Tom sat perfectly still in the chair by the foot of the bed, back straight, hands resting in his lap, thighs pressed together, the stretch of the plug constant and firm, his cock aching uselessly inside its cage.

Sally stood by the window, bathed in the soft amber light from the bedside lamp. Her sheer blouse still clung to her chest, barely containing her lace bra. Her skirt was tight across her hips, and her stockings gleamed faintly under the low light.

She was watching the city skyline, but she wasn’t distracted.

She was preparing.

Then she turned to him, calm and collected, her voice even.

“I want to take things a little further tonight.”

Tom blinked. “Further, Mistress?”

She crossed the room slowly, heels soft on the carpet, until she was standing directly in front of him. Her scent was intoxicating, lingerie, skin, perfume, and arousal.

“Yes,” she said. “Further. No hesitation. No asking questions. Whatever I say… you’ll do.”

Tom nodded. “Yes, Mistress.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “I’ve decided I want to teach you something tonight. Something new. You’re going to help me serve him. Understand?”

Tom’s pulse raced. “Yes, Mistress.”

Sally tilted her head, studying him like an object she was about to make more useful. “Good. Because once you’re involved… there’s no turning back. You’re not just watching anymore.”

He nodded again, his breath catching.

A soft chime sounded from the suite intercom, the bellboy announcing a guest at the elevator. Sally walked over, pressed the door unlock button, and returned to the mirror without saying another word.

Tom could hear his own heartbeat. The cage throbbed. The plug shifted as he shifted.

Then the soft knock.

Sally smoothed her hair, adjusted her blouse just slightly, still revealing enough to be scandalous, and walked to the door.

She opened it.

Phil stood tall in dark jeans and a charcoal shirt, the collar open just enough to hint at muscle and warmth. His smile was calm, eyes falling instantly on Sally.

They didn’t speak at first. He stepped forward, and she met him halfway, arms slipping around his neck.

The kiss was long. Familiar. Deep.

Tom watched from the chair as Sally melted into her lover’s embrace. Her fingers curled in Phil’s shirt. Her body pressed against him like she’d been aching for this moment all day.

When the kiss ended, Sally turned toward Tom, her eyes full of heat and control.

“Come here.”

Tom stood, wobbly.

“Undress him.”

His heart jumped. “Me?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Did I stutter?”

“No, Mistress.”

Phil remained silent, patient, watching.

Tom stepped forward. His fingers shook slightly as he reached for the buttons of Phil’s shirt. He undid them one by one, carefully pulling the fabric apart. Phil’s chest was broad and warm. He smelled like cologne and salt and something heavier, manliness.

Next came the belt. Then the button and zipper. Tom lowered Phil’s jeans slowly, eyes downward. The outline of his cock was already prominent beneath black briefs.

Sally stepped beside them, smiling. “Go on. All the way.”

Tom hooked his fingers in the waistband and pulled them down.

Phil’s cock sprang free, thick, half-hard, heavy.

Tom swallowed hard and stepped back.

Sally knelt slowly on the carpet. “You’ve seen me do this before,” she said. “But tonight, you’re going to learn how.”

Phil sat on the edge of the bed. Sally positioned herself between his legs, her hands gentle, slow, deliberate.

“I always start with my hands,” she said, stroking him. “Long, slow strokes. Make sure he feels worshipped. Not rushed.”

Tom watched, frozen.

Sally looked up at him. “Closer.”

He stepped forward.

“On your knees. Right here.”

Now he was only inches from her. Inches from Phil’s cock. From her mouth.

She ran her tongue along the underside of Phil’s shaft, slow and purposeful.

“I love the weight of it,” she said softly, voice dripping with arousal. “The taste. The way it fills my mouth. I think about this every time I make you sleep alone.”

She took him into her mouth, slowly, inch by inch, until her lips met her fist. Then she pulled back, sucking softly.

