Page 31 of Little Puppet

I shove the three fingers I had already worked inside before back into her pussy, going deeper than I had before, letting my thumb work over her clit for extra friction.

“Oh, God,” she whimpers, tugging on her bindings and lifting her ass to fuck my fingers down deeper.

“You want more, puppet?”

She nods. “More.”

“Good. Because I’m going to give you so much more.”

I add my pinky finger inside her, cupping my fingers together like a beak inside her sideways, moving them in and out slowly as they stretch her.

Twice, I splay my fingers, opening her a bit more to get her ready, and her gasping breaths only make me greedy and impatient to keep going.

“Ready, Grace?” I ask her, my tone dark, inky promise wavering in it.

“For what?” she asks, panting.

“To be my puppet, of course.” I shake my head at her ignorance as I add my thumb inside her and slowly move my hand fully inside her entrance.

Her eyes widen as she lifts her head and looks down at the onslaught.

“C—Cain,” she stammers, panic filling her voice.

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t do that, my perfect puppet. Relax.”

I feel her muscles give way some as she listens, her eyes still greedily watching my hand work in and out of her pretty cunt.

“Now, you wouldn’t be my puppet if I didn’t make you sing for me, would you?” I tease, finally curling my fingers against her G-spot one by one as I close my fist inside of her.

It’s never been like this before. Her eyes are eager, her cries are full of ecstasy and excitement, her body pliant for my fist that’s deep inside her.

I can almost feel the pitter-patter of her racing heart, and it contradicts my earlier words. I love to feel her warmth swallowing me. I love to feel how alive I make her.

I don’t know how I’d feel if she was lifeless and rigid, and the thought makes me growl.

I move my fist inside of her, brushing her G-spot over and over, my mouth dropping open as if I can eat her moans for sustenance.

“Cain, fuck, please, master!” She’s stuttering, making a menacing smile spread my lips up my face.

Slowly, I move my fist out, pressing it back in once I’m nearly out of her slick warmth.

She’s bucking and screaming my name and praises that are incoherent to the naked ear, and part of me is worried she’ll hurt herself.

“Perfect little slut puppet, look at you with yourmaster’s fist deep inside your pussy. Scream for me, you filthy whore,” I taunt, having to yell my words over her rapturous shouts.

When she comes, a rush of fluid exits around my fist, soaking me and the sheets, splattering my fucking soul like a brand.

Here, I thought I was going to teach her who I was and scare her a little to get her to behave, and she’s only entranced me with the way she responds to me.

As I slowly work my fist out of her body, careful not to hurt her, she heaves an exhale of relief.

Since I already have to change the sheets, my little puppet is just soaked with her cum; I wipe my hand on them before leaning over her.

“Who are you?” I ask her, and she fights to keep her eyes on me as her lids likely feel heavy.

“Your perfect puppet,” she answers with a sigh, and it stabs through me like the darkest realization I’ve ever had.

She just might be.

---