Sandy finds Ben at the secluded waterfall site of the Atlantis getaway island. While he has a glass of Chardonnay on the table next to him, he’s sitting up on his lounge chair with the laptop between his knees, his feet braced on the ground on either side of it. As he scrolls through a document, he’s making notations. He’s also on a call via the earpiece he’s wearing. He’s wearing a pair of tight swim trunks, but they’re only visible because the loose jeans he’s pulled over them are unbuttoned at the waist and riding low on his hips.

She’d have been surprised to find him alone, except the Atlantis staff told her during the previous evening he’d availed himself of two of their submissives, paying for full evening sessions that left both girls with sore muscles and an exhaustion that would excuse them from duty tonight. When she tracked the girls down for background research for her interview, Sandy found neither was complaining. In fact, Anwyn had to firmly insist the two were taking the evening off, and Ben had solicitously concurred. According to Anwyn, he’d suggested it might be best to provide him four this evening, so he didn’t overexert another pair like that.

In contrast to the two exhausted but happy women, he looks alarmingly energetic, particularly as he notes Sandy’s approach. “That’ll cover us for now. I’ll call you back. It’s time for my interview. And she’s sure as hell prettier than you.” Something said on the other side of the line makes him flash a wolfish smile. “Now what fun would that be?”

Though he’s wearing Aviator-style sunglasses that accent the strong line of his jaw and the feathers of dark hair over his brow, giving him a black Irish bad-boy look, he tilts his head so his emerald green eyes flash over the edge of the rims. As a result, she can see him studying her intently, everything from the curves of her body to the way she walks, touching on the Blackberry she’s carrying with her questions.

“Lucas,” he explains, tapping the ear piece before he removes it and sets it to the side. “He told me to go gentle with you. But you don’t look a woman who wants the gentle type, do you, darling?"

Sandy pushes her sunglasses back so her bangs don’t obstruct her view of this hot emerald-eyed specimen of pure male. Ben reminds her of a panther studying his prey from afar. This would probably intimidate most women, but not Sandy. She welcomes the intense appraisal, as it makes her heart race and her mind begin to play. She knows that Ben is a man that holds knowledge of many things. But right now she only cares about the animal she senses below the surface.

The sheer shock of what his voice does to her system makes her pause and lift her left eyebrow. Pure sex flows out of his mouth as he speaks. Being a little too comfortable so soon, Sandy says, “Honey, it takes a lot to break me. I’m not sure that I do break. Gentle hands are for the timid and for children. One, I might be many things, but I can assure you that one of them is not timid, and two, I am not a child.” Looking at Ben O’Callahan’s reaction, Sandy knows she has her work cut out for her. Not a physical challenge, but more of an emotional one. Oh this is not good. I hope I can at least get most of the questions out of the way before all control is lost.

He nods toward the waterfall, though his attention remains on her, such that it feels like he’s taking her vital signs, measuring every response. “There were some lovely slaves here, just a little while ago. They looked like mermaids, though when they dove underwater—which they were doing pretty often to tease me—the brazen hussies, they had pretty, heart-shaped asses and neat, glistening little cunts instead of scales.” Sliding the glasses off, he gives her a direct look. “So, you remember my conditions for the interview? When this is over, you and I are going for a swim. I think that’s a fair trade. I give you what you want, and then I take what I want. Agreed?”

His gaze sharpens in a way that reminds Sandy she’s dealing with a Dom that Anwyn classified as Extreme Hardcore. As if he reads her mind, he adds, “Think carefully before you say yes, darling, because I’ll hold you to it.”

With that look of pure business, Sandy is thinking YES PLEASE. The damn school girl in her is screaming, “I can play mermaid and head into the water right now. Clothing is not optional.” Oh, how she wants to use her mouth for more than just talking.

He flashes her a deceptively disarming smile, the charming lawyer back. “Either way, I expect you’ll still get me to answer some of your questions. Particularly if you get rid of that sarong over your swimsuit and lay down on this lounger next to me. They left me some excellent warming oil, and I think I’ll do a better job with the interview if I have the pleasure of touching soft skin while answering.” He nods toward the chair, and his voice takes a different tone, direct, firm, as he might sound in the board room when he’s taking the lead on an acquisition negotiation. “On your stomach, darling. Now. And then you can ask any question you want…as long as you have breath to do it.”

