Caged Rings Novels & Stories

I challenged, arching a brow. She glared at me, her frustration clear. But before she could argue, Emma's hands trembled slightly as I took her delicate fingers in mine. Her breath was uneven, her hazel eyes locked onto the ring that gleamed under the chandelier lights. The entire ballroom was silent, waiting watching. The diamond caught the golden glow, shimmering with brilliance, but my focus remained on her. Slowly, I slid the ring onto her finger, feeling how perfectly it fit. Almost as if it was meant to be there. As if she was meant to be mine.

It looked harmless now, nothing more than a delicate wedding band with a pale gold finish and tiny runes carved so finely into the inner curve that a human eye would never have noticed them, but I knew better. The healers had already called it a Vow-Seal Ring, an old witch artifact used in black-market marriages to bind secrets, punish betrayal and silence whoever wore it if they tried to speak against the one who placed the vow. It was illegal in every civilized territory because it did not simply burn skin. It tightened around bone, poisoned the blood, attacked the nerves and, if resisted too long, stopped the heart like a hand closing around it. The fact that Ciara had carried that thing

One became two, two became four, and as I kept touching the rough surfaces, I grew accustomed to them. I began to understand how to balance them, and the second game turned into a long match. I wasn’t bad at dominoes to begin with. We moved from the kitchen to the doorway, stretching into the narrow hallway. I was so focused that I even forgot about the noisy vibrator in my ass. That was my downfall. The hallway was absurdly narrow for two adult men to brush past each other, and my legs were each shackled with over 10 kilograms. There was also a wire attached to my ass.

He put the sunglasses back in his bag, a silent promise to himself to find out who his mysterious guardian was. Jax stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, a dark prisoner in tailored midnight-blue silk. The suit felt like a straitjacket, every seam a restriction on his vast frame. The crisp white shirt, the cufflinks, the perfectly knotted tie – each element a symbol of the world he was forced to inhabit. His father had insisted on the gala tonight, a "crucial networking event" for the Vance Corporation.

"It’s not jewelry, Isabella. It’s an active transmitter." Isabella’s hand flew to the heavy, glittering platinum-and-diamond choker resting tight against her throat. The stones, worth more than a luxury villa in Bellagio, suddenly felt like a throat-corroding acid against her skin. "What do you mean? It’s a family heirloom. My father gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday." "Your father gave you a cage," Dante growled.

Vance was on the passenger seat while the pair of us was on the back along with Gwen. "Here, I made these to cloak our presence," the witch said, giving each one of us a ring. It looked like it was made of obsidian, probably because that we weren't fond of silver. It also had a weird symbol in it which I think a witch circle or something. "You may wear it whenever you want but be aware that those are coordinated rings." "Meaning?" Sage questioned, scrutinizing the accessories thoroughly. "Only those who wear them could sense each other even from afar. I only made six though. You can give Esther the other one later."

He froze. Violet stepped out in a shimmering white gown, slit high on one side, revealing smooth skin that seemed to glow under the garage lights. His heart raced. The dress hugged her legs, the slit making it impossible to look away. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, a few strands falling perfectly to frame her face. Minimal makeup highlighted her natural beauty. Silver-white shimmer on her eyelids matched her aura. A delicate chain earring brushed her bare shoulder, and a thin necklace sat gracefully on her collarbone.

Each stitch bore a silent promise, a vow whispered in shadowed halls and aching hearts. Cedric stood before her one final time, the unique ring he had commissioned catching the light like a star forged from the depths of his sorrow. It was a ring unlike any other—crafted with rare stones mined from the mountains of their homeland, each facet a testament to his unyielding love.

The straps cage his ribs, wrap around his upper thighs, and pull tight through the cleft of his ass, pulling taut between his legs to lock into the thick black silicone ring at the base of his cock. He’s trussed up, offering himself to me. He looks exactly the way I pictured it in the shop. Like a piece of art engineered exclusively to be owned by my hands. The ring is already doing its job. He’s painfully hard, the skin flushed a deep, angry red from the restricted blood flow. He looks up at me, trying to hold onto that arrogant, bratty smirk, but his thighs are literally trembling against the duvet. "You're early," he accuses. His voice shakes on the last word.

I'm the CEO of a publicly traded company, and I'm worth three billion dollars. Ten years ago, I dumped my broke boyfriend Ethan Shaw and left for Wall Street. Everyone said Vivian Quinn was cold-blooded and ruthless, a maniac who only cared about money. Then a car accident somehow transported me into another world. I woke up as a penniless housewife! Ethan Shaw, the ex who should have hated my guts, was suddenly my husband! And there was a five-year-old son tagging along. What a joke. How could I ever fall for a freeloader who spent all day in the kitchen or a pint-size boy who spent every day clinging to my leg? But just as I was determined to find my way back, I realized something wasn't r