The Puppetmaster

by Linnea May

  “It’s a simple matter of precaution—for your sake. Sign it if you trust me,” he urges. “And if you don’t trust me, you shouldn’t be here in the first place.”

  Another good point. I pause only a moment before quickly scribbling my signature underneath the proxy. He’s right. I wouldn’t even be here if I didn’t trust him.

  “Thank you,” he says as he takes the paper away, and when I cast him a questioning look he adds, “For your trust. I won’t betray it.”

  I try to catch his black gaze, but he evades my eyes, seemingly busy with turning to the next page for me to go over and sign.

  I don’t like this.

  Did I just make a huge mistake? Is there any way to know for sure?

  My pulse jolts again, but when he places his warm hand on my left thigh as he leans over to present the final page for me to review, all the gnawing doubts are silenced instantly.

  How could his touch feel so perfectly right if there was anything wrong with him, or with this?

  The final page for me to sign is actually the nondisclosure agreement, and the part that I was always the most curious about. No one has ever heard from his puppets after they were in his care, and while I understand the meaning of a nondisclosure, I’ve always wondered why it was they disappeared. After all, there was nothing keeping them from visiting The Velvet Rooms again, as long as they don’t talk about what happened here, right?

  But as a matter of fact, there is. Right at the very bottom, the agreement clearly states that a puppet is to stay clear of the establishment where he conducts his hunts up until a certain date—and that date is set about two years in the future.

  “Why?” I wonder out loud, pointing at the section like a child who’s just learning to read. “You said I should trust you, but here it looks like you don’t trust your puppets to keep their mouths shut, even after signing this agreement.”

  He appears annoyed by my question. “What makes you say that?”

  “Why else would you want us to stay away from The Velvet Rooms?” I ask. “And why until that date?”

  “I have my reasons for it,” he answers vaguely. “Not all of these rules are just for my sake, Alena.”

  My eyes rest on the line, trying to make sense of his words.

  “I don’t get it,” I admit eventually. “How is this for my sake? I like going there, and I would never tell anybody about—”

  “I know you wouldn’t,” he cuts me off. “But trust me. After being here with me, you won’t even want to go there anymore.”

  I huff, unable to stop myself from throwing him an amused look. “That’s a pretty cocky thing to say, sir.”

  He smirks at me. “Didn’t I warn you about that attitude?”

  I jerk up when he adds a strong pull at the strings, almost causing me to let the pen drop.

  “You’re already bound, Alena,” he reminds me. “You’re one little signature away from becoming my puppet, and trust me when I say that I won’t tolerate such behavior from you once that has happened.”

  His expression is still friendly in a way, but there’s a shadow cast over it, the dark threat that seems to be inherent to him and that I’ve been drawn to from the very first moment I saw him.

  “Fine,” I say, winking at him. “I guess I can go without The Velvet Rooms for two years if I must. But it’s a sacrifice, so you better make it worth it.”

  He narrows his eyes but the smirk on his face only widens.

  “Sign,” he hisses. “So I can punish you.”

  My heart is galloping in response to his threat, but I hate giving him the satisfaction of seeing what he does to me. However, despite my best efforts, my hand is shaking as I set the pen down to sign. I take a deep breath as I feel the heavy weight of the consequences of my decision pushing me down like a drenched cloak.

  Stop overthinking it. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’re doing this.

  I nod, if only to myself, and the pen flies along the line, leaving my name in a hasty scribble. As soon as I’m done, I drop the pen with a definitive motion, throwing it on the coffee table with such force that it bounces up and drops down to my feet.

  “Uh, no, I’m sorry, I—”

  I interrupt my stammering and resort to action instead, leaning forward to reach for the pen—and taking the stack of paper with me, as my hair falls over my shoulder and brushes it off the table as I move.

  For fuck’s sake, why must I be such a klutz?

  He doesn’t say a word, nor does he move or try to keep me in place with help of the strings as I try clear up the mess I created. As I gather the stack of paper that’s scattered around my feet, I find something that’s been hiding underneath it the entire time.

  The letter I wrote for him.

  I freeze in place, unsure what to do. My first instinct is to ignore the note and act as if I’d never seen it. But I can’t. It doesn’t feel right, and it would be an outright lie, a lie that would be apparent to him. And he doesn’t like liars.

  Moving slowly, I pick up the pen and gather the paperwork into a neat stack on my lap, before sitting up and placing it back on the table, keeping the note in my hand.

  He’s watching me quietly, his face tense when I turn to look at him.

  “You read this,” I whisper. “And you still picked me…”

  He simply nods, once again leaving it up to me to interpret the expression on his face.

  “W-Why…” I utter helplessly, so petrified that my voice breaks. “How can you still want me? How can you not think that I’m the… most horrible person on earth?”

  I try to stop it, I try to not let the memories and my overactive mind get the better of me.

  But it doesn’t work. Tears are rushing down my cheeks, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them.

  Chapter 25

  Raad

  Alena is a strong woman, probably the strongest one I have ever met. And that’s exactly why her vulnerability has such a pull on me. It’s a lure that’s impossible to resist, despite my better judgment.