Sandy’s heart is racing a mile a minute, but she has been trained to control her breath and her body language, so that too much is not given away. However, she has a feeling that Mr. O’Callahan, Ben is well versed in pleasure as well as pain. It is like he is the connoisseur and she is the aficionado. “My breath is not what I’m worried about. I would hate to have to call the on-staff paramedics. I hope you can keep up. I was told that you had both hands full last night.”

He laughs, a sexy, smooth sound, his eyes glinting with appreciation—and challenge. “Ah, darling, I’m not like most men you know. If you can handle a little bit of rough language, I’ll tell you that enjoying a slick pussy and a sweet, tight ass all night energizes me like a shot of straight adrenaline. I aced my state boards the first time, after thirty minutes of sleep and doing four willing and generous co-eds the night before.” He gives her a wink and gently pushes her down onto her stomach, teasing her neck with fingers cool from his chilled wine glass. Deftly, he flicks open the back of her bikini top and begins to apply the heated oil.

Sandy looks back at Ben and with a smirk says, “Now that is something that you do not see on resumes.” She winks at him and begins to scroll on her Blackberry.

As he rubs it in with strong, massaging circles, it feels as if he’s learning the lay of every muscle and the bones beneath. Gauging not only how much they can tolerate, but what type of touch creates the best response from her whole body. When he follows her spine with his thumbs, his fingers spread out over her rib cage. Then he dips into the small of her back, his thumbs sliding just beneath the band of the bikini bottoms. He stops there. “First question?” he prods, with a thickness to his voice, a trace of humor. “If you stop asking questions, darling, I’ll stop. And you don’t want me to stop.”

Sandy: What made you go into Law?

Ben, using his thumbs, teases the shallow dimple at the top of her buttocks. After that brief, provocative touch, he works his way back up to her shoulder blades, just as slowly. “It’s like Fight Club with words. Getting into an acquisitions deal… Well, there aren’t many places a man can still be a man, lay his dick out there to measure it against the other lads, but that’s one of them. Knowing that both sides have prepared for a fight, and your weapons are your arguments, and what you anticipate that the other side doesn’t…it gives me a charge. I like to win a fair fight. Lucas says that’s the Irish brawler in me.” He curls one hand into a fist then, kneads in between her shoulders, creating a delicious relaxation of the muscle layers there. Then he spreads his fingers out again, leans forward, his oiled fingers curving over her bare shoulders. They ease around her throat, holding her there with light but immovable pressure as he continues in a murmur. “When the other side surrenders, I want it to be their choice. They might not have come into the fight seeing things my way, but at the final bell, if I’ve played the game right, they know I hold all the cards, and I know how to play them for the best interests of all of us.”

In a position to gaze over her shoulder at her Blackberry, his hands tighten slightly, then relax. “I see you’ve been doing a little pre-interview reconnaissance with Janet, Matt’s admin.

Sandy can see Ben in her peripheral vision. “I had help from our historical expert, Doris. She can find out anything deeply hidden, ancient, or she can find the source that will give us the answers we need.”

“That might up the ante of our deal, because I’m sure I didn’t agree to that.” His hands cruise back down, this time along the outsides of her breasts, bare above the open swim top, then to the nip of her waist. He grazes her hips, then moves straight over her thighs, his fingers teasing the seam. “Part your legs for me, darling, so I can put some oil on that delectable light caramel skin between them.” As Sandy complies, he continues, “As Janet told you, I do volunteer as a court advocate for foster kids. As she also told you—Matt really needs to gag that woman—I was one. A foster kid. So, big shock, I do it because I know what it’s like to be lost in the system, with no one to speak for you. I got past that, overcame it, but it helps a hell of a lot when you have someone in your corner, in court for you. Being a kid, being helpless at any age, it sucks. I won’t be there again, and I like making sure others aren’t as well. Now, let’s move on.”

