Page 14 of The Puppetmaster

She walks fast as she meanders through the room, ignoring every single gaze that follows her as she makes her way up to the stage.

I never have a plan for my hunts, because I know I don’t need to. Things always evolve as they should.

Tonight, of course, was different, because I learned that Alena would be here. But even that hiccup did not force me to come up with a detailed plan—and what little I did plan never came to fruition because I went astray as soon as the evening started. I walked right up to Alena the moment I saw her sitting at the bar, and then I went from there.

She takes her position exactly as I asked her to, compliantly sitting down on her heels, exposing the white lace adornment of her lingerie and the lavish waves of her chocolate brown hair trailing seductively down her athletic back. Her head is tilted forward, causing a few strands to fall over her shoulders, partly hiding her face as they frame it. She doesn’t lift a finger to move them aside.

I remain seated for a few more minutes, my eyes locked onto the alluring creature on stage. She was considerate enough to place herself right beneath a soft spotlight cascading on the stage.

Even from afar I can see her shoulders moving through her erratic breathing. She’s very tense and unraveled at first, obviously fighting with the challenge I presented her with—but she’s doing it nonetheless. And with each breath I can see her calming down, her shoulders slowly sinking as she begins to relax.

I scan the room, wandering through the crowd to see how many of them are paying attention to my little toy. Most of the heads that turned to her at first have now reverted to whatever they were doing before, but there are others glancing at her now and then. Sometimes their eyes linger before they turn away, sometimes they dart back and forth between me and her, questions written across their faces.

I know I can’t sit up here forever. My hunt is not over, despite what may be going on inside my head. There has to be a competition, and for that, I need to find suitable competitors for Alena. My mind shouldn’t be set on her this early.

Baby steps, Raad, baby steps.

Despite my better judgment, I know she will be mine. But that doesn’t change the fact that I will have to find at least two other girls to challenge Alena’s position.

And what if she fails?

She won’t.

She can’t.

I pull my eyes away from her, determined to divert my focus to the task at hand. Subtle unrest spreads through the room when I get up from my chair. It’s just minor fidgeting, a nervous twitch that electrifies the room for a split second, but it’s palpable.

My steps are slow but deliberate when I make my way back to the main room, carefully browsing the guests for white wristbands. A few familiar faces meet mine, not all of them are women or former play partners. I always make sure to invite a few fellow gentlemen, but only those who are attached to their own dolls, because—unlike my girls—I don’t need competition to prove my worth.

It’s a known rule that no one is allowed to approach me or talk to me. I’m the one to initiate any form of communication. But I don’t mind the occasional nod in greeting, often accompanied by a respectful smile.

It doesn’t take long before I pass a guy named Damon, one of the VIP patrons who helped finance the club when it first opened. He’s in the company of his wife, who used to work here.

We exchange a polite but distant nod, and he mirrors my greeting when I wish him a good evening.

We shared a drink together during my first visit to the club, and while I respect Damon for his excellent business sense, I couldn’t help but be annoyed by their lovey-dovey bullshit story.

One thing is for sure: that willneverbe me.

I have every intention of owning my puppets, and I will own Alena in every sense of the word. But I will never be dumb enough to lose my head because of her. Love is a highly valued but dangerous emotion, reserved for those who lack the backbone to conquer life on their own. I don’t suffer from this kind of deficiency, thank God.

I continue to meander through the room, my path as aimless as my wandering thoughts. In spite of my intent, my eyes keep roaming back to Alena. And every single time, she’s sitting in the exact same spot, in the exact same position, just as I told her to. She’s so still that one could mistake her for a lifeless stature.

What a good girl.

I’m sure she’s finding solace in her punishment, because I took something away from her that she was all too willing to give. Responsibility. She doesn’t have to think about what to do next, she doesn’t have to ponder, consider, torment herself with an array of options, because she doesn’t have any. All she can do is sit there on display while still shielding herself from the world.

It will get harder for her to do with every passing moment. Her body will itch to move, she will want to shift as her legs start feeling numb, and curiosity may force her attention back to the room and her surroundings, maybe in search of me. God help her if she gives in to any of those impulses.

A faint glimmer of ire flares deep inside me at the thought of it. There would be a much more severe punishment if she did any of those things, a punishment that would leave no room for any self-discovery or reflection.

But I trust her. I trust Alena to prove herself to me.

Because that’s what she was made for.

Chapter 9

Alena

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