by Linnea May
She looks up at me, a faint crease of worry appearing between her eyebrows.
She sees it. She sees my anger and regret about what just happened. But I don’t want her to see it, so I tear myself apart from her, a sense of loss scurrying through me when I retreat from her center.
She remains on the sofa, her body sprawled out from our play, her arms still above her head. The strings sidle across her tits, her legs still spread apart, a sinful drop of cum leaking between her soft lips. The sight is intoxicating and it has a pull on me that’s painful to resist.
If it were up to me, I’d turn her around and slip right back in there, fucking her from behind like an animal, maybe even take her ass next.
My cock twitches with need and I look down, reminded of a task I could give her to grant me at least a modicum of satisfaction for now.
“Clean me,” I tell her, stepping away from the sofa as I point to the floor in front of me. “On your knees, here.”
She responds with a bewildered look, her porcelain cheeks blushing slightly as she bites at her lower lip. A moment later, she gathers herself up, sliding down from the sofa and right onto her knees like a good little girl. I never told her to crawl to me, but she still decides to do it, making sure the strings attached to her wrists don’t get in the way as she neatly drapes them along at her sides.
She comes to a halt right in front of me, hollowing her back and turning her pretty eyes up to face me while her cuffed hands move up to my hard length. She’s almost shy in the way she touches me now, using only the tips of her fingers to guide my cock to her mouth. She leans forward, and as she begins to cautiously lick my thick head clean, electric sparks start coursing throughout my entire body. I’m unable to stop myself from twitching with bliss as her tongue works my cock. She licks it like a lollipop at first, carefully tasting and circling the tip before she trails along the shaft, still careful not to apply too much pressure.
I tilt my hips forward, demanding more, and she responds. Parting her lips, she takes me in, inch for inch, moving slowly while she continues to use her tongue to clean me even while her lips are wrapped around my length. She doesn’t take me in all the way but stops about halfway, where she begins to suck, applying more pressure by wrapping her fingers around my base.
Fuck. If she keeps this up, there’s no stopping me from coming down her throat.
And I don’t want that. Not now, not like this.
“Good,” I say, grabbing a fistful of hair at the back of her head to pull her away from me.
A seductive drop of saliva runs down at the corner of her mouth when she looks up at me with that same worried expression as before.
Alena is constantly afraid of doing something wrong, which is delightful in a way, but it clashes with her otherwise sassy and provocative attitude. I don’t know what to make of this insecurity.
“Get up.”
I distance myself from her then and make sure to shove my cock back inside my suit pants before I’m lured into doing anything else.
Alena gets up on her feet, the strings dangling at the side of her body as she lifts her hands to fix her hair.
“Did I do anything wrong?” she wants to know.
I shake my head. “No. But we’re done here for now.”
I hate the tone of her voice, that fucking guilt. It’s exactly that kind of vulnerability that drew me to her in the first place. When I saw the tears in her eyes, a telltale sign of the horrible memory she held in her hands. All I wanted to do is to make that pain disappear.
She thinks she doesn’t deserve anything because of what happened, and she has worked hard to forget about it. There’s so much this girl can be proud of, yet she keeps focusing on that one mistake she made years ago. A mistake that wasn’t even entirely her fault. It was an unlucky accident, something that may have been triggered by her actions, but it wasn’t the tragedy she believes it to be.
I wish I could tell her. I wish I could tell her the truth behind all of it.
But I can’t. Not yet, that is.
I hold out my right hand. “The strings.”
Her murky blue-green eyes rest on my palm for a moment before she takes a step forward and gives the strings to me in a ceremonial motion. The look on her face is dangerously sad and beaten still, suggesting that she’s still troubled by the idea of having disappointed me.
“Look at me, puppet.”
Her gaze trails up to mine, a glimmer of hope sparking in her eyes.
“You did nothing wrong, but you knew what you were getting yourself into,” I tell her. “If you were expecting cuddle sessions, you came to the wrong man.”
She furrows her brows and a smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth.
“Who said anything about cuddling?” she goads.
I issue her a warning look before I turn around, yanking at her strings so she’ll follow me.
She stumbles behind me, her naked feet padding across the white marble as she tries to keep up with me. I lead her back to the entrance area of the house, passing the open kitchen and the door to my office. As we’re about to cut around the corner into the entrance hall, she hesitates behind me, causing me to stop as I feel the strings pulling me back.
I turn around and find her looking at me with concern.
“Your driver,” she utters. “Isn’t he...”
“We’re alone in this house,” I assure her. “He left right after bringing your luggage upstairs and he won’t be back unless I summon him. Come.”
Tugging at the strings, I beckon her to follow me toward the stairs that lead to the upper floors. But just as we’re about to walk up the first step, she pauses again, this time adding a high-pitched squeal as she holds me back by the strings.
“Seriously, Alena, you’re getting yourself in—”
“Who’s this little guy?!” she beams behind me.
For fuck’s sake, not this again.