Despite the serious edge to his words, he has no trouble dividing his attention between that and sensual torment of his interviewer. In fact, Sandy seriously considers that he’s doing it to move her away from the difficult topic. As he speaks, he spreads the oil high on her thighs and then moves under the elastic at the legs of the swimsuit, kneading the buttocks with slow, probing fingers. “A lot of women don’t cover this area near the edge as well as they should, and they burn that lovely strip of skin, because of course when they walk, the swimsuit rides up and shows that tempting lower curve of their ass cheeks. Love the way they quiver as they walk, the way the suit creases from the movement in all the right ways. Always makes me want to take a nice, healthy bite.” He bends then, and she feels the graze of his teeth on the right curve, a not-so-gentle nip, then he smooths his fingers back over the abused spot. “It also makes me think of how many of them go without panties the next day, because the burned area is too sensitive, like after a good spanking with a paddle. Janet could probably use that,” he adds darkly.

As he’s rubbing oil there, his thumbs are coming perilously close to another sensitive crease between her thighs, but instead of going lower, he goes higher. His thumb slips between her buttocks, stroking the warming oil along that intimate area. “No matter what you might be thinking about me because of that foster kid shit, it would be a mistake to think I’m a nice guy, Sandy.”

Sandy’s ear piece, small enough to remain unseen and carefully placed just outside the delicate ear canal, comes to life with Kat’s voice.“He may not be a nice guy, Sandy, but in my experience the males who actually voice that fact about themselves are the ones who are the most in need of love and want to be loved.”

Loving the feel of Ben’s strong hands massaging oils along her thighs and ass, Sandy almost forgets herself and has to swallow a moan that yearns to come out. “Ben, we are all nice when it matters. How did you become associated with Matt Kensington and K&A?”

“When I was nine years old, I picked Jonas Kensington’s pocket.” Though he laughs at the memory, Sandy hears something beneath it, something a bit raw. She notes Ben has picked up his sunglasses and put them back on again. “He was a big bastard, and passed those genes on to Matt, of course. Used to play professional football, so he plucked me right off my feet by the collar when I tried to run. I’d been in foster care for a while, and I was on the streets, preferring that to being someone’s monthly government check, punching bag or charity case.”

“Keep probing him, girl. He’s hiding from more than just the sun’s rays behind those shades.” Kat speaks over the communication device. Sandy knows her and three other Femme Fatale staff members, Iva, Jo and Mai, are watching the interview unfold from a second story balcony.

“Very observant.” Now Anwyn’s sultry, female purr comes in. She’s patched in from Club Atlantis on the mainland, allowing the three-way call. “I wonder if he wears the glasses for the same reason you do, Miss Kat.”Anywn’s all knowing, nothing-much-gets-past-me voice gives Kat, Iva, Jo and Mai a moment’s pause in Sandy’s ear.

Kat: “Touché, Anwyn.” Kat says it with an easy smile that she knows Anywn can’t see, but no doubt can decipher, even being an ocean away and on a telephone. She inwardly applauds Anwyn’s gift of perfect perception. And of course, Kat finds it no coincidence whatsoever that she herself happens to be wearing her own trademark mirrored aviator shades that actually lean more towards a man’s style accessory. At times the Atlantis club owner and creator of the Femme Fatales could be downright frightening.

Tapping her own ear piece again Kat motions for the other three’s continued silence as Ben goes on with his answer to the latest question.

[Back to Ben] He shrugs. “Celeste De Mille--that’s the nom de plume of the Baton Rouge gossip columnist that likes to talk about us way too much – she slapped us with that crazy Knights of the Board Room label. After one particularly aggressive takeover I handled, she called me Matt’s Artful Dodger. She said I basically picked the company out of the CEO’s pocket.” His lip curls. “She didn’t know how accurate that was, or maybe she did. She digs into things a little deeper than she should. The guys harassed me about it, so I bet them I could convince Celeste not to write another single thing about us. A thousand dollar bet on the table from each of them to support the court advocacy program. I caught up with her in her favorite night time hangout.”

He gives Sandy a dangerous wink when she turns her head toward him. “She found out that it’s far more pleasurable to stay on my good side. I found out, like most naughty girls, Celeste has a craving for punishment.” When he glances toward a hamper that has been left by the staff next to his lounger, Sandy notices there’s a damp towel rolled up in there. “Having to sit still on her elbows and knees, her sweet pillow ass in the air while its being popped by a wet towel and her pussy filled by one of Jon’s death-by-orgasm vibrators… She started saying she was sorry pretty quick, and promising never to write another word again if I’d let her come…” He considers Sandy’s Blackberry. “That might also work on a nosy interviewer. Maybe I’ll use a similar tactic to extract a promise that you’ll never go asking questions where you aren’t invited, hmm?"

