When Demons Are Redeemed: The Dominant's Muse

Ninety-Nine - Out of Bounds

NINETY-NINE

Out of Bounds

“So, will I be able to talk, once you . . . you know . . . ” Catherine asks, after Tristan’s hand guides her to step ahead of him into a hallway off the buffet room, through doors that were not opened when she was in the food room before, doors that her master had no reservations, no worries about opening just now.

Tristan’s eyes tell her that she is being rather silly, not saying the words.

“If I move the muscles of my face, will it ruin your design?” Catherine then puts together.

“Yes.”

Catherine’s eyes leave her master’s and look down the semi-lit hallway before her.  “Maybe it could’ve worked at the station if we’d . . .”

“Walk,” Tristan impatiently interrupts, the situation in his pants most uncomfortable for him.

Catherine takes a few steps, but then stops and looks down the dimly-lit corridor once more.

“An absence of light doesn’t mean danger,” Tristan points out.

“Spoken like a man. It is off limits, however. Are you sure that . . . ”

“Just walk, Lovely.”

"Hey, need another mouth?” A master inquires before she has the time to take another step. The man at the threshold of the corridor is obviously offering his submissive’s mouth and not his own.

“It’s not combo hour,” Tristan returns, without turning back. “Walk, Lovely.”

“I was thinking that you might need some help, since you like to make your canvas all nice and perfect,” the master persists.

Tristan makes a face that no one sees, since Catherine is facing forward and the master is facing his back, but then reminds himself that a master sniffing out Catherine in a hallway that is off-limits this weekend has to be a good thing. He therefore turns to look at the man who belongs to the voice and sees that another master is standing with him, their submissives, behind them. Neither master is willing to cross the threshold without an invitation, however. “Your harpy nodded off and leaned back in a chair during the last sleep cycle, ruining her designs,” Tristan points out.

“Yours left your side,” the other master returns, speaking for the first time. leaving Tristan wonders if the man is attacking him or just defending the master beside him. Either way, Catherine’s presence does not seem to be affecting this master.

Tristan turns and resumes walking. “Come, Lovely,” he instructs her, once he has passed her and has taken the lead down the hall.

How nice of you to remind Tristan, Catherine snaps at the master, after turning to face this man, rather than following her own master.

He hasn’t addressed you, healer reminds her.

“I don’t hear heels clicking,” Tristan yet again commands her, as he continues to walk down the corridor.

“Your master’s final touches will be applied with the same care that he first devoted to his art, to you, when he first began applying his design,” the master who offered his submissive’s mouth comments, his eyes in Catherine’s. “Not many women here can say the same.”

“You were safer walking ahead of him,” the other master, however, the one who just reminded Tristan, menaces.

Tristan hears and quickly turns to face the men. “Excuse me?”