Page 65 of Little Puppet

Because I’m his perfect girl.

His masterpiece.

Chapter 19

Her flesh is pulled taut away from her body, and it’s covered in blood. My cock pistons inside her, giving her the rush of being weightlessly fucked, suspended from her rigging, while the hoops tug and give her a pinch of pain.

Grace has surpassed my expectations and given me something I thought no one ever could. She’s my perfect girl. My puppet. My muse. My fucking everything.

The scent of blood on her flesh gives me something I primally need as my cock gathers steam inside her.

She’s come for me twice, not including how well she came for me in the bathroom, and I know I will soon need to let her down. She’s been suspended far too long, but the high she’s giving me.

“What a fucking gift you are, Grace.” I grip her hips as I fuck straight into her.

She’s suspended at the perfect height, all over herweight evenly distributed on her pierced hoops, rigged above us.

She looks like a fucking angel. Like resurrection made flesh.

“Cain,” she whimpers, and her eyes tell me she’s close. Her hands tug at the piercings at her nipples—the ones she’d wanted for herself—and I feel my own orgasm building.

“Come for me like my good girl, and I’ll let you down.” My words promise an end. A light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.

She feels fucking sublime around my cock, and I groan and let my head fall back.

“God,” I moan.

“Tell me I feel good,” she begs, hands curling over mine, her nails digging into my skin.

I hiss, fucking her harder, using my grip on her hips to pull her down as I drive forward.

Skin slaps, and our cries meld.

“You know you feel good, darling. Like a tight-fitting sheath made only for me. Were you made for me, Grace?”

I’m barely hanging onto my control as I open my eyes and find hers.

“Yes! I’m all yours! Made for you!” she screams, body buckling around my dick, her walls wringing out my ends I wasn’t ready to reach yet.

“Fuckkk, Grace, goddamn you!” Cum shoots from my cock, finding its home inside her as she shudders and pulls every last drop from me.

We come down slowly before I work her off the hooks and down to the floor, scooping her into my arm and moving her to the bedroom.

My bedroom.

I lay her down and get in next to her.

For a while, our breathing was erratic, and the world around me twirled and tilted. Soon, though, we were both breathing normally, and Grace turned on her side and snuggled into me.

“That was… I don’t think I have a word for what that was, actually,” she says, and I curl my arm around her, rubbing her back with my fingertips.

“We need to check your wounds,” I tell her, the surgeon inside me knowing one of them might need stitches. “We’ll also need to get rid of these sheets.”

She smirks. “That’s alright. I’m sure they won’t be the last.”

Something crosses her face, and I steel my insides at what comes next. She just witnessed all of me. The darkest parts I’ve kept hidden away. Only those dead and dangling have seen what lurks below my skin, and I don’t know what her following words are going to be, but I’m confident I won’t like them.

“I have to say something, and I don’t want you to freak out about it,” she says, pulling up to sit next to me and looking down at me as if she needed a higher vantage point.

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