Page 11 of The Puppetmaster

“Because you—”

“It’s a natural assumption,” he says in a short tone. “This is not the first hunt for a majority of the girls here tonight, but unlike you, they all managed to apply by the deadline.”

“Still, I’m here,” I tease, accenting my words with a wink.

I can tell that my tart remark amuses him, but it seems like he doesn’t want to let it show too much.

“You’re here, yes,” he admits. “You’re here because I can be a merciful master if I choose to be. But that doesn’t mean your misconduct will go unpunished.”

His words send a shiver through me, and I nod. “You’ve implied that before, but—”

“What do you think, Alena? What should your punishment be?”

I suck in a sharp breath of air, taken aback at another question that I did not see coming.

“But... I’m not your—” I stammer.

“Let’s assume you were,” he insists. “If you were mine and you were guilty of breaking one of my rules, how should I punish you?”

My entire body stiffens. Is he seriously expecting me to answer that question? What am I supposed to say? What kind of weird test is this? How am I supposed to know what punishment he considers appropriate for my offense?

Does he even consider it a minor offense? Would a spanking suffice? Is a spanking even a proper punishment?

The thought makes my heart start to race. Would he spank me? Here? In front of all these people? I know that he has done similar things before, so it wouldn’t be out of the question.

My whole body blazes with heat at the thought—a sweet fever fueled by both shame and excitement.

My lips move, but no words come out. Numerous scenarios flash through my mind. Still, I don’t dare voice any of them because I don’t want to give him any ideas. I also don’t want lie to him, or give the impression that I wouldn’t be able to handle one of his punishments.

Because I know I can.

And I know I want to be challenged by him.

“You are the Puppetmaster,” I remind him. “Shouldn’t it be up to you to decide my punishment?”

His eyes flicker ominously.

“And you would agree to it?”

“Shouldn’t I, if I want to be yours?”

I expect him to smile at me in approval, or at least nod in response, but instead his expression darkens. He looks anything but happy. I would even go as far as to say that he looks disappointed in me. Was it that important to him for me to be the one to come up with my own punishment? Is this how he always operates? Does he test potential puppets on their ability to come up with responses that are comparable to what he would as Master?

God, I hate this. I hate not knowing. I hate not understanding what’s going on or what’s expected of me. I don’t even know if he is seriously interviewing me or just passing time until he’s ready to officially launch his hunt.

“Are you sure you’re up for this, Alena?”

His question feels like a stab to my heart, and I bite my lower lip instead of replying.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

I flinch when he moves suddenly, leans forward, his elbows coming to rest on his knees. His intense gaze bores right into my soul.

“Because I want to become—”

“No, I don’t want to hear that,” he storms. “Every girl with a white wristband is here because she thinks she wants to become my next puppet. And most—like you, it seems—don’t even know what that means. I don’t want to hear it. I want to hear whyyou’rehere, Alena. Why areyouhere tonight?”

My pulse speeds as I try to maintain eye contact with him. His penetrating stare nearly guts me. It’s so weirdly knowledgeable, as if he were staring right into the deepest part of my soul, unraveling the answer to his question on his own.

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