would vie for the privilege. Though Jake might certainly have some thoughts about that himself.” He glanced toward the sub, noting a devil’s glint in Jake’s eye, though the man’s resigned grin said he was apparently well-used to his Mistress’s antics.

Then Tyler’s gaze moved to Terry. Stepping forward, he took her hand, giving her fingers a firm, reassuring squeeze. “Terry, it’s a pleasure to meet you face to face at last.” A slight smile curved his lips when she delightfully trembled and managed to return the gesture.

His attention turned to all of the assembled Femmes. “A pleasure to meet you all, in fact. Welcome to our world. I hope you’ll take full advantage of the club’s offerings while you’re here. The staff, including our employed Doms and subs, are more than willing to meet your needs while you’re here. I’ll be covering the cost of any sessions you decide to enjoy or execute with them. Shall we move to a quieter room to start the interview?”

“Might be a good idea to move somewhere close to the women’s changing room,” Kat said as she noted Terry. “She might need a cold shower by the time this is over.”

“Or sooner,” Jaime whispered in Kat’s ear, giving Sandy a nudge. Laughing good-heartedly at their leader and friend, they followed the staff back down the stretch of hallway and into a room with “Staff Only” written on the doorway.

* * * * *

Tyler takes a seat in one of the comfortable chairs arranged in a glassed-in mezzanine room. It allows a panorama of the dance floor and enhanced view screens of the public play areas. A male and female team of staff submissives are preparing new drinks and bringing around hors d’oeuvres. One attractive female sub with red hair and downcast green eyes kneels at Tyler’s feet with careful precision. As she does, the Femmes note the reason she’s holding her posture so carefully is the clit stimulator she’s wearing. While nearly silent, it is turned to a level causing her intense arousal, obvious because she is wearing nothing but a sleek thong draped with silver chains, a match for her stilettos. The male submissives kneeling to offer food and drink to the others are likewise attired, only in cock harnesses and plugs, stimulating them in a similar way. Their cocks are sheathed in sleek black latex to contain the small spurts of viscous fluid likely coming from the slits.

Tyler takes his time considering the food offerings on the tray before picking up one, along with the glass of the wine the female sub offers. He slides a knuckle along her cheek, a casual approval, and she rises to her feet, moves to the next person.

“I think I need to talk to Kail about hiring a house staff,” Kat observes as one dark-haired male sub kneels at her side and offers up the tray to her. Impressive, she thinks as she notes the considerably large plug inserted into a sweet, smooth ass. Intimately familiar with the light humming sound, she knew the control it must be taking for him to keep absolutely still, free of shivers and shakes that might cause him to topple the tray. Nevertheless, he holds the serving tray perfectly still, moving it only after she makes her selection and thanks him with a brush of her claw-like nails across the back of his neck. “You have an impressive staff, Mr. Winterman. After this interview, you need to clue a girl in on where you do your hiring.”

Tyler inclined his head. “It’s an in-depth screening process, and a three-month probationary period, with regular evaluations. We also have excellent salaries and benefits, so we attract the best in this field. And you can call me Tyler, Mistress Kat.”

“If you hire anyone like this, Kat, I’m moving in with you guys.” Sandy made a choice of food from the tray offered to her. “I could get used to this.” Many ‘Me too’s’ followed her words as everyone got situated and comfortable. “Of course, you better hope Kail doesn’t want any female subs in skimpy French maid uniforms to clean up after the parties.”

Kat cast her a hard look. “Only way he’s getting one of those is if she’s forever strapped into a steel chastity belt and the only key in existence is hidden in the cleaning supply closet.”

Aleah shot her a quizzical look from her seat on the far left. “Why there, Mistress?”

“Because it’s the one damn place in the house I know he never goes and looks through.” Laughter followed her statement. Even Tyler chuckled, raising his glass.

“I can’t argue there, Mistress Kat. Sara, our housekeeper, knows mysteries about my home I will never fathom. Nor do I want to do so.”

More laughter and comments, each and every woman enjoying their hosts company and laid back attitude immensely. Though he never failed to make any one of them believe he was undressing them with his stunning amber gaze when he looked in their direction, he also had a way of making even the more intently nervous ones feel at complete ease in his presence.

After a settling pause, Terry spoke, however. “I’d like to start off, if you’re ready. Tyler.” She seemed to have a moment of difficulty with the informality of his name, flushing when his amber gaze shifted to her. But it was warm and inviting, patient. Clearing her throat, she gave a quick glance around the room to make sure everyone was ready to begin. When she came back to Tyler, he adjusted toward her in his seat, giving a hint of the muscle flexing beneath his casual garb. Such normal, common movements and gestures, yet Tyler made each one look sexy as hell. It was simple fact, proven by the reaction of every woman in the room, suddenly focused on him like a starved cat with the canary within pouncing distance.