Phil groaned quietly, one hand resting on her shoulder.

She paused, turned to Tom.

“Now you.”

His breath caught. “Mistress?”

“I said no hesitation.”

She held the base of Phil’s cock gently, presenting it.

“Just your tongue. Start here.” She pointed to the tip. “Lick him.”

Tom leaned in, face flushed, and did as he was told. His tongue met the soft, warm flesh, slick with her saliva, tinged with her lipstick. He licked gently at first.

Sally guided him. “More pressure. Keep your hands behind your back. Good boys don’t use hands.”

Phil exhaled slowly, shifting slightly as Sally took him in again, now with Tom licking along the shaft.

“See?” she whispered. “It’s not so scary. It’s service. It’s devotion.”

Tom nodded, his lips brushing the skin of Phil’s hip.

She pulled back and let a string of spit fall from her lips to Phil’s cock. “Use your tongue. Clean that.”

Tom obeyed.

Phil watched them both now, silent, but with a smirk that spoke volumes.

Sally turned to Tom, a gleam in her eye. “How does it feel?”

“Strange. But… right.”

“Good,” she said. “Because I’m not finished.”

A Taste of Devotion

Tom knelt at the foot of the bed, caged and plugged, his tongue softly stroking along the base of Phil’s cock while Sally took him deep into her mouth. Her lips slid slowly along the thick shaft, glistening with her own spit and Tom’s shy, reverent licks.

Sally moaned around Phil, then pulled back with a soft pop, stroking him slowly with one hand.

“Look at this cock,” she whispered to Tom, tilting Phil toward him so the full length hung between them. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Tom nodded, dazed, his face flushed. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Thick. Heavy. Smooth. He’s perfect, isn’t he?” she continued, rubbing her thumb over the crown, smearing a bead of precum. “You should be honoured I let you anywhere near him.”

“I am,” Tom whispered.

She smiled. “Good. Because you’re helping me tonight. And I’m so proud of you.”

The words hit him harder than he expected. He shivered. Not from cold, but from the overwhelming warmth of her approval.

She guided Phil back into her mouth, sucking deep and slow while her hand found the back of Tom’s head and gently encouraged him to continue licking along the shaft, over her fingers, under the base.

“You’re doing so well,” she whispered as she paused for breath. “You’re being exactly what I want you to be.”

Phil exhaled slowly, his hands resting on the back of Sally’s head as she bobbed, then paused to stroke again.

“Feel how hard he is for me?” she said softly, rubbing Phil’s cock across Tom’s lips. “This is what a man’s cock should feel like. Solid. Demanding. Needed.”

Tom opened his mouth obediently as she pressed the head to his lips, not forcing, but guiding.

“Just your tongue. That’s it. Clean him for me.”

Tom ran his tongue gently around the swollen crown, tasting the salt of precum, the warmth of Sally’s mouth still clinging to the skin. His cage throbbed, but there was no relief, only the soft ache of submission.

Sally took Phil back into her mouth, now faster, wetter, with purpose. Her cheeks hollowed with each pass, and the sound filled the room: slick, rhythmic, indecent. Tom stayed close, watching every detail from inches away, his face hot, breathing shallow.

“I love how you watch me,” she said breathlessly between strokes. “I love how desperate you are to serve while I give my body to someone who deserves it.”

Phil groaned softly. “Fuck…”

Sally’s hand tightened around him.

“He’s close,” she whispered. “Don’t you want to see it? Don’t you want to watch me swallow every drop?”

“Yes,” Tom said quickly, almost pleading.

“Because you’re not just watching anymore,” she said. “You’re part of this now.”

Her lips sealed around Phil again, bobbing faster, deeper.

Phil tensed. “I’m gonna...”

And then he gasped, hips jerking once, his cock pulsing in her mouth.

Sally didn’t flinch. She took it all, throat flexing, moaning as she swallowed.

Tom watched in awe.