Sandy: Is it work hard and play harder or vice versa?

“Oh, you bet your ass, darling. Of course…” Those hands are back under the bikini bottom, stroking the curves of flesh there. “I think you already have.” He nods to the laptop. “The work we do takes a lot of hours, a lot of commitment, and when we’re not doing that, we do a lot of community things. That’s Jon’s influence. He’s big into the karma shit, kind of a pansy about it, but that’s okay. We all believe in working hard, enjoying the money we earn, but also balancing that out with time and money toward those trying just as hard to win their battles.” Gives a shrug, and for a moment there’s a different kind of expression on his face again. “I bullshit about a lot of stuff, and part of why I’m good at what I do is because people don’t know the difference between the bullshit and the truth until I leave them in the dust at the finish line. However, I won’t ever bullshit about this one thing, not to anyone. Jonas Kensington saved my life that day, and his son gave me a life worth living. Whatever Jon thinks we need to do to help others that way, is fine by me. But we’ll still give him shit about it.” Chuckling at that, he pours more oil on his hands, this time adding a touch of something from another bottle that looks alarmingly like some type of hot sauce. “As far as the play harder part, it goes back to what I was saying about my state boards. Nothing helps me work out the kinks at the end of the day like going to the club or meeting a sub private in my home and giving her a really good work out. I like spanking, flogging…paddles are probably my personal favorite, the kind that are flexible and can leave an impression if one’s been carved into the rubber or the wood. I put a nice imprint of Bad Girl in Celeste’s ass that night. Bet she carried that around for a few days."

Sandy: On average how many women do you see a week?

“Being a bit shy now, aren’t we?” He’s gone back under the swimsuit bottoms and now he’s working that oil and sauce directly into the tight opening there. As Sandy starts to squirm, he tightens his grip on her. “No you don’t. You keep that pretty ass of yours completely still. Just feel what I’m doing to you. I think what you meant was how many women do I fuck a week?” One thumb dips in a little deeper, rubs, while down below, his index fingers glide between her legs, introducing the warming oil to her pussy, a tingling, arousing sensation that’s making it very hard not to move. “I have several regulars at Club Surreal, that’s the Baton Rouge club we frequent. We meet up once or twice a week, as time allows. Then I have other women friends I take out on my arm when we have to do the dog-and-pony shows. Sometimes the two mix, most times they don’t.”

As she squirms, his voice becomes a bit rougher, more demanding. “I’m being exceedingly gentle at the moment, darling. Normally, I’m not at all. I won’t ever hurt a woman, never cause her pain in a way she doesn’t embrace, but I’m not a soft Dom. I like taking a woman right over the edge, forcing her wide open. I like it when she loses consciousness and she gets to wake up in my arms with that dazed look in her eyes, like she’s had an out-of-body experience.” Though he gives her that dangerous smile again, the look in his eyes suggests there might be some element of that which answers a deep-seated need of his own. Maybe he likes that moment when she does wake in his arms, that moment of total dependence and intimacy. Sandy suspects that Celeste probably considered it one of the most challenging and memorable dates of her life, and privately wonders why it is that Ben doesn’t seem to want many repeat performances with women outside of clubs. So, treading into more intimate waters, she asks, “Do you mind sharing your woman?"

“Don’t know. Never had one of my own. I borrow them for a night or two, then give their charms back to wherever they want to bestow them. But…” He considers it more thoroughly. “Okay, let’s say I ever get bit by the same malaria that’s bitten the rest of the boys. You know, two or three decades from now.” Abruptly, he slides an arm beneath her stomach. His fingers settle back on her throat again and he tilts her head back to look up at him, the eyes hidden behind the shades, the mouth a firm line. “If I considered a woman mine, then that’s what she’d be. 100%, every inch mine to play with, mine to make scream with pleasure. I wouldn’t mind seeing her go crazy in the hands of the K&A boys, but only if I was part of it, calling the shots. Only if she was crystal clear on which Master she answers to. I’d make sure she was very clear about that.” That flash of teeth, only this time it’s more like fangs. When he dips his head, the green eyes she glimpses have gotten far more still and brilliant. Then he eases back, the momentary intensity gone as if it had never been. “But that’s not going to happen anytime soon. That’s not what I want right now.”

