The Puppetmaster

by Linnea May

  “Good girl.”

  The praise makes her smile, and I can see her fingers twitching slightly, as if the joy of pleasing me dances through her veins, exuding at the tips of her fingers.

  “Is this the proper interview?” she asks, ending her question with a bite to her lower lip, her eyes wide with worry as she looks up at me.

  She’s right to do so. I didn’t give her permission to speak.

  I cast her a warning look, and she reciprocates with an apologetic but somewhat sassy smile. She’s not sorry for her little blunder.

  “Yes, it is,” I opt in response—and her smile widens.

  “But this doesn’t mean we’re finalizing anything,” I interject. “The competition is far from over.”

  Her face hardens and she swallows dryly before nodding. “I understand.”

  “I don’t think you do,” I tell her. “So I will tell you. I narrowed it down to three girls, you and two others. I will interview all three of you and base my decision on that—that and the task I will leave you with once we have agreed upon the general conditions.”

  What I just told her is only partially true. It is true that I have spoken to other girls downstairs, and it’s also true that I told two of them that I will want to talk to them later.

  But neither of them is any competition for Alena. This is all for show, for appearances, and in the end, it’s also for Alena’s sake because we both need to make sure that she’s really up for this.

  Still, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I fucking love the hint of jealousy that shadows her face for a moment after my revelation about the other two competitors.

  “Of course,” she produces through compressed lips.

  “You know the main parameters: if I decide to take you on as my next puppet, it will mean that you’re entirely dependent on my strings. You will be mine in every sense of the word. You will come to live with me in New York and you will not be allowed to leave my home at any point—unless I decide to bring my little fuck toy outside to play. Do you understand?”

  A blush colors her cheeks when I say those last few words. What a naughty little girl. Is she an exhibitionist? Would she want me to present her? To publicly humiliate her? To share her, even?

  I’m not saying I would want to do any of those things, but fuck, if she turns out to love those scenarios, I would gladly provide.

  “I understand.”

  Her voice is firm, as is the expression on her pretty face.

  “You will be locked away, shielded from the outside, completely at my mercy. There will be no safe words, no discussion of hard limits. We will have nothing but trust between us.”

  She nods along as I speak, and while she looks resolved to everything I say, I have trouble trusting her. Skepticism is a constant companion in these negotiations, and that’s a good thing. Just like every other puppet before her, Alena is eager and willing but oblivious to the reality of our contract—until she’s living it. I can’t change that, but I can make sure that she’s in the know about the ramifications that come with her decision to become mine as much as possible.

  That’s why I’m relieved to see a spark of resistance appear on her face when she regards me now.

  “No safe words, no hard limits,” she repeats, arching her left brow. It’s not a question, but her look still demands a response. I’m not troubled by it because my answer is clear.

  “I won’t ask you about your hard limits because I know that your mind won’t tell the same story as your body,” I explain. “You’ll scream, you’ll fight, and you may hate me for what I will do to you—but if you get wet, I won’t stop.”

  I love seeing how my words affect her. Her eyes widen, the color of her cheeks darkens ever so slightly, and her chest heaves with need. It’s a subtle response, but so palpable that it makes my cock hard. She’s so responsive to my promises, no matter how frightening.

  Fuck, I can’t wait to play with her.

  “What if I… don’t?” she stutters now, her eyelashes fluttering nervously as she fights to maintain eye contact with me.

  “If you don’t get wet?”

  She nods, pressing her lips together.

  “That’s when we’ll stop,” I say. “Or change the pace. This is for my pleasure, and it doesn’t do anything for me if my puppet is in plain agony. Usually.”

  “Ooo… okay.”

  She swallows dryly, concern written across her face.

  “Have you ever been another man’s slave before?”

  She shakes her head. “No. Is that a problem?”

  On the fucking contrary. That means I get to break you in.

  “It’s not a problem, just something I need to know,” I reply. “So, you have no experience with this at all?”

  Alena shifts awkwardly on her heels, seemingly unsure how to respond. Her lips move as if she were chewing on the response before spitting it out, and her eyes trail away from mine, the indicator of an impending lie.

  “There’s no right or wrong answer, Alena. Only the honest truth.”

  “I... I haven’t really done anything, I just… watched,” she whispers finally.

  “Here at The Velvet Rooms?”

  She nods. “Yes. But only occasionally, and I—”

  “I don’t need an explanation, Alena. Stop being so ashamed of who you are. There’s no room for that when you’re with me,” I lecture. “Look at me.”

  She looks young and somewhat helpless when her eyes travel up to mine now, wide with wonder and an embarrassment that pushes my buttons just the right way.

  “When I ask you a question, I want you to answer truthfully. I don’t want you to hide anything, because you won’t be able to once we’re alone. If you want to be mine, you had better get used to being open and honest with me—and sympathetic to the little slut you are. Do you understand?”

  Her deep inhale sounds like relief, but I know it also harbors a hint of arousal.

  Good, this is very good.

  More and more it seems like Alena is a dream come true. A perfect little puppet—only waiting to dance from my strings.

