Page 13 of Little Puppet

My stomach grumbles, reminding me how hungry I am, but I know I can’t do much for myself.

Growling in annoyance, I inspect my surroundings before I walk up the staircase from the living area. It has a matching blue paisley rug running up the middle of it, keeping the chill of winter off my feet.

I was surprised by how the cold in Florida felt when I crossed into the state only days ago.

When I get upstairs, I look around at the surrounding doors. There’s one that’s closed, and I vaguely recall him telling me there’s one I’m not allowed to go in. That’slikely the one since I can’t even reach the door handle with all my strings keeping me upright.

To my left, two more doors have been left wide open.

I don’t know what time it is because all the windows have been boarded up to give the home an abandoned feel, but it feels late, as if my internal clock is still working somewhat.

I find my kidnapper sprawled out on his back, face bare, snoring without a care in the world.

He knows I can’t get free to harm him, or at least, he seems to think so.

A tight beard on his face is dark and matches his hair, which wasps off his head in delicate waves.

His chilling eyes are hidden behind his closed lids, but my eyes wander down further.

He’s shirtless, clad in only gray sweatpants that ride his v-cut perfectly. His cock is hard beneath them as if whatever he’s dreaming about behind his closed eyes has a thrill racing its length.

Without the mask, he’s beautiful. Something out of a film or from a magazine cover, so I wonder how he came to be who he is. Why he’s kidnapping and torturing women, killing them, even?

I remember him saying that none have survived him.

But the way he looks right now, innocent and handsome, with an air of mystique, I can’t reconcile the fact that he’s a killer with the man I’m looking at.

“Look your fill yet, puppet?” His voice is absent of sleep, and I wonder if he was ever asleep to begin with.

My stomach jumps, and my chest seizes as I step back away from the bed.

“I was just hungry,” I answer, heading for the door.

“Mm, I could see that. Well, if you’re hungry, you’ll need to convince your master to get up and feed you.”

I turn back, looking over his sinful face as he grins.

It gives his beauty a twist, the smile. Turns it into something sinister and malicious.

There he is.

There’s the man capable of killing.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. I’m not a man with any amount of patience.”

His bed is the same height as mine, likely for the same reason. When I’m on my bed, I’m close enough to the ceiling that my strings have leeway. It relieves me from being strung up like the puppet he’s made me.

I slowly climb the steps to his bed, and he places his hands behind his head, awaiting what I’ll do to him.

I’m hungry, but half of me hates what I’m doing right now, even so.

Survival makes people do crazy things.

“Come, puppet. I won’t bite. Hard,” he taunts.

I climb over his body, straddling the same rock-hard cock he still has displayed beneath his sweats, and grind over it.

“And what is it that I’m to pay you for feeding me?”

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