I heard the door creak open with a soft, ominous click. The cool evening air carried the faint scent of city rain and something far more intoxicating. Moira's perfume mixed with the raw, musky aroma of sweat and sex. I knelt in the dimly lit living room, the plush carpet fibers pressing into my knees, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. My cock strained futilely against the unyielding steel bars of my chastity cage. The metal was warmed by my body heat but still a cruel, biting reminder of my two-week denial. The ache in my swollen balls radiated through me, a throbbing pulse that made every breath a mix of agony and anticipation.
She stepped inside, her heels clicking sharply on the hardwood floor before she kicked them off with a careless flick. Her curvaceous silhouette was outlined by the hallway light: fiery red hair tumbling in wild, sweat-dampened waves over her shoulders, pale skin flushed with post-coital glow and dotted with freckles like scattered stars. Her black dress clung to her like a second skin. The fabric stretched taut over her wide hips, round ass, and full, heaving breasts that jiggled slightly with each step. The deep V-neck plunged daringly low, framing the silver key on its chain. It nestled warmly in the soft, sweat-slicked cleft between her breasts. A taunt that made my mouth go dry.
"Did you miss me, my locked little pet?" she cooed. Her voice was a sultry rasp, thick with satisfaction. The air around her was heavy with the tangy, salty scent of arousal, her thighs glistening under the hem of her dress.
"Yes, Moira," I rasped. My voice trembled. "God, yes."
Her green eyes gleamed with wicked delight as she sauntered closer. The faint rustle of her thigh-high stockings whispered against her skin. She hiked up her dress inch by agonizing inch, revealing the creamy expanse of her thighs. They were marked with faint red imprints from eager hands. Her pussy came into view. It was a swollen, flushed masterpiece, lips puffy and parted, coated in a thick, creamy glaze of cum that dripped in viscous strands down her inner thighs, soaking into the lace tops of her stockings. The sight hit me like a wave: pearly white globs mixed with her own slick juices, the air thickening with the pungent, bitter-sweet smell of other men's seed.
"On your back," she commanded. Her tone was sharp and commanding, sending a shiver down my spine. I complied instantly. The cool floorboards creaked under my weight as I lay flat. She straddled my face. Her warm, heavy thighs enveloped my head like velvet vices. The heat from her core radiated against my skin. The key swung forward on its chain, brushing my forehead with a cold metallic kiss. She lowered herself onto my mouth. Her messy pussy pressed firmly against my lips. The sticky warmth smeared across my chin immediately.
"Lick it all up, Kevin. Savor every drop while I tell you how these two studs turned me into their cum-dump."
My tongue plunged in without hesitation. The first taste exploded on my senses: salty and bitter, thick like cream, mingled with Moira's familiar tangy sweetness and the faint metallic tang of her arousal. It coated my tongue, sliding down my throat as I swallowed greedily. The humiliation made my caged cock twitch and leak pre-cum that cooled against the bars. As the flavors flooded me, my mind drifted back to the first time Moira had come home like this. That was months ago, after her initial foray into hotwifing. I remembered the shock of it. The way she'd straddled me just like now, her pussy glistening with a stranger's load, and commanded me to clean her. Back then, the taste had repulsed me at first: the unfamiliar saltiness, the viscous texture that clung to my palate like an unwelcome intruder, making my stomach churn with a mix of jealousy and disgust. I'd hesitated, gagged even. My face flushed with shame as I forced myself to obey, driven by her insistent grip on my hair and the thrill of her dominance. But over time, through repeated nights of her returning marked by other men, that initial dislike had twisted into something deeper, more addictive. Now, I craved it. The bitter proof of her pleasure, the ultimate act of submission that made my denial all the more exquisite. It was my way of reclaiming her, of turning her infidelity into our shared intimacy. The thought only made me lick harder, hungrier. My body ached with devotion.
She sighed deeply. A throaty moan escaped her lips as she ground her hips. The wet squelch of her folds against my face filled the room.
"It started at that upscale bar downtown," she began. Her breath hitched as my tongue lapped at her entrance. "Dim lights flickered like candle flames. The air was thick with cigar smoke and expensive cologne. I sat alone at the bar. This dress hugged my curves. No panties to get in the way. The key nestled right here," she purred. She cupped her breasts and squeezed them. The soft flesh yielded under her fingers, making the key jingle softly.
"Every eye was on my tits, but I zeroed in on two: Marcus and James. Marcus, tall and blond, with a body carved from marble, broad shoulders straining his shirt. James, dark-haired and brooding, with muscles rippling under his skin, that intense stare that made my pussy clench just looking at him."
