Page 18 of Theirs to Chase

“Be patient, puppet. Your release will be all the sweeter.” He grins. “Let’s go play with our little toy.” He grips my throat, and I can’t help the moan escaping my lips.

“Yes, master.”

“Good boy,” he praises, putting on a Ghostface mask with a hidden smirk on his lips. “It’s game time.”

The Doll Master

I enter the seating area, a Ghostface mask concealing my features. The pretty little doll has no idea what kind of trap she has walked into—she’s ours now.

Forever.

I come up behind her, and she startles. “Oh god, you scared me,” she nervously laughs.

She catches sight of the Ghostface mask, swallowing harshly, yet I can feel the arousal oozing out from her.

“Did you call the cops?” she asks, and I curtly nod in response, not saying anything.

She seems to catch on to the act, because she licks her lips. “You want to chase me?”

I tilt my head, remaining silent. The tension in the air is thick, and my cock strains, uncomfortable against my pants, even after the blissful blowjob Eros just gave me.

I can’t wait to have her as my doll along with my little puppet.

“Göm dig,”I cruelly whisper. “If I catch you, I will fuck you and then punish you until the only name you can scream is mine.Spideris the safe word.”

“Do we really need one?” she naively asks.

“Oh,min mardröm. The unethical things I want to do to you.”

“Will you hurt me?” Her voice strains from nerves, but I see her thighs clenching together. I nod.

“Okay,” she whispers. “Spider it is,” she says, as if trying the word on her tongue.

“You better hide well, because you’ve just walked into a den of devils.”

Chapter 8

Eveline

I scramble out ofthe room, heart in my throat. This mansion is like a fucking maze, I could sense it from the outside.

A voice inside my head tells me I should run away from here—find Max and Nadia and get the fuck away. This is too dangerous. I don’t feel safe here, but at the same time, I haven’t felt safe since the day my family died.

Arousal has me clenching my thighs, and I foolishly run along the hallway. Paintings from a time far away, in the colors of black and white, hang on the walls, depicting families and people that all stare ominously into the camera—gazes set, shoulders tightened, jaws clenched. In another photo, a man holds a knife as he brutally stabs a woman, and I nearly lose my footing.

How can someone willingly want to have paintings like these hanging inside their home?

I ignore the goddamn paintings, continuing along the hallway with its flickering light that casts a dim glow. I can hardly see where I put my feet.

The floor vibrates with the force of my weight slamming into it as I scramble to run as far away from the seating area as possible.

It feels like a nightmare—a sick, twisted one that has my pussy craving for more but my mind terrified.

I find a grand staircase ascending to the floor above, the marble surface cold and hard against my feet. If I slip, I’ll be as good as dead if I hit my head.

I use the railing for support, noticing how dusty it is, making me think of how unlived this place appears.

“Little pumpkin,” his voice hisses from downstairs.

---