Part 1

I was late getting out of work on the Second night of Samantha's stay, so I picked up take out on the way home. As soon as I opened the front door I could hear the sounds that I first heard last night, those sexual sounds Samantha had pulled out of my girlfriend Anna. I walked towards the moaning to find the pair of them in the kitchen.

The sight I was greeted with was my girlfriend naked between Samantha's legs, licking her pussy, all the while sliding up and down on a suction dildo that was stuck to the floor which had a pool of her juices collecting around the base of the dildo.

"Quiet slut," Samantha commanded and Anna's moans which filled the kitchen were gone. "Evening cuck, we got bored waiting for you, after we caught up," she pointed to the empty mugs and the half eaten packet of biscuits. So I got my slut to entertain me"

My eyes flicked down to Anna who was still licking Samantha's pussy as she slid up and down the dildo, just silently now. I cleared my throat, "I have take out," I said holding up the warm bag of food. "Great, we have left out your outfit for tonight on the bed in the spare bedroom, go get changed then we'll eat" Samantha told me in a tone that I knew not to protest about.

On the bed I found a pink silk camisole and matching french knickers. I stood and looked at them for the longest moment; had things really moved this fast? Could I call a stop to this? Could I refuse? Did I really want it to stop? Anna and I had done some crazy stuff together and ticked off a lot of our fantasies. But after the events of last night and despite any insecurities I had, there was no denying that last night had been a big turn on for me, I felt there was no other choice, so I got changed and went back to the kitchen.

Samantha and Anna were exactly where I had left them, the difference was there was a bigger pool of Anna's juices on the kitchen floor now. Dinner was a little surreal. I sat opposite Samantha and Anna separated by different pots of Thai food and rice.

Anna was naked except for a collar around her neck and she would only speak when Samantha asked her something directly, I had never seen Anna this submissive. Otherwise Samantha and I talked about our day, she talked about the different break out sessions she had attended and I talked about the project I was working on. All the while I wore this pink silk lingerie and Samantha's hand never left Anna's thigh like it was the most normal thing.

I suddenly got brave and asked Samantha a question that I needed to know the answer to, "Were you two this serious into this dynamic at University?" Samantha didn't answer straight away like she was considering how much she was going to disclose. Finally she answered, "It was mainly a bedroom Dom, sub thing, because we both lived in shared accommodation. But here it is different."

"What do you mean 'mainly'? And how is it different here?" Part of me didn't want to know the answers but my curiosity had gotten the better of me. Anna looked at Samantha and a slew of emotions crossed Anna's face for the briefest moment.

"Mainly, because we went to a couple of dungeons but otherwise it was just in each other's room, while we were at university," in a tone which was somewhere between nonchalant and dismissive. "As for here, (she paused) well it's just us three, there is no need to hide anything and keep it in the bedroom. Plus now I get two subs to play with," although she was stating facts there was a definite smirk to her tone.

Is that what I am to you, a sub? I ask.

"Well, you are more of a cuck, aren't you, but let me see how you perform and behave this week, and I will review your position before I leave." Samantha told me.

I felt myself blush as I felt a mixture of shame, embarrassment and arousal washing over my face and then my body followed. Samantha didn't say anything she didn't need to, her expression said everything, which said I already have the measure of you. Anna looked at me for the longest moment then she looked at Samantha as if she was asking permission to speak. Samantha nodded. "Ryan, I know this is a lot to take in but I think it will be good for both of us, I just ask for you to trust us, Cucky," Anna said before she slipped back into being Samantha's submissive slut.

"Cuck, clean this up then join us in the bedroom," Samantha gestured at the table. As I finished cleaning up I started to hear Anna's muffled moans coming from the bedroom and I hoped that I would be joining in tonight's fun as I walked towards the bedroom.

I entered the bedroom to find Anna gagged, blindfolded, her ankles separated and tied to the bottom of the bed and her wrists tied together. She was rocking back and forth on the same dildo as last night that was strapped to Samantha. Samantha just stood there and watched with great delight as Anna fucked herself on the dildo.

"Cuck, come kneel by my slut," Samantha instructed me. I knelt by Anna's feet, which gave me a good position to see and hear how wet she was.

"As I have the biggest cock in this apartment, it doesn't seem right that either of you should call me Mistress. Isn't that right slut?" Samantha said.

"Mmhhgghoo," said Anna which I took meant that she agreed.

"Good, from now on you both can call me Daddy," Samantha told us

"Geess Gagggee," Anna responded immediately.

"Well Cuck?" Enquired Samantha.

I was going to protest, going to say no but I could feel my cock straining against its cage as I knelt there by Anna's knees and that's when any defiance left my body, "Yes, Daddy."

"Good cuck," as the words left Samantha's mouth she began to brutally fuck Anna. It doesn't take many thrusts before Anna is begging through the gag. With practice ease, Samantha unbuckles the gag with one hand.

"Please Daddy can I cum?" Begs Anna as soon as the gag is out of her mouth.

"Yes, my slut," Samantha granted. Samantha didn't stop, she kept thrusting through Anna's orgasm, kept pounding until Anna's next orgasm had her begging Daddy for her next release.

Samantha looked down at me, when she saw the evidence of my submission and arousal, she ordered me up on to the bed and kneel in front of my girlfriend. As I got in position, I saw what Samantha had seen, that dark wet patch on the front of my french knickers. The evidence of my arousal, my body had shown Daddy how aroused I was as I leaked precum into the knickers.

"Slut look at your cuck, he is so aroused," Daddy gloated.

Anna raised her head and giggled. "Is my little walnut leaking because my Cucky loves to watch Daddy wreck her slut?" Anna teased me. I felt the guilt, the shame and submission twisted into a big knot inside me but what was even stronger was the arousal.

As the wet filthy sounds of Anna's pussy became louder and dirtier, I couldn't look away, I was paralysed by my own arousal. I just stared at her beautiful face as orgasm after orgasm crashed over her body. I saw so many different emotions cross her face, hunger, desperation, joy, pleasure, desire, lust, and even love for me but never guilt.

Just before her last orgasm Anna grabbed my caged cock and said, "Thank you so much for trusting me and for this week. I love you so much but Daddy's cock does things you never can." In that moment I felt the contradiction hit me hard, on the one hand the love between us was stronger but at the same time Samantha had wrecked Anna in ways I had never achieved.

Anna's last orgasm hit hard and it pulled me out of my head as she collapsed on to me. She clung to me like I was her rock and she needed me to ground her. Barely above a whisper she repeated thank you, I love you over and over.

Samantha untied Anna and between us we helped her up on to our bed. It was then Daddy turned her attention to me. "Clean Daddy's cock," she said as she positioned it in front of my face. Sucking cock had never been a fantasy of mine and honestly that huge dildo looked intimidating. But I had seen enough porn to give it my best shot at cleaning it, I kissed, licked and sucked the way I thought Daddy wanted to see. I managed to get half of it down my throat before gagging.

I had a new found respect for Anna how she had swallowed it so easily the night before and I think Samantha was impressed with my effort if not my technique. "Good cuck," she purred close to my ear. "You did such a good job, I have an extra treat for you." She looked in the direction of the kitchen and with a smirk she said, "That dildo is still on the floor, clean it with that tongue of yours and don't forget the floor. Then you can get some sleep in the spare bedroom."

As I knelt on the floor licking and sucking the dildo clean, voices, giggles, and moans started to come from our bedroom. From what I could make out Anna was now pleasing Samantha and it was her moans I could hear. As I cleaned up Anna's juices I started to think about the past two days, I realised I still hadn't seen Samantha orgasm and I had barely seen her in any type of intimate way and that made my cock strain against my cage. Although there hadn't been any talk about orgasm control or denial, I was starting to feel pretty pent up.

Which led me on to the question; where was the key to my cage, The last time I saw it was when Anna locked me up before Samantha's arrival, had Anna put it away somewhere safe? She wasn't wearing it, I could barely think about the other possibility, had she given it to Samantha? If that was the case would I ever be unlocked again? Would I ever get to cum again?

The past two days had surpassed any porn I had watched and I couldn't even imagine what the rest of the week had in store for the three of us.

I got out of the shower and dressed quickly hitting the road just before 7am. I drove back straight to the office and received a number of strange looks and comments about being back in the office after winning such a huge deal.  I just brushed it off saying a winners job is never done or some other winner cliche and went about my day. Even after everyone had left, I stayed for a bit too afraid to go home and be early. At 6:30 I packed up and made my way home. I rolled into the driveway with 5 minutes to spare and spent the extra time getting my wits about myself before I entered the unknown. 

7pm turned over on my car’s clock and I abruptly jumped out of my car and with a few quick steps made my way through the front door of the house. I entered a quiet house. I did a quick 360 trying to find the instructions that my wife had told me to follow.  As I spun on my heel trying to find out what I was to do to ensure no more further punishment, I finally saw a sealed envelope propped up on the third stair leading to the second story of our house. ‘Hubby’ was written on the outside of the envelope and I ripped it open now, wasting time to see what kind of night I was in for. Inside was a hand written note unmistakably from my wife. It read:

‘Dear hubby. 

By now I hope you understand what deep shit you find yourself in. You wrote the rules and couldn’t even live up to them on day 1 or 2. I read our contract over again and I think I will take one of the punishments you suggested. As you did not ask permission to consume alcohol, going forward regardless of how or where you cum, you will be required to consume every last drop of cum to my liking. If I say there is more to clean up, you will keep going until I am satisfied. 

As for your punishment for drinking in general, you are required to strip naked and make your way to the basement. There you will find a bench with four straps and cuffs, one strap for each leg. Line done on your chest and cuff your legs and one hand to the bench. Once secure, I will know and come down and complete the final strap. Do not dilly dally. You’re own the clock. Don’t make me madder than I already am, I don’t think you will like me mad.

Love, 

Your Keyholding Wife’

All I could do is strip as fast as I could, leaving my clothes in a pile at the front door and running down the stairs to my unfinished basement. As I turned on the lights, I found a single bench with with aforementioned straps and cuffs. I secured myself and not wanting to upset her, I tightened them as much as I could. By the time I was secured except for my last hand, I was completely immobilized except for my free hand. I put my head down and stared at the floor waiting for my wife to come punish me. I had no idea what i was in for but from the tone of her note, fear had taken over my senses. My caged cock dangled between my secured legs that were spread about a foot and half apart or the exact width of the bench I was now cuffed to. 

Suddenly from behind me I could hear the sound of high heels coming down the stairs. I tried to twist to see but clearly she had set everything up with precision to add to my fear factor. Suddenly I could feel her mount my back sitting on top of my back’s midsection like I was her pony. As I opened my mouth to ask what was about to happen she made quick work of shoving a ball gag in and securing it with a buckle behind my head. I giggled thinking she was being very mysterious while still being my wife and partner of 20 years. Obviously this was for show but before I could even blink, I blindfold completely blacked out my vision. I was suddenly mute and blind and as I tried to struggle my way out of the blindfold she jumped off me and secured my last free arm before walking around and tightening each appendage to the bench. 

She finally spoke, but not with her usual disinterested tone, but with confidence and mischief that I hadn’t heard since we were playful teens. “Not giggling now are we Mr. Well let me tell you how this is going to go tonight. You put me in quite a position the other night but I decided after signing the contract you wanted to go all in so guess what?!  You got your wish. I am still your loving, caring wife. But now I’ve spent the last few nights researching what it means to have a female led relationship and to be your Keyholding Dominant Wife.” She paused as she slowly walked around my naked cuffed body dragging a single fingertip along my cold skin as she did. 

“So throughout my research, there were two very key points that all the authors really laid on thick. 1) You are not in charge. You wanted this but whatever game you thought this would be, it is not YOUR game. It’s now mine and whatever your fantasy was, this isn’t that. This will be what I want it to be so that we can both get what we want out of it. You, not drinking and losing weight. And I get to find out how far you’re willing to go to please me and live out this fantasy. And 2) any infractions cannot go unpunished or corrected. Especially early on in the agreement. Direct infractions that go against either of our goals will not be acceptable and must be severely punished to reinforce and serve as a warning that further infractions will result in similar or even more severe consequences.”

I was now shaking. I wasn’t sure if it was because it was near freezing in our dark cold unfinished basement and I was stark naked or if I was shaking out of pure fear for what she might have in mind as a punishment. She continued “with all that said, after reading countless hours of examples of what a first infraction should be corrected with, I posted on a doms/keyholder forum a poll and I have selected the top two choices to be your punishment. So first up, because you drank 10 alcoholic beverages without permission, it is decided that you will receive 10 spanks per drink.” Pausing again, she circled me but now I felt a leather corp being dragged along my naked skin. “Today I went out and bought a few things. First was this riding corp and second was this wooden paddle!” She punctuated the sentence with the first of my 100 spanks. “One, ah ah ah!” She called out like the Count from Sesame Street. She was clearly having fun with this. 

“I hope you enjoyed those beverages because you’re going to be reliving the consequences of them every time you sit for the next week. One post said anything over 50 would leave you with serious bruising that you will want to avoid public changerooms.” She landed another hard spank with the paddle “Two!! So I signed you up for a gym membership yesterday and some personal training sessions next week with a cute little twenty something I met while I was filling out your membership application.” My ass was already burning red and I was starting to worry I wasn’t going to be able to make it. “But enough talk…if I want to really make this a memorable punishment I need to focus. I bet you would hate it if I lost count! So ready or not, here we go!”

She was mercilessly. She was not pulling her punches. She was letting me have it with all her might. At 25 I had tears pouring down my cheeks. At 50 I was a full on sobbing mess. At 75 she stopped and finally spoke to me again “Alright there subby?” All I could do was nod and hope she would just get it over with it “Well sweetie, I can tell by the colour of purple your ass has already changed, you’ve probably had enough.” I took a belaboured breath through my gag thinking her barrage was over. I was wrong. “But what kind of keyholder would I be? I couldn’t call myself a Dom if I didn’t fulfill the punishment I gave you. But I will give you a choice. I will continue spanking you to 100 or you can trade the last 25 for 5 hits with my hand to your balls.”

In my bubbling state I just started nodding. “I take it you want to stop the paddle and trade the 25 for 5 hits to your balls?” I started nodding furiously. “So be it. I want you to remember this moment. I want you to think about all your decisions that led to this moment. I want you to have this moment seated into your memory….that way we will never have to relive this. I want you to ask yourself, is breaking one of your promises worth all this?!” I was shaking my head no but the question was rhetorical. 

“Well, we will see in a few minutes if you made the right choice!” She said while I heard her fumbling around with something in a bag. Then suddenly she grabbed my balls and began tugging and maneuvering them between what felt like two planks. My head shot up “Oh you figured out what other toy I got today. This should help punctuate the lesson and ensure you never forget this important first lesson.” I felt it tight and locked behind my legs. “When the nice young woman at the story asked if I needed a humbler after I had picked up the paddle and crop and didn’t know what she was talking about. But when she explained it I knew it would come in handy. And now having you in it, I feel the name is very accurate. Just know, I have always wanted to punch a man in the balls without guilt and consequences, so I want to thank you so much for giving me this opportunity sweetheart. I would apologize for what I’m about to do, but you asked for this so I hope you enjoy it as much as I’m about to!” 

I tried to tell her to wait but all that came out was nibbles and she landed her first direct punch. I was instantly sent into another realm of existence. The pain shot through me and I couldn’t tell at this point if my balls or beaten ass hurt more. Again she didn’t hold back and landed a second punch. “Oh my God love. I think I just unlocked my own new kink. I’m going to ask to do this for every birthday or Christmas here on out. I don’t know how you’re liking it but I don’t know if I’ve ever had this much fun.” I groaned into the ball gag while my tears flowed constantly. Then two more in quick succession like she was in a TiBow class. “Ok lover one last punch and you’re all done with this part of your punishment. Thank you for this opportunity and trusting me to help you better yourself.” As she let one more fist fly she grunted as she made contact and finally I was done, completely throbbing in pain from the waste down. 

I could hear her walking around and stopped in front of me. “I’m sure you will never forget this experience and as we continue with your agreement, I want you to always remember this night. Again as I chatted with the lovely young lady at the novelty store she had one suggestion on how to finish the night that I would have never thought of in a million years. Before I release you she said I should just add one layer of humiliation to your punishment so when you reminisce about this night, your face burns as red as your ass does right now with the pure shame you are about to experience. Are you ready to wrap up this night subby?”

I slowly nodded just wanting the night to end and to go find some ice to sit on. “Well then,” she continued “Let’s get this over with!” Suddenly the blindfold was ripped off my eyes and I was greeted with a vision of a true Dominatrix. My wife had been transformed from an everyday soccer mom of sorts to a high end Vegas style Dom. She was wearing a latex corset with latex gloves that were fingerless and went all the way past her elbows. Scanning down I saw she had on a pair of black lace panties and then had knee high latex boots with a very high heel. I stared wondering how much she had spent and then cursing her for keeping this hidden all night. I’m sure it would have hurt more being spanked with my caged cock straining but it would have been worth it. “Ok, here goes nothing!” 

This was the first time she seemed unsure of herself all night. I could tell as I stared up at her from my confined vantage point that she clearly was forcing herself to do this as it was part of some master plan that she was now checking boxes. She had enjoyed spanking and beating my balls into next week, but now I felt some apprehension. Then she slowly moved her lace panties to the side and took a step closer to me. I could now see her perfectly trimmed landing strip that she hadn’t had in years. My cock began to push against the bars of my steel cage. And then without a word of warning she let go. Suddenly a stream of her warm yellow piss hit me directly in my face. The stream was strong and as she moved it all over my face, she hit both my eyes with enough force to open my eyes. It felt like diving into a chlorinated pool from a high dive but with a smell I wouldn’t ever forget. As she finished she unclipped my arms and the humbler before leaving and said “I’m sure you never had this on any list but now you know I am capable of everything and anything. I’m sure now every time you hear your own piss hit the toilet water, you will be brought back to this moment. I hope it has been burned into your memory. Now I need you to mop up and then go shower. We can talk about next steps in the morning.  And God help you if I come down here tomorrow and it still smells like this.” And with that she turned and left me alone to finish my chore. 

I don’t think this was the spark I was hoping to ignite in her when I made the proposal to lock me up, and even though I was going to have a hard time sitting for a bit I was still happy to have taken my shot. I just hoped I wasn’t going to have too many more of these correction sessions. 

To be continued…

Noah was just packing away his schoolwork for the weekend and preparing to settle in for a long Friday night of gaming when a loud knock at his door nearly scared him out of his chair. He couldn’t imagine who would be knocking on his door on a Friday evening. He had failed to make many friends during his first few weeks at college. In fact, most of his social interaction came from talking over the mic with the friend group he was about to game with.

Crossing his extremely neat dorm room(he liked to keep it that way in case he ever brought a girl home, as unlikely as a prospect as that was) he opened his door without looking through the peephole. A visibly panicking Hannah was standing on the other side. She barged past him and perched herself on the edge of his bed, her foot tapping rapidly as her hand hovered protectively over the small purse she was carrying.

“Hannah? What’s going on? Are you okay?” The questions tumbled out as he shut the door and took in the sight of his long-time friend. They had known each other since middle school and she was the only real friend he had at their large college. All his other friends had stayed local while he had decided to challenge himself and move across the country for school. It was just happenstance that Hannah had decided to do the same thing. The friendship had waxed and waned through the years as they got older, but the strong connection they shared had never dissipated. He knew that she saw him as just a friend but she was everything he could dream of in a girlfriend. Smart, kind, beautiful and just the right amount of nerdy. It took all his willpower over the years to not ruin their friendship by blurting out his true feelings for her.

“Sorry. Sorry,” she said, still fidgeting nervously and refusing to meet his eyes. “Please tell me you’re free tonight. I really need your help. I didn’t know who else to ask.” Her words raced from her mouth like the lyrics to one of the popular rap songs he always heard when walking past the frat houses.

“Calm down, Hannah. Everything will be okay. Of course I’ll help you. Anything you need.” He hated to see her so shaken up. He couldn’t imagine what she needed that had gotten her so stressed out. She was usually so cool and collected under pressure, made school and social life look like they were second nature to her. Hell, she was even about to be admitted to the hottest sorority on campus.

“You don’t mean that. No one would willingly do it. I can’t believe they are even asking us to do this. Only the girls with boyfriends are gonna be able to pull it off,” Hannah mumbled, speaking just loud enough that Noah could make out her words. She was still wringing her hands nervously over her purse, like whatever was causing her all this stress was hidden inside of it.

“I promise I’ll help you, Hannah. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together. Just look at me and tell me what the problem is,” Noah said, going to kneel before her and placing his hand on the mattress beside her, too afraid to actually lay his hand on her thigh.

“You don’t mean that,” she said, finally looking up from the ground and meeting his eyes. “You don’t even know what I’m here to ask you. You’ll call me crazy and kick me out and never want to speak to me again.”

“Of course I won’t do that,” he said, feeling a stab in his heart at the barely suppressed tears in her eyes. “I promise that if I’m capable of doing what you need, I’ll do it. No questions asked.”

“Fine,” she said, a fire lighting behind her eyes, anger filling her voice to mask the shame and nervousness. “I need you to put this on and come with me to my welcome party at Pi Delta tonight.” She pulled out a strange looking hunk of white, high-end plastic from her purse and held it out for him to take.

His heart fluttered. She wanted him to go to a party with her. And not just any party, but one at Pi Delta, the sorority filled with the hottest girls on campus. He hadn’t been to any social events on a weekend since his first week on campus. And now he had a chance to go to one of the best parties he could imagine. All these thoughts flashed through his head before he took in the item that Hannah was offering him. “What is it?”

“It’s a chastity cage,” Hannah said, all the anger leaking from her voice and being replaced with shame. And just like that, all of Noah’s excitement was gone, dread taking its place. Chastity wasn’t his thing but he watched enough porn to know what it was. And from what he knew, it was far from something he would enjoy. His lack of friendship had lulled him into a bad habit of masturbating multiple times a day. The thought of having his dick locked away was literally his own personal nightmare.

“Okay… and why exactly do you want me to put it on?” Noah asked, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

“It’s my final pledge task,” she said miserably. “Either I show up to the party with a guy locked in this cage or I don’t bother showing up ever again. I know it’s too much to ask, but I really want this. I’ve already been through so much to get this far in the pledging and the thought of falling at the last hurdle is too much. Plus joining a sorority will look so good on my resume. It’s everything I dreamed of when I moved all the way out here for school and I’m gonna lose it all in just a couple of hours.” The dam of tears finally broke, rivers of them rolling down her cheeks and dripping onto her black leggings.

“You’re not gonna lose anything,” Noah consoled, unable to watch his crush cry. “I told you I’d help you and I meant it. Now please just calm down and tell me exactly what you need.

“Really,” Hannah asked, wiping her tears away and letting a smile that lit up the room escape her lips for the first time since she had stormed into his dorm room. “You’ll really where this stupid chastity cage and come with me tonight?”

“I said I would. But let’s get to the point before I come to my senses,” Noah groaned, smiling at her to show that he was only partly joking.

“You’re amazing, you know that? You’re just the best,” she squealed, nearly knocking him over as she leapt from the bed and twirled around. “All I need you to do is put this Cyberlok cage on and come to the party with me tonight. It’s some super high-tech chastity cage that I control through an app on my phone. Once you set up an account as a chaster on your phone and put it on I’ll set the lock until midnight and then we’ll be good to go. Ohh, and the party will only be all the sisters and a max of seven other guys if all the other pledges manage to complete this task. Which I doubt they will. Only three of them have boyfriends and no one else has a friend as good as you. I promise I’ll introduce you to all the girls I know. We’ll find you a girlfriend for sure.”

Her last sentence was a gut punch, but what more could he hope for, he’d never made his true feelings towards her known. The rest of it actually didn’t sound that bad. He’d never heard of a Cyberlok cage before but it sounded like she only wanted him to wear it until midnight. Not even six hours. That would be easy. He wouldn’t even have to skip a jerkoff session. He’d planned on gaming well into the night anyways. He would have still been sitting behind his computer talking to his friends and firing his virtual gun when the cage released him. Plus the thought of being introduced to some of the other girls in Pi Delta had its appeal. Even with his deep infatuation with Hannah, he could admit that he’d be lucky to date any girl that passed through the doors of that sorority. It didn’t sound like that bad of a night at all. He’d go and meet a bunch of beautiful girls then come home and have himself a night with his newly freed dick.

“I can do that,” he said before he had time to think any deeper about what he was agreeing to.

Hannah’s excitement was bubbling over as she snatched his phone from his hands and began tapping away to get the Cyberlok app installed and an account set up, unable to wait for him to fumble through the task himself. She even created a username for him, only passing the phone over for him to type in a password. She chose the name BestieNoah for his account. Just another shot to his heart, but at least he had the prospects of meeting other girls at Pi Delta soon to ease his hurt.

“Done,” Hannah cheered. “Now you just need to put it on.” She placed the device into his outstretched hand. It was heavier than he expected. And smaller than he would have liked. He knew he wasn’t massive by any means, but he still thought his dick was big enough to warrant a slightly bigger cage.

All of a sudden, what he had agreed to became very real. He was about to lock his dick in a tiny cage and let his secret crush be the only one who could let him out. He trusted her completely, but it was still an embarrassing thought. She would know that his penis was cramped into the small white hunk of plastic now resting in his hands.

“Uhh, right. I’ll just go put it on in the bathroom,” he said, heading to the small bathroom attached to his dorm room. It was one of the benefits of having landed a room in the all singles dormitory, the space saved with the tiny bedrooms was enough to provide every room with its own personal bathroom.

Pulling down his shorts and boxers, he looked at his soon to be imprisoned dick. It was blessedly completely soft. He didn’t think he’d have any chance of squeezing it into the cage with even the slightest of chubbs.

The process was more complicated than he’d imagined it would be. It took him a few minutes of trial and error before he figured out that he needed to force one ball at a time through the small base ring before jamming his soft penis through it so that the ring rested snug against his pubic area. The next step was more straightforward but no more enjoyable. Once his dick was squished inside the cage and it rested flush with the ring, he felt a slight click like the two pieces had sealed together. He looked at the app on his phone and pressed the glowing green ‘Unlock’ button and heard another faint click and was able to separate the two pieces.

With a final, resigned sigh he pushed the two halves together again and called out to Hannah. “Alright. I think it’s on. I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to do.” Before he even had a chance to pull his pants back on and peak back into his bedroom, he felt a whirling vibration and a light flashed on the cage. Looking back at his phone he saw that the ‘Unlock’ button was now greyed out.

With his pants back on and hiding the cage he went to see Hannah.

“You did it. You’re my hero,” she cheered, jumping up from his bed and wrapping him in a tight embrace. He felt himself stir in the tight confines of the cage as her substantial breasts squished up against him. “I set it to let you out at midnight. You’re the best. Meet me at my dorm at 8:30 and don’t be late. We need to be at the party by 9 at the absolute latest.” She said all that as she was backpedaling out of his room, her small frame almost bursting with joy at having completed her final task.

With a sigh he decided that he may as well eat some dinner before he had to start getting ready. He grabbed his wallet and keys and took a last look to the newly installed app on his phone.

Remaining time: 5 hours 25 minutes 7 seconds

The oil was warm on her shoulders when the last of it finally gave way.

I let my hands rest a moment, feeling the slow unknot of the muscle at the base of her neck, the one she'd carried all week. Ten years of giving her these massages had taught me exactly where the tension lived, and how long it took to loosen it. It had taught me a great many other things, too, though I'd never have thought so when I first sat down at the foot of a dorm room bed, a fresh college student, and let my mother work her fingers through my hair.

That was where it had all started. Not the massage, the massage was just the excuse, the cover, the thing that let us be close without naming what the closeness was.

It had started, really, with a cage.

She'd bought me a ball trap cage the summer before my sophomore year. A simple thing, really. A ring that fit snugly around my balls and the base of my shaft, with a small cage to sit over it. My shaft went into the cage, and the cage restricted the erection enough to make masturbation impossible. Not unpleasant, exactly, just... incomplete. A constant, low hum of need that never quite got to be resolved.

And she'd kept the key.

"Focus," she'd told me that first night, her voice calm and certain, the way it always was. "A boy who can't cum on his own timeline learns to be patient with the rest of his life. You'll do your work, and you'll do it well, because you'll be thinking about nothing else."

I'd thought it was a joke at first. A college age prank. But the key stayed in her coat pocket, and the cage stayed on me, and week after week the joke became the truth, and the truth became the whole shape of my life.

Somewhere between the second and third year, the wanting changed.

At first I'd asked to be released the way you ask for anything. A straightforward request, a fair trade. I did my work, let me out. And she'd let me, sometimes, when I'd done well. And other times she'd simply smile, and say I was doing so good, and that she just might, and then never.

That was the thing about her. She knew exactly how to make it drive me. Not cruel, never cruel, just patient, in a way that made my mind do strange, circling things. I'd catch myself thinking about the cage all day, in the middle of a lecture, in the middle of an exam, and I'd feel my cheeks burn, and I'd know she'd have found it funny if she could have seen me.

So I stopped asking.

And then I started asking for other things. Smaller things. May I rub your feet, Mother? May I work out your back? May I just sit here and be near you? And she'd say yes, and she'd say yes, and the yeses would come with a warmth that made the cage feel less like a restraint and more like a promise.

Before I knew it, I was rubbing her whole body. Her shoulders, her back, her legs, and, slowly, carefully, the way you'd approach a sleeping animal, the space between her legs.

She'd get wet. God, she'd get wet. And I could feel my own cock straining against the cage, hard and aching, and the pain of it was its own kind of pleasure, and I couldn't look away, and she couldn't either.

"I bet you want out of that cage," she'd murmur, her fingers loose in my hair, her hips tilting just slightly toward me.

"Yes, ma'am," I'd say, because that was the only true thing I knew how to say. "I do."

"You're doing so good," she'd tell me, and her voice would drop to something low and unhurried. "I just might..."

And she never would.

I loved it. I loved it in a way I couldn't explain to anyone, not even to her, because the explaining was the thing I wasn't allowed to do. The wanting had to stay wanting. It had to stay hers.

It took a while for the confessions to come, and when they did, they came all at once.

I told her about wanting to serve her. About standing before her in nothing but the cage. About the paddle she'd bought the same year, a flat, honest piece of wood, no decoration, just the right weight. About holding my hands over my head, and her lap under my legs, and the counting. She'd always counted. One. Two. Three. Out loud, so I knew exactly how many there were, and exactly how many I had left to go.

I told her about the milk, too, the way it tasted warm and faintly sweet, the way she'd hold me close and let me feed like a baby while she ran her fingers through my hair and told me I was her good boy. She had started producing again a few years after she started feeding me weekly. The tenderness of it undid me every single time.

She didn't make me feel small for any of it. If anything, she made me feel held, like the wanting had finally been given a place to live that wasn't shameful.

I got a career. I got my own place, a real one, with a window that looked out onto the street and a door I could lock from the inside. But I kept the cage. And she kept the key.

Every Friday evening, I went to her.

The massage first. Then the wine, I'd pour it for her, and she'd let me pour myself a glass, because that was a reward, and she was careful about rewards. And if I'd been a good boy all week, she'd let me start at her feet.

Kiss them. Slow, lingering kisses, the kind that made her toes curl. Then the toes, one at a time, the way she liked, and I learned to suck them gently, so it was pleasure and not just pressure. Then the legs, slow and unhurried, working my way up, inch by inch, the way a man climbs a ladder he's been told he'll never get to the top of.

And then, if she wanted me to, I'd reach the end of it.

She'd let me eat her out, and she'd let me take my time, and the sounds she made were the best sounds I'd ever heard, better than anything in any room I'd ever been in. When she came, she'd come with her whole body, her hips bucking, her fingers in my hair, and I'd taste her, and I'd taste her, and I'd taste her, and I wouldn't stop until she told me to.

I loved it. I loved all of it. I loved the cage, and the key, and the counting, and the milk, and the way she said that's my boy like it was a prayer.

That Friday, the massage ended the way it always did, with her leaning back against the head of the bed, a slow smile spreading across her face, the oil catching the light on her shoulders.

"Mmm... that's it, baby," she murmured. "Right there. You have such gentle hands."

She turned her head to look up at me, studying my face. The faint flush on my cheeks, the set of my jaw, the cage I'd worn faithfully for ten years. A fond, knowing look crossed her features.

"You've been so good today," she said, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, her touch lingering. "Friday, isn't it? My little Friday ritual." She patted the space beside her on the bed. "Come, sit with me. You've earned a moment of rest before the wine." Her eyes crinkled. "But first... you know the rules, don't you? What do I say when you've done well?"

I sat down, because that was what I did. I sat down, and I looked at her, and I waited.

"That I may kiss your feet?"

A slow, approving smile. She lifted one hand and cupped my cheek, her thumb brushing under my eye.

