by Linnea May
Good, very good.
But if she’s looking for aftercare right now, she came to the wrong man.
“You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?”
It’s not as much a question as it is a statement, but she nods right away, willingly, eager to do whatever I ask of her.
But I don’t ask, I take.
Grabbing her by the shoulders, I turn her on her back and drag her across the mattress until her head reaches the edge. She understands what’s about to happen and scoots herself closer, already opening her mouth without me having to say a word to her.
I groan with approval, the sight of it causing my hard cock to twitch with impatient longing when I pull my briefs down and free it right above Alena’s face.
She hungrily wraps her lips around my tip before I have to tell her to, eagerly sucking along my length as if she’s appeasing a long-lasting thirst.
“Good girl,” I praise as I reach for her strings, pulling at them so she moves her hands up above her head with my legs in between. I could tell that she was just about to wrap her dainty fingers around my cock and take control of a situation that wasn’t hers to control. Not when I’m fucking her throat.
She gags on my length when I thrust my hips forward until the tip of my cock presses against the back of her throat. I can feel her resistance, coughing heavily when I pull out to let her breathe for a second before I push back in. This time, I don’t stop when I feel resistance, but keep pushing until her arms fly up, pulling at the strings as I hold them back.
“Let it go,” I tell her. “I will come deep down your throat and there’s nothing you can do it about it, puppet.”
She mewls something, her body squirming as she tries to evade my movements, but that only makes me push harder and deeper. I shove my entire length down her throat, watching from above as she struggles for air while I can see my rod disappearing. Saliva is dripping down her face when I retreat for a few seconds to let her catch her breath, and after a few moments of coughing and desperate gasps for air, she’s the one who parts her lips and begs for me to continue.
The sight of it drives me insane, and when I drive back into her mouth, I can already feel my orgasm building up. I slam into her throat as she wails and gags beneath me, her body coiling with lust, her toes curling while she spreads her legs helplessly.
She’s suffocating on my length—and she’s fucking enjoying it.
That realization sends me over the edge, and I freeze as my climax overcomes me like a sudden rapture, coating the very back of her throat with my cum while I pull at her strings, holding her arms in a tight stretched-out position.
“Fuuuck,” I hiss dizzily while the crests keep coming, the buzz almost too much to bear. I know I must let her breathe, but I can’t. I don’t want to pull out of this heaven while I’m still riding these waves of unbridled bliss.
She writhes below me, desperate for air and fighting her gag reflex, and I manage just in time to withdraw and let my puppet breathe. She begins coughing heavily right away, a blend of cum and saliva dripping down her face when I hurry to pull her up by the strings so she doesn’t choke on it any longer.
I manage to get her into a seated position and let go of the strings to wrap my arms around her, holding her trembling body while I lie next to her on the bed.
She cowers in my arms, her eyes drenched in tears, her cheeks still flushed from the exertion, seeking comfort in the arms that did this to her.
And then she looks up at me like they all do at some point, an expression of gratitude lacing her face, still dazed from what I did to her, still agitated, despite the many orgasms I forced on her—she’s deeply relaxed and filled with a sense of safety.
In this very moment, she would do anything for me. She would lie, she would betray, she would commit a crime. And that’s exactly what I will need from her eventually, even if she doesn’t know it. It will take more than a few good orgasms, more than just one session like this… but people would be surprised at how little it takes to make a puppet dance for you just like you want them to. It’s so easy that it’s almost appalling to me.
Yet I know that no one makes my puppets dance as beautifully as I do.
No one makes them suffer like I do.
No one earns their addicted commitment like I do.
That dazzling spark in their eyes after a session like this is evidence of my victory, and their ruin.
I have yet to see that fateful flicker in her eyes.
Alena is strong, unyielding, and a prisoner of her own memories. I’ve known that for a long time, and it’s the reason why I chose her to be my last puppet, the most precious one, the hardest to crack—and the one who will gain the biggest reward in the end.
I break another rule when I decide to smile at her, and she reciprocates, the distress from before still casting a shadow over her expression. A beautiful shadow, I might add.
“This is dangerous,” she whispers, catching me off-guard.
I arch an eyebrow at her, unsure what she’s referring to.
“Don’t worry, you can handle more than you th—”
“No, that’s not what I mean,” she cuts me off, still speaking in a dreamy whisper.
“Then what do you mean?”
The smile on her face turns into a sad one, and a single tear runs down her cheek before she hides her face in my body.
“It’s dangerous,” she breathes against my chest. “Because it’s too good.”
Chapter 32
Alena
It’s dangerous, because it’s too good.
I said those words a week ago, on our very first day together. I meant it then, and they still hold true to this day.
What he did to me that day was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. I didn’t know what unrestrained pleasure could feel like. I had no idea how glorious it could be to completely lose yourself in it. I didn’t care what I looked like. I didn’t care what I sounded like. I didn’t care what I did, how I moved, what I said.
