Sally and David

She unlocked the handcuffs from the chair. My wrists were raw. She untied my legs. The rubber penis gag stayed lodged in my mouth.  She pulled me up, her grip iron on my bicep.

“On the bed," she commanded.

I stumbled across the bedroom. She pushed me onto the mattress, face-up. The handcuffs snap closed around my wrists, securing me to the headboard. Another pair for my ankles. Spread-eagle. She unbuckled the gag. The rubber cock slid out, slick with spit. I gasped, tried to speak—

‘Zap’. The electric collar fired. Pain lanced through my neck. She tutted at my stupidity. 

She pulled out a thick, padded leather blindfold and secured it over my eyes.

"Listen carefully," she said, her voice close to my ear. "You're never going to see my pussy again. Never going to see your own cock when it's hard. Every time I use you to service me, you'll wear this. Every time I unlock your cage to give you relief, you'll wear this. You will feel, taste, smell, hear—but you will not see. Not ever again.”

She ran a finger down my chest to the cage locked around my cock. She tapped it. The metal is cold.

"This is your world now.”

She climbed onto the bed, straddled my head. I could smell her—wet, aroused. She lowered herself onto my mouth.

"Lick," she commanded

I obeyed. My tongue found her clit, swollen and stiff. She ground against my face, using me. I taste her, smell her, feel her thighs tighten around my head. She came quickly, shuddering, her juices coating my face.

She climbed off. I hear keys. Then the cage unlocks. My cock sprang free, stiff and aching.

"Feel that?" she said, her hand wrapping around my shaft. She stroked me twice, three times. I moan. Then she stopped. I heard her pick something up from the nightstand..

"Open your mouth."

I hesitated too long, Zap. My jaw unlocks in a spasm.

She tipped the condom, and the thick, room-temperature slime slid onto my tongue. It was bitter, alkaline, foreign. Not mine.  Mike’s, I choked, but she pinched my nose until I swallowed.

"Good boy," she said, voice clinical. "That's how you'll take everything from now on."

She shoved the rubber cock back in before I could close my mouth, buckling it tight. The taste lingers, mixing with the rubber.

Her hand wrapped around the shaft of my cock, squeezing just hard enough to hurt.

"Mike's cock was twice this thick," she whispered, her thumb smearing precum over the head. "He stretched me so good. I came three times just from his size."

Her other hand cupped my balls, rolling them roughly. "These are so full. So desperate. He emptied himself inside me. Filled me up like you never could."

She leaned down, her mouth hot on my chest. She kissed along my collarbone, then bit down hard on my pec. I cried out into the gag, the rubber cock muffling the sound. She bit again, leaving marks, her hand stroking me faster.

"You're so easy," she said, her breath against my skin. "So pathetic. He could have fucked me for an hour. Made me scream. And you're going to cum in two minutes just from hearing about it."

She was right. Her hand is expert, stroking me with just the right pressure, her thumb rubbing the sensitive spot under the head. I was already on the edge.

"Go on," she says, voice cruel. "Cum for me. Show me how little control you have."

I explode. Ropes of cum shot onto my stomach, my chest, some hitting my chin. She didn’t stop stroking until I was twitching, oversensitive, and whimpering.

She undid the gag. The rubber cock slid out, slick with spit.

"Open," she said.

I obeyed. She scooped up the cooling cum from my stomach, two fingers full, and pushed it into my mouth. The taste is salty, bitter, humiliating. I tried to turn my head, but she grabbed my jaw and forced it closed.

"Swallow."

I do. It slid down my throat, thick and foreign.

"Again."

She scooped more from my chest this time and fed it to me. Then from my chin. She didn’t stop until every drop was gone, until I was swallowing my own load while she watched with cold eyes.

"Good boy," she said, wiping her fingers on my cheek. She shoved the rubber cock back in, buckling it tight. The taste of my own cum mixed with the rubber a permanent reminder.

The door closed. I'm left handcuffed, gagged, tasting myself, her words echoing in my head.

‘ Pathetic. Little. Control.’ 

I wake to ice on my cock. She's sitting on the edge of the bed, and I heard a washcloth being wrung out from a bowl of water so cold I can hear the ice cubes clinking against the metal. The blindfold is still on, and has been on for hours. My cock, which had been half-hard from dreams, shrivels instantly under the freezing cloth.

. She wipes me down thoroughly, the icy fabric scrubbing away every trace of the earlier mess. The cold is painful, a deep ache that radiates up into my balls, ensuring I stay soft.

She set the bowl aside and picked up a tube of cream. The cap unscrews with a small click. She squeezed a dollop onto her fingers and applied it to my cock and balls with the precision of a nurse dressing a wound. It's medicated, tingling, designed to soothe, but in this context, it feels like another layer of control, another message that my body is hers to maintain.

"There," she said, satisfied. "All clean and soft. Like a baby."

I heard the cage before I felt it, the small click of the lock mechanism as she opened it, the cold metal rings as she fit them around my balls. She slid the cage over my flaccid cock, and the lock snapped shut with a finality that echoed in my chest. The blindfold stayed on throughout. I never see her hands, never saw my own cock being caged. I only feel it.

"Good," she said, tapping the cage once it's secure. The sound is muffled now, trapped. "Now you can sleep properly. No more accidents.”

The handcuffs were unlocked, and the blindfold was taken away. I blinked at the onslaught of light.  She stood, picked up the bowl and washcloth. At the door, she paused. I noticed the iPad had gone from its perch.

“Come downstairs after you’ve tidied up this room. We are going to have a conversation about our future.” 

She left and closed the door. I removed the gag and threw it on the bed, and sat with my head in my hands for a while. I felt she was close to breaking me; I had to hold on.

Later, I found her in the lounge, draped across the sofa in black silk that does nothing to hide her body. The crop rested across her thighs. She was tapping it against her palm as I entered, a steady rhythm that made my stomach clench.

"Knees," she said, not looking up from her phone.

I dropped to my knees on the same spot where Mike was fucking my wife a few hours earlier. 

She stood and stepped over to me, the crop trailing along my shoulder and down my back. She stopped when her feet were inches from my face. They're bare, toenails painted red.

"Things are changing," she said, her voice flat. "I've been too lenient. Too soft."

She lifted her foot. I didn't need to be told. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to the top of her foot. The skin was warm and soft. I kissed it again, lower, near her toes.

"Good," she said. "That's your new greeting. Every time I leave for work. Every time I come home. Every time I enter a room you're in. You drop. You kiss. You wait for permission to rise."

The crop tapped my shoulder. “ No more of this waiting for me to point. I let you play your little games, but that stops now. Failure will be punished. Today was just a taste of what I can do ."

She lifted her other foot. I kissed it, my lips brushing the arch.

"Look at me."

I tilted my head up. She was smiling, but it was not warm. It's the smile of someone who owns something completely.

She stepped back, sat down, and crossed her legs. She pointed the crop toward the floor .

"Again," she said. "Slower. Like you mean it."

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to the carpet in front of her feet. She laughed, soft and cruel.

"That's better.