First off, Tyler, thank you for having us all here as your guests. We know you’re a busy man. How have things been with you and your pretty wife since we last saw you?

“I’m never too busy to spend time with beautiful, talented women such as yourselves. And we’ve been very well, thank you. Marguerite has taken me to some of her favorite places in Japan and India for tea harvesting and preparation. In return, I’ve taught her how to properly shoot a Desert Eagle and upgraded her already formidable self-defense skills to ninja level, something I’m sure I’ll regret. *gives a quick grin*. Seriously, things have been as perfect as I could wish them to be, without attracting the attention of jealous gods. Marguerite is now renovating and expanding her tea room and the surrounding garden, buying up more property around them. I have several erotic films in process, and The Zone is buying BDSM clubs in several locations across the U.S., revamping them to make them more welcoming venues for those seriously exploring or already practicing Domination and submission. And most importantly *amber eyes twinkle* my orchids are doing beautifully this spring. I may even enter them in the state fair, to Marguerite’s vast amusement. I sent a pair to Marcus Stanton to display in his art gallery, per his request, though I made him pay through the nose for them. Matter of principle, though it amused my friend Josh, also a friend of Marcus’s.”

All in the room laughed. “Hey, an eye for an eye. Bet he made you pay top dollar for the sculpture of Marguerite Josh talked of doing before you two got married,” Sandy said.

Tyler snorted. “That was Josh’s wedding present to me, though Marcus threatened to consider it a breach of his agency agreement. He acted like he’d had a kidney forcibly removed. Which is I’m sure what he would have charged me if Josh had put it up for sale. Bastard.” Though a slight smile on his lips belied the character assassination.

“What’s been the most ROMANTIC thing you’ve done for Marguerite since you two got married?” Sandy asked.

At this moment, Tyler is joined by Marguerite herself. She slips into the room, leaning against the wall by the door, her blue eyes fixing on his. Always rather serious, she gives the Femmes a nod but doesn’t smile. But when he reaches out a hand, she comes to him immediately, taking a seat at his side. He slides his hand on her opposite thigh, resting his forearm across her legs in an intimate grip, his thumb tucked beneath the bend of knee. “She tells me the most romantic thing I could do is admit I’m wrong on occasion.” He smiles at her as she lifts an eyebrow, conveying her total agreement with his statement. “But since that’s not likely to happen, since I promised never to lie to you *tucks tongue in cheek* what do you say, angel? What’s the most romantic thing I’ve done for you? I think that’s more your call than mine, though I have a suspicion what your answer will be.”

Marguerite’s blue eyes warm on him and she nods. “You already know.” Leaning forward, she touches her mouth to the corner of his. He cups the back of her head, holding her there, fingers pressing into that moonlit-colored hair, and his tongue takes a teasing trace of her lips, a dip inside, before he lets her pull back. Giving him a look that clearly says he is the center of her universe, Marguerite rises. But then, without a look at the Femmes, as if in this second, she is in an orbit only with Tyler, she briefly, and with great grace, drops to her knees. She presses her lips to his palm, an act of obeisance and devotion to her Master. When he nods his permission, his eyes fixed on her face, she rises, goes back toward the door. Every movement is sensual art, and Tyler watches her with quiet intensity until she slides back out the doorway.

“She’s not rude, just doesn’t believe in talking if she doesn’t have anything to say,” he explained.

Jaime spoke then. “Of course, no offense taken.” A series of agreeing nods followed her statement from all present.

Shifting his attention back to them, Tyler inclined his head in courteous thanks for the understanding. “But to answer your question, the most romantic thing I’ve done for her? I took her to Disneyworld, here in Orlando. She’s never been.”

At the exchanged looks and sweet sounding ‘aww’s’ all around from the group of women he shrugs, glancing back toward the door. Even though Marguerite has left, it’s like that look can tell where she is, sees through walls, reaches out and connects to her. “When she was a child, the year before things went very badly for her family, her father and mother had promised they would be taking her and her brother to Disney. They’d been saving up for it, so they could go stay on one of the resorts, even though they were well within driving distance to go for the day. She and her brother had been so excited, but of course, things took a tragic turn, and they never went. She’s never really said much about it; I just had a hunch about it one day when she had a father and daughter visiting the tea house. They’d just gotten back from a trip to Disney, and the little girl was telling Marguerite all about it. I picked up on it in her reaction to the child’s stories. With Marguerite, she’s all the mystery of woman, but certain things about her come clear, when the right key is turned.”

He crosses his leg, apparently civilized, but his hand flexes on his knee, suggesting deeper, more dangerous things as he speaks about her family. As if sensing the Femmes’ attention to that, he makes a visible effort to change the direction of his thoughts. “When I took her down Main Street, where you see the Magic Kingdom castle for the first time, she stopped, just frozen. Looked at it for the longest time, barely moving, people moving like a river current around her. Later on, she saw the parade with all the characters, prince and princesses, the performances on the stairs of Cinderella castle. She barely spoke during any of it, though she never stopped wanting to see more and more and more.” Though he doesn’t smile, the emotion is there, somewhat painful.

