When Demons Are Redeemed: The Dominant's Muse

Eighty-Nine - Take Her Down

EIGHTY-NINE  

Take Her Down

Catherine offers Tristan no reply to his distressing question, as she does not confuse speech and thought at this moment. As she fearfully looks into his eyes, with every inch of her paralyzed otherwise, she wonders how he has processed her lie, her “betrayal,” and very much resents the part of her that comments that, on the up side, she will no longer have to worry, now, every time that he speaks with a master.      

Because I’ll soon be dead?! His being in a good mood when he found out obviously helped, since he appears calmer than what I expected, but he’ll surely soon crescendo into that fury. I have to answer something, and not something stupid, this time, but what can I say that’ll mean anything to him, when he believes that he’s been betrayed? I shouldn’t be terrified to speak: I did nothing wrong. This is so not how it should be. If it were right . . . Have I always done what’s right? Catherine finds herself wondering, hoping. Shadows that blitz through her mind darken that hope, however, and force her eyes to close.

Even though she is able to recognize that the invading shapes are part of a cohesive scene, she cannot make sense of what it is, of what they are doing. Whatever it is, however, it returns to her body the grip of visible trembling. When a “q,” as well as the headache that she suffered during the body-part guessing contest, tumble into her mind as well, joining the shadows, more confusion strikes her.

Stop! She screams, before opening her eyes, and then, rather than stepping away from Tristan, stepping towards him. Close. Closer. Closest. Choosing to ignore that he just threatened her, when he pointed out that she lied to him, and choosing instead to oddly think that he can protect her from those shadows, and putting that first.

Since Tristan does not react to her newly appropriated proximity, wary Catherine remains very still, with her eyes now fixed as well. Their line of sight soon allows her to once more observe Soft Curls, to once again register just how close to her master the young romantic continues to be, and so very devotedly, as revealed by her demeanour and facial expressions.

Since it pains Catherine to see her, she looks away, and several vision-hops then once more impress upon her just how many weekend submissives are now keeping such close company with their respective master. Her mind, however, does not pull out any file containing possible motivations for this behaviour, and so, neither explanations supplied to her by Vivian and Laura, nor reasons supplied to her by non-refundables themselves as fashioned by their experiences and by the shortcomings of their past and of the people within it, come to mind.

It must be the armour of Tristan’s designs, the shield that they offer me, that now makes me so bold that I stand so close to him, Catherine uneasily sends healer’s way instead.  He can’t touch me, right now. I’m untouchable. So maybe . . . maybe those words are all that he’ll speak, because maybe he won’t make a scene, not here, not now. Maybe he just wanted to let me know that he knows, so that I spend the rest of the weekend not only doing what I absolutely hate, but also being in terror of what he’ll do to me when it’s over.  Pause. What were those shadows?

Silence.

I really shouldn’t be standing so close to him.

“Catherine, you’re not like the non-refundables who stand closer to their master for no good reason,” she recalls Laura telling her.