After dinner, the Doms changed into preferred swimwear and adjourned to the pool house, a beautiful glass structure that overlooked the water. Equipped with a pool table, wet bar and bookcase full of reading selections, the room invited diversion and indulgence. Comfortable wicker lounge furniture, set up in private groupings buffered by the artful placement of tropical plants, allowed group or one-on-one interaction equally.

During the meal, it was obvious that the displays by Leila and Mac had ratcheted up the sexual tension of all the guests to a higher level than Tyler had anticipated for this early in the evening. The lingering touches bestowed on the subs, the frequent wetting of lips and shifting of bodies, the distracted tone of the conversations. The heavy stillness of the air hovering around the table, though the palm frond ceiling fan was going at high speed. When Violet fed Mac his meal from her fingertips, she completely lost the thread of anything going on at the table.

Always a skillful host for his D/s parties, Tyler rerouted the nature of the tension by suggesting to the Mistresses that the slaves could play a game of water volleyball while they took their ease around the pool and watched.

David, Mac and Collin were typically competitive men, but Leila's charming enthusiasm and relative inexperience thrown into the mix kept the testosterone level down and the tone of the match appealingly playful.

Violet discovered there was no better game than water volleyball to display a body to its best advantage. She watched as appreciatively as the other Doms as naked torsos stretched and turned. Genitals were generously exposed as the men came out of the water to spike a shot over the net or jump up high to return a volley. The white heart shape of Leila's ass entertained and stimulated them all as she lunged, laughing, after the ball. Her breasts, heavy and wet, nipples tight with cold, could not help but keep the men semi-erect, even in the water. Violet enjoyed the beauty of every form displayed, but her eyes kept coming back to Mac, savoring each time he dropped beneath the surface to rewet his skull and came back up, water sluicing off his body, muscles rippling across his back as he pushed his hair off his forehead.

"He's extraordinary, isn't he?" Lisbeth sat down with her White Russian and chose a chocolate-covered strawberry from the silver center tray left on the patio table between them. "It's something about him. Tarzan-like. He's not handsome. He's definitely not pretty. He's just primitive. Beautiful. Raw sex."

"Sounds like you miss him."

"Sometimes." The woman's green eyes were as pale frosted as her white hair, pulled back from her elegant features. "You don't like me, but you've refrained from cutting remarks about my age, which would be easy ground. I appreciate that, and as such, I want to tell you straight out I've no lingering designs on Mac. Mostly I enjoy breaking in the 'virgins', watching them discover their submissive nature, the awareness of what power and control really mean in sex. I like to watch them grow.

When Mac was ready, I cut him loose with no regrets. I introduced him to his nature and trained him. That was all."

"You did a piss poor job with the training," Violet said bluntly. "He still hasn't accepted it. He plays with it, better than most subs fully embrace it, which is why so many Mistresses have let him get away with it. He hasn't let anyone break him down, move into his soul."

"Very astute. You get right to the point in a conversation, don't you? But you and I both know there's no way I would have accomplished that." Lisbeth reached over, touched Violet's hand in an affectionate gesture that surprised her. "You know the truth of it as much as I do. You're just worked up from dinner. He's a one-woman sub. And I don't mean he needs and prefers one-on-one play, though he surely does. I mean there's only one woman he's going to let be his true Mistress." She leaned back in her chair, examined the tray to pick another strawberry. "When I look at Mac, I think of that perfect meal behind glass, accessible only if you know the combination to make the glass slide back. You can't shatter it to get to the meal. That will just ruin the feast." She paused.

Violet cocked her head, not saying anything. Part of her resented the woman's intimate exploration of Mac's mind. The smarter part of her knew she should hear the rest of it, and so her pride was relieved when Lisbeth continued without a visible sign of encouragement from her.