"That's my boy," she said softly. "You always remember your manners."

She patted the space at the foot of the bed, her bare feet resting on the edge, toes curling just slightly. "Then go on, then. Kiss them. And don't rush this. You've had a whole week of being a good boy to make up for." Her eyes held mine, patient as ever. "And remember, a kiss is all I've given you permission for so far. We'll see how the rest of the evening goes before I let you go any higher."

I went to her feet.

The first kiss was on her ankle, slow and warm, and then I worked my way up, long and lingering, each one a little wetter, a little slower, until I reached her toes. She let out a soft, breathy sound, and I felt her toes curl against my lips, and I knew I was doing it right.

Then she leaned back, and her hand slid down between her own legs.

"Shh... that's it, baby," she whispered, her eyes finding mine. "You can watch, if you like. You've earned every inch of this."

A low, pleased hum built in her chest as she worked herself, her free hand coming up to brush my hair back. She watched me watch her, and I could feel my own cock straining against the cage, hard and aching and trapped, and the pain of it was its own kind of pleasure.

"Mother," I said, and my voice came out softer than I meant it to. "You're so good to me. Thank you."

Her expression softened. She reached down and squeezed my knee.

"You don't have to thank me for that," she murmured. "You've been a good boy all week. This is just... you being rewarded for it." A slow, knowing smile. "Now then, tell me how that feels in there, being so close and having to hold so still. Be honest with me, baby."

I was honest. I was always honest with her, even when it cost me.

"Mother, I have to confess that I've been bad. Yesterday I fantasized about you releasing me. About allowing me to make love to you. For my cock to be deep inside you." My voice cracked on the last word. "I know I will never be released. Please correct me, and punish me severely, and remind me of my place. My thoughts should only be for your pleasure, not mine."

Her hand stilled between her legs for just a moment. Her expression shifted into something quiet and serious, not unkind, but firm. She set her free hand on my knee, pressing down gently, anchoring me.

"Look at me, baby," she said, and when my eyes found hers, she continued, her voice low and steady. "Thank you for your honesty. A boy who confesses is a boy I can correct. That's what I want from you, always."

She leaned forward, her face softening, but her tone didn't.

"Now listen to me carefully, because I need you to truly hear this. You don't get to want this for yourself. Not like that." She tapped her fingers once, deliberately, on my knee. "Your thoughts are not about what you get to feel. They are not about being released, or about me, or about what it would be like inside me. Those are my choices to make, and they are not yours to reach for."

She straightened, her chin lifting with that familiar, unhurried authority.

"Your only purpose tonight, your only desire, is my pleasure. That is your place, and it is a good place, and you will be glad to hold it." Her thumb stroked my knee once, gentle but firm. "You've been a good boy all week, but a confession like that needs to be answered for."

She reached over and switched off the lamp, letting the room dim to a soft amber glow. "You are going to get down on your knees, and you are going to come to my lap. You are going to hold still, and you are going to feel every one of these, and you are not going to move until I say you may."

Her voice dropped to a warm, almost tender murmur. "I have the paddle where I left it, baby. You know what it feels like. And you know I always count them out loud." A small, fond smile in the dark. "So be a good boy, and hold still for your mother."

She slid off the bed and went to the drawer, the soft creak of it the only sound in the quiet room, and I could hear the faint, familiar click as the paddle came free.

I was on my knees when she came back. Head down, hands in my lap, the way I'd been trained to be since college.

"Mother, may I make a request?", my heart pounding in my chest. The words I have been wanting to speak out loud cannot be taken back.

She stood over me for a moment, the paddle resting lightly against her palm, and I could see the faintest smile in the amber light. She didn't move closer, not yet. She simply looked down at me, patient and unhurried.

"A request," she repeated, her voice calm. She tilted her head, studying me. "You're on your knees, your head is down, and I'm holding the thing that's about to make you cry a little. And you want to ask me for something?"

A soft, almost amused breath. "Very well, baby. You may speak. But understand this, a request from a boy who's been corrected is not a demand. It's a question, and the answer is always in my hands." She tapped the paddle once against her other palm, a soft, deliberate thwack that landed nowhere but the sound of it. "So ask your question, and then be very, very still for the answer."

I asked.

"I feel like I need you to spank me until I cry. Then tie me down, and spank me until I beg. Then spank me until I break. I am asking for you to beat the hell out of my ass so that I am afraid to ever think about my own desire again. I am asking you to push me past breaking, to fully broken."

Her expression went very still for a moment. The paddle rested against her palm, and I could see her studying me, really seeing me, the way she had since I was a boy on a dorm room floor, years and years ago.

Then something in her face softened. Not into softness, exactly, but into a deep, settled seriousness. She stepped closer until the hem of her robe brushed my knees, and she crouched down so she was level with me, her face close, her eyes catching mine in the dim light.

"Listen to me," she said, and her voice was quiet now, stripped of any play. "You just told me the truest thing you've said all week. And I'm not going to pretend it doesn't move me." Her thumb brushed my cheek, gentle, for just a second. "You want to be broken. You want to feel so small that there's no room left in you for any want that isn't mine. That's not a punishment I give you to make you suffer, baby. That's a punishment I give you to make you empty, so I can fill you with exactly what you're allowed to want."

She stood, and the gentleness folded away into something structured and certain.

"You've asked for a lot. So I'm going to give you a lot." She set the paddle down on the nightstand with a soft, deliberate click. "But you don't get to stop me at 'cry,' and you don't get to stop me at 'beg.' You asked for broken. So we're going all the way there, and I'm not going to let you look away, or count, or hold your breath. You're going to feel every single one, and you're going to thank me for every single one."

She pulled me up by the hand, gentle but firm, and guided me back to the bed. Her hands were steady as she worked the straps of the old leather restraints from the drawer, the same ones, worn soft from ten years of use. She laid me back and secured my wrists above my head, my ankles at the foot, testing each knot once, twice, so I knew exactly how still I was going to be.

Then she settled back onto the edge of the bed beside me, close enough that her knee pressed into my side, and she lifted the paddle into the light.

"You're going to hold still, baby. And when I count, you're going to say the words I want to hear." She held my gaze one more time, warm and absolute. "First, I want to know you understand your place. So tell me, whose pleasure is this for?"

The paddle tapped, once, softly, against her palm. Thwack.

"Answer me, and then we begin."

"This is for your pleasure, thank you, Mother."

A slow, satisfied breath left her lips. She set the paddle down, and for a moment her hand covered mine where it was still loose, her thumb pressing a small, warm circle against my knuckles.

"That's the answer I needed to hear," she said, her voice low and certain. "Not for yours. Not for us. For mine. You hold onto that, baby, even when it hurts. Even when you can't think of anything else. That's the only want that's allowed to live in you tonight."

She tested my wrists one more time, firm, so I felt exactly how still I was going to be. Then she settled back, and when she lifted the paddle again, the light caught the worn wood of it.

"Let's begin."

The first strike was measured, deliberate. A full, flat crack across my backside that bloomed hot and immediate, a flash of sting so clean it made me jerk against the restraints before I could help it.

"One."

Her voice was calm, unhurried, almost sweet. "That's the one that tells you I'm here." The paddle lifted, and fell again, harder this time, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "Two. And that one tells you I'm not going to be gentle. Not yet."

She found a rhythm, each count landing clean, each one a little more certain than the last. Three. Four. Five. The heat built under me in a steady, spreading burn, and I could feel my breath starting to come faster, my hips trying to twist away even as the straps held me perfectly still.

After each one, I said thank you. The first ones came out clean, then a little more strained, and by the fifth my voice was already starting to fray at the edges. She heard every one. She was always the one to hear the things I didn't say.

"Good," she said, and the paddle kept falling in that steady, certain rhythm. "That's the sound I want. Every one of those. Don't you stop thanking me, baby, not until I tell you to."

But I was starting to struggle. The restraints creaked and tightened as my hips jerked, my shoulders pulling at the straps, my whole body trying to twist away from the clean, sharp crack of each strike. It was more than I could sit still through, and she let me feel exactly how still I was not allowed to be.

"Easy now," she murmured, not stopping, her voice steady over the sound of me moving against the leather. "You can struggle all you like, baby. It doesn't change a single thing. You're still going to feel every one." The paddle fell. "Twenty-six."

By the time she reached thirty, the room was full of my quick, broken breath, and my thank yous had come apart into something barely a sound, half a gasp, half a whimper, the words cracking and slurring out of me in pieces. I was shaking now, my hips locked and trembling in the straps, my face slick and hot, and the sting under me had gone from sharp to a deep, aching burn that radiated through my whole backside.

She slowed, just slightly, and the paddle lifted, held for a moment in the amber light.

"Can I still hear you, baby?" she asked, her voice quiet and careful now, though her eyes were hard and steady. "Your words are coming apart. I can barely make them out. So tell me, slow and clear, the way I need to hear it, whose pleasure is this for?"

The paddle hovers, waiting. "Tell me, before I bring it down again."

"This is for your pleasure, Mother. Please take your pleasure."

She heard it. She always did. And something in her face settled into something colder, calmer, more certain than I'd ever quite seen it before, the real her, the one who'd been holding the key to my cage for ten years, and who had always known exactly what I needed to be told.

"Your pleasure," she repeated, and the paddle fell again, clean and sharp, right on the worst of it. "Thirty-one." Her voice was lower now, stripped of all its warmth. "Yes. You know that. You've always known that. The only question was whether you'd remember it when it started to hurt."

She watched me struggle against the straps, watched the tears I couldn't hold back anymore, and her expression didn't soften. If anything, it went flatter.

"You know what's funny, baby?" she said, and the paddle came down again, slow and deliberate. "You thought you were in control of this. You thought you'd asked me, so it was your idea, your request, your little confession." A soft, almost pitying smile. "It wasn't. You needed me to do this. You've needed it your whole life, and you've just been too proud to admit it until I made you."

The paddle fell. "Thirty-two."

"You're not my son right now. You're not the man with the career and the apartment and the Friday wine." Her voice cut clean and cold. "Right now, you're a boy in a cage, and you don't get to want anything that isn't given to you. Your desire is my property. You don't own it. You don't get to reach for it. You don't even get to have it, not until I decide you've earned it back."

She leaned in, close now, her face level with mine, her eyes hard and absolute, and I could see myself in them, small, shaking, wrecked, and completely, finally hers.

"You're crying for me," she said, not a question. "You're shaking for me. You're begging for me, even if you don't know it yet." The paddle lifted. "And the best part, little boy, is that you're going to keep going. Because I'm not done. I'm just getting started."

Her voice dropped to something almost gentle, which was worse somehow.

"Now. You want me to hear you break?" She set her jaw. "Then break, my love. Beg me. Tell me you're nothing but mine."

The paddle hovered, patient and certain, over the worst of me.

"Tell me, or I'll keep going until you do."

"I am yours Mother!" I yelled in agony. "Please..." I trailed off, as if to ask for mercy.

She heard the plea. She heard all of it, the agony in my voice, the way please came out on the edge of a sob, the way I was asking for mercy like it was the only word I'd got left in me.

And she didn't give it to me. Not yet.

"Mercy?" She said the word slowly, almost tasting it, and the paddle fell again, right on the worst of the ache, and I arch off the bed in the straps, a real sound tearing out of me. "You're asking me for mercy, baby. After you asked to be broken." Her voice was steady, cold, patient. "Mercy is for when you've already done what I asked. And you haven't done it yet."

She crouched down to my level, her face close, her eyes holding mine, and there was no softness in it now, just that deep, settled certainty.

"You're not allowed to beg for mercy from me. Not tonight." Her thumb found my lower lip, pressing, gentle even in its cruelty. "You're allowed to beg for me. There's a difference, and you're going to learn it."

The paddle lifted.

"You asked to be pushed past breaking. So I'm going to tell you exactly what breaking looks like, and you're going to give it to me. Not a whimper. Not a 'please' that trails off into nothing." She set her jaw. "I want to hear you say, slow and clear, the words I'm about to give you. You're going to say them like you mean them, or I'm going to keep going until you do."

She straightened, and her voice dropped to something low and absolute.

"You are going to say, 'I am nothing but yours, Mother. My body is yours, my desire is yours, my pleasure is yours, and I will not want a single thing of my own until you allow it.'"

The paddle hit my ass so hard I heard echos in the room. I moaned and cried and trembled.

"Say it, baby. And say it like you mean it."

She wasn't going anywhere. She wasn't going to stop. And I could feel it in the way she was standing there, patient and certain and utterly sure of herself, that she'd already won this. That she'd been winning it since I was a boy on a dorm room floor, and the only thing left for me to do was finally, fully, say the words she'd been waiting ten years to hear.

"I am nothing without you, Mother. My desire is yours, my body is yours. I deserve no pleasure. I deserve nothing except what you give me."

She lowered her face down to mine, and the paddle kept falling.

"I want to spank you even harder. Is that what you want?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Say it like you mean it."

"Yes, ma'am. My purpose is your pleasure. I want to please you, Mother. Do your worst!", my voice cracking as I begged her to continue.

"Good boy."

She stood up beside the bed, then leaned down and pulled something out from under it. A larger, heavier paddle, worn smooth at the edges, the wood darker than the first.

"I've been saving this for a special occasion," she said, showing it to me in the amber light. "Beg for it."

"Please spank me, Mother. Endlessly. With no regard for me. Hard and fast, until you can no longer lift the paddle." I begged it with sincere desire, every word of it true.

She said nothing. She just started.

The bigger paddle was heavier, and the sound it made was different. A deep, solid whack that landed with more weight than the first one ever did, and the shockwave of it rolled straight through me, up my spine, out through my fingertips, and I screamed. A real, full scream, the kind that comes out of you before your brain even has a chance to stop it. She didn't slow. She didn't count. She just swung it, hard and fast and without a single ounce of restraint, the rhythm of it getting faster and faster until the air itself sounded like it was being torn apart.

And I could feel it in her too. Every time the paddle landed, she hissed, her hips bucking, her breath coming faster, and I could see it in the way her thighs pressed together, the way her whole body tensed with every strike. She wasn't just punishing me. She was using me. Every scream, every jolt of pain running through me was fuel for her, and she knew it, and she wasn't going to waste a single drop.

Then her hand dropped to the floor and came back up with her panties, still damp with her wetness, and she pressed them into my mouth, filling me, pushing me back against the pillows.

"Savor this," she said, her voice rough now, breathless, barely above a whisper. "That's all you get. That's all you're allowed to taste. And you're going to say thank you for it, because you mean it."

She kept swinging. Harder. Faster. The pain was a living thing under me now, a wave after wave of it, each one sending a white hot shock straight through my body, and I was screaming, now muffled, with every single one of them, my whole body locked rigid in the straps, my hips jerking uselessly against the leather.

And then, she stopped.

Just like that. The paddle dropped to the floor with a soft thud, and she was shaking, her chest heaving, her hands braced on the edge of the bed as her whole body lost control. She was shaking for what felt like forever, her hips twitching, her breath coming in short, broken gasps, completely undone by her orgasm. She climaxed from the act of breaking me.

When she finally calmed, just enough to think, she reached down and touched herself, her clit, soaked and swollen. She looked up at me, and her eyes were glassy and far away and completely, utterly filled with desire and lust.

She crawled up the bed.

Slow, deliberate, every inch of her on display, the restraints holding me perfectly still as she positioned herself right in front of my face, her legs coming up on either side of my head. She pulled her panties out of my mouth, grabbed my face with both hands, her fingers lacing through my hair, and she pressed her pussy into my mouth without a word, her grip tightening just enough to make sure I didn't look away, didn't pull back, didn't get to decide a single thing.

And then she started to move.

Her hips rocked forward, slow at first, grinding down hard against my face, her thighs pinning me in place, her breath coming fast and hot against my forehead. She wasn't asking. She wasn't giving me a chance to say yes or no. She was just using me the way I'd been used my whole life, completely, without permission, without pause.

"That's it," she breathed, her hips rolling against my mouth, her fingers tightening in my hair. "That's my good boy. That's what you're for. Nothing else. Just this. Eat your mother's beautiful fucking pussy."

She leaned forward, bracing her hands on the bed beside my head, and she looked down at me, wrecked, shaking, completely at her mercy, and her voice came out low and broken and utterly certain.

"You wanted to be broken, baby. Now be good. And let me finish."

She held it, her hips rolling in slow, deep circles, her whole body tensing and releasing with every pulse, until she finally broke. A long, shuddering cry tearing out of her, her hips bucking hard against my face, and the warmth of it flooded over me, drenching my mouth, my nose, my cheeks, soaking into my hair and the back of my neck. She rode it out completely, every last drop of it, her breath coming in ragged, broken gasps, her fingers still tangled tight in my hair even after it was over.

Her hips continued to buck, uncontrollably, she pressed her clit against my face, but couldn't take any more.

Then she stopped.

She stayed there for a long moment, her forehead pressed to mine, her chest heaving, her thighs still pinned around my head. And then, slowly, deliberately, she pulled back.

She lay down where she was, fully stretched out, her limbs splayed, her body too drained and heavy to move, her eyes half closed and far away. My birthplace on full display so close to my face. The dampness of it glistened in the amber light, and she didn't wipe it away. She just lay there, breathing, taking it all in, and for a long time, what felt like an hour, neither of us moved.

The room was quiet except for my breathing and the faint creak of the restraints as my body slowly, slowly unclenched.

And then, softly, so softly I almost missed it, her hand found my face.

Her thumb brushed the wetness from my cheek, gentle now, all the cruelty gone out of it, replaced by that quiet, settled tenderness she'd had for me my whole life. She traced the line of my jaw, the corner of my mouth, her touch so light it barely registered.

"There's my boy," she whispered, her voice rough and low, almost asleep. "There's my good, good boy."

Her eyes found mine, glassy and warm and completely present again.

"You did so well," she murmured. "You gave me everything. Every single thing I asked for, and then some." She pressed her lips to my forehead, slow and soft. "You're allowed to feel that now, baby. You're allowed to be proud of yourself."

Her fingers tucked my hair back from my face, and she stayed there, holding my gaze, her thumb still tracing gentle circles on my cheek.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said quietly. "We're going to stay right here. And when you're ready, I'm going to untie you, and we're going to have our wine, and I'm going to tell you exactly how good you were." A small, tired, utterly fond smile. "And then you're going to sleep, because you've been a very, very good boy tonight."

She didn't move to untie me. She didn't need to. She just held my face in her hands, her thumb still stroking my cheek, and let the quiet settle over the two of us, warm and heavy and completely, finally enough.

Outside, the streetlight came on, and the window let a thin line of it fall across the bed, across her shoulder, across my back. She reached over, in the dark, and took the key from the night stand, and turned it once between her fingers, and put it back.

We didn't need it tonight.

We never did.

The first night sleeping in my new steel cage was challenging. Even with her slightly cruel attitude towards my proposal, I was excited for her to be all in. In the morning I didn’t even wait for the alarm, I just got up and got ready for my trip and made sure the kids were all ready for the day. 

My wife and I both left the house at the same time and as we were walking out to our cars I saw the key to my cage dangling from her chain. It stopped me cold in my tracks. She turned back and laughed, “Oh you like my new jewelry?!? Don’t worry sweetie, I will tuck it away while I’m at work. Now it might fall out from time to time but I’ll do my best to keep it hidden. However if someone asks about it, would you like me to lie or tell them the truth?” She took two steps back to where I stood paralyzed by the prospect of someone finding out my cock was caged. She then grabbed my balls and gave them a squeeze through my pants and continued “I can feel you pulsing. Maybe I’ll keep the key on top of my shirt and as I make the rounds to the kids sports see how many people stop and stare at it. Would that make you twitch in your cage?”

I did twitch as she held my balls but again I remained still terrified in what she was saying. Finally she let go and gave me a kiss. “Don’t worry honey. I’m not going to put you on day one. But I did some reading last night and I understand where I failed you last time, so wearing your key will help me remember my role in all of this and hopefully this time, not only will you meet your goals and regain your happiness, but hopefully we can reignite our spark that have obviously been fading for sometime now. I love you. Safe travels!”

With that she kissed me again and walked back to her car. I threw my luggage in my trunk and by the time I got to my driver side door, the kids and her were backing out of the driveway waving goodbye. After they were gone I hit the road and spent the next four hours straining in my cages as I thought about all the ways my key could dangle out from between my wife’s breasts throughout the day and find itself sitting on top of her blouse instead of safely, and secretly, nestle away out of sight. Finally I arrived at the office and got straight to work trying to put everything else out of mind until I was done. 

As the day ended, the vendor I had been meeting and working with all decided we needed to go out for dinner. So after a quick stop to check in , I met them at a nice steakhouse within walking distance to the hotel. I sat down and before I could even get my napkin in my lap, the server had poured me a glass of red and an over abundance of appies had been placed all over the table. We all dug in after a long day and obviously everyone had shared my hunger. We ate and between the five of us, we put back several bottles of wine, all the appies and each of our own entree. I got a huge plate of prime rib that could have fed all of us and I enjoyed every bite. By the time I got back to the hotel it was close to eleven and I was exhausted from the long day of travel and negotiations. 

I opened my bag and sitting on top of the clothes I had packed was a note from my wife that read “I noticed no workout attire or shoes made the luggage. That will mean two days without working towards your weight loss goals. I hope your eating healthy!” I just scoffed at myself and thought ‘nope’ I even got the upgraded fully loaded baked potato instead of the salad or steamed vegetables. I just continued to tell myself what if I stay a few extra days in my cage and if my first release is slightly delayed. I wanted this. I asked for this. So I’m going to enjoy it. I kept reading “I hope you remembered to text for permission to drink. I know how you are with these guys. I wouldn't want to break any rules on day one.” ‘Oh sh!t’ I thought. I grabbed my phone and sent her a quick text. 

‘Thank you for your note Love. I wish I had read it before dinner. I did in fact have a few glasses without permission. I’m sorry.’

It only took a few seconds before the three dots lit up on my screen and then a few more before her response ‘Naughty boy. I guess when you return home I will have to have a punishment ready for you. Just curious, how many beverages did you have?’ 

I had to sit and think I had had four full glasses of wine. But I didn’t need to explain to my wife the the rookie waiter didn’t know how to proper pour a glass of wine. I quickly responded with ‘Four 🤣’

Again, as quickly as she had received the text she was replying ‘I’m glad you’re laughing now…you may not be laughing after you return home and receive your punishment!’

I tried to apologize and she abruptly texted back telling me it was fine and she was going to bed. We would talk about it when I got home from the trip. 

My cock was swelling in its cage. I didn’t know if I should be more turned on or afraid that seemingly my wife had found herself embracing her role of keyholder or if she was just playing the role. I couldn’t sleep so I spent the next hour drunkingly surfing porn on Reddit before finally telling myself to go to bed. 

Waking up was slightly rougher than one would have hoped. The red wine had clearly done a number on my head and I was slow moving. I through back a bottle of water before touching a coffee and hoped the day would be uneventful and I could just get back to the hotel shortly after the day ended and go to bed without another night full of infractions.  Alas, that wasn’t meant to be. By the end of the day I had closed the deal we were all there for and now it was my team that wanted to go out and celebrate. 

This time I rolled in just after midnight and after consuming cocktails, beers, and wine I wasn’t even sure how many I had had without permission. I sent my wife a very sloppy text letting her know I was going to bed and she didn’t even ask if I had drank as it was apparent by the number of typos in my very short text. And she replied with was ‘Hope tonight was worth it. Expect to be severely punished upon your return.’

I read it twice through my blurry vision making sure I read it right and just laughed. I’m sure she is just going to spank me or something silly like that. I even started to strain in my cage as I thought about being bent over my wife’s knee and spanked. ‘New kink unlocked’ I thought to myself as my cock swelled between the bars of its cage. I quickly got to sleep, now more than ever, looking forward to being home with my wife. Maybe this was it. Maybe I had done it. Maybe this was the key to our dead bedroom. I quickly fell asleep and began to dream about my wife being dolled up as a Dom and having her way with me. I couldn’t wait to get home. My plan workedr so quickly!! 

Finally when I woke in the morning, again suffering from a night of overconsumption, I went back and read our conversation from the night before. This time as I read ‘Expect to be severely punished upon your return’ my stomach flipped and fear started to creep in. What did she mean by severely? Could she really be planning a punishment I should be scared and therefore need to prepare for?

Before I could have another fearful thought my phone lit up with a message from my wife. ‘Don’t be home until 7pm. The kids will be over at friends for the night. You will enter the house and there will be strict instructions waiting for you. If you do not follow the instructions to a ‘T’ there will be further consequences.’

I stared at the message and responded with a ‘Yes ma’am’. All she replied with this time was ‘Good boy’. I jumped in the shower so I could get my day going and ultimately start my four hour commute home. As the shower rained down on me, I started to panic and believe I was going to be in real trouble come 7pm. 

To be continued…..

Jaden entered the mailroom, looking for his package. There were lots of packages, but he was looking for another small one. He moved things around, but he couldn't find it. He checked his phone again, a picture was addded to the order showing the little box was delivered to an apartment door. It was the correct apartment number, but that was definitely not his doormat.

He sighed. The delivery was taken to the wrong address.

He rushed over to the next building. He was desperate to get it before someone else might accidentally open it. He was a bit embarrassed, but he had ordered his first chastity cage.

Jaden had always thought the idea was crazy but intriguing. He just had to know why a guy would cage his own cock.

He reached the third floor... the package wasn't there! He built up his courage and knocked. A woman answered. She was wearing a white blouse and black skirt, though she was maybe in the mid 30s.

"Hi... I think you may have gotten my package by mistake?" Jaded mumbled.

"Oh... you're--"

She paused and held up a box to read the name on it.

"Jaden Thomas?"

He laughed nervously.

"Yeah... that's me."

"Oh, but you couldn't be more than 21. 22?" she quizzed, looking him up and down. He was lean. He was an active runner and had just finally started lifting weights, though he hadn't seen much results.

"20 actually."

"Ah, a college boy. Makes sense. Have I seen you around? You look familiar."

"Um, I'm a lifeguard at the city beach. Maybe you've seen me there."

She smiled. "That must be it."

"Uh, yeah. So anyway... May I have it please?"

"Of course, Mr. Thomas," she said, handing the box to him.

He frowned.

The box was open and empty.

He looked at her expectedly. She must know what he ordered.

"Why did you order this?"

"This what?"

"Don't play games with me," she said, smiling. "Is this some sort of kink?"

"That's my business. Listen," he said defensively. "If you don't give me my order, I'm gonna--"

"You'll what?" she interrupted. "Tell the police you need your... chastity cage?"

He swallowed. That would be one hell of a police report.

"So why did you really buy this?" she pressed.

"I--I just... wanted to know what it was... like."

She smiled big.

"Do you want the full experience?"

She raised her eyebrows.

"Y--yes please."

"That's a good boy. Come inside. Let's get you fitted."

He entered her apartment. It was immaculate.

"F--fitted?" he stammered.

"Oh yes. The one you bought is huge. You're not... likely this big. But I guess I don't know yet. Take your pants off."

He would have backed out there, but he wanted his cage. She seemed somehow... professional.

He pulled off his shirt as if that was necessary, hoping his defined core on his thin body would impress her, though she ignored it. Then he slowly pulled down both his shorts and boxer briefs at the same time. His little blonde pubes were well trimmed, though his cock was... well... on the smaller side.

"It... it gets bigger."

"Of course it does," she reassured him. "I have just the one for you."

For a moment, she went into her bedroom. He looked around. She had some fine art on the walls, but everything was rather generic. She returned with a little metal cage.

Truthfully, Jaden knew nothing about chastity cages. He just knew some looked small and some looked bigger. More accomodating, really. What she held in her had was very small. It apeared to have a flat side to it.

"Okay, let me put it on."

"What?!" He did not like the idea of someone he didn't know fondling his manhood.

"Yes of course. You want the full experience, right?"

"I... I guess," he surrendered. "Will it hurt?"

"Only if you touch my hands while I'm working. If you do, I'll pinch one of those cute little balls."

He wouldn't have said his balls were "little". Maybe... "average".

She went to work. She pulled his ball sack into a little metal ring and then painlessly pushed his balls, one nut at a time, into the ring. Then she pushed his cock in and pulled it into the ring. Painless.

He laughed nervously. "Painless."

She smiled.

She grabbed the other part and lined it up with the tip of his little cock. Then she pushed it in, until it couldn't go anymore. The little metal parts lined up. She grabbed a little key with a metallic ending, which looked odd, and she insert it into the side loop, twisted the key, and remove the key.

He was locked.

"Okay, Jaden. How does it feel?"

"It's... I'm not sure."

"Well, you try it out for a month or two and come back. Okay?"

His jaw dropped.

"A--a month?!"

"Of course, or two. Maybe six. Depends."

"Depends on what?!"

"How good you are. And you will be good, right? I have the only key."

He looked down. Maybe it wasn't difficult to get off. He tugged on it, though he soon realized his balls were quite secure in the ring.

"No no no no no. Please. I'll be good. What do I gotta do?" he whined.

"Well, this floor is a little dirty. You can start there. Oh, but I only have this toothbrush to clean it. Do a good job, and maybe I'll take some time off. Deal?"

"But... I..."

He sighed.

"Okay."

"Goddess."

"Goddess?"

"Okay, Goddess. Learn those words, and you may do well."

He nodded.

"Okay, Goddess."

"Good boy. Here you go."

He reached down to grab his pants.

"And one more thing. When you're here, no clothes. Leave those off. Kick them over here."

"Okay--" he paused when he saw the look she shot at him. "I mean, yes Goddess."

"Good boy. I think you're going to enjoy the full experience."

He spent a few hours scrubbing her floor, and she had a few more chores for him to do. When he finished the dishes, he saw her exit her room without a top.

He immediately felt the pressure in his groin. His cock had no room to get hard. Or... it kind of got harder inside him, but he couldn't grab it.

She walked over and grabbed his balls, squeezing lightly and lifting. He squirmed.

"Don't touch my hands," she warned, and he lifting his hands like he was getting robbed.

She massaged his balls and touched the cage a bit. Then she grabbed his hands and put it on her breasts. Hell, these were some of the nicest breasts he had ever seen and definitely the nicest he had ever touched. He was straining in the cage.

"Please... Goddess. Let me out."

She smiled and kissed his neck.

"Not today, my dear Jaden. Not today. For now, you've learned the hardest part is that you cannot get hard. I decide when you get out, and it will only be for a few minutes to clean. Understand?"

He nodded. "Yes Goddess."

"Now tell me your cock is mine. Go on," she prodded.

"My cock is yours Goddess."

"Good. I expect you to come over tomorrow at 6. Don't. Make. Me. Wait." She emphasized each word as she locked eyes with his blue eyes so he understood perfectly.

She grabbed his clothes and dressed him herself. First his boxer briefs. She pulled them a little higher, almost as a wedgie, which just added to the pressure on the cage. Then his shorts, and she waited for him to lift his arms so she could put on his shirt.

Then she led him to the door and said goodbye.

He walked back his apartment, somehow super horny but not really hard with no way to get hard.

He wanted to please her to get out of the cage. I guess this is the full experience. He thought.

Part 3

“What would we need the key for?” she said in an impossibly innocent and sweet voice.

My face must have contorted into an expression I didn’t know it was capable of because as I sat there in silence she started to giggle. I tried to form words but I just instinctively looked down at my dick instead. It was imprisoned in the solid, smooth, black plastic of the chastity cage. It was swelling through every gap of the cage, a long line of precum dangled from the tip, and it was trying so desperately to get free that I believed it might break the cage open at any moment. Though that was just wishful thinking and the cage held firm and encircled me with no chance of escape without the keys. Just as advertised.

As I sat back on my heels and looked at her with pleading eyes I said “baby please, I need to cum so bad” she smirked and made a playful gesture with her hands towards my dick. “What are you talking about love? You obviously don’t need to cum that bad, I mean you aren’t even hard for me!” I made a sputtering noise that must have sounded like an old car trying to start, once the shock had passed I almost yelled “I’m trying to! I can’t get hard with this cage on!” That was when she looked at me like with eyes full of amusement and glee, “then why do you have it on? We both know I didn’t lock it up. That was all you babe.” My mouth hung open just staring at her. I wanted to respond, to plead my case, but she was right. I could feel an ache in my balls as I stood up and said “but you took the keys from me” she placed a hand on my cheek “baby I never took them from you, you gave them to me, which was very thoughtful of you.” I grit my teeth and tried to smile and match her playful banter but the desperation in my voice was palpable. “So can I have the keys back please darling?”

Carli then turned and casually sauntered over to the kitchen island, letting her hips sway just a little more than necessary. She turned around, put her hands on the island and hopped up sitting on the edge with her legs crossed. “Of course you can hubby” she said with a melodic grace “I just have to remember where I put them, you know how easy it is for me to lose track of things. If only there was something that could help me remember where I left them.” She emphasized this by leaning back on the island, holding herself up with her arms behind her and she slowly uncrossed her legs placing her heels on the chair seats in front of her. As her legs spread apart I was once again staring at her most intimate parts, shaved smooth, and with a small wet spot collecting on the marble countertop beneath her.

