Page 38 of The Puppetmaster

“If you’re ready for it.”

The weight in his words scares me a little, and when he hands me a pen before presenting the first page for me to sign, it feels as if I’m about to surrender my life to him.

And I guess in a way I am.

The contract clearly states that there is no way out for me. I can’t leave him; I can’t even leave the house without his permission. I will be completely under his control for as long as he wants me.

I read the contract carefully, taking my time just as he asked me to. Again and again, the words blur before my eyes as I become impatient and try to fly over sections that seem pretty common sense and thus redundant to me. Others, however, make my heart kickstart with fear.

You knew this. You knew what it would be like, I try to remind myself.

But did I really? Do I really understand what it means to not be a free agent for weeks, maybe months? Would it be as liberating as I hoped it to be?

The idea of having him make all the decisions for me and become the center of his attention in return is still titillating to say the least. I like the way the delicate leather cuffs feel around my wrists and my core pulsates with excitement every time he pulls at the strings in even the slightest way.

The ends of the strings are resting in his lap as he sits next to me, waiting and watching as I read and sign the paperwork in front of me. He’s still completely dressed while I’m butt-naked, my nipples still hard from his teasing and my entrance so wet that I keep my legs pushed closely together in fear of leaving an embarrassing stain on his fancy furniture.

I leave my signature on the first page of the contract, which basically states everything I already knew. It might be my imagination, but I feel like he’s pretty tense himself, but he relaxes next to me as soon as I write my signature. He takes away the signed paper right away and points to the next page. It contains my bank information and asks for me to give him authority to access my bank account. It doesn’t come as a surprise because he asked for all of this on the documents I left in the box at The Velvet Rooms, but it still worries me.

“This… this I actually have some questions about,” I stutter, hoping that I’m not ruining everything. “I mean… why do you need this?”

I turn to him, suddenly overcome by a very uncomfortable thought. “It’s not because you’re planning to pay me for this, right? Because that would be—”

“No,” he cuts me off in a sharp tone, narrowing his eyes. “I wouldn’t need a proxy to pay you, doll.”

He’s right about that. I clear my throat, glossing over my stupid question with another.

“Then what do you need it for?”

He nods, the expression on his face softening. “You’re smart to wonder about this, but trust me, it’s nothing to worry about. It’s simply a matter of precaution. You won’t have access to it while you’re here, and I assume no one else has access to it either. I want you to vanish from the world, so that’s why I also asked you not to share the truth about this with more people than you absolutely have to.”

He pins me down with an inquiring look. “I assume you didn’t?”

I shake my head, pressing my lips together as I’m not sure if I really kept my end of the bargain.

“Just two people know,” I shyly whisper. “My friend Melina, who works at the club, and…”

“And your sister,” he concludes my sentence.

I nod, relieved to see no concern on his face when our eyes meet again.

“That’s fine,” he assures me. “But I presume neither of them has access to your finances?”

I shake my head. “Of course not.”

“See, what if something comes up during your absence?” he offers. “What if you’re hit with some unexpected financial trouble? What if your savings aren’t sufficient to continue paying your rent while you’re here?”

“That won’t be an issue,” I interject. “My sister is staying at my place. She’ll be paying the rent while I’m gone.”

His dark eyebrows arch in surprise, and for a moment I worry that this was actually something he didn’t like to hear. But he doesn’t say a word and simply nods at the paper in front of me.

“It’s a simple matter of precaution—for your sake. Sign it if you trust me,” he urges. “And if you don’t trust me, you shouldn’t be here in the first place.”

Another good point. I pause only a moment before quickly scribbling my signature underneath the proxy. He’s right. I wouldn’t even be here if I didn’t trust him.

“Thank you,” he says as he takes the paper away, and when I cast him a questioning look he adds, “For your trust. I won’t betray it.”

I try to catch his black gaze, but he evades my eyes, seemingly busy with turning to the next page for me to go over and sign.

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