Caged Urges

Olivia crashes through the door next door, breath ragged, eyes glassy. Corey steps forward, voice low, steady hands guiding her to a chair. He pours her water. Tells her to stay. She thinks she’s safe—until the hallway light catches metal. She peers around the corner and freezes. Morgan kneels inside a dog crate, body bare and flushed, wrists chained lightly to the top bars. Their eyes lock. Morgan smiles, slow and wicked. "It’s how we let go," Corey says. Olivia tries to laugh it off. Can’t. Something in her gut tightens when Morgan offers to show her how it feels, easy, unhurried, asking if she wants to watch. Heart thumping, Olivia shakes her head, then nods. Through the thin bars Morgan leans forward and takes Corey in her mouth—slow, then deep, cheeks hollowing, saliva shining on steel. Olivia’s fingers twitch on her thighs. Heat rises. She whispers the word "uncaged" under her breath. Before she can back out, her own fingers find the latch, knuckles white.