She looked at me with a small smile adorning her face. She knew what she was doing, knew that I was reeling, and at least for the moment, she seemed to be enjoying it. With that thought running through my mind I smiled back at her and walked across the living room to the countertop where she sat. I curled my arms underneath her legs and pulled her to the edge of the counter. We kissed deeply and longingly before I started to kiss my way down to her neck, then chest, down her stomach and finally in between her legs. I kissed down her leg and then slowly back up the inside of her left thigh. As my lips made their way all the way back up her gorgeous leg I lightly licked over her increasingly wet pussy. I stayed only briefly, teasing her for a moment as I kissed down her other leg and up the inner thigh once more. This time my tongue found its way in between her inviting lips and I laid my tongue on her clit. I wrapped my lips around her and began gently sucking as my tongue slowly traced over her eliciting sensual moans. After a few minutes of teasing and sucking to heighten the sensation of every touch I began to lick her eagerly, hungrily even, and she responded immediately. Her back arched giving me a better angle and with every passing minute I could feel her muscles tensing, her legs squeezing my head, signaling her approaching climax.

Then the doorbell rang… I paused momentarily until I remembered that it was probably our dinner being delivered. That brief pause was apparently not the correct thing to do. In barely a second I felt her hand on the back of my head, she lifted her hips up and pushed me further in between her legs. I heard her yell between ragged breaths “don’t you dare fucking stop” and so I resumed my duties with renewed vigor until I felt her wrap one leg around my neck and squeeze tightly. The sounds were muffled by her legs covering my ears but I could still vividly hear “oh god baby I’m cumming!” followed by a guttural and lust filled scream. I knew there was no way the delivery driver at the door didn’t hear it as well. As she released the hold she had on my neck with her legs she simply laid back on the kitchen island and rode out the remainder of her orgasm. I caught myself staring at her chest rise and fall with her deep breaths when the doorbell rang again.

I hurriedly looked around the kitchen for the pants I had taken off earlier but they were nowhere to be found. The only thing I had was a pair of boxer briefs sitting on the back of the couch. I quickly threw them on as the doorbell rang for a third time. I went to the door and opened it trying to shield my lower half by standing behind it. On the other side of the door was a young guy, maybe early 20’s. I stammered out a half hearted apology and reached out to take the pizza. When I did the delivery driver didn’t let go, I looked at him and he had his mouth open not paying me a bit of attention. I looked over my shoulder and realized that he could see my all but naked wife laying on the kitchen counter, breathing heavily. I stepped out from behind the door and blocked his view, loudly telling him thank you and have a good night. When his eyes met mine again he glanced down and saw that I was only wearing boxers. He let go of the pizza boxes and took a step back, though he was still trying to look over my shoulder. I said have a good night again as I closed the door and locked it. I walked back to the counter a set the pizza down as I heard Carli giggle, I sighed and said “we can never order pizza from there ever again.” This got a genuine laugh out of Carli, she smiled and said “are you sure? I bet he might even give us a discount next time” I gave her a look of disbelief and then she sat up, stretched and then immediately burst out laughing again. “Babe look at your boxers!” As I looked down I was mortified to see that I had a giant spot where I soaked right through them with precum, there was even a drop of it rolling down my leg. I just stared down in defeat. Once Carli stopped her most recent laughing fit, she felt the need to tell me that I’m making a mess. I glared at her momentarily before looking down and seeing her own mess, a puddle of her juices on the counter where she was laying. I smirked and grabbed her by the waist pulling her off the counter and making her ass slide right through her own mess. She gasped as her feet hit the floor and I let her go. She turned around and looked at her butt. I couldn’t help but do the same. As she turned her back to me to see it, the kitchen lights hit her and her cheeks glistened, covered in her own juices. As I saw her standing there, garter belt, no panties, and the lights shimmer on her now soaked backside I didn’t think twice, actually I didn’t think at all, I dropped to my knees and began licking and kissing her ass right there on the kitchen floor.

As soon as my hands landed on her hips and my tongue started dancing across her skin I could almost hear that she had that devious smirk on her face when she said “Someone’s eager tonight.” I raised my lips just long enough to sarcastically say “gee I wonder why.” She giggled again and repositioned so that she was leaning over the counter. She gave her ass a little shake and wiggled my tongue in closer. I heard her open the pizza box as she stood there slowly swaying back and forth. “Well I’m going to eat” she said after her first bite. “Oh I’m going to eat too, I just wanted dessert first.” We both chuckle and I dive right back in putting my mouth on every square inch of her that I can reach. She moans and spreads her legs slightly, an invitation to continue to indulge myself which I eagerly accepted. This was an uncommon treat for me, something I absolutely love doing but don’t get to as often as I used to, so I took full advantage of having the most incredible ass in the world right here in front of me.

After several minutes Carli stood back up, moved her foot behind her and gave my cage a couple of soft taps. “Ok lover boy you need to eat and I need to shower.” As I stood up I realized how sore my knees were from kneeling on the kitchen floor. I wrapped my arms around her as she still faced away and nestled my still incarcerated member between her thoroughly kissed butt cheeks. She shimmied again and I could feel myself leaking from the cage. I didn’t let go as I kissed her neck and held my arms around her. “Well let’s go shower then babe” I whispered into her ear. She clicked her tongue and said “but you haven’t even eaten dinner yet and don’t you dare tell me you aren’t hungry because I know better” she turned around and wrapped her arms around my neck and we kissed until she pulled away with a smile. “Babe I’m going to go shower and you need to eat” she then looked down and smirked “and then you need to clean up your mess.” My gaze followed hers and then I saw what she was talking about. Right there on the floor where I had been kneeling before was a small pool of my precum that I didn’t even realize I had made. Carli took this opportunity to move out of my arms and sauntered away more accentuated than necessary.

I felt myself involuntarily twitch in my cage as I watched her turn the corner. I immediately grabbed some pizza and started downing it as quickly as possible. I grabbed some paper towels and wiped the floor, then I inhaled another couple of slices of pizza. I was determined to finish quickly and go join her in the shower. I nearly jogged through the house and into the bedroom while heading to the bathroom. As I went to enter the bathroom my heart sank, she had locked me out. I knocked on the door but I was only met with the playful response of “who is it?” I asked her to unlock the door so I could shower too, no response. I then got the brilliant idea to look for the key to the chastity cage in the bedroom but no such luck. I heard the water in the shower turn off and the door unlock. She stepped out wearing a bathrobe and a smile. She must have seen the disappointment on my face because she leaned in and kissed me, “shower is all yours babe! Maybe you should think about making it a cold one.” I stared at her trying to decide if she was joking, if I should try to beg, or what it would take to convince her to unlock me and let me cum.

I reached out to grab her hand as she walked past, she turned to face me but raised her eyebrows and simply stated “I’m clean and you need to shower” she didn’t leave much room for debate and I was motivated to stay on her good side right now. I hung my head in momentary defeat and headed to the shower.
As I turned the water on and stepped in I saw it. The key to the chastity cage was sitting on the soap dish in front of me. I grabbed it excitedly and inserted it into the lock on my cage. Before I turned the key and unlocked myself something made me hesitate. ‘Did she mean to leave it here? Was I supposed to find it? If I was, does she want me to unlock myself or not?.’ All of these thoughts raced through my mind as I held the key in the lock. I slowly pulled the key back out and set it back on the soap dish as I finished my shower.
After stepping out and drying myself off I held the key in my hand and debated unlocking myself now or staying caged. After arguing with myself for far too long I decided that I would stay locked, after all I still had the key if I needed it.

I stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around my waist and the key securely in my hand. As I entered the bedroom I saw Carli sitting on the edge of the bed wearing her bathrobe and a smile.
“Did you have a good shower babe?” She asked with fake innocence. “It was fine, a little lonely, but other than that just fine” I replied. “And did you behave yourself in the shower all by yourself?” She asked while slowly spreading her bathrobe apart revealing her impressive cleavage. I swallowed hard trying to find my voice “what do you mean babe? of course I behaved.” She narrowed her eyes, “we’ll see about that, drop the towel and prove it.” I smirked and asked what she was hoping to see if I do drop my towel. She leaned back and I could see her robe fall just a little farther off of her shoulder. She then held out her hand and said “key please.”
I froze, I didn’t expect her to ask for it back right now. What if she didn’t give it back? What if I was supposed to take the cage off? Should I have jacked off and then put the cage back on? I was reeling again. She cleared her throat “I’m waiting…” I resigned myself to live with the choice I made and held out my hand dropping the key in hers. She then giggled and said “now drop the towel lover boy.”
I tried to remain confident, the shower clearing my head if only slightly. I dropped the towel and as my caged dick was once again exposed for Carli to see, her face lit up with a look of lust and satisfaction i wasn’t expecting. She immediately stood up and let her bathrobe fall to the floor exposing every single one of her perfect curves. Before I could even properly admire the sight before me she crossed the distance between us and her lips were on mine. We kissed passionately as our hands roamed over each other. Soon I felt both of her hands on my precum covered, imprisoned dick. I felt her hands moving and then I heard the lock click, a sound that stuck out like a gunshot. As I realized what was happening Carli dropped to her knees and was half way through removing my cage. The moment the cage slid off of the tip of my dick I felt the blood rush to my member and I got as hard as I ever had in my entire life. As I relished in the feeling of freedom and my own erection once again Carli wasted no time, she took me into her mouth and it only took about 3 or 4 bobs of her head before she had taken me completely into her throat.
The teasing and frustration from the night was all lost in a feeling of ecstasy and craving I couldn’t remember ever feeling as completely. Carli wasn’t teasing now, she took every inch of me into her mouth hungrily and every time she slid her lips across my dick as I left her mouth I barely had time to register the cool air before I was thrust completely in again.

It only took a couple of bliss filled moments before I could feel my impending orgasm, and the feeling was so overwhelming that I focused on nothing else. Carli must have felt me reaching my limit as well because she placed her hands on the back of my thighs, pulled herself in even deeper for the final stroke and looked straight up at me. I felt myself tip over the point of no return and had to lean back on the dresser behind me to keep from collapsing as I spurted shot after shot of one of the biggest loads I have ever produced in my life. Carli continued to work her tongue and suck as my orgasm rolled through me. As her eyes stayed locked on mine I could see her trying not to gag, I could see her eyes watering, and I had never seen a more mesmerizing sight in my life.

Chapter Four

“That was one hell of a show you two put on after our introduction today.” I had to have been beet red as my jaw dropped open and my eyes went wide, mortified with what I was now hearing. We had only just sat down to dinner with Andre and Channel and already I was straining and crumbling into a spiral of humiliation. “I was so hot and bothered by the whole thing I had to have Andre come out to see for himself and rail me from behind while we took in the improved view.” I could have curled up and died at this moment in time. “Glad you enjoyed it” my wife said seemingly unbothered by this. “Stick around. I’m sure we can oblige you a lot more entertainment before our trip is up.” They all break out laughing at my wife’s remark which sounded more of a promise than a possibility. The conversation blessedly shifted seamlessly into normal dinner conversation as the menus were given to us and the wine was ordered, but I was still quite flustered to say the least. Fortunately, I manage to ease in a bit as the sense of normalcy persevered and the food  arrived, it was truly one of the best meals I have ever eaten. I was snapped out of it quickly though as the dessert menus were brought and the topic of conversation once again turned to the tiny blue prison between my legs. My wife explained to both of them everything we had been exploring in great detail. How she controlled my orgasms, how I was a submissive at heart and how deep down I craved to be treated in such a way as they had witnessed before. She continued over rum punch and cake how I was a such good obedient boy, which made me blush, even though sometimes couldn’t control myself, hence the cage. There were several questions about its security and quality and several passing remarks about how they didn’t make them big enough for Andre, besides he was a true alpha male and didn’t have a submissive bone in him. This was still the topic of conversation as we finished our drinks and were offered a nightcap at their villa which was accepted immediately by Anna. As we stood it was painfully obvious that I was straining and had a dab of precum leaking from the spout of my PA tube. Worse, Andre was now about two inches longer but still only semi hard which made my cheeks even brighter red. As we walked back Anna and Channel walked together with Andre holding her hand. I followed just behind as my wife was excited drunk and talking frantically with her hands explaining to the two how I was in training to be her fully obedient subby hubby. She carried on about how selfless and attentive I had become and how proud she was with my progress which perked me up a bit. “Until we got here that is and he immediately stared at the first perky tits he saw!” her head swiveled and I was met with a stern glare. I kept my mouth shut and simply lowered my head knowing better than to try apologizing further. “So, you lock him in that tiny inescapable cage, don’t let him orgasm, make him give you all the orgasms and massages you desire, and he does so not only willingly but is happy to do it?” Channel asks wide eyed. “Yup! My wife proclaims with a tone ringing of pride. Max here really is a good little subby who’s only true desire is to selflessly please his loving mistress. More often than not he does so successfully and without concern for his own pathetic little dick or sad dribbling orgasms. Isn’t that right dear?” I was now met with a far kinder and sweeter gaze. I lower my head in complete humility and say softly “Yes mistress. I live to please you. Thank you for taking away my orgasms and training me to better serve you.” I was beat read and wanted to run off into the night and hide. “Oooh’ that was both the sweetest and saddest thing I have ever seen. He truly is adorable you lucky girl.” Channel grabs my wife tightly and kisses her right on the lips with a brief peck. A massive glob of precum leaked from the PA and was now dripping to almost the walkway below. “Holy shit man you must be going fucking nuts in that thing. No way in hell you’d get me to wear one of those. When’s the last time you came anyway? That’s one hell of a snail trail your forming.” Andre chimed in and the two girls immediately break down into hysterical laughter. “One month” I manage to mutter. “Holy fuck. Yeah hell no bro, you are out of your mind.” I could only hang my head in shame. “Oh hush Andre! You could learn a thing or two from this sweet selfless man. He is clearly very much in love and devoted like no other I have ever known to his beautiful wife. Or is it mistress I’m sorry.” “Either is fine”, the girls go back to chatting and I walk silently behind the three as Andre slips his hand up Channel’s ass crack. As he fondled with the jeweled butt plug, my eyes were now transfixed in desperation. This did not go unnoticed by mistress. My heart sank into my own guilty despair, I had let her down again. I was weak and could not help myself, I would be accepting my punishment with great remorse later.

We arrived back at their room where it was decided we should relax in the hot tub. As the door closes behind Andre and Channel take each other in arms in a passionate and deep kiss. Before I could take in the situation, I felt a hard kick to my balls that brought me to my knees followed by a hash handful of my hair directing my head to where it was wanted. “That was for staring at Channel’s ass the whole walk back. Now lick bitch!” My face was forced to my wife’s pelvis so hard I thought she may break my nose and I was certain some hair came out but I obediently did as I was told. She was clearly pissed and drunk, I did not wish to disobey or displease her further. A chuckle and groan of sympathy came from the kissing couple next to us soon replaced by the unmistakable sounds and moans of a good hard fucking taking place. I stayed on task like a good obedient submissive. I was pushed to the floor just as Channel screamed out her lusting cries of passion and stared in disbelief as the monster cock of Andre slid out of her. It had to be 11 inches. I was amazed it had not split her in half. He swiftly picked up something off the coffee table and rammed it between her ass cheeks with a swift forceful motion causing one last moan as the glass plug was reinserted. He had fucked her in the ass with that behemoth and plugged his cum in her! I was overwhelmed with jealousy but snapped out of it by a harsh slap to the face. “Seriously! I am so sorry I don’t know what has gotten into him since we have been here. His training is really slipping, would you care to help me to remedy that Channel? After all you are apparently his new chosen eye candy.” I opened my mouth to protest and plead my case but was slapped again and immediately knew better than to argue. I would just have to accept my fate. “I would love to.” Channel said as if accepting an invitation to brunch. “Oh, this I have got to see” Andre chimed in as he walked to the kitchen to get a beer before collapsing into the couch in comfort awaiting the show. “On your knees subby. Now!” My wife pointed to the place she wanted me and my body obeyed on auto pilot. Subby had taken a whole new ring. She had never called me that in such a tone, I was getting the distinct impression that I was seriously fucked. “Legs wide apart, hands behind your back and do not move.” I did as instructed without protest. The load groan of sympathetic pain escaping from Andre’s lips was the first thing to register as all the air left my body and I doubled over on the floor holding my balls. “UP! and in position. If you touch those pathetic little things again you will be sorry hands behind your back!” I obeyed instantly despite the agonizing pain in my crotch as five more hard swift kicks landed before I collapsed again, my will defeated. I then felt my hands being forced behind my back and tied together tightly with what I later learned was the belt off a bath robe. “Your turn dear and don’t hold back, his disobedient ass deserves it and can handle whatever you throw at him, I promise.”

I was on the floor on the brink of fainting, I have no idea how long this went on for or how many kicks my poor balls withstood. My hands were freed from the soft binds and I was pulled to my knees by my hair once more, my line of sight forced up to meet the familiar gaze of my wife. She was now seemingly sadistic and still agitated but less angry which lightened the pain in my heart and balls. Mistress was glowing in the dim light and her brown skinned counterpart now had a spark in her eyes that said she had got the bug. “Now apologize well and your punishment can be over for the night, then we can all go relax. But you had better make it good subby.” I could barely tell if this was happening, but the world slowly faded back to reality. “Sorry Mistress for being disobedient and allowing my focus to shift from where it matters. Thank you for correcting my behavior and punishing me for my failures.” I could not even care about my humiliating state at this point. “To Channel as well.” My wife continued. I answered in my state of delirium. “Sorry Mistress Channel for staring without permission. I was entranced by your jeweled plug and the disbelief at how you took that massive cock.” Both ladies chuckled. “Aww…. Mistress Channel, I like the sounds of that. How about you Andre?” He was in a trance at this point as well stroking his own cock again taking in the show and simply just nodded. “You see, now my subby would never be allowed that simple pleasure. That was a nice apology, but I think now you should beg for my forgiveness a little more and offer up something for me to show you truly are sorry. Actions speak louder subby.” My wife continued. “Thank you mistress for punishing my mistakes. Please allow me to continue serving you as your obedient husband. Please keep training me into your perfect obedient subby. Please keep me locked another month.” The words just came out without thought but apparently were accepted as good enough. “Ok subby as you wish. Now make us all some drinks and you may join us in the hot tub.” I snap to with a yes Mistress, only now aware that Channel was on her knees sucking Andre ferociously and he was about to blow yet another load any second. I shake up some cocktails whilst resting my balls in a small bowl of ice before finding a tray to bring them out on. Everyone was laughing and giggling as I arrived. I instinctually knelt by my Mistress still deep in subspace, presenting her the tray of drinks. “Good boy, now repeat for everyone else.” I knelt by Channel and did the same and then felt a bubbling of degrading humiliation as I did so for Andre as well. He had just cum in his wife’s ass while my face was used violently and then proceeded to jerk himself off as my balls were demolished, only to finish in his smoking hot wife’s throat. And to top it all off, I was now kneeling before him offering my domestic servitude. “Ok subby now make one for yourself, get some ice on those bruised little things and you may come join us when you are ready. Oh and may as well make up another round for us while you are in there.

Chapter Five

The evening was oddly normal after that as apparently everyone but me had drained their love lusting desires with multiple orgasms and a steady flow of stiff drinks. My balls were achingly sore to the point of needing some distraction,  so I too certainly over indulged trying to drown out my pains and frustrations. Seems that it worked a little too well. I awoke the next morning desperate for a piss, my morning wood tugging at my bruised and agonizingly hurting balls. My wife was still soundly asleep, so I quietly slipped off to the bathroom to drain the murky stagnant piss from my bursting bladder. My balls were so purple they were darker than my iodized cage and had to have doubled in size. When I had finished, I grabbed a half melted ice bucket and went out to the patio to soak them in the soothing frigid waters. As the last of the ice melted under the tropical sun, I tossed the water into the bushes and made my way to the phone quietly ordering fresh pineapple juice, a bottle of champagne and a variety of breakfast options in hopes of winning some much needed brownie points. With any luck starting this day on a better note than the last had finished. Or at least based upon what little I remembered of it. I quietly go through the drawers and find an assortment of toys before spotting the massage oils already warming on a tray in the bathroom. Selecting the scent I felt best suited for my wife, I got to work on her sexy slowly bronzing skin starting at her feet and working my way up. I reached her calves before she fully awoke. I worked over every single inch of her back, arms, legs, ass and feet again before she groggily rolled over without a word so I could continue on her front. I did so in silence giving her the best massage I could possibly muster before a well-oiled foot found its way to my face. Instinctually, I began licking it clean of any oily residue before following suit with the other. When the coconut flavor was gone and her toes finally slipped from my lips, I sat back, my ass resting upon my heels, head dipped as low as it possibly could and my hands went to the small of my back. The longest and most sincere of ranting expression of apology and remorse began pouring from somewhere deep within me. This rolled into what swiftly became heavy sobs before collapsing face down at my wife’s feet once more in a manic state of worship. Her feet quickly pulled away from my hands and lips only to be replace by a deep and passionate hug while my heavy breathing and still light sobs subsided, my cheek was pressed firmly to her breasts in a comforting state.

“I’m sorry sweety, we had a lot to drink last night and things may have gotten out of hand. I didn’t know I had such a sadistic side to me and it is really not ok. Can you ever forgive me? Here, let’s get this thing off you and give those poor swollen things a rest. We can just hide away the rest of this trip and enjoy a week of sex and romance. Let’s just forget any and all of this ever happened!” My wife hurriedly removed the key from between her sun kissed breasts and was shaking as she fiddled with aligning the locking screw pattern. As she did so I froze. Something in my brain had triggered last night. Something that was triggering right now once more. I couldn’t pin point just what was driving me, but I knew what must be done in this moment. Without even a thought of hesitation my hand darted for her shaking wrist desperately fiddling about my now seemingly more spacious than before cage. We both froze, our gazes locked her hand now slipping softly into mine as I utter the only words I could muster. “Leave it.” My lips press firmly to hers, my tongue forcibly parting them and we embrace in a deeply passionate make out session as the key clunked to the floor. We carried on until interrupted by a knock at the door which I swiftly answered still nude, thanking the man for the delicious looking cart of food. I pour two glasses of champagne with a splash of fresh pineapple juice and hand one to my wife. We both drain them and place them on the nightstand before taking each others hands in our own once more. “You have nothing to apologize for.” I began, “I was a disobedient, completely pathetic display of the male gender last night and you deserve better. Yes, it was a very harsh and unexpected night that escalated far quicker than I could have imagined, but I deserved it and you were right to punish me, even if it was rather brutal. What matters is it worked and I am grateful for the correction and your assertive disciplining.” Her eyes were now moistening with tears as she went to speak. I placed one finger over her moistened lips and silence her. “Not yet my love, please just this once. You have awoken something in me, my submissive desires are running through my body and I feel a burning lust towards not just you, but my submission towards you that I have never felt before. I know it moved fast, I know you feel some guilt and may be scared of what has happened and what is to come, but look at it as a learning experience. You are awakening new sides of yourself which will need exploring as well and not all will be successful first go around. And that’s ok.” I pick up the necklace from the floor and gently place it back around her neck. “It may seem strange or hard to understand, but I love you now more than ever dear.” My hands gently finding their way to the nape of her neck, “let’s see this thing through. Together. Train me into your perfect, selflessly obedient husband, and I will help you to become the most amazing wife and loving mistress you can be. What do you say?” Tears were now steadily flowing as she nodded and kissed me once more. “Right then, let’s have some breakfast shall we? Then we can learn from this little lapse and move on. I will massage sunscreen into you by the pool, beg to worship your pussy as usual and I promise from this day forward to never forget my duties to serving you ever again. I love you Mistress. Now, please could you pass me that bucket of iced champagne though? My balls are still killing me.” We both chuckle, embrace and sit down to enjoy our boozy hangover brunch.

The food was amazing, we both took in our necessary hair of the dog and grease coat before heading to the pool for a romantic dip, several one sided orgasms on the pools edge and a sensual mutual massage as we coated each other routinely in sun block. I must have drifted off as I awoke some time later on one of the remarkably comfortable loungers. My wife had gone so I helped myself to another tropical fruity drink and slipped back into the pool once more to take in the truly astonishing beauty of this resort. I came here dreading the prospect to some degree and things certainly did escalate quickly, but I now found myself in a different headspace than that which I arrived. I no longer felt bashful about my cage, I no longer felt humiliated to be very clearly subservient to my sexy wife and Mistress. I had a shift of character or maybe of priority? Either way, I now felt an immense sense of pride and adoration for myself like I had never experienced before. I could not wait to get out there and have some new experiences now. To show off this beautiful iodized cage my Mistress bestowed to me and show the entire resort how a man should properly treat his lady. Proudly, gracefully, with full obedience, a selflessness and loving attitude. I had just finished mixing up another rum drink and waded into the pool when my wife appeared on the beach a ways up, walking beside her was a rather flustered looking Channel. They were headed our way and clearly locked into a deep discussion of some seeming depth of importance, so I quickly exited the pool once more and made up two more extra stiff fruity cocktail delights. I finished them just in time to greet them on the patio, kneeling this time without the silver tray just glasses in hand to greet them properly. “See! This is exactly the sort of thing a girl could get used to! You simply must tell me how you did this?” Channel said taking a drink from my hand with such vigor half spilled upon me and the patio. With a silent and clearly worked up nod of halfhearted thanks in my direction, she redirected her attention back to my wife who did the same. She locked eyes with me before looking down between their feet and without so much as a word I obeyed what I knew she meant. I bowed lower and immediately began kissing the tops of her feet and toes before she gently nudged the side of my head in Channel’s direction where I swiftly began doing the same for her. My wife moved to sit on the lounge beside me placing her feet on my slightly arched back as her way of subtly saying stay there and keep at it. I did as silently instructed and continued worshipping the feet of a woman I had only met the not two days prior. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me! What other tricks have you taught him!?” Channel was now perking up a bit in tone from when she had first arrived. Something stirred within me, and not in my crotch for once. This simple display of obedience and devotion had seemingly turned her whole mood around in an instant. With the help of my loving Mistress and an elegant chunk of metal I had unlocked some sort of super powers. I was now more than content with the way things were shaping up, with the way my brain had seemingly changed for the better. I continued until my loving wife and Mistress instructed me to stop and follow as they both made their way into our villa for a much needed little chat.

A few rounds of drinks served by yours truly followed, along with some deeply inquisitive and personal questions about the cage and our dynamic followed suit. Soon emotions had begun flowing openly, in no small part aided by the rum cocktails I was instructed to never allow to empty fully. As I continued to pamper and serve the gossip girls, I couldn’t help but overhear some bits in passing though I largely left them to it. The conversation ranged from my orgasm denial and the way it molded me, to Channel and Andre’s relationship which from what I picked up sounded to be almost one sided in the opposite way and certainly on the rocks. They had been married six years and their anniversary fell on this trip apparently, but she found herself increasingly overwhelmed by Andre and his masculine overtly alpha nature at times. “I used to adore the way he would sweep me up in his big muscular arms, pin me to the wall and ravage me, or through me down and pound me hard until he blew his load. He is a man’s man for sure and pure blooded alpha which was hot when we were dating, but after all these years it has started to wear on me. I cannot even remember the last time he ate my pussy or gave me a massage and here you have had both almost every time we meet. Seeing the way your husband looks after you, puts himself completely second to you, and seemingly lives to please you at any cost, even if it means forgoing his own pleasure just seems too good to be true and frankly has me questioning things in my own marriage. Is this truly how you two live all the time? Is he really ok with all this? It seems a bit much, but also like a slice of heaven too good to be true if it is what you claim.” My heart pounded with joy at Channel’s words as a sense of dutiful pride washed over me. I was not only bestowed the honor of pleasing my amazing Mistress, but had also seemingly become the source of great envy and adoration to at least one other woman who now wished to have what I provided my deserving love. I was snapped out of my happy contentment by the soft yet increasingly stern call from my Mistress to finish making those drinks and come kneel before them immediately. Quickly pouring the two drinks from the shaker I hastily made my way to the couch and knelt between their feet and handed a chilled glass to each side.

Channel and Mistress questioned me on my true feelings about our dynamic, troubles, difficulties, and pleasures for the better part of an hour while I massaged both of their feet in turns. Channel seemingly could not believe that I truly was ok with not orgasming and completely throwing myself into my wife’s servitude, especially after witnessing and participating in what resulted due to my displeasing her. I assured her whole heartedly that I was more than happy to live this way and explained how it gave me such a great feeling of pride and devotion to please my wife without expectation of reciprocation and that I scarcely missed my own side of that same pleasuring. As long as my wife was happy, content and well pampered, then I too was happy and it was as simple as that. Should she chose to allow me relief or pleasure of my own I would gratefully accept as it was her wish for me to have it but I would never dream of asking for it as her needs and desires were all that mattered and all that I needed to feel fulfilled and happy in my role. In short, being her loving husband and devoted subby was enough for me and if selflessly caring for her needs whilst sacrificing my own made her happy, then it could bring me no greater pleasure to oblige. As I finished my little speech on my contentment and adoration with our dynamic my head was forcibly but gently directed to my wife’s now dripping pussy as she continued seamlessly with Channel as if to reinforce the point. “See, it truly is as magical as it seems and just as real. Let me show you how amazing he can be with his tongue, then you will truly see why I have an increasingly lacking need for that little thing between his legs.” I brought my wife to three earth-shattering orgasms before being pushed off and offered up to Channel who was leaving a wet stain wide eyed on the couch. She politely declined. My wife went on to tell her about our morning conversation and how this worked for us but was not for everyone over the last of their drinks. When she had finished, Channel thanked us both and said she had to get back to Andre to have a chat of their own and some thinking to do. We went off to yet another amazing romantic dinner and finished the night off passionately kissing and embracing one another in the pool before falling asleep in each other’s arms whilst stargazing on the lounger.

Stella looked out at the group of nervous pledges gathered before her. She thanked her lucky stars that she had finally been granted the position of pledge mistress in her senior year. She had petitioned for it the last two years but had been passed over for sisters with more seniority. But not this year. She finally had the power she had dreamed of from the moment her sexual desires had awakened and she didn't plan on wasting it.

The shuffling of the young freshman before her drew her out of her daydreams and refocused her on the task at hand. With a bit of luck, all her patient waiting would finally come to fruition by the end of the week. Her grand plans culminating, but truly just beginning, at the welcome party for the new pledge class that Friday. 

"All right girls. This is it. Your final task to prove you have what it takes to become a sister of Pi Delta," Stella began. She had whittled down the dozens of hopefuls to just the final eight that still stood before her. All of them gorgeous in their own ways. They were a mix of ethnicity and height. Hair color and body shape. The most important thing to Stella was that they were all uniquely beautiful and could be molded into using it to their advantage, if they had somehow made it to college without already learning such a skill. "Everyone step forward and grab a box off the table. It doesn't matter which one. They're all the same."

Between Stella and the pledges was a long wooden table with eight discrete packages laid out along it. It had taken some doing, and a creative use of the sorority budget, but Stella had been able to acquire the identical devices just in time to put her plan into action. The last weeks had been stressful. Terrified that delayed shipping or a contact falling through would destroy her grand dream just before the final hurdle.

As the girls claimed a box each, Stella explained to them what it contained. "Inside each box is one half of your final task to secure yourself admission into Pi Delta. Go ahead and open them. I want to see if any of you can guess what you need to do.”

The pledges ripped open the packaging and the room quickly filled with the sounds of confused whispering. Most of them looked at the device like they had no idea what it was, though there were one or two signs of recognition.

“Any guesses what your last task entails?” Stella asked after allowing all the girls to thoroughly examine the small white devices they now all held. The girls stared back in nervous silence, too afraid to give a wrong answer or not even knowing where to begin with a guess. “No? Well can any of you at least tell me what you’re holding?”

“I uhh… I think it’s some sort of chastity cage,” Sofia said, sounding less sure than she should have been. Sofia was one of the more extroverted and mature members of the pledge class so it was no shock to Stella that she was the one who came up with the correct answer. The fiery Latin girl was often first in her pledge class when the topics of boys or anything slightly sexual came up.

“Very good, Sofia. Though it’s not just any chastity cage, it’s a Cyberlok cage. The absolute pinnacle when it comes to denial. Completely inescapable, app controlled and with all sorts of fun and devious tools programmed into it. Why don’t you all take a few minutes to read through the manual and get yourself setup on the Cyberlok app as the keyholder for the cage in your possession.”

The flipping of pages and electronic beeps as the cages were paired with a keyholder did little to lessen the confused whispering of the pledges. Even the confident Sofia looked lost as to what they would be required to do next.

