A Caged Bird Doesn't Cry - Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Laticia gazed bitterly at her own chest. The bite marks left by the Duke stood out starkly against the pale, rounded flesh. But it wasn’t just her chest—her lower abdomen and inner thighs were similarly mottled with bruises, as though someone had haphazardly splashed red paint across her skin.  

To think I’d end up like this…  

The time had come to display this wretched state before Theodore in its entirety. Theodore was organizing his paints, deliberately avoiding looking her way. The Duke, already nude, wore only a thin robe. Neither man showed any sign of tension. The only one frozen stiff was her.  

Laticia repeated to herself, over and over, that she needed to regain her composure. This is just for the painting. If I comply, it’ll be over soon. Taking off my clothes is nothing. 

But—

Her fingers clenched around the fabric draped over her shoulders. The problem wasn’t just baring herself anymore. The thought of being violated in front of Theodore didn’t unsettle her as much as it should have. No—the real issue was that she had learned pleasure.  

The Duke had relentlessly pursued her satisfaction every single time. No matter how much she resisted, Laticia had crumbled without fail. Now, she loathed the certainty that she’d succumb to pleasure in front of Theodore too. That was why she’d provoked the Duke earlier.  

"You said slaves are no different from beasts like dogs."

Andrea found her defiance amusing—like a tiny rabbit charging at a lion.  

"And?"

"Do people do these things with dogs?"  

She’d clearly hoped to wound him, but of course, it had no effect. Unfortunately for her, the timing—and Theodore’s presence—had only stoked Andrea’s temper.  

"Then I suppose I’m fu¢king a dog."

Andrea chuckled, but Laticia saw the cold fury swirling in his blue eyes. He forced her onto all fours, mocking her.  

"Bark."

"......" 

"Now."

She stubbornly held out. The shame of presenting herself to the Duke like a bit¢h in heat before Theodore, completely exposed, was unbearable.  

But her resistance was short-lived. A sharp smack echoed—and a strangled scream tore from Laticia’s clenched teeth. Disbelieving, she looked back.  

Smack!

The Duke struck her plump, white rear again. The reddening handprint was unmistakable even to Theodore.  

"Bark."

A whimpering bark finally escaped her. It was a pitiful sound, like a puppy’s whine. Only then did Andrea seem satisfied, spreading her rounded cheeks apart. When his thumbs pressed firmly at her center, her folds parted, and the semen he’d deposited the night before spilled out in thick clumps.

  

"Truly a bit¢h in heat." 

"Hah—hk!" 

Laticia sobbed as he plunged into her without warning. Her tight walls stretched open again, expelling the remnants inside. When he reached the deepest point, Andrea ground his hips in a slow circle, ravaging her inner walls. More creamy streaks oozed out, forming a ring as thick as his girth around her entrance.  

Deliberately, Andrea gathered the mess and smeared it across Laticia’s chest so that Theodore could see them clearly. He used it as lubricant to knead her already-soft flesh. Each time her breasts slipped between his fingers, a lewd, squelching noise echoed—matching the sounds from below.  

"Ah—ah! Nngh, haah!"

Laticia shuddered at the precursor to pleasure. Each shallow thrust and teasing scrape near her entrance left her unbearably desperate. If he suddenly drove deeper—  

"Ah!"

As if reading her mind, his thick co¢k slammed into her deepest spot in one brutal stroke. After a brief pause to steady his breath, Andrea gripped her hips and began pounding relentlessly.  

"Nngh, hah! Nn—nngh!"

The sounds she made never failed to please him. Andrea’s lips curled faintly. For all her earlier shame, the way she clenched around him with each thrust betrayed her sensitivity. The proof dripped down her thighs in slick rivulets. Leaning down, Andrea nipped at her ear and whispered:  

"Does it excite you? Being fu¢ked in front of him?"

"N-No, that’s not—" 

Unimpressed by her denial, Andrea hauled her upright, forcing her to face Theodore directly. One hand groped her chest while the other hooked under her knee, spreading her wide. Her silver pubic curls, matted with milky fluid, were fully exposed—along with the glistening pink flesh that stretched and clenched around his thrusts. Her bouncing breasts and the lewd, rhythmic sounds were all on display.  

"Ah, ah! Nngh—ah!"  

Worst of all was her face—flushed, tear-streaked, and utterly debauched—now fully visible to Theodore.  

"No, stop…! Don’t look, Theo…!"

At her plea, Andrea released her leg—only to seize her chin instead, forcing her to meet Theodore’s gaze directly. Then, the hand on her breast slid lower, pinching and rubbing her clit.  