Sandy: What would you say is your ideal woman? Is there one? Have you put any thought into it?

“You’re really pushing into intimate territory, aren’t you?” He lifts the wine bottle out of a picnic basket to refill his glass and courteously offers her one. As he does, Sandy notices there are other things in that basket. Several rather ominous looking plugs, as well as something with wires. He glances at it. “That’s an electrical stimulator. Putting the pads around the rim of a woman’s rectum, and giving her tiny jolts while you do the same to her clit…drives her crazy. It’s something Jon cooked up but I didn’t have a chance to use it last night. I was thinking of trying it on one of my mermaids before Lucas called me with a few questions on our latest deal, and then it was time for our interview. So you might have to be my test subject, hmm?” He slides back onto the lounger then, bracing his bare feet and closing the laptop. “Stay just like that, darling. On your stomach, legs parted. I’ve got your swimsuit pushed up nice and high so I can see that pretty bottom of yours. You can feel that fabric teasing between the cheeks, can’t you?”

Sandy looks over her shoulder with mischief in her eyes. “Yes, and I am glad you like my bottom.”

He grins, appreciating her. “Well, then, prop up on your elbows to look at your Blackberry, and lift those nice breasts right out of your open bikini top, so I can see just how hard your nipples are. Could be they need a little oil, too?”

Sandy nods. “I’m sure they want attention, too.”

He hands over the bottle. “Rub this on while I watch and I’ll answer your question. Take your time and pinch them some. That way the oil gets into all those fine little creases as they tighten up.”

Sandy’s left eyebrow lifts with a sarcastically flirty expression. “Is this Puppetry Of The Breast? I know the show Puppetry Of The Penis. Am I putting a show on for you now?”

“As much as I am for you. You keep smarting off to me, darling. That’ll make things all the more fun.” As he leans back in the chair to watch behind the dark glasses, he catches hold of the chair above his head, his biceps curving and bare chest and stomach muscles tightening. Though he’s wearing the jeans over his swimsuit, it’s clear he’s aroused, and heavily endowed, thicker than anything in that basket. “Eyes on my face, darling,” he says with amusement. “We’ll get to that a little later, when you’ve earned it.”

He sighs as Sandy gives him an expectant look, the bottle poised in her hand. “Playing chicken with a Master, hmm? You’ll pay for that later.” But as she maintains the look, he shrugs again. “All right, then. You’re not going to let it go, are you? My ideal woman? I really hadn’t thought about it much until this past year or so, when the others of our group have been pairing up. Much as I hate to admit it, seeing what they have kind of gives a guy the bug. But if you print that, I will wallop your ass so you won’t sit down for a week, because I’ll never hear the end of it from them, got it?” He gives her a stern look, but then he touches it with a light smile, so she’s not sure if he means it or not. Then he sobers.

"And since we’re going for the off-the-record, I’ll maybe give you a little bit deeper thought on it, just because I’m relaxed and in the mood. You can decide later what’s bullshit and truth.” He winks. “What I said earlier, about considering her mine? My ideal woman is one who has the heart and soul of a true submissive, one that really grabs my attention and won’t let go. One that can stand toe-to-toe with my scariest demands and beg for more, such that I won’t let anything hurt her or take her from me, so that she becomes my most cherished possession.”

For a moment, it’s as if his intensity had affected the air around them, making it thick and weighted. As if realizing it, he looks away, his jaw tightening, then he gives a harsh chuckle. “So yeah, I’ve been thinking about it some. No real time table there…I’m happy to keep doing things the way I’m doing it, but…” He gives her an arch look. “There’s no rubbing going on, darling. That’s better. Yeah, sweet, large nipples, just like I thought. Wait until you feel hot sauce on them.”

Sandy stops for a second and looks at Ben, giving him a chuckle, and then continues to rub.