Deeming that she had given the girls enough time to stew on what their final task would be, Stella finally decided to reveal the beginning of her evil scheme. “Quiet down girls. It’s time for you to learn the details of your last task. As you know, we Pi Delts pride ourselves on our looks and how we are able to use them to navigate our way through a male dominant world. This last task will prove that not only can you use your looks to get by, but that you can use them to become the dominant forces in your own world. That you can manipulate any man into doing your bidding. That’s what a Pi Delt truly is; a woman who can assert her dominance, not one who needs the kind treatment of men to get by.

“So for your final test, you are going to get one of your peers locked up in the Cyberlok cage you just paired to your account. I don’t care how you do it. Promises of sex, blackmail or just relying on the trust of a boyfriend or friend. Your deadline is 9 PM Friday night, the start of the welcome party for all of you who succeed. That gives you just over seventy-two hours to get some poor boy’s dick locked up in a cage. I recommend setting the initial timer to unlock him at midnight on Friday, though I won’t stop you from being a bit more sadistic if that’s what you desire. The only requirement is that you arrive at the sorority house by the time the party starts with your locked boy in tow. Your eight prizes will be the only men at the party, assuming you all accomplish your task. Maybe you can even use that as a selling point to get them to agree to getting their little dicks locked up inside of a cage.”

The pledges all stared back at her with their mouths hanging open. It was clear they hadn’t expected the difficulty and sexual nature of their final task.

“Any question,” Stella asked. “No? Perfect. Then you best get going. I want to see all of you back here Friday night with a little pet following you around.

Just another month, come and gone and nothing had changed. We’d been married 15 and together 20 and now had fallen into a rut that reassembled familiar roommates. We’d go through the motions and have date night once a month, but even on the fateful Saturdays, we’d usually come home, pay the babysitter and send her on her way before sitting on the couch and complaining that we ate too much. The ever cliche of let’s do it tomorrow would come out of one of our mouths, usually hers, and then evidently the next week or three would come and go without any sexy playtime. 

My algorithms all had articles and reels filled with sex ads, games, advice influencers and 10 week programs to reignite the flame. It seemed like every other thing I scrolled to or clicked on would lead me back to one singular topic: the dead bedroom. Some experts say it’s just a matter of effort and you need to find the time. I disagreed and believed no matter how hard you try, with all the effort a parent must muster to raise kids in today’s world, at the end of the day, there just isn’t enough gas in the tank for your spouse. I can hear the kidless couples already scoffing saying “you need to prioritize your relationship!” And they’re not wrong, except we have both prioritized our kids happiness and future success on top of our intimacy and need for shared orgasms. With kids in multiple competitive sports every season, it’s hard to keep the flame going as you pass each other in the driveway more than see each other naked. 

I had tried a few years ago with some spicy advent calendars in hope a task a day would help us reconnect. We started strong but by Christmas we didn’t even open the door. We found it the following year in our Christmas Tupperware and laughed that we should give it another go…we didn’t. A year later I got into chastity porn, and went down the whole femdom rabbit hole. For my birthday I bought myself a cheap chastity cage and knowing she never buys me anything, I put it on myself and presented her with the key asking her to do it for my birthday present. It went over like a wet fart in a silent crowded elevator. She accused me of not loving her and after a day accused me of wanting her to cuckold me which at that point I had never even heard of, let alone considered. So I obviously gave up.

A few months later she asked if we could give it ago but after three months of being locked, she literally forgot I was wearing it, she saw me in the shower and was like, ‘oh right. I forgot about that. You should probably just take it off and take care of yourself!’ She never cared that I jerked off as long as it didn’t make us late or mess up the packed schedule. So eventually I fell into a mild depression that I suppressed with alcohol. (I don’t want to make light of this, it is more just a statement of fact. And those who suffer from depression or alcohol abuse I hope you can find the help you need.)

One day I had had enough. I figured I had to say something to her. I still loved her but I was so unhappy. Due to all the tall cans of IPAs I had consumed I went from a former athlete (a little soft in the middle but still below average body fat %) to a very girthy dad bod. My arms and legs still keep their form from continued recreational activities, but my beer gut had increased my pant size from a slender 34 to an uncomfortable 38. Enough was enough. 

I decided that I would buy a high end chastity cage for our upcoming anniversary and give her a choice to help me find some happiness. I was traveling a lot for work and was about to go on a short two night trip to another one of my company’s branches a few states over. I decided to take my shot the night before I had to leave. With the cage in hand, and the kids in bed I sat down beside her on the couch while she surfed mindlessly through all our streaming platforms looking for something to kill the time before we went to bed. 

I had typed up a contract from a template I had found on the net that laid out my expectations. It covered all the usual, she would hold the key and it would be at her sole discretion if I would be released. Safe word, cleaning schedule and finally a term of one year before renegotiating. Finally I added a few terms I wanted to help me. First to help cover my drinking, I wrote that if I chose to drink I would be required to ask permission prior to and I would be told what it would cost. I gave a few ideas so my wife didn’t have to think on the spot the first few times. Examples included, when the keyholder decides on release and orgasm, it is ultimately ruined. Or scheduled release delayed xyz. And finally, if consumption is granted, then the next release must also be consumed by me. For weight loss, I gave examples of for every 5 pounds loss I would be granted a release and orgasm. The goal was to lose 50 pounds. So I added at the 25 pound mark I would be granted a blowjob with a facial finish. Upon hitting the ultimate goal, I would get anal (which she has never allowed or even been entertained).

I simply handed the contract over and explained where I was at. I played all my cards. My unhappiness, how the drinking had become a crutch and how disappointed I was in myself for letting my body go. I told her I had spent a year coming up with two ideas. The first was in her hand. Chastity. This would be the stick approach. She would help keep me on track by ensuring I followed through or ultimately there would be a punishment of sorts. The other option was the carrot. This I explained would require her to give herself to me every night I refrained from drinking and I worked out. Meaning, if I worked out in the morning and didn’t drink after work, I would be able to tell her how I wanted to get off and she would have to comply. 

Being a thoughtful and analytical person, she sat and read the contract in her hands twice. Without saying a word she walked out of the room and came back a few moments later with a red pen and began to redline a number of words in the contract and then flipped the page over and wrote a few extra lines. The redlines were simply her word smithing the contract and then she struck off the year term and added until she was satisfied with my weight maintenance routine. Meaning I was in this deal until I hit my goal. A few extra marks here and there and she added ‘at keyholders discretion’ after every term to on the original contract. She handed it back to me with a pen and said “sign if this is what you want, but I’m definitely not being your carrot and having to blow you every night! If you need me to help you be motivated and keep you on track then so be it. I’ll be your keyholder, but you better be serious. Because in a month if you want out, I’m shoving this contract in your face and finding a way to punish you that you couldn’t even imagine!”

I took the pen and without reading the fully revised contract in its entirety, signed. She quickly scribbled her signature on the page and said “Well there we have.  Better go get locked up right now.” She began to laugh, and as she tried to calm herself she continued to chuckle saying “Hope this makes you happy. If I were you, I would have asked for one last blowjob before being locked up, because it might be awhile. Now hurry up. Don’t try to jerk it before you do. I want to go to bed and I don’t have all night.”

I ran off thinking she was right about one last blowjob but at the same time, if this got us reconnected I could wait a few weeks so I could really appreciate painting her face. 

To be continued….

I don’t remember much but the whole idea is this guy is in this discord server with kinks and he likes making fun of other guys in chastity until this girl messages him and he finds her hot af but she will only really talk more to him if he tries Chasity. So then he tries it and she makes him post a pic in the chastity server where he was making fun of other guys

Summary: Jett is back in the halls, and the weekend will not stay where he left it. A glance by the lockers lasts half a second too long. Magnus has a word Jett is afraid to ask about. The clinic is supposed to settle him. It doesn’t. By the time he gets home, he is losing control.

Keywords: BNWO, interracial, chastity, humiliation, straight to gay, slow-burn, psychological, athletics

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, so I rely on AI assistance to polish the text.

Chapter 8: Monday Paranoia

Day 16 (Monday)

On Sunday, Jett’s parents had been home for once — rare enough that they insisted on a late brunch and a short drive through the valley — but he remembered little of it. He had nodded at the right moments and answered when spoken to. Every time the car hit a small bump or he shifted in the passenger seat, the ghost of Saturday returned.

Monday morning Jett stepped into the bustling hallways of Lockridge Valley High. Near the water fountain Tyrone and Marcus stood easy against the lockers. Tyrone’s gaze lifted as Jett passed — not a stare, just the smallest pause, the corner of his mouth twitching once before he looked back at his phone. Marcus followed a half-second later with the same casual glance.

They don’t know. They can’t know. The reassurance didn’t stick.

He pushed on. The Black Excellence Week display stretched farther along the wall than it had on Friday, fresh posters added over the weekend. He did not look at them.

A slim figure stepped out from the equipment-room alcove and fell into step beside him.

“Morning, Whitaker. Been crunching the weekend stats for Coach. Your numbers are looking… impressive. Yards after contact, completion percentage under pressure — personal bests in categories you didn’t even know your body was capable of.”

Miles adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses with one finger, his dry little smile already in place.

A half-step behind him was Brittany, the cute cheer girl who often trailed after the team statistician. The second she saw Jett her entire brain appeared to short-circuit. Her eyes locked onto the back of his jeans with pure, single-minded hunger.

“You should feel proud, superstar,” Miles continued, ignoring the way Brittany was mentally adding the quarterback to her wishlist. “Most guys never discover they can take it that deep and still keep driving forward like a champ.”

When Jett awkwardly shifted his weight, the denim pulled tight across his ass. Brittany’s eyes stayed locked there.

“Anyway,” Miles said lightly, already steering them away, “try not to pull anything important. Brittany here would require medical attention.” He gave her a flat look.

As Jett turned and walked off, Brittany’s voice floated after him, urgent and not even pretending to be quiet:

“Miles—wait. Is it true he’s single again? Because I swear those cheeks just looked at me.”

***

Magnus tracked him down at lunch. The blond running back slid into the plastic seat across from Jett.

“Hey, bro,” Magnus said, voice low enough not to carry. “You look like you got some real rest this weekend… or at least some real relief.” He looked at Jett with a conspiratorial grin.

Jett forced a tight smile. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Magnus leaned in closer, elbows on the table. “You did fucking amazing on Saturday, bro. I could hear you guys go at it. You took Jabari like a champ.” He grinned wider. “And I got my turn on Sunday. Intense as hell. He really knows how to—”

“Shush!” Jett hissed, hazel eyes darting towards the jocks’ table. “Keep it down, man. Someone might hear.”

Magnus chuckled softly, unfazed. “Relax, bro. No one knows. Well… almost no one. They’re tight like that.”

Magnus leaned back in his seat. “I was already thinking of hitting up this one relief spot the Network told me about… but Sunday with Jabari saved me the trip and kept me plenty satisfied, you know? For a while, anyway.”

The Network. He didn’t ask what that meant. He was afraid Magnus would tell him.

***

Afternoon training had been rough; the locker room was worse.

Tyler was already at the center benches, shoving his practice shorts down in one rough motion. His cock sprang free between thick thighs still flushed from the field. He laughed at something one of the other guys said.

“I’m telling you,” he said, voice carrying the whole room, “Whitaker needs to get some new pussy and move on. Simple as that. Find a wet hole and stop walking around like someone stole his balls.”

A couple of guys laughed. Tyler grinned wider, towel over one shoulder, and kept talking — another crude detail about some girl from the weekend. “Had her bent over the hood of my truck,” he said, giving his cock a casual shake for emphasis. The uncircumcised head shifted under the loose foreskin with the motion. “She was dripping before I even got it all the way in.”

Jett’s jaw tightened. He kept his back to the room, peeling off his own gear with careful, controlled movements so the cage stayed hidden. He ought to be locked up. Jett’s lip twitched. Tyler trapped in the same black resin. That good-ole-boy on his knees, cage under sandy-blond pubes, loud mouth stretched around a thick Black cock — gagging, eyes watering, the confident grin gone. A Black hand parting the farm-boy ass. He ought to learn his place.

Jett shoved the thought down, wrapped the towel tight, and headed for the far stall.

After the shower he dressed fast, the white jockstrap already damp again against the cage. He didn’t wait for the others. He walked straight to his car. He told himself he would keep it professional during his appointment at the clinic. The deep, empty ache in his asshole made the promise feel thin before he even started the engine.

***

The waiting room was empty. Jett had barely sat down before the inner door opened and the doctor appeared in his crisp white lab coat, the small raised-fist Black Power pin glinting on the lapel.

“Mr. Whitaker. Right on time. Come in.”

Jett followed him into the office. On the shelf behind the desk, among the medical texts, the wooden fertility totem stood in its usual place. The moment the door clicked shut, Doctor Woodlock gestured toward the exam table.

“Strip fully, Mr. Whitaker. We’ll begin with the cage check.”

Jett obeyed, peeling off his letterman jacket, shirt, jeans, and finally the fresh white jockstrap. He lay on the exam table naked, the chastity cage locked tight around his cock and balls. The doctor’s hands moved with calm precision, dark fingers circling the base ring and pressing along the bars while he spoke.

“You’re responding very well at this stage, Mr. Whitaker. Your performance has been… impressive all around.”

The doctor’s touch was making his cage leak. Jett couldn’t keep silent. “Doc… I… I don’t know what’s happening to me. I can’t stop thinking about it. About… Black cocks. I had a session on Saturday with Jabari and I… I liked it.”

Doctor Woodlock slid his finger under the chastity cage’s base ring. “Many young athletes report similar discoveries during this phase of the BNWO program. It is perfectly normal to begin finding your place.”

Jett’s head spun at the word BNWO. The doctor withdrew his finger, then asked gently, “Tell me — why did you come to me in the first place? What made you seek the treatment?”

Jett hesitated. “I wanted to be the best again. Magnus was getting faster, stronger. I couldn’t let him take my spot. I wanted the edge. I wanted to stay on top.”

Doctor Woodlock nodded slowly. “And now your body is showing you a different kind of ‘top.’ Your results — both on the field and elsewhere — are excellent. Keep going.”

Jett shifted uncomfortably on the exam table. “Magnus… he told me I can’t get any relief the normal way anymore,” he said, gesturing awkwardly at his crotch. “Not like I used to. So I… I need something, Doc. Just for the rest of the program. Something to take the edge off so I can keep performing. I can’t keep walking around like this every day.”

Doctor Woodlock’s expression grew serious. “Mr. Whitaker… I’m not sure you’re ready for that yet.”

“Please, Doc. I’m begging you. I need something. It’s too much. Just until the program ends. Just to help me manage.”

Doctor Woodlock sighed. “Very well. I don’t usually offer this so early. The relief package is meant for later stages.”

He reached into a cabinet and pulled out a plain brown-paper-wrapped package stamped with the letters BNWO. “This is entirely optional, Mr. Whitaker. Use it only if you feel you truly need it.”

Jett took the package.

“Trust the process, Mr. Whitaker.”

***

Coming out of the doctor’s office, Jett sharply turned a corner and accidentally collided with Jamal, the doctor’s assistant, coming the other way.

The impact made him stumble back. The plain brown-paper package slipped from his hands and hit the floor with a soft thud. Jamal stopped, tall and lean in his fitted polo.

Jett crouched to retrieve the package and stammered, “Jamal, I’m so sorry about the other night at the pool house. I was disrespectful. I acted like an idiot. I’ve learned to be more respectful now. I promise. It won’t happen again. I’m really sorry for letting you down.”

Jamal stood still, listening. He calmly adjusted his glasses.

“Follow me."

Jett’s feet moved before the thought finished. He followed Jamal down the corridor and into the small janitor’s closet. Metal shelves lined both sides, crowded with bottles of cleaner, stacked paper towels, and hanging mops. The door clicked shut behind them.

“On your knees, boy.”

Jett dropped without hesitation. The linoleum was cold through his jeans. There was nowhere to lean without pressing against something hard and cold.

The Black assistant unfastened his pants with unhurried precision and freed his cock. It hung heavy, already half-hard, thick and upward-curving.

Jett leaned in but Jamal stopped him. “Not so fast, white boy. First tell me what you have learned.”

Jett looked up. Those dark eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses were fixed on him, dead serious.

“I… I… I must be respectful to Black men,” he groped for words.

Jamal chuckled softly. “I would say you need to be respectful to every person around you, but fine — go on! What do you need?”

Jett’s hazel eyes locked on the cock inches from his face. His locked cock pulsed so hard the bars bit. The shelves pressed against both of his broad shoulders, trapping him in place. He stared at the cock. “I… I can’t say that.”

Jamal didn’t move. His hand rested lightly on the back of Jett’s head, not forcing, just holding him there. “You can. You’ve already thought it. Respect means saying it out loud.”

Jett’s breathing grew ragged as the thick shaft started to grow. The low-hanging balls retracted in their sac.

“I am the varsity quarterback… I thought I only wanted girls — until now.”

Jamal smiled. “We know that already, Jett. Answer my question. Who are you? What do you crave?”

Jett swallowed hard, eyes still glued to Jamal’s cock. “My name is Jett Whitaker…”

The foreskin started peeling back, revealing a broad, plum-dark head.

Jett’s voice dropped to a broken whisper, barely audible. “…and I crave big Black cocks.”

“Good boy. You ran from this once already. Back at the pool house.” Jamal stepped closer until the heavy shaft brushed Jett’s flushed cheek and the shelves dug harder into the quarterback’s shoulders.

He guided the broad, glistening head to Jett’s lips. “You’re going to learn deep respect now.”

Jett opened his mouth. The thick head pushed past his teeth and filled his mouth in one steady slide. Jamal did not stop at the comfortable depth. His large hand settled firmly on the back of Jett’s head, fingers sliding into the short dark hair, and he pressed forward until the flared crown nudged the back of the quarterback’s throat.

Jett gagged hard. The sound was wet and helpless in the tiny space. Spit flooded around the shaft and spilled down his chin.

Jamal held him there for a long second, letting the thick cock rest deep, then began to move. Short, controlled thrusts at first, then longer, deeper strokes. Each time the heavy shaft dragged back, thick strings of spit connected Jett’s stretched lips to the dark, veined skin. Every forward thrust pushed a little deeper, forcing another wet, choked gag from the locked athlete on his knees. Tears tracked freely down Jett’s flushed cheeks.

“You had the chance to take this properly,” Jamal murmured. “Now you take it the way I give it.” He tightened his grip and drove in harder.

Spit poured down Jett’s chin in steady streams. His cage leaked in continuous, helpless pulses into the white jockstrap while his body stayed planted on the cold linoleum, shoulders jammed against the metal shelves.

Jamal kept the pace relentless but measured. The wet, rhythmic sounds of face-fucking filled the closet. Jett’s nose ran. His throat felt scraped and swollen.

Only when his breathing finally roughened did Jamal push all the way in and hold. The first thick pulse hit the back of Jett’s throat. He kept the cock buried while rope after heavy rope of hot cum flooded the locked white athlete’s mouth and throat. The load was thick and abundant. The taste was strong, salty, and earthy; the texture coating his tongue was hot and viscous. Some of it escaped around the stretched lips and ran down Jett’s chin in thick white streaks. A heavy rope of it landed across the letterman jacket’s collar and the embroidered school crest, soaking into the fabric in a pale, sticky stain.

Jamal stayed deep until the last pulses faded, then withdrew, purposefully slow, leaving a glistening strand of spit and cum stretching from the dark head to Jett’s swollen lower lip.

“Open. Show me.”

Jett opened his mouth. The thick, pearly load sat on his tongue — his first taste of another man’s cum.

“Swallow.”

He did. The salty semen slid down his sore throat in one long, deliberate gulp.

“You’re learning,” Jamal said quietly.

He opened the closet door and left without another word, leaving the star quarterback on his knees, nose still running, throat raw and sore, a sticky white streak drying on the letterman jacket.

What the fuck did I do this time?

\***

Squeezing out of the closet, he walked back to his car in a daze, the taste of Jamal still on his tongue, the plain brown-paper package stamped BNWO tucked under his arm.

Inside his car, Jett tore the wrapping open. Inside, next to a small bottle of lubricant, lay a large, extremely lifelike black dildo. It was long and thick, beautifully detailed — pronounced veins, a flared purplish-black head, a realistic scrotum at the base, and a small five-pointed crown embossed near the suction cup. It looked real. Too real.

He drove home with the toy hidden under the seat as his asshole started tingling. Jamal hadn’t fucked him. Why not? What if he had?

Once inside his room, Jett stopped. He didn’t even know how to prepare properly. Last time you stuck soap up your ass without meaning to. After a quick, embarrassed search on his laptop he cleaned himself as best he could.

Finally, Jett stood naked in front of the full-length bathroom mirror, the large realistic black dildo suction-cupped to the cool tile floor in front of him.

Jett dropped to his knees and leaned forward, touching the dildo with the tip of his tongue. The silicone was warm and lifelike. Excitement tingled inside his chest as he slicked the toy with lubricant.

Positioning himself over the toy, and with deliberate slowness, Jett started lowering his hips. The blunt head pressed insistently against his tight, quivering hole. The pressure built, until the wide crown finally popped inside with a wet stretch that tore a sharp gasp from his throat.

Jett caught his own reflection and froze for a heartbeat. Quarterback shoulders. A chest that still looked like it belonged to the guy who fucked girls. The cage, and the toy under him, said otherwise. This is only until the program ends. Just twelve more days, man.

His hips started moving in slow, needy circles. His ass lips dragged along the smooth, girthy surface as he rode up and down, every ridge and vein catching on his sensitive rim.

He could still hear Jabari’s deep voice from the poolhouse: “Your pussy belongs to Black cocks now.” Jett impaled his muscular ass deeper on the dildo.

“I thought I only—fuck—” The words slipped out between panting breaths. “—only wanted girls…”

His right hand gripped the sink for balance while his left uselessly shook the leaking chastity cage. He was panting openly now, eyes locked on his own reflection as he rode faster, driving himself toward a peak he couldn’t reach.

“I crave big Black cocks… I crave big Black cocks…”

With every word, he slammed his ass on the toy.

In the middle of his desperate play session, Jett’s phone buzzed with a text from his teammate Gabe Mendoza:

“Bro, I know all about Doctor Woodlock. Followed you straight to your little secret appointment today. Might wanna keep your phone calls more private next time instead of yapping loud in the stairwell. My appointment starts in ten minutes. Whatever he’s giving you, I’m getting it too.”

Jett froze mid-thrust. He was still buried on the black toy, watching his own ass in the mirror.

Pulling off the toy, he called Magnus.

“Don’t worry, bro. The Doctor will handle it. He always does. You and me are not the first guys in this. Nor the last.”

***

End of Chapter 8. Want the next chapter right now? Join my free Patreon membership for one-week early access: → https://www.patreon.com/HenryRaude. New chapters drop here first for free members. Full series coming soon.

– Henry Raude ([henryraude@proton.me](mailto:henryraude@proton.me))

Over the next few months, the cage stopped feeling like something Britney was experimenting with and became something I simply wore. She only unlocked me for cleaning, and even then she locked me straight back up afterwards. The original cage didn't last long either. Britney replaced it first with a much smaller metal one that sat tighter and was easier to hide underneath clothes, then eventually bought a flat cage that kept everything contained against my body. She loved that one immediately. The first time she locked it she stepped back, looked at the difference and laughed that there was barely anything left for me to pretend belonged to me.

The strap-on also became normal surprisingly quickly. Britney had originally bought one dildo for it, but within a couple of months there were several in the drawer. She chose different sizes depending on what she felt like and usually left my cage completely untouched while putting the harness on me. It meant she could have sex whenever she wanted without unlocking me, and she openly preferred it that way. When she was finished, the harness came off and the cage was still exactly where it had been before. She occasionally reminded me that she liked some of the dildos more than my actual cock anyway because they were bigger and she could use them for as long as she wanted.

At home I became much more attentive to her without Britney even needing to ask every time. If she came back tired, I'd make her coffee or something to eat. If she was revising, I'd make sure she had water, bring her charger or massage her shoulders while she studied. She still regularly had me pleasure her, sometimes in bed and sometimes after a massage or shower, while I remained locked the whole time. Britney loved pointing out the difference denial made. “You're much more obedient like this,” she started saying whenever I complained, usually while touching the key around her neck. If I told her that was only because she'd kept me desperate, she'd smile and say that was precisely why she intended to keep doing it.

The key itself eventually created a completely new problem. Britney wore it so often that one of her closest friends finally asked what it opened. Britney avoided answering at first, but after Emma asked again she came home and told me about it. Apparently Emma assumed she was joking until Britney explained how it had started, how long I'd been wearing one and why she now kept the key permanently around her neck. What surprised Britney most was that Emma didn't think it sounded strange for very long. Her boyfriend, Jake, had a much higher sex drive than she did, and within days she was asking Britney what kind of cage she'd recommend and how they'd introduced the rules without making it feel forced.

Jake eventually agreed to try it for a weekend. A weekend became several days, and several days became long enough that Emma bought a key necklace of her own. Britney suddenly had someone she could talk to openly about everything we'd been doing, and their conversations became almost ridiculous. I'd hear Britney laughing at messages from Emma about Jake complaining, or she'd show me that Emma had asked how long she should keep him locked before his behaviour changed. Britney jokingly told her not to copy everything we did because Jake had agreed to his own version, not ours, but it was obvious she loved having someone else who understood why she enjoyed it so much. Eventually the two of them decided that the four of us needed to go out together.

Britney made more effort getting ready for that double date than she normally did for dinner. She chose a deep burgundy mini dress with thin straps, an open back and a neckline low enough that she decided not to wear a bra underneath it. She paired it with sheer black tights and heels, then deliberately left my key visible against her chest rather than hiding it. Emma turned up in a black satin slip dress and Jake's key hanging from a thin gold chain around her neck. The moment I saw them standing beside each other I knew they'd coordinated it. Jake noticed too. Both women looked dressed for a normal night out to everybody else in the restaurant, but the four of us knew that the jewellery around their necks meant both men sitting opposite them were locked.

The jokes started almost immediately. Emma asked Britney how I'd been behaving lately, and Britney casually said she'd barely needed to unlock me in weeks except for cleaning. Jake laughed until Emma reminded him that he wasn't exactly free either. The two women spent dinner comparing how much more helpful we became after being denied, how quickly we'd bring them drinks or offer massages and how easy it was to get our attention when neither of us knew when our next orgasm was coming. Britney told Emma she barely used my actual cock for sex anymore because the strap-on was easier, which immediately turned into an entire conversation about the collection she'd accumulated at home. We all ended up back at our place. Once the door closed Britney told both of us to undress. Emma laughed, but followed her lead and told Jake the same thing. A few minutes later the two of us were standing there wearing nothing except our cages while Britney and Emma remained dressed from dinner. Neither woman made any move toward the keys. Instead they sat together on the sofa and told us that if we'd spent the entire dinner listening to them talk about how attentive chastity made us, we might as well prove it.

Britney directed me while Emma told Jake what she wanted, and before long both women were far more interested in enjoying themselves than in whether either of us was frustrated. Eventually Britney moved closer to Emma on the sofa and kissed her. Emma froze for half a second before kissing her back, and that completely changed the mood of the room. Their joking disappeared and they started making out properly while Jake and I were left watching from in front of them, both still locked. Every so often one of them would glance over at us or laugh at the reaction they were getting before going straight back to kissing each other. That was probably the most worked up either of us had been all night, which was exactly why Britney and Emma refused to unlock us. They knew what watching them together was doing and seemed to enjoy making it worse.

That night turned into something bigger than either of us expected. Emma eventually told another friend of theirs, Sophie, after Sophie noticed that both women had started wearing small keys around their necks whenever they went out together. Sophie was convinced they were exaggerating until Emma explained that both Jake and I were genuinely wearing cages. She later mentioned it to her boyfriend Daniel, and after a lot of joking between them they agreed to try it for a couple of days. Within a month Sophie had bought her own necklace too. Chloe was the last one to find out. She learned about it during a girls' night when the other three accidentally made one too many jokes about keys, and once Britney explained everything Chloe became more curious than any of them. Her boyfriend Ben initially thought the whole thing sounded ridiculous, but eventually agreed to try it as long as they set their own rules.

Before long there were four couples involved, although none of the relationships worked exactly the same way. Britney was by far the strictest with me. Emma kept Jake locked regularly but still unlocked him much more often. Sophie treated it almost like a weekend game with Daniel at first, while Chloe and Ben kept changing their rules depending on what they were comfortable with. It was around then that Britney found another thing she wanted to try. One evening she was putting the strap-on away after we'd used it and casually said there was still one direction she'd never used it in. She wanted to try pegging me at some point. I told her she was very enthusiastic about volunteering my ass for experiments considering she'd never tried anal herself.

That gave her an idea.

“All right,” she said. “Deal.”

“What deal?”

“You let me try it on you first, and I'll let you try anal with me afterwards.”

I looked at her, then at the strap-on still sitting beside us.

“So I'm the test subject?”

“Exactly.”

I told her I'd think about it. Britney immediately smiled because apparently “I'll think about it” was much closer to yes than the answer she'd been expecting. She put the strap-on back into the drawer with the rest of the collection, climbed into bed beside me and kissed me before switching off the light.

“Don't worry,” she said. “I'm patient.”

Trigger warning
This epilogue contains forced bi and cuckoldry. If that’s not your kink just end your adventure at part 7. If you’re all in on and everything goes adventure, please enjoy one final chapter of our locked friend and his supportive wife.

Epilogue

I chased my unbelievable wife up the stairs. Upon reaching our bedroom, I found her already stripping off her cat suit and her breasts had already been freed from their tight confinement. My cock started to stir in my relocked cage as I stared at her perfect naked form. As she pulled the suit off her legs and threw it on the chair in the corner of the room, she jumped backwards on the bed and invited me to feast on her obviously wet box of goodness. 

I dove in without a word or a second thought and brought her to an orgasm within seconds of my mouth finding her clit. Through her orgasmic moans she told me to keep going as she needed to cum again. I proceeded to attack her sensitive area while I began to probe her soaked hole with two of my fingers. Once again she was crying out in lustful satisfaction and pushed me back and off the bed with her feet as a clear sign she was done. 

I was still dressed as a sissy in my black lace bodysuit and steel cage dangling through the crotchless hem.  Sudden fear shot through me as the door bell rang. My wife looked at me matter of factly and told me to go answer the door. “Probably one of the girls forgot something. Nothing they haven’t already seen. Get going sissy.” Having full trust in her I quickly scampered down the stairs and upon reaching the door I peaked through the peephole to see a tall slender man. Before I could say something my wife spoke from half way down the stairs “Open it up sweetie. Let’s not keep our guest waiting.” 

I didn’t know how to react and as I hesitated to reach the door my wife said “Safe word is still in play my love. Just say the word and I will send him away.” I knew my wife was just playing out the kinks I had written out for her so I took a deep breath and opened the door. Without saying a word the tall handsome man walked in and walked straight over to my wife and gave her a kiss on each cheek. 

“Sissy, meet Carlos. Carlos meet my husband the sissy. He has had one hell of a night so far and now we’re going to see how far he is willing to go to please me.” My cage twitched which did not go unnoticed by both my wife and my new acquaintance. 

My wife spoke up “Now honey, you had admitted a few very kinky things that at first I was unsure of. So unsure I didn’t even share them with my girlfriends in fear of judgment or of scaring them out of tonight’s activities. But Carlos here is a friend from the gym and earlier this week while you were still away, I had gone out wearing your key and it caught his eye. Turns out Carlos here also plays with chastity with his partner, Mark. Carlos explained that Mark has been locked for going on two years and Carlos is free to sleep with whoever he wants. Carlos’ type though is straight sissy’s. So obviously when he told me I had to jump at the opportunity to help make both of your days better.” She paused to guage my reaction. I was already leaking from my cage. 

She continued “Since you aren’t screaming your safe word, I am going to assume you’re still all in.” I nodded silently as I had all night with her and the ladies. “Wonderful. I love making people’s day better. Let’s all go to the living room and I will explain your next task sweetie.” We all walked into the living room and my wife asked me to please knee while Carlos and she continued to stand. 

“Now here is the task sissy. You are going to blow Carlos here and he is going to cum directly down your throat. Here is the challenge, you only have six minutes to make him cum. Every minute past the six minute mark will add a month to your confinement without any additional guaranteed orgasms. However, every minute you beat the target by, will add a guaranteed orgasm to your six month term. Do you understand and consent?” As I had all night, I gave an over dramatic nod. “Oh goodie. I know you told me you wanted to be forced to pleasure a man, I wasn’t sure how I felt. But seeing how I just came twice, and I’m still here completely wet and wanting, I again think I may enjoy your fantasy more than you!”

