Tom’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

Sally’s voice still echoed in his ears, “Now drive faster.” And he had. Not dangerously, but quickly, heart pounding, cock straining against his trousers, plug still waiting in the suitcase beside him like a loaded promise.

She sat beside him, legs crossed, skirt hiked just enough to reveal the black garter strap kissing the bare skin above her stockings. One hand rested in her lap, the other toyed idly with the strap of her bra beneath her sheer blouse. She hadn’t worn panties. Not since the boutique. Not since Phil had confirmed tonight’s plans.

The ride to the hotel felt like it took an hour, though it was barely fifteen minutes.

When they pulled up to the Étoile Regency, a sleek woman in black uniform greeted them at the curb.

“Good evening,” she said, eyeing the car approvingly. “Checking in?”

“Yes,” Sally said sweetly. “We’ve got a suite booked. My husband will handle everything.”

The valet’s eyes flicked to Tom as he stepped out, circling the car to open Sally’s door. Her gaze lingered for just a moment longer than necessary.

Tom flushed.

Sally exited slowly, legs uncrossing, heels hitting the pavement like punctuation marks. As she stood, her coat shifted, revealing a flash of stocking top. She didn’t fix it.

The valet handed Tom a ticket and winked. “Enjoy your evening.”

Sally leaned into his side, her lips brushing his ear. “She knows.”

Tom swallowed hard and wheeled the suitcase toward the grand glass doors.

Inside, the lobby was quiet and cool. Jazz played low over the speakers. A pair of front desk clerks stood behind the counter, both women, one in her twenties, one slightly older.

Sally walked straight to them, letting her heels echo against the polished floor.

“Good evening,” said the older woman, her name tag reading Elise. “Welcome to the Étoile. Do you have a reservation?”

“Langford. Two-bedroom suite, high floor,” Sally replied.

Elise typed briskly. “Ah yes, we have you in 1416. Corner view. Two keys?”

Sally gave a soft laugh. “Just one. He won’t need his own room key.”

Tom, standing slightly behind her, tried not to react. The younger woman behind the counter glanced at him, then back to Sally, eyes full of quiet amusement.

Sally continued, cool and calm. “We’ll also need extra towels. And perhaps another ice bucket.”

“Certainly,” Elise said with a knowing smile. “Would you like anything else prepared?”

Sally looked back at Tom. “Should we ask for tissues too, darling? Or will you manage with just your tongue tonight?”

Tom’s ears burned.

The younger clerk choked slightly behind her hand. Elise didn’t miss a beat.

“We’ll have everything delivered shortly,” she said smoothly, handing over a single key card.

Sally took it with a smile. “You’ve been wonderful.”

As they walked toward the elevators, Tom whispered, “You humiliated me.”

She slipped her hand into his and squeezed. “I know. And you loved it.”

The elevator ride was quiet, save for the soft hum of music. Tom stared at the numbers ticking upward. His heart beat in his throat.

Sally leaned against the mirror, watching him. “Still hard?”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t even touched you.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

The elevator dinged. Fourteenth floor.

Suite 1416 was perfect.

Spacious. Elegant. Soft lighting. Champagne-colored walls. A king-size bed in the master. A smaller bed tucked away in the secondary room.

She dropped her coat on a chair and walked to the windows, taking in the view. Her heels clicked across the tile. She hadn’t bothered fixing her outfit since the car.

Her blouse still clung to her chest, the outline of her black bra clear beneath it. Her garter belt peeked out with every movement, the straps taut, her Gio seams still perfectly aligned.

Tom set the suitcase down and began unpacking.

Lingerie. Lube. The cage. The plug. The aftercare towel. Everything folded and arranged.

Sally walked behind him, trailing her fingers down his back.

“I want to be perfect when he arrives,” she murmured. “You’re going to help.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“First the cage.”

Tom hesitated. “Now?”

“Now,” she said firmly.

He lowered his trousers and briefs, revealing the full, throbbing outline of his arousal.

Sally watched with lazy amusement. “Still hopelessly desperate.”

He tried to soften enough to fit the cage. It took effort. She waited patiently, watching, then slid the ring around him

herself. When the final piece clicked into place, she snapped the lock shut.

“There,” she said softly. “That’s better.”

The pressure was immediate. His cock pulsed uselessly against the unyielding plastic.

“Now the plug.”

She retrieved it herself, black silicone, glistening with fresh lube and held it out.

Tom bent over the bed, face flushed.

She pressed it in slowly, steadily.

When it seated with a soft pop, she ran her hand over the small jewel at the base.

“Lovely,” she whispered. “Now get my stockings straight. I want to look immaculate when he walks through that door.”