  I make sure to take the note and throw it aside before I collect the strings in each of my hands and yank her closer. She wasn’t prepared for that move and practically tumbles into my lap, her hands gripping the sofa as she places them next to my legs.

  A blend of surprise and fear is written across her face when she looks up at me now, her teary eyes seeking only one thing: redemption. She hates herself for what she did, she regrets what happened, and she’s tormented by the fact that there’s no turning back time.

  But if she thinks that she doesn’t deserve pleasure and affection by anyone because of it, she is wrong—and I’m going to prove that to her.

  I let go of the strings and grab her by the hips, lifting her up onto my lap. She straddles me without hesitation, placing her hot cunt right on top of my crotch as I take her pretty face between both my hands. I bring her closer until the tip of her small nose almost touches mine. Her eyes are wide with worry, a stream of fresh tears running down both cheeks as she looks at me.

  “You’re my puppet now,” I tell her in a hoarse whisper. “You’re mine, my possession, my toy, my choice. Do you understand?”

  Her lower lip is trembling nervously, but she doesn’t say a word when she nods in response.

  “Don’t you ever fucking dare insult what is mine,” I continue, pinning her down with both my hands and a warning look. “Don’t call yourself a terrible person, ever. You wouldn’t be here if I thought that of you. You’re insulting my judgment when you put yourself down like that.”

  “But—”

  This time, I shut her up with a kiss. My lips are sealed on hers too quickly for her to even stand a chance at getting away from me. She’s too stunned at first, just letting it happen while I force my tongue inside her mouth. I’ve already spread her wet pussy with my fingers, I have been deep inside her core, toying with a spot that made her dance in the most delicious way possible.

  And yet this kiss trumps al
l of that.

  It’s more, more of everything. Her salty tears spice our heated dance as she awakens from her stiffness and responds to my intrusion with the same greed that’s fueling me.

  Our tongues intertwine in a greedy embrace, taking from each other with such ferocity that I can feel the years of yearning inciting her just as much as it does me. She leans into me, grinding on my lap when she feels the hardness between my legs. I’m still holding her face in my hands, but when she makes a move to lift her arms to wrap them around me, I reach for her cuffed wrists and push them down. I may have placed her on top of me like this, but I won’t allow her to take over just because of it. The strings are there for a reason, and the sooner she understands that, the better.

  I break our kiss and am met with her questioning eyes, still shimmering with tears.

  “You’re not a terrible person,” I remind her. “You are my puppet, my sexy little toy, mine to please. Do you understand?”

  She nods. “Yes, sir.”

  “Master,” I correct her. “I’m your master now.”

  Her eyes widen while the last tear finds its way down her left cheek, pooling around the little dimple that appears when she suggests a smile.

  “Yes, Master.”

  She breathes the words with such devotion that the effect is palpable all the way down to my cock. I didn’t think I could get any harder for her, but her calling me that just sent me over the edge.

  I need her. I need to be buried inside of her.

  It’s impossible to deny that wish, not now that she’s sitting on top of me bare naked, her tits right before my face, her nipples hard and her pussy so hot and wet that I can feel it through the thick fabric of my suit pants.

  And she’s mine now. I can do whatever the fuck I want with her.

  Whatever. The. Fuck. I. Want.

  “Arms behind your back,” I order. “And leave them there.”

  She obeys immediately, but not without casting me a look of worry. She still thinks I might stop at any moment. She still thinks she’s not worthy of being here.

  But I will rectify that situation.

  A gasp escapes her lips when I fondle between her legs, the back of my hand caressing her wet center as I unzip my pants.

  Chapter 26

  Alena

  I had no idea how much I needed this. How much I needed someone to know that dark secret about me and still look at me like he does. There’s lust in his gaze, pure need and desire like I’ve never seen before—but there’s also tender affection.

  If I didn’t know any better, I would think that this man actually likes me, that he actually sees me for who I am, and he’s neither afraid nor appalled by that person.

  Of course, that’s bullshit. He doesn’t know me. He can’t know me.

  But he does want me.

  I could feel his massive erection growing beneath me while we were engaged in our deep kiss, the damn fabric still between us even though I wanted nothing more than to feel him deep inside me. And now it looks like I will.

  It’s a struggle to balance myself with my hands behind my back, but I manage to lift myself up so he can reach his zipper and finally remove that barrier separating us. I knew he must be big; I could feel it even with all that fabric between us.

  Yet when he reveals his rock-hard length before me, I can’t suppress an awed gasp. Shit, he’s not just big. He’s massive.

  He doesn’t give me much time to admire his steely size. Grabbing me by the hips, he shifts me forward and places me so that my wet entrance meets the thick head of his cock. I balance on top of him, wavering as I try to follow his order of keeping my hands behind my back at all times. He helps me by placing his hands a bit higher around my waist, stabilizing me, before he pushes me down on himself.

  I moan through every inch as he parts my lips like no one ever has before. He’s bigger than any man I’ve ever been with, and more demanding while still driving me to the edge of insanity. I’m so wet for him, so ready to take him that he slides inside me with ease, only kindling my burning need for him even more.

