The Cage: 12. Breaking the Beast

The cage still stood.

Though he had freed her wrists, though he had spoken of burning it down, the walls of iron and shadow lingered like ghosts around them. It wasn’t the steel that bound them anymore. It was obsession.

And obsession was harder to escape.

He woke her in the middle of the night, dragging her from dreams into raw reality. His mouth was on hers before she could speak, his hands gripping her thighs, hauling her to the edge of the bed. His hunger was wild, unrestrained, as though he’d starved for years.

“You’ll never leave me,” he snarled against her lips. “Not now. Not ever.”

Her heart thundered, but she met his frenzy with fire. “Then fuck me like you mean it.”

His eyes blazed, torn between anger and lust. He tore the shirt from her body, ripping fabric until she lay naked, flushed in candlelight. His hands pinned her down as his cock pressed hard against her entrance.

When he thrust into her, it wasn’t gentle. It was brutal.