Cyril was startled slightly by his Mistress's words, but at the same time felt a slight sense of relief.  He had been all but biting his tongue to respond to his wife's questions.  It was what he was used to doing, after all, responding to questions.  When his Mistress's fingernails again moved against his skin and scalp, he felt that familiar electricity dance down his nerves.<br/><br/>"Yes, Mistress," he said at first, before raising his eyes.  He first raised them toward his wife, then for a moment, let them turn toward Bridget.  They didn't remain long on her, however.  He turned back toward Marissa.<br/><br/>"I don't know if there is an easy answer Marissa, for your questions.  But, in complete honesty, I...want to please her.  And I want her to approve of me.  Her approval is hard to get and receiving it..."<br/><br/>He let his words trail off.  "I have a great many pressures day to day.  Things I have to concern myself with constantly, save when I come here.  Here, I am nothing more than a man."<br/><br/>He glanced downward.  "Well, maybe not even that much."<br/><br/>He looked back up at Marissa.  "As to the last question, I do not think that 'love' is the proper word for it.  There is affection, more than a little devotion, sure, lust, yes, but love..."<br/><br/>He glanced toward his Mistress, then back toward his wife.  "I would say no."