Page 63 of The Puppetmaster

Am I allowed to come yet? Do I want to come already? I don’t want this to be over.

He grabs me by the hips and increases the ferocity of his motions, now propelling into me with a force that was inconceivable just a few moments ago, but feels exquisite right now.

“Come,” he breathes between shoves. “Come with me.”

I want to lift my hand and move it between my legs, like I usually would in this position, but with the clamp holding my sensitive parts in a tight grip and the little stones caressing my clit, I see no use for it. Instead, I hollow my back a little further, changing the angle just enough to take him in even deeper, his pelvis ramming against my ass and his strong body pushing against the tormenting metal between my legs.

The first waves of my orgasm are so mellow that I almost miss them, confused at the slow buildup that announces the rapture that’s about to tear me apart. And just when I finally hit that delicious peak, my world turns upside down, my vision blurs and my soul seems to yell out with frantic joy. I can feel the pulsations of his peak deep inside me as we’re overcome with joint exaltation once again.

Chapter 39

Raad

It has been twenty-three days with her, and by now I can’t deny the fact that I don’t want Alena to leave.

We developed a routine, just like I do with all my puppets. Routines make people feel safe, they soothe them even under distressing circumstances, and while they may still perceive me as unpredictable, at least they have something to hold on to, some security, a sense of control.

Alena has been granted a lot more of that control than I’m usually willing to relinquish. She can be so delightfully demure when she wants to be, but when we’re not playing, she’s exactly the kind of woman I felt so drawn to from the moment I first saw her.

That day has been ingrained in my brain for years, and when I look at her now, I still find it hard to believe that we’re actually here.

That she is here, with me, in my house, as my puppet.

It’s something I never could have imagined back then, because I wasn’t the man I am today when I first laid eyes on her.

Years ago, when I visited her in the hospital.

She was unconscious then, and I was only able to get close to her because my lawyer pulled some strings. I never talked to her, but I learned her story nevertheless–because I needed to once I saw her. I was told about the incident that put her there, and the story I’d heard didn’t line up with the girl I saw lying before me.

She looked so small, so innocent, and nothing like the brute she’d been described as.

“How could a girl like that do something like this?” I asked back then, and my question was met with a lot of unhelpful shrugs.

Because no one cared. All they knew was that there was a victim and a culprit, and Alena was the latter.

I know she thinks that too, but I know it to be different. And soon I hope to be able to prove that to her.

But for that, I need her to do something for me that won’t sit well with her.

For the past two weeks, I’ve been agonizing about a way out of this, a way to circumvent the rules. It’s not like I haven’t done it before. I’ve always gotten my way, even if it meant moving deep into a gray or even black area. I always found a way to make things work the way I wanted them to and not how they were dictated by external factors.

But this time I find myself at a dead end. Alena trusts me; she may even like me a little too much. She declared that what we’re doing was dangerous, because it was too good. That and her reclusive behavior showed a kind of self-reflection that I’m not used to from my puppets.

The girls before her were all the same—they all fell for me, and they all fell hard. They were stupid enough to just let it happen, fooled by my strings and the manipulation I inflicted upon them. They danced beautifully, but their heads were just as empty as their eyes, following my guidance with nothing but their hearts.

Alena never let her guard down like that—and it bothers the fuck out of me.

Why of all puppets does she have to be the one whose mind is the hardest to break? She let me in just enough to watch her dance before me, but she was never blinded as to what this was or who I am.

But that’s exactly what I need from her right now, as agonizing as that thought may be.

I’m lost. For the first time in my life, I have no fucking idea what to do.

It’s a sinister quirk of fate that I’m left with only one person to ask for advice at this point, and I’m hesitant to act on it.

I’ve been sitting in my office for hours, the door closed, while Alena is upstairs in her room. The day has just started, and one rule she always adheres to is to stay in her room until I get her, which means the morning hours are the only time when I’m a hundred percent sure that she’s not straying through the house, playing with the cat, or reading one of the books she was allowed to bring.

I’m weighing the phone in my hand, staring at it as if that would make the problem go away.

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