When Demons Are Redeemed: The Dominant's Muse

Seventy-Nine - Cleanup In Aisle Nine

SEVENTY-NINE

             

Cleanup In Aisle Nine

I feel nothing for that dead man. I’m trying, but I feel absolutely nothing, Catherine unhappily tells herself, her eyes returned to the expired master’s corpse. I wonder if his submissive escaped with Vivian. But why would Vivian help a non-refundable? Unless she was another diversion in her escape plan, like the true leaving the ballroom to go to the buffet room was. But what kind of distraction, exactly, and how? And where is she now? She wasn’t in the tunnel. Was she? If she had anything to do with what happened to her weekend master hours into his sleep, there’s no doubt that she was given something to do it with, and since Vivian knows this mansion so very well, then . . .

When an attendant comes across the dead man, the women’s eyes are still on the now impotent body, on the now completely powerless body, made so in a snap, just like that. Unsure of the man’s state, the attendant calls out to his peers as he rushes to the deceased’s side, and a handful hurry over.

The noise that ensues wakes every master near the dead man’s station, and since news of the death then spreads like wildfire across the ballroom, from female to female, all masters are soon roused from sleep, which means that there is no need, this time around, for all the screens in the ballroom to end the sleep cycle by simultaneously displaying images of sensually pleasurable acts while fornication sounds fill the room. Moreover, since a man has just died, those sights and sounds are not played for mere entertainment’s sake either.

Catherine looks away from the corpse and the commotion around it when she senses that life has returned to her master’s body. It’s alive. And did I just shiver? How annoying.

 “Where’s this man’s submissive?” An event organizer asks in a loud voice, since every master around him is now awake.

Catherine’s eyes find her master’s just as the man inquires, and Tristan’s own windows-to-the-soul therefore also request information about what happened. They are met with nothing that relates to the death of a man, however.

“Are you well rested?” Catherine asks instead, her tone of voice hinting at her annoyance that he was allowed rest, while she was not. Her recent shivering, as well as the reaction of the part of her that is fond of Tristan’s eyes, feeds it as well. Traitors.

“Yes,” he replies, indifferent to the inequity. “Lovely, what happened?” He then finds himself having to inquire verbally, since he did not connect with her eye-to-eye. The failure to do so makes him sense that something is up, but first things first: a dead master.

“I hate it when you call me Lovely,” Catherine’s lingering mood dares to reply, rather than answering his question.

“Wow. Really? What did I miss?” Her master returns, his suspicion that something happened while he slept confirmed by those words and by that tone, and his attention therefore instantly off the dead man, since mastering Catherine matters so much more to him.

He quickly gets out of bed, and stands up in the way that a young man in excellent physical health and form can and does. As he then steps towards his female, his power, might and presence make Catherine tremble, but she does not step back from him, commanding her body to absolutely not do so, at any cost.

“What happened?” He then repeats, his stern eyes reminding her that he hates having to repeat any question, ever.

“Heart attack,” she whispers, after swallowing hard, and after choosing the safe interpretation of his question.