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@bostonxzoie
Enzo: What are my plans? Enzo: I think taking over the world is a Thursday activity. Enzo: Everyone is on the eve of the end of the work week and then suddenly there's a dictator. Imagine how frustrating that would be.
Zoie: To be at the Bakery no later than 2 PM on Friday. Zoie: .........Interesting approach. I respect that. Keep coming up with those gems, and you'll be joining your brother on my payroll. Zoie: Speaking of, anything new or exciting to report?
Kate was halfway to the self-care stations when she lost her nerve. As long as she was at this event, she’d be looking over her shoulder for Zoie, and that would make it hard to take good photos or to enjoy herself. Besides, she had what she needed. She could just go home and send in her photos, then open a bottle of wine and try to calm her nerves. She looked around for the nearest exit. As soon as she spotted it, she made a beeline. There were a few people in her way, but she didn’t bother looking at their faces as she tried to push past, until she nearly collided with the woman she’d been trying to avoid.
The sight of Zoie dead in front of her stopped Kate in her tracks. She gasped, and for a second she probably looked like a deer facing down a hunter’s rifle. The Domme looked so cool and collected, and though Kate knew Zoie well enough to know that she often put up a facade, it still unsettled her. Over the past five years, she often wondered how well she’d ever really known Zoie Martin. Not well enough to understand why she’d left, or to deserve an explanation. Over the past five years, Kate had also imagined this reunion countless times. She’d thought of all the things she wanted to say, to give Zoie a piece of her mind and make her feel some semblance of guilt. But right now, she was coming up blank, and her fawn impulse prevailed over her desire to fight.
She collected herself and put on a wide grin, trying to act like she was pleased with this reunion. The word “Mistress” almost escaped her lips, but she corrected herself– “Zoie,” she said. God, it felt weird to call her that, without any honorifics. But she wasn’t Kate’s Mistress anymore. She was just Zoie. “Fancy seeing you here,” Kate said, her voice bright and shaky. “How have you been?”
Despite the awareness that her breath had caught completely in her throat, Zoie kept her exterior neutral. Internal alarm bells began ringing throughout her body and mind, triggering an increase in her heartbeat as well as a slight sheen of sweat beginning to bead at the base of her hairline. Still she took in a breath and swallowed, willing composure. Without it, she knew all too well she might absolutely fall to pieces- not a good look for someone in her position and with her reputation.
The Domme would have been lying if she'd said she hadn't imagined some sort of reunion with Kate approximately a million times within her own head. Often, she'd wondered how she might react, what she might do. Within herself, Zoie could see the scene playing out perfectly- the tears, the apologies, the groveling...None of which Zoie Martin had ever even remotely considered allowing another human being to see her do. Still, Kate was different, and she always had been. Even so, when faced with the moment there seemed to be nothing the Domme could do outside of what she always did- deflect.
Hearing her legal name being uttered from Kate's lips brought a slight twitch to the corner of Zoie's eye, though she cleared her throat and ignored it. "Fancy indeed. Despite the fact that this is my hometown, something I'm certain you were more than aware of." Narrowing her eyes, the Domme did her best to tell herself that the smile consuming her ex's face was performative and nothing more, though even that attempt at reassurance did nothing to stop her heart from feeling as though it had shattered all over again. "Which of course, begs the question...What the hell are you doing here?"
Enzo: I don't have any plans at the moment.
Enzo: Are you about to ask me to help you take over the world?
Zoie: You do now. Zoie: Me? Take over the world? Never. Zoie: Not publicly at least. Too messy. Not to mention, if that were my end goal, I certainly wouldn't be scheduling the planning committee for a 2 PM Friday meeting. That's more of a Wednesday activity, wouldn't you say?
Enzo: Zoie.
Zoie: Interesting. Zoie: Where do you plan to be Friday at around 2 PM?
ZOIE ✉️ ENZO
Zoie: Enzo.