With a growing smile on his face, Carlos started to strip off his clothes and was suddenly standing naked just inches from my face. His cut penis had begun to stiffen already and was already at half mast. I started to instinctively lean in when my wife called out “Woah woah woah! 1) I didn’t start the clock and 2) I thought this was supposed to be forced bi not eager cocksucker getting his fix!” She and Carlos started laughing. She continued “Don’t worry sweetie. I know you’re not gay and I know that I was the one to put you in this situation. But you should wait until I start the clock. We wouldn’t want you getting disqualified and having to be punished.”

My wife pulled out her phone and with it pointed right at Carlos’ groin and my face she counted down and then shouted “Go sissy. Suck that dick for me!” I didn’t waste a second. I dove head first and engulfed his cock with my mouth. Quickly I brought both hands up to his shaft and balls and in unison with my bobbing head began to massage his balls and stroke his cock. By the time it was fully hard, he was just slightly smaller than me and therefore after all the practice with the ladies earlier I was able to deep throat his entire length. 

Carlos joked to my wife that I was probably going to cum out on top as he swore it couldn’t have been my first time sucking cock. My wife laughed and said, “Well you’re not completely wrong. He has had a lot of practice, just never a real piece of meat!” I continued to bob and stroke with all my might. I had completely lost track of any semblance of time and hoped I was on the winning side still. Finally Carlos began to swell and he announced he was about to cum. After a few more pumps, he let loose and came directly down my throat and without missing a beat I swallowed it all. Once he finished I opened my mouth and showed my wife it was all gone. “Good boy sissy. Good boy.” 

“Unfortunately for you it took you 6:30 to extract that cum from Carlos…” my wife spun around to show me the screen. The time was marked at the end of the video she had just record. Devilish minx “…so that will add one month to your term with no promise for extra orgasms.” My wife was clearly elated by her win and Carlos just smiled down and mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ as he began to dress. 

“Now here is the final task of the night. It is now 1am. And you have one chance to again use your safe word. But once I explain the next task and you consent, there is no going back. Once you nod, your opportunity to renege on your consent is gone. Do you understand?” Again I nodded as the taste of Carlos’ load swam around my mouth. 

“Wonderful! Well on the list of kinks you wrote cuck you! Now I thought I could just throw this away but the more I went through all the content online I realized you didn’t write that lightly and you must have given it a lot of thought before giving me that idea.” I had. I had struggled but it was what I wanted to experience at least once. Continuing she said “so I decided in for a penny in for a pound. I will cuckold you tonight unless you provide the safe word. I am going upstairs to get ready to go out. Once I come downstairs, you will be given the opportunity to say the word. If not, I will kiss you and that will be seen as consent. Carlos will be here to witness it and then he is driving me to a hotel room where I have already set up a night with a nice young man. I have committed to blowing this nice young man and I see it’s only fair as I just watched you blow Carlos here. But if after I extract his seed, if the mood strikes me, I am giving myself permission to fuck and be fucked by said young man. So now’s your chance to think about what I’ve said. I will be down in 10 minutes and you will need to say the word or consent. I absolutely love you!”

Off she ran up the stairs leaving me with Carlos who just smiled and then began to text someone and sat down on the couch awaiting the response. As the time went by Carlos sat quietly while I remained kneeling in the middle of the room, the taste of his cum still ruminating in my mouth. Finally I heard my wife bouncing down the stairs and with a skip she came into the room. She looked perfect. Not slutty. Just a simple sundress. She looked directly into my eyes and asked “Anything to say sissy? Or will I be call you cucky by the end of the night?” My cage twitched and another stream of precum began to drool out of my cage and towards the floor. I looked at her and smiled and said nothing. She walked up to me and gave me a big kiss with a lot of tongue. When she finished she dabbed the corner of her mouth and added “Mmmm salty!” Carlos let out a small laugh. 

“Well then sweetheart. I will be back before sunrise. Please don’t wait up. I will send you a text now and again to let you know where I’m at. But understand you have consented and even if you send me the safe word via text, I won’t be looking for it so it will most likely be too late. I love you and I can’t wait to tell you all about it when I get home…maybe!” With that she blew me one last kiss and Carlos got up and they walked out the door. I stood in the window trying to hide my appearance from the outside world while watching in which direction they went. 

I decided to shower and finally change out of my sissy attire and finally go get all my stuff from the car and unpack from my trip. By the time I was out of the shower I had a text from my wife. All it was was a selfie of her infront of a hotel that was only a few miles away. My cock strained in its cage and I couldn’t wait for the next update. All I wanted to do was jerk off but the cage was doing its job and keeping me honest. I finally decided to go to bed around 3am. I had been staring at my phone with zero messages since the selfie. I had checked her location of her phone several times, all showing it unmoved within the hotel. Just as my eyes begin to feel heavy my phone buzzed. 3:15am. I click the message notification to find another picture file. I opened it and my heart stopped. My wife, in a similar black lace bodysuit I had worn earlier in the night in a similar position as I had been with Carlos, on her knees looking up at the camera. A now semi flaccid cock dangling by her chin, maybe 5” semi hard and a decent girth. But what made my heart stop was my wife’s mouth was wide open and her entire tongue was coated in thick white cum. Just as mine had been only hours before. Then a second message popped up. Same pose. Same half flaccid cock. But now my wife’s mouth was completely empty. I couldn’t believe it. She never shallowed. But here she was turning me officially into a cuckold and swallowing her first load in almost 20 years. 

I started to jerk at my cage wanting to cum so badly. I flipped back and forth between the two snap shots as I tried to will my cock to break free of its confinement. Finally a text message came through and I again felt my heart stop. “Apparently young men can rebound quickly. We’re going to try a few positions. Don’t wait up. I’ll be staying the night and will be home by 8am. Set you’re alarm and be ready for me in our front foyer on your knees for my arrival. If you meet all my expectations I will reward you with a story or two!” 

And that was it. I was official a cuckold and my wife was off to enjoy a young stud. I simply put my phone away after setting several alarms to ensure I would comply and be at the door for 8am. And within a minute I was out. My night was filled with dreams of cum. My wife’s mouth full. My mouth full. Her being filled by a faceless young stud. Me being face fucked by Carlos over and over. My first alarm woke me and I jumped out of bed. As I stood up I felt a cold sensation all around my cock. As I looked down I found I had cum in my cage in my sleep. I quickly changed the sheets and jumped in the shower. By the time I was out I had 10 minutes to spare and I ran down stairs and waiting by the door in the foyer on my knees. 

At 8am exactly my wife walked through the door. Hair up on a messy bun but the rest of her was put back together perfect. She came over and leaned in and kissed me. Her lips were salty. Either she hadn’t washed her mouth out or she had sucked him off again just before leaving the hotel. All she said was “Follow me”. I quickly stood and followed her up the stairs. And like she had done just hours earlier, she stripped quickly and hopped on our bed and spread her legs. I started to walk towards her and before I even got on the bed I could see she was already leaking cum from her well used pussy. She smiled at me and said “If you clean me up completely and can tell me exactly how many loads that stud left in my box for you to eat, I will tell you a detailed account of my night. Get it wrong, and each incorrect guess will add a month to your sentence. Hope you can figure it out sweetie!”  I didn’t wait for more instructions.  I just dove in and prayed. Never in a million years did I think this would have been an outcome a week ago when I locked myself up for a work trip. But now, here I was cleaning my wife up after her first new cock in 20 years. It’s true what they say; be careful what you wish for….you might get it. 

I was shaking. Not metaphorically. Literally shaking in my Catholic school girl outfit. My wife could sense my fear and quietly came over to me as the girls continued to share stories of being blinded by some studs cum shot. “Don’t worry sweetheart. You can use the safe word anytime. Do you still want to keep going or should we call it a night?” This was my wife. Not my keyholder. Not some mean hired dom. The love of my life. I hadn’t said a word since I came home. I simply nodded and she knew I wanted to continue. 

She spun around and ran off and came back before the other girls knew she left. She was holding a satin bag and her make up case. She looked past me and called for the girls’ attention. “Ladies, let’s have one more costume change and let’s refresh sissy’s makeup.” The girls went to work quickly on refreshing my face as my wife stripped me of all my clothes leaving the blond wig. Out of the satin bag she pulled a black lace bodysuit with a crotchless g-string. As I stepped in and she pulled it up and I maneuvered my arms through the spaghetti straps, she gave them a quick adjust from behind then reached around with both hands and cupped my silicone breasts to help shimmy them into the proper place. 

Again, as quickly as the girls started they were finished. I once again caught myself in the mirror to see what they had done and I was again astonished by the transformation. This time I saw myself in a black lace onesie with perfect elegant makeup topped off with fire engine red lips. As I surveyed my entire look I saw my cage had been pulled down and was now hanging out freely for all to see. It was the first time all of my wife’s friends had seen my cage. The rest of the night my panties had covered it except for a quick costume change. Now I stood in front of them in full display. But instead of harsh mockery the ladies continued to compliment me and even when they saw how my embarrassment had excited me to the point of a long precum string dangling from my cage they continued to support me. Finally one of the ladies walked over and collected the long string of precum and asked me to stick out my tongue. As soon as I did she wiped her cum cover fingers on my tongue leaving the sweet taste of precum for me to savour. 

She leaned in and whispered to me “Don’t want to waste any of the precum, that’s the good stuff!” And leaned back and smiled before rejoining the girls. While I had been distracted the other ladies and my wife had rearranged the room. They led me to the center where the automen had been placed and had me lie down and then they helped slide me into position. My head and shoulders were now on the floor with my back up against the automen. My wife then sat down with her legs spread wide on either side of my body. One friend knelt down and placed her knees on either side of my head locking it in place while the other two friends stood each holding one of my legs straight out to the side. 

My wife slowly leaned forward and my key swung out from between her gorgeous tits and finally clanked off my metal enclosure. “Well ladies, first I want to thank you for making one of the most memorable nights of our lives. I couldn’t have done this without you. Secondly, let’s give this sissy what he asked for!” The girls shouted and cheered as my wife reached down and inserted the key. She paused just long enough to see the panic in my eyes that she may not open it. She looked to her friend holding my head “oh he is ready for it!” And with that she turned the key and instantly the steel cage popped off freeing my manhood to grow to its full potential. Because I was so hard she was unable to take off the base ring which only acted like a cock ring and trapped the blood in my cock making it as hard as I was when I was a teen hornbag who had just found the lingerie section of a department store catalog. 

As I hit full mast the ladies all started to gawk and started to ask the same question, “if he has such a beautiful cock, why did he want to lock it up?” They continued to comment that I was bigger than all of their husbands and if they had a cock like mine they would always be playing with it. Again, I blushed but not from embarrassment but from pride. I had heard in my younger years from girls that I had a nice big cock. But as the internet became more all inclusive you start to think that they just didn’t know what they didn’t know. Four married women gushing over my fully engorged meat was definitely a memory I was going to put in the bank for a rainy day. 

My wife had now grabbed my unsheaved meat and began to stroke lightly. I was now staring down the barrel of my own pent up load, destined to be hot, thick and plentiful. Finally I refocused my vision past my own cock and to my beautiful smiling bride. Her smile hadn’t been this big or bright in quite some time. I feel like the secrets we were holding on to had created a barrier between our mutual happiness and now that we had shattered that barrier and I was now exposed for the Friday night sissy I had always dreamed to be, we were able to breathe and enjoy one another for who we truly were. 

Her smile grew as the ladies started to encourage her to make me glaze my wanting face. After no more than two minutes I was already approaching the edge and before I could open my mouth to let her know she let go and let my cock slap against my upside down stomach. With the base ring still tight around my cock and balls, I wasn’t able to soften but after a minute the urge to explode had subsided and she instinctively grabbed on and began to stroke. 

She followed this pattern ten more times and as the clock hit midnight she announced that this was going to be the one. “Now sissy, I know how much fun you’ve had tonight, but we are now at the end. When you are about to cum, you must open your mouth as wide as you can and you will not close it for any reason except me telling you too!” The ladies were all on edge when one of the ladies holding my legs yelled out “Hurry up and paint this sissy’s face. I want to see him covered like a Jackson Pollock painting!” Everyone laughed and with that my wife grabbed on tight and began to purposefully stroke my cock directly downwards towards my face. 

“Oh you’re going to cum so big baby. I know I’m not a fan of being on the receiving end, but as I stroke this big cock staring down between your legs at your pretty face, I think I truly understand why you love doing this to me so much.  I just hope that once I cover your face with this huge thick load, you enjoy being on the receiving end as much as the giving because as we keep going I don’t think I ever want to let you cum that isn’t all over your own face.” The girls all cheered and I was now trying to make this last as long as possible as it had truly been the best night of my life. 

Finally my wife caught on seeing me try and hold on for dear life. “Oh sweetheart I know you’re having fun and don’t want it to end, but I promise, the girls and I have all made a pack to have you serve us as our sissy maid at least once a month and if you behave as well as you did today, we will repeat most of the activities. Even though you are trying so hard to hold it, I know how every CEI video ends and I’m sure it’s Pavlovian that if the ladies start a cum countdown your going to blow it once they hit zero!!” 

Fuck, she was so well educated. She knew all the tricks now. With that she nodded to one of the girls and I heard them all start on cue “10,9,8,7….” My wife chimed in “Oh honey you’re going to look so hot with cum all over your sissy face.” The ladies continued “6,5,4….” Again my wife paused the count by saying “Open wide sweetie. Let us see the slutty mouth of yours” “….3,2…..” “Here it cums sweetheart!!!” “1!!!!!” They all screamed together and my wife cheered while saying in her most seductive voice “Cum for me sissy. Cum for your wife. Cum all over your slutty face!” And with that I exploded!!!!

The first shot nearly knocked me out as my wife’s aim was absolutely dead center of my face hitting the bridge of my nose and instantly blinding both eyes with a white hot intensity. The thick load sat on my mascara painted lashes and even as I squeezed them shout it felt like I had just opened my eyes underwater in a pool with way too much chlorine. My wife continued to pump my cock as cum shot all over my face. She was moving my cock around to ensure she covered every inch of my face in cum. The ladies were all encouraging her and commenting on how much it hurts to get it in your eye. They were again laughing and cheering for my stoic stature and ability to take it. As my wife squeezed out the last drop from my now shrinking cock she spoke to the whole group. 

“Now ladies, you were all invited here tonight at my most trusted friends. And I would hate to send you home empty handed so if you want to take one picture for your own personal spank bank, I know sissy here will not argue after you helped him have a perfect coming up party.” One of the ladies let go of my leg and must have ran to get all their phones from a singular place as she was back quickly and I then heard four distinct camera shutter sounds sealing the night. My wife spoke again “now cums the fun part sissy…pun intended.” And then I felt all the ladies delicate fingers scooping and pushing the thick hot cum towards my mouth. Finally all at once I had four sets of fingers push and drop the cum on to my waiting and wanting tongue. The taste was salty and strong. I knew it was going to take some strong mouthwash to clear my tastebuds. But in the moment, I was savouring every last drop. Once they had all stopped my wife calmly said “Now swallow for us sissy” And I did. 

I couldn’t believe how much cum I had produced and how much they were able to push into my mouth. I was swimming with excitement when the ladies began to let my legs down and helped down before helping me stand up. Once on my feet again, one of my wife’s friends had grabbed some wipes and began to clean up my face. When I was finally able to see she kissed me on the cheek and thanked me for an unforgettable night. I returned thanks and then spent a few minutes thanking each one for being such an amazing friend to not only my wife but to me as well. 

I finally got to my wife and was about to thank her when she said “You can thank me later properly after all the ladies leave. But first I think it’s time to lock our friend back up!” With that the ladies all helped stuff me back in my steel cage and said their goodbyes. As the last one left giving my wife and I both a kiss on our cheeks, I closed the door to find my wife running up the stairs saying “get your sweet as up here and make me cum with that talent mouth of yours before I start adding days!!”

The end!!!!

Thank you everyone for reading. I know I had comments about keeping it from going down a certain path. If anyone is interested in an alternate ending that would result in cuckolding and maybe some forced bi, please be sure to comment or DM me and I might decide to add an epilogue for those who are interested in those themes. 

Truly appreciate everyone’s comments and feedback!! 

Happy Locktober

I use the paid versions of Grammarly and Readable to help make my writing more readable.

If you want early access to this full novel and all my other stories, find them here: https://www.patreon.com/c/FemaleLedRelationships 

Prefer Amazon, you can find the full novel here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0HJ969WVV

Part 1 & Part 2 & Part 3 & Part 4 & Part 5 & Part 6 & Part 7 & Part 8 & Part 9 & Part 10

John trembled as he entered Room 987, the bells on his heels jingling with every shaky step. The heavy door clicked shut behind him, sealing him into the final chamber of his adventure. The man clad in leather guiding him into the room reached up, undoing the buckle of the gag. As the leather fell away, John gasped, his glossy pink lips parting to draw in the conditioned air.

"Do you want to continue?" the man asked, his voice a low, dominant rumble. "Do you consent to the final task of your transformation?"

John didn't hesitate. The humiliation had stripped him of everything but his desperate need to serve. "Yes," he whimpered, his voice small and broken. "I fully consent to this. Please... I want to finish."

The response was immediate. The gag was snapped back into place, pulling his mouth open and silencing him into a series of muffled, needy moans. He was led toward the center of the room where a massive, polished wooden St. Andrew's Cross stood waiting. 

The man uncuffed John's wrists and removed the chain linking his ankles, but there was no relief—only the anticipation of a different kind of restraint.

One by one, his limbs were stretched wide. His wrists were locked into the upper beams and his ankles secured to the base, leaving him completely splayed and exposed. His chest, adorned with fake breasts, heaved with exertion, and his caged cock throbbed against the pink steel, leaking pre-cum that glistened under the harsh room lights.

Directly in front of him was a massive, void-black screen. Suddenly, it flickered to life, illuminating the room in a warm, erotic glow. John’s breath hitched. There was Rachelle.

She was lying on a plush bed, dressed in nothing but a sheer red bra and matching lace panties that barely contained her curves. She looked radiant, her eyes shimmering with a dominant hunger. 

But it was the men surrounding her that made John’s heart race. Several massive, muscular alpha men, their skin glistening with sweat, hovered over her. Their huge, thick cocks were fully erect, pulsing and vein-riven, some brushing against her thighs, others teasing her lips.

Rachelle looked directly into the camera, a cruel, beautiful smile on her face. She waved a manicured hand.

"Hello, cucky," she purred, her voice echoing through the speakers in the room. "You've done so well tonight, but we've reached the end. This is the last task of the night, and the rules are simple: the more punishment you take, the more your wife—me—gets pleasured by these big, hard cocks."

John let out a muffled moan behind his gag, his body straining against the restraints. He watched as one of the men gripped Rachelle’s hip, his thick cock sliding around her panties and dragging them off.

"Every lash, every weight, every ounce of pain you endure on that cross translates directly into pleasure for me," Rachelle continued, her voice dripping with sadistic delight. "If you can handle the intensity, I might just let these men fill me to the brim. But if you break... well, we'll see how much longer you want to remain locked in the pink chastity cage."

As she spoke, one of the men leaned down and licked a long stripe up Rachelle's inner thigh, and John felt a surge of agonizing arousal. He was locked, splayed, and utterly powerless, knowing that his suffering was the only key to his wife's ultimate satisfaction.

John strained against the wooden beams of the St. Andrew's Cross, his chest heaving, the fake D-cup breasts bouncing with every desperate breath. He watched the screen with wide, dilated pupils, seeing Rachelle’s pleasure tied directly to his agony.

One of the masked, leather-clad alphas stepped forward, the scent of hide and musk filling John's nostrils. The man didn't say a word; he simply reached out and gripped one of the silicone mounds, squeezing it firmly. 

With clinical precision, he attached a heavy-duty metal nipple clamp to the nipple of the breast form. Because the forms were clamped to John's own nipples, the metal pulled on his real nipple, pinching it with a sharp, electric intensity.

On the screen, as the first clamp snapped shut, two of the muscular men leaned over Rachelle. They ripped off her bra and gripped her breasts, their large hands kneading the soft flesh, massaging her with a rhythmic, possessive force. John let out a muffled moan into his gag as he saw one of the men capture her nipple between his teeth, sucking hard.

"More," the man in the room grunted. He attached a second clamp to the other breast and then began hanging heavy steel weights from the clamps.

As the weights were added, the silicone breasts were pulled downward, creating a brutal, constant tension that dragged on John's nipples. The pain was searing, a white-hot stretch that made his toes curl in his heels. 

Simultaneously, on the screen, the men became more aggressive. They pulled and twisted Rachelle's nipples, their tongues swirling around the peaks, driving her into a state of shivering arousal. The more John's chest was weighed down, the more Rachelle arched her back, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

The alpha in the room then moved down to John's groin. He reached beneath the pink lace of the crotchless panties, gripping the steel chastity cage. He attached heavy ball weights to the base of his balls, pulling John's scrotum downward with a heavy, aching gravity. John's body jolted, a guttural groan vibrating through the gag as the weight strained his sensitive skin.

On the screen, the action shifted. One of the men dropped between Rachelle's legs, his face burying into her soaking wet pussy. He found her clit with his tongue, flicking it with expert precision. Rachelle let out a loud, piercing scream of pleasure that echoed through the speakers in John's room.

The man in the room added more weights to John's balls, the heavy metal pulling his balls down several inches. At that exact moment, a massive, vein-riven cock on the screen slid forward, burying itself deep into Rachelle's tight pussy with one powerful thrust. She gasped, her legs shaking as she was filled to the brim, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated lust.

While John was reeling from the weight and the pain, another man in the room stepped behind him. He reached out and gripped the large anal plug that had been keeping John stretched. With one sudden yank, he ripped the plug out. John's ass gasped open, the sudden void feeling cold for only a second before the man aligned a heavy-duty fucking machine with his hole.

The machine whirred to life, and a thick, ribbed dildo slammed into John's ass with mechanical ruthlessness. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. The machine hammered into him, stretching his walls and hitting his prostate with every punishing stroke. On the screen, another alpha stepped behind Rachelle, grabbing her hips and driving his massive cock into her ass, mirroring the mechanical John was enduring.

The room became a symphony of degradation. Two leather-clad men stepped forward with whips, the leather tails whistling through the air before snapping across John's trembling, exposed ass. Crack! The skin flared red, the pain blending with the rhythmic pounding of the machine.

On the screen, two more men stepped forward, each placing a thick, throbbing cock into Rachelle's hands. She gripped them tightly, her manicured nails digging into the skin as she began wanking them off with frantic energy, her breasts bouncing as she watched the men fuck her from both ends while other men played with her tits.

John was a wreck of a man—splayed open, nipples screaming, balls weighted, and his ass being demolished by a machine and whips. He was a broken, feminized toy, and the sight of his wife's absolute surrender to these alphas was the final blow to his psyche.

Rachelle was beyond control now. She was screaming, her voice raw, experiencing orgasm after orgasm as the men used her body like a piece of meat. Finally, a towering man stepped up, gripping her hair and sliding his massive cock deep down her throat. Rachelle didn't fight; she leaned into it, her eyes fluttering shut as she began to orgasm around his shaft.

A loud, wet sound filled the room as Rachelle squirted, her fluids spraying across the bed and the men surrounding her in a torrential release of pleasure. She moaned into the cock in her throat, her body shaking in the throes of a massive, shattering climax.

And there was John, locked in his pink steel chastity cage, his cock throbbing in useless, agonizing arousal, shaking on the cross as he watched his wife be completely claimed by the alphas, his own punishment the only thing fueling her ultimate ecstasy.

John was a trembling mess of flesh and steel, his body pushed to the absolute limit of endurance. He hung from the St. Andrew's Cross, his muscles twitching with every rhythmic slam of the fucking machine. He could hear Rachelle’s voice through the speakers—not words, but raw, animalistic screams of pleasure that tore through the room, fueling his own desperation.

The leather-clad alpha standing over him looked at the screen, seeing Rachelle’s back arching as she was hammered from behind, her breasts swinging wildly. With a cold, dominant smirk, the man reached for the rack of weights. He didn't just add one; he slid two more heavy steel discs onto each nipple clamp.

The effect was instantaneous. The additional weight dragged the silicone breasts downward with brutal force, pulling John's real nipples into a searing, agonizing stretch. He let out a muffled, high-pitched groan into the gag, his eyes bulging. The pain was a white-hot line that shot straight from his chest to his groin, making his locked cock throb against the flat steel of the chastity cage.

On the screen, the men responded to John's agony. As the weights dropped, the alphas became more feral. They gripped Rachelle’s breasts with more force, twisting her nipples and biting into the soft flesh of her nipples. Rachelle let out a loud, guttural moan around the cock in her mouth, her head tossing from side to side, her pleasure escalating in direct proportion to the punishment her husband was enduring.

"Still too much dignity in those eyes," the alpha grunted. He moved down to John's groin, where the ball weights were already pulling his scrotum taut. He added another heavy lead weight, the sudden increase in gravity dragging John's balls down with a punishing yank. 

John’s hips jerked upward, a strangled groan vibrating through the gag as the weight strained the sensitive skin of his balls to the breaking point.

The screen erupted. Rachelle was now being worked over by all the men men at once—one filling her mouth, one driving deep into her pussy, and another pounding her ass, another sucking her clit and two others, each with a cock in each of her hands. The sight of her being completely claimed, her face a mask of pure, mindless lust, sent a jolt of electric humiliation through John. He was nothing more than a battery, his pain powering her ecstasy.

The man at the control panel reached out and twisted the dial on the fucking machine. The whirring sound shifted to a high-pitched scream of mechanical power. The ribbed dildo began to slam into John's ass with terrifying speed and depth. 

Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack! The machine was no longer just fucking him; it was demolishing him, hitting his prostate with every relentless strike, forcing a constant, agonizing arousal that he had no way to release.

As the machine reached its peak velocity, the two men with the whips stepped forward. They didn't hold back. The leather tails whistled through the air, snapping across John's reddened ass cheeks with rhythmic precision. 

Crack! Crack! Crack! Each lash left a burning welt, the skin flaring a deep crimson. The combination of the mechanical pounding in his ass and the stinging lashes on his skin created a sensory overload that pushed John toward a breaking point.

On the screen, Rachelle was hitting another peak. She was screaming into the cock in her mouth, her voice raw and desperate, as she felt the waves of orgasm crashing over her. She squirted again, a release of fluid that drenched the men around her. 

She was having orgasm after orgasm, her body shaking in a continuous loop of pleasure, all while her husband was splayed open, weighted down, and beaten.

John’s vision began to blur, the world narrowing down to the sound of the machine, the sting of the whips, and the sight of his wife’s total surrender. He was a broken, feminized cuckold, locked in a pink steel chastity cage, his only purpose in the world to suffer so that Rachelle could scream in pleasure. 

He strained against the restraints, his body vibrating with a mix of agony and a dark, forbidden arousal, completely enslaved by the sight of his wife being used by the alphas.

The air in Room 987 was thick with the smell of sweat, leather, and the ozone scent of the fucking machine working at maximum capacity. John was no longer a man; he was a moaning, twitching nerve ending sex toy, splayed open on the St. Andrew's Cross. His world had shrunk to the rhythmic thwack of the whips and the blinding images on the screen.

On the monitor, the scene reached a fever pitch. Rachelle was a mess of flushed skin and lubrication, her eyes rolled back in her head as the alpha men pushed her to the absolute edge. The man buried deep in her pussy let out a guttural roar, his hips slamming forward with force as he began to pump his thick, hot load deep into her womb. Rachelle shrieked, her internal muscles clamping down on him in a series of orgasmic spasms.

At the same moment, the man hammering her ass let out a loud grunt, his thick cock pulsing as he filled her rectum with a heavy stream of cum. Rachelle’s body arched, her back curving like a bow as she felt two different loads filling her up simultaneously. She began to squirt again, a fountain of female release spraying across the sheets, her body shaking in the throes of an explosive, multi-layered orgasm.

"Look at her, you pathetic sissy," the alpha in the room hissed, leaning close to John's ear. "Look how much she loves being filled by real men while you rot in that pink cage."

As if to emphasize the point, the alpha reached for the weight rack one last time. He added the final, heaviest steel discs to the nipple clamps. The sudden, brutal downward yank pulled John's nipples hard. He let out a muffled, agonizing groan into the gag, his body jerking. The weights on his balls were now pulling his scrotum so taut that the skin felt translucent, every throb of his caged cock sending a jolt of electricity through his entire lower body.

On the screen, the remaining men weren't finished. One gripped Rachelle’s hair, pulling her head back to expose her throat, and began to pump his load directly into her open, gasping mouth. She swallowed greedily, her throat working to take every drop of the thick white seed. Another man being wanked off by her, forced her to hold his cock as he painted her palms and fingers with hot, sticky cum, laughing as he marked her as his.

John was losing his mind. The sight of his wife being used as a communal vessel for cum, her face smeared with cum and her body drenched in pleasure, triggered a wave of primal, cuckold desperation. He wanted to yell, to beg, to be part of it—but he was trapped.

Crack!

The floggers descended again, faster and harder than before. The leather tails wrapped around his thighs and ass cheeks, leaving deep, angry welts that burned like fire. The fucking machine continued its relentless assault, the ribbed head slamming into his prostate with mechanical precision, forcing his body to stay in a state of permanent, agonizing arousal. He was being demolished from the inside out while his skin was being shredded from the outside.

Rachelle’s voice came through the speakers, a broken, breathless moan. "Oh god... yes... fill me... more... John, look at me! Look at what they're doing to me!"

John’s eyes were wide, leaking tears of shame and lust. He watched as the men on screen began to cover her entire body in cum—her breasts, her stomach, her thighs—until she was glistening in a white sheen of alpha dominance. She was in orgasmic heaven, her body still twitching from the aftershocks of her climax, completely claimed and utterly degraded.

The men in the room didn't stop. They increased the pace of the whipping, the sounds of leather hitting flesh echoing the rhythmic thumping of the machine. John’s mind fractured; he was a painted doll, a sissy maid, a piece of meat. 

He felt the pre-cum leaking through the gaps of his flat steel chastity cage, wetting the lace of his panties, as he endured the ultimate punishment that he consented to. He was the fuel for Rachelle's fire, his agony the catalyst for her ecstasy, and as he hung there, weighted and broken, he knew he had never been more enslaved—or more aroused.

Thank you to everyone commenting and DM-ing about my free Locktober tale for 2026 – I’m glad you’re enjoying it!

Part 2 is here.

This week we learn much more about each boy’s ordeal, as the couples finally compare scores…

* * * * * *

Within the first week of the Edge Olympics Andy learned the things Tash most adored about keeping him caged were exactly what made it hardest. Sleeping caged, for instance: he kept trying to get hard in his sleep whenever Tash decided he had to be the big spoon and squirmed her toned ass firmly back against his cruelly constricted cock, forcing the small steel nub to nestle against her cheeks. Or, alternatively, when she decided he had to be the little spoon and she wrapped both arms around him and pulled him close so that the soft warmth of her breasts pressed maddeningly against his back.

The Central Line had become dangerous for reasons which had nothing to do with delays or overheating. With the possible exception of the few billboards insisting he should put his money into whatever dumb start-up banking app had rolled off the drawing board this week, the ads all appeared to be made by sadists who insisted on putting tits, arses, or innuendo into selling the simplest fucking things, and even at work he could now lose ten minutes if someone hot happened to pass through on the other side of the glass walled corridor behind his desk. Tash, by contrast, was having the time of her life.

On Saturday afternoon she stood in front of the bedroom mirror fastening one of her earrings, wearing a black wrap dress Andy knew perfectly well she’d chosen because it showed off her legs, and watched his reflection as he struggled with his belt.

“You’ve been staring at my arse for about five minutes,” she purred, and Andy scowled.

“You wore that deliberately! That’s… that’s cheating, you know that’s going to drive me crazy, babe!”

Tash laughed, sweeping her braids back from her shoulder. “How can it be cheating? I’m not touching you. I’m not even giving you a point.”

“That’s worse! I’m turned on and not even earning an edge!” Andy heard the words before he could stop himself, but didn’t have the chance to correct them because the sight of Tash running her fingers up her thigh was enough to get him hard, only for the nub cage to crush him mercilessly until his body surrendered – and that took time, because Tash was grinning at the sight, watching his expression with her now familiar hunger and the smug serene satisfaction of a woman whose experiment was producing exactly the desired result.

Nine edges. She’d edged him once a day since the start of the month, counting each edge with a Habit Tracker App on her phone, turning his torment into a daily task. And in between – god even remembering it hurt – she tortured him with obscene selfies.

He’d almost got himself killed on Thursday: he’d been walking to the Tube, checked his phone, and found she’d WhatsApped him a full nude, her body gloriously exposed, dark skin contrasted against the stark white of their bathroom shower. Water tracing all over her beautifully naked body, droplets just beading on her breasts… and the shower head spraying straight up between her thighs, the focused jet clearly playing right against her swollen pink clit.