Nothing mattered but that aggressive delectation tearing my body apart while my mind had long been silenced.
It was insane, it was frightening, it was painful, it was unbridled euphoria—and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Something died in me that day, something bad that’s been poisoning my mind and body like a tumor. He broke it, and then he helped reassemble the scattered pieces to something better, something stronger.
When I came back to my senses, I found myself wrapped in his arms, his body’s warmth soothing me while I adored the chiseled lines of his abdomen. I thought I was imagining things at first when I saw him getting undressed in front of me. I thought I saw him through the eyes of a drunken person, but the more I drifted out of my dazed mental space, the more I realized that this was truly him. His tan skin stretched across a sculptured physique, speckled with just a little soft black hair across his strong chest.
We stayed in bed for a few minutes before he ushered me to the bathroom, where he joined me under the shower and washed my entire body. It was intimate and gentle, but I wasn’t allowed to do a thing. Every time I lifted my hands to touch him or do anything of my own accord, he hooked his fingers through the little rings at my cuffs and guided my hands back down and away from him. It was agony in itself, because I wanted nothing more than to touch him, to kiss him, to caress his perfect muscles and run soap across his chiseled abs.
But he didn’t let me. He handled me like his property, turning me, lifting my arms, teasing me by cupping my boobs as he lathered my entire body. His touch was possessive and demanding, but so sensual at the same time.
I still revel in the memories of that day, even though there have been so many similar to it since. But no day was like the first. There was a magic during that first afternoon that lasted well into the night, even though I’ve had to spend it alone, just like every night since then.
Sleeping all alone in that huge bed was easy on my first night because I was so exhauste
d from the events of that day. It was a long one, starting with my first flight in a private jet, drinking too much champagne, crazy nerves as I drove up to his house, having to strip in front of him, being humiliated and teased and denied an orgasm I wanted so much just to endure the most painful and most rewarding experience of my life a few minutes later. He cooked for me that night, which was another scenario during which I wasn’t allowed to make any move on my own. He gave me orders left and right, telling me exactly what to do and in what order, and I obeyed like a trained puppy.
I’m not used to this. Throughout my life I’ve had to make so many decisions, small and big, for myself and for my little sister, and I deliberately chose a job that asked the same of me. I never thought of myself as a compliant worker, but during that first night, I savored it to the fullest degree.
Riley would be shocked if she had seen me that night. Watching me take orders from a man while working for him in the kitchen would probably shock her more than what happened in the bedroom earlier. I’m sure of that, especially after I heard her little tale about what got her fired from her job.
I wonder how she’s doing now. She arrived at my apartment a couple of days after I left and I know she’s in a somewhat tight spot right now. She didn’t want to let it show because that is just how she is, especially with me. Riley never wants to worry me any more than she absolutely has to.
On the contrary, in recent years she even tried to turn the tables in that regard and become the one worrying about me. I never knew how to feel about that, but I know that I appreciate her concern right now. It soothes me that there is someone other than Melina out there who knows where I am and who I am with.
I peel myself out of the heavy sheets and crawl out of bed, a motion that is greeted with an annoyed mewl from my side. The cat has been sleeping with me most nights, always curled up in the same spot at the far left corner next to my feet. He knows that, but has never said a word about it, so I’m assuming that I’m not breaking any rules by having this furry little companion with me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper at her, reciprocating her grumpy sneer with an apologetic smile.
I still haven’t found the perfect name for her, but I know one thing: this little ball of white fur brings me consolation when I most need it.
Because not every day in here has been like the first. I’m beginning to feel the confinement that comes with being his puppet more and more. It was a relief to not be allowed to decide anything by myself during my first day here, but now that a week has passed, I feel my liberal nature fighting against a cage that starts to feel smaller and smaller—while my heart grows more and more confused.
Don’t fall for him, Riley warned me, only repeating something I’ve been telling myself from day one. I don’t want to fall for him, because I know there is no possible life with him. He is the Puppetmaster, and once he’s done with me, he’ll end our contract and send me back into the world without ever wanting to see me again. That’s how he’s done it with all the girls before me and that’s what he’ll do to me.
I need to remember that. There is no life with a man like him.
I wrap myself in the light pink morning robe he gave me–just like everything else I’ve been wearing for the past week—and meander to the window, opening the curtains to look outside. My room faces the small but well-appointed backyard, which is filled with marble decor and a seating area next to a small pond that hosts a few Koi carps. A narrow path, lined out with white stones, curves around the pond and leads toward the flowerbeds in the back. Fall has colored the leaves in bright orange and yellow colors all around and sends a chilly breeze through the yard.
There’s a black bench right beneath my window with a small table next to it. He sits there a lot, even when I’d say it’s too cold to be outside. But the most peculiar thing is not that he sits there despite the cool autumn temperatures—it’s the time of day during which I’ve seen him sit there.