Sally kept sucking softly, milking the last of it, eyes closed. Then she slowly pulled back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

A string of cum still coated her tongue.

She looked at Tom.

“Open.”

He obeyed.

She leaned in and kissed him slow, deep, sharing the taste of Phil’s release across his tongue.

It was warm, salty, foreign.

He trembled.

She moaned softly into his mouth. “Get used to it, baby. That taste belongs to you now, too.”

When she pulled back, his lips were shining with it.

“You were perfect,” she said softly, stroking his cheek. “And I’m going to make sure you remember this night forever.”

Serve Me, Properly

Phil lay back on the bed, one arm behind his head, the other resting across his stomach, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. His skin glowed faintly with sweat. A sheen of saliva still clung to his shaft where Sally had finished him minutes earlier, some of it now dried on Tom’s lips.

Sally lounged at the edge of the bed beside Phil, her legs curled beneath her, her blouse now discarded, her bra straps slipping from her shoulders. The suspender belt and stockings remained, hugging her curves like silk restraints.

She glanced at Phil, then at Tom, who still knelt patiently on the floor.

“I think he’s ready for more,” she said softly. “Aren’t you, baby?”

Phil smiled lazily. “I could be.”

Sally tilted her head toward Tom. “Then let’s get him ready.”

Tom blinked. “Me?”

She nodded. “Mouth on. Don’t stop until he’s hard. Use what I taught you.”

Tom moved closer, crawling between Phil’s legs.

Sally leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Start with your tongue. Use the whole thing, long strokes. Don’t be timid.”

Tom licked gently along the shaft, feeling it twitch under his touch. He kissed the head, suckled the tip, took in the taste of himself and Sally and the remnants of Phil’s last release.

Phil groaned quietly.

“There,” Sally purred. “You feel that? He’s swelling. You’re doing that. My little cocksucker.”

Tom flushed but didn’t stop. He took more of Phil into his mouth, slow and careful.

Sally moved closer, watching over his shoulder.

“Use your tongue on the underside,” she instructed. “That’s his spot. Circle it. Yes, just like that.”

Phil let out a low, satisfied grunt.

Tom could feel him growing, filling his mouth with warm, pulsing weight. He pulled back slightly and licked the shaft with slow reverence, his hands folded neatly behind his back as Sally had taught.

“You’re doing beautifully,” she whispered. “You’ve become so obedient… so eager.”

She brushed his hair back from his face. “And watching you suck his cock… do you know what that does to me?”

Tom glanced up.

“It soaks me,” she said, eyes fierce. “My pussy is dripping, watching you on your knees for him.”

Phil was fully hard now, thick, proud, slick with saliva.

Sally stood, stepping up onto the bed with practiced ease, positioning herself on all fours, ass raised, looking over her shoulder.

“Come here,” she said to Tom. “Bring him to me.”

Tom rose, still on his knees on the mattress, and moved beside Phil, guiding his cock toward Sally’s waiting entrance.

Sally held herself open, fingers parting her folds. She was glistening, wet, warm, aching.

“Slow,” she said. “Slide him in. Show me how careful you can be with something I love.”

Tom guided Phil’s cock to her entrance, trembling slightly, and eased the tip against her. Sally moaned as it slipped inside, inch by inch.

“Oh fuck, yes,” she gasped. “That’s it. That’s what I needed.”

Phil groaned low in his throat, sinking deeper into her, his hands gripping her hips.

Tom watched from inches away, still holding the base, guiding it until she took all of him.

“Now let go,” Sally ordered. “Let him take me.”

Tom released him and sat back on his heels, watching.

Phil began to move slow, deliberate thrusts.

Sally pushed back into him, arching, her moans rising.

Tom couldn’t stop staring. The way Phil’s cock disappeared into her. The way her back arched. The way her stocking seams stretched with every motion.

“Look at me,” she panted. “Look how I fuck. Look what I need.”

