5. Caged
Chapter five
Caged
(Nico)
P ain explodes in my shoulder when that bitch stabs me.
It burns through my insides white-hot and searing.
I gasp, the air catching in my throat as I see the jagged piece of porcelain jutting out from my flesh.
A mixture of shock and rage surges through me as blood wells up around the shard, warm and sticky, soaking the gown.
I can't believe the innkeeper stabbed me.
They don’t usually fight back…
I clench my jaw, the taste of copper on my tongue as I bite down on the inside of my cheek.
The pain in my shoulder is blinding, but I force myself to stay conscious as my vision blurs at the edges.
Every breath sends a jolt of agony through my body, but I push it aside, focusing on Kiah.
I won't show weakness, not now, not ever.
That harlot will regret the day she was born.
You don’t fuck with Domenico Ricci and get away with it. My father is Don Ricci himself, head of one of the most ruthless crime families on the East Coast.
Was .
My father was Don Ricci.
Manipulative cunt.
He got what he had coming.
Even if things didn’t go according to plan.
My family history doesn’t change shit about my current predicament, though.
I’m still spread out on this bed with my shoulder throbbing like a motherfucker, clouding my thoughts, making it hard to think straight.
Kiah studies me from the foot of the bed, her posture defiant, her eyes blazing with determination. It's a look I know well—the look of someone who believes they have the upper hand.
My mind races, calculating, assessing. There's a part of me that almost admires her nerve.
It takes guts to turn the tables on me.
But that admiration is fleeting, quickly smothered by a surge of anger and betrayal.
How dare she?
A cold fury coats my veins—a deep, simmering rage.
I feel the familiar tightness creeping into my jaw, my teeth grinding together as the rage builds inside me.
As Kiah disappears out the door, I test the duct tape again, wincing as the shard of porcelain cuts deeper into my shoulder with every movement.
Fucking bitch was lying about the duct tape.
I detest lying.
She’ll pay for this.
She thinks she has control now, but control is an illusion.
Kiah suddenly drops a large black crate on the bed beside me, forcing me out of my revenge loop.
What is this crafty whore up to now?
Is this the part where she tortures me?
The thought is amusing, and I laugh, a sound only partially muffled by the gag.
I doubt it. What does a silly old innkeeper know about the darkness of my world?
Ignoring me completely, Kiah carries on with her business, unlocking the padlock on the crate.
She doesn’t narrate her actions or even address me; her full attention is on the crate and sifting through its contents once the lock releases its lid.
She pulls a shiny metal object from the crate with a triumphant “Aha!”
I can’t see what it is; cranking my neck that far out only hurts my wounded shoulder.
But I don’t have to live in suspense for long.
“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” the innkeeper tells me as she reaches for my cock, easily accessible through the open robe.
I gasp.
My, my, Miss Kiah. Why didn’t you say you wanted some of this sweet dick?
Her touch is like a shockwave through my body.
My cock instantly perks awake.
Roughly tugging at my flesh, she lathers cold lube on my shaft.
Hmm, of course, she wants my body.
I should’ve known.
Women always throw themselves at me.
How basic, I—
My thoughts dry up instantly as I feel the cold metal ring slide over my cock.
What the actual fuck?
Kiah tugs at my balls, pulling them through the ring as well. I’m sure there’s no way they’re going through that small space, but she somehow manages.
Fucking hell , it’s so uncomfortable.
I squirm under her, but I have nowhere to go.
What is she up to?
“This next part would be much easier if you weren’t hard,” the innkeeper tells me with no discernable emotion in her voice. Her face is impossible to read as she disappears into the kitchen.
I may not know how to feel most emotions, but I know what they look like in others. People are so easy, so open; they let their true feelings show for the world to see—to use and abuse.
When you spend your whole life studying people so you know how to act so nobody gets suspicious that there’s nothing but words running behind your eyelids—no pictures, just words—it becomes almost too easy to read other people’s emotions.
But not this woman. She’s hiding something. Something I can’t figure out yet.
I don’t have time to ponder her secrets, though. The cold ring around my dick is impossible to ignore.
Stupid bitch.
She doesn’t know who she’s messing with.
When I get free, she’s going to regret this. I will slice her open and fuck her in a pool of her own blood until she’s nothing but a bad memory.
The innkeeper returns from the kitchen with a large bucket.
Before I even have time to wonder what she’s up to, my breath catches in my throat as the icy water hits my erection.
Fuck!
The water is painfully cold, instantly deflating my hardon.
I moan into my gag, trying to express my displeasure.
But Kiah seems to enjoy my torment.
“Perfect,” the smug bitch declares, dropping the bucket on the floor with a clatter while I miserably wriggle around in the wet bed.
Her eyes narrow in concentration as she takes my now-limp dick in her hand. It looks small and pathetic—all shriveled up.
Biting her lip, she picks a little metal device that looks like a miniature birdcage if birdcages were banana-shaped.
Oh no! The realization of what she’s doing suddenly hits me.
I’ve seen one of those before—in porn, sure, not in real life—but I’ve seen them.
Fuck no!
I squirm under her, but her grip on my dick is firm.
“This little guy has done enough bad deeds for one day. He’s not needed anymore,” she says simply, bundling my sad cock into the metal.
The cage is small, smaller than my cock, but she somehow gets my pecker inside, thanks to its shriveled-up state.
My piercings were not made to be caged, and they press uncomfortably against the top—metal against metal—but it doesn’t seem to make any difference to Kiah.
With a grin, she locks it with a little gold lock and hangs the key around her neck.
It dangles down between her perfect tits, taunting me.
I scream and shout against the tape gagging me, the cold metal uncomfortable around my junk.
It even detracts from the pain in my shoulder, forcing my mind on my needy dick.
But there’s no use.
Laughing manically, the innkeeper leans back in the chair to admire her handiwork.
My face flushes with embarrassment—I can feel it creeping up my neck, warm, unstoppable. This is fucking humiliating!
Instantly, I feel myself getting hard again.
What the fuck?
There is nowhere to grow though, and my dick presses uncomfortably against the sides of the cage, trying to spread through the thin spaces between the bars.
My tormentor picks up a bottle of half-drunk liquor from the floor and takes a big swig, eyes locked on mine defiantly, as she crosses her legs like she means business.
She grins, speaking slowly. “What did you say earlier? Oh yeah…Much better.”
That bitch!