Page 61 of The Puppetmaster

A weak smile plays on Alena’s face when she gets back on her feet, letting the kimono glide down her shoulders so she stands before me adorned with nothing but the lacy bra and the jewels dangling between her pink lips. I bought the clamp especially for her, despite not knowing if and when I would ever use it on her. Things like this cannot be planned before I’ve met my puppet, before I’ve tasted her, and before I know what buttons to push with her.

I stand still, waiting patiently as she makes her way over to me, her legs always slightly parted when she sets one foot before the other, her back hollowed and a constant pressure applied to her clit. I know she can feel it with every step she takes, the impact of it written all over her face.

I expect her to sink down on her knees before me, but she opts for my shirt first, casting me a cheeky grin as she begins unbuttoning it at the top.

“You said to show you how much I want my master,” she counters in a sultry voice. “Well, he’s more than just a walking cock to me. I want more of him—all of him.”

Her words are heavy with meaning, as is the depth of her ocean-colored eyes when they meet mine. Her expression is determined and fierce, not giving in to her desire to submit to me just yet.

I not only let it happen, but enjoy watching it unravel before my eyes, relishing the way her fingertips grace along my skin when she frees me of my shirt, opening each button with indulgence. She lets her hands glide beneath the fabric, tracing the outline of my muscles as she moves up to my shoulders and then along my upper arms, taking the shirt with her. It glides down to the floor and she follows the motion, slowly going down on her knees while she moves her face so close that I can feel her hot breath traveling down my body.

Her hands casually caress my bulge when she reaches my pants, and she positions herself up on her knees as she unbuckles my belt.

It’s now that I notice her strings hanging idly to the ground instead of being secured in my hands like they usually are. A scare rushes through my body, bringing a hint of fury with it as I’m overcome with the fear of losing control.

I curl my hands into fists, fighting the urge to reach for the strings and possibly kill the moment. This is a consideration I’ve never had to make before. I’ve never lost control of a puppet before, and I’ve never played with any of them without having their strings secured in one way or another. Either I’ve used them to tie the girl down in some way or hold them to make sure I’m the one who decides what she can and cannot do with her hands.

Yet, right now, Alena is the one in charge. She frees my rock-hard length, not bothering to pull my pants down before she wraps her pretty lips greedily around it.

I groan with relish when I feel her tongue sliding hungrily along the lower side of my cock, drawing circles around the sensitive spot at the tip before she leans forward, her tongue pressed against my shaft as she takes in my entire length.

When her lips almost meet my base she stops, fighting her gag reflex while her hands travel up my legs. Hooking her fingers around the waistband, she pulls down my pants and briefs in one motion, all the while keeping my cock buried deep inside her throat.

I step out of my pants, cautious not to move more than I absolutely have to because I don’t want to shift away from her. If anything, I want to draw her closer.

I want more, just like she does.

She doesn’t fight it when I place my hands at the back of her head, pushing myself against the back of her throat. A sizzling sensation spreads through my body when her hands trail up the sides of my legs, her nails barely touching my skin, inflicting more of a promise than actual contact while the prickling adds to my need for her.

It’s so easy to make my puppets dance for me in fear. It’s easy to force them to comply with pain, to make them fall apart, tears running down their faces as they scream for mercy.

But it’s so much more satisfying to have them serve like this, like Alena does right now. She’s not acting out of fear or fleeing from the threat of being hurt. She’s pleasing me because she wants to, because sheneedsto.

That’s why she takes it like a good girl. That’s why she groans with lust when I begin pounding into her like a madman, fucking her face like there’s no tomorrow and reveling in the feeling of her throat being spread open by the fat tip of my cock.

I still have a decision to make. Even in this frenzied state, my mind has to stay clear enough to be aware of that fact. I have a dilemma to face, a path to choose.

And I have to make that decision soon.

Chapter 38

Alena

He fucks my throat so roughly that I get dizzy from the motions and the lack of air. I’m gagging and coughing when he stops, supporting myself on his legs while I struggle not to collapse on his feet, streams of saliva dripping down to the floor and mingling with the tears on my face.

I thought he was planning to come down my throat, because I know how much he loves doing that–and to be honest, I love it, too. It’s oddly gratifying and I love being used like this, turning into his little fuck toy and only existing for his pleasure.

And mine.

My core is on fire and throbbing with need when he hooks his hands under my armpits and roughly lifts me up from the floor. Stumbling, I follow his lead as he brings me back to the bed, pushing me onto the mattress with brutal force.

“Turn around,” he commands breathlessly.

I grimace as the clamp cuts into my flesh, my inner thighs rubbing against my swollen clit while I position myself on all fours, presenting myself in front of him.

Can he fuck me like this? Or will he remove the clamp before shoving his cock inside me?

The gem stones are dangling against my clit in this position, filling me with a hot spark of a tempting promise. But I’m pretty sure my entrance is blocked by the metal clip.

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