Tom nodded, dazed, caged and plugged, throbbing.

“I want you to remember this,” Sally moaned. “Every stroke. Every sound.”

Phil picked up the pace. His hips slapped against her ass, her moans turning into cries.

“I’m so fucking wet,” she gasped. “Because of you. Watching you suck him made me ache.”

Tom whimpered.

She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes locked on his. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For helping me feel this full. This used. This alive.”

She came with a shout, trembling beneath Phil, her body shaking.

Phil didn’t stop.

Tom stayed on his knees, completely still, and completely hers.

Souvenirs

Sally collapsed forward onto the bed, her breath ragged, her body trembling with the last waves of orgasm. Phil groaned behind her, still buried deep, his body draped over hers, chest rising and falling against her back.

Tom remained kneeling at the edge of the bed watching, caged, plugged, obedient. His own need was a distant ache now, dulled beneath the weight of what he’d just done. What he’d helped with.

Phil slowly pulled out, his softening cock wet with Sally’s slick and his own finish. Sally exhaled sharply, her thighs parting slightly, her hips shifting against the bed.

Between her legs, cum leaked freely.

It dripped from her swollen folds, over her thong strap, and down the length of her thighs, coating the tops of her sheer stockings. Thick streaks glistened on the pale seam at the back of her legs, just below the garter clasps.

She didn’t move.

She just looked at Tom.

“Well?”

He crawled forward without a word, mouth open.

“Start with me,” she said softly. “I’m a mess.”

He leaned in and began to lick slow, reverent. The taste was immediate and overwhelming: salt, heat, her arousal, Phil’s release. He licked between her legs, over the crease of her thighs, the lace of her thong, the base of her stocking seams. She moaned softly, twitching beneath him.

“Good boy,” she whispered. “Make me clean.”

He didn’t stop. He licked the insides of her thighs, the back of her knees, all the way down to her ankles—every streak, every spill, every trace of what she’d been filled with.

Phil sat on the edge of the bed, watching silently, casually stroking Sally’s hair.

When Tom finished with her, she turned her head lazily.

“Now him.”

Tom shifted to Phil, mouth already open, and gently took the soft cock between his lips. He sucked softly, cleaning it, tasting the mix of Sally’s body and his own mouth from before.

Phil let him.

When he pulled back, Sally was already sitting up, tugging at the straps of her heels.

“Get these off,” she said.

Tom moved quickly, unclipping the garters, rolling the stockings down her legs, slowly, carefully. The fabric was damp, sticky in places. He folded each one neatly and placed them on a clean towel, his hands trembling.

Sally lay back, legs bare now, eyes half-lidded.

Phil stood, stretching.

“I’ll let myself out,” he said.

Sally pulled him down for one final kiss, deep, grateful, unhurried.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “That was perfect.”

He nodded to Tom with a smirk and left without another word.

The room felt impossibly quiet once the door shut.

Tom sat back on his heels, the cage tight against his skin, the plug still locked inside him.

Sally turned her head and smiled.

“You did everything I asked tonight,” she said. “I’m proud of you.”

Tom flushed. “Thank you, Mistress.”

She reached over and ran her fingers through his hair. “And I think those stockings should stay with you.”

He blinked. “Mistress?”

“They’re ruined,” she said. “Stained. But sentimental.”

She pointed to the towel. “Fold them nicely. We’ll pack them in your bag.”

The Next Morning

Steam curled from the bathroom as Tom stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist. The cage had stayed on through the night. The plug had come out, briefly, only to be cleaned then reinserted before bed, as instructed.

Sally sat on the bed in her robe, sipping a coffee.

“Dry off properly,” she said, eyeing the towel. “We’ve got a drive ahead of us.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

He dried quickly, then stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed.

She smiled and reached for something beside her.

The stockings.

They were folded neatly on the nightstand.

She tossed them to him.

“Put them on.”

Tom hesitated.

