When Demons Are Redeemed: The Dominant's Muse

Thirty-Four - Sir?

THIRTY-FOUR

Sir?

I’ve done everything that he's wanted for a year, everything, but that wall, that immovable wall . . . Catherine cannot shake off, as Tristan and she walk to the 1 a.m. mini-contest.

And yet . . .  healer counters.

How are my eyes? My face? Do they project “even?” I  wasn’t “even,” at the wall.  Many of the non-refundables are complaining and wanting to leave, and if even they don’t want to be doing all that this weekend demands, and they’re pros, then I most certainly have the right to  . . .

They have no attachment here, healer redirects her. Tristan’s your anchor, Catherine. And your protection.

He didn’t protect me out there, against the wall. He PUT me there! He’s cold and cruel, and a punishment like that, just for wiping his come off me was . . .

It was a midnight special. He did choose the men thinking of your punishment, but what happened after that would’ve happened anyway. And . . . I think that your master actually knows what he’s doing.

And that right there is proof that a part of me is most definitely insane. So, just shut the  fuck up.

His breath on you, different than other masters’ . . .

Enough. The horrible, horrible wall.

The lesson. Punishment and discipline.

Oh, so, by comparison, I prefer him to the other masters, prefer one rather than nine of them at me, and that means anything?!

She shakes her head as her eyes catch Tristan’s face, in profile. He appears to continue to be in a great mood, whereas Catherine continues to feel rather oddly. Am I losing control?

“How long have we been at this, now? And you’re still stupid about it?!” She hears  a non-refundable insult her master, as Tristan and she reach the last work station of the aisle.

The master has just climaxed, and, if the host were not at this very moment announcing an extra five minutes for masters to create because so many midnight specials ran late, he would have no time to design what he has just gifted, before the next mini-contest.

 “Some of your come’s been bouncing off me since the first time you came on me with that druggie super-power of yours. And gravity hasn’t stop existing just because you’re super-come-man for forty-eight hours,” the non-refundable adds to her older master. “So, your come drips, and some of it bounces off me, if you don’t aim it at the right angle when you spew it out, or if you’re too close to me. And, I’m just a mess! Is your theme the effects of gravity?!”

Catherine raises an eyebrow. Does that non-refundable not fear the consequences of speaking to a master that way, especially here, when he has such control over her due to the remoteness of the location of this weekend event, and due to the support of so many men, no matter what he does to her?

Catherine cannot imagine ever using a condescending voice, let alone that ultra-condescending tone of voice of the woman’s, out loud, in her dealings with Tristan, who, after hearing the words, makes a face, while one of his hands opens and closes a few times in the yap-yap way, thumb towards four fingers united on top.

“When I use shaving cream, I know that it’s going to squirt further if I apply too much pressure. It’ll shoot across the bathroom floor and just drop there, and how can you not know that about your dick?“ The woman continues.

Tristan and Catherine soon do not hear her anymore, as they continue to walk towards the contest area.

“He’s letting it go because he doesn’t care and he knows that no one here cares either, about what a non-refundable thinks or says. If it were me, I’d just keep smacking her. She obviously has none of the qualities of a submissive,” Tristan explains.