  I want to move on top of him. I want to move my hips, circle around him and take him in even more, impossibly deeper. I want to feel more of him, despite the fact that his size is already stretching me to the limit.

  I want him to move, too. I want us to dance, just like he promised we would.

  And I want to come. I want to be allowed to come.

  I can’t come without permission, that much is clear. But I neither want to ask for it nor assume that he will grant it, or be crazy enough to just take it. He has become impatient with me before, and the last thing I want to do is make him deny me an orgasm again.

  He won’t do that, will he? He will let me come this time, right?

  My eyes find his, the question written in them, but I don’t dare give voice to it. Instead I send a silent plea, rotating my hips only slightly, which he answers by placing a tighter grip around my middle. At first I think he does it to keep me in place, but I soon realize that he’s not trying to stop me, but instead is urging me to go on. He moves with me, not against me.

  “My good little slut,” he whispers, his black eyes narrowing as they pierce through me. “Take what you need. I’ll allow it. Show me how you can get off on my cock.”

  I throw him a suspicious look, unsure whether he’s serious or if this is a test of some kind. Then I remember: he doesn’t play games like that. He doesn’t give his puppets orders he doesn’t really want them to follow.

  I intensify the rotations, alternating the angle in which his cock pushes against my inner walls, tasting him, claiming him in a way I never thought he’d allow me to. But all the while, I keep my hands behind my back, despite the urge to touch my clit and make myself come.

  “That’s enough,” he hisses, abruptly ending my reign by digging his fingers deep into my flesh and forcing me to move up. “Fuck me, doll. Ride your master.”

  I groan in response and follow his guidance when he lifts me up from his cock, just to slam me down right before his tip leaves my core. The sensation is overwhelming, a hot blend of bliss and pain, culminating in a sizzling strike each time my clit meets his pelvis as he buries himself deep inside me.

  “Fuck it,” he hisses under labored breaths, before he grabs my ass with both hands and jumps up from the sofa, perfectly cradling me as he takes me with him, his cock still at home inside me.

  He turns around and throws me on the sofa, his body never leaving mine and hovering closely above me as he continues to ram inside me. He’s so rough and demanding. His desire for me radiates through my entire body, sparking flames all the way up to my fingertips. I want to touch him, to wrap my arms around him and hold him even closer, but once again, he doesn’t let me. As I make a move to take charge, he reaches for the strings attached to my wrists and forces my hands up above my head while he continues to drive into me with ferocious hunger.

  He keeps pounding into me while my stomach clenches with the pleasure building up throughout my core. I can’t take this much longer. I feel like I’m being torn apart, the impending rapture promising to be cathartic in its intensity and building back together whatever he may have taken from me.

  “Come,” he urges, emphasizing his order with an especially deep but slower thrust. Caressing my oversensitive clit with his hard pelvis, he stays buried deep between my lips, drawing circles rather than moving back and forth. The sensation is overwhelming, it’s mind-numbing, blinding…

  “Come!”

  I clench around him on command, my eyes widening with surprise and crushing delight when I feel my climax washing through me in vast waves.

  A groan echoes through the room as he joins me, his thick cock pulsating and throbbing inside me as he remains glued to me, spreading me with his entire length, both of us deliriously riding through our peak together. He’s still holding the strings, still keeping me pinned down and sprawled out underneath him as he owns me with his entire body. Breathing heavily
, I seek his coal gaze, trying to understand what just happened. But when he reciprocates, I find the same drained bewilderment on his face that’s taken hold of me.

  He didn’t plan this. Maybe he didn’t even want this. He lost control because of me—and he looks anything but happy about it.

  Chapter 27

  Raad

  This is ridiculous. I’ve never been a man who gets tricked into doing things he doesn’t want to do by a woman. I wouldn’t be the infamous Puppetmaster if I weren’t the one pulling the strings. Always.

  Fucking always.

  This was the third time that Alena made me go off course and act on impulse instead of following my own rules. There’s nothing wrong with being guided by my puppet’s desires; it’s how I enjoy them the most. If her body revolts against me, I won’t force a prewritten plan on her because that wouldn’t give me any pleasure.

  But this... this is going too far.

  I don’t fuck my puppets on the very first day. Never. And I most certainly don’t fuck them like this, quick, mindless, vanilla almost.

  The freshly signed papers are scattered across the table next to us. At least I got that out of the way before I lost control with her. But the ink wasn’t even dry by the time I forced myself on her, invaded her pretty little mouth with my greedy tongue and before I felt her wet pussy pulsating around my cock.

  Fuck.

  It was wrong. It was against everything I stand for.

  But as much as this infuriates me, a part of me knows that I would do it all over again.

  And maybe that’s what annoys me the most.

  I’m still on top of her, her irresistible body still wrapped around me, her core still throbbing with the last remainders of her climax. I’m still as hard as I was when I first rammed into her, and despite our recent rapture, I feel anything but satisfied.

  I want more of her. A lot more.

  But I also don’t want to be impatient. I want to savor her until the very last moment she’s with me—however long that will be. I know it’s essentially up to me, but I don’t trust myself with Alena. I still hope for external factors to make that definite decision for me.