Heart In A Cage

28

Isabella

I'm far away from where I last recall being―in William's glamorous living room, knelt over toppled shot glasses with the rich male observing me disapprovingly and spitting out lines of words I couldn't comprehend.

I haul myself forward, the navy blanket tumbling from my shoulders to let a layer of cool air clothe my body. The red lingerie I'm in is unchanged from yesterday, and I'm mostly naked. So, of course, Andreas had undressed me—something reminiscent of the cosseting he did on the days where I had luxuriated in the club. The skin surrounding my tattoos is reddish, still in recovery from the needles that were piercing my skin yesterday. I shudder in horror of the memory.

"Andreas?" I scan the room until I catch him against the bathroom's door frame, arms crossed. He steps from the threshold, moving towards me, towel swaying with his slow motions. I wonder what happened last night, because...he doesn't seem too amused.

Gently, he tilts my head up.

I try not to gawk at his bare chest as he speaks.

"Your trickery—I had to endure it yesterday. I had to chase after your disloyal pussy after I had finally crammed by cock into it. Because my lady is a cheeky one, isn't she?" His fingers swiftly find a loose tendril, tucking it behind my ear. "She uses her pretty face to distract and charm, then runs off to get herself wasted, right?"

I nod my head. I think my bratty tendencies died following yesterday's scheme. He holds my chin and uses a thumb to play with my bottom lip. My fingers slip beneath his towel and yank it off.

A disconcerting, ravenous gaze fixes on me as I grasp his cock and stroke it, and he emits low groans from deep in his throat. With his loose hold on my chin, I lower my head, watch my hand fuck him, until he nudges it back up and I'm faced with that same cold stare.

"You seem fit to start off your afternoon playing around."

A joyous sensation strangles me. "Let me wash up first."

Once a long moment of being studied goes by, his previous words rumbling in my head, my chin is finally released. He steps away from the bed, giving me space to leave.

I take my chance, scurrying towards the closet to collect a towel from one of the drawers and then returning to the room. He's watching my every hurried step towards the bathroom, and I only hear the floorboard creak with motion once the door shuts behind me and I'm hunching over the sink, excited and tired.

Yesterday's revelry seemed to have taken its toll on my appearance. I look unkempt, my hair shabby and uncombed. A sniff of my underarms and then I'm yanking open the glass door of the shower and standing beneath an open faucet. I hear elastics snap as I massage my scalp with a rose-scented shampoo that Andreas had urged me to use. He's replacing the bed covers, like he frequently does. But when I finally brush out my tangles and sooth conditioner into my locks, which is also rose-scented, anticipation charges at me. Because I hear the jingle of metal, an entrancing promise of what's to come.

After finally scrubbing off the foul smell of alcohol and sweat from my body, I step out from the shower, pat myself dry, brush my teeth, and wring my hair. For another half an hour. I pamper myself with flowery lotions just to let some more minutes go by.

I open the door and find something...unexpected. Restraints emerge from the corners of the bed, cuffs installed for each ankle and wrist. But that's not what's rendering me speechless.