Page 22 of Little Puppet

“Please,” she begs, turning in her sleep.

I watch as she flips onto the strings attached to her back. They don’t tangle, only move with her.

Those will work much better, I think.

Still, my brain tries to determine what’s so different about her. I’ve never untethered any other woman.

Her next moan makes me crawl closer, straddling her as I hover over her fitful body.

Is she remembering what I did to her last night? Is she thinking of another man?

The second thought makes my hands fist the sheets next to her head.

She moans louder, arching off the bed. The imagry of this moment will be etched in my brain forever.

I grin.

It’s me she’s thinking of then.

I’ve never seen them react to the TENS like she had. She blows my mind at every turn. She sets my entire playbook ablaze because she’s nothing like them.

She’s something more.

Another moan passes her lips, and she wakes in a fit, head lifting off the pillow as her lips open, an exhale passing them.

Her frenzied eyes find mine.

“Hello, Grace. Good morning.” I smirk, looking over the patter of her beautiful heart that thwaps away in her throat.

“You—You’re here. Were you…” She licks her lips. “Were you touching me?”

“In your sleep? No. I would never, darling. I want towatch you as you scream for me, fully aware that I’m the reason you’re screaming.”

I lick my lips, and she follows my tongue’s path over them. “Tell me, Grace. Were you dreaming of me?”

Her pupils dilate.

“Don’t lie, either. You remember how I punish. You’ll be sent to bed hungry again tonight, and not for food, either.”

“I was dreaming about you,” she admits in a whisper.

“That’s a good little puppet,” I tell her. “Now, what was I doing to you in your dream?”

She uses her exhale to steady herself as she lifts her head off her pillow, her lips coming dizzyingly close to mine. I told her I don’t kiss.

I’ve never kissed one of them.

It’s too personal. It’ll turn the tables.

“You kissed me in my dream. Kissed me, sunk your cock into me, fucked me so fucking good. And you let me come.” Her eyes flutter closed as if she’d go back to the dreaming and visit that version of me.

My dick aches behind my sweats at her words, and my fists tighten on the sheets beside her.

“I don’t kiss.”

Her eyes open and roll, her face turning toward the board-covered window. “I know. You told me to tell you my dream. That was it. Are we done?”

Dismissal?

---