Mark's Grave Mistake

Mark eased the truck off the cracked asphalt, tires crunching gravel between the pines exactly where she had told him. He killed the engine and left the keys in the console like always. Out here, no one would touch them. He was good at following orders. He glanced at the photo wedged in the dash. Sarah beaming, the kids grinning with missing teeth. He felt the familiar twist of shame. They are smiling at a man who is about to dress like a whore and beg to be used. His cock gave a useless throb inside the steel cage he had locked on three days ago, the day Sarah's business trip began. Three days of constant, dull ache. He loved it. He hated that he loved it.

The house was silent when he stepped inside and locked the door behind him. He did not call out. He knew better.

In the mudroom, the small table waited. Black lace panties, sheer thigh-highs, garter belt, push-up bra, four-inch stilettos. A note in red ink, lipstick kiss at the bottom: Wear this. Everything you are wearing goes here. Miss D.

He stripped in seconds. The cool air kissed his shaved skin. He rolled the panties up smooth legs, felt the lace cup his caged cock and balls like a cruel hand. Stockings next, garters snapped tight. Bra stuffed with silicone inserts she had bought him months ago. Finally the heels. Click, click, click on hardwood as he balanced, already humiliated and leaking pre-cum that had nowhere to go.

He caught his reflection in the narrow mirror. Look at you. Toned arms, flat stomach, pretty lingerie hugging a locked dick. Pathetic. The cage bit harder. He whimpered.

In the main room, a blue tarp was spread across the hardwood like a surgical field. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. His pulse hammered. Fear and lust braided together until he could not tell which was winning. On the couch: leather cuffs, a thick penis gag, a pair of black thong panties that were definitely not fresh, and another note.

Shove my dirty panties in your mouth. Then the gag. Shackle ankles. Cuff wrists behind you. Use the third set to hogtie ankles to wrists. Kneel in the center of the tarp. Wait. Miss D.

He stared at the used thong. Dark stain at the crotch. Faint musk of pussy and ass hit his nose even from a foot away. Why the fuck does this make me so fucking hard? Why am I already dripping? I am not gay. I am not. I just… I just need this. He bundled the thong, opened wide, pushed the damp fabric past his teeth until it filled his cheeks. Acrid. Salty. Tang of her cunt and the deeper, dirtier ring of her asshole. His tongue involuntarily pressed against it. Disgusting. Perfect.

The penis gag next. Three thick inches of black silicone. He hesitated. Just a gag. Just silicone. Not real. He forced his jaw open wider, slid it in until the flange pressed against his lips, buckled it brutally tight. Now the dirty panties were trapped behind a fake cock. Every swallow forced the head deeper toward his throat. He gagged once. Drool leaked immediately.

He shuffled to the tarp in the heels, knelt, cuffed his ankles, then wrists behind his back. The third set of cuffs linked them together. Hogtied, helpless, ass presented, caged dick pointing uselessly at the floor. He waited.

Minutes stretched into forever. Then. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Heels on hardwood.

Mistress Danni emerged from the hallway in full fetish regalia: black lace bodysuit sliced open at the crotch, thigh-high lace-up boots with small open toes revealing white-painted toenails, hair pulled into a severe ponytail. Thirty-five and carved from marble. She knew exactly what she did to men. She enjoyed breaking them.

Mark's eyes drank her in. God, she is perfect. This is going to be incredible. She is going to ruin me and I am going to thank her for it.

She circled behind him, checked the cuffs with rapid clicks, tugged until steel bit skin. Satisfied, she stepped in front and sat on the couch, legs crossed, hands resting on leather-clad thighs.

“Mark,” she said softly, almost tenderly. “You have been exquisite this year. Obedient. Eager. Broken in all the right ways. But our time is ending.”

His stomach dropped. What? No. No no no.

She continued, unruffled. “I have arranged a special guest. I think you will appreciate the symmetry.”

He grunted around the gag, panic rising. Footsteps behind him. Another set of heels. A matching boot appeared beside his knee. Then she stepped into view.

Sarah.

His wife. In an identical black lace outfit, hair swept up, makeup dark and vicious. She looked like a goddess of ruin.

Mark's brain short-circuited. She is supposed to be in Chicago. She is supposed to be… oh god oh god oh god.

Sarah smiled down at him, cold and beautiful. “You stupid little sissy bitch. Did you really think I did not know? That I was too dumb to notice you sneaking out every week, coming home smelling like pussy and shame?”

She stepped closer. “I followed you two months ago. Knocked on Danni's door after your session. We talked. We laughed. We fucked.” She sank onto the couch beside Danni. Crossed her legs in perfect mirror of her lover. Then she leaned over and kissed Danni. Slow, deep, tongues sliding, wet sounds filling the room.

Mark's cock strained so violently the cage creaked. This is the hottest thing I have ever seen. My wife. My mistress. Together. Using me. Pre-cum dribbled onto the tarp.

They broke the kiss. Sarah looked down at him, eyes flat. “I hate you, Mark.” The words landed like a blade between ribs. “I stopped loving you a long time ago. You are a pathetic, dickless obstacle to the life I actually want. So we have decided to get rid of you.”

He blinked. Divorce? She is leaving me for…

“In a few months,” Sarah continued, calm as reciting a grocery list, “they will declare you dead. Life insurance pays out. Clean. Simple.”