“I can tell you want more of an answer, though. Since you’re putting on such a nice show for me, I’ll give you more. I have plenty of submissives I enjoy at the clubs, but there’s something… Well, with Savannah, Cass and Dana…there’s this feeling. It’s like they challenge the hell out of Matt, Lucas and Peter, and yet there’s this perfect fit thing as well. I don’t think you can itemize that, because until I saw each one of them, I couldn’t have said who was the right, permanent woman for each of them. But the moment I saw them, yeah, that was it. That ideal woman…” he muses, a bit of a feral smile baring his white teeth. “She’ll put up a hell of a fight, I think, and won’t be at all what I expect. As I said, I love to win, but I want to earn the win. I think she’ll be the one who might just make me…see winning in a whole different way. And maybe I won’t feel…” He shakes his head then, takes a sip of his wine. “We’re all of us trying to fight some kind of shadow. Sometimes, seeing all of the other K&A guys pairing up…it makes me feel a bit on the outside. But then I see another sweet ass, ripe for the taking”—his gaze courses over Sandy’s and the careless grin returns as if the darkness had never existed—“and that feeling goes away.”

Sandy: Why the gluteus maximus/butt/ass?

“Times are changing a little bit, but for the most part, women are still pretty private and shy about that part of themselves. It gives me a chance to delve into territory they’ve never considered. It goes to the heart of subservience, a Master taking you there, and opens up a lot of emotional terrain. I may not have a woman I call mine, but as a Master, for however long I’ve got you, you ARE mine, and I’ll peel you open. I’ll give you a glimpse of heaven, but I’ll see the depths of hell in your soul to get us there. People are so closed off, closed up…I guess it goes to the lawyer thing. I want to go for the kill in the courtroom, and for the soul in the bedroom. Even if it’s not my soul to keep.”

Sandy smirks as Jaime’s voice breaks through her ear piece. “He can peel me open anytime. I know this interview is supposed to be short and sweet, yet it’s anything but. This is one of those tests, Sandy. I know the kind of game he plays, the long, drawn-out foreplay that gets him off. If I were you, I’d let that cat keep on chasing.”

“Pfft...He’s not even your type. Last I checked, you preferred the kind with sanguinary appetites. Besides, I see exactly where this is headed. She’d better kiss her ass goodbye,” Mar says.

Sandy thinks Mar has her confused for Jaime. "We all know Jaime is the only one strictly into vampires. The rest of us love our men in whatever form. Sanguinary appetites.”Sandy grins to herself. There is a special vampire that Jaime would love to have sink his teeth into her.

JC chuckles at Mar’s outburst. “How long do you think this interview will continue?”

Jaime laughs. “I have no idea, but I think the next time we see Sandy, she’ll have a noticeable limp and one hell of a kiss-and-tell story.”

“Well at least she’ll have first-hand experience,” Terry chimes in.

“I don’t think it’s her hands that will be gaining experience,” Mar adds with a laugh.

Sandy (trying to focus on the next question and not laugh as well): “What makes you a great ass man? And do not tell me to ask the women you've been with.”

“I’m very thorough. But I’ve been doing a lot of talking, and I think it’s time to demonstrate.” Setting the wine to the side for the moment, he squats beside Sandy’s lounger. She has a moment to wonder what he’s about to do before he peels the bikini bottoms off her ass completely, pushing them down to her thighs with a firm, decisive movement. That warming oil and spiced additive has made the feeling between her cheeks slick and sensitized, and when he parts that area with his thumbs, and picks up the wine glass, she knows what’s coming. The wine slips in that crack, and his thumbs massage her there before he bends to drink, sipping the wine from that valley, then following it up with his tongue, a gentle, teasing stroke that sets nerves on fire, even as his hands tighten on her thighs, holding her still, until she’s gasping. The Blackberry flips off the chair from her thrashing hands, but Ben catches it deftly in one hand, laying it aside before resuming what he’s doing. He doesn’t stop until she’s pretty sure there are shooting stars spotting her vision, her body so near climax that one touch would do it.

But he doesn’t give it to her. He sits back on his heels, presses a napkin to his mouth, leaving a burgundy stain from his lips there. “A few more moments, and you would have gone over for me. But we’ll save that for later as well. I’d rather do that inside of you. Though I love fucking a woman’s ass, I never forget the whole woman. I love not only her pussy and her tits, but every inch of her soft skin, the way she breathes, the way she talks, how she puts on her perfume, what kind of panties she chooses, how her thighs slide together when she walks. Since women are often most uptight about being stimulated in the anal region, by the time I get to it, I have her engaged at every level, so she relaxes and offers that to me as shamelessly as she’d offer her pussy when she’s hot and begging for it.”