“When she saw that parade, my angel very nearly cried, particularly when Pluto came up and hugged her. We did everything that day, and it was so much like taking a child for the very first time. She never got tired, was wired to the nth degree all the way through the closing fireworks show, Tinkerbell sliding down the wire from the tip top of the castle. I looked toward her at one point, saw her head tilted back, eyes glistening, the fireworks’ colors sparkling off her hair. I think the people around her were watching her as much as the show. On the way back to the resort, on the ferryboat, she fell asleep in my arms. I had to carry her back to the room, the same way I saw others carrying their children. When I put her to bed, I even saw it in her face, that joyful exhaustion children possess after they have what is, to them, a completely perfect day.”

“That is just about the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” Terry said quietly. She paused before she took charge of the questions again, but now she seemed a bit more confident and eager, an extra brightness in her eyes, lit entirely on Tyler. With amusement, the other Femmes noted that no one else in the room seemed to exist for her at the moment.

When did you first really recognize your dominant nature? Did you have a specific teacher or mentor guiding you when you started to delve into the proper way of caring for a submissive during a session?

“I hadn’t quite identified what it was yet. I knew I had certain undeniable compulsions in my interactions with women, and I seemed to be drawn to women with certain submissive qualities, but I’d not really articulated it as an actual orientation. When I was in my early twenties, I was laboring under the impression the urges I had were somewhat skewed and wouldn’t find a ready audience, except in the scurrilous environments seen on the Internet or in dark corners of the world. But the practices I saw there were the exact opposite of what I was seeking. I knew that in my soul, but I couldn’t explain why I felt that way—why my fantasy of restraining a woman, using pain and pleasure to open her like a flower, was so vastly different than those vulgar images. I just knew they were. Or that I was twisted crazy.

“Then, when I was overseas, I met a young man named Matt Kensington. He’d recently taken over his father’s business interests. Over drinks and lengthy conversation that went on far longer than either of us expected, he gave me his business card and told me showing the card would cover the entry charge to a very exclusive BDSM club in the area, if I wished to visit it.

“I was prepared to find myself in another seedy dive, but that wasn’t the case. The club I visited that night guided the changes I’ve helped make here at the Zone in recent years. However, that’s another story.”

He takes another swallow of his drink. When the female sub comes back with a decanter to refill it, he allows her to do so. There is a noticeable tremor in her hand, and he lays his own over it, closing his fingers over her wrist to steady her. “Are you all right, Christine?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you close to coming?”

Her skin flushes hot, as if the very suggestion is almost enough to push her over.

“Yes, sir.” Her voice breaks over it.

“All right. Hold still. Do not come.” That stern edge to his voice is enough to still her further. With easy competence, Tyler touches her thigh, sliding his fingers beneath that fringe of silver chains to find the clit stimulator. She makes a tiny strangled noise as he adjusts the setting. The stimulator is obviously dialed down, bringing her some relief while still keeping her in a state of tormented arousal.

“Can you resist the urge to come now?”

“I think so, sir. Yes.”

“Will it be very difficult?”

“Yes. But if that brings you pleasure, sir, I will bear it.”

“It will. As it will all assembled here. Continue your duties unless one of our guests makes a request of you.”

She nods, moves away. Tyler turns his attention back to his waiting interviewers.

“At that club, all those years ago, when I sat down to order a drink, I noticed an older woman working with a female submissive. The female sub was obviously new to this, but so nervous and eager at once, emotional, wound up. Trembling.” He taps his fingers on his thigh, eyes thoughtful as he seeks the right description. “The best way to describe it is like the gift of a willing virgin, someone who wants you to be the one to open the door to her sexuality and all the amazing treasures it can bring. I was riveted by her. The older woman noticed. She started asking my thoughts about what would help this submissive learn how to serve a Mistress or Master. As she spoke, I was watching the way the girl responded to everything we said, every nuance of breathing, body language. The way her fingers curled against her knees, every swallow against the collar she wore, every twitch that made the tether held in her Mistress’s hand quiver.”

He shifted. “I've often wondered about the gift I have, to unwrap a person’s mind, figure out their deepest needs and fears. It’s made me efficient in methods of mayhem and destruction. I’ve used that ability in ways I feel are justified and important, for the most part, to protect the wellbeing of others, but to suddenly realize that gift could have a pure purpose, that it could be used to win a sub’s utter trust …it was an indescribable revelation. The older woman, Mistress Lisette, a woman I consider a close friend even today, decided to let me take over the session, under her supervision of course. When I put those manacles on the female slave and she looked up at me, with such trust, anticipation and pleasure, I was hooked… I realized I could use all my understanding of a person’s mind, their soul, what they wanted and needed, to bring them pleasure, an experience like no other, if I let that part of myself have free rein.

