When Demons Are Redeemed: The Dominant's Muse

Ninety-Eight - Alignment

NINETY-EIGHT

Alignment

When Tristan and Catherine reach his work area after the photo/colour matching mini-contest, it is just passed 10 p.m., and the tenth and final action cycle of weekend play has just begun. Since the contest was not allowed to run over, every master is therefore within his station for the last master/canvas hour of the weekend, with each man once more said to be servicing his submissive, even though it is of course she who is doing the actual servicing. It is only because there is gifting with purpose this weekend that masters speak so much of their “servicing,” while propagating their “nurture” and “nourish” beliefs as well.

The true don’t fall for the lie that what men love to do most in the world, that what they risk everything for over and over again throughout their life without care nor empathy about what it does to others, that what is for their own selfish pleasure and ego stroking, and nothing more, as they only ever think of themselves, is actually so-called all important nurture of male to female instead of what it truly is, right?

It’s a good thing that you’ve regained some control, Catherine, but don’t use it to open up files.

It was just physical, how I felt. A physical consequence, because of what was in my blood. Tristan said so. I’m feeling better now. Pause. Nurture. Is it measured in that small amount of time that a man spends with his female? But while he’s with her, he’s doing what he wants to be doing with her, to her, or having it done to him, and nothing more, nothing of real nurture, so is there ever any nurture at all? All men, then, just like Tristan with me, on tour, when he comes to me briefly to get what he wants, and is then gone again. I wonder how many weeks of the little time that he spent with me per day would add up to all the time that he’s spent with me here, in two days, this weekend. And that really is just like most relationships, in a way, isn’t it? Since men prefer the guys and other things, so they don’t spend much time with their mate other than when they’re getting or taking what they want from her. Pause. What do masters win, when their submissive wins a mini-contest? She then once again wonders.

Well, you get praise from your master.

All women are expected to do so much just because it gets them that praise. I . . . I think that I enjoyed it, just a little bit, those women being punished. Not their pain, but the idea that because of what they did to me . . .  But I could’ve been punished that way as well, for breaking the rules.

You weren’t. And your attention should be on Tristan, healer recommends.

I’m awaiting instructions as to how I’m to coax from him his next contribution, his next gifting, to my art. When he wants me attached to his dick, he’ll speak up. The absence of images flooding my mind and turning me to mush in his proximity is more proof that I’m indeed more like myself. But enjoying the women’s punishment just a little, that was . . . Well, no images turning me to mush now, she repeats to herself.

Whispers about the second midnight special, however, then enter her mind in the absence of those images, and she despises the dark emotions that the whispers reawaken. Her anxiety increases even more when the wall that she was shoved against during the first midnight special returns to mind.

Does it have to be one or the other, then?

Which would you choose? Healer inquires.