Page 28 of Little Puppet

I have to be careful.

Or the killer between my thighs will add me to his collection of corpses.

He hasn’t reconnectedthe strings to my arms. The only things tethering me to the ceiling above are the ones on my back and shoulders. It’s freeing. Yet, I’m still his little doll. His perfect puppet, tied and ready for when he wants to play with me.

I step into the shower, tugging the curtain closed behind me. The spray of hot water has my muscles unfurling and knots releasing in me, where I didn’t know there was tension before.

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself, leaning into the heat of the water and letting it soothe me.

Two days until Christmas.

Two days until he decides what to do with me.

My mother hasn’t come. No police have shown up that I’m aware of, and it’s unnerving. How he made me disappear from the world as if I never existed confuses the mind.

It makes me wonder if those around me genuinely care if they haven’t come to save me.

I move through the motions of washing my hair and body while listening for him beyond the frosted curtain.

After what happened earlier, he’s been keeping his distance. Food was laid out for me on the counter, which I ate alone with my untied arms, and then I decided, after a long look in the bathroom mirror, that I needed to bathe.

It was apparent that he didn’t fuck the other women. Or maybe he waits until their dead to fuck them? Either way, I’d thrown him off his typical path, which had him spiraling. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

On the one hand, I could use it to my advantage if I could keep him circling the drain of his insanity. But on the other hand, it could turn him even more ruthless.

He could lose control.

The curtain peels back, and there he is, his ice-blue eyes looking over my body in frantic passes, his lips pursed in a thin line behind his tightly trimmed beard.

Did he think I escaped?

Did none of his other pets make themselves at home?

“What are you doing?” he asks, his brows furrowing tightly.

I smile, laughing softly as I move closer, water dripping over my breasts.

His hungry eyes follow the drops teasing down my body.

“I’m showering, Cain. Would you like to join me?” Ispeak in a sweet tone, trying not to alert him to the war inside me.

I have to use this angle that my greedy actions earlier gained me.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate,” he says, clearing his throat as he steps away.

But his hand stays fisted on the curtain. I lay mine over his, rubbing my thumb over the top where all his veins run highways through his flesh.

“Come in with me. You can help me wash,” I coax.

I already washed, but it doesn’t hurt to lie. To lure him into my sickly sweet trap in hopes he’ll get sloppy.

He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t get in the tub.

I drop my hand and tug at his waistband.

“Come on, master. Let me wash you.” I bite my lower lip as I look over his thick, soft cock hanging between his thighs.

It’s so big that I don’t know how he didn’t break me to bits.

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