“Since that time I’ve found, like artwork, it’s a vast terrain, so diverse in its applications. Every submissive soul is different. Now I feel as if every submissive I’ve ever handled was preparation for my angel, for the challenge of owning the soul of a Mistress, protecting and cherishing it as she deserves.” He looks toward that door again, swirling the drink in its glass as he obviously thinks about the woman who disappeared behind it.

“Years later, I asked Matt what had made him take the risk of exposing his own leanings, giving me that card. He told me I already knew the answer to that, and I suppose I did. The same way we recognize a submissive nature, we often recognize tigers with the same stripe as our own.” Those amber eyes glint like a predator cat in truth.

“And what a couple of tigers you BOTH are,” Kat commented before she could stop the words from slipping past her lips. Not that it mattered, since she had never been one to keep the workings of her mind hidden.

Do you have any tips for someone who might be curious about the D/s orientation?

“Most definitely. D/s can be a vast disappointment to someone who has romanticized it. However, it won’t be if they turn a mirror on themselves, figure out what exactly it is they’re seeking from their exploration of D/s. There are so many levels to this. For some it’s wanting to fantasize about it by reading an erotic romance or watching Secretary, and that’s enough.” A smile touches his lips. “Some only have an interest in light play, to spice up the relationship. We all have some Dominant/submissive tendencies in our personalities, but that doesn’t often translate into a real life, full blown BDSM orientation. For those who feel it in their blood, suspecting it’s an even deeper compulsion, visit reputable online sites and read recommended materials. Take your time, proceed carefully. It’s not a race, and the journey is supposed to be savored. With D/s, it’s almost essential to take that time to understand what you really desire.

“I’ve seen many people come here with a preconceived notion about what D/s is. Whether or not it’s a fit isn’t obvious until they have that exposure. For some, the reality of D/s takes the hunger out of their eyes. They’re ready to return to the fantasy of reading about it or seeing it depicted on the Internet; they don’t want to actually practice it. For others, you can tell the moment they hit the doors, because this trancelike intensity takes over. They’re riveted, quiet, like wild animals who have discovered a new valley, full of everything they could want, but it’s so unexpected to be given that kind of gift, they approach cautiously.

None of those reactions are wrong. That’s vitally important to understand. D/s is an orientation, a feeling in the blood, but D/s practice is something that can be done at many different stages. It’s like girls playing in the shower together in college, versus two women falling in love. One is adventurous exploration, purely for pleasure; the other is a true compulsion that can’t be denied. Both have their own value.

“Very well said,” Jaime commended him. She swallowed hard at the realization that the rumors were true...Tyler’s presence was so smoldering, she desperately wanted to unfasten the top button of her high collared dress.

We all know that there is nothing but trust between you and Marguerite, but do either of ever feel even a tinge of jealousy when you watch each other play with subs?

Tyler gives a dry chuckle. “She’s the bane of my existence. I expect all women are like that to the men who love them. Marguerite is a complex woman. Submissive to me, Mistress to others, all of her wrapped up in vastly emotional terrain. She keeps me on my toes. Testing my boundaries, seeing how possessive a Master I am. That’s something she did far more often when we first came together. Part of the dynamic between Master and sub is learning the shape and strength of the shields the sub can’t seem to remove herself. Yet she wants them removed, so often she’ll test the Master, see if he’s man enough to handle that. I admit, there were times I let the Southern male and the Master come together a bit more aggressively, in order to lay down firmer boundaries. She’s very strong-willed.

“A case in point.” He pursed his lips. “One I think she’ll forgive me sharing, because she trusts the discretion of you ladies and knows the intent of this interview. We ran into one of her submissives at a restaurant one night, one who didn’t have any privacy issues outside the club. She tested me by letting her fingers trail along his shoulder, the hair on his neck when she spoke to him. When we were seated at our table, I did the same to her, began to stroke her neck, tease all that beautiful hair. Then I coiled my fingers into it, held it tight, pulling against her scalp and slid her closer to me. I took over her mouth as I dropped my hand beneath the table, out of view. I put my hand under her skirt and worked her up to climax right there in a matter of moments, no matter how much she tried to resist me. I swallowed her cries in the kiss, but I’d made sure the table was a private one, dimly lit and in the shadows, to guard her modesty.

“Then I made her keep her thighs spread as wide as she could manage through the rest of the meal, my hand high on her thigh, fingertips barely beneath the elastic of her panties, the soaked crotch. She was so wild by the time we got home that night, but I tied her to the bed, held her second climax out of reach for a long time, until she surrendered everything to me. Made her beg and tell me she was sorry for testing me that way.

“It sounds harsh, but it’s what she needed, wanted. As I said earlier, I can read her body language, can tell when she needs me to pull in on the reins and really work her hard, help her feel that structure is there, that it will never fail her. When she’s not challenging me like that, though, the way she is with male subs evolves a different way.