Tom knelt on the carpet behind Sally, carefully running his fingers down the seam of her stocking. The sheer nude fabric hugged her legs with perfect tension, the dark seam like an arrow guiding his eyes, and his purpose.

“Still straight?” she asked, not turning her head.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good. If they’re crooked when Phil arrives, I won't let you watch.”

His cock throbbed helplessly inside its cage.

He moved to the other leg, checking the clips on her suspender belt, making sure each one was aligned. His hands shook slightly, half from the strain of the plug, half from the raw ache of arousal.

“Have you made up the bed?” she asked, voice casual.

“I will now.”

“Do it now.”

He rose slowly, each step reminding him of the pressure inside him. He pulled the duvet back neatly, fluffed the pillows, and placed a fresh towel, folded in thirds, at the foot of the bed. He’d learned that trick after another encounter. It helped with cleanup. Not that Sally ever let him miss a drop.

She walked past him as he worked, her heels clicking against the floor. Her blouse was still unbuttoned at the top, just enough to show her lace bra. The glint of the suspender clasp flashed with every step.

He couldn’t stop watching her.

She turned suddenly, catching his gaze.

“Face the window. Hands behind your back.”

He obeyed instantly.

She walked behind him, her breath warm on his neck.

“I can see the outline of your cage through your trousers,” she murmured. “Do you know how cute you look?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She ran a finger down his back, over the waistband, then tugged slightly at the plug’s base. He gasped.

“You’ll wear that the entire time My lover is here. No bathroom breaks. No excuses.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She pressed her lips to his ear. “And when I let him finish inside me, you’ll beg to clean me, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Louder.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She smiled and stepped away.

Then: a knock at the door.

Room service.

Sally’s eyes lit up.

“Oh good,” she said. “Stand still.”

She straightened her blouse just enough to cover her bra, but not the garter flashes peeking out from under her skirt. Then she smoothed her hair back, glanced at the mirror, and gave Tom one last look.

“Don’t speak unless spoken to.”

Then she opened the door.

A young woman stood outside, mid-twenties, sharp bob, discreet name tag that read Isla. She wheeled in a tray with a large ice bucket, several folded white towels, and a small arrangement of fruit.

“Fresh ice and extra towels, as requested,” Isla said, her voice crisp and polite.

Sally stepped aside. “Come in.”

Tom kept his back to the window, hands still behind him. He could hear Isla’s heels clicking as she moved across the suite.

“Just over there,” Sally said, gesturing toward the table near the minibar.

Isla set the tray down and straightened up.

“Will there be anything else?”

Sally glanced at Tom and grinned. “What do you think? Do we need anything else, darling?”

Tom stayed silent.

Isla looked between them, clearly sensing something unusual. Her gaze lingered on Tom, then dropped slightly, maybe catching the faint bulge of the cage, or maybe just reading his posture.

Sally took a slow step forward. “Actually, could you fetch us another glass? We have a guest arriving shortly. My husband will be serving us both.”

Isla blinked. “Of course. Right away.”

Sally smiled sweetly. “Thank you. You’ve been lovely.”

As the door closed behind her, Sally turned back to Tom with a devilish smirk.

“She was trying not to look, but she saw your little predicament. Think she wonders what it’s like to be married to a man who carries the bags and stays caged while someone else fucks his wife?”

Tom swallowed hard. “Probably.”

Sally stepped up behind him again, pressing her body against his back.

“She saw the towel on the bed, too. Probably assumed I was going to get fucked silly.” A pause. “And she was right.”

Tom let out a shaky breath.

Sally walked back to the bed and picked up the black remote for the lamp. She dimmed the lights slightly, just enough to throw the corners into soft shadow.

“How do I look?”

Tom turned.

She stood with one heel planted slightly forward, blouse sheer in the glow, the lace of her bra visible beneath. Her skirt hugged her hips and ended just high enough to reveal the suspenders, the seam of her stockings trailing up into mystery.

“You’re perfect,” he said softly.

“Of course I am.”

Another knock.

Isla again. This time with a single glass on a silver tray.

She stepped inside, keeping her eyes mostly on Sally.

“Here you are.”

Sally took the glass and set it down gently.

“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”

Isla gave a small smile. “Let us know if you need anything else.”

Sally’s voice was pure velvet. “I’m sure we will.”

When the door shut, she turned to Tom.

“I hope you’re ready,” she said. “Because I’m about to give him everything, and you’re going to sit there like a good little thing and watch me disappear into someone else’s arms.”

Tom nodded, caged and silent.

And then she said it:

“Go sit in the chair. Right there. I want you in place when he walks in.”