"He lets a woman hold the reins sexually, probably the only aspect of his life where he allows anyone to dominate him. However, the key is that he 'lets her'. His heart is that of a true sub, but no one's ever taught him that being a true sub means the only choice is surrender. I believe only one woman is going to be strong enough to do it, the woman. Though he barely knows it, he's waiting to possess and be possessed. He's following his instincts. As I said. Primitive. Raw. Animal." Lisbeth made a humming noise of pleasure as she bit into the strawberry, the chocolate smearing across her upper lip so that her tongue came out, delicately brought the sweet into her mouth. David missed an easy return volley completely and she chuckled.

"I don't mind making you jealous," she said, flashing teeth at Violet. "Because what I got to sample of him was tasty. But from the sparks flying between you and him, I'd say you might want to try out being that one woman."

Violet watched Mac laugh at something Leila said, engage in a brief splashing match with her, palm the ball and return to the back line to serve. "So how many do you think he's auditioned?"

Lisbeth cocked her head. "I'd ask why that matters, but to the woman who wants the role, I can imagine it would matter a great deal." She lifted a shoulder as Violet turned her gaze back to her. "Not as many as you might think. He's done a lot of playing in the dungeons, one-night type stuff, but since me, he's resisted becoming someone's regular playmate. He's so charming, he's managed to stay a free agent without offending or insulting, but it's clear he's been looking for something he didn't even really know he was seeking. The more inexperienced Mistresses didn't get that, but it was pretty obvious to someone who's been in the game as long as I have. And to the person who might just be that lucky Mistress for him." Violet raised a brow. "I haven't known him very long." Lisbeth waved a dismissive hand. "Don't play games with another Dom. Do you know, in all the time we were together, he was never possessive with me? Never even used a possessive when he talked about me? Or any other Mistress I ever saw him with.

But you, at dinner. 'My Mistress'. He said it, implied it, several times. He's never done that, not in all the time I've known him. Ever." She had as much as she wanted to think about at the moment. Violet gave Lisbeth a courteous nod, rose. Mac's gaze was on her the minute she moved, and when she came forward, he stroked over. He caught onto the edge of the pool and crossed his arms on the concrete, curling them in a loose circle around her ankles.

"Hi," she said, squatting on her heels.

He smiled, a wary gesture that said dinner was not forgotten, but he reached up, traced his thumb over her lips and cheek. She let him, pressed her jaw into his hand, closed her eyes. It released the band of tension around her lungs, and she felt weightless. A moment later, she realized it wasn't an illusion of her mind. He had simply curled his arms around her coiled form and taken her into the heated water with him, scooped up against his body. She wound her arms around his neck, pressed her face into his throat, felt the pulse jumping there. He tipped back her chin, put wet lips over hers, and she let herself float, shifted so her legs were wrapped around his waist, feeling the strength of his hands pressed against her back, holding her curves, contained in a modest bathing suit, against his bare torso. The head of his cock bumped the crease of her buttocks.

"Take me back to the edge of the pool," she said, feeling both steadier and more messed up. She shouldn't be reacting to Lisbeth's familiarity with Mac, as it was obvious the woman was not a threat, but she wanted Mac to be hers, all hers. Though it was an irrational thought, she fervently wished she had been his first and last Mistress.

He took her to the side of the pool, lifted her out of the water and sat her back on the lip, her feet rubbing against his waist and rib cage as he stayed between her knees, watching her watching him. His silver eyes studied her face, jeweled with tiny beads of water. Coursed down her neck, over the tops of her breasts, visible in the scoop neck of the one piece, down, down. Further down. He began to sink, his knees bending to take him lower, his gaze staying level with her face, communicating what he wanted to do.

Though she could tell he was offering it out of hunger, and as a continuation of an apology for dinner, a way to make amends, she liked those reasons. Violet also liked the idea of having him serve her pussy in sight of his previous Mistress. A branding that, while outside the bounds of civilized behavior, loosened the tension within her further.

"Mistress, may I?" His mouth was even with her thighs, the breath tickling the sensitive skin.