His expression clears. “You saw her deep in her zone, before this interview. She gives a hundred percent of herself to a scene, is fully in tune with the submissive she’s restrained, physically or psychologically. Her goal is complete surrender, taking them to a mindless euphoria, a place she herself sometimes has tremendous difficulty reaching. It’s soaring in the heavens, floating in the stars, the body reaching for a climax of the soul and body both. She is utterly in tune with them, but still…”

He gives a light smile. “Several times during a scene, she’ll touch the collar I gave her. Toys with it. Or rotates her wedding ring on her finger. She makes no casual, meaningless movements. She’s a dancer on a stage all the time, but she doesn’t perform as an act. That stage is where she lives, every movement precise. So when she touches those things, I know she’s thinking of me, making me part of that moment with her, acknowledging the fact I’m watching, I’m with her, that I’m feeling the build. That I’m recognizing as her Master the artistry of what she’s doing. She expects me to be measuring and evaluating what she’s doing, appreciating her goal and the journey she’s taking with that sub. She reaches for that reminder, that she belongs to me, that she’s standing in the palm of my hand where it’s safe and warm and sure, and all she does there is accepted…”

He stops, lifts a shoulder. “So no, I don’t get jealous. There will always be a part of me that doesn’t like to see her touch another male, or see the utter worship she creates in his eyes, but the rest is too precious. I can’t let my baser instincts ruin that. As for her jealousy,” he gives a slow smile, “I rarely have a scene with a sub anymore, unless we’re working one together. I love to watch her, and when the night is over, she knows that she’ll go home to requirements and demands that will--if I’m on my toes as I should be—take her to those clouds herself. Marguerite has needs that require her to interact with submissives. The only needs I have involve her, watching over her, letting her be what she needs to be, helping her get there through whatever methods necessary, to be who she is. Who she deserves to be.”

His gaze shifts at a quiet noise from Christine, back with a tray of truffles. Though he gestures to her to offer the chocolate to the listening Femmes, those keen senses have obviously kicked in, and he raises a brow. “Christine, did you have something you wish to add?”

She colors three shades of red, which apparently just ratchets up the effect of the clit stimulator. It’s obvious she’s fighting the overwhelming desire to writhe again.

“Come here,” Tyler commands.

When she comes to him, he brings her down to his thigh, steadying her with a palm on her bare buttock. A well-trained sub, she automatically spreads her legs, but bites her lip, hard, when he touches that clit stimulator, gives it a casual massage. “If you are going to make faces, you pay the price. What were you going to say?”

“The Mistress…watches you with us. And she does…get jealous. Doesn’t like you touching…any of us. She’s scary as hell. Oh…”

“Oh, a woman after my own heart,” Kat said with a smile, inwardly agreeing with Marguerite’s described way of thinking.

Christine’s hands clenches on her tray, the two wine glasses on it wobbling precariously. Tyler automatically takes the tray from her, handing it off to another attendant. “Is that so? Hmm. I’ll have to give that some thought. Christine, I want you to go put yourself on your hands and knees in front of that trio of Mistresses over there.” He nods to three of the Femmes. “They’ll decide how best to punish you for speaking out of turn with those expressive eyes of yours.”

She nods dutifully and rises, moving off with an obvious pained shuffle, trying to hold her climax in.

The group of gathered women watch as the young, attractive sub does as she’s told without delay, kneeling on the floor before Mindy, Lady Heather and a rather new member to the Atlantis staff, Musette.

“Kat can I borrow your crop?” Mindy asked, eyes intent on the kneeling woman before her, even as she extended a hand toward the admin Mistress. Kat politely lays a black laquor stick, no longer than a pen, in her hand. The thick leather end is soft patent and properly broken in, the crop itself folding out in three clicks, making it a good three feet long. “What do you say, Mistress?”

Kat considers Christine a moment, taking in the deep flush to her skin and the way she obviously fights against the impending orgasm, threatening her hard won control. No sight was ever so sweet as one so aroused and determined to please. Raising her right hand, Kat looks at the black diamond cut watch on her wrist that had been thoughtfully borrowed for her, just for this trip to The Zone to meet Tyler. “It took her eight minutes to leave this room, and come back with defiance and a tray full of truffles. So, eight lashes to those pretty cheeks should do it, and I’ll add in two more of my own when you ladies finish, if Tyler is fine with that,” she adds, a glance at Tyler to confirm, since he had determined only three to begin with.

“It’s a joy to watch you work,” he assures her, the lips set in a firm line as he studies the disciplining of a sub with the same intensity as the other Mistresses in the room. The Femmes of a more submissive leaning have gone still and watchful, eyes wide, lips moist, obviously aroused by the sight as well, from a different but no less intent perspective.