The world tilted. Dead? They are going to kill me? They are going to fucking kill me? What about the kids? The house? How will they explain this to everyone? I can fight the divorce, I can change, please do not do this to our family.

He thrashed, screaming muffled nonsense around the dildo and dirty panties. Danni laughed. “You think this is a joke? Some lesson to scare you straight? Oh, Mark. You made this so easy for us. All those secret drives, the hidden credit card charges for lingerie and toys. Your browser history full of sissy porn and chastity cages. We have photos, videos from our sessions. The police will think you ran off with some online hookup, ashamed of your perversions. No one will look too hard. You handed us the perfect cover on a silver platter. It is the only option now.”

His mind reeled. They are messing with me. This is extreme roleplay. They will let me go after, beg forgiveness, and I will learn my lesson. Right? Right?

Sarah shook her head. “No, honey. This is real. You are done.”

Danni leaned forward, voice clinical and eager. “Let me explain exactly how you are going to die, little faggot. We will bag your head, seal it tight. Your breaths will get shorter, shallower. Carbon dioxide builds up in your blood, making your lungs burn like fire. Your heart will pound, desperate for oxygen that is not coming. Muscles will spasm, brain will fog. You will panic, thrash until exhaustion hits. Then blackout. Your body shuts down, organs fail one by one. Piss and shit might leak out as everything relaxes in death. We will watch it all, then dispose of you like the trash you are.”

Mark bucked harder, handcuffs rattling, steel digging into wrists and ankles until skin split and blood trickled warm down his hands. He twisted on the tarp, rustling plastic under him, grunting wet, desperate sounds through the gag, sucking on the dildo head involuntarily with each failed scream.

Danni stood, planted one boot on his thigh for leverage, then swung her other heavy thigh-high boot straight into his exposed balls. The impact exploded through him, white-hot agony radiating up his gut, nausea crashing in waves. He howled into the gag, body curling fetal as much as the hogtie allowed, caged cock shriveling in shock.

Sarah moved fast while he gasped and writhed. She grabbed the fat black butt plug from the couch, slathered it with lube. Danni held his ass cheeks apart, and Sarah rammed it in without mercy, twisting as the widest part tore past his resisting ring. Muscle burned, sphincter clamped down hard on the stem, filling him to bursting. Full. Violated. His balls throbbed in rhythm with his racing heart.

Danni retrieved the clear plastic bag and duct tape. Mark thrashed anew, handcuffs clicking wildly, tarp crinkling under his struggles, muffled pleas bubbling out as drool and snot mixed around the penis gag. Sarah held his head steady. Danni pulled the bag over his skull, yanked it down tight, wrapped duct tape around his throat three times. Air gone. Plastic sucked to his face with every panicked inhale. The penis gag filled his mouth. Dirty panties soaked with spit and pre-cum taste. Ass stuffed. Cock caged. Dressed like a cheap whore. Balls swollen and bruised.

Through the distorting plastic he watched Sarah drop to her knees between Danni's spread legs. Danni's hand fisted Sarah's hair. Sarah buried her face in Danni's cunt, licking with obscene hunger. Danni moaned, drove a heel into Sarah's back, ground against her mouth.

Sarah's thoughts swirled as her tongue delved deep into Danni's slick folds, tasting the sweet tang of arousal. Finally free of that limp-dicked loser. His rustling on the tarp is pathetic, like a dying fish flopping. Handcuffs clicking every time he jerks, gagged grunts and whimpers filling the room like some sad porno soundtrack. Danni is moaning above me, yes, right there, eat my pussy you gorgeous slut, make me come while he suffocates. This is everything I wanted, her juices coating my chin, his death throes just background noise.

Mark's lungs burned. Each breath shorter. Plastic clung like a second skin. He sucked involuntarily on the dildo, forcing the head deeper, gagging himself. I cannot believe this is happening. They are really doing it. No, they are messing with me, any second they will rip the bag off and laugh, teach me my lesson. But the air, it is not coming back. Fuck, I am really going to die. Hogtied, plugged, sucking a fake cock while my wife tongue-fucks my mistress. My balls are on fire from that kick, ass clenching around the plug like a vice. Maybe I can cum one last time, please, just one pathetic spurt before it ends.

He resigned to it. No escape. Just this. He focused, grunting louder through the gag, wet gargles echoing. He humped the air pathetically, hips bucking in futile rhythm, caged cock slapping against his thighs. Squeezed his sphincter on the butt plug over and over, feeling it grind against his prostate, milking pre-cum that smeared inside the steel. His eyes locked on Sarah's boots, her back to him as she knelt, ass high, the sharp heels digging into the floor, sexy curves of black leather making his locked dick twitch harder. Then up to Danni's open-toed boots, white-painted toenails peeking out, perfect and mocking as she flexed her foot, grinding Sarah's face deeper. Those nails, so hot, I want to lick them, worship them while I die. Hump harder, squeeze tighter, come on, cum you worthless sissy.

Heart slammed in his ears. Cock strained. So close. So fucking close.

Blackness rolled in from the edges.

Danni watched Mark's body jerk in tiny, dying spasms. Sarah kept licking, face slick with juices, moaning into Danni's pussy. Danni came hard. Back arched, thighs clamping Sarah's head. Right as Mark's chest stopped heaving.

They kissed again, slow and deep, tasting each other while the body in lingerie lay still on the tarp.

No puddle beneath the cage. Not even a drop.

He did not get to come.