@enzoacosta
“Always a pleasure, Zoie,” Leonor said, returning the smirk. “I try to avoid hospitals too, but if Javi was sick, I’d come visit. I trust that you’re treating my brother well? And that he’s not giving you trouble?”
To tell the truth, Leonor had been a bit anxious about coming here. She didn’t particularly like or trust the Martins after everything that had gone down under Michael’s leadership, but Zoie seemed like the least intolerable of the bunch, and from what Javi had told her, it sounded like she was trying to do some good and genuinely improve the BCO. Still, on the rare occasions that she and Zoie did interact, things were usually tense between them. Zoie’s comment didn’t help her feel any better. It mostly made Leonor feel guilty about how she’d come across in the past.
But she had come here to do more than just extend an olive branch. “So, I usually like to bake treats for Valentine’s, but I’m realizing that I’m not gonna have the time this year to make them myself. So what have you got that’s small and festive? And preferably durable? They need to travel well.”
As Leonor fixed a smirk on her own lips Zoie cocked an eyebrow, tipping her head forward just slightly as the two maintained eye contact. With both being natives of Boston, and their families having run within similar circles in the past, the two women had been circling each other for quite some time. Naturally tensions thickened upon Zoie's return to town, her brother's time as BCO leader having left virtually every member of the community feeling unsteady and unsure. And, while the Domme had made obvious and significant efforts to clean things up and regain favor and trust overall, the reality was she'd done next-to-nothing in the way of salvaging some semblance of a relationship between herself and Leonor.
"That's quite the comparison, but I'll keep that in mind." She retorted, her smirk transforming into something more akin to an overly-sweet and obviously forced smile. "Playing the 'protective older sister' card, huh? That's a choice. You know, if you wanted to insert yourself into BCO business there are better ways. Though, I'll give some grace and add points for creativity." Shifting her weight on her feet Zoie jutted her right hip a bit, placing one hand on it as she listened to Leonor's request.
"Oh, an actual order? I must say, you've surprised me. Something few manage to do." Turning to glance at what remained in the display case, she glanced back at the other before speaking. "I'll need a little more information to point you in the right direction. How many do you need, for starters? Do you have a flavor profile preference? Anything that should be avoided? Are you looking for true pastries or were you thinking more along the lines of fancy cookies?" Raising her eyebrows Zoie's gaze bore into the other as she awaited a response.
location: Boston Community Center at the Valentine's Day Party for: closed for @bostonxzoie
Kate stepped off the dance floor, getting away from the crowd for a second to catch her breath. She’d gotten a few good photos of people dancing. It was still early in the night, which meant things weren’t too active, but that also made it easier for her to find and photograph individuals or couples with minimal clutter getting in the way. She probably had what she needed, but she figured she’d stay for another hour or so. She didn’t have any other plans tonight, and one of her favorite parts of her job was going to events like this, even when she didn’t know anyone. She’d even dressed up (or rather, down) for the evening, and worn a comfortable but work-appropriate pajama set.
It had been over a month since she’d come to Boston, though, so it was possible that she’d see someone she knows. But before she spotted a face she recognized, she heard a voice that made her heart skip. A voice that was deeply familiar, even if Kate hadn’t heard it in almost five years. She knew before she turned to verify– it was her. She had known that Zoie grew up in Boston, and the possibility of running into her had crossed Kate's mind. But she had reassured herself that Boston was a big enough city, that the chances of running into the one person who ruined her life were relatively low. Yet, less than five weeks here, and her former Domme was barely twenty feet away for her, as stunning and powerful as Kate remembered her.
Thankfully, Zoie was caught up in a conversation and hadn’t seemed to notice her yet. Kate wanted to turn and walk the other way, but she had trapped herself against a wall. Her heart pounding, she walked back onto the dance floor. She needed to get away, go take some photos of the spa or some other part of the event, and not let her ex-girlfriend get to her head.
Truth be told, if Zoie had her way, she wouldn't have attended the Valentine's Day event at all. In recent years- approximately the past five, to be precise- Valentine's Day was one holiday the Domme found herself avoiding like the plague. If anyone had cared to ask- anyone other than Javi, that was- she'd have played it off, spouting randomized facts about capitalist systems and Hallmark-holidays. And, those explanations seemed to allay the majority of inquirers, which Zoie appreciated especially considering the truth they hid.