  Chapter 11

  Alena

  Total honesty? Why does it feel like that’s the hardest thing he’s asking from me? And how is it possible that he seems to be able to read me better than any other person—including myself?

  When he said those things about using me as his personal fuck toy, about doing things to me that I will hate him for and that will make me scream and fight against him... I should be appalled at those threats, because that’s really what they were, wasn’t it?

  Threats. An intimidation that would make any normal person walk away and never look back.

  I always suspected that I wasn’t normal, that there was something inside me that’s far from it, a frightening reality that I have never dared to explore.

  And he sees it. He sees right through me, already luring the little monster that sleeps in the shadows of my soul with just those words. We have never properly met before, yet he seems to know that part of me better than I do myself.

  Maybe he does remember me after all?

  I want to ask him so badly, but I’m scared to follow that instinct. It doesn’t feel like the right time and place, because what if he does? What if he did see me trip that girl back then? What if this is all just an elaborate ploy to chastise me for my pathetic behavior?

  Would I want to know? Would I want to destroy this bit of hope that I’ve been granted just by him asking me to come up here? Or would I prefer to live the illusion until proven otherwise?

  Somehow, I prefer the latter.

  “There’s one more thing we need to get out of the way,” he growls, folding his hands as he leans down to me. “Why are you here, Alena? I asked you before, but I need a different answer now. A practical answer. A truthful answer.”

  I tilt my head to the side in question. “What do you need to know, sir?”

  “People can’t just disappear from their life for weeks a
nd months,” he discloses. “We all have our responsibilities, jobs, families, pets, social commitments. That sort of stuff. As my puppet, you would vanish from the world as you know it. You would have to leave everything behind. You can’t work, you can’t see other people, you can’t take care of anything that needs to be taken care of in your regular life. People will miss your presence.”

  “I’m aware of that,” I tell him, ignoring the knot in my throat when I’m reminded of the only person I need to consider.

  Riley, my little sister.

  “And?” he prods, adding an impatient twirling gesture with his hand.

  “I don’t have any responsibilities that I can’t leave behind, no family, no pets, no job—”

  “No job?” he interrupts me, raising an eyebrow. “What happened there?”

  I’m a little stunned by the way he phrases that question. That is pretty much the exact same reaction Melina had when I told her, but she knows me. She knew that I had a job I was passionate about, a job that I was hoping would lead somewhere and that I worked hard at. When she heard I no longer had that job, it was only natural for her to fear that something awful must have happened.

  But him? The way he asks that question suggests that he knows me well enough to be equally aware.

  “I quit,” I tell him.

  “You quit?” he repeats, evident surprise filling his face. “When?”

  “J-Just a few days ago,” I stammer, unsure what to make of his reaction.

  “I see,” he growls, displaying an expression that I can’t quite place. It’s not surprise, but rather it resembles anger or irritation. Shouldn’t he be glad that I’m jobless and void of obligations?

  Or does he think I did this on purpose? Does he think I am one of those girls who want to win his heart over so they can mooch off of him for the rest of their lives?

  “I don’t need any money,” I hurry to add. “I have savings and can get by on my own. It’s not like I—”

  “I know that,” he interjects angrily.

  “I’m just saying, I’m not a gold digger—”

  “I didn’t say you were, did I? Don’t insult me, Alena,” he retorts harshly.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Why do I feel like I keep fucking this up? While he does seem interested in me, I hear his praises just as much as I sense his anger. He can’t possibly want a puppet who annoys him this much?

  “What matters is that you’re free to be mine for as long as I see fit.”

  I clear my throat, trying my best at a conciliatory expression when I ask, “And how long will that be, sir?”

  “Until I get tired of you,” he shoots back, his face stern and blank of emotion.

  His rough response feels like a blow to my chest, but I cast the feeling aside. I can’t let him get to me like this. He’s just as honest with me as he wants me to be with him. That’s a privilege I want to appreciate instead of begrudge every time he says something that doesn’t sit well with me.

  He leans down closer to me, his face so close to mine that our noses are almost touching. I inhale a deep breath to take in his smell, musky and pleasant, with a hint of unexpected sweetness.

  I’m drawn to him, but when I lean forward, threatening to close the tiny gap remaining between us, he retreats in a sudden motion, as if I were poisonous.

  Our eyes meet and I want to believe that he shares my sentiment. But for whatever reason, he doesn’t want to act on it.

  If you want something, you’ll have to take it.

  I start shifting on my knees, grimacing as I reposition myself. I make sure that I’m moving closer to him, so close that my thighs are almost touching his legs as I return to my slave position.

  “Did I give you permission to move?” he hisses.

  “I’m sorry,” I pipe, casting him a coy smile. “My legs were falling asleep.”

  A furrow appears between his eyebrows then, and the menacing disapproval on his face makes my heart speed up.

  “Don’t test me, Alena,” he growls. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

  “Yeah?” I respond coyly, winking at him. “Are you going to punish me?”