Rolling my eyes, I turn around to find the goddamn cat meandering toward us, its tail wavering with elegant disdain as it approaches Alena while completely ignoring my existence. Much to my surprise, it doesn’t stop about two feet away from Alena and sit down, judging her, like it usually would. Instead, the cat nestles between her legs and even accepts being petted by Alena, who is just about to pick the damn thing up when I stop her.
“Not now,” I bark at her, causing her to freeze mid-motion and turn to me, pouting.
“Is it a boy or girl?” she asks behind me as we continue our way up the stairs.
My first instinct is to say that I don’t know, because I truly don’t care. But then I remember Dorota referring to the animal as “she”, so I opt for the honest response.
“A girl, I think.”
“What’s her name?”
“Cat.”
We reach the second floor and I can feel Alena’s eyes piercing through my back as she walks behind me.
“Cat?” she responds. “Are you kidding me? She doesn’t have a name?”
I want to ignore her questions, or spank her for being so goddamn sassy with me. But when I turn around I’m stopped by something that has never happened before: the cat has followed us upstairs. It’s still glued to Alena, who appears to be oblivious to its presence, even though the cat is literally five inches behind her, its blue eyes journeying back and forth between me and Alena.
What is wrong with this animal? It can’t possibly be this needy after Dorota has only been gone for a day. Besides, it’s never acted like this before, especially with the girls.
“What’s wrong?” Alena asks, before she reacts in surprise as the cat decides to snuggle up to her again.
Yanking at the strings, my little puppet giggles as her eyes focus in on the white fluffy creature at her feet, while I watch the scene in disbelief.
Chapter 28
Alena
I’m not surprised, but my heart stills sinks when he shuts the cat out as he leads me to the room where I will be sleeping. He’s very adamant about it, too, c
losing the door with such a swift, brutal motion that I almost worry about it hitting the cat right in the face as it tries to follow us.
His expression is stern again, just as it has been ever since he fucked me. He insists that I did nothing wrong, yet I can’t help but wonder. One moment he tries to kiss my tears away and passionately claims me in a way that made me forget all other men I’ve ever been with—and the next moment he looks at me as if I were the devil himself.
What is going on with him? Is that how he is with every puppet? Is it part of his game?
Did I overdo it? I can’t help but be the person I am, and I go for the things I want. I tease, I pull, I test. I can’t help it, despite having no intentions of being a brat in any way.
If I want something, I need to take it. But did I take too much from him? Does he regret his decision to take me in already?
Never knowing what his current mood is like certainly keeps me on my toes, but I’m not sure whether I like it.
However, I know I like him. I’m trying to remind myself that it was just sex, that he’s notorious for turning women’s heads, and the fact that it was as good as it was doesn’t say anything about the way he feels about me.
Still. Sex has never been like that for me. Passionate, intimate, so fiery hot that I can still feel him all over my body. This is more than just chemistry—even though it can’t possibly be.
“This will be your room,” he announces as he steps forward, still holding the strings in his hands and pulling me with him as he walks toward the massive canopy bed standing against the wall to our right. The room itself is gigantic, in bright white, a soft white carpet beneath my feet, snow-white walls, and the same sheer white curtains framing floor-length windows as I saw downstairs. The bedding is white too, but the sheets are covered with thin black lines painting an irregular pattern across the blanket and some of the pillows.
Just like strings.
Opposite of the bed is a big dresser, also white, though more of a cream-white color, slightly darker than the walls and the carpet. And next to it I find my little suitcase on the floor.
Above the dresser hangs a large canvas, the only piece of art in this room. It’s a painting, most likely oil on canvas, depicting a desert landscape. I step closer, entranced by the vivid colors that stand out against all the white in this room, and when I come to a halt in front of it, I notice the faint outline of pyramids in the background.
“Is that... Egypt?” I ask.
“The Giza Pyramid Complex from afar,” he explains.
I turn back to him and am met with his dark complexion and black gaze as he approaches me.
Michael Raad. That second name sounded exotic to me from the start—and that’s because it is.
“Is that where you’re from?” I wonder out loud. “You’re Egyptian?”
He shakes his head. “No. My mother was.”
“Was?”
His gaze darkens, and before I know it, he grabs the strings again, pulling me away from the canvas and toward the bed. I didn’t notice it before, but there’s a door right next to it leading into an exquisite bathroom.
“Take a shower,” he orders. “And make yourself presentable. I’ll be back shortly.”
“Where are you going?” I ask as he begins to untie the strings from the cuffs. He neatly rolls them up in his hands and takes them with him as he heads for the door.
“Mic-Master,” I yell after him, biting my tongue for almost using his name instead of the titles I’m supposed to address him with.
He freezes, but keeps his back to me.
“I won’t be gone for long,” he answers my question. “Don’t linger and don’t leave the room. You stay here until I’m back. Understand?”
I nod. “Yes, Master.”