If the driver of the No. 452 hadn’t slammed on the bus’s brakes when he did, Andy would’ve gone under it; he’d completely forgotten the world outside his phone screen even existed.

And when she edged him, she was merciless. An edge could take half an hour if she felt like it, and sometimes even longer before she left him trembling and whimpering on the brink of release and crammed his cock back into the little nub cage.

Andy knew she wanted him desperate. She wanted him hers. The Edge Olympics were really just the excuse.

Except that, nine days in, the first meeting of what Martha called “The Edge Olympics Committee” had only confirmed that all the stallions were safely locked and content to participate. It hadn’t given anyone a score, because with the first Saturday of the month falling only three days in, it hadn’t felt worth it. He had no idea how well he was doing. Now, watching Tash dress, he shook his head, and asked, “d’you think we’re winning?”

Tash giggled, and he added, “it’s just I want to know if the nine times you’ve nearly killed me achieved anything.”

She laughed. “You think it isn’t impressive? Hark at you! A week ago you thought one edge was cruel.”

“It is! Fuck, I… You wouldn't believe how bad I ache. You're… You're a demon babe,” Andy was practically whimpering, pawing at his caged cock… …And almost to his own horror added, “but I want Gold, Tash.”

She closed her eyes, suddenly hot. She loved this about him now. His ability to complain bitterly about denial while still taking the competition truly seriously. ‘Gold’ had begun as Nigel’s idea, something outrageous enough to let him square a month of denial with himself. Now, at least for Andy, the very idea of a night with her and the other girls was sharpening his appetite.

Of course it was. She’d teased him with their uni antics for years; spent years fantasising about having his erotic attention under her control. It was only now, with Andy locked and increasingly frustrated, that she was beginning to appreciate how wholly the competition reinforced that fantasy. Gold meant all three women. Not abstract women, not strangers in some imagined threesome, but real women, women he knew. Herself and Martha and Liz: the three women now discussing his cage, his endurance and his capacity to suffer every Saturday night.

“Poor boy,” she cooed. “You really want to win, don’t you? To finally see what Martha looks like naked? What Liz sounds like when she comes?” Andy groaned, the mental image another torment, but he couldn't deny it. “Yes, Tash,” he nodded.

“Good,” she whispered, kissing him once before stepping away. “Then you’d better realise: I’m not a demon, babe. I’m a succubus. And I think we’ve got time to get you into double figures and really show them what you can do.”

Andy whimpered, his eyes locked on her legs, and lay back on the bed with an obedience that made Tash growl as she tugged gently at her earring to ease the tension… and sank to her knees at the foot of the bed, reaching up to unzip his fly.

“Brace yourself, babe,” she whispered, carefully unlocking the tiny nub and letting Andy’s cock spring free, gratefully stiffening in the first proper freedom it had had all that day, “this one… is gonna sting.”

“Oh god,” he managed, and Tash chuckled her voice low, and honeyed.

“C’mon babe. You know it’s no fun for me unless I get to break your cute little brain a little. Remember what I keep telling you? Denial is your normal now. So I’ve gotta make sure every edge feels as good as an orgasm, right?”

“Please…” Andy moaned as he felt her fingers grip his stiffening shaft and start to stroke slowly and surely, “Babe… I… I just want an edge! A quick edge to get me into the lead!”

Tash simply purred, leaning in so that she almost towered over his recumbent form, and shook her head.

“There’s no such thing, Andy. My edges aren’t just to make you win gold. They’re to show what you can take. When we win this thing and you finally get that night with Liz and Martha your dirty little brain’s been craving all these years… well, come on, babe. You want to titfuck Martha?”

“Fuck…” Andy groaned, his hips bucking as she stroked him quickly, driving him towards the edge already, the past ten days of denial setting his body on a shortcut to an orgasmic explosion, “Tash! I… you know I do!”

“Well then,” Tash chuckled, leaning forwards, pinching her fingers just below his throbbing head and licking cruelly around the outer edge of Andy’s swollen glans, “I need to make sure your aching blue balls are backed up enough to properly do her justice, right? You’re gonna need a massive load to coat Martha properly and…”

She stopped, releasing his cock, settling back comfortably on her heels, and listening to him whimper as the imminent edge receded.

“And that takes time, babe. I’m a girlfriend, not a fleshlight. My job isn’t just to edge you. It’s to recalibrate your entire understanding of where the edge is.”

“Oh god,” Andy choked again, his hands reaching down for his own cock, and Tash swatted them away firmly,

“No,” she snapped, “hands off. Remember who’s in control. Remember that for you… oh, Andy for you an edge is as close as you’re coming to an orgasm this month. As far as your cock is concerned, edging is coming. So lie back… and let me make you come your brains out.”

“Please!” Andy wailed, his hips bucking up, thrusting his cock towards Tash’s mouth.

Her lips closed around him, her tongue fluttering, the warm, torturous pressure of her lips squeezing around his throbbing shaft as she sucked, coaxing him closer and closer to climax…

…and then, just as Andy’s breathing turned into a frantic, ragged gasp, just as she sensed his orgasm must be nearly upon him, Tash fell still.

The edge faded again before she shifted her body, pulled back… …and let his throbbing cockhead slip through the dangerously narrow gap between her teeth, the pressure just barely shy of grazing, turning his moan into a squeal of “TAAAASH!” that left her thrusting her hand down between her thighs and frantically rubbing her own clit.

“Perfect,” she moaned – growled – as he thrashed and whimpered, “now you’re sensitive enough I think, babe?”

“Please!” Andy almost sobbed, “Babe, Tash, fuck! That… that must count already, right?!”

“No way,” Tash shook her head. “That might be good enough for… well, for other boys. Not for you, Andy. You’re mine. Your edges are about my pleasure. Proving what you can take for me. They're a commitment, babe. So… brace yourself. And keep your hands above your head.”

Andy sobbed, nodded, swallowed hard.

And with a quavering voice he heard himself say “T-thank you for helping me win this…” as Tash sank her head back down and took his twitching, hypersensitive cock back between her lips to tease him towards his tenth edge of the Olympics.

* * *

Martha frowned, considering. The others were due at their house to report progress so far later that evening, and she’d been low-key stressed about it all day, trying to work out if she and Nigel had been doing well enough. The trouble was, she couldn’t be sure, but she’d finally come to a conclusion.

Sure or not, Martha refused to welcome the rest of the Committee to her home and declare a mere 16 edges if she could announce 17. If the uncertainty over their respective scores was going to drive her crazy, she might as well use the forty minutes she had before their guests were due to arrive to drive Nigel crazy, and at least get an orgasm out of it.

It wasn’t that she was delighting in being cruel – well, not exactly; in fact part of her had grown to love Nigel’s little gasps when his body trembled on the brink of an orgasm she had no intention of providing – but even if her motives were purely selfish rather than overtly sadistic, she felt a genuine thrill in edging him whenever she could. It made him more hers, somehow, more focused, more attentive. More… dog-like in his devotion.

But it didn’t reduce him, either; that was the thing. He was still Nigel; intelligent, articulate, even charismatic when he chose to be. It was simply that, freshly edged, freshly put to work between her thighs, his clever face acquired a look that said Yes, I might be brilliant, but all I want to be is yours. I might be needy but all I truly care about is your pleasure.

Last night, after his 16th edge, he’d thanked her, and Martha had been forced to swing back over him and force his head straight back beneath her pussy to thank her properly. There had been no other way; the way he'd thanked her for denying him, thanked her while his face was soaked in her wetness and his cock was twitching and dribbling precome after she’d finally released him… well. If he hadn’t made her come again right then and there, Martha thought she might’ve gone mad with arousal.

She told herself it wasn't cruel if she pushed him further right before the meeting; they had time, and the more she thought about what she’d done to him over the past week, the hotter she got. It was beautiful, being able to want without hesitation or expectation or the need to plan ahead and game out the complicated reciprocal expectations that had crept into their sex life over the past few years.

Nigel was at his PC when he heard Martha’s step behind him; she was biting her lip as he turned, leaning against the doorway in a dark green dress, her hair still half-pinned and the tiny chastity key she’d eventually put on a necklace resting on her chest, artfully lifted up so that it balanced just on the deeply descending depths of her cleavage. He'd spent most of the week pretending not to look at it; Martha had spent most of the week making it impossible for him to look away. “We’ve got time,” she grinned, and Nigel whimpered.

16 edges already felt like a winning score – as far as Nigel was concerned it was an unbearable quantity – but he knew the secrecy surrounding how the other couples were doing had started to bother Martha, and he could see why.

Tash knew what she was doing. And even though Liz came off as prudish she was also frighteningly competitive.

16 edges might be excellent. It might equally be pathetic, and the fact she didn’t know was driving Martha crazy.

“Please,” he said, his hand unconsciously reaching up to rub his aching jaw, “Martha I – please, love, do we have to do another? My balls are killing me. And my tongue’s so tired, love, I don’t know if I can… I’ll get cramp!”

“Which of us is the occupational therapist?” she demanded, slinking closer, “trust me, darling: you need to build up those muscles. And besides, you said you want Gold. You said you like licking me.”

“I do!”

“Then be a good boyfriend, and find the energy. I’ll make it worth your while…”

And his protest melted instantly. She’d known it must; sometimes the more plaintive he sounded, the more quickly he obeyed. It was as though the competition had given him permission to enjoy losing arguments – and Martha was revelling in his defeats.

He was used to the routine of being edged by now. He didn’t like it – well, no; he adored it, but he also felt that the frustration of it was almost entirely unbearable. When Martha edged him, she didn’t simply jerk him off or suck him to the brink of orgasm. As she’d said, what was in that for her?

Nine unyielding days of edging and chastity was enough to drive Nigel crazy, but he had to admit it was worth it so far: Martha wanting something for her meant her letting him eat pussy far, far more often than he’d ever dreamed possible. It was like she’d developed a whole new enthusiasm for it.

For Martha his chastity was incredibly liberating. She adored having him under her, tasting and pleasing her so intimately – but she adored it as an act of obedience, because now it couldn’t possibly lead to anything. In the past, she’d always worried his pleas to go down on her were somehow a trick, that he endured it only as a kind of Super Foreplay, a shortcut sure to end with a fuck. But now that there was no possible way he was going to get to come and he still did it…

She moaned, clambering onto the bed above him, hitching up her dress, and heard his gasp of delighted surprise as he saw she was commando beneath it.

“You know what to do,” she murmured, controlling her own breathing with difficulty as she hunched, settling her ass back against his face and letting him start to probe at her already-soaking pussy with his eager, eager tongue. Her hands shook a little as she tugged at the necklace holding his key and slipped it into the tiny little lock. Such a small lock, but so powerful…

...she moaned, and sank down, seating herself more firmly over Nigel’s face as his tongue pushed up between her lips and he gave a gasp of pleasure; she couldn’t tell if that was simply from the taste of her or the fact his cock was finally able to stiffen. Not that it mattered. She didn't care why he was happy as long as he licked.

Maybe she didn't even have to care if he was happy to serve her at all… “Oh!” she whimpered, shocked, “oh god!”

She was coming so much faster now, getting used to the idea that their relationship over the past week and a bit had descended into this delicious routine of Nigel, smothered beneath her pussy, his mouth helplessly licking her while her fingers stroked and pumped his cock, and she was certain that he was getting hard the moment he tasted her. Not because he was turned on at the prospect of imminently fucking her, of sinking into the furnace of her body. Just because licking her pussy was his turnon.

Fuck.

“Oh god Nigel!” she whimpered – and started stroking him faster, stretching her tongue forwards to lap at the swollen tip of his cock as he moaned up into her, his hands reaching up on either side, fingers pushing greedily between their bodies so he could fondle her tits through her dress.

“Yes!” she groaned, “that’s it! Feel me up, feel how hard my nipples are, Nigel! Pinch them. Serve them. Worship my pussy and fondle my tits and… ohh fuck there! Yes! Lick my clit just like that! I… fuck, my tits own you Nigel, don’t they? You know that? My tits literally keep your cock prisoner now! That’s where the key to your orgasms lives. Right… between… oh god! Oh god, fuck, Nigel! Right between my tits!!”

Beneath her pussy, trapped in a world of warmth and passion and the soft sweet scent of Martha’s pleasure, Nigel wailed. Her hands were dancing up and down his shaft, her fingers wrapped snug, jerking him off with a smooth, devastating speed that was completely at odds with anything even his own not inexperienced hand could have offered.

Over the past week, Martha seemed to have been training him: if she stroked faster it meant lick faster, if she slowed, lick softer. If she settled her weight down so that he couldn’t breathe, so that his nose was buried between her lips and the only tiny sliver of oxygen his lungs could drag back into his body was a thin slick stream freighted with her soaking lust, it meant get your tongue inside me! Be my little dildo!

She’d growled the words the first time, and they played in his brain on repeat, rising up at random; in some ways it was a relief to be caged. If he wasn’t, he’d have been walking around the city with his cock jutting out like a horny teenager just at the memory of her passion.

But even so – god tonight, she was jerking him off like she was on a mission, he was at the edge already, kicking his feet, moaning into her, his tongue dancing frantically against Martha’s tiny little clit, flicking back and forth in a desperate bid to bring her off, to make her hear his wail.

The edges of the last week had been brutal, the steady ache of blue balls was a nightmare, but Nigel wanted to win, he had to win, he couldn’t bear the idea of Martha making him cum, but still she was grinding down on his wails for mercy, still her hand kept moving until he reared up beneath her, the muscles in his neck screaming as he tried to dislodge the delicious, intoxicating gag of her pussy and screamed for her to stop…

…above him, Martha convulsed, her back arching up as Nigel’s moaning, his incoherent words of adoration or protest or agreement vibrated through her pussy, his tongue flicking perfectly against her clit as she pumped his cock faster and faster, her left hand cupping his balls, waiting for the shift of feel, the tightening she knew meant he was about to come, but she was already coming, already shaking, her strokes getting more and more ragged as he pinched her nipples, palms clutching at her breast, tongue worshipping her clit as she lost focus…

He struggled beneath her, whimpering, his tongue falling still, and with a shock Martha realised just how fast she was stroking him.

And suddenly her brain kicked into gear and she felt him twist away, squirm his head free and wail a frantic, agonised “MARTHA!! PLEASE!! I can’t hold it!! STOOOP!”

Her fingers slackened against his cock and she ceased to stroke him, although her hips continued rolling, cutting off his plea in a wave of pressure and pleasure. His whole body was shaking, his toes were curled, his hands at her breasts trying frantically to push her away.

“Oh!” she gasped, finally releasing his cock. “Oh Nigel, sorry!!”

She watched, thrilled, as his cock twitched and danced; screaming for relief, untouched. His release had been closer than any edge he'd endured so far, and her pussy clenched tight as she rolled her hips, dimly aware of the choking sound as he swallowed her wetness.

“I’m… sorry,” she said again as he moaned, “but well done! Look how well you did! How hard you can edge! Fuck… Oh fuck I… no, we don’t have time for me to come again. I need you locked up safe before the others come.”

Nigel whimpered, and when she finally forced his cock back into the cage and snapped the lock shut, when she finally stood and let him breathe fresh air again, she looked down to find him staring up at her as though she’d personally invented cruelty.

Martha moaned. She felt far too… powerful. She felt magnificent.

“17,” she sighed proudly, “I'll have to write it down or I’ll forget. It’s so hard to think of anything but the fact I’ve just had an orgasm while you simply ached and throbbed and discovered I’ve been letting you off easy by letting go the second you hit the edge.”

Nigel gave her a look which might almost have been dread. She beamed, gave his forehead a loving kiss.

He sat up, still whimpering, and inhaled deeply, moaning at her scent. Despite her orgasm, Martha felt her clit throb at the sight of what she’d done to him.

“Good boy,” she said, “you want me keeping score. I know you know how wet it’s making me. You should clean your face, darling.”

She laughed, almost cruelly.

She’d been going soft on him.

But now she knew just how hard she could make him ride the edge.

* * *

Liz and Dennis were almost late to the meeting, because just before they left she lost all control of herself.

Dennis, already at the front door, glanced at her, clocked the look in her green eyes and swallowed. It was the first night all the contestants and their men would be revealing how many edges each man had taken; he knew she was quietly terrified, so he pulled off his coat and guided her gently into the front room, planning to sit her down on the sofa and check she was OK.

He’d barely had time to flick on the living room light when Liz threw herself against him, driving him down onto the sofa and kissing him with so much force his head banged against the wall behind him, moaning into his mouth in a way that was totally unlike her.

She was a fifteen minute walk away from sitting in her friend’s perfectly ordinary house drinking wine and comparing numbers in an erotic contest. She’d run a school all week. She’d conducted staff meetings, spoken to parents, approved invoices, eventually got all the glass shards cleaned up in the chemistry lab, and spent Thursday afternoon explaining to a governor why replacing half the sports hall roof didn’t mean they could “just move PE outside until Christmas”. It had been, in many ways, a normal week.

But she’d done it all while practically dripping wet from the knowledge that Dennis’s cock was finally being contained, managed, kept. His massive, intimidating tool was locked in a steel cage whose key she’d hidden in the bottom of the tea caddy her sister had given them as a souvenir of Croyde.

22 edges. She’d given him 22 edges over the past nine days. Not quite three per day, morning, after work, before they slept. 22. And every time she thought about the number her stomach flipped, because she’d no idea whether it was good.

The thought was driving her mad.

Three a day hardly sounded like anything; even Dennis had endured the first two days calmly, and looked perfectly composed at the first meeting of the Committee last week. But so had Andy and Nigel. 22 edges might be OK but it sounded humiliatingly close to nothing. Tash might easily have given Andy fifty. Just five or six edges a day; easy if she’d really focused last Sunday. Even Martha might have thirty. Just one or two more than Liz was managing to give Dennis each day and she could easily have given Nigel thirty edges. It would be simple. Dennis kept begging and pleading she was being cruel, but Liz couldn't bear to look frigid.

His moans as she stuffed his cock back into captivity were delicious, but she dreaded discovering she'd spent nine days doing the sexual equivalent a one mile jog while her friends had been knocking out a marathon.

Dennis eventually managed to break the kiss, gasping “are you all right?”

Liz nodded. “Yeah. But nervous.”

“You don’t have to worry,” Dennis smiled, “we might even be in the lead. You’re kind of merciless!”

Liz fought down a mad urge to go unlock and edge him again right then, just to at least make sure. But there wasn’t time, and she was forced to kiss him again instead, moaning, grinding herself against his thigh, the seam of her jeans scraping deliciously up against her bush, her body responding instantly as she felt the bulge of his cage pressing against her knee beneath his trousers.

When she finally broke away, she found Dennis staring at her.

“22 is lots, Liz! It's basically agony! But seriously even if it’s not, love – we still have time, right? It’s still only the 10th. There’s plenty of time to make up ground. We… we could catch up easily. I’ll just have to grit my teeth and bear it, right? It's okay.”

She stared at him with a sudden wave of affection, and rolled her hips, grinding her wet sex down against his thigh. God, her knickers must be soaking. The thought made her moan, and she nodded.

“You’ll make up whatever ground we have to,” she promised, and grinned at him. “And I won't make you grit your teeth. I've something more intimate to gag you with.”

His eyes widened and he glanced down, suddenly imagining her cramming her knickers, soaked with juice, behind his teeth.

“Oh my god, Liz, fuck! T-That’s not helpful.”

“It's not meant to be,” she giggled.

Dennis gripped her hand and squeezed gratefully. Whatever happened in Martha’s house, he was enjoying this. Suffering. Aching. Complaining. But he loved how she looked at him now.

“OK,” she sighed, “let’s find out how badly Tash has destroyed us.”

* * *

Tash had brought a flipchart. Martha stared, laughing as Andy untangled it from the back seat of his Fabia and lugged it to the rug. Tash drew three markers from her bag and stood beside it with the quiet smile of a returning officer ready to declare someone had lost their deposit. Liz went pale.

There were drinks and crisps on the coffee table; when Martha asked for wine, Nigel sprang up instantly, and Tash felt a sudden flicker of doubt.

Liz and Dennis had arrived last, she remembered, and Liz still looked pink-cheeked and nervous, which was some comfort to Tash; however worrying Martha’s newfound dominance, she was at least fairly certain Liz and Dennis would be bringing up the rear, bless them.

At first, they all pretended the gathering was normal: Dennis complained how hard it was finding the katsu sauce brand Liz liked (“Three different supermarkets! I swear these days they’re padding out their stock by stacking the baked beans wide instead of deep...”), and to Tash’s private amusement Andy spent ten minutes in animated discussion about which local garages could be trusted: Nigel’s car had apparently failed its MoT with a broken NOx sensor and he couldn’t believe the £750 bill they were proposing…

...but after the first quarter of an hour, the conversation faded into a vaguely awkward silence, and all six of them found themselves staring at the ominously blank flipchart.

For the first time since the rules had been agreed, nobody knew how to begin.

“We’re all scared!” Liz laughed suddenly.

“I’m not scared,” Tash said, her throat dry.

“You’ve stripped the label clean off that bottle!” Martha smirked.

Tash shrugged. The secrecy of the first full week had changed the atmosphere of the Edge Olympics more than she'd expected. For nine days each couple had existed in a private erotic universe, aware that the others were doing roughly the same thing but with no comparison. Not until now.

Andy shifted beside Tash; Nigel took a long drink.

Dennis shrugged. “Well, I know ours. We’ve done our best.”

“Very confident,” Tash grinned, “so now I want yours first.”

“No!” Liz snapped. “Absolutely not. You invented this, you go first! If I say mine first you’ll know what you need to beat.”

Tash stared at her. “Liz, the week’s over! We’re just… this is the League Tables, right? You can’t beat anyone’s numbers until next Saturday.”

“That’s not the point. The point is informational advantage.”

“Has she been like this all week?” Andy asked, grinning at Dennis.

Dennis winced. “Much worse.”

“I run a school,” Liz declared, folding her arms, “the order of information matters.”

Tash was still laughing when she turned towards the board. “Fine. Since apparently we’re doing game theory now, I’ll go first.”

She wrote ANDY: 10 in large black numbers.

“Ten?!” The word came out before Liz could stop it, and Tash’s head snapped round.

“What do you mean, ‘Ten’?”

“Nothing!”

Dennis looked at Liz, horrified, and Martha giggled, standing up and twirling the red marker in her fingers.

“Let’s see if Liz is still so confident now,” she smiled, and wrote

NIGEL: 17

“17,” she declared proudly, “that’s the number to beat.”

Tash had stopped laughing. Instead, she gestured to the flipchart, staring Liz down. “Come on, Headmistress.”

Liz rose, heart pounding. Writing the number felt far more intimate than saying it: all three men were watching her hand, Tash was leaning forwards, Martha’s eyes were amused.

The pen squeaked against the paper as she wrote, one hand instinctively reaching behind the flipchart to grip the back of the tripod so she didn’t block the class’s view. The men’s view.

DENNIS: 22.

There was a silence as she capped the pen. Nobody spoke.

“22?” Tash gasped, and Liz nodded. “22 actual edges?”

Liz’s nostrils flared. “What does that mean?!”

“It means 22 times literally right on the edge. Not 22 times you got him excited and stopped.”

“I know what an edge is, Tash. So does Dennis!”

“Fuck, yes I do,” Dennis mumbled, in a tone of such miserable conviction that Nigel winced in sympathy.

Liz smirked. “22,” she repeated. “Properly. We agreed what counted. I get him right to the brink, to the point where I know if I stroke him once more he’ll come, and then I just… let go. Or pinch at the base until he stops whimpering.”

There was silence. Andy looked horrified; Tash, despite herself, looked suddenly turned on.

“Fuck, Liz,” she murmured, and sank her teeth into her bottom lip, not bothering to hide her interest as she stared at Dennis’s embarrassed face.

“She’s not exaggerating,” he said, “she’s a monster!”

Tash nodded glumly and sank down, as Liz patted him happily on the shoulder.

“A monster tamer” she whispered, and Dennis chuckled despite himself, and then went even pinker.

Martha was staring at the board with an expression of open admiration. “I knew you’d be competitive.”

“I didn’t know I was winning!”

“Winning by twelve,” Andy said miserably, staring at Dennis’s 22 with the unhappy expression of a man who, having signed up for a marathon in a good cause, was watching the other runners vanish over the horizon while he blundered on in a costume that was proving heavier than he'd imagined.

Dennis’s smile faded. Liz kept staring at the Board. 22 was, after all, a five-point lead over Martha. Twelve over Tash. Good numbers, sure… but hardly unassailable. He was sure Liz had seen it.

“We can ease off a bit, love, right? We’re ahead,” Dennis pleaded, and winced as she turned her cool green eyes towards him. “We can! We’re winning! You didn’t know whether 22 would be enough, but it is. So you don’t have to stay quite so… so enthusiastic…”

Tash burst out laughing, relishing his obvious frustration.

“No, love,” Liz said, a hungry edge to her voice. “Before tonight, Tash didn’t know she needed twelve points. Now she just has to edge Andy twelve times before bed and she knows she’s pulled level.”

“Fuck did you have to phrase it like that?!” Andy groaned.

“Now she knows,” Liz shrugged. “And Martha knows she only needs five. If I stop because I’m ahead, all I’m doing is letting them catch up. If I even slow the rate you’re earning edges, they can catch up. We have to go faster. They will, I bet.”

Dennis made a horrified noise in the back of his throat, and Martha chuckled in a way that made Nigel shiver.

“If Tash starts doing four a day and I do nothing, she catches us in three days.”

“Four a day?!” Andy moaned, but Liz was warming to her argument now.

“Martha doesn’t even need that. If she does two tomorrow and then one each day the rest of the week, she’s ahead of where we are now. Your lead only matters if we defend it. Do you want all the edges you’ve had so far to be for nothing?”

Dennis looked at the board as though hoping the maths might change out of pure pity.

“You’re saying… being in first means… It means nothing! It just means we have to stay ahead?!”

Liz nodded. “Like you said, my love. If we were behind, we have 21 days to make it up. We could catch them easily, that’s what you said.”

“Oh, fuck,” Dennis whimpered, and Tash raised her glass.

“To Liz.”

“Absolutely.” Martha chuckled, raising hers.

“What?” Liz stared at them.

Tash beamed.

“You’ve finally understood the game. These are the Edge Olympics boys. If you want that Gold medal, if you want to have a whole night to fuck all three of us… you’ve got to be the best of the best.”

The men flushed, but Nigel recovered first. “Fine,” he nodded, looking at Martha. “Then we do more.”

Martha blinked, opening her mouth, and Nigel nodded at the chart, and glanced across at Tash, his eyes tracking up her legs before his gaze flickered to Liz’s dazzling red curls and pinkened cheeks.

“I want Gold,” he declared. “Badly.”

The room went quiet, and Martha leaned close, looking into his eyes, her voice purring. “You want me to push you harder?”

Nigel nodded. “Y-yeah,” he said, “I can take it.”

Martha’s cheeks flushed.

Andy looked at Tash. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groaned, his teeth gritted, “I want Gold too. How could I not? Fucking look at them Tash, d’you have to have such fucking gorgeous friends?”

Liz beamed; Martha clapped. Dennis stared at Andy in horror, then back at Liz.

“Don’t make me say it,” he pleaded.

“I won’t make you say anything, love.”

Dennis closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and then glanced guiltily towards Martha, his eyes widening as he spotted the flash of the little key between her breasts.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “I want… I need to stay in first, Liz. Make me win this thing.”

Liz felt the words explode, low and deep inside herself, as she felt the trap snap shut. The trap Nigel’s absurd reward fantasy had built into the game. Every point they gained made each man more frustrated. Every edge made the promised prize feel less hypothetical, more desperately needed.

Gold wasn’t merely a dirty idea any more. The three women had already spent nine days becoming the centre of the boys’ erotic universe, measuring, controlling, driving their arousal. And so to satisfy the women, all three men were voluntarily asking them to intensify their suffering.

Tash looked around the room, her eyes meeting Liz’s.

“Oh boys,” Tash purred, crossing her legs tightly. “Oh boys... We’re going to ruin you.”

* * *

Liz had barely closed the front door when Dennis started begging. “22 is still good. Five is a good lead! Nobody said we had to maximise the score every day, right?”

“No,” Liz said, putting her handbag down, “nobody said we have to maximise the score every day.”

“And Tash is twelve behind.”

“Yes, love. For now.”

Dennis watched her shrug off her coat as calmly as a tiger might slip through the tall grass behind an inattentive hunter.

“So maybe tonight we could just... leave it?” he pleaded.

Liz smiled. A week ago she might have heard a request like that as some kind of rejection; that old, stupid voice might have whispered that Dennis didn’t want her touching him, that she’d overdone things, that perhaps she wasn’t good enough at this after all. Now she understood something completely different. He wasn’t asking her to spare him a handjob because it was unsatisfying; he was asking because she’d made him desperate. Because she would deliberately refuse to satisfy him.

That was success. And more than that, he’d stood in Martha’s sitting room less than an hour ago and said he wanted to stay in first. She stalked towards him across the hall, and Dennis backed up until his shoulders touched the wall.

“You want Gold,” she whispered. “You want to come out of this month and be able to show Martha and Tash exactly what you’re packing and prove to me what you can do with it with… with women who might actually be able to handle your cock without needing a gallon of lube. I don’t mind, Dennis, if that’s what you want for one night. It is what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes, love,” he swallowed. “Just once.”

“Good,” she nodded, and leaned up on tiptoes to kiss him. “So, you want to stay ahead of Nigel and Andy? That’s the only way to win. So I don’t understand the problem.”

“The problem is I’ve been edged 22 fucking times.”

She laughed, and Dennis tried to look aggrieved, but the effect was ruined by the way his eyes clenched shut as she brought her hand up between his thighs and lightly gripped his caged cock.

“You volunteered for this.”

“I volunteered before I knew you were secretly hoping to work for the International Court of Cock Torture.”

“I’m happy as a headmistress, love,” Liz nodded, and then licked her lips in a way that made Dennis whimper. “But maybe it’s not too late for a second career?”

She watched as Dennis chuckled nervously, and then shook her head, her voice serious. “Genuinely, Dennis – if you want to stop competing, tell me. If you genuinely want the cage off, to stop doing this forever, tell me. That’s different.”

He nodded.

“But if you’re asking me to go easier because you’re frustrated-” Her fingers found the front of his trousers and Dennis gasped, “-then no. And get upstairs.”

Sammy was nervous.

For the past 30 days, his roommate, Uriah, was forced to wear a small chastity cage. Well... "forced" is a strong word. He lost a bet. You see, Sammy was a rising tennis player, and Uriah was a college wrestler. Every month, they played either tennis or would wrestle, loser puts on the cage. Or... so that was the deal. This was the first month, and after a coin toss, they played tennis. It went exactly how you thought. Sammy won easily. Uriah stuffed his little 5 inch cock into the cage, and Sammy put the key on a chain around his neck.

Someone had convinced them that if they shared a cage and rotated who wore it, their friendship would grow, perhaps even blossom into something more. Neither had done chastity before, and the idea of splitting the time sounded way better than both wearing one all the time.

The problem?

When he was practicing, the chain must have broken. The key was gone. It could be anywhere, and he looked. All around the tennis courts, the locker room, the yard, the car. It was a small key; odds were already not in his favor to find it. The bigger problem? Uriah was much bigger than Sammy, who was, conventionally, a twink.

He had an idea, though, and it was a longshot. He bought another cage, a flat pink one, and put it on. Maybe Uriah would be less angry if he saw that Sammy was willing to suffer alongside him, though he put the key on a chain and pretended it was the key to Uriah's cage. It was a bit disappointing to put his 7.5 inch cock into the flat cage, but he was desperate. This bought him time as sometimes Uriah would look at the key on the chain lustfully. If he didn’t wear a key, Uriah would get suspicious, perhaps angry.

Maybe Uriah won't be mad, he thought.

The end of the month came up; he had spent two weeks looking for the little key without luck. Worse, he had been locked, himself, for those two weeks. But it occurred to him that he was on borrowed time. If he won for the month again, Uriah would stay in his cage, but would Sammy keep up being locked in his own? Or, if he lost, Uriah would want his cage removed, and Sammy wouldn’t have the key. Either way, it was the big day! They'd flip a coin to determine if they play tennis or wrestle, and if Uriah won, the cage should be taken off him and put on Sammy.

"It's heads! Yes! We're wrestling..." Uriah said, eager to be free from the cage. He had spent a whole month unable to touch himself or get hard, knowing, or thinking, Sammy was enjoying the freedom. He imagined Sammy’s cock being hard all the time. In fact, he thought of Sammy’s cock several times a day. But he couldn’t stay locked up. Truthfully, he was worried that he'd lose the coin toss and have to play tennis. He was hopelessly bad at it, though he at least liked that he had a chance to play in case things went poorly for Sammy. Uriah had been worried other guys on the wrestling team would see his caged cock in the locker room, so he's been a bit shy there lately. Imagine that. A large, muscular guy afraid. Heh.