"Ah! Master—ah, ah!"

The sharp, electric pleasure was nothing like the fullness inside her. Her vision whited out. Unconsciously, her hips began rocking back—only for Andrea to press down harder, crushing her swollen bud.  

"Ah—ah! Aahn, aah—ah!"  

Her body convulsed violently as a gush of transparent fluid soaked Andrea’s thighs.  

"Tsk. Coming all by yourself?"

Andrea clicked his tongue as he withdrew entirely. Dazed, Laticia turned her blurry eyes toward him—her violet irises brimming with unmistakable hunger. Her rationality consumed by pleasure, she instinctively pressed her hips back against the tip of his p€nis.  

"What does this mean?"

Tears welled in place of an answer. The emptiness was unbearable. A thousand phantom sensations prickled under her skin—would she ever grow accustomed to this feeling?  

Her inner walls fluttered helplessly, squeezing at nothing. The ache only worsened. She needed to be filled again—only being thoroughly ruined could sate this torment. And she knew it too well.  

"Master, please…" 

"What do you want?" 

Though his erection visibly throbbed, Andrea remained infuriatingly composed—so much so that he seemed serene.  

"Please… Master…"

She bit her lip, refusing to beg outright. But the craving for his co¢k was too much. Driven by desperation, Laticia rocked her hips needlessly.  

"Still not satisfied?"  

Andrea teased her with a single finger, thrusting lazily.  

"Nngh…!"  

It felt good—pathetically so. When she tried to chase more, a second finger joined, ruthlessly scissoring inside. The lewd squelches of his fingers and the slick sounds from below mingled shamelessly. Occasionally, he grazed her sweet spot, drawing broken moans—but it only fueled her hunger.  

"Master, put it in… Please, inside…" 

Finally, Laticia surrendered completely to desire.  

"Hm? Please, Master…?" 

Plunge. 

Andrea sheathed himself in one brutal stroke, knocking her forward. With her hips raised, she endured his relentless pace.  

Her inner walls clenched greedily around him, as though determined never to let go. Andrea approved—especially of the way she screamed and writhed beneath him.  

"Ah, ah! Nngh—ah!"

Though his own climax neared, Andrea deliberately slowed, drawing out each thrust before slamming back in. The aftershocks made Laticia’s thighs tremble.  

The arch of her spine was beautiful—her pronounced shoulder blades like wings poised for flight. A sudden, irrational regret struck him: If she were truly a bird, I’d break those wings. So she could never fly away. 

The thought was so absurd he nearly laughed. His co¢k, already fully erect, swelled further, fitting snugly inside her tight heat. Getting aroused by her bones? I’ve truly lost it.  

Still, he gripped her hips and continued at a leisurely pace, pondering:  

Taking a slave in the first place was madness.

But what did it matter now? Not when she rocked back so obediently against him.  

"Ah, nngh! Master…!" 

Laticia’s moans grew higher, thinner. Though Andrea had been composed earlier, even he couldn’t remain relaxed forever.  

Thud! Thud! Thud!  

The lewd slap of flesh grew louder. The sight of her tender flesh yielding to his hardness made his nape prickle. A twisted urge surged—to defile her further, even after she’d already been ruined. To mark her irrevocably as his.  

"Haaah—!" 

As his thrusts grew wilder, her walls clamped down violently. Laticia’s shoulders shook—not just from pleasure, but from the overwhelming pressure against her cervix.  

"Hah…" 

With a few final shallow rolls of his hips, Andrea spilled into her, draining himself to the last drop. Unlike the insatiable grip of her ¢unt, he sighed in satisfaction.  

Dazed and panting, Laticia collapsed as he pulled out. Milky streaks trickled down her thighs with each heave of her chest.  

Theodore, who had witnessed everything, swallowed thickly. Though the sound was faint, Andrea called out:  

"Come closer."  

Hoping for an invitation, Theodore approached the bed—only to freeze when Andrea drew his sword. Too late to flee. The blade’s tip pressed against his lower abdomen.  

Skkrt. 

Not too slow, not too fast—Andrea’s sword split Theodore’s trousers open. His erect co¢k sprang free, twitching and glistening with precum.  

Laticia, who had been watching in alarm, saw it all too clearly before hurriedly looking away. But the image was seared into her mind.  

Theodore was hard.

From watching her be violated.  

Amused, Andrea arched a brow.  

"Tempted?" 

"N-No! Not at all!"

"Then explain this."

The blade’s edge nicked his glans. A drop of blood mixed with transparent fluid. Though it stung, Theodore didn’t dare make a sound—one wrong move, and he might lose his co¢k entirely.  