Still, the reality was that in this particular instance the Domme couldn't simply have her way, an odd experience for her, certainly. After all, as the head of the BCO she was more than aware of what was expected of her, as well as of the importance of keeping up appearances. So, here she was, mingling and doing her civic duty...At least for the next half hour, that was.
Glancing at her watch Zoie nodded as her current companion continued their tirade about a recent hike in property taxes, the Domme nodding and 'ahh'-ing her way through the conversation. Glancing around she scanned for any potential escape route, though what she found very nearly stopped her heart. There, making her way across the crowded dance floor, was Zoie's ex. Kate. Suddenly the Domme's mouth grew incredibly dry, something even taking small, calming sips of her drink couldn't remedy. Her eyes followed Kate as she appeared to head towards the self-care spas.
Nodding, Zoie casually handed her now-empty glass to a confused and unsuspecting passer-by before simply walking away, tracing Kate's path as she made her own way through the crowd. Stepping away from the dance floor and into a much calmer hallway, Zoie took in a deep breath, glancing around momentarily before deciding to simply leave. Turning on her heel the Domme intended to make her way out a nearby back door, however her plan was foiled the moment she spun around and found herself face-to-face with the very same woman she'd decided to attempt to avoid. Despite her outward expression remaining neutral, there was no denying the emotions burning their way through her systems. "Kate." Zoie said simply, as if they were neighbors running into each other at the local supermarket. "What an interesting turn of events."
location: sweet dreams bakery for: closed for @bostonleonor
Heaving an exasperated sigh Zoie dropped the large bag of flour she'd been carrying onto the growing pile in the corner of the bakery's kitchen, taking in a deep breath as she collected herself. After a moment she turned, making her way back to the front of the bakery and taking her usual position behind the register. Glancing around, she took silent stock of the inventory remaining in the display case and made a mental note to replenish the lemon bars and ginger snap cookies within the next hour.
Suddenly the bell above the front door chimed, pulling the Domme immediately from her thoughts. "Welcome to Sweet Dreams", she called before looking up to see who had entered. When she finally turned her shoulders relaxed slightly, arms moving to cross over the front of her chest. "Well, well, fancy meeting you here. And here I was living under the impression it was your life's goal to avoid this place like the plague." Smirking, Zoie leaned forward slightly to rest her palms flat against the counter. "What can I do for you, Leonor?"
@zoiemartinofficial posted a photo on Instagram
damn, I miss a good Colorado winter. #takemeback ❄️⛸️☃️
As the door opened and he watched her, Ilon's own smile faltered. They should have expected this from Zoie; a part of them probably did. Would they go back and change it so that they knelt right away? No. It wasn't even a question for them. Zoie knew what kind of submissive they were, just like they knew what kind of Domme she was. Ilon had a choice: just how much did he want to push back about the kneeling? There was honestly no doubt in Ilon's mind that she would make him stand out here until he did it, and Ilon didn't feel like standing out in the cold.
With a sigh and a roll of their eyes, they lowered themself down and knelt on the Domme's porch, feeling the cold, hard cement under their knees. Their butt rested on their heels, and Ilon's palms rested on their thighs. They kept their head up, their eye glimmered with defiance, and their jaw was set in a pout. Just because they were kneeling didn't mean they were going to be an obedient slave, and Ilon knew that Zoie knew that.
Once again Zoie's eyes were focused on the ground the moment she pulled the door open again. Unsurprisingly Ilon had chosen to obey, though their facial expression ensured their feelings on the matter remained obvious. Rolling her eyes, the Domme gave a slow smirk, eyes locked onto Ilon's as she remained silent for the first thirty seconds of their interaction. "That's what I thought." She spoke finally, cocking an eyebrow in the others direction before turning on her heel with a snap of her fingers. "I expect you to follow me." She called, not bothering to turn her head. "You're welcome to go full-force with that brat shit from the jump if you'd like, but know you'll follow me one way or another. I'd suggest saving your energy. You're going to need it."