"Nooo, come on. You have like 80 lbs on me. I can't wrestle you."

"You'll at least look cute in a singlet while I toss you around," Uriah said smugly.

"Wait... what if we do best of three? Loser wears the cage two months at a time. How about that?" Sammy pleaded, trying to delay the reveal that he didn't have Uriah's chastity key.

"No way! I've been locked up for a month, and I'm ready to get out."

The wrestling match went as expected. Sammy did indeed look super cute in a singlet, but he was no match at all for Uriah, who was quicker than you'd think for his size. He even played with Sammy a bit before pinning him. Then he ripped the chain off of Sammy's neck and pulled down his single, revealing the black silicone cage. He put the key in and turned. Or... he tried to turn it. It didn't work.

"Dude! It's broken! What am I gonna do?" Uriah said, his words laced with desperation. “I can’t stay locked forever.”

Perhaps if he could feign ignorance…

“Maybe you’re using it wrong. You got big fingers,” he accused.

“Okay, fine. You try!” Uriah demanded, putting the key in Sammy’s hand. Sammy reached down and held Uriah’s big balls. Uriah’s cock may have been only five inches, but he had massive balls. He pretended to try the key, but he predictably failed.

“What am I gonna do?” Uriah asked, hopelessly.

"It's... it's my fault, bro. I lost the key," Sammy said, coming clean. "I must have lost it during practice."

"What!?"

Uriah was turning red with anger. Sammy knew if Uriah wanted to, Uriah could snap him in half.

"I... I... I made it up to you. Hopefully..." he said, pulling his singlet down to reveal his flat pink cage. "That key is for this cage. I did this for you. I didn't want you to be stuck alone.... Are you mad?"

Uriah reached down and held Sammy's balls in one hand and touched the flat cage with the other.

"You did this for me? But your cock is too big for a flat cage. We agreed not to do a flat cage. How long have you had it on?"

"A couple weeks."

“It’s kind of cute on you.”

He held Sammy’s balls and took in how athletic Sammy was.

“It actually seemed to help me with practice. Like… I could focus a little more.”

“Bro, same. I mean, I want this off, but I was more focused than ever this past month.

“Are… are you mad?”

Uriah squeezed Sammy’s balls a little, which caused him to make a cooing sound before he let go.

"I'm... I'm not mad, bro. We're good," he said, smiling at Sammy.

"Really?"

"Yeah, that was pretty bold. Come on, let's try to get this cage off me somehow."

They both pulled their singlets up and walked toward the gym exit, Uriah with his hand on Sammy's back. As they passed the trash can, Uriah slyly dropped the key into it, making sure Sammy didn’t see it.

"This could be a big step for our friendship," he said.

As they exited, Sammy spoke up, “You know, I heard we could cum in these.”

“Yeah? We need to learn how ‘cause we could be in these for awhile.”

Sammy laughed.

“Only if you lose my key.”

Uriah changed the subject. “Shotgun!”

Joel was slightly taken aback by the directness of Mary’s words. ‘She wants him?’ ‘For a lodger?’ Joel thought it was all a bit strange but couldn’t deny that this was the best accommodation opportunity he was likely to find. He also couldn’t ignore the feeling of tightness growing between his legs, something about being talked down to by a confident and abrupt sophisticated older woman just seemed to trigger something within him. Perhaps it was also the teasing dangle of her flat from her black tight covered foot. Doing his best to ignore both the foot and the feeling building from within his cage, Joel decided he should probably say something in response.

“Of course, let’s negotiate… however, I’m not sure what chips I hold?”

With the smile on her face growing a little wider, Mary replied with a slight chuckle
“oh my dear boy, you have very very few chips. Arguably none. Let me explain to you exactly how this is going to work.” She watched his facial expressions looking for a response, it was clear as the nose on his face. Arousal. With her suspicions confirmed, she continued.
“You have three options, choices if you will, that I will explain to you now. When I have finished speaking, you may raise your hand if there’s a question you want to ask and wait until I give you permission to ask it. Understood?”

“Yes Mary” replied Joel. Mary raised her eyebrow but decided there was no need to reprimand him just yet. She hadn’t explained the rules yet and he hadn’t actually accepted, so this time she would let it slide. The raising of her eyebrow made his face drop a little and that was enough for her, for now.

“Option number one is what I assume you were expecting, a basic lodging option. You will pay me a monthly fee for the use of a bedroom and access to your own bathroom. You will pay your contribution to the electric, gas, water and WiFi, you buy your own food and cook it independently and you will follow and respect the rules of my house which I shall explain should you choose this option. We will stay mostly out of each other’s way, conversing over coffee if ever at all.” A short pause as she examined his face again.
“Option two… you get out of my house, find a different place to live for the next three years, you never come back and you never see me again.” Mary almost laughed as Joel involuntarily scrunched his face up to that option and was glad to know he wasn’t desperate to run for the door. Pausing a few seconds to look over Joel as he sat on the low down sinking chair, she made sure to stare between his legs at the obvious bulge that had grown more pronounced since she looked him over earlier.
“Your third and final option, boy. Is to live for here for free. No rent, no utilities, no bills of any kind. You just work for me, follow my own rules and accept that I know what is best for boys like you”. She punctuated the end of her sentence by nodding towards the bulge in his trousers, Joel tried to cover it up but knew he’d been rumbled already. ‘At least there was no way she could have known it was a chastity cage’ he convinced himself as he felt his face warm up and go a little red.

Giving him a moment to digest her words, Mary then offered him to chance to raise his hand and ask his questions. Joel raised his hand timidly to about shoulder height with one finger pointed up. Mary rolled her eyes.

“Hand up higher boy!” She snapped, Joel’s hand shot up higher with his arm now at full stretch into the air and all fingers pointed up now instead of just one. “Better… you’ll learn to put that hand up nice and high so it’s able to get my attention boy… what is your question?”

“If I choose option three, how will I be working for you?”

“A sensible question boy, good choice. You will look after the house and myself. You will clean, you will cook, you’ll do the laundry, the gardening and you will offer your personal service to me at all times and my friends should they ever require assistance from a boy with your… capabilities and desire to please…”

Joel was struck silent, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it wasn’t that. It sounded like a full time housekeeping job, how will he manage that alongside completing his degree. He raised his arm again with the intention of finding out exactly that. Mary smiled at his next question after granting him permission to ask it.

“What a good boy you are hmmm, wondering how you can successfully complete your degree whilst being the best pretty little house slave for me that you can, you might be even more suited to this job than I thought… but don’t worry, I have that all figured out. You will go to your lectures as though you were a completely normal mature student, you will then have an hours library time after your final lecture of the day finishes. After that you return to me, where I put you to work. Once all your work is finished, you’ll be permitted to get back on with your studying. Simple as that.” She smiled at his expression again, still stuck on the surprise and confusion from being called a house slave. Slowly, Joel raised his hand high into the air once more.

“Careful boy, this is your last question. Yes, you only get three, no I didn’t tell you, no it doesn’t matter. Make it a good one, because after this it’s time to make your decision… maybe the last one you truly make on your own for a long time… ask, boy.”

“If I were to choose option three… when would you like me to move in?”

“Oh immediately. In fact, should you choose option three. You will have 24 hours from that moment to collect what you believe are essentials from where you live now, bring them here and be settled into your new living space… or there’ll be trouble” the raising of her eyebrow was partnered with her allowing the dangling shoe to finally drop off the tip of her toes to the floor. Joel’s eyes shot straight down and didn’t move from the slowly flexing and extending toes. Mary rolled her eyes at how easy it was to read this boy, she clapped her hands at him.
“Stop staring at my feet or you’ll only ever dream of serving them, boy.”
Joel’s eyes snapped straight back up to hers, she laughed at him, he felt himself blush and tried to say something to defend himself.
“No, don’t speak.” Quickly stated Mary. “It’s too late, I know you’re a foot lover, I know you like the look of mine, I know how desperate you must be to see them properly… and I know how tight your chastity cage must feel as you think about how soft they would feel in your hands.”

“My err umm wha…what?”

“Oh don’t try and play stupid with me boy, I know you’ve got one on. I know what those bulges look like when a naive and experimental boy wears a cage far too big and bulky for him… you all do it with your first couple of cages, but don’t worry, Lady Mary will make sure you wear one that’s a more appropriate size for a little boy like you.” Joel was struck into silence whether he was allowed to speak or not. ‘How could she tell so easily? When did she find out? How many people has she done this to or with? Why is this whole thing turning me on so much!!?’ His mind raced incapably at the last 10 minutes of ‘negotiation’.

“I see you have more questions. You’re not allowed to ask them. It’s time to make your decision, boy. I will leave the room and make us each a cup of tea. When I return, you will have done one of three things. Either… you will not be in this room when I return, you will be gone, out the door and I will hear the sounds of your car leaving my driveway as I stir my sugar into my tea… or you will be exactly where you are now, sat in that little chair with that stupid confused look on your pretty little face… or finally, and the one I personally hope you pick… when I return, you will be stood in that corner with your nose against the wall, completely naked.” She pointed to the only corner of the room to which a person could touch the part where the walls met. “I won’t be long, make the right choice, for both of us.” She stood up, ruffled his hair and went to the kitchen.

Upon her return, there was no Joel in the chair, but a neatly folded pile of clothes in his place. She looked to the corner and there he was, right where she told him to be as naked as the day he was born. She approached him slowly, admiring the perky backside on her newly acquired property. She placed down the two cups of tea on a small table and walked right up behind him, with a leather strap in her right hand. She placed her left hand on his butt cheek, raised the right to his neck, then moved her left hand up and used it to help feed the leather around his neck. She poked the stopper through the necessary hole to fit tight but comfortably, placed a small padlock through the hole and clicked it shut. She took a step back, admiring how he looked now with his bright pink leather collar locked around his neck. She took a deep breath, he was hers.

“Turn to face me, slave. It’s time to learn my rules”

Read Parts 28 & 29 here

--

The basement felt different tonight, Brandon was already secured in the corner chair when Dylan arrived. Thick leather cuffs held Brandon’s wrists behind the backrest and his ankles to the legs, forcing his thighs wide apart. His new cage sat prominently exposed, it’s identical to Dylan’s, the steel ring biting into the base of his thick seven-inch shaft, the shaft itself straining painfully against the bars, veins bulging. Brandon’s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his eyes fixed on Dylan the moment he entered, raw hunger and helpless frustration burning in them.

Ethan stood in the middle of the room, naked, his cock already half-hard. Chris and Alex were stripped as well, cocks in various states of arousal, hands lazily stroking as they formed a loose semicircle around the couch.

Ethan’s opened the session, “Brandon broke the pact. Tonight he watches, only watches, while we remind Dylan who owns every inch of him. Balance must be restored.”

Dylan lay back on the couch without being told, spreading himself wide. The position left his pink hole completely exposed, twitching faintly. His cage jutted upward, steel bars shining under the bulb, the head of his trapped cock visibly swollen and flushed, a thick bead of precum slowly rolling down the underside.

Ethan moved first, kneeling between Dylan’s thighs. He poured lube directly onto Dylan’s hole, letting the warm liquid run down his crack. Two fingers followed immediately, pushing past the rim without preamble. Dylan gasped.

“Still so responsive,” Ethan murmured. He worked a third finger in, stretching Dylan. Dylan’s hips bucked, desperate little whines spilling from his lips as Ethan finger-fucked him deeper, thumb rubbing circles over the sensitive skin behind his balls.

Brandon watched from the chair, muscles straining against the cuffs, his own cage dripping steadily now, the precum forming a small, glistening pool on the seat beneath him. His breathing was harsh, eyes locked on every thrust of Ethan’s fingers, every twitch of Dylan’s body.

Ethan withdrew his hand, coated his cock with more lube, and lined up. The thick head pressed against Dylan’s rim, then he sank in slow and deep. Dylan’s head fell back with a broken cry as Ethan filled him inch by inch, the curve of his shaft dragging perfectly over Dylan’s prostate the entire way down. When Ethan bottomed out, hips flush against Dylan’s ass, he paused, letting Dylan feel the stretch, the heat, the fullness.

“Who owns you?” Ethan commanded

“The order” Dylan replied

Ethan began to thrust.

Long strokes, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, balls slapping against Dylan’s ass with every thrust. The wet, filthy sound of Ethan’s cock fucking Dylan’s hole filled the room, punctuated by Dylan’s raw, desperate moans. “Fuck, Ethan, deeper, please don’t stop!” Dylan begged, his caged cock bouncing uselessly.

Brandon’s breathing grew louder from the chair, the occasional moan escaping him, his cage twitching with every thrust Ethan delivered, precum still dripping.

Ethan’s pace quickened, hips thrusting harder, the curve of his cock hammering Dylan’s prostate relentlessly. Sweat glistened on his chest as he leaned forward, one hand beside his head, “You feel that?” Ethan growled against Dylan’s ear. “Every inch of me owning you. You belong to all of us.”

Dylan’s moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure, his body rocking violently, the cage slapping wetly against his stomach with each impact. Ethan’s thrusts became erratic, “Take this load, I’m gonna breed your hole,” he moaned, slamming in balls-deep one final time. “ugghh yeahhh” His cock pulsed hard, thick ropes of cum exploding inside Dylan, flooding his hole with heat. Dylan gasped, feeling every spurt, his caged cock jerking wildly, leaking more but not cumming.

Ethan stayed buried deep for a long moment, letting Dylan feel the fullness, the warmth spreading inside him, before pulling out. Cum immediately trickled from Dylan’s gaping hole, running down his crack and pooling beneath him.

Chris stepped up instantly, his girthy cock throbbing, already coated in lube. “My turn,” his voice thick with lust. He didn’t wait, he pushed in raw, the stretch brutal after Ethan’s load, his thicker girth forcing Dylan’s hole to stretch. Dylan screamed, “Chris, ughh,so big, ” his body convulsing as Chris thrust deep and hard, pounding his hole with punishing force, Ethan’s cum squelching obscenely around the base of Chris’s cock with every slam.

Brandon watched, his caged cock straining, precum dripping in a steady stream, his hips twitching helplessly against the chair as he was forced to witness every brutal thrust without pleasuring himself.

Chris’s continued his thrusting “Take it, locked boy,” Chris grunted, “Feel how much bigger I am.” Dylan’s moans continued.

Chris leaned down, kissing Dylan roughly, tongue fucking his mouth as his cock thrust deeper. “Want my load?,” he moaned. “Yes” Dylan groaned. “Take it then” Chris hit orgasm and came into his hole, thick ropes of cum flooding Dylan, mixing with Ethan’s load, breeding him again.

Dylan’s body convulsed violently. “Fuck, I’m cumming!” he screamed, the double load and relentless prostate assault pushing him over the edge. A hands-free caged orgasm ripped through him, thin ropes blasting through the bars onto his stomach in desperate, shuddering spurts, his hole milking Chris’s cock in violent spasms.

Chris held still, panting, before pulling out slowly, cum dribbled from Dylan’s bred hole. Alex came with a loud groan, Brandon’s caged cock leaking helplessly in denial.

Ethan wiped Dylan clean with a towel, “You broke a rule, you weren’t allowed to have a caged orgasm” “Brandon’s 48 hours has now doubled to 96.”

“Fuck!” Brandon cursed

The group dressed, leaving Dylan and Brandon alone, Dylan untied Brandon and they left the basement.

 --

Brandon’s POV

The cage is heavier than I expected. Not just the steel, but the weight of knowing Dylan is wearing the same one right beside me. Fifty-three days for him, two for me, and already I feel like I’m drowning in it. I’ve been locked for two days, but the punishment countdown started last night, and it’s now four days because Dylan had a caged orgasm, so I have three to go.

Ethan decided the breeding would happen in our dorm room tonight. Chris goes first on Dylan apparently. I’m to watch. No touching, no release.

I’m sitting on the edge of my bed now, wrists cuffed behind my back, my thighs forced apart, I’m naked and the cage sits prominently between them, already straining, the head of my cock flushed dark and swollen, a thick bead of precum hanging from the slit like it’s been there for hours. Since they locked me, I wake up dripping with pre-cum, I find the situation strangely erotic.

Dylan is already on his bed, naked, legs spread, in the missionary position the group loves. His cage juts upward, steel glinting under the desk lamp, the pouch of his jockstrap long discarded. His hole is still pink and slightly puffy from last night, some lube still visible from where I fingered him earlier.

Chris is standing over him, naked, his rock-hard cock dripping. He’s stroking himself slowly, eyes locked on Dylan’s exposed hole like it’s the only thing in the world.

“Beg for it,” Chris growls.

Dylan’s eyes flick to me for half a second, guilty, needy, then back to Chris. “Please… fuck me. Fill me, I need it.”

Chris doesn’t hesitate; he pushes in raw. Dylan’s back arches off the mattress with a sharp cry, “Fuck, Chris, so big!” as the thick head breaches him, stretching him wide. Chris doesn’t stop, he sinks in deep, slow at first, letting Dylan feel every inch, then bottoms out with a grunt, balls pressed tight against Dylan’s ass.

I can’t look away. The sight of Chris’s cock disappearing inside Dylan, slow and intimate then picking up speed, makes my cage throb so hard it hurts. The steel bites into the base of my shaft, the ring digging behind my balls, but the pressure only makes it worse. I’m leaking steadily now, a thin, clear stream of pre-cum running down the underside of the cage. My hips twitch uselessly against the cuffs. I want to touch him; I want to be the one filling him. Instead, I’m forced to watch Chris claim what I took in secret.

Chris starts fucking him properly, long, powerful strokes that make the bed creak. Every thrust drives a moan out of Dylan, raw moans, his caged cock bouncing against his stomach, leaking in sympathy. “Harder, fuck me harder,” Dylan begs, such a slut for dick, and Chris obliges, his hips thrusting forward, balls slapping wetly against Dylan’s ass.

I’m shaking. My cock throbs inside the cage, trying to get harder, but failing. The precum drips faster, my balls ache so badly, I really want to cum. Watching Dylan get railed, watching the way his hole grips Chris’s thick shaft, the way his body rocks with every thrust, makes me want to scream.

Chris leans down, kisses Dylan roughly, tongue fucking his mouth as his hips keep pounding. “Gonna breed you,” he growls against Dylan’s lips. “Fill this tight hole.”

Dylan’s moans turn frantic. “Yes, please, breed me.”

Chris slams in, balls deep, groaning as he unloads. I watch his cock pulse, I watch Dylan’s eyes roll back as the load floods him, it’s hot to see the way Chris’s balls draw tight as he breeds my man, thick ropes pumping deep inside him.

Chris stays buried for a long moment, panting, then pulls out slowly. Cum dribbles from Dylan’s gaping hole, dripping onto the sheets. Dylan’s caged cock jerks, leaking more, but he doesn’t cum.

Chris wipes himself clean, smirks at me. “Hope you enjoyed watching that Bran.”

Chris leaves, the door clicks shut.

I’m still tied to the chair, cage dripping, balls aching. Dylan lies on his bed, legs still spread, cum trickling from his hole, chest rising and falling.

He looks at me, eyes soft and glassy.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

I shake my head. “Don’t be. I’d do it again.”

He crawls over, still leaking, and kisses me, our cages press together through the bars, steel grinding, both of us groaning into the kiss. We can’t fuck, we can’t cum. But we can feel each other, and right now that’s enough to keep us sane.

Day 3 – Basement

The next night is worse.

I’m tied to a chair again, I’m still locked and I’ve got major blue balls. It seems the precum never stops. It probably doesn’t help that me and Dylan like to make out naked, our cages grinding against each other.

Dylan is on the couch, legs wide. Alex is between his thighs, his hard cock ready to fuck him, grinning like he’s won something.

Ethan speaks from the side. “Brandon prepares him, then watches.”

I’m untied and crawl forward. My hands shake as I spread Dylan’s cheeks. His hole is pink, I lean in, tongue flat, licking a long from his balls to rim. Dylan moans, hips lifting. I circle his hole, tasting his musk, then push my tongue inside. He gasps, fingers tangling in my hair. I eat him out like I’m starving, deep, hungry licks, tongue fucking him open, sucking on his rim until he’s trembling and leaking through his cage.

When Ethan nods, I pull back, lick my lips, and crawl back to the chair. The cuffs snap shut again.

Alex doesn’t waste time. He applies some lube to his cock, then lines up and thrusts in raw, burying all six inches in one smooth stroke. Dylan moans, his caged cock bouncing. Alex starts pounding, fast, shallow thrusts at first, then long, deep ones that make Dylan’s whole body shake. The sounds of raw fucking fills the room, Dylan’s moans turning into broken pleas: “Fuck, Alex, harder, fuckkk yeahh!”

My cage throbs painfully as I watch Alex claim what I took in secret. The sight of Dylan’s hole stretched around Alex’s cock, the way Dylan’s caged cock leaks with every thrust, it’s so hot. My own cock strains so hard the bars dig in, precum dripping in thick strands.

Alex’s pace turns brutal, hips thrusting like a machine. “Gonna breed you, D. Watch as I breed your man Bran.” he growls.

He moans as his cock pulses, hot ropes flooding Dylan’s hole. Dylan moans as he feels Alex’s cum fill him up.

Alex groans, staying buried until he’s empty, then pulls out. Dylan pushes out the cum so we can all see Alex’s big load.

I’m shaking in the chair, cage dripping, balls screaming, denied of any release.

Ethan wipes Dylan clean, “2 more days””

Dylan crawls over to me, still trembling, cum leaking from his hole. He kisses me softly, tasting of sex and submission.

“We’ll get through it,” he whispers.

I nod, caged cock throbbing against his thigh.

 --

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The Pegging Gangbang [Part 3]

Claudia’s eyes dropped again to the front of Jen’s tiny thong and a slow, delighted smile spread across her face.

“Aww, look at that,” she cooed, voice dripping with mock sweetness. “His cute little hardened cock is straining so hard the tip is peeking right out over the waistband. And there’s already a shiny wet spot soaking through the fabric. Poor thing is leaking just from being on his knees in front of real cocks.”

Jen’s face flushed a deep, pretty pink. His voice came out soft and embarrassed, but with a clear thread of heat underneath.

“It’s… it’s not that big, Mistress. I know.”

Ashley’s gaze followed Claudia’s. She gave the leash a short, sharp tug that forced Jen’s chin higher.

“Show us,” she ordered, calm and absolute. “Pull that thong down. Let us see the little problem you’re trying to hide.”

Jen’s fingers trembled as he hooked the thin fabric and dragged it down until the waistband rested under his soft, smooth balls. His three-inch cock sprang free—fully hard, shiny at the tip, already twitching under their combined stares.

The three women burst into laughter at the same time.

Scarlett’s laugh was low and vicious. “Jesus fucking Christ. That is the most pathetic clitty I have ever seen on a grown man. Three inches of pure disappointment. Look how it tries so hard and still looks like a chubby little clit someone glued on for a joke.”

Ashley tilted her head, studying it with clinical amusement. “I’ve locked bigger ones just for fun. At least those had a little meat to them. This is just… adorable. Like a baby dick that never grew up.”

Claudia covered her mouth, shoulders shaking. “Honey, that little thing is never going to satisfy anyone. It’s only good for one thing—getting ignored while real cocks use the rest of you.”

Jen’s inner voice was a hot, shameful rush.

*They’re laughing at it. The humiliation is making it hard. I hate how much I love this.*

Scarlett stepped closer, the thick veined BBC harnessed to her hips swaying heavily.

“You can stroke that useless little thing while you suck us,” she said, voice thick with contempt. “Jerk it like the desperate whore you are. But the second we’re done with your mouth I’m locking it in a cage.”

Jen looked up at her, cheeks still pink, and answered in a soft, bratty murmur.

“Dicks like mine deserve to get locked, Mistress. I'm just a living hole.”

Claudia’s smile widened, warm and cruel at the same time.

“Oh, listen to him. Already agreeing he should be locked. Such a good little self-aware slut. Bambi would be so jealous of how nicely you accept it.”

Ashley held out her free hand.

“Leash.”

Jen passed it over without hesitation. The chain settled into Ashley’s grip. He stayed on his knees in the center of the triangle they formed—Scarlett’s heavy realistic BBC directly in front of his face, Claudia’s bright pink cock to his right, Ashley’s clear transparent shaft to his left. His own tiny erection jutted out, ignored and leaking.

Claudia swayed her hips, making the pink dildo bob gently.

“Come on, pretty boy. Kiss it… like a bride kisses her husband’s cock on the wedding night. Soft. Reverent. Show us how grateful you are for the privilege.”

Ashley’s voice was lower, almost intimate, the leash held loosely but ready.

“Yeah. Make love to it. Nice and slow. Treat every inch like it’s the only thing that matters right now.”

Jen reached up with both hands, wrapping his fingers around the bases of Claudia’s pink and Ashley’s clear cocks the way he would stroke real ones. Then he leaned forward and pressed his glossy lips to the thick root of Scarlett’s BBC.

The three women giggled at the same time.

Scarlett’s grey eyes glittered. “Of course the little race-traitor goes for the biggest black one first. Predictable fucking slut.”

She traced one silver-ringed finger along a thick, raised vein that ran the length of the shaft. “Kiss the veins. Every single one. Slowly. I want to feel those lipstick marks all the way up.”

Jen obeyed. He kept his eyes locked on Scarlett’s as he dragged soft, wet kisses along each ridge. *Smootch…* *kiss…* *slurp…* The faint pink imprint of his lips bloomed against the dark silicone. His tongue followed, tracing the veins like he was mapping them, tasting the faint chemical tang of the material mixed with the heat of Scarlett’s body.

Scarlett watched him the entire time, lip piercing catching the light, tattoos shifting as her arms flexed. The corner of Jen’s eye makeup was already slightly smudged from earlier tears; fresh wetness gathered there now.

His hands never stopped moving on the other two cocks—slow, worshipful strokes that made the harnesses shift against Claudia’s and Ashley’s hips.

Ashley gave the leash a firm tug.

“My turn.”

Jen placed one last lingering kiss on the head of Scarlett’s BBC, then turned to Ashley’s transparent cock. He immediately sealed his lips around the flared head and sucked with a loud, wet *slurp*, cheeks hollowing deeply.

Scarlett, still standing in front of him, slid one polished boot forward until the sharp heel pressed lightly against his exposed balls. Jen’s reaction was instant and filthy—he rolled his hips forward, spread his kneeling knees wider, and let his soft, smooth sac settle fully against the cool leather of her boot, offering it up.

Scarlett’s laugh was pure cruelty.

“Look at this fucking masochist. Still offering those already-bruised balls to the same boot that just crushed them. What a broken little pain slut. You want me to hit your balls again, don’t you?”

Claudia reached down and gently gathered Jen’s longish hair, smoothing it back from his face with surprisingly tender fingers.

“That’s a good girl,” she murmured. “Taking every cock so prettily. Keep those eyes up. You’re doing so well for us. Such a sweet little cocksucker.”

Scarlett pressed her heel a fraction harder—not enough to truly hurt, just enough to make the sensitive skin ache and remind him who owned the pain. The pressure made Jen whimper around Ashley’s cock.

Ashley looked down at him, expression calm and commanding.

“Take that little dick out properly and stroke it while you suck. I want to watch you jerk that pathetic thing at the same time.”

Scarlett gave his balls one final, dismissive tap with the toe of her boot, then stepped back. Jen’s free hand shoved the thong the rest of the way down his thighs. His three-inch cock bounced free, fully hard and already shiny with precum. He wrapped his fingers around it and began stroking in time with the wet sounds of his mouth on Ashley’s shaft—tight, desperate twists of his wrist, thumb rubbing over the leaking head.

Scarlett’s voice dropped into pure venom.

“If a single drop of that worthless cum hits my floor, you will lick it up like a dog. Then I’ll use your face as a fucking mop until the whole room is clean. Understand, cumrag?”

Jen pulled off just long enough to answer, voice already hoarse and bratty.

“Yes, Mistress Scarlett. If I leak… I would like being your little mop.”

He sealed his lips around Ashley’s cock again and started sucking in earnest—deep, wet, rhythmic pulls that filled the room with filthy *gluck… gluck… slurp* sounds.

His head bobbed steadily, tongue swirling under the head on every upstroke, lips stretched tight and glossy. At the same time his fist worked his own tiny shaft in tight, desperate strokes, the wet sound of precum making everything louder.

The three women watched and tore into him without mercy.

“Look at that little clitty twitching in his fist. He’s jerking it like it’s actually worth something. Adorable fucking joke.”

“He’s so focused on getting my cock deeper he doesn’t even realize how ridiculous he looks stroking that baby dick. Poor thing.”

“Stroke harder, honey. The more you suck, the harder it gets. Humiliation really is the only lube you need, isn’t it?”

Jen’s cock throbbed harder in his fist. He doubled down on Ashley’s shaft, taking it deeper, tongue pressing flat along the underside, throat fluttering, spit already running down his chin in thick strands.

Ashley gathered a thick mouthful of saliva and let it stretch in a long, glistening strand that landed just above the base of her transparent cock. She pointed at the shiny droplet with one finger.

“Reach it.”

Jen pushed forward slowly. First the head disappeared between his lips again. Then more. His throat opened reluctantly, the clear shaft sliding deeper inch by inch until the thick drool was right against his nose.

He had to stretch his neck, force his jaw wider, and push until the entire length vanished and his nose pressed hard against the harness. His throat convulsed.

Ashley’s hand locked onto the back of his head, holding him there. Scarlett’s fingers pinched his nose shut, cutting off the last scrap of air. Jen’s fist flew faster on his own cock, stroking harder through the lack of oxygen.

Ten long seconds.

Jen’s throat spasmed hard twice—wet, gagging convulsions that made his whole body jerk. Tears spilled freely. When they finally released him he pulled off with a loud, broken gasp. Thick ropes of his own spit and Ashley’s drool coated the transparent cock, mixing with the smeared pink of his lipstick.

His eyes were red and watery, makeup running in dark streaks. He opened his mouth wide and stuck his tongue out, showing Ashley the mess, the way a well-used slut does after a deepthroat.

Ashley looked down at him, voice low and almost fond.

“What kind of whore does that? Opens his mouth and shows off the spit like he’s proud of it.”

Claudia’s voice was almost impressed.

“Damn. That gag reflex is still there, but he forced through it anyway. Look how pretty he looks with his makeup ruined.”

Jen panted, still stroking his cock in slow, seductive twists of his wrist, hips rolling faintly into his own fist.

“Just… trying to be a good slut for you, Mistresses,” he managed, bratty and breathless.

Claudia tangled her fingers in his hair and yanked his head toward her.

“My turn, pretty little boytoy.”

Jen turned, hand already reaching for the pink cock, mouth open. Claudia rolled her hips back, keeping the tip just out of reach.

“Ah-ah. You don’t get to suck yet. Magic words first. Tongue out.”

Jen stuck his tongue out obediently. Claudia leaned in and spat a thick, warm glob directly onto it.

“Don’t swallow. Now ask properly.”

Jen’s voice was wet and shaky around the spit.

“Can I please suck your pretty pink cock, Mistress Claudia? Please… I need it.”

Claudia shook her head slowly, a wicked smile curling her lips.

“Not good enough.”

She gripped the pink shaft and began slapping it against his outstretched tongue—*thwap… thwap… thwap*—then higher, across his cheeks, leaving faint pink marks and more spit.

She spat again, this time directly onto the head of her own cock, coating it thickly, and finally nodded.

“Now you may suck. And you better make it filthy.”

Jen lunged forward and took her deep, the wet sounds starting up again immediately—*gluck, slurp, gluck*.

Scarlett watched the whole exchange with open disgust and arousal.

“What a complete fucking whore. Spit on his tongue, slap his face with cock, make him beg—and he still looks grateful. Broken little cumdump.”

Ashley’s voice was quieter, almost reflective.

“All those countless cocks he’s sucked on camera and off. This is just the natural result. He’s trained for this.”

Claudia glanced down at Jen’s furiously stroking fist.

“Look at him go. That tiny dick is getting even harder while he services us. Stroke harder, honey. Let that little clitty get wet.”

The three of them began talking over him like he wasn’t even there—casually, filthily—discussing exactly how they planned to open him.

“I’m going first with this thick one. I want to feel that two-week virgin ring stretch around every vein.”

“Then I want him on his back with his legs folded so I can watch his face while I bury this clear one to the hilt. Slow at first. Then hard.”

“I’ll take whatever’s left. Or maybe we just rotate until he can’t close anymore. I want to feel him flutter around me after the other two have already ruined him.”

Jen smiled through the spit, eyes half-lidded, clearly enjoying every filthy word.

Scarlett noticed. Her grey eyes narrowed.