He has a weird habit of getting up very early in the morning, staying up for about an hour, during which time he sits outside smoking a cigarette and either reading or working on some paperwork. Then he ambles inside and appears to go back to bed for a couple more hours. I didn’t notice this until my second night. I was restless and awake myself when I noticed the light down on the terrace switching on. At first I thought he was just having trouble sleeping like I was, but it appears to be his normal routine.
I know this because I’ve adopted this weird habit myself. I wake up when the light flicks on, even though it’s not bright enough keep me awake. I walk over to the window and stand watching him in the shadows of my curtains, sitting there, the smoke of his cigarette dancing through the atmosphere in milky clouds while he wiles away the hour.
It’s a mystery to me, but for some reason I have not asked him about it. It seems to be a private time for him, a secret that he wouldn’t want to share with anyone.
Then again, I figure he must know that I can see him from up here. If he really didn’t want me to know about his habit, it doesn’t seem logical that he would go outside and turn the light on, drawing attention to himself.
I tighten the belt of the robe around my body, glancing over to the clock on the nightstand next to the bed. It’s almost nine, which means I should hurry to get myself ready and then wait for him to connect the strings to my cuffs and start another day as his puppet.
Chapter 33
Raad
I pace back and forth in my office, faced with a problem I’ve never had before, a problem that could ruin everything if I don’t find a way to rectify it.
When Alena opened her bank account, she opted for a special security clause that mandates she appear in person to conduct almost every type of banking business. With all of the other puppets, having a proxy was sufficient to allow me to do what I needed to do, but in Alena’s case, the clause overrides that approach. I even talked with various managers and they have all said the same thing: Alena must be present and there is simply no way around it.
Of course, this problem only occurred because I’m taking a bigger risk with Alena. It’s a bigger purchase, so big in fact that it draws attention—and drawing attention is the last thing I want to do. In fact, it’s the exact opposite of what I want to do.
Why did I not consider there might be a hitch in the plans? Even without that clause, I might have encountered trouble with this transaction, if not simply because we’re talking about a much larger sum than what I usually move.
It strikes me as a fucking quirk of fate that of all my puppets, she would be the one who’d give me extra trouble on more than one account. Just as there was another quirk of fate that I had made my peace with: the fact that she had shown up for a hunt sooner than I had intended but that it could actually work to my advantage—meaning that I could bring my plan to an end sooner than expected. I’m running out of time, and if I want to get this done, it would have to happen sooner rather than later. There’s too much at stake to treat this as a second order of business.
Grinding my teeth, I shove the folder with Alena’s papers back into the safe and march out of the room.
I’m almost tempted to contact my black sheep brother about this, because I know he’s more familiar with committing fraud than I am, but deep down I know that it would be a stupid thing to do. We have enough skeletons in our closets and I’m already moving in a gray area with all of this to say the least. I have no intention of adding fraud to the list already adorning my résumé.
I will have to find a way to get Alena to do this for me without her knowing what she’s doing. It will be tough, but not impossible.
Nothing is impossible.
I walk up to her room knowing she’ll be waiting for me to get her, just like every morning. She has turned into a surprisingly compliant little puppet ever since that tantalizing first day. The day that bonded us together more closely than I have ever been with any puppet before.
My eyes narrow just like the clamp that seems to
tighten around my chest when I catch myself contemplating that thought.
She may be special, but she’s still nothing but a puppet. I will cut her strings just like I have cut them for everyone else. She will cry and beg me to keep her, just like all of them have done before, but I will still do it because I know I have to.
I know she hears my steps approaching long before I open the door. Usually I find her greeting me with an expectant smile on her face, either kneeling on the floor or sitting on the bed with her legs dangling over the edge.
Today, though, she’s standing by the window, turning around on the spot when I step inside the room, a surprised look on her face as if she’s seeing me for the very first time. She looks as angelic as always, dressed lightly in a cream-colored ensemble, a sexy little thong with matching bra and stockings, no garter belt, but a see-through kimono that stops at her knees and reveals more than it hides.
“Good morning, puppet,” I say, my voice dark and guarded.
She smiles at me, but it’s not genuine. There’s a shadow cast across her expression. She’s hiding something.
“Good morning, Master,” she pipes in response, her voice a bit too high.
She walks toward me with her hands stretched out in front of her, just like I taught her to. Our days never quite look the same, but they all have one thing in common: we don’t start before I’m holding the strings attached to her cuffs.
I’m no longer using the jute rope from day one. I have upgraded her to the proper leather strings that connect with a small metallic clip and are more durable and resilient than the rope. I learned on the first day that she will need more than the simple rope to keep her in place. I haven’t spanked her since that day, but the colors my punishment left on her behind are just beginning to fade.