Making her way to the base of the staircase, Zoie tipped her wine glass back and swallowed what remained. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes for a moment, doing her best to focus her mind on what lay ahead. Naturally she had a plan, one that she'd formed then re-formed and polished following the conversation she'd had with Ilon about their needs, likes, and wants. Still, the truth was it had been some time since the Domme had done this type of scene with anyone. And, though she'd never admit it, the truth was something akin to nerves- at least, as close as Zoie Marin could get to nerves- had managed to worm their way into her subconscious.
For: Open @beantownstarters Where: Starlight Coffee Shop on National Bagel Day.
Wyatt had had a wonderful day so far, and Starlight felt like it was buzzing even more than usual, with it being National Bagel Day. He'd lost track of the number of samples he'd given out, and there would be more as the day went on. But Wyatt truly enjoyed being the front-facing person for Starlight. He knew it wasn't Master Forrest's forte, nor would it be something he enjoyed. Wyatt really did enjoy chatting with people, building connections, and social interaction as a whole. On the tray he had balanced on his hand was a French toast bagel sample that he was currently giving out to customers. "Hi!" Wyatt greeted someone warmly with a smile on his face. "Would you like to try this? It's a French toast bagel with a honey cinnamon cream cheese."
National Bagel Day. It seemed such a simple, frivolous thing; certainly not something that should have irked Zoie in the slightest. Even so, that didn't stop the tidal wave of irritation that seemed to consume her each time she passed an advertisement for the day. Truth be told the Domme's irritation had less to do with the day itself and more to do with the fact that she herself had completely and utterly ruined three batches of bagels before admitting temporary defeat and walking away from the project. Still, Zoie was more than determined to maintain her reputation as a community supporter and as such set off for the one place she knew would fix both her need for a bagel and caffeine. Stepping into Starlight the Domme pulled her sunglasses slowly from her face, placing them gingerly into her bag before turning towards the order counter. Her journey, however, was cut short as she was approached, her attention turning to the submissive she recognized as both the Claim and the husband of Starlight's owner, Forrest. "Good morning, Wyatt." She greeted, tone neutral. "French Toast bagel...." She repeated, voice trailing as she helped herself to a sample. "My figure is screaming 'no', and yet..." Popping the piece into her mouth she chewed slowly, nodding after approximately thirty seconds. "I must admit....That's fantastic. Did you make these?"
Sonya felt the weight of the Domme's gaze like a physical heat, a sharp contrast to the biting Boston air. "Most things in life are a matter of angles," Sonya replied softly, her voice betraying her when she was nervous. She watched, almost mesmerized, as Zoie closed the distance to the sign. Sonya had seen this woman around plenty—mostly from the quietest table in the back of this very bakery. She’d spent more than a few mornings stealing glances at her over the rim of an espresso cup, captivated by the sharp-edged beauty and the effortless way she commanded her kitchen. When Zoie stepped back to stand beside her, the proximity was dizzying. Sonya’s "people-pleaser" instinct flared, making her want to soften her critique, but the silence that followed was even heavier. Then came the admission: You weren't wrong. Sonya looked at the extended hand, her heart doing a slow, heavy thud against her ribs. The pull of a blue stone—and a woman like Zoie—wasn't something she could easily decline without feeling the physical ache of her nature. She reached out, her smaller hand meeting the Domme's in a brief, careful squeeze. "Sonya Valenti," she offered, her eyes meeting Zoie's for a second longer than she intended before she looked back at the sign. "Admitting someone else is right can be its own kind of power." She pulled her hand back a little too quickly, her fingers curling into her palm to catch the lingering warmth. "I’m actually one of your regulars," she admitted, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. "Though I usually try to stay invisible in the corner with a croissant. I suppose it’s a bit late for that now that I’ve criticized your marketing."