"It’s just—natural! I’d never dare! You know I—"

For the first time, Theodore referred to Laticia not by name, but by title:  

"That sl*ve belongs to you, Your Grace. I’m just a painter."

Sl*ve. The Duke’s property.

Each word stabbed at Laticia. And it was exactly what Andrea wanted to hear.  

"Certain?"

"I’ve never once coveted her." 

Theodore repeated it—that Laticia was just the Duke’s sl*ve. He noticed the flicker of satisfaction on Andrea’s face and clung to it.  

"And if you’re lying?"  

"I’ll accept any punishment." 

"Good."  

With that, Andrea dropped the matter and examined Theodore’s sketches. The painter, now hilariously exposed, explained each piece with forced enthusiasm.  

By the time he finished, his erection had wilted. Andrea offered parting advice while looking at his insignificant, shrunken appearance:  

"Keep it in check."  

"Y-Yes, I’ll be mindful."  

It was unclear whether he meant the art or Theodore’s co¢k, but the painter bowed deeply anyway. Only after leaving did the delayed humiliation hit him.  

"That fu*king—bastard!" 

After pacing and cursing for a while, Theodore eventually picked up his coat and stormed out. When he thought of alcohol, he naturally remembered the promise he had made with his friends, and headed straight for the tavern. Since they were living there almost everyday anyway, he could meet them if he went to see them. 

'Before that, have to drain the water first.'

He was thinking of buying the prostitute he had bought before again. It would feel much better after he got rid of the sweat and cum. Theodore quickened his pace, wanting to get rid of his dirty feelings as soon as possible.

As Theodore had expected, his group was mingling as usual. His friends, predictably drunk, greeted him with slaps on the back.  

"Hey, Theo! Took you long enough! What kept you?"  

"Inspiration comes after emptying the balls first."

"Hah! This guy’s got cum for brains! Drink up!"

Theodore downed the offered ale, the burn in his belly dulling his anger. The more he drank, the more his friends’ envy fueled his bravado.  

"So? How’s the Duke treating you? Bet it’s a whole different world, huh?" 

"Of course. I’ll be a court painter soon. You’ll all be shocked when you see what I’m working on."

"A portrait, wasn’t it?"  

Dumbasses! I’m painting something far greater!  

He itched to brag, but Andrea’s icy warning about secrecy kept his mouth shut. Thankfully, the topic shifted.

"So? Seen the girl?" 

"What girl?"  

"The Canary."

"Oh, her. Yeah."  

His feigned disinterest only made them lean in closer.  

"Think you’ll get her this time?"  

Theodore had a reputation in the black market for seducing sl@ves—a rumor Laticia, locked away, had never heard. His kind demeanor and carefully crafted words made sl*ves lower their guards easily. The ones he impregnated were sold off cheaply before their condition was noticed, costing Locardi significant losses. It was part of why Laticia had been kept underground.  

"Soon. She’ll be begging under me before long." 

"Damn, Theodore Vuter! You’ve really made it!"

Amid crude jokes and suggestions—paint her ¢unt for us, fu¢k her ass while you’re at it—someone proposed a wager.  

"Let’s bet on it!" 

"On what?"  

"Whether our future court painter can nail the Canary within a month. Proof? Her nipple print on paper—with paint."

"Deal."

Theodore’s confidence sparked protests.  

"How do we know it’s really hers? Could be a parrot’s nipple for all we know!"  

"You think I’d lie?" Theodore snapped. "She smells like sweet fruit. The scent on the paper will prove it."  

"Hell yeah!"

As they placed their bets, Victor—the one who’d been lewdly thrusting earlier—scooped the coins into his pocket.  

"See you in a month." 

"Won’t even take that long," Theodore boasted.  

Unaware of the eyes watching from the shadows.  

Once the group dispersed, one man tailed Victor, who staggered drunkenly into a dark alley. He was extremely careless even though his pockets were bulging with gold coins. It would not have been strange if he had been robbed of his gold coins at any time. Considering the way he had been swinging his hips in the crowded bar, it was not surprising. Too drunk to notice the man tailing him, Victor fumbled with his pants to relieve himself.  

"Ugh… wasted."

Only when he saw two shadows on the wall did he realize his mistake.  

"Who—?"  

His face smashed into the brick. A blade flashed—followed by a wet, crimson splatter. The dagger in his throat silenced him before he could scream. His bulging eyes froze mid-panic.  

"The bet is hereby void." 

The man pocketed the heavy coin pouch. Under the pale moonlight, his icy blue eyes gleamed.  

***  

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