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Mad for her. Free-falling.
I’ll never be sane when it comes to this woman.
Walking backward to the bed, I keep watching her like a hawk. Ready to sprint to her if she falters. I don’t look anywhere else as I gather the ropes from the bed blindly and return to my place in front of Leighton.
“You’re the most beautiful doll I’ve ever seen,” I praise her, my lips grazing the shell of her ear. “A pure little thing in that white dress. I’ll take great pleasure in defiling you.”
We’re in our own world, Leighton and me. That of sex and sin. Of a sickness only she and I could ever understand. We feed off each other in the most obscene ways.
And I’ll never leave my woman starved.
“I’m your puppeteer for the day.”
I pull back, my nostrils flaring when I see her nipples straining beneath the dress.
Moving forward with my plan, I wrap my fingers around her delicate wrist. There’s not a shred of resistance when I lift her arm. Her fingers dangle as I make a knot of the rope around her wrist.
“You’ll perform for me, and me alone.” Before I move to her other arm, I pin her with a dark, possessive glare. “We’ll never have an audience. You’re mine. Your body is mine. Your holes are mine. Your fake doll blood”—I drag my thumb along her collarbone, then suck on what little blood I gathered on my finger—“is mine.”
She blinks once.
I resume the task of tying the rope around her other wrist. “My property.”
Her wrists are bound, the ropes dangling off each of them to the floor. I grasp onto one of them, tugging her arm up, just over her head. In this position, her elbow bends to the side like a real marionette’s would.
I control her. I hold it up there.
Her lack of resistance fuels my obsession. My depraved proclivities.
As mesmerizing as she is, something’s amiss.
Oh, yeah. Her head placement is too human-like.
“Tilt your head to the side,” I order, my voice hoarse with lust.
Leighton does as instructed. It’s not enough.
“Leighton, dolls don’t have spines. They don’t have muscles securing their heads in place.” My jaw clenches. My need to inflict pain and take without consent consumes me. “Tilt. Your. Head.”
She reaches her limit, then angles her head toward me. Her parted lips are an inch from her shoulder. Her eyes staring forward at my chest, hair dangling on one shoulder.
Perfect.
“Look at me.”
Slowly, her gaze shifts to mine.
“Good girl. That’s what I meant.” I let go of the rope. “That’s my good girl.”
Her hand flails, dropping to her side. I repeat the motions with her other arm, holding it up and watching her from above.
“You’re doing so well.” I explore this ultimate power I have over her, raising and dropping her arms. Soaking in her body’s reactions to me. “I’ll reward your needy little pussy soon. I’ll drive my cock all the way in. Make it hurt. Would you cry, plaything?”
She says nothing, and I continue praising and degrading her. With every word, she gasps louder, her body breaking into tremors.
I let loose of her arm one last time when I feel like I’m losing it. When our game starts torturing me as much as it does her.
“We’ll return to this scene sometime in the future.” I flip Leighton, walking her to the bed. I bend her over. Mash the side of her face on the mattress. Yank the skirt of her dress up. “I need to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you.”
