Mistress of Redemption (19 page)

I felt angry with her, of course. It was

all about him, though. The way he

looked at her, smiled when she made

the jokes. But he never laughed,

because he knew what was between

us. He was indulging her ignorance

because he loved her. Because he no

longer loved me.

“I should have left the house the

minute I knew. I couldn’t. It was

like…”

Nathan wanted to reach out and find

her hand, even as his mind told him

the desire had all the wisdom of

reaching into a snake’s burrow,

groping blindly toward a possible

strike. She continued after a long

pause. “When you find out a lover is

unfaithful, it’s usually a snippet of

information. Bits and pieces of things

that come together like a puzzle.

There are a lot of doubts. I think I

stayed so there would be absolutely

no doubt in my mind, no way he

could lie and make me think what I

knew was true wasn’t. I had to rub

my nose in every bit of it, so by the

time I reached that moment I was like

a starving dog given the smell of

blood in a sheep pen. I had to make

him hurt, had to strike them both,

even knowing they’d never feel a

tenth of the pain I was feeling. Death

was the only thing I could do to him

that seemed anywhere close.”

Another moment of silence, then she

spoke again. “I found out he served a

more severe punishment here than I

did. Do you know why his crime is

considered worse in Hell?”

He licked dry lips and braved it.

Reaching across the seat, he found

her hand again.

“No.”

It surprised Dona that he wanted to

touch her after seeing what had

happened on the stage. In prison,

male guards had been more

frightened of her than any other

prisoner. She felt no fear or revulsion

from Nathan. Only sympathy. But he

didn’t know the answer to the

question. She could feel him thinking

about it and knew his heart wasn’t

clean enough to find the answer. It

twisted a knife in her own, knowing

the answer was beyond his grasp.

“Because the soul can’t die. A soul

can become twisted, deformed,

maimed, wounded, but it won’t die.

Wounds allow infection. You

become an instrument of anger, hate

and bitterness. You become what

attacked your soul in the first place.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Now she held him when he

would have drawn back. “You’ve

seen it in the pleasure you took in the

suffering of your Mistresses. They’re

one of your mirrors.”

Nathan wanted to deny it, wanted to

rail at her, but in this place it was

absurd to lie to himself. He tried for

a subject change instead.

“So this is part of your punishment?

Serving as a Mistress of

Redemption?”

“No. My sentence is done. I accepted

the role of a Mistress of

Redemption.”

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Mistress of Redemption

“Is your husband…still here?”

“No. He served his time. He wasn’t

vicious, just thoughtless. He’s now

back in another life, paying his

karmic debt.”

“So Hell and Redemption are

separate.”

In the quiet of the theater, after the

horror of what he’d just seen and

knowing that somehow it connected

to knowledge of himself he did not

want to have, he wanted to pretend

they were somewhere on Earth, just

sharing a philosophical discussion.

Part of him hoped she would relent,

at last answer some of his questions

to help him get a grip on what was

happening. He couldn’t deny any

longer that he was somewhere way

the fuck gone from Dorothy’s Kansas.

Another part of him didn’t want any

explanations.

He simply wanted to sit in this quiet

place with her and not return to a

place of nightmares or choices. Hold

her in his lap until all the pain that

pursued them both melted away and

left only blessed stillness.

What if this had been Earth and he’d

been on a date with her? Maybe

they’d have gone back to her

apartment, the apartment of a young

medical student. Him a roofer with

rough palms, palms she wanted to

feel on her smooth skin. He would

have pleased her long into the night,

loved her, never given her reason to

doubt him…

As Dona felt the thoughts, saw the

images in his mind, it made her want

to be there with him. Remember a

time when she’d believed in such

pure moments. She could imagine

him moving between her thighs on the

sagging secondhand mattress, the

curtains fluttering with a hot summer

breeze. Her fan was going at high

speed because she couldn’t afford to

pay for air conditioning as well as

her textbooks.

Sometimes dreams were far more

special during the time when you

were making them, rather than after

you believed you’d achieved them.

Here, alternate realities were within

a Mistress’s grasp if she wanted to

see how it would play out, to help

her with her task at hand. She could

take the opportunity to create that

moment, enjoy it with him and then

wipe it off the slate of his memory,

keep it only on hers. But as she slid

into his imaginings, a different way

things could have turned out, she

knew this had nothing to do with the

task at hand and everything to do with

her own desires…

* * * * *

Summer breeze flitting through the

curtains. Bed stripped down to just

sheets and his body stretched over

her, giving her the pleasure of

running her palms up his strong arms,

braced on either side of her. Across

the broadness of his back, down to

his hips.

Lean, a roofer’s spare body, muscled

and more broad-shouldered than

expected. When he bent to her,

catching her lips in a kiss that was

somewhat off center because of the

rhythm of his body stroking into hers,

everything was dusky, soft at the

edges in the quiet room, the noises of

the street outside blending with the

radio inside.

“Dona.” He murmured her name,

sinking deeper. She arched, wanting

all of him and more.

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Joey W. Hill

“Mine,” she whispered back, biting

his lips a little harder, feeling him

swell inside her at the sensual

punishment, the claim on him.