Mindy went first, followed by Lady Heather, each one selecting one of two perfectly round cheeks to strike with the crop. Each strike shook Christine’s already quivering form, soft yelps that were almost sobs coming from her slightly parted lips. “You don’t have to hit her hard,” Kat instructed Musette, when the whip was passed to her. “Her nerves are already raw and on end from that stimulator, and her own eagerness to please. Every inch of her by now is extra sensitive to any touch.” The new Femme nodded and landed the last two blows, one for each cheek, with perfect finesse.

“Look up at me, darling.” Taking back her whip, Kat dipped the end of the crop under the woman’s chin, using it to raise her downcast gaze. Kat smiles kindly as she notes the held tears, the wet corners of the pretty sub’s eyes. She’d even managed to hold those in through her well-deserved punishment. Thumbing the wetness away for her first, then the sharpened ends of her claws passed down the soft expanse of her cheek. “I want you to crawl to your Master’s feet as you are now, on all fours. When you get there, lay your upper body on the ground and keep your ass high in the air. Legs spread as wide as you can manage without losing your balance.”

Christine’s eyes widened a moment, becoming round as saucers, but still she complied with hesitation.

“You get two more strikes,” Kat reminded her with a passing brush of the now warm leather end of the crop, once the woman’s ass was upturned and high in the air. “After each one I want to hear you tell your Master you’re sorry for your defiance.” She waited till Christine nodded, offering her backside up without thinking twice. “All right now,” Kat prompted, only because she had no intention of landing the strikes on that lush, red ass. Had she she wouldn‘t have bothered with the warning. “Say it loud enough for all to hear, and hope that Tyler believes you when you say it. Otherwise, it won’t end here.”

Sliding the crop between Christine’s widely spread thighs, Kat used the leather end to caress her partially bared pussy, stopping where the clit stimulator still hummed. Letting the end drop down from her about three inches, before it hurriedly came back up, spanking the stimulator. It forced a sharp cry and an immediate “I’m sorry” from Christine. Tears ran freely from behind her tightly closed eyes and onto Tyler’s expensive shoes as Christine fought her climactic response.

Kat landed the last strike just a tad harder, rubbing the leather against the stimulator to both ease the sting and increase the press of it to her clit as Christine sobbed another “sorry” to her Master.

Tyler bent, stroking her hair along her temple, curling it around the delicate ear as Christine pressed a fervent kiss to his shoe. “There you are,” he murmured. “Very good girl. I expect after that lovely display, once the interview is over, one of these Mistresses will take pity on you and let you come. I’ll leave that up to them. Go back to serving. No glassware, though. Only the finger foods.” He settled back, looked back toward Terry, who was a little glassy-eyed. “Next question?” he prompted gently.

Jaime’s eyes widened at the display. “I can’t even concentrate,” she decided, handing the clipboard of questions off to Sandy.

Have you ever been in a situation where a sub that you have played with more than a few times catches more feelings then she or he should for a Master? What do you do?

“I think most Masters and Mistresses in club environments experience that at times. It’s not much different than a vanilla person sharing a conversation with a likely date in a bar and realizing, down the line, that person is not for them. You learn the courtesies of polite withdrawal, try to be kind but firm about it, and let it go at that. There’s a tendency to think D/s relationship dynamics, the base foundation, are so different, but really, there are many similarities. I had a beautiful, lovely submissive before I met Marguerite. That sub wished our relationship could have been more. I did, too, for a time, but then I realized it wouldn’t be. I made that as clear as I made any other aspect of our relationship as Master-sub, gave her the choice to withdraw or proceed under the terms of an amicable friendship. She stayed with me awhile, but it wasn’t enough, so in time, she formally requested to seek another Master. I of course released her, and still have the greatest of affection for her.

“And yes, you may guess who she is, but I won’t name names. A gentleman doesn’t do that. Though, in terms of the earlier question of jealousy, she is one with whom I’m very clear on boundaries, because Marguerite does have a few issues with her.” He flashes a devastating grin. “Mac wants me to encourage it to the level of a cat fight, but I’m not that brave.”

Do you have regular subs or do you like mixing it up?

“Except for occasional situations like Christine," his lips quirked, "I don't have that particular need anymore. Sometimes Marguerite and I choose to perform together as Doms, using one or more subs as part of the session. We do come to The Zone quite a bit, but neither of us picks a sub as much as we once did. We often come merely to watch others perform, study and appreciate technique. Sometimes we seek our own private session together with the club’s facilities and resources.

“Now before her, my answer to that question varied. At times, I’d pick a sub out of a club environment and hold an occasional one-on-one session with her, but nothing consistent. Over time, I became more monogamous, actively seeking submissives with whom I could explore a more long term relationship. However, after my wife died, it wasn’t until I met Marguerite that I truly had a desire to find a permanent commitment again.