“Mistress…”

She raised an eyebrow.

“No questions. On.”

He sat and rolled one stocking up over his leg. The fabric was cool. Damp in places. He could still see faint streaks across the welt. The scent of sex clung to the nylon.

The second stocking slid up next. He clipped both to the spare garter belt she’d set aside for him.

When he stood, legs wrapped in her soiled lingerie, she clapped her hands softly.

“You look delicious.”

He blushed.

“I should have had you wear them last night,” she mused. “Imagine how wet I would’ve been, watching you clean me in those.”

She stood, circled him slowly.

“You’re mine,” she said. “Every step you take today, you’ll feel these clinging to your skin. Soaked in what we did. What I did. What you served.”

He nodded.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Let’s go home."

Her Girl

It started with a box.

Nothing fancy, just a white cardboard gift box with a satin ribbon around it, sitting neatly in the centre of the bed when Tom returned from his shower. He froze when he saw it.

Sally leaned in the doorway behind him, arms crossed, still in her robe.

“Open it.”

Tom looked back at her. “What is it?”

Her smile was calm, almost casual. “Something for Tammy.”

His breath hitched.

She crossed the room, took the box in hand, and placed it in his arms. “Go on.”

He pulled at the ribbon, lifted the lid, and felt his chest tighten.

Inside: a pair of sheer black panties, soft lace at the waistband. Beneath them, folded delicately, were nude stockings with a dark seam up the back. Gio, unmistakably, and a matching suspender belt.

“Where did you get these?” he asked, voice soft.

“I picked them out yesterday,” Sally said. “Had them wrapped at the boutique. I told the salesgirl they were for a friend.”

She stepped closer, voice lower now. “But we both know who they’re really for.”

Tom’s hands trembled as he held the delicate garments.

“I thought we’d start slow,” she said. “Just us. I want to see what my girl looks like.”

“Now?”

“Yes,” she said. “Strip.”

Tom obeyed, slowly removing his shirt, then his trousers. The cage remained locked between his legs, the plug still buried deep from earlier. Sally hadn’t given permission to remove either.

“Good,” she said, circling him. “Now the panties.”

They were soft. Stretchy. Feminine.

He stepped into them and pulled them up, the lace sitting snug against his hips, his caged cock pressed tight against the fabric.

“Beautiful,” Sally murmured. “But not done yet.”

She helped him into the garter belt, fastening the straps with deliberate slowness.

“Four straps, for now,” she said. “We’ll work up to six.”

Then she handed him the stockings.

His hands shook as he rolled one up over his leg, then the other.

Sally knelt in front of him and clipped the garters herself. “These seams have to be perfect. If you’re going to be mine, you’ll look the part.”

She stepped back to admire her work.

Tom stood there, bare chest, panties tight, stockings sheer and gleaming, belt hugging his waist.

She sat on the bed and crossed her legs.

“Turn around.”

He did.

“Again.”

He turned slowly.

Sally’s grin deepened. “You’re gorgeous.”

He swallowed hard. “I feel ridiculous.”

She stood and cupped his chin. “You look delicious. And don’t worry, Tammy will get used to it.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, then leaned into his ear.

“Tomorrow,” she whispered, “we’re going shopping. Back to the boutique.”

Tom’s eyes widened.

“I’m going to have you measured,” she said. “Professionally. And I’m going to tell them exactly what you are.”

His knees almost buckled.

She laughed, delighted. “Oh baby. This is going to be so much fun.”

The Girl Inside

Tammy stood in front of the full-length mirror, arms hanging awkwardly at her sides. The soft black panties hugged her hips, and the garter belt rested snugly against her waist. Her sheer stockings were perfectly in place, seams straight as arrows. Her caged cock pressed awkwardly against the lace. She was still getting used to that part.

Behind her, Sally watched from the bed, legs curled beneath her, chin in hand, eyes glittering with delight.