“Yours,” he agreed. “Forever,

Mistress. Yours to fuck…however,

whenever…”

Humor glinted through his gaze, but

something darker too.

“Mine to love.”

Something got still in his face. She

saw the shadows. Before they could

claim him, take him away from her,

she cupped his jaw. “The way love is

meant to be,” she whispered. “The

way you’ve never known. Trust me,

Nathan. Save both our souls.

Trust me.”

Bending, he took hold of her breast in

his mouth, suckled gently while she

cupped the back of his head,

encouraging him to let the tension in

his arms ease until he was lying full

upon her. Plowed deep in the fertile

earth of her body, he nourished

himself from her breast. She could

feel the desire in him. The need. She

wondered if he knew how much she

needed to know he would surrender

to her. She stroked his hair. “I wish

this was our reality. I wish I’d gotten

to you sooner.”

I wish I’d let you keep your hair.

She watched it spill over her fingers,

those beautiful ash blond locks

bleached by the sun.

He didn’t lift his head, for of course

he couldn’t hear what she related

from another plane. God, his mouth.

His mouth alone was worth his

weight in gold. He suckled, licked,

squeezed her with his calloused

hands, arousing her so she didn’t

have to think.

Not at this moment. She tightened her

legs on him and his hand slid down

her thigh, cupped her buttock, lifted

her as he rose up over her now,

letting her feel his slow thrusts

become more powerful.

“Not until I say so,” she managed on

a breath. His eyes gleamed.

“Not until I make you scream. And I

will, Mistress.”

She reared up, clasping his neck to

put her mouth on his. Not urgent nips

and tongue thrusts despite the

spiraling need in her, but slow

caresses with her lips. She kept her

eyes open so she could smooth his

brow, watch his eyes close as he

couldn’t face what was in hers.

I love you.

When he shuddered, she moved to his

temple, feeling his arms band around

her back. Pulling her all the way up,

he took her to a sitting position

straddling him.

Burying his face in her breasts again,

he impaled her hard on his cock,

making her gasp.

She wanted him to look at her, tried

to get him to lift his head.

“I can’t…” His voice was hoarse.

“You can. You can give it all to me.

You’re a treasure. My treasure.”

She squeezed down on him tight,

feeling her own body convulse, so

close… God, he was so perfect. So

damaged and yet so perfect. This was

the time when he hadn’t had so much

polish, when he was still learning

how to use his pain as a weapon.

Ironically, he’d already committed

the crime that would take him

irrevocably down that 76

Mistress of Redemption

path. She could feel the guilt rising in

him as her love frightened his

subconscious into a corner, made him

face that crime. She couldn’t let him

turn away from that mirror. She

couldn’t turn away from it either. She

had to let go of this reality.

This isn’t your time together. It’s an

illusion that never was. A fantasy.

The dream melted away and she was

looking at the man a decade later.

She could see all the evil clinging to

him, like oozing green mud from a

swamp. She knew what he looked

like under all of that. It was her job

to know. That was why cleaning it off

was going to tear her apart.

* * * * *

“There are three layers,” she said at

last. Nathan let out a breath, knowing

he’d gotten a temporary reprieve.

“Hell, Redemption, Purgatory.

They’re like three spokes of a wheel

and the Hall of Souls is the hub.” Her

voice was soft, rich, distracting him

with the vision of her mouth.

“Once you go through Hell or

Redemption, whichever is necessary,

you choose your next life in the Hall

of Souls and return to Earth to pay

your karmic debt.”

“So our world is Purgatory.”

“Yes and no. The mortal plane is a

place for souls to pay karmic debts,

but it’s also the place where

reincarnated souls without karmic

debts to pay continue their lessons

toward enlightenment. It’s also a

place for new souls to start their

journey. Having all three in the same

place gives those with more spiritual

knowledge the chance to help guide

those with less. We all move toward

spiritual peace together. Just at

different paces.”

“So, what’s the difference between

Hell and Redemption?”

She hesitated. For some reason that

brief pause created a coldness in the

pit of his belly. The conversation had

started naturally enough. A way to

put off the inevitable. A small

blessing of time to hear her voice,

feel the grip of her hand. As the

silence stretched out between them,

the pleasure slipped away, as did her

hand.

“Hell is pain,” she said at last.

“Horrible pain at every emotional

and physical level of who you are.

It’s punishment for conscious sin and

it’s purification to the very marrow.

It’s reserved for souls who are so

corrupted that it’s the most efficient

option for them. The soul enters the

mortal plane as a new soul, starting

its journey again with no memory of

what came before.”

“That’s bad?”

“It means you’ve gone to the

beginning of the Monopoly board.

All the lessons must be relearned, the

paths re-walked. The destination of

ultimate enlightenment, of peace and

tranquility, is as far away as it can

get. It’s like… How would you like

to have to do school all over again?

Starting in kindergarten and go

through it all? Bullies, humiliation,

not fitting in, et cetera. Without the

benefit of any hindsight to give you a

leg up, the ‘if I knew now what I

knew then’?”

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Joey W. Hill

“It would suck.” Many images came