“Now as far as Marguerite, when she is in a mood for a sub, she’ll choose one or more submissive partners for the evening, as you’ve noted. When we arrive, she moves through the club, those blue eyes studying, missing nothing, and she’ll light on just the right submissive, the one emanating the particular need she wants to enhance, exploit, expand to an explosive level. When she finds him or her, or both, she always turns to me, meets my gaze, ensures that she has my approval.

“There’ve been a couple I’ve vetoed. Just the wrong energy for her.” He shrugs. “Most of the time she picks well, but if she’s had a bad week, some nightmares, she can go to some dark places, and I don’t want her to get lost there. She acquiesces with good grace, most of the time, unless she’s seeking a fight. Then we definitely take our interaction to a private playroom.” His eyes flash with a bit of humor, but also dangerous, sensual threat as well.

How many parties do you have on your local estate (big and small intimate)?

I have several a year for networking purposes in the film industry and my other business interests. Never too large, because those things are not useful if they’re too big. Less than a hundred people. We of course have the big BDSM Carnival once a year as a benefit event, and that can have a few hundred attendees, depending. For my own pleasure, I prefer small groups. Marguerite and I of course have informal dinner parties for non-D/s friends, like Komal, Natalie and Tina, or Gen and Chloe. And sometimes we even have our D/s friends come for non-D/s cocktails, dinner and overnight stays, particularly if we can get Violet and Mac to bring little Daisy.

Of course, now that Chloe and Brendan are together, they sometimes get invited to our intimate D/s parties, where we have perhaps a dozen trusted friends and practitioners from The Zone come for the weekend and immerse themselves in D/s play with our unique resources. Naked sub water volleyball remains a favored pastime.” He smiles. “Of course while Marguerite is submissive to me, her role at those events varies, depending on the situation. She might be Mistress to one of the loaned subs, but comes to play with me one-on-one when she reaches a level of arousal where she needs my touch to release. No naked sub volleyball, though maybe if she’s really bad, one day I’ll make her play with several of the other female subs and fulfill a couple girl-on-girl fantasies of mine and the other male Doms. Though I might get smothered with my own pillow later that same night.” He laughs.

Where is your and Marguerite’s favorite place to vacation and why?

Honestly? Home. We’re both very well-traveled, but for so long neither of us really felt “home” anywhere. When I moved my current house from Georgia to Florida, it lacked the heart and healing it needed to truly be my permanent home again. The moment Marguerite became a part of it, it did. About once a year, we spend a week all by ourselves there, send Sarah and Robert, our permanent live-in help, off to exotic trips to the Caribbean or wherever they’d like to go. For a week she and I will do whatever we want. We wander the grounds, sleep in the chapel, swim naked together in the pool. We watch old movies in the home theater, make love in there. It’s a glorious isolation. We’ve fallen asleep on the back lawn and woken with the sunrise, having a breakfast of the previous night’s bottle of wine and pizza. We’re adult kids, immersing ourselves in each other and whatever indulgence we desire.

Is there one rule that you and Marguerite have as a married couple (that you can share)?

Total honesty. It’s a quality bandied about when talking about marriage, but rarely practiced, because it’s very, very difficult to do. As a Master, I won’t let her hide any emotions from me, and as a very intuitive Mistress and my submissive, she loves me too much to let me hide mine. So we stay open to one another about our wants, needs, our feelings about pretty much everything. It means that we sometimes step on one another’s toes, that we fight, but we also weave ourselves closer and closer to one another all the time, until I feel like sometimes we’re standing in the same space, breathing in the same air, and that melding feels perfect, like wind across grass. My apologies—a little poetic license happening there.” He shrugs. “But I won’t tolerate her lying to me, ever, and she quite rightly demands the same from me. I want to be as deeply in her soul as I can be. I don’t think I can ever get close enough to her.”

There are so many bad and possibly dangerous (poorly managed) BDSM clubs out there. Do you ever think of expanding to outside of Fl and hire smart responsible Masters & Mistresses?

As noted in that earlier question, The Zone has been expanding, franchising, so to speak. It’s an excellent investment in terms of income, but I have a vested interest in providing safe and pleasurable environments for people to explore their D/s interests. While I don’t think D/s needs to be a “cause”, I think that effort helps upgrade the image, eliminates some of the misconceptions; like the idea that everyone who practices D/s is some type of sex offender deviant. BDSM can attract destructive deviants; no doubt about that. But that’s another benefit to expanding these clubs, because they don’t allow those who have destructive tendencies, those who have no place in D/s. It’s like legalizing prostitution – a great many of the ills and criminal element that attend prostitution, endangering both the prostitutes and their clients, would be greatly reduced or even eliminated if the environment was made safer, the communication clearer and more professional.

How do you know Ben?

Through Matt Kensington. Over the years, I’ve invested in some things with Matt, and gotten to know his team pretty well. I was around when Ben was brought on board with the K&A team. He’s one of the savviest lawyers I know, and a hell of a Dom to watch when he chooses to be public with a sub. In some senses, he’s a little disturbing, a little scary to a lot of subs, because he’s got an almost obsessive intensity. He puts a sub on a roller coaster ride she can’t halt until he’s damn good and ready, but she can’t deny it’s a screaming thrill when it’s all over.

