Page 42 of The Puppetmaster

He turns around and throws me on the sofa, his body never leaving mine and hovering closely above me as he continues to ram inside me. He’s so rough and demanding. His desire for me radiates through my entire body, sparking flames all the way up to my fingertips. I want to touch him, to wrap my arms around him and hold him even closer, but once again, he doesn’t let me. As I make a move to take charge, he reaches for the strings attached to my wrists and forces my hands up above my head while he continues to drive into me with ferocious hunger.

He keeps pounding into me while my stomach clenches with the pleasure building up throughout my core. I can’t take this much longer. I feel like I’m being torn apart, the impending rapture promising to be cathartic in its intensity and building back together whatever he may have taken from me.

“Come,” he urges, emphasizing his order with an especially deep but slower thrust. Caressing my oversensitive clit with his hard pelvis, he stays buried deep between my lips, drawing circles rather than moving back and forth. The sensation is overwhelming, it’s mind-numbing, blinding…

“Come!”

I clench around him on command, my eyes widening with surprise and crushing delight when I feel my climax washing through me in vast waves.

A groan echoes through the room as he joins me, his thick cock pulsating and throbbing inside me as he remains glued to me, spreading me with his entire length, both of us deliriously riding through our peak together. He’s still holding the strings, still keeping me pinned down and sprawled out underneath him as he owns me with his entire body. Breathing heavily, I seek his coal gaze, trying to understand what just happened. But when he reciprocates, I find the same drained bewilderment on his face that’s taken hold of me.

He didn’t plan this. Maybe he didn’t even want this. He lost control because of me—and he looks anything but happy about it.

Chapter 27

Raad

This is ridiculous. I’ve never been a man who gets tricked into doing things he doesn’t want to do by a woman. I wouldn’t be the infamous Puppetmaster if I weren’t the one pulling the strings. Always.

Fucking always.

This was the third time that Alena made me go off course and act on impulse instead of following my own rules. There’s nothing wrong with being guided by my puppet’s desires; it’s how I enjoy them the most. If her body revolts against me, I won’t force a prewritten plan on her because that wouldn’t give me any pleasure.

But this... this is going too far.

I don’t fuck my puppets on the very first day.Never. And I most certainly don’t fuck them like this, quick, mindless, vanilla almost.

The freshly signed papers are scattered across the table next to us. At least I got that out of the way before I lost control with her. But the ink wasn’t even dry by the time I forced myself on her, invaded her pretty little mouth with my greedy tongue and before I felt her wet pussy pulsating around my cock.

Fuck.

It was wrong. It was against everything I stand for.

But as much as this infuriates me, a part of me knows that I would do it all over again.

And maybe that’s what annoys me the most.

I’m still on top of her, her irresistible body still wrapped around me, her core still throbbing with the last remainders of her climax. I’m still as hard as I was when I first rammed into her, and despite our recent rapture, I feel anything but satisfied.

I want more of her. A lot more.

But I also don’t want to be impatient. I want to savor her until the very last moment she’s with me—however long that will be. I know it’s essentially up to me, but I don’t trust myself with Alena. I still hope for external factors to make that definite decision for me.

She looks up at me, a faint crease of worry appearing between her eyebrows.

She sees it. She sees my anger and regret about what just happened. But I don’t want her to see it, so I tear myself apart from her, a sense of loss scurrying through me when I retreat from her center.

She remains on the sofa, her body sprawled out from our play, her arms still above her head. The strings sidle across her tits, her legs still spread apart, a sinful drop of cum leaking between her soft lips. The sight is intoxicating and it has a pull on me that’s painful to resist.

If it were up to me, I’d turn her around and slip right back in there, fucking her from behind like an animal, maybe even take her ass next.

My cock twitches with need and I look down, reminded of a task I could give her to grant me at least a modicum of satisfaction for now.

“Clean me,” I tell her, stepping away from the sofa as I point to the floor in front of me. “On your knees, here.”

She responds with a bewildered look, her porcelain cheeks blushing slightly as she bites at her lower lip. A moment later, she gathers herself up, sliding down from the sofa and right onto her knees like a good little girl. I never told her to crawl to me, but she still decides to do it, making sure the strings attached to her wrists don’t get in the way as she neatly drapes them along at her sides.

She comes to a halt right in front of me, hollowing her back and turning her pretty eyes up to face me while her cuffed hands move up to my hard length. She’s almost shy in the way she touches me now, using only the tips of her fingers to guide my cock to her mouth. She leans forward, and as she begins to cautiously lick my thick head clean, electric sparks start coursing throughout my entire body. I’m unable to stop myself from twitching with bliss as her tongue works my cock. She licks it like a lollipop at first, carefully tasting and circling the tip before she trails along the shaft, still careful not to apply too much pressure.

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