  I jolt back in surprise when he leaps up from where he has been sitting on the side of the bed. He towers over me, the tips of his shoes pushing against my inner thighs when he takes a step forward, forcing me to lean back at a steep angle so I can still his face.

  “Get the fuck up!” he barks at me, his voice so deep and loud that it makes my entire body tremble. “Now!”

  Chapter 12

  Raad

  Even the way she climbs back on her feet is enticing to me. There’s an eagerness to please behind every movement, spiced with that sassy defiance with which she keeps poking the beast. I don’t like brats and I hope to God that this attitude is just born out of the desire to attract my attention and lure out the Master she wants me to be to her.

  But that’s not how it works, Alena, not even for you.

  She stands before me, her back straight and her shoulders just a tad tense—and she’s fucking smiling. It’s a victorious smile too, as if she thinks she has won.

  “Wipe that fucking smile off of your face,” I snarl at her.

  “Or else...?” she teases, tilting her head to the side as she winks at me again.

  I’m schooling her and she dares to fucking wink at me?

  The smile leaves her face a moment later when my hand flies up to her throat, my fingers closing around it so quickly that she doesn’t stand a chance of evading me.

  Not that she’s trying to.

  She remains firm, not even taking the smallest step back as my hand closes around her neck. I’m not choking her, and if she really wanted to, she could easily get away from me.

  It’s a warning, both a threat and a promise.

  It’s also a touch. Skin against skin. Something I swore I would never do with a girl before she was chosen to become my puppet.

  I shudder at that realization, feeling the ice-cold shock of not following my own rules running down my spine.

  And yet I don’t move my hand away. I can feel her pulse throbbing beneath my palm, and it causes me to tighten my grip a little, following the need to be closer to her.

  Her eyes widen, and I believe to see some fear in them. Some sweet, delicious fear. But it’s not just that. She’s intrigued, curious, anticipating my next move, while there’s still a hint of triumph dancing in her expression.

  I fucking hate that last part.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” I seethe, squeezing her throat so that the essence of pain flutters across her face for a split second. “You’re not the one making the rules here, Alena. You’re not in the position to fucking tease me like that and expect me to punish you in return, a punishment you seek, a punishment you enjoy. That’s not what punishment is about, and that is not what I’m going to do to you today. If you expect me to bend you over and give you a proper spanking until you come because you’re acting like a little brat in front of me, then you’re wrong and you clearly don’t understand how this is going to work.”

  Her eyebrows knit in a crease, and she replaces the sass with a kiss of annoyance when she responds, “Okay. I understand, sir.”

  She puts an emphasis on that last word that doesn’t sit well with me. It doesn’t sound honest and demure like it should, but rather like she’s mocking me.

  Her lips part, silently calling for me to come closer to meet them with mine. And for a moment, I follow the call like a fool sailing toward the siren’s song. I lean in closer, our noses almost touching and her warm breath dancing across my skin as I lose myself in the depth of her green-blue eyes.

  Almost, Alena, almost.

  I give her a little push before I withdraw my hand from her neck, forcing her to stumble back a step, her arm flailing around as she tries to maintain her stance.

  “I swore not to touch you tonight,” I confess. “I never touch a girl when I’m on the hunt and haven’t yet chos
en her to be mine. I don’t do that. Ever.”

  “You just did,” she reminds me, reaching up to her throat and gently massaging the place where my hand lay just a few moments ago. Her expression is stoic and attentive, but no longer defiant.

  “You just touched me,” she elaborates. “Why do you break so many rules when it comes to me? I signed up late, yet you let me show up—”

  “Miss Barry made that decision.”

  She huffs. “Maybe. But you didn’t revoke it, did you? You didn’t cross my name off the list when you found out, and Miss Barry must have told you because how else would you know my name?”

  I pin her down with a menacing look, rage blazing through my chest.

  I know your fucking name because I’ve known it for years, dear Alena. I know it because I have watched you, because I needed to know where you were at all times, and if Mr. Hammond hadn’t fucked up—as he obviously did—you wouldn’t be here tonight. Not yet, not today. That was never the plan.

  But since you are here, I have to act on it. You don’t leave me any other choice.

  I am so tempted to blurt out the truth.

  “And now this?” she keeps going, only digging the hole deeper for herself. “Now you touch me, even though you claim that’s an absolute no-no while you’re on the hunt? Why? Are you just toying with me? Am I not a serious option but just a little plaything you use for your amusement, while you—”

  “Shut up!”

  She flinches at the volume of my voice, her lips still parted but no longer spitting words.

  “You stop talking right now, little girl, or you’ll regret it,” I growl, closing in on her. She doesn’t move away, her head tilting back as her eyes stay locked on mine. “I touched you because you made me touch you. And for that, you will be punished in due time, but not here, not now, not tonight. Understand?”

  She bites her lower lip and nods. “I understand.”

  “From now on, I talk and you listen,” I continue, waiting for her to nod in agreement. “I have seen and heard enough from you for tonight, but the hunt never closes on the same day. You know that, right?”