"You may." She whispered it.

Mac's eyes flared hot, and he put his hands on her knees. Tanned, rough male palms against the white delicate inner thighs slid forward, nudging them further apart.

She leaned back on her arms to accommodate him and he raised her legs onto his shoulders as he dropped lower into the water. Her heels floated, grazing his back.

She had imagined that he would be very, very good at this. With the first touch of his mouth on her, she knew she'd understated it. He didn't move the crotch of the swimsuit right away. He breathed on her, heating her, then put his mouth over the wet fabric, sucking the moisture of the pool off of it, through the fibers, creating pressure and suction on the enervated skin beneath that throbbed in response at the moment of first contact. The reaction rocketed through her body, tensing every muscle, digging her heels down in the water into his back.

No way was she going to be able to stay in an upright position. As if her mind was being read, hands closed over her upper arms. Mark held her, giving her back support.

She guessed that Tyler was helping her test the lesson of dinner. True to Tyler's ironic sense of humor, Mark held a towel.

Mac's attention lifted. Remarkably, Violet watched Mark lower his gaze, acknowledging Mac's dominance over the situation.

"Only to give your Mistress ease as you pleasure her," he murmured.

Mac gave an imperceptible nod, settled back to what he was doing, tiny nibbles on her pussy, his hands stroking the inside of her thighs even as he held them open, countering that strange impulse to close them against the wave of pleasure screaming through her nerves. She had thought about how his well-groomed beard and moustache would feel against her inner thighs and pussy, and now she trembled at the additional overpowering sensations, the alternate rough and soft brush of the hair against her tender skin as he moved his head.

Violet lay back into the solid wall of Mark's chest as he sat down, his thighs on either side of her, his groin pressed nicely against her lower back, but her focus was all on the man working between her legs. His tongue, teeth and lips driving her to insanity, making her twist against the gentle but unshakable restraint of his hands holding her spread wide to his pleasuring.

She gasped when his finger slipped under the cotton crotch, pulled it aside, and he slid his tongue into her. A slow unfurling so she felt it push past the labia, sample the moist heat within, flicker so he tickled the inside channel, while the broader part of his tongue pushed up, rolled against her clit.

"Ah..." She couldn't get a breath. He was barely moving his mouth, and yet every slight altering of position was rocketing through her as if he were working her like a steam engine.

Through glazed eyes, she saw how they were affecting everyone else. Tyler had brought Leila out of the pool and onto her knees to serve him in a like fashion, a mirror image across the pool from Violet, only he sat in a chair and she knelt on a towel he'd folded and provided for the comfort of her knees. He stroked Leila's hair as he watched them, and Violet's attention drifted to the girl's pale buttocks, moving rhythmically with the bobbing of her head on his cock, her back to Violet. Leila's pussy glistened with a liquid heat that had nothing to do with the pool.

Lisbeth had made David sit next to her knee and watch both sets of oral play. She had commanded him to maturbate himself as he watched, though Violet heard her firm murmured command. "You will stroke yourself until I command you to stop, but you are not permitted to come, because I want to save all that lovely seed of yours for me." Collin was back on all fours serving his two demanding Mistresses. They had rebound his cock in a tight harness, the back strap threaded through the gold ring pierced through his scrotum and attached to two leashes. Water still dripped off his body as they had him go back and forth, pulling aside the crotches of the matching black string bikinis so he could eat each pussy in turn while the unencumbered twin tugged idly at the piercing with her leash, giving him no relief. Both of the twins watched Violet and Mac intently with those liquid dark eyes. As Collin brought his mouth away from one cunt and took lips moist with one sister's arousal to the other, Violet wondered anew at the familial relationship between T&K.

