Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Walker’s next speech confirmed that. “What I mean by this is, if your sub works too much, negotiate a set time for resting. Make it a rule for them to follow. If you, as the Master, struggle to keep your day-to-day tasks in order, use your property to help you. It’s just one way to not only tighten your bond, but condition behaviors and form new habits.”
I rubbed my jaw and found myself nodding along, ’cause this part had to appeal to Lane. D/s in his life was meant to create a structure in which he could let go of some of the pressure that built up and just…follow orders.
“When we’re discussing TPE, I think it’s also vital to bring up punishments,” Walker said. “Quick disclaimer before I get ambushed by the brats in the house—”
“Uh-oh!” Noa yelled.
I laughed, and I wasn’t the only one.
Walker chuckled and gestured toward the boy. “Case in point. Brats—don’t you worry, I’m a fan. I know those of you who are submissive brats choose carefully when you brat off. I know you read your Doms’ moods. I know the difference between a brat and someone defiant. But with that said, I think we can all agree that there’s a time and a place, especially if you identify as both a brat and a TPE slave—and those two don’t generally mix. Macklin, for instance, needs his space to let go as well. But at home, in our primary lifestyle, the brat rests while the slave takes the wheel, and that boy is much more sensitive when it comes to punishments.”
I caught Lucian nodding in agreement in the background.
“As a slave, Macklin strives to please me,” Walker went on. “It’s his entire goal—to keep me happy, to serve me, to anticipate my needs. So if you incorporate high-protocol structure in your vanilla life, regardless if it’s a rule or two or it’s a twenty-four-seven-type of dynamic, my advice is to be extra mindful about punishing your sub at home. Because that’s the place where you live. It’s supposed to be your safe space. And when our slaves are guilty of an infraction, chances are they didn’t mean to.” He paused and smirked. “Not always, of course. Sometimes, they act out.”
I was sadistic enough to wanna see that. To see Macklin willfully disobey his Master and then suffer the ramifications. Fuck, that had to hurt. And mostly emotionally, right? Macklin could handle a beating. But knowing he’d disappointed his Owner?
Okay, perhaps I didn’t want to see that after all.
“Regardless, be mindful,” Walker advised. “If a sub is already upset they wronged their Owner, a lashing on the couch where they normally watch movies together could leave a bad feeling they’ll associate with that spot. I’d say it’s better you have a serious conversation at home, maybe in the kitchen or home study, and then you save the punishment for when you’re out here. We have plenty of playrooms to choose from.”
Solid advice—and something I probably wouldn’t have considered.
Shit, would I have to consider punishments?
I rubbed the back of my neck and blew out a breath. Let’s focus on getting me in the same room as Lane first.
As the demo neared its end, the three Masters on the stage took questions from the members of the audience, and I listened on one ear and made my way back to the bar. Newbies wondered about everything, and seasoned pros wanted to share their own experiences—and get inspiration for future play.
I switched to nonalcoholic and ordered a bottle of water.
Then I sat down on one of the few available barstools and pulled out my phone.
I scrolled to a photo of Lane and Shay sitting on the boardwalk with their feet in the water while Terra swam around, chasing a tennis ball.
I’d been in the water myself when I’d taken the photo, and his damn smile… But that wasn’t the only reason I’d wanted photo evidence.
Was it denial if I’d acknowledged something but pushed it to the back of my mind? Because down there in Florida, I’d had a quick thought. It’d been after our playtime on the island—after Macklin had accidentally let me know that Lane had a cousin.
Corey Cruz.
An unforgettable little kid who’d gone to school with my daughter. Well, he wasn’t a kid anymore, though he sure acted like one in his Little mode. But back in the day, I remembered him as Marina’s best friend. He’d been at our place quite a bit. Total goofball. I’d thought it was a shame to see them grow apart after they’d graduated from high school.
And he was related to Lane.
I zoomed in on Lane’s face in the picture. His grin was so carefree and still a little soft, his gaze fixed on Terra while Shay said something funny I had no recollection of. What I remembered the moment I’d decided to take the picture was less pleasant. Maybe Marina knows him. That thought had struck like lightning before I’d shoved it away, because the thought of going after a former classmate of my daughter felt…weird. If not wrong.