My tongue swirled deeper, probing her depths, drawing out more of the viscous cum that clung to her walls. The texture was creamy, almost silky, with a warmth that spoke of recent passion. I could hear the wet smacks of my own licking. I felt her thighs quiver against my ears.
"They noticed me right away, vying for my attention like hungry wolves circling prey," she continued. Her fingers wove into my hair. Her nails scraped my scalp with a delicious sting. "Marcus slid onto the stool next to me first. His knee brushed mine. That cocky grin flashed as he ordered me a drink. His voice was low and smooth, complimenting my hair, my curves. He leaned in close enough for me to smell his cologne, sharp and masculine. James wasn't far behind. He approached from the other side. His hand lightly touched my arm as he introduced himself. His eyes locked on mine with that smoldering intensity. They bantered over me. Each tried to outdo the other. Marcus told a joke that made me laugh. James shared a story about his travels that had me hanging on his words. I played along, flirting back. I touched their arms and let my foot graze their legs under the bar. The tension built. Their rivalry was electric until I decided to drop the bomb. I leaned in, whispering to both, 'I'm married, you know. But my husband's locked away, and tonight... you can both have me.' Their eyes widened, then darkened with lust. The competition turned to alliance as they realized they didn't have to choose."
She rocked harder. Her pussy ground with a slick friction that smeared the mess across my nose and cheeks. The scent overwhelmed me. Musk, salt, and her floral body wash. My balls ached fiercely. The cage bit into my swollen flesh.
"I bought them drinks to seal the deal," she went on. Her voice was laced with amusement. "I flirted like a vixen. I leaned in so they could smell my perfume and feel the heat from my body. I told them more about you, my pathetic husband at home, locked in his tiny cage. They grinned like predators. Marcus slid his hand up my thigh first, under the table. His calloused fingers were rough against my smooth skin. I parted my legs, and he found me dripping. Two fingers plunged in, curling to hit that spot. The wet sounds were muffled by the bar's jazz music. James watched. His breath was hot on my neck. Then he reached over to twist my nipple through the dress. The sharp pinch sent electric jolts straight to my clit."
"We couldn't wait," she gasped. Her voice rose as my tongue flicked her clit, swollen and throbbing under my attention. "We piled into Marcus's car. The leather seats were cool against my ass as I sat in the back with James. He yanked my dress down, exposing my breasts to the passing streetlights. His mouth latched onto my nipple, sucking hard. His teeth grazed with a bite that made me yelp. His fingers, thick and insistent, hiked up my skirt and plunged into my pussy. Three of them stretched me. The squelching sounds echoed in the confined space. I could smell his aftershave, sharp and woody, as he finger-fucked me to a quick, shuddering squirt that soaked the seat."
I moaned into her. Vibrations hummed through her core. My tongue ached from the effort but stayed unrelenting. The cum kept flowing, an endless supply of sensory overload. Taste, smell, the sticky feel on my skin.
"At Marcus's penthouse," she went on. Her hips undulated in a slow, teasing rhythm. "The door slammed shut with a heavy thud, and they pounced. Marcus kissed me fiercely. His tongue tasted of whiskey, invading my mouth while James stripped me from behind. Rough hands peeled the dress off. The fabric whispered down my body. Naked except for stockings and the necklace, I dropped to my knees on the cool marble floor. 'Suck us,' Marcus growled. I unzipped them. Both cocks sprang free, huge and veined. Marcus's thick, eight inches of throbbing meat. James's longer, curved shaft with a bulging head, skin flushed and hot."
Her breath quickened as I sucked a glob of cum from her folds. The bitter burst made me dizzy. "I took Marcus first. My lips stretched around his girth. My tongue swirled the salty pre-cum from his slit. The vein pulsed against my tongue as I bobbed. Saliva dripped in warm trails down his balls. James stroked himself. The slick sound of skin on skin filled the air. Then he pulled my hair. The sharp tug sent tingles down my spine. And switched me to him. I alternated, gagging on one while my hand pumped the other. The room reeked of sweat and lust."
Her thighs clamped tighter. Her body trembled as she neared the edge. "They bent me over the couch. Soft leather stuck to my sweat-slicked skin. Marcus entered first, raw and bare. His cock split me open with a burn that turned to bliss. He pounded hard. Hips slapped against my ass with wet smacks. Balls thwacked my clit like a metronome. James fed me his dick, choking me until drool spilled from my lips. Tears stung my eyes. I came explosively. My pussy clenched like a vice. Juices squirted around his shaft with a hot gush."