Then any idle thought was blasted away as Mac set his teeth lightly to her clit, abruptly holding steady there. Just a bare increase of pressure as he smoothly thrust his tongue in and out of her, lapping her moisture up, until all she could see was a sparkling white haze that rose off the water, obliterating everything but the sense of immersion in sexual heat, of being surrounded by it, inhaling it. His hands tightened on her thighs even as she fought him, fought the reaction that seemed to be rushing down too hard, too strong.

"Come for me, Mistress," he muttered. "Please, God." His actions became audible, a sucking, appreciative noise that did her in, as all her senses were impacted, hearing, feeling, seeing, his head working hard over her, his heated breath, the flex of his shoulders. Tyler's hand tightening on Leila's head, forcing her down harder on him. The rasp of David's breath, his panicked expression as he knew he was coming close and his apprehension that he couldn't stop. The smack as Kiera brought the leash into play, strapping the loose end smartly across Collin's tight ass. He obediently raised it higher as he had been trained to do, displaying the glint of the scrotum ring and asking for more as he kept up his rhythmic licking of her sister's cunt. Tamara's long fingered hands gripped his head, her body rising up on the lounge chair, close to climax.

Violet beat her there. She arched back abruptly, Mark's strength increasing on her upper arms as she screamed, thrashing against the strength of two men strong enough to hold her still, let her feel every sensitive movement of Mac's lips as her pussy convulsed, rippled, contracted against him with the force of an orgasm so hard her vision grayed. Her heels kicked, splashed water, thumped hard against his back and still he held on, his mouth fucking her as she bucked, even as her pussy got so tight with her response that it was a screaming pleasure to feel the thrust of his tongue, over and over.

She came down with soft cries, like a runner gasping to catch her breath as she crossed the finish line. The orgasm spun away, its aftermath like that of a full body massage, leaving every muscle limp, her heart pounding against her chest like a hammer. He became still, his mouth sealed over her pussy, his tongue still deep within her, but not moving, as if knowing she couldn't bear any movement, even her own. Her involuntary twitches and quivers brought more soft whimpers from her lips. She put a trembling hand to his hair, curled her fingers into it, partly a caress, partly to just hold on, connect to him. Be one with him.

Mac lifted his head at the pressure of her fingers, and before she could give him an order not to take liberties, any order at all, he had moved up, sliding her legs off his shoulders, and crushed his mouth over hers, his hand cupped to the back of her head.

Her hands fluttered helplessly to his shoulders as he devoured her, let her taste herself and his own raging hunger. She was distantly conscious of Mark, still pressed against her back, separated from Mac only by the width of her own body, but then he slid away discreetly, and there was only Mac, his arms coming around her to hold her up, hold her to him.

Fortunately, she had enough brain cells to stop her beloved slave when he tried to draw her back into the water.

"No," she murmured, pushing against his shoulder. He was more than strong enough to resist her, of course, but this was about strength of will, not his ability to bench press three times her weight. She knew that Mac's subconscious knew that, even if his conscious awareness didn't, for he stopped the moment she spoke. He did not let her go immediately, though, his body still and explosive as a lion before leaping for prey.

He reached between them, his gaze on her face, and pressed the towel to her vibrating pussy, absorbing the moisture there. Violet arched, her breath catching, her fingers digging into his shoulders. With some amusement, she wondered exactly when the towel had been transferred. Mac adjusted the crotch of her swimsuit back over her, his fingers brushing her still swollen clit, and then he stepped back, his fingers trailing down her calves and ankles, reluctant to break the connection. A moment later, he finished the formal retreat by deliberately lowering his glance from hers in an expression of deference. It tightened the emotion and need squeezing her chest to the point of pain.

"Dearest?"

Violet looked up, found Tyler above her, offering a hand, his touch on her shoulder a reassuring anchor. He looked a little flushed himself, suggesting Leila had served him well, but Violet thought he looked far more composed than she felt. But then, Leila didn't seem intent on smashing out the foundation blocks of Tyler's conception of life.

"Would you like to take a stroll in the garden, see my new orchids?"

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