Page 17 of Covert Desires

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 tofeelmost emotions, but I know what theylooklike 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.

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