My face was a slick mask now. Every sense was consumed: the tangy flood in my mouth, her moans echoing in my ears, the crush of her weight.
"They swapped," she panted, grinding faster. "James took my pussy. He thrust deep. His curve hit my G-spot with every brutal stroke. The sloppy sounds were obscene. Marcus face-fucked me. His balls slapped my chin. The musky scent of his groin overwhelmed me. James came first. He grunted like an animal. Hot ropes of cum erupted inside me, thick and pulsing, spilling out with each withdrawal. Marcus flipped me onto my back. Legs hooked over his shoulders. The position let him plunge deeper. The mixed cum squelched loudly, warm and messy, as he bit my neck. Sharp teeth left marks. And unloaded. His seed jetted in spurts that filled me to overflowing. I shattered again. My body convulsed. Nails raked his back."
With a cry, she climaxed on my tongue. Her juices surged in a warm flood mixed with the last remnants of cum, drenching my face. She rode out the waves, gasping, before lifting off. Her thighs were slick and trembling. Looking down at my devoted, messy face, she smiled. "All clean? Good boy. You've earned a reward."
She reached between her breasts. The key glinted under the light. She unlocked my cage with a soft click. My cock sprang free, rock-hard and veined. Pre-cum beaded at the tip like dew. The sudden freedom made me gasp. The cool air was a shock against my heated, hypersensitive skin. Every nerve ending screamed after weeks of confinement. She straddled my hips. Her warm weight settled over me. Her still-dripping pussy brushed teasingly against my thigh. She wrapped her hand around my shaft. Her soft palm enveloped me with a firm, possessive grip that sent fireworks exploding through my body. "Edge for me," she whispered. Her breath was hot and minty on my ear. Her free hand traced lazy circles on my chest. Nails lightly scratched my nipples. "And remember, don't you dare cum unless I say so."
She started slowly. Her strokes were languid and deliberate, sliding from base to tip with a twist at the head. Her thumb smeared the pre-cum in slick circles that made me buck involuntarily. The sensation was overwhelming. Velvet friction built heat. Her scent still clung to my face as she leaned close. Her breasts brushed my chest. "Feel that, Kevin? All that pent-up need after watching me get filled." She quickened her pace. Her hand pumped faster. The wet schlick of skin on skin filled the room. My balls drew tight as the edge approached. My breaths came in ragged gasps. Hips thrust up into her fist. The coil tightened unbearably. Then she stopped. Fingers clamped like a vice around the base, denying me release. A frustrated groan tore from my throat. My cock twitched helplessly. A single drop of pre-cum oozed out.
"Not yet," she murmured. Her eyes locked on mine, drinking in my desperation. She waited until the urgency faded. My body trembled. Then she started again. Slower this time, building with feather-light touches that made me whine. Her nails grazed the underside of my shaft, tracing veins that pulsed under her fingers. Her other hand cupped my balls, rolling them gently but firmly. The pressure was exquisite torture. "Think about Marcus and James using me. Their cocks stretched me while you waited here." The build-up was slower, more torturous. Her strokes varied. Fast pumps followed by agonizing pauses, edging me closer each time. I begged incoherently. Sweat beaded on my forehead. The room spun with need. Three times she brought me to the brink. My body arched. Muscles strained. Only to squeeze and stop, leaving me panting and denied.
I knew exactly what would happen if I disobeyed and came without permission. The spanking that always followed, that fiery punishment that left my ass throbbing and marked. But now, after being so delightfully frustrated, I accepted what was to come. I wanted to go over the edge, willing myself toward it, accepting the spanking regardless because the release seemed worth it in my haze of need. By the fourth, she'd expertly held me there on those three occasions.
I was so delightfully frustrated that I accepted what was to come. I wanted to go over the edge, willing myself toward it, accepting the spanking regardless because the release seemed worth it in my haze of need. The desperation clawed at me like a living thing. Every fiber of my being screamed for release. My cock throbbed with an intensity that bordered on pain. Veins bulged under her grip. Pre-cum leaked in steady rivulets that slickened her palm and made each stroke a slippery torment. My balls felt like they were about to burst, heavy and tight. The ache radiated up through my groin and into my abdomen, a constant, pulsing pressure that made my toes curl and my fists clench.