With that, he leaves me to it, hurrying out the door as if he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
I let out a deep sigh, certain to take his warning not to waste any time to heart. The bathroom is almost the size of my bedroom at home, and it features a large rain showerhead as well as a Jacuzzi hot tub. My eyes rest longingly on the tub for a few moments before I decide that it’s probably smarter to content myself with the shower for now.
I check the counter with the sink to my right and find everything a girl could ever ask for to make herself pretty: shampoo, conditioner, bath soaps, body lotion, razors, all kinds of hair products that I wouldn’t even know how to use, and more makeup than I could ever need. No wonder he told me not to worry about packing mundane things.
I take advantage of the rain showerhead, relishing the hot drops as they drizzle over my body as I generously soap myself with a freshly scented lavender shower gel. His warning still rings in my ears and I don’t want to give him another reason to get angry at me, so I cut the shower shorter than I’d like to. It won’t be my last, and next time I might even have time to soak in the hot tub.
Wrapping myself in a soft white bathrobe that’s hanging right next to the shower, I step in front of the large mirror above the sink. My makeup has been ruined by the tears and his rough handling, but the waterproof mascara still holds on for dear life. Still, I decide to wash my face entirely and re-apply my face with the products he’s provided, applying the same accents and black lines across my eyelids that I wear on a daily basis. I never expected that my makeup routine and the skills it helped me acquire would ever come in handy like this. If I were like my little sister—who barely wears makeup at all and needs about an hour to apply even the easiest basics—I would be in trouble to adhere to his allotted time.
I finish my face with a coating of light pink gloss on my lips and walk back into the bedroom, still naked beneath the bathrobe. Make yourself presentable, he said. Does that mean he wants me to get dressed? And if so, in what?
I steer toward my suitcase on instinct, if only for the comfort of having something familiar with me. But before I kneel down to open it, curiosity gets the better of me and my eyes latch onto the dresser instead.
It wouldn’t be here if there were nothing in it, right?
I hesitate for a moment, worried that I might be about to do something forbidden. But he did say this was my room, and he didn’t say anything about not looking inside the dresser. Cautiously, I open one of the uppermost drawers, slowly and with the best intention of not making any noise. My eyes widen when I’m faced with a sea of fabric, lingerie, stockings, and a few negligées—all of it in pure white.
He really has a specific taste for this non-color, it seems. Is that why he picked me out in the first place? Because I was wearing all-white lingerie? Did he think I knew something about him that others didn’t and thus knowingly drew his attention to me like that?
To be honest, I wish that were true. Because then I would know why this extraordinary man chose me to be his puppet, me of all people, even though I seem to be giving him nothing but headaches.
A noise is coming from the doorway and it causes me to jump away from the dresser, like a little kid who has just gotten caught in the act. My head spins to the left, my eyes glued to the door, but it doesn’t open.
“Master?” I ask, my voice trembling.
No one answers, but I hear the same noise as before. Something is moving against the door from the outside, but it’s not knocking I hear.
It’s scratching.
Chapter 29
Raad
No more drifting off course from now on. That’s the dead-set intention with which I leave her alone in her room and head back downstairs to take care of the papers that we left in disarray.
I check one last time if I really have everything I need from her, every authorization, every signature, even her fingerprint. It’s all there.
Including her note.
I pick it up last, turning it over in my hand as if I’m seeing it for the very first time. The story written on there is a gruesome one for sure, and Alena blames herself for what happened–but it’s not all her fault.
I need to tell her eventu
ally, and I will. After all of this is done. I want her to live free from this guilt that’s been tormenting her for years.
After all of this is done.
I’ve never felt guilty for what I’m doing with these girls. I know they get something in return, and I know there’s a rumor out there that even goes as far as saying that I change their lives for the better. I don’t know if that’s true, and I don’t really care.
All I care about is my mission—and our joint pleasure. Taking in my girls as puppets comes with an unusual blend of pleasure—for them and for me—and an exploitation for my cause.
Of course if all goes well, they never learn about the latter. They never learn because they never look for the truth. Alena wasn’t any different than the others. She was skeptical, but easily calmed after I answered a few simple questions. She already trusts me more than she should. But I will have to make her trust grow even deeper. I need her to give me a kind of devotion that comes close to worshipping a god.
And I will get her there, even if it might take a little longer than it did with all the other puppets before her. That only means I get to watch her dance for a little longer.
I open the safe next to my desk and file the paperwork in Alena’s folder, adding the note last, before I lock the safe and leave the office. I wasn’t gone for very long and decide to give her a little more time to get accustomed to what will essentially be her cell for the next few weeks or months, however long I end up keeping her here.
I didn’t lock the door on purpose, just to see how much I can really trust her at this point. There’s a sensor in the door’s lock that will send an alarm to my phone if she decides to open the door without permission, and another one attached to her cuffs that tells me where she is at all times. Since she doesn’t know either of those things, it will all depend on her obedience. It’s a test, but I wouldn’t mind it if she failed.