“On the personal side, he’s a good man to have in your corner, no matter the situation.” Tyler’s brow creases. “There’s a dangerous side to him, something that the former government employee in me recognizes. I wouldn’t ever underestimate his determination or capabilities. But some part of me feels like it’s time for him to find his permanent submissive. I think he needs the anchor, because as he’s getting older, some of that intensity is unraveling a bit. Don’t tell the subs,” he winks, since there are plenty of subs in earshot, “but the Masters and Mistresses really need the anchor of a good slave at times. That devotion and loyalty is as necessary to who and what we are, as it is to them.”

Jaime snickers and leans into Terry. “Did you see Kat’s head snap at the mention of Matt’s name? She’s far too predictable when it comes to Kensington.”

Terry chuckles. “I know. I nearly fell out of my seat.”

“So who snuck the Ben question into this interview?”

“My money is on Saint Maria,” Terry says.

“Funny, I’m going with Sandy on this one,” Jaime said.

Sandy gives them a sideways glance and a half-lipped smile at the friendly wager. Leaning closer, she joins the two women with a murmured, “I can hear you.”

How are Mac & Violet doing?

“Loving being parents. Though since they have ready-made babysitters – Gen and Chloe fight for the chance, and Komal, Mr. Reynolds and Tina are close runners-up—they still visit the club and come to the D/s parties at our home, though not as frequently as before they had her, of course. They love spending time with their daughter, and I can’t blame them a bit. It’s why we have weekends that aren’t about D/s, so they can bring her and we can all hang out like extended family.

“Mac is staying home with Daisy for the first few years, and then he’ll go back to detective work once she starts school. Violet will go to part-time work then to be home in the afternoons with her. It’s a little worrisome for them both, because of course their jobs aren’t always the safest, but being cops is in their blood, and the best message you can send kids is to be true to who and what you are, and make the world a better place with that resolve.

“I think it still amazes people, even in a D/s setting, the way the two of them interact. Mac is so pure alpha, it’s interesting to sit on the sidelines at The Zone and watch club attendees realize he’s not there as a Dom, but serving his Mistress. There’s an intriguing push-pull between them. I guess I can relate to that myself, because there’s definitely that element in Marguerite’s and my interactions. For whatever reason, both Violet and I sought submissives who are very untypical submissive types – an alpha cop, and a dedicated Mistress. And we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Do you baby-sit?

Tyler laughs out loud at that. “Oh, absolutely, though I’m not sure you can call taking care of Daisy baby-sitting. It’s more like waiting attendance on a princess. She has such a serious, solemn way of looking at you when she wants you to do something. “I’m waiting. Why haven’t you met my needs yet?” But it’s not a spoiled thing. She doesn’t have a mean or selfish bone in her little body. But she’s got her mother’s imperious Mistress look down pat. I told Mac he’s serving two Mistresses now, and he doesn’t deny it a bit. Though God help whoever tries to date that girl.” Tyler rolls his eyes. “She has two cops for parents, and Marguerite and me for godparents.”

* * * * *

As the Femmes digest that answer, Marguerite slides back into the room. Giving the assembled ladies another courteous nod, she moves with her confident, graceful stride toward the couch. However, instead of taking a seat next to Tyler again, she goes back down to her knees, lowering her gaze, though the Femmes do notice her speculative glance at Christine, confirming what the female submissive had hinted. It’s as if she knows Tyler’s hand has been on the girl, no matter that it was a functional, instructive manner, and she is making certain the girl knows she’s aware of it. Then her lashes sweep down. Tyler notes the exchange as well, such that when he touches her shoulder, he slides his fingers through her hair to give it a tug. His voice is warm and sensual, though, promising to use this new bit of information about her possessiveness to their mutual advantage. “Ready to go, angel?”

When she nods, murmurs “Yes, Master,” it’s in that way that once again suggests everything has been shut out of her awareness but her total attention to him. The readiness with which she came to him and knelt also suggests this is a familiar closing ritual for them toward the end of their evening at The Zone. Tyler rises, confirming it.

“Ladies, it’s been a pleasure.” He nods to the Femmes, gives Terry an extra smile, a parting press of her hand. Winking at Kat, a reminder of their earlier exchange, he adds, “Please do take advantage of the facilities and all its available occupants tonight, as long as you wish. My angel is done overseeing the aftercare of her subs and wants to spend some time together tonight. And when it comes to her desires, I’m as much her slave as Master. I’m sure you understand that.”

While his expression is warm, all Southern gentleman, his intent amber gaze has come back to Marguerite. He’s obviously already imagining how he’ll be spending the evening with her.

Thank you for coming, and I wish each of you a wonderful evening.”


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