Thoughts raced through my mind. Visions of the spanking's sting, the red welts she'd leave, the humiliation of being punished like a naughty boy. But even that knowledge only fueled my recklessness. I needed to cum more than I feared the pain. The build-up had turned me into a desperate animal. Hips bucked wildly. Breaths came in short, ragged sobs as I willed myself closer, teetering on the precipice, ready to tumble over despite everything. But she knew just what I wanted, that deep-down craving for continued frustration. As the orgasm crested inescapably, she let go entirely. My ruined release dribbled out in weak, unsatisfying spurts. The pleasure evaporated into even more frustration despite the emissions.
"Pathetic," she laughed. The sound was cruel and arousing. Before relocking the cage with a decisive snap, the cold metal reclaimed me. My cock still throbbed uselessly inside.
Before I could recover, she flipped me over her lap with surprising strength. My ass was exposed and vulnerable. My caged cock pressed awkwardly against her thigh. "You came without permission," she scolded. Though her voice dripped with playful malice, her hand caressed my cheeks first. Soft, teasing circles that made my skin tingle in anticipation. "Time to pay for that little mess." The first spank landed with a sharp crack. Her palm connected flat across my right cheek. The sting bloomed like fire. Heat spread outward in waves that made me yelp. The sound echoed in the room, a mix of flesh on flesh and my involuntary gasp. She rubbed the spot gently, soothing the burn before delivering the second. Harder, on the left cheek. The impact jolted through me. Skin reddened instantly under her touch.
"Oh, you feel that, don't you?" she purred. Her fingers traced the outline of her handprint. The warmth radiated from my ass like a brand. The third strike came lower, near the crease where ass met thigh. A sensitive spot that made my legs kick slightly. The pain was sharp and electric, mingling with the lingering ache in my balls. She alternated now. Right, left, center. Each spank built in intensity. The rhythm was deliberate: a pause to let the sting sink in, her nails scraping lightly over the heated flesh, drawing out whimpers. By the fifth, my cheeks throbbed. A deep crimson glow was visible even in the dim light. The burn intensified with each layer. "Such a naughty boy, getting hard from cleaning my used pussy," she teased. Her voice was husky as she landed the sixth and seventh in quick succession. The double impact made me squirm against her lap. Friction teased my cage.
She didn't stop at ten. Tonight, she drew it out, savoring my submission. The eighth targeted the upper curve of my ass. Her rings added a metallic bite to the slap. The ninth overlapped previous marks for compounded fire. Sweat slicked my skin. The air filled with the sharp smacks and my muffled cries. Each strike sent jolts straight to my trapped cock. "Count them for me," she commanded on the tenth. Her hand hovered. I stammered "Ten," through gritted teeth. She rewarded. Or punished. With an eleventh, harder than before. The force pushed me forward. Twelve, thirteen. Her palm was now warm from the contact. The sting evolved into a deep, pulsing heat that blurred pain and pleasure. By the fifteenth, my ass was a canvas of red welts, tender and swollen. Every movement amplified the burn. Finally, after twenty deliberate, explicit strikes. Each detailed with rubs, scratches, and taunts. She pushed me off her lap. My cheeks throbbed with every heartbeat. The fiery aftermath was a constant reminder as I knelt before her.
"I'm sorry, Moira," I whispered. My voice was hoarse and trembling. Eyes downcast in submission. "I'm sorry for cumming without your permission. Thank you for punishing me. I needed it."
She smiled down at me, stroking my hair gently. "Good boy. Now, time for bed, my pet."
She reached down and took my hand in hers. Her touch was warm and firm, a gentle pull that urged me to my feet. My legs wobbled slightly from the intensity of it all, but I followed as she led me up the stairs to our bedroom. The house was quiet except for the soft creak of the steps under our feet and the distant hum of the city outside.
In the bedroom, she slipped out of her dress with a casual grace, letting it pool on the floor. Her body glowed in the low lamplight, curves and freckles inviting as ever. She climbed into bed first, patting the space beside her. I joined her, my caged cock aching once more, my ass burning with every shift on the sheets. She pulled me close, turning so we spooned. Her back against my chest, my arm draped over her waist, my caged cock against her cheeks. Her hair tickled my nose, carrying that familiar scent mixed with the lingering traces of her night out. As we settled in, the warmth of her body soothed the edges of my frustration.
I lay there, listening to her breathing slowly, and contemplated how happy I was that we had this. This dynamic, this trust, this wild blend of love and torment that made every moment electric. It wasn't conventional, but it was ours. My heart swelled with a profound, aching gratitude; in her dominance, I found my deepest fulfillment, a love so intense it brought tears to my eyes in the darkness. I wouldn't trade it for anything, not for all the 'ordinary' joys in the world...