“You really are such a pretty little thing,” she purred. “I mean, we’re not even trying yet. No wig, no makeup, and you still look like someone I’d want to pin down and make moan.”

Tammy flushed, shifting slightly on her heels, bare feet, for now. Sally had made it clear they’d get to proper footwear later.

“You don’t have to say that,” Tammy said softly.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Sally replied, rising from the bed. “I don’t say anything I don’t mean. You should see your legs. Those stockings love you.”

Tammy looked down at her legs, long, slim, the nylon shimmering faintly in the light. The sight made her heart race. It always had.

Sally stepped behind her, brushing her hands lightly over Tammy’s hips. “You’ve got the figure for it. Small waist, just a hint of curve. It’s subtle. Feminine.”

“I still feel ridiculous,” Tammy admitted.

“Then let me help,” Sally whispered, spinning her gently toward the vanity.

On the dressing table, Sally had laid out a small selection: clear nail polish, a soft coral lip gloss, a spoolie brush, and a pale shimmer for Tammy’s eyelids. Nothing over-the-top, just enough to start with.

She guided Tammy into the chair, then uncapped the polish and took one of her hands gently in her own.

“Let’s start here,” she said. “Clear polish. A girl should always take care of her nails.”

Tammy watched in silence as Sally painted each one with careful, practiced strokes.

“I love that you’re letting me do this,” Sally said softly.

Tammy swallowed. “I think I’ve always wanted it.”

Sally paused and looked up. “Always?”

There was a silence. Then Tammy nodded.

“When I was younger,” she said, voice quiet, “my sister had this drawer of clothes in her room, panties, bras, tights. I used to sneak in when no one was home. Just to feel them. Just to see.”

Sally said nothing. She just held Tammy’s hand a little tighter. “I didn’t even know why I liked it. I just… did. I’d sit in front of her mirror and pretend I was someone else. Someone softer. Prettier.”

“Tammy,” Sally said gently.

Tammy looked up.

“That someone else is still here,” she said. “She’s you.”

Tears prickled at the corners of Tammy’s eyes, but Sally just smiled and blew lightly on the finished nails.

“I wish I could’ve told someone back then,” Tammy whispered.

“Well, you’ve told someone now,” Sally said. “And that girl? She’s not going anywhere. In fact…” She uncapped the lip gloss. “I think she’s just getting started.”

They worked slowly, Sally applying each bit of makeup with flirty precision.

A light shimmer on Tammy’s eyelids, a flick of mascara on naturally long lashes. She brushed the lip gloss across Tammy’s mouth, then stepped back to admire her.

“Look at you,” she whispered. “My sweet girl.”

Tammy turned to the mirror and gasped softly.

It was subtle, but real. Her lips glowed faintly. Her eyes looked wider. Her nails caught the light. And between her legs, her cage strained faintly beneath the lace.

“You’re… beautiful,” she whispered.

Sally kissed her shoulder. “You are.”

Then she grinned. “Now. About heels.”

Tammy turned, wary. “Already?”

Sally laughed. “Relax. We’re starting slow.”

She reached under the bed and pulled out a pair of kitten heels, black, simple, with a strap across the top.

“Two inches,” she said. “Just enough to make your walk a little prettier.”

Tammy took them, hesitating for only a moment before slipping her feet inside.

“Stand up.”

She did.

“Walk for me.”

She took a few steps, awkward, careful, uncertain.

Sally clapped. “Oh, Tammy. We are going to have so much fun.”

They spent the rest of the evening like that. Sally teaching. Tammy trying. And laughing. And occasionally blushing so hard she had to cover her face with her hands.

But the nerves faded. And when Sally finally took her by the waist, kissed her cheek, and whispered, “I’m so proud of you,” Tammy melted into her arms.

And Sally knew, without question, that this part of Tom, of Tammy, was no longer a secret.

It was the beginning of something beautifully, wickedly true.