Smiling to herself, Sandy wonders if any wine slipped inside her pussy. Licking her lips, she enjoys the feeling of it being extra soft and slick. Fuck! I am going down. Though I did last longer than my fellow Femmes or I thought I would. Gold fucking star for Sandy. Now she gets to play. Breathe. Thank Goddess, he did not slap my ass after his sip. It would have been over then.

Sandy: Besides your cock, what is your favorite instrument/tool/toy to use one a woman? Does it depend on the female?

“It does depend a great deal on the female. I want what will stimulate her senses the most. My cock is a quite a bit larger than the average.” He says that offhandedly, without ego. “So to be honest, that’s really the instrument I prefer most. I like getting her to trust I won’t hurt her beyond bearing, and helping her find the pleasure in the burn. I like the way her heart flutters in a bit of a panic, even as her eyes round and she moistens her lips, those subtle signs of arousal. It’s like coaxing a fawn to take food from my hand. I will use a variety of plugs to loosen up a shy woman, one who’s a virgin to it, starting with my fingers and tongue and going from there. For the most shy ones, you can start with oil and a wash cloth, just getting them used to it.” He stops a minute, pondering. “Actually, on that note, I’ll say my favorite instrument is her own fingers. I like to close my hand on her wrist and guide those slim, pretty female fingers back there, teach them to fondle and then push into themselves. Watch them discover the pleasure of having their fingers in their ass while they’re masturbating their clit and pussy with the other hand. Oh yeah, that’d be it. So I’d say her own fingers, slick from the juices of her aroused cunt, is my favorite tool to use on a woman’s ass. Other than my cock.”

Sandy: Do you enjoy lap dances? If yes, do you prefer your dancer to have on a G-string or nothing?

“Why on earth would I want a G-string in the way, darling? Get a woman to do a lap dance fory ou with a nice thick plug up her ass, where she’s grinding down you, fucking herself with it like she would your cock…now there’s a show that’ll make you spurt like a teenager. Not to mention, she’ll lose her mind and gush right there in your lap.”

“That’s plenty for your interview. I’ve waited long enough. It’s time for our swim.” Studying her bared ass, the exposed breasts, the nipples barely brushing the swimsuit top laying on the lounger, he rises from his own seated position. Opening up the jeans, he pushes them off his thighs, showing a cock beneath the snug shorts that proves decidedly he wasn’t making an idle boast about his size. And Sandy wasn’t sure if he was even fully erect yet.

Are you fucking kidding me! Sandy thinks with all seriousness and pure pleasure in her eyes.

“You don’t seem too shy, though, darling, and I have you oiled up good. Maybe in the water, you’ll slide right onto my lap, and we’ll do a couple rounds, let you come underneath that waterfall.” Taking her hand, he lifts it to his lips and caresses it with every bit of a courtly knight’s manner, even as his green gaze locks with hers. “It’s a rush, when I lift you up toward it so the water’s drumming on your breasts, the cold teasing your nipples and making your tits quiver. While your body is arched over my chest, neck pressed to mine and head dropped onto my shoulder, I’ll fuck you hard, send you right over the edge with my fingers in your pussy…”

Cocking his head, he plucks the Blackberry from her fingers, and tosses it aside. Then he leans forward to nuzzle her ear with his lips. As he does, his fingers caress her there as well and he straightens with the ear piece in his hand. “And if you ladies have enough energy to keep up, you can join us.” He tosses the piece on top of the table next to the wine and pins Sandy with his gaze, extending his hand. “Your time is up, darling. It’s time you deliver your end of the deal.” He gives her a rakish grin. “Or do you need a spanking to remind you of our bargain?”

With a big Cheshire cat smile, Sandy answers. “Ahh, spank and then a swim would be amazing. But I think we are going to have to remove our bathing suits so that the colors don’t fade in the water.” Laughing so hard at how corny that sounds. “Sorry, I could not think of anything else to say. What I wanted to say is naked now, play with the toys, then pool.”

Her control has completely unraveled.