Page 51 of The Puppetmaster

“Let it go,” I tell her. “I will come deep down your throat and there’s nothing you can do it about it, puppet.”

She mewls something, her body squirming as she tries to evade my movements, but that only makes me push harder and deeper. I shove my entire length down her throat, watching from above as she struggles for air while I can see my rod disappearing. Saliva is dripping down her face when I retreat for a few seconds to let her catch her breath, and after a few moments of coughing and desperate gasps for air, she’s the one who parts her lips and begs for me to continue.

The sight of it drives me insane, and when I drive back into her mouth, I can already feel my orgasm building up. I slam into her throat as she wails and gags beneath me, her body coiling with lust, her toes curling while she spreads her legs helplessly.

She’s suffocating on my length—and she’s fucking enjoying it.

That realization sends me over the edge, and I freeze as my climax overcomes me like a sudden rapture, coating the very back of her throat with my cum while I pull at her strings, holding her arms in a tight stretched-out position.

“Fuuuck,” I hiss dizzily while the crests keep coming, the buzz almost too much to bear. I know I must let her breathe, but I can’t. I don’t want to pull out of this heaven while I’m still riding these waves of unbridled bliss.

She writhes below me, desperate for air and fighting her gag reflex, and I manage just in time to withdraw and let my puppet breathe. She begins coughing heavily right away, a blend of cum and saliva dripping down her face when I hurry to pull her up by the strings so she doesn’t choke on it any longer.

I manage to get her into a seated position and let go of the strings to wrap my arms around her, holding her trembling body while I lie next to her on the bed.

She cowers in my arms, her eyes drenched in tears, her cheeks still flushed from the exertion, seeking comfort in the arms that did this to her.

And then she looks up at me like they all do at some point, an expression of gratitude lacing her face, still dazed from what I did to her, still agitated, despite the many orgasms I forced on her—she’s deeply relaxed and filled with a sense of safety.

In this very moment, she would do anything for me. She would lie, she would betray, she would commit a crime. And that’s exactly what I will need from her eventually, even if she doesn’t know it. It will take more than a few good orgasms, more than just one session like this… but people would be surprised at how little it takes to make a puppet dance for you just like you want them to. It’s so easy that it’s almost appalling to me.

Yet I know that no one makes my puppets dance as beautifully as I do.

No one makes them suffer like I do.

No one earns their addicted commitment like I do.

That dazzling spark in their eyes after a session like this is evidence of my victory, and their ruin.

I have yet to see that fateful flicker in her eyes.

Alena is strong, unyielding, and a prisoner of her own memories. I’ve known that for a long time, and it’s the reason why I chose her to be my last puppet, the most precious one, the hardest to crack—and the one who will gain the biggest reward in the end.

I break another rule when I decide to smile at her, and she reciprocates, the distress from before still casting a shadow over her expression. A beautiful shadow, I might add.

“This is dangerous,” she whispers, catching me off-guard.

I arch an eyebrow at her, unsure what she’s referring to.

“Don’t worry, you can handle more than you th—”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” she cuts me off, still speaking in a dreamy whisper.

“Then what do you mean?”

The smile on her face turns into a sad one, and a single tear runs down her cheek before she hides her face in my body.

“It’s dangerous,” she breathes against my chest. “Because it’s too good.”

Chapter 32

Alena

It’s dangerous, because it’s too good.

I said those words a week ago, on our very first day together. I meant it then, and they still hold true to this day.

What he did to me that day was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. I didn’t know what unrestrained pleasure could feel like. I had no idea how glorious it could be to completely lose yourself in it. I didn’t care what I looked like. I didn’t care what I sounded like. I didn’t care what I did, how I moved, what I said.

---