The other woman's nerves were evident to Zoie, as someone who had been trained practically since birth to read others the way some read their dealt hands during poker games. As such, it wasn't something the Domme commented on, but rather filed away as a newly-gleaned piece of information. "Sonya Valenti." Zoie repeated, her eyes bearing into the other. After another pointed pause, she finally continued. "Well, Sonya Valenti, it seems you've got some intrepid wisdom stored behind that pretty face of yours." Cocking an eyebrow she added, "That'll serve you well, should you ever care to learn how to use it to your advantage."
The admission of being a regular came and Zoie's mouth morphed itself into a perfect 'O' as she nodded slowly, recognition alighting behind her eyes. "Ah yes, I thought you looked familiar." The remainder of Sonya's comment came and Zoie waved her hand casually, the flick of her wrist causing the sun to catch her gold-and-diamond encrusted watch perfectly. "On any other occasion I would absolutely rip you apart for that, however in this instance, I did ask." For Zoie, the statement passed as something akin to reassurance. Without hesitating, she continued, turning to Sonya with an almost predatory tilt of her head. "You know, in the past five minutes I've deduced that you're pretty, educated, and have more wits about you than three-fourths of the human sludge wandering these streets. And yet, your lack of confidence leaves....Quite a bit to be desired. Why?" Truthfully, Zoie Martin was nothing if not blunt, possessing little to no regard for how she might come across.
Specials for the week of Monday, January 12, 2026 - Sunday, January 18, 2026
ZOIE MARTIN'S HOME
Zoie's home is a French-style mansion that has been in the Martin family for generations
Currently, Zoie owns the Martin estate- it was passed to her directly following her brother's disappearance
At the behest of her mother, Zoie has left certain rooms and areas of the home untouched/not updated
The home itself consists of: an elongated loop driveway, a foyer, a living room, a formal dining room, a kitchen, a downstairs half-bath, an office/study, a master bedroom (walk-in closet pictured), an en suite master bath, four guest bedrooms with en suite full baths, a full-service laundry room, a backyard (featuring a built-in fire pit, a covered patio, a full 6 ft. pool, a pool drink/snack bar, a pool house, and a small garden), and a 4-car garage
Sonya was already halfway into a mental retreat, her eyes fixed on the uneven cracks in the pavement as she calculated exactly how many more blocks she had to walk before the social weight of the day felt lighter. The sudden, sharp command of "You" hit her like a physical touch, snapping her head up. She stopped, her leather bag sliding slightly down her shoulder as she looked at the woman, then at the finger pointing toward the sidewalk. "Me?" Sonya’s voice was soft, the slight, melodic lilt of her Italian roots brushing against the vowels. She stepped into the designated spot, carefully maintaining a few inches of extra "personal bubble" distance. She crossed her arms over her chest—a classic defensive posture—though she masked it by tilting her head with an air of professional critique. Her eyes scanned the sign and the doorway. "The angle is too aggressive," Sonya said after a moment, her gaze flicking briefly to Zoie before returning to the sign. "It’s fighting the flow of the foot traffic. If you want people to look at it without feeling like they’re being forced to stop, you should rotate it maybe... five degrees toward the door."
The questioning response from the other irked Zoie more than she cared to let on, though she shot an exasperated look towards the blonde as she moved into the indicated position. The Domme's eyes remained trained on the other, taking in each feature from her eyes to her outfit, and most assuredly stopping to take in the gem fitted into the ring on her hand. Nodding to herself, Zoie waited with as much patience as she could muster while an opinion was formed. Once the assessment was given she paused, shifting her posture slightly to take in the sign once more as she considered what the other had said. "Too aggressive..." Zoie repeated, tilting her own head. "Wouldn't be the first time I've heard that." She said wryly, chuckling to herself as she took in the scene. "Huh. I must admit, I wasn't aware a sign could make someone feel forced, and yet here we are." Her tone remained casual-bordering-on-icy, an intangible signature that was 100% her own. "Five degrees, you say?' She asked, closing the distance between herself and the sign before shifting it as suggested. Stepping back into place, she stood next to the blonde as they took the time to examine the finished product together. After several moments of silence Zoie turned to face her. "Damn. As much as I hate to say it, you weren't wrong." With Zoie, that was as much of a thank-you as the other was going to get. Extending her arm, the Domme offered her hand to her new acquaintance. "I'm Zoie. Zoie Martin. I don't believe we've met. At least, not formally."
