Page 31

Sweetness In The Cage

Starla

When I woke up, the cut on my belly was stitched up, and I was back in the basement. I’m in new clothing, I don’t remember dressing myself.

Then it hit me. Malakar did it.

Remembering how Malakar fucked my mouth, I nearly started gagging all over again. It was crude, and I wanted to die all over again just thinking about it.

I couldn’t believe I came with his cock in my mouth. Shame washed over me rapidly, crippling me. How could I have done that? I didn’t enjoy his cock in my mouth. I was confused. That’s it. My brain didn’t know what it wanted between the pleasure of rubbing my clit and Malakar’s filthy words.

There was a pillow on the bed now. A tray with a glass of water, a sandwich and some veggies. My ankles were chained again, but there was some comfort.

It hit me like a train crash.

There’s still humanity in him.

Maybe I could use that. The fact that he brought me these things proves he’s not all darkness. Right? Maybe I could reach the light. Maybe I could fly away from the cage.

He hurt me, then he fixed me.

I listened to the sounds above—the floorboards creaking, the faint murmur of a radio, the click of a light switch, footsteps. When Malakar’s steps came closer, I stopped breathing.

He was coming. I knew the sound of his boots, the way he walked. It made it worse, the waiting, the uncertainty, the sense that something was about to snap.

The door at the top of the basement stairs groaned open, hinges squealing. My stomach knotted itself into a spasm. I braced, heart slamming against my ribs, every nerve on fire.

The chain tugged at my ankle. It was a reminder. You’re not going anywhere. You never were.

His shadow appeared down the steps before he did. For a second all I saw was a black shape, monstrous, stretching long and crooked across the brick walls. Then he was in front of me.

I shrank into the mattress, curling tighter, instinct screaming at me to run, hide, disappear. He stood there in silence, breathing. I could never tell what I’d get. My skin itched with old bruises. I kept my eyes down, tried to make myself small.

Then, he moved. He knelt by the mattress, the floorboards creaking under his weight. His hands rested on his thighs for a moment. Big hands, scarred knuckles, veins thick under skin.

For a long time, neither of us spoke. The room was full of the buzzing bulb, the clink of the chain as I trembled. He watched me the way someone might watch a stray dog, not sure if it would bite or bolt.

Then, softly, “Bluebird.”

His voice was strange, almost gentle. That word sent a new kind of fear through me.

“You’re awake,” he said, looking at me as if I was something precious and also something he might break.

I nodded. My lips cracked as I tried to find words. I wanted to ask for mercy, but I knew it wasn’t real here. Not for me.

He reached out, and brushed the hair from my face. His fingers lingered at my jaw, tracing a bruise. I flinched, I couldn’t help it. His touch didn’t hurt, but I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust softness from monsters.

He noticed. His hand paused, then he sighed, a sound that was half frustration, half exhaustion.

“I brought you food,” he said, gesturing to the tray by the bed. “You need to eat, bluebird. Can’t have you dying on me.”

I nodded again, trying not to recoil as he stroked my arm. My muscles twitched, betraying me. I shouldn’t have wanted this, I shouldn’t have craved even a moment of gentle touch from the hands that hurt me, but my body was tired of pain.

I relaxed a little, just a little, feeling something unspool in my belly.

He sat beside me, not touching, but close. My pulse thudded in my ears.

“Please,” I whispered, voice shaking. “Please, can you take the chain off? I’ll be good, I swear, Malakar. I’ll do whatever you want, just—just let me show you I can be good for you.”