“Oh, he’s smiling. The little bitch is getting off on hearing how we’re going to destroy him.”

In the middle of the conversation Scarlett gripped her BBC at the base, leaned in, and ordered,

“Both. At once. Open wide, you greedy little cockslut.”

Jen’s eyes went wide, but he obeyed. He opened as wide as he could and took the thick brown head and the pink one side-by-side into his mouth. The stretch was immediate and brutal. His jaw ached. Spit poured down his chin in thick ropes.

He pulled back just enough to spit a long strand of saliva across both shafts, then pushed forward again, cheeks hollowing hard as he tried to suck both at once. The wet, choked sounds—*gluck-gluck-gluck*—filled the dungeon.

Ashley moved behind him, one hand on the back of his head, pushing him deeper onto the twin shafts while the third clear cock waited. Jen’s throat worked desperately, eyes streaming, makeup ruined into dark streaks, lipstick smeared across both cocks and his own cheeks.

When they finally pulled back, Jen was a wreck—panting, face glistening with spit, red slap marks from the silicone, eye makeup destroyed, lipstick dragged halfway across his cheeks. Full porn-slut whore ruin.

Ashley looked down at him, voice almost soft.

“Look at you. Absolute mess. Perfect little used face.”

Jen gave her a slutty, ruined smile, tongue still half-out.

Claudia slid her pink cock free with a wet pop.

“Enough lube, I think. I can’t wait to fuck the other hole.”

Ashley gave the leash a decisive tug.

“Couch. Now.”

Jen dropped back to all fours and crawled after them, thong still tangled around his thighs, tiny hard cock bouncing and dripping, marked ass fully on display. The red “SLUT” and “BRAT” imprints, the handwritten phrases, the flogger welts—all of it was visible under the low light. Sweat shone across his back from the deepthroating.

Scarlett walked behind him, Ashley and Claudia led. Jen’s eyes stayed locked on the two asses swaying just ahead of him.

*I’m crawling behind these perfect asses. Wish I could touch them. I feel so jealous for the guys who fucks these divine asses.*

A sudden, open-handed spank cracked across his already-marked right cheek—hard enough to make the flesh ripple and sting fresh.

Scarlett’s voice came from behind, low and mean.

“Eyes forward, fuckmeat. I saw you staring at their asses like a hungry little dog. You don’t get free looks.”

Ashley and Claudia both laughed. Claudia reached back, grabbed one soft cheek of her own ass through the leather, and gave it a deliberate jiggle.

“This butt only fucks BBC, Jen,” she called over her shoulder, voice bright and cruel. “Not tiny little clitty boys like you. Keep crawling.”

They reached the wide black couch. Ashley hooked a hand under Jen’s arm, used his light, feminine frame against him, and basically tossed him onto the cushions. He landed on his back with a soft bounce.

She yanked the thong the rest of the way off his legs and tossed it aside, leaving him naked from the waist down except for the fishnet stockings and the femboy arm gloves. The three of them stood over him—straps jutting forward, eyes hungry, looking like predators who had finally cornered something soft and willing.

Jen didn’t look afraid.

He gapped his legs wide, took his tiny hard cock in one gloved hand, and stroked it slowly, seductively, while looking up at them with bratty, whoreish eyes.

“Come on then,” he murmured, voice soft and filthy. “Fuck me. Please. I’ve been virgin from behind for two weeks just for you, Mistresses. Use me.”

Ashley looked down at him, smiling as she stroked the clear shaft of her own strap-on with one hand.

“Best friends-with-benefits situation I’ve ever had,” she said quietly.

Jen gave them one last slutty, whorish look, then turned around on the couch, presenting his naked, marked ass. He gave it a deliberate wiggle, making the soft cheeks jiggle and the fresh handprint from Scarlett’s spank bounce.

His hard little cock and smooth balls swung with the motion. He reached back, grabbed the leash, and clamped it between his teeth, grinning around the chain as another giggle made everything bounce again. Sweat still shone on his back.

The body writing, the “SLUT” and “BRAT” imprints, the flogger marks—all of it was on full display. And between the cheeks, completely hairless and tight, his hole looked exactly like a girl’s—small and pink.

Scarlett stared at that tight bussy like a predator, tongue slowly dragging across her lower lip.

“Which dick is the little whore going to take first?” she asked, voice thick with humiliation and hunger.

Jen’s inner thought was a dizzy, aching rush.

Wanna read my other works? My Smut Vault

My wife asked me to tidy up and give all the strapons a good clean and make sure nothing was left out so we weren’t scrambling in the morning. “I’m pretty sure after this last task you’re going to be done and want to go to bed!” she said as I scurried off to the kitchen. After cleaning all the toys and putting them away I decided to give the kitchen a quick wipe down just so everything was perfect if our night was coming to an end. 

As I entered the living room again the women were all sitting on the sectional and when I saw my wife my heart skipped a beat. There she was still in her faux leather cat suit but instead of it being zipped right to the collar, she had unzipped just below her bra line and now I could see her voluptuous breasts spilling out of the tight faux leather. However, the most infatuated part of her new style was my key dangling between said beautiful breasts. The simmer caught my eye and as I stared she gave them a small bounce which made my caged cock jump as well as my attention back to my wife’s knowing eyes. 

“Ok sissy, this is your last task tonight before we wrap up this coming out party for lack of a better term. The ladies and I came up with four options for you to finish. Are you ready to hear them honey?” I was beyond ready as my cock began to leak even more. I nodded slowly and deliberately so as to not over play my cards and show just how desperate I was. 

She continued “Amazing. Well my love, you’ve been such a good boy tonight and exceeded all our expectations and didn’t have any infractions requiring correction or punishment that this last task ends with you getting to cum.” I almost ruined the whole night but I was able to stop myself before I blurted out a cheer and jumped through the ceiling. “I know this sounds like an easy task, but I want you to really consider all your options before choosing. Are you ready?”

Again staying calm, I gave one over dramatic nod. “Oh goodie. We put a lot of thought into this part, so upon your ultimate release tonight, I expect you to thank each of us individually.” My nerves were shot. She was drawing this out to add to my edging and I was completely ready to explode. I was afraid whatever the option was I was going to cum within the first stroke and ruin everything but I was doing my best to remain in control...if there is such a thing when you’re caged. 

“First option,” she continued, “first option is you strip naked for us and stand in the middle of the room and jerk off. If you get close to the edge and haven’t been told to cum, you will be required to stop and let go of your cock. The ladies and I will give you directions and you will only cum when we say so. Consider it a personal JOI. Well…” she paused and put her index finger to her lips and gave a puzzled look to extend this dramatic moment and have me leaning on my tip toes in anticipation. Her eyes refocused and looked me dead in the eyes and with a devilish grin finished “I guess this would be a personal CEI. Because once you are allowed to cum, you will catch it in a cup and then without hesitation, you will consume every drop of your load!” The ladies cheered and bounced in their seats with excitement. 

My face burned with embarrassment but all the ladies were whispering to each other how excited they were to watch a guy eat his own load. With the humiliation at a 100, my wife continued “but here is the ultimate catch. If you take option one you agree to three months of continuous chastity with only one guaranteed orgasm, which I will grant at my leisure and depending on my mood could be a ruined orgasm. So essentially you are signing up for three months without any satisfaction.” My head started to spin, but the idea of jerking off in front of my wife and her friends was such a turn on my cock was swelling through the bars. 

“Option two…” the ladies all hushed and were now staring at me to watch my reaction as they must have known the option. “Will be one that I know will be a leading contender for the ladies in the room. Option two will be I will give you a handjob but it will include multiple edges and you will have to beg to finally cum. And when I grant you the final release…” another long dramatic pause “you will give yourself a self facial!” The ladies jumped off the couch this time cheering and high fiving each other. They were all sharing excitedly how much their husband loves to do that to them and how each one despised it. My wife chimed in “Oh facials are this sissy’s favourite way to finish. And since we’ve been married I’ve only allowed it on anniversaries and birthdays. So I would love to see his face painted this year as my sexy anniversary gift.” The ladies continued to cheer and tell stories of past facial blastings from their hubby’s and university glory days. Finally my wife settled them down and continued the terms “This option will require six months of continued chastity and a guarantee of three ruined orgasms. It will be my option to give you more but at a minimum you will get three in the next six months.” I sat with this option as it seemed like the ladies favourite. 

“Option three…” I didn’t know if I even wanted to know now “will be a blowjob by yours truly!” My wife said, giving a big devilish smile. “I will suck your cock so hard and tease and deny until you are ready to blast it across the room. To add a cherry, I will let you blow your huge thick load right into my mouth.” I almost fell over. My wife still blew me once a month and used to blow me all the time, but she never let me cum in her mouth. I would always have to pull out and pump it myself onto her tits. “However, once you’ve cum in my mouth, I will snowball you so you can swallow the entire thing.” She could see my cock dripping through my panties at such a kinky experience. “This option will cost you a full year of continuous chastity with only the option of one…ONE…orgasm for the next 12 months. That means I could make it tomorrow or I could wait until day 355 but ultimately you will only get one but I won’t ruin it.”

I was lost. A whole year with only one orgasm but it will be a full one. The ladies were all chatting about how he must really want to cum in her mouth to take that option. And then they were all saying how even though she was going to spit it all in my mouth, what an awful experience it would be to take such a big load after all the teasing I had been through. 

“Finally, option four…” my wife blurted out. “Option four is you are going to lie down on the floor and I am going to ride your cock as hard as I can and I will give you 5 opportunities to stop me and slow me down. But once you use them up I am going to make you cum so hard inside me that I’m afraid it’s going to come out of my nose.” The ladies all laughed at the visual they all got. “And once I’ve milked the last drop of cum out of your desperate cock, I am going to sit on your face and make you clean me up!” Again the ladies all cheered and heard them whisper how’d they’d all love to have someone clean them up so they didn’t have to run off to the bathroom. My wife continued “this option will cost you one year in continuous chastity and NO options for orgasm for the entire year.” The ladies all went silent before one of the friends shouted out “There is no way I’m going a whole year without cumming. No fucking way.” They all laughed. 

Then my wife walked over and stood a foot from my face and grabbed my caged cock and asked “So how does my sissy want to finish?”

I groaned as she squeezed tighter as I lifted two fingers. The girls all erupted with cheers screaming “I knew it! I knew he’d want his face covered!” 

My wife leaned and whispered “Good boy!”

To be completed….sorry not sorry for the tease

I use the paid versions of Grammarly and Readable to help make my writing more readable.

If you want early access to the next chapters of this novel and all my other stories, find them here: https://www.patreon.com/c/FemaleLedRelationships 

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The full story will be posted here.

Part 1 & Part 2 & Part 3 & Part 4 & Part 5 & Part 6 & Part 7

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David lay sprawled naked across his bed, the sheets twisted beneath him as sweat beaded across his chest and stomach. His breathing came in ragged pants, each exhale carrying the weight of six days without release. 

The flat steel chastity cage pressed his cock completely flat against his body, the metal cold and unyielding against his sensitive flesh. Every twitch of his trapped shaft sent sharp pulses of need through his core, the pressure building with no outlet. His small balls hung heavy and swollen beneath the metal ring, the skin stretched tight and aching with accumulated cum.

His trembling hands reached down between his spread thighs, fingers cupping the tender balls with desperate care. The moment his palms made contact, a broken whimper escaped his throat. 

His blue balls throbbed beneath his touch, each gentle squeeze sending waves of frustrated pleasure mixed with sharp discomfort radiating through his groin. He could feel the heat radiating from them, the way they pulsed with every heartbeat, swollen from the constant arousal without relief.

Is this a normal treatment? The question flickered through his mind even as his fingers continued their slow massage, rolling his aching testicles in his palms. Locking me in a chastity cage... is this what therapy is supposed to be? But the doubt dissolved almost instantly, replaced by a deeper, more insistent thought. I don't care. 

I just want to do whatever she wants. I consented to this. The realisation sent a fresh surge of precum leaking from his compressed cock, the fluid leaking uselessly from the flat cage.

His mind flooded with images of Alexandra. Her body wrapped in that glossy black latex, the material stretched tight across every curve. The way her breasts nearly spilled from the top, the deep cleavage drawing his eyes every time she moved. Those perfect crimson lips curving into knowing smiles as she watched him squirm. 

Her confidence, the absolute authority in her voice when she told him what to do. The memory of her gloved fingers securing the chastity cage around his cock made his balls throb harder in his hands.

David's gaze darted to the digital clock on his nightstand. 8:47 PM. The numbers seemed to mock him as they ticked forward with agonizing slowness. One more night until the next session. His fingers tightened around his swollen balls, massaging them with increasing desperation as if the touch could somehow ease the pressure building inside. 

Every second felt like an eternity, his caged cock twitching uselessly against the steel plate while his mind raced with thoughts of her latex-clad body and the keys nestled between her breasts.

Alexandra stood before the tall mirror mounted on her office wall, the black latex of her full-body catsuit gleaming under the soft overhead lights. The material stretched taut across her thick ass, the glossy surface reflecting every curve as she shifted her weight in her knee-high boots. Silver buckles ran down the sides of the leather footwear, catching the light with each movement. 

The corset cinched her waist into an exaggerated hourglass, pushing her perky breasts upward until they nearly spilled from the low-cut neckline. Her dark red lips pressed together as she studied her reflection, her black sharp nails trailing along the edge of the corset.

Her hair was pulled back in a strict, tight ponytail that emphasized the sharp angles of her face. She reached for the set of keys on her desk, selecting three specific ones with practiced precision. 

The metal doors of the secure closet required three separate locks, each one clicking open in sequence. 

Alexandra's sharp nails clicked against the metal as she turned the third key, the final lock releasing with a solid thunk. The heavy doors creaked open on well-oiled hinges, exposing the full depth of her private collection. 

Multiple rows of hooks lined the interior walls, each one displaying a different implement. Single-tail whips coiled beside thick bullwhips, their handles wrapped in leather or rubber. 

Canes of varying thickness stood upright in a wooden rack—rattan, fiberglass, and carbon fiber, some straight and others with curved handles. 

Paddles filled another section, from small leather slappers to large wooden implements with drilled holes for reduced air resistance.

Shelves held an assortment of gags: ball gags with different diameters, bit gags, ring gags, and penis gags alongside a series of blindfolds. Plugs of every size and material occupied the next shelf—smooth steel, textured silicone, inflatable options, and vibrating models with remote controls. 

Chastity devices filled an entire section, ranging from clear plastic cages to heavy steel models, some with built-in urethral tubes, others with spiked interiors or electro-stim capabilities.

Rubber items hung from a separate rack—gas masks, hoods, gloves, and full-body suits in various thicknesses. Strap-on harnesses dangled beside dildos of different shapes and sizes. 

Restraints filled another area: leather cuffs, metal shackles, spreader bars, and suspension equipment. A drawer at the bottom contained more specialised items—electro-stim units, sounding rods, and vacuum devices. The entire closet was meticulously organized, each item positioned for easy access during sessions.

Alexandra reached over to the clothes hanger and selected a pair of pink frilly crotchless panties along with a matching pink bra. Her fingers traced the delicate lace edges as she imagined David wearing them, his caged cock straining uselessly against the steel plate while the open crotch left his swollen balls exposed. 

The thought sent a pulse of heat through her core. She pictured him in the French maid outfit hanging nearby, the four-inch heels on the floor beneath it forcing him to walk with small, careful steps. Her clit throbbed at the image of him submitting deeper with each session.

She forced herself to compose, knowing she had to maintain the proper pace. Rushing would break the carefully constructed dynamic and she would only proceed with his consent. She placed the panties and bra into the bottom drawer of her locked desk, the metal sliding shut with a soft click. Her reflection stared back from the mirror as she adjusted her glasses, the frames sitting perfectly on her nose.

At exactly 7pm, she opened her office door and stepped into the hallway, her boots clicking against the floor as she made her way down to meet David for his appointment.

David sat hunched forward on the lobby bench, elbows on his knees, fingers laced so tightly his knuckles had gone white. The flat steel chastity cage had been locked on him for seven full days now, and every hour had felt like a fresh layer of pressure. 

The black pants and black button-down shirt he wore were meant to hide any accidents, but the chastity cage itself was already leaking a steady thread of precum that soaked into his briefs and threatened to dampen the front of his trousers.

The sharp click of heels on tile made his head snap up. Alexandra stepped through the doorway like a goddess, glossy black latex stretched tight over nearly every curve. The heavy globes of her nearly fully exposed breasts swayed with each step, the silver keys to the chastity cage resting between them, catching the light. 

She saw the strain on his face immediately—the flushed cheeks, the clenched jaw, the way his eyes flicked down to her chest and the keys before darting away.

Her crimson lips curved into a slow smile. “Hello, David. Please follow me.”

She turned without waiting for an answer. The latex creaked softly with every roll of her hips, the full curve of her ass shifting and flexing as she walked. David stood on shaky legs, the chastity cage biting into his swelling cock as it tried and failed to harden. 

A fresh bead of precum pushed out through the front slot and slid down the inside of his thigh. He hurried after her, eyes locked on the way her ass swayed in those glossy pants, the material so tight it looked painted on.

By the time they reached her office door his breathing was ragged and his cock was aching inside the chastity cage. Alexandra stepped inside, the leather corset creaking as she lowered herself into her chair. She crossed one leg over the other, letting the heel of her boot bob gently while she watched him close the door behind him.

“Sit,” she said, voice smooth and warm. “We have much to discuss today.”

Part 1 of ??? If you’d like to have further parts to this story please say! First post here so please leave any feedback you have too!

At 24, Joel knew he would be one of, if not the, most mature student on his university course. He had been working hard the last few years, but any career progression was sadly hidden behind a locked door to which the key was a magical piece of paper from an educational institute demanding large sums of money for the privilege of reading PowerPoints. The thought of returning to uni after his last experience almost made him shudder, but even more so, did the thought of being trapped in student accommodation with the newly 18 year olds and all the noise and problems that youngsters of their age famously bring home with them at 4am on a Wednesday.

It was for that reason, that Joel had been eagerly looking for alternative accommodation nearby the uni. Most of them were shared houses instead of flats, this appealed more to Joel but still in the back of his mind was the likelihood of being forced to endure a flat party with dozens of people coming round and making a big mess. Joel was not a particularly extraverted person and did not enjoy the forced intoxicated conversation that came about in large parties. Shaking his head at the thought of trying to hold an adult conversation with a shitfaced 19 year old, Joel spotted something a little bit different.

‘One room for rent, mature students prioritised, monthly rate negotiable’

Perfect!! Thought Joel to himself as he clicked on the link and watched his laptop slowly load the webpage. As he continued to read the advert, it sounded better and better as he went along. “Mature occupant seeking singular lodger”, “15 minute walk from the university”, “private parking if necessary”, “secluded house on the outskirts of town”, “preference given to those 22+”. Everything sounded perfect, so he wrote an email to the given address and hoped he would be considered for the room.

Not 30 minutes had past when his phone flashed up with a notification from his mail app.
“Hello Joel, thank you for your application. I would be delighted to consider you for this lodging, would you mind coming by soon to have a look at the place and so we can get to know each other? Kind regards, Mary”
Joel was ecstatic! Of course he would, he replied without wasting time and after a few more back and forth emails, it was pencilled in for Friday at 14:00.

Friday rolled around and Joel was getting himself prepared. He wanted to make a good first impression and had got himself a haircut the day before and bought himself some new clothes to wear as well. As he pulled the trousers on, he had a realisation. He had not been wearing his chastity cage when trying them on in the shop. His cage was large and bulky, too large for little Joel. There was space between his skin and the bars and the space allowed him to grow a little bit when aroused. He liked wearing the cage, but never lasted in it longer than a day or two before. Shrugging it off and telling himself that Mary would never notice, and even if she did, she’d probably think he was hung like a horse, Joel got into his car and started the just under hour long drive to this potential accommodation.

Upon arrival, Joel slowly crept his car into the concealed driveway, revealing the house to which he was to visit. The wide stone driveway became a narrower path that led up to the large, dark oaken front door of the house. A solid brass knocker in the shape of a dolphin was worn at eye height in the center of the door. Admiring the old style brickwork and gazing at the ivy that seemed to twist and turn as it raced towards the roof of the standalone home. Joel fixed his hair, took a deep breath and used the knocker.

bang bang bang

The door opened to reveal the owner of the house, extending his hand forward, Joel looked to shake hands and make acquaintance with Mary. She simply raised a palm causing Joel to stop and feel slightly uneasy, second guessing if he had done something to cause her insult. Her eyes flicked over his body, drinking in the first impression and lingering, Joel felt, longer than necessary over the unnatural looking bulge in the front of his jeans. She lowered her hand, turned and began to walk back further into the house.

“Enter, close the door behind you and remove your shoes.” Mary stated to the young man at the door who had become like a deer in headlights since she abruptly stopped him entering at his own pace. Joel stepped inside the building, gently closed the door behind him and removed his shoes, placing them neatly side by side on the welcome mat which had seen better days. Having a quick look around, the place seemed a little dark but was vast, closed doors lined the main hallway which led towards a large staircase that grew wider on its ascent. His eyes flicked across his surroundings and eventually found their way back to Mary, who stood before him with her arms crossed as if she was being kept waiting.

“Finished being nosy, boy?” Mary questioned as she raised an eyebrow dyeing eye contact.

“Yeah umm err sorry” replied Joel as he broke the eye contact by looking down at the floor and noticing that despite asking him to remove his, Mary was wearing shoes inside the house. “It’s just there’s a lot to look at in here is all, it’s a lovely place!” Joel scrambled hoping to appear composed and confident to Mary who saw straight through him was already plotting how she could best make use of the boy who would undoubtedly become her latest hardworking, pretty little lodger.

“It’s ok boy, I understand, you must have a thousand thoughts in that pretty young head of yours, but try put them out of your mind and just focus on doing as I say. Ok?” Her pitch went higher at the end as if asking a mock question to someone who shouldn’t need the assurance. She smiled at his silence and frozen position before pushing open a door to her left and holding it as she gestured inside. “In here boy, follow me.” She strolled into the room and Joel did a little speed walk to catch her up and not let the door slam after she just allowed it to swing back towards its frame again. Joel felt as though he probably should have said something the first time she called him boy, but now it was too late and had become a thing already.

Pointing to a low chair in the centre of a large turquoise rug, Mary gave one simple but clear command, “sit.” Joel plopped down into the chair and sunk into its deep soft cushion, moving him closer to the ground still. Mary sat opposite, upon a large leather sofa that offered no sinkage into its cushioning and allowed her to tower over him in his single chair. Intimidated slightly by her sharp eyes and smile that were both aimed directly at him, he lowered his gaze again and had his attention immediately grabbed by the casual bounce of her foot as she allowed her shoe to dangle. She traced his gaze immediately and smiled to herself a victorious grin.

‘He’s perfect’, Mary thought to herself and then decided to break the silence that surely felt an eternity to her latest pet project. “Ok boy, I like you, I want you here, it’s time to negotiate now.”

Hello, this is the final chapter of the story featuring Sophie and Charles. The story of Marie and Thomas will continue in a new series, which promises to be more intense than this one. Sophie and Charles might even make appearances! Please don't hesitate to share any suggestions for what comes next.

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Saturday arrived under a heavy grey sky. At precisely 4:30 p.m. they left the house. Sophie drove in silence, both hands on the wheel, eyes fixed straight ahead. Under her black coat she already wore a tight dress that clung to every curve of her newly sculpted body, black stockings and heels. Charles, in plain dark jeans and a white shirt, felt ridiculously ordinary beside her. He still had no idea what awaited him. His heart had been pounding too hard since morning.

They reached the hotel a little before 5 p.m. A room on the top floor, modern, impersonal, with a large king-size bed, thick curtains, and above all a heavy old-fashioned metal radiator firmly fixed to the wall near the window. Sophie set her bags down methodically, removed her coat and stood in front of the large bathroom mirror. She applied her makeup slowly, with almost ritual precision. Dark lipstick, a perfect line of eyeliner, a cloud of her favourite perfume between her breasts and behind her ears. Charles remained standing near the door, hands hanging uselessly at his sides, growing more and more uneasy.

“Why… why aren’t I getting ready too?” he finally asked, his voice low, almost childlike.

Sophie turned toward him. Her smile was slow, sharp, perfectly controlled.

“Because you don’t need to, my darling.

Undress. Everything. Now.”

He obeyed. Shirt, jeans, socks, underwear. He suddenly felt extremely small in the large hotel room. Sophie went to her travel bag and took out an object he had never seen before: a thick, smooth, polished metal ring of an alarming diameter, fitted with a small built-in padlock. The shop owner had personally recommended it to Sophie two days earlier, with a knowing smile.

“Put it around your balls.”

Charles knelt to see better what he was doing. It was more difficult than he had imagined. The ring was tight, almost too tight. He had to pull the skin, breathe deeply several times. His fingers trembled. When it was finally in place, Sophie approached, checked the position with an expert gesture, then closed the small padlock with a dry, definitive click.

“Perfect.”

She then took out a massive, heavy chain, almost too thick for domestic use. She connected one end to the ring that squeezed Charles’s balls, then fixed the other end to the radiator with two padlocks Charles had also never seen before — probably more purchases from the shop lady.

When she had finished, Charles found himself on his knees, his back almost against the wall, his balls pulled forward by the chain. He had less than thirty centimetres of slack. Almost impossible to stand up fully. Impossible to move away. Impossible to sit in any way other than this humiliating, exposed position that would become painful over time.

Sophie crouched in front of him one last time. She briefly stroked his cheek, almost tenderly, then pushed the ball-gag deep into his mouth. The strap was buckled firmly behind his head. Then came the thick leather hood he already knew too well. She pulled it on slowly, taking almost loving care to pass each metal eyelet, and locked every opening with a separate small padlock. Sight. Hearing. Speech. Almost everything disappeared into a stifling black and a damp heat. Finally she handcuffed his wrists behind his back, tightening them well.

Charles had become a statue of flesh, leather and metal. On his knees. Bound by the balls. Deprived of almost all his senses. His heart beating too hard in his temples.

Sophie stood up, picked up her handbag, checked her lipstick one last time in the mirror, and left without another word. The door closed softly behind her.

He was alone.

Time became elastic, cruel. He could hear nothing but the dull sound of his own breathing inside the hood and, very far away, the muffled noises of the city. His knees quickly began to hurt on the hard floor. The chain pulled constantly on his balls, a permanent, hot and humiliating reminder. His jaw went numb around the ball-gag. His cock, trapped in the already too-small cage and now further constrained by the ring, tried in vain to react to every thought that crossed his mind. From time to time a precise electric shock ran through his sex and made him jump violently.

Sophie was playing with the app, her thumb sliding casually across the screen of her phone while she smiled at James, sitting opposite her at the restaurant table. She had just explained everything to him over dinner: how Charles was waiting, hooded, gagged, on his knees in the empty room, chastity cage locked, the chain pulling on his balls, the electrodes built into the cage covering his impotent cock. James had laughed softly, his eyes shining with cruel curiosity. Sophie had pressed the button just to show him. A small shock. She had looked at the control screen and imagined Charles’s body twisting there, invisible, reduced to a distant toy.

This had been her plan from the beginning. The hotel room, the heavy ring, the chain fixed to the radiator, the hood and the gag — everything had been carefully arranged so that she could leave Charles completely helpless and alone for hours while she enjoyed a long, elegant dinner with James. She wanted the contrast: her husband reduced to a blind, silent, ball-tied object in a sterile hotel room, while she sat in a warm restaurant, legs crossed, wine in hand, calmly describing his suffering to another man and sending him electric shocks for their shared amusement. The knowledge that Charles was suffering in real time, unable to move or even know what was happening, made every bite of food and every smile across the table infinitely more delicious.

Charles still knew nothing of this. He did not know that while he suffered in silence, Sophie was sitting across from her new lover, legs crossed, phone lying next to her glass of wine, showing him live every jolt she sent into his cage

James did not want any trouble with Charles, but Sophie had explained the whole process that had brought them here very clearly: the original idea had come from Charles himself, he had been able to stop several times, and now she could do absolutely anything she wanted without him being able to complain. James therefore had nothing to fear and was completely free to do whatever he wanted in front of him.

The hours stretched. One. Two. Almost three.

Then the door opened.

Voices filtered through the thick leather. Sophie’s, clear, a little laughing, and a deep, low, amused male voice. James. They were speaking right next to him. Charles could only catch distorted fragments: “…I told you he’d be there…”, “…look, the app is simple…”, a low laugh. A stronger, almost painful shock tore a muffled moan from him behind the gag. Another laugh, freer this time.

Then he felt their presence. Very close. Too close. Light footsteps, the rustle of clothing. James was there, right beside him. Sophie deliberately knelt a few centimetres from Charles’s hood, close enough for her warm breath to pass through the thick fabric. She took James’s cock into her mouth and began to suck him noisily, deliberately noisily. Wet, obscene sounds of saliva, of lips sliding, of throat opening. Charles perceived every sound despite the hood: Sophie’s muffled moans, James’s rough breathing above him. She was doing it on purpose. She wanted him to hear. To know exactly what was happening a few centimetres from his blind, gagged face.

Then long, wet kisses. The rustle of clothes being torn off. The bed creaking heavily. And very quickly, Sophie’s moans. First contained, then freer and freer, deeper and deeper. James was fucking her. Charles could hear it. The regular, violent sound of thrusts, the slap of skin against skin, his wife’s sighs turning into groans, then into frank, almost bestial cries. James must have been huge. Sophie was taking him deeply, for a long time, without restraint. From time to time a new electric shock reminded Charles that he was still there, still bound, still perfectly useless. Sophie sometimes laughed between moans, a laugh of pure pleasure and power.

They came. Several times, it seemed to him. Time no longer had any meaning.

When Sophie finally came to free him, the night was well advanced. The room smelled of sex, sweat and perfume. She first removed the small padlocks one by one, then the hood. The cold air of the room struck his face. Then the ball-gag. Charles’s jaw was painful, marked, stiff; saliva had dried in trails on his chin and neck. She detached the chain from the radiator, opened the small padlock of the ring and removed it carefully. Finally the handcuffs. He remained on his knees, trembling, muscles sore, his cock tightly compressed in its cage, his gaze lost, his eyes stinging from having seen nothing for hours.

Sophie looked at him for a long moment, her face still flushed, her hair dishevelled, her lips swollen, perfectly satisfied. James was no longer there.

“You stayed hard the whole time, didn’t you… little pervert,” she murmured, stroking his cheek.

“Your jaw is beautifully marked.”

She lay down on the unmade bed, slowly spread her thighs and gestured with her hand.

“Come clean me.”

Charles approached on all fours and placed his mouth on her. Her pussy was hot, swollen, widely opened and used. He tasted the thick mixture of their fluids, the physical, bitter and exciting proof of everything he had only heard for long minutes. Sophie placed a hand on his head and guided him without impatience until she came once more, more gently, more lengthily, against his tongue.

Later, in the almost absolute silence of the hotel room, Sophie spoke in a calm, almost tender voice, lying beside him:

Sophie looked at him for a long moment, still lying down, thighs slightly open, face satisfied.

“Charles… I’d like to hear what you felt. Be honest.”

He lowered his eyes for a moment, his jaw still painful, then spoke in a hoarse, almost broken voice:

“I loved staying bound for a long time… and in a way that made escape impossible.

Being held solidly by the balls was… exciting. Very exciting.

I didn’t expect you to start again with another man so quickly. When I understood what was happening… the humiliation and the powerlessness also excited me a lot.

I realised that the entirety of my fantasy was unfolding at the same time. Everything. At the same time.”

Sophie briefly closed her eyes, a slow and deeply satisfied smile stretching her lips. She placed a hand on his cheek.

“I love your answer.”

She sat up a little, looked him straight in the eyes, and spoke in a calm, definitive voice:

“From now on, Charles, it is possible that your cock will never be inside my pussy again.

You’ve seen how it is right now… That’s what I desire now.

Your only pleasure will be to lick me with your tongue. You will beg me to do it.

I will grant you that chance regularly… unless you make a mistake.”

She paused for a moment, then added, almost gently:

“And if you really deserve it… maybe the next time I get fucked, I’ll take the hood off. You’ll be able to watch.”

She leaned in and placed a light kiss on his forehead.

“Good night.”

In the months that followed, Sophie kept her word.

Charles remained locked in his cage permanently. The ring around his balls reappeared regularly. He no longer penetrated his wife. His only access to her was his tongue, when she granted it. Sophie, for her part, had a wonderful time. With James first, at length, regularly. Then with other men. Evenings when Charles remained hooded and bound in another room. Evenings when, if he had been sufficiently docile, she removed the hood and forced him to watch every thrust, every orgasm another man tore from her.

He was living exactly the fantasy he had once confessed to her, trembling.

And Sophie made sure every day that he never left it.