Javier had been running some errands downtown, walking instead of driving. It was a good exercise, and he thought it was faster than trying to find a place to park at each shop. As he walked by Sweet Dreams, he hadn't expected Zoie to be outside, much less pull him into whatever she was doing. Javi's eyebrow raised at the order; it sure sounded like an order to him anyway, but Javi wasn't offended. "Hello to you too, Zoie," he replied with a smirk and a light laugh before he stepped into the spot she'd indicated. For a moment, he paused and looked at the sign while he listened to her speak. There was nothing actually wrong with it that he could see. The name was spelled right; maybe it was the coloring or design of it that felt off to her. After a moment, Javi said, "What are you trying to convey with it? What vibe do you want it to give people?"
Once the previously unnamed figure took their place- or, rather, positioned themselves in the direction Zoie had indicated- the Domme finally took a moment to look at who she'd been speaking to. "Javi." She said with a nod, remaining true to character with her lack of niceties, even when it came to her closest confidante. A silence fell between them then as Zoie awaited the others' assessment, her own eyes bouncing between the sign and the door. When he finally spoke she sighed, giving a slight roll of her eyes behind her oversized sunglasses. "What vibe do I want? This isn't some hipster café." Crossing her arms over her chest the Domme gave a wry chuckle. "What I'm trying to convey? I don't know, how about bitch, come in and buy some fucking pastries? Do you think that hits?" Shaking her head she gave an exasperated sigh, running a hand through her hair. "One of these days I'll figure out how to stop stressing over this shit. Or, better yet, maybe I'll hire someone else to do it." Pausing her tirade Zoie turned to face Javi, her expression shifting. "Why are you out walking around town this time of day, anyway? Don't you have a room to clean or something?" Zoie very, very rarely concerned herself with how she came off to others, and she felt confident enough in her relationship with her Advisor to know he'd understand the joking undertone in her comment.
Ilon & Zoie | A Scene | 1/10/26
Closed starter for @bostonxzoie. They do a scene at Zoie's home.
Ilon made their way to Zoie's home and pulled into her driveway. The clock said it was 12:56 pm, and he'd had orders to be there promptly at 1 pm. With that, Ilon stepped out of the car and made his way to the domme's front door. Ilon couldn't deny that they needed this, to submit, to feel used, to just be able to let go and get out of their head for a bit.
He had sent Zoie his full personal kink list and trusted that she wouldn't do anything that was a limit. It wasn't their first scene together; he knew the domme knew that they used the stoplight system and what his aftercare needs were.
As he approached the front door, Ilon already knew that they weren't going to kneel. It just wasn't their style, and if Zoie didn't like it, he trusted the Domme to handle him. Ilon had warned her that he'd probably be bratty. With that, he lifted a hand and knocked on the door.
Making her way from the kitchen back towards her living room, Zoie took a large gulp of her wine before glancing at the watch resting around her left wrist. "12:56 PM." She commented aloud to no one in particular. Rather than stopping to settle herself on the couch, she made her way towards her front door, expecting a knock at any second. And, just as she'd expected, the sound came just as she approached the door. A smirk spread across her lips as she paused a beat, not wanting to seem too eager.
After a few moments the Domme took in a deep breath and reached for the handle, turning it slightly and pulling the door open with ease. Initially her eyes were cast downward, having fully expected to find Ilon on their knees at the very least. After her eyes being met with nothing but feet, she ran them up the others' body slowly, pointedly, her gaze landing directly upon their own. "No." She said simply before taking another sip of her dwindling wine. "Try again." She added before closing the door once more, giving herself a mental fifteen count before slowly re-opening.
