Page 17 of The Puppetmaster

I cast her a warning look, and she reciprocates with an apologetic but somewhat sassy smile. She’s not sorry for her little blunder.

“Yes, it is,” I opt in response—and her smile widens.

“But this doesn’t mean we’re finalizing anything,” I interject. “The competition is far from over.”

Her face hardens and she swallows dryly before nodding. “I understand.”

“I don’t think you do,” I tell her. “So I will tell you. I narrowed it down to three girls, you and two others. I will interview all three of you and base my decision on that—that and the task I will leave you with once we have agreed upon the general conditions.”

What I just told her is only partially true. It is true that I have spoken to other girls downstairs, and it’s also true that I told two of them that I will want to talk to them later.

But neither of them is any competition for Alena. This is all for show, for appearances, and in the end, it’s also for Alena’s sake because we both need to make sure that she’s really up for this.

Still, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I fucking love the hint of jealousy that shadows her face for a moment after my revelation about the other two competitors.

“Of course,” she produces through compressed lips.

“You know the main parameters: if I decide to take you on as my next puppet, it will mean that you’re entirely dependent on my strings. You will be mine in every sense of the word. You will come to live with me in New York and you will not be allowed to leave my home at any point—unless I decide to bring my little fuck toy outside to play. Do you understand?”

A blush colors her cheeks when I say those last few words. What a naughty little girl. Is she an exhibitionist? Would she want me to present her? To publicly humiliate her? To share her, even?

I’m not saying I would want to do any of those things, but fuck, if she turns out to love those scenarios, I would gladly provide.

“I understand.”

Her voice is firm, as is the expression on her pretty face.

“You will be locked away, shielded from the outside, completely at my mercy. There will be no safe words, no discussion of hard limits. We will have nothing but trust between us.”

She nods along as I speak, and while she looks resolved to everything I say, I have trouble trusting her. Skepticism is a constant companion in these negotiations, and that’s a good thing. Just like every other puppet before her, Alena is eager and willing but oblivious to the reality of our contract—until she’s living it. I can’t change that, but Icanmake sure that she’s in the know about the ramifications that come with her decision to become mine as much as possible.

That’s why I’m relieved to see a spark of resistance appear on her face when she regards me now.

“No safe words, no hard limits,” she repeats, arching her left brow. It’s not a question, but her look still demands a response. I’m not troubled by it because my answer is clear.

“I won’t ask you about your hard limits because I know that your mind won’t tell the same story as your body,” I explain. “You’ll scream, you’ll fight, and you may hate me for what I will do to you—but if you get wet, I won’t stop.”

I love seeing how my words affect her. Her eyes widen, the color of her cheeks darkens ever so slightly, and her chest heaves with need. It’s a subtle response, but so palpable that it makes my cock hard. She’s so responsive to my promises, no matter how frightening.

Fuck, I can’t wait to play with her.

“What if I… don’t?” she stutters now, her eyelashes fluttering nervously as she fights to maintain eye contact with me.

“If you don’t get wet?”

She nods, pressing her lips together.

“That’s when we’ll stop,” I say. “Or change the pace. This is for my pleasure, and it doesn’t do anything for me if my puppet is in plain agony. Usually.”

“Ooo… okay.”

She swallows dryly, concern written across her face.

“Have you ever been another man’s slave before?”

She shakes her head. “No. Is that a problem?”

On the fucking contrary. That means I get to break you in.

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