The door swung inward with a slow creak, warm air spilling over Pat’s bare skin. The maid’s grip on the leash tightened, a silent command pulling him forward. His blindfolded world tilted as he stepped over the threshold, the plug shifting inside him with each cautious movement as he was led further into the room.

A hand—cool, firm—pressed between his shoulder blades, urging him to sit down. The chair’s leather groaned beneath him as he sank into it, the plug’s weight settling deeper.

The maid’s fingers brushed his wrists, the cuffs clicking open—just for a breath—before cold metal snapped around each wrist again, locking his hands to the armrests. His pulse jumped as she traced a fingernail down his inner arm, her touch deliberate, teasing.

Her hands slid down his calves, tapping just above the knees, telling him to spread them wider. Another set of cuffs clamped around his ankles, spreading him obscenely.

Pat tested the restraints—no give. His breath hitched as the maid’s palm skimmed up his inner thigh, stopping just shy of the cage. A soft chuckle escaped her as she stepped away.

But the maid’s fingers might as well have been ghosts—Pat’s world had narrowed to the sound of a moan he heard, raw and familiar, cutting through the hum of the room like a blade.

Laura.

His spine locked. The plug shifted again, but he barely felt it. Another gasp, higher this time, broken by a sharp inhale—her tell. The one she made when someone’s teeth grazed her nipple just right. His stomach twisted. Somewhere in this room, she was unravelling for another man’s hands, another man’s mouth, another man’s—

A wet slap of skin on skin. His cock throbbed against the cage, traitorous, aching. The bedframe—was that a bedframe?—creaked in rhythm, steady, relentless. Pat's head snapped toward the sounds—Laura’s wet gasps, the obscene slap of skin. His chest heaved, the plug buried deep inside him twitching with every ragged breath.

Laura’s back arched off the mattress as Jake drove into her, his hips slapping against her thighs with a rhythm that left no room for thought. She didn’t care about the noise—let Pat hear. Let him know.

Her legs locked around Jake’s waist, heels digging into the small of his back, pulling him deeper. The stretch of him was obscene, the way he filled her in a way Pat never could. A whimper clawed up her throat as his cock dragged over that spot inside her, the one that made her vision whiten at the edges.

“Fuck—right there—” Her voice broke, the words dissolving into a moan as he obeyed, grinding down on her with a growl. His breath was hot against her neck, his teeth grazing her collarbone before he bit down just hard enough to make her gasp.

She twisted her head, catching a glimpse of the chair in the corner—Pat’s blindfolded silhouette, his chest rising and falling too fast, his bound wrists straining against the armrests. A flicker of something dark and delicious curled in her gut. Good. Let him listen.

Jake’s hand tangled in her hair, yanking her focus back to him. “Eyes on me.” His voice was rough, commanding, and she obeyed without hesitation, her lips parting as he fucked her harder, his cock swelling inside her.

“You like that, don’t you, bitch?” His thumb pressed against her clit, circling just enough to make her hips jerk.

She didn’t answer—couldn’t. Her body was too busy clenching around him, her breath coming in sharp, broken gasps. The sounds filling the room were filthy: the slick slide of his cock, the wet slap of skin, her own desperate whines. Pat’s muffled groan cut through it all, but she barely registered it. Nothing mattered but the way Jake’s thighs tensed, the way his grip on her hip bruised, the way his cock hit that perfect, ruinous angle—

The mirror across the room caught Laura’s gaze—her own reflection staring back, flushed and wanton. Her lips were parted, swollen from Jake’s kisses, her hair a wild tangle against the pillows. The way her body moved beneath him, arching, taking every brutal thrust—it was her, but it wasn’t. This version of herself was unhinged, feral, a woman who didn’t just want this but needed it.

Jake’s hand tightened around her throat, just enough to make her pulse spike. “Look at you,” he growled, his voice rough with effort. “Taking my cock like a good. Little. whore.” His cock slammed home with every word.

Her eyes flicked back to the mirror—her nipples hard, her skin glistening with sweat, her thighs spread obscenely wide. She looked used. And god, she loved it.

The word whore echoed in her skull, hot and heavy. Yes. That’s what she was. Jake's whore. That’s all she needed to be.

Laura forced her eyes open, her lashes fluttering against the sweat slicking her temples. She had to try. Had to show him she could be a good whore for him, worth her money. Her hands slid up his arms, grabbing into his biceps as she arched into his thrusts, her body moving with his, for him.

But then his cock dragged against that spot inside her again, and her thoughts dissolved into static. Her back bowed off the mattress, a broken moan tearing from her throat. Her fingers clawed at his skin, her body clenching around him, milking him without permission.

“Fuck—” Jake’s voice was rough, strained. His free hand slammed against the headboard, his rhythm stuttering as her cunt pulsed around him. “You’re such a—ngh—such a useless little cumdump, aren’t you?”

Her vision whited out. Yes. That’s all she was. All she wanted to be. A scream tore from her throat as the orgasm hit her like a freight train. Her cunt clenched violently around Jake’s cock as wave after wave of pleasure wrecked her, leaving her gasping, drowning in it.

----

Pats stomach lurched as Laura’s cry tore through the room, raw and unravelled, the sound of her coming undone for… him. Not for Pat. But for a stranger.

His fingers twisted in the armrests, the leather creaking under his grip, but to no avail. His restraints were merciless, a cruel reminder of his place. Bound. Mute. Blind. Useless.

Jake’s groan followed—deep, satisfied—as his hips stuttered against Laura’s thighs. The bedframe groaned in protest, the rhythm slowing, then stopping. Pat’s pulse hammered in his throat, his cock throbbing against the cage, trapped and betraying him.

Silence pressed in, thick as the sweat cooling on Pat’s skin. Laura’s breath hitched—once, twice—before evening out, slow and spent. Jake’s weight shifted on the mattress, the springs whining under him.

Pat’s ears strained, catching the slick sound of Jake pulling free, the wet slap of skin parting. His stomach twisted. That sound. The one that should’ve been his.

Laura’s breathless laugh, husky and spent. “God, you fuck like a man.”

Pat’s teeth clenched around the gag. His nails bit into his palms, the pain grounding him. Don’t think. Don’t—

The mattress dipped. Footsteps. The rustle of fabric—Jake dressing? Is Laura leaving him again? Pat’s chest burned. He wanted to beg. Wanted to scream. Wanted to disappear.

Then Laura’s voice, closer now, dripping with satisfaction. “You hear that, baby?” Her fingers trailed down his chest, pinching his nipples, her touch light, possessive. The plug twitched inside him as she leaned in, cupping his cage in her palm, her breath hot against his ear.

“You hear how good I am for him?” Her lips brushed his jaw, her scent—sweat, sex, him—filling Pat’s nose. “How wet I get when a real man fucks me like a cheap whore?”

His cock jerked the cage in her grip, the metal biting into him. A whimper escaped his throat, muffled by the gag.

Laura’s laugh was a dark purr. “That’s right. You love it.” Her fingers wrapped around his balls, lightly crushing them. “Love hearing your wife take what you can’t give her.”

Pat took a sharp breath, the sudden pain unexpected.

“Poor thing.” Her fingers traced the cage’s outline, her touch maddening. “All locked up while I’m dripping for him.”

Laura’s grip loosened, her fingers sliding from his cage to curl around the back of Pat’s neck. She pulled him close, their foreheads nearly touching, her breath hot and ragged against his lips.

“You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice rough with spent lust. “Every quivering, trembling inch of you.”

Laura’s grip tightened, her nails digging into the nape of Pat’s neck.

“But right now?” Her voice dropped, rough and unapologetic. “I’m his.”

Pat’s breath hitched, his body stiffening under her touch.

She didn’t let go. “His whore. His slut.” Her free hand slid down his chest, fingers tracing the cage again, slow and deliberate. “And you’re going to sit there like a good little cuck, aren’t you? Listen to me fuck him.”

A shudder ran through Pat, his muscles locking. The gag choked off any possible protest.

Laura’s lips brushed his ear, her words a venomous caress. “Because that’s what you want, isn’t it?” Her fingers squeezed his cage, just shy of pain. “To know I’m getting what you can’t give me.”

Laura’s grip didn’t waver. “Well?”

Pat’s breath came fast, shallow. The gag dug into the corners of his mouth, the leather damp with spit. His pulse roared in his ears, but beneath it—beneath the shame, the ache, the need—was the truth. The one he’d never voice out loud. The one he feared and craved.

His chin dipped. Once. Twice. A jerk of humiliation and surrender. A sign of submission, acceptance—and love.

Laura’s smile was slow, triumphant. “Good boy.”

She didn’t let go. Didn’t pull back. Just held him there, her thumb brushing his jaw, her fingers still curled possessively around his cage. The metal warmed under her touch, his trapped cock throbbing in time with his pulse, leaking precum.

Laura’s breath softened against his skin. The cruel edge in her voice melted, replaced by something warmer, tender. Her fingers slid from his cage, tracing the line of his jaw before threading into his hair, her touch almost reverent.

“My sweet, good boy,” she murmured.

Pat stiffened, unsure—until her lips pressed to his forehead, lingering. His pulse stuttered, the kiss so at odds with the cruelty from moments before. His breath hitched, the gag digging into his cheek as he leaned into her touch, desperate for more.

Laura’s thumb brushed his temple, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Pat’s throat tightened. The weight of her words settled over him, heavier than the restraints, heavier than the shame.

“Most men wouldn’t dare.” Her fingers tightened in his hair, just shy of pain. “Wouldn’t let their wife be this free. This herself.”

Pat’s chest ached. The blindfold trapped the sting in his eyes, the gag swallowed his need to speak, to promise her anything, everything.

"I love you, my little cucky", Laura whispered in his ear.

His breath shuddered, the words hitting him like a physical blow. No one had ever seen him like this. No one had ever known him like she did—the shame, the need, the twisted, desperate love that bound him to her as much as the cuffs did.

Pat’s chin trembled. The blindfold couldn’t hide the way his body leaned into hers, the way his breath hitched, broken.

"Thank you, my love," Laura whispered.

The words hung between them, heavy and unbreakable. Pat’s fingers twisted in the armrests, his body straining toward her, bound and blind and hers.

Laura’s finger breath hitched as Jake’s hands found her hips. She didn’t pull away. Didn’t tell him to stop.

Then Jake pressed against her, his cock sliding home in one smooth thrust. Laura gasped, her fingers digging into Pat’s collarbone as she braced herself, her weight shifting forward, crushing Pat into the chair. The leather groaned under them, the plug inside Pat shifting with the pressure, his breath coming fast and ragged through the gag.

“Fuck,” Laura breathed, her voice rough, her nails biting into his skin. “Just like that.”

Jake’s hands gripped her hips, his rhythm slow at first, deliberate. Each thrust rocked Laura against Pat, her breath hot against his neck, her body moving with Jake’s, her heat seeping into Pat’s skin. Her tits swung against Pat', their gentle slaps in his face a reminder of his situation. The cage dug into him, his trapped cock throbbing in time with their movements, his body betraying him.

Laura’s lips found his ear, her voice a ragged whisper. “You feel that, baby?” Her hips rolled back, meeting Jake’s thrust, her fingers tightening on Pat’s collarbone. “Feel how good he is?”

Pat’s breath hitched, his body tensing under hers, the gag swallowing his need to speak, to beg. The blindfold trapped the sting in his eyes, the shame burning through him as Jake’s pace quickened, his breath sharp, his grip on Laura’s hips bruising.

“God, you’re so tight,” Jake groaned, his voice rough, his thrusts growing harder, deeper.

Laura’s laugh was breathless. “That’s your fault, my love,” she gasped at Pat, her body moving with Jake’s, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You could have scratched that itch of mine…”

Pat’s muscles locked, his body arching to meet hers, the plug moving inside him with every movement, rubbing against his prostate. His desperation filled the room, the air thick with sweat and sex and something darker, something that coiled tight in Pat’s gut.

Jake’s palm cracked against Laura’s ass, the sound sharp in the heavy air. She gasped, her body jerking forward, her tits pressing harder against Pat’s face. The heat of her skin seared into him, her nipples hard points digging into him.

“Fuck—yes,” she hissed, her breath hot against Pat’s ear. “Just like that.”

Another slap. Laura’s moan vibrated through Pat’, her fingers clawing at his collarbone, nails biting into his skin. The sting of her grip matched the burn in his groin, his caged cock throbbing, leaking precum and shame.

“You hear that, baby?” Her voice was rough, her words spilling out between gasps as Jake’s thrusts grew harder, his hips slapping against her ass. “Hear how wet I am for him?”

Pat’s breath hitched as he listened to the noise of Laura’s cunt being invaded—slick, sloppy, the wet slap of flesh meeting flesh.

Laura’s lips brushed his ear, her voice a filthy whisper. “I’m dripping, Pat. Soaking for him.” Her hips rolled back, meeting Jake’s next thrust, her body moving with his, her breath ragged. “He’s stretching me open, baby. Filling me up in ways you never could."

Another slap. Laura’s cry was sharp, her body tightening against Pat’s, her heat branding him.

“God, he’s huge,” she gasped, her fingers digging into Pat’s skin, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Thick and hard and perfect.”

Pat’s breath came in ragged bursts, the blindfold trapping tears that burned hot behind his eyes. The sounds—her sounds—filled his mind, each gasp, each moan, each filthy word like a blade twisting deeper.

She’s leaving me.

The thought clawed at him, raw and desperate. His fingers curled into fists, the restraints merciless. His cock, trapