When Demons Are Redeemed: The Dominant's Muse

Seventy-Seven - What Have I Done?

SEVENTY-SEVEN

What Have I Done?

“And where were you?” One of the non-refundables forced to remain close to the door after her return from the buffet room asks Catherine, blocking her way as she does. “True morons were allowed back to their abuser a while ago.”

Tristan’s female does not reply. She wishes to walk by the woman without suffering any damage to her art, since she has hopes of not being punished at all, somehow. Returning to Tristan with damaged designs, however, instantly makes that impossible. No chance at all, then.

Since the woman moves to one side and then to the other, when Catherine attempts to navigate around her, Tristan’s female once more very much resents the door attendant’s absence. It does not seem to her that he thought things through at all, leaving her to deal with all these non-refundables, leaving Tristan’s submissive, and his art, to face such adversity. Did he truly believe that they would allow her to just walk on, just like that?

“Did you brainless twits have a little chat about us, after we were so rudely made to leave the food room?” The woman asks, obviously satisfied with limiting Catherine’s movements.

“Bet they were all so insecure, talking about us,” another non-refundable offers.

“Yes, we all dream of being whores to many men, every day. You caught us,“ Catherine sarcastically replies.

Step back from that edge, from that mood, Catherine. She puts her hands on you, and Tristan’s designs fall. And then . . .

“You all dream of being free.”

“Again, yeah, free to be used by many dicks a day, every day,” Catherine sarcastically replies, not easing up, as so much anger remains within her, since a big part of her just cannot forgive her for having been too afraid to run.

Catherine, there are many, many men around you who might not be so in control, if you swing to an extreme, healer warns her.

I am so, so FURIOUS! What have I done, returning like this? And what does it mean? God, what does it mean?!

It means survival. Chill.

“What you said in the buffet room wasn’t even. It was just weird,” Catherine, however, baits the woman with, rather than chilling.

I’d really rather you turn inwards, right now, and reflect on your “effect,” as you call it, on your “bad luck” that spreads to others, healer yet again warns her. Even if it’s been less than forty-eight hours, and even if you haven’t been around these women much, and even if women don’t react the same to begin with, generally, if they do at all, and even if they don’t lose it like men do, with this weekend being what it is, with the very nature of all of the activities, and with the medicine . . . Catherine, why do you even have bad luck to give to people? Healer repeats, hoping that she will take the bait.