When Demons Are Redeemed: The Dominant's Muse

One Hundred and Five - Twosome Honour

ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE  

Twosome Honour

           

“Stop it,” Tristan orders Catherine, sensing her struggle to hold back tears. He has just branded her, and echoes of the burning sensation as well as those of so much more are overwhelming his female, crushing her.

You stop it! What’s he doing now? Choosing another way, since he didn’t use the branding to end me?

I can’t see what you can’t see, healer reminds her, since her eyes remain shut. You were foolish to take a stand like you did, and to keep your eyes closed after he ordered you to open them. But you did both. Now open them, Catherine. Enough.

No, because I don’t want to see, she repeats. What if he has an axe, a sword, a . . .

I didn’t see that kind of weapon in this room, healer interrupts her.

It’s so easy for you, because it’s not your existence on the line.

Tristan doesn’t seem as angry as he should be, as he would be.

It’s just the calm before the storm. My God, for a woman to ever willingly put herself in restraints . . . How can a woman ever trust a man that much?

Many objects in this room can force a woman to remain calm, and calm is good.

Shut up! Catherine snaps at healer. I’m just like the women in the coatrooms, now, tied up like this, and . . .

Just open your eyes, Catherine, healer interrupts yet again.

When Tristan’s female finally wills herself to see again, her master is standing where he did before, across the room from where she lies on the flex, with his back to her. As if he senses her watching him, Tristan raises his head and turns it to the right, before what is to his left gets his attention. He walks to that something, away from the counter in the back.

“You can’t see me now, can you?” He sends across the room.

Catherine’s collar indeed does not allow her to see her master now.

“Just a voice,” he adds, before the clanging and clinking sounds of objects being manipulated fills the room.

When they cease, the buzzing reverberation of a small motor possesses the playroom. Its rather high-pitched sound obviously responds to commands of outputting more or less power, as heard through its shifting humming. Its whine increases Catherine’s agitation, and when it begins to assail her eardrums with more and more might, she knows that Tristan is approaching with the object.          

See? I told you, she fearfully sends to healer. Something that . . . something that will cause more pain and create a memory for him that will surpass the one that comes to his mind every time that he’s in here. What an honour, she sarcastically adds.

“Small, but powerful enough to drill a hole into a skull,” Tristan describes, once he is standing by Catherine’s upper torso and sees that her eyes are finally opened again.  He slips the tool within her fixed line of vision and then away again. “And also powerful enough to cut out part of someone’s skull, which then allows one to play with a human-marionette,” he adds, as the power device produces a different sound, after being commanded into a different setting. “Because after that, a touch of the brain here, a poke of it there, and one gets results. But I have to admit that I can’t play that game on my own. Dr. Terverti has to help out. Marco,” he adds, before considering whether or not he should have brought up the latter. “It has other uses,” he then informs his female, as the tool in his hand produces yet another distinct humming sound.