The house was still, the faint hum of the air conditioning barely cutting through the thick summer heat. Kevin perched on the edge of the couch, his fingers restless against his thigh, eyes flicking to the clock. Moira would walk through the door any second, and the thought sent a pulse of heat through him. The steel chastity cage gripped him tight, its weight a constant reminder of his submission, his desire trapped in unyielding metal. He craved this—her control, her power—but he knew the price of defiance. Days of relentless teasing, her touches just out of reach, or worse, the heavy silence of her disapproval. He didn’t want to resist. He’d grown to hunger for the raw intimacy of tasting her, marked by another, the act binding him to her in ways he’d never imagined.

The door swung open, and Moira stepped in, her presence filling the room like a storm. Her auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the lamplight like molten fire. The black dress hugged her lush curves—full breasts, rounded hips, thighs that begged to be touched. Sheer black stockings clung to her legs, held by delicate suspenders that framed her skin, drawing his gaze. Kevin’s breath hitched, a pang of realization hitting him: she never wore stockings for him, not like this, but she did for her dates.

The thought twisted inside him—part jealousy, part arousal—knowing the stockings gave her lovers easy access to her, just as they allowed him to taste her fully when she returned, slick with another man’s release. His cock strained harder against the cage, the image fueling his desire. Her green eyes pinned him, sharp and commanding, a wicked smile curling her lips. She tossed her leather clutch onto the side table, the thud resonating in Kevin’s chest.

“Kevin,” she said, her voice low, laced with authority. “Strip. I want you on the floor, nothing but your cage.”

His breath caught, his body responding instantly, straining against the steel. Hesitation wasn’t an option—her disapproval would cut deeper than any denial. He stood, hands shaking with need as he shed his clothes, shirt and pants pooling on the floor until only the cage remained, glinting in the dim light. He lowered himself, lying flat, eyes locked on her, heart hammering.

Moira approached, hips swaying, the stockings and suspenders accentuating every movement. The hem of her dress crept up, revealing the tops of her thighs, where the suspenders bit into her skin. She paused above him, straddling his chest, and slid her black lace panties down, the fabric catching briefly on the suspenders before dropping to her ankles. She stepped free, and Kevin’s gaze caught the glint of wetness on her thigh—thick, glistening trails of cum sliding down her skin, stark against the dark stockings. His body ached, the sight setting him ablaze. The stockings, meant for her lover’s ease, now framed her for him, making it effortless to taste the evidence of her night. He adored this, adored her, the way she claimed every part of him.

Her smile sharpened as she caught his stare. “Already aching for it, aren’t you?” she murmured, her voice a silken blade. She lowered herself, knees bending, her slick heat hovering just above his face, the suspenders framing her thighs like a provocative canvas. Her scent enveloped him—rich, musky, laced with the sharp edge of another man’s release. The creamy evidence glistened, dripping slowly, and Kevin’s mind raced, trying to place it. Daniel, the lawyer with the commanding presence, whose intensity left her trembling? Or Marcus, the artist with a sly charm that lingered in her scent? The uncertainty fueled his desire, his tongue itching to taste.

“Lick,” Moira commanded, her tone unyielding.

Kevin knew the stakes—disobedience meant weeks of torment, her body a taunting mirage. But resistance was the furthest thing from his mind. He craved this, the raw act of tasting her after another, the way it grounded him in his devotion, the stockings making it all the easier to clean her. His tongue darted out, meeting her slick folds, and the taste hit him like a wave—her sweet, heady essence tangled with the salty, potent bite of cum. He groaned, lapping at her, chasing every drop, trying to pinpoint the flavor. Daniel’s was thicker, heavier; Marcus's was lighter, almost musky. This was rich, intense—Daniel, he was certain, his mind spinning with images of her surrender to the other man.

Moira’s breath hitched, her fingers weaving into his hair, pulling him closer. “That’s it,” she purred, hips rocking against his mouth. “You love this, don’t you? Tasting him, knowing I’ve been taken while you wait, locked and aching.”

Her words sent a shudder through him, his tongue working harder, teasing her clit, delving deeper. He reveled in the taste, the intimacy of reclaiming her, the stockings a reminder of her lover’s access and his own role. His thoughts drifted, tracing the path that led them here.

---

Five years ago, their marriage was new, their nights filled with fierce but familiar passion. Moira was a vision—her curves, her fiery hair, her restless energy—it all had ensnared Kevin from the start. But he sensed her craving for more, a hunger he wanted to feed. One night, tangled in damp sheets, he’d found the courage to speak.

“What if…” he’d faltered, heart racing, “what if you had all the control?” He’d revealed a small box, a sleek chastity cage inside. Moira’s eyes had sparked with curiosity, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

“You want me to lock you away?” she’d teased, intrigued. “Decide when you feel pleasure?”

He’d nodded, vulnerability fueling his desire. “I want to be yours,” he’d said. “Completely.”

Her smile turned mischievous. “If your cock’s out of play,” she’d said, laughing softly, “maybe I’ll find another to enjoy while you’re caged.” It was a jest, but it struck like lightning. Kevin’s breath caught, not with shock but with a raw, unexpected heat. The thought of her with another, while he was bound to her, set his blood on fire.

Moira caught the shift in his eyes, her gaze sharpening. “You like that idea, don’t you?” she murmured, voice low.

He stammered, words failing him. “I—I don’t know…” His cock betrayed him, hardening under her gaze. Her smile grew wicked, and she slid closer, her hand trailing down his chest, fingers wrapping around him. Her strokes were slow, deliberate, and the mix of her touch and her words overwhelmed him. Within moments, he tensed, a groan escaping as he spilled over her hand, his release quick and intense.

Moira laughed, eyeing the mess with amusement. “That was fast,” she teased. “If you’re locked up, maybe I’ll find someone who can last longer.” Her tone was playful, but it carried a spark of curiosity, testing him.

Kevin’s cheeks burned, arousal and embarrassment swirling together. Her teasing words planted a seed, one that grew in their shared imagination. She wiped her hand on his thigh, then reached for the cage. “Let’s try this,” she said, her voice firm as she fitted the cold metal around him. The lock’s click sent a thrill through him, her control now tangible. Her eyes gleamed with newfound power. “This will be interesting,” she whispered, and Kevin felt their dynamic shift.

Moira embraced the cage, her confidence growing as she wielded her power, teasing him for days, then weeks, her body a constant temptation. The idea of her with another, once a joke, became a shared fantasy, whispered in heated moments. Kevin’s reactions—his flushed skin, his desperate sounds—fueled her curiosity.

One night, as she straddled him, her fingers grazing the cage, she asked, “What if it was real? If I took a lover and came back to you, marked by him? Would you still want me?”

His answer came without hesitation. “Yes,” he breathed. “More than ever.”

Moira’s eyes darkened with desire, and she leaned closer, her breath warm against his skin. “Really?” she murmured, her voice a sultry challenge. She shifted, lowering her pussy to his face, her warmth hovering just above him. Kevin’s heart pounded as he inhaled her scent, musky and intoxicating. His tongue darted out, tasting her, savoring the familiar sweetness of her arousal. As he licked, slow and deliberate, she tilted her head, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Would you lick me like this if I was full of another man’s cum? If I came back to you dripping with him?”

Kevin’s moan vibrated against her, his tongue faltering for a moment as her words sank in. The thought was electric, a mix of jealousy and raw desire that made his caged cock throb. “Yes,” he gasped between licks, his voice muffled but fervent. “I’d want to… I’d need to.”

Her laugh was low, triumphant, and she pressed herself closer, encouraging his worship. “Good boy,” she purred, her fingers tightening in his hair. “Let’s make it real, then.”

From that night, their dynamic deepened. Moira explored her desires, taking Daniel, a commanding lawyer, as her first lover. The first time she returned, her thighs slick with his release, Kevin knelt, overwhelmed by the intensity of his submission. He tasted her, the evidence of her pleasure binding him to her, and found himself addicted to the act, to her power, to their connection.

---

Now, Moira’s hips ground against his face, her moans echoing, her thighs framed by stockings and suspenders trembling as she neared release. The taste of Daniel—confirmed by the heavy, potent flavor—mixed with her sweetness drove Kevin wild, his caged arousal a sweet ache. The stockings, a choice for her lover, made his task easier, her skin accessible for his worship. He licked harder, lost in the raw intimacy.

“Fuck, Kevin,” Moira gasped, gripping his hair. “You’re so good. My perfect, devoted boy.”

He moaned, his tongue teasing her clit, pushing her over the edge. She came with a shuddering cry, her juices flooding his mouth, mingling with Daniel’s traces. Kevin drank her in, pride swelling in his chest. She collapsed forward, hands braced on the floor, breathing hard. After a moment, she slid back, sitting on his chest, her stockings brushing his skin, her eyes glowing with satisfaction.

“You’re incredible,” she whispered, kissing him, tasting herself and Daniel on his lips. “So eager to please. And so good at it.” Her fingers grazed the cage, teasing the metal. “Have you earned a reward tonight?”

Kevin’s heart raced, his body aching. “Please, Moira,” he said, voice raw. “I’ve tried so hard.”

Her smile was sharp but warm as she pulled the key from her clutch. “Let’s see,” she murmured, unlocking the cage. The metal fell away, and Kevin gasped as his cock sprang free, throbbing with need. Moira’s touch sent a jolt through him, her chuckle low and knowing.

She straddled his hips, dress hiked up, stockings and suspenders framing her thighs. She guided him inside her, and Kevin groaned at the feel of her—warm, slick, stretched from earlier. She rode him slowly, hands on his chest, eyes locked on his.

“Feel that?” she teased, voice sultry. “My loose, wet pussy, still dripping from him. Can you tell how much he stretched me?” Her hips moved deliberately, keeping him on edge. “It was Daniel. He took me so hard tonight.”

“I knew it,” Kevin rasped, voice thick. “I tasted him.”

Her laugh was wicked. “My clever boy.” She leaned closer, lips brushing his ear, her movements slow to prolong his torment. “In the restaurant, he told me to slip off my panties. I did, right there, surrounded by people. His fingers found me under the table, teasing my clit until I came, biting my fist to stay quiet. Then he dragged me to the parking lot, parked in a shadowed corner, but anyone could’ve walked by. He didn’t care—he needed me, pinned me to the seat, fucked me deep and fast. When he came, it was so much, filling me. I pulled my panties back on for you, knowing you’d want to taste him.”

Kevin groaned, gripping her hips, fingers brushing the suspenders, his body trembling. The stockings, chosen for her lovers, now aided his worship, and the thought drove him wild. Her words, her rhythm, pushed him to the brink. She slowed, lifting slightly, keeping him teetering. “Not yet,” she whispered. “Feel me, feel what he left.”

Her story continued—Daniel’s hands, her gasps, the thrill of being taken so publicly. Each word was a spark, igniting his desire. Finally, she leaned down, lips brushing his. “You’ve been perfect. Cum for me. Now.”

Kevin’s body bucked, a raw moan tearing free as he spilled inside her, the release shattering him. Moira rode him through it, her moans blending with his, her body claiming every drop.

She collapsed onto him, stockings soft against his skin, breath warm on his neck. “You’re mine,” she murmured, kissing him softly. “My perfect husband.”

Kevin smiled, spent, heart full. “I’m the luckiest man,” he whispered. “I love you, Moira. I love this.”

Her eyes softened, but her smile was wicked. “I know,” she said, reaching for the cage. “But we can’t have you roaming free, can we?” She fitted the metal back around him, the lock clicking shut, sealing him in her control. “You’re mine, locked up and perfect.”

Kevin’s body stirred at her words, the cage’s weight a promise of more.