When Demons Are Redeemed: The Dominant's Muse

One Hundred and Seven - Dangerous Page

ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN

Dangerous Page

When Tristan’s hands once again reach for the collar’s tail, Catherine, who is unaware of her master’s resolve to loosen the collar, give her a moment to recover, and then lead her to the show, prepares for the worse, believing firmly that Tristan is incapable of dismissing any behaviour that he considers a betrayal, and hence, that she will never be freed. However, when her master’s hands are slow to act, this conviction does not prevent a part of her from imagining the collar being loosened indeed, as well as imagining the pleasurable sharp, deeper breath that would naturally ensue, as her body’s first order of business. Other pleasant sensations that then seek to be imagine-enjoyed as well, though, to accompany the reverie of oxygen returning to her system and of saturation levels returning to normal through delightful breaths that would soon draw her out and return her to the world, are quickly rejected as nothing but ridiculous, pathetic fantasy.

Even if he loosens the collar now, that just means that he’ll take pleasure in bringing me to the brink and then back again, in whatever way, before he finally pushes me over that threshold and into the abyss, Catherine weakly, gloomily envisages. Her eyes remain closed, as they are not only difficult to keep opened, now, but to open to begin with.

Your punishment is over, Catherine. Keep taking the small breaths that the collar allows, and don’t lose consciousness, healer reassures her, before a knock at the door demands her master’s attention.    

Tristan’s eyes look up and then towards the sound, before making themselves slightly smaller, as he considers possible reasons for this intrusion. Perhaps the same attendant who walked in before, believing that he must apologize some more. Or, our ‘brilliant’ host, but in his case, probably not to do the right thing and apologize. Probably to lay something else on me instead, and annoy me some more. Or, maybe another master drawn to Catherine, even here, so very out of bounds. That would be impressive, he concludes, before walking to the door, rather than answering the knock verbally. As always, part of him is ready to immediately leap into action if necessary.

“Don’t you go anywhere,” he lightly sends back to Catherine, before he reaches the door. The ease and lightness of his tone, however, suggest nothing different, nothing contrary to Catherine, as far as her analysis of her predicament is concerned.

See? He didn’t loosen it, she points out to healer instead, and I’m so weakened that the words that come to mind to condemn him and his behaviour can only be slipped into a file, as I just can’t put them together, much less express them out loud.

“I was told I could find you out of bounds. Got a minute? This is important,” Donovan, Tristan’s top guy, inquires, once the door is opened for him by his boss. His voice is most sombre.

My nerves just can’t take this anymore! Catherine agonizes, having of course recognized the voice, and not missed its gravity, grimness. I can’t even struggle against Tristan in any way, now. And even if I weren’t restrained, his powerful hands would quickly control me, as they always do. I lost consciousness in the corridor because I felt overwhelmed, but what I feel now reaches so far beyond that. I really don’t know how much longer I can succeed in remaining aware. How much longer am I expected to be able to cope with all of this?

“You’re certain of this?” Tristan inquires, once Donovan’s report has been conveyed to him. The two men stand just a few feet from the playroom door, far enough for beyond-anxiety-filled Catherine not to hear a word of their conversation.