Page 18 of Little Puppet

Ms. Wilcott might be the very thing that unravels me.

Chapter 6

Three days. I’ve been a prisoner for three whole days, during which time I’ve learned that Doctor Death is my kidnapper. He lives, works, and plays in Dunhaven’s city limits, all while the town allows it to happen. They hide away and turn their heads so he can come and go as he pleases.

Why?

Why has he been allowed to roam free when he’s clearly bloodthirsty like a monster? As I sit up in bed, not knowing what time it is but knowing that I can’t sleep any longer, I’m careful not to tangle my strings. Yesterday, I tested their strength when he’d gone to bed, tugging on them to see if they’d give.

They didn’t.

I’d gone to sleep defeated and annoyed, uncomfortable, as my strings were impossible to sleep with. I’ve walked the entire house, trying to find imperfections inthe track system and find any way out of here. I found nothing.

I sigh and flip again, strings tangling as I get frustrated and growl, tears staining my cheeks as I sit up in defeat.

“Can’t sleep, little puppet?” His voice carries through the room from the doorway.

I look over, sniffing and wiping my face. He’s perched against the doorframe, hands in the pocket of his sweats. His abs are on full display, rippled and perfect.

It’s fucking annoying, to be honest. He’s perfect. Chiseled, annoyingly perfect. And yet, he has me hostage and hanging from the ceiling of this hell he built.

No one’s come for me, and the longer I’m his prisoner, and no one bursts through the front door to save me, the more I worry time will run out on Christmas Day. I’ve gotten the impression a few times that Christmas is the day that ends it all.

His game is done then.

He’ll go back to work to save lives after mine is stolen.

“Puppet,” he warns, coming closer.

I sniffle again. “No. I can’t sleep. The strings are just getting to me tonight.”

“Mm, but you understand why you must have them, right?”

“Because I’ll run?”

He smiles, slinking up the stairs at the side of the bed. “Because every puppet has strings. How are you to be mine if you’re untethered?”

“But you’re going to let me go in the end, right?”

Then, this will only be a nightmare. The hoops are going to scar, though. I’ll never forget. Not that I could ever forget him.

With all that he is, he’s alluring. When he touches me, it’s as if he commands every nerve in my body, ordering my pleasure on a whim, conjuring satisfaction the likes of which I’ve never experienced before. Fuck, when I had him in my mouth, it was unholy, the way my center awakened at the sounds coming out of him.

A flash of him backhanding me moves through my head, and I sigh, remembering. I felt embarrassed at first, foolish, even. Then he straightened out, beckoned me back on his cock, and I felt whole again.

Something in my psyche is breaking already from pretending to be his good little puppet to survive.

It’s almost as if I genuinely want to be just that.

His perfect doll behaved and pristine.

“Is that what you want? To be free of me? Of this place?” he asks me, and I tug away from my berating thoughts.

I can’t deal with how I feel around him right now. I have more significant problems, like surviving to get away from him.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?” It had come out a bit harsher than I’d meant it, and I shifted as I sat up a bit straighter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound like that… it’s just that this isn’t my home.”

“Understandable, puppet.” He turns away from me, his feet resting on the first step on the side of the bed. “I’ve been too kind to you, maybe. Too much leeway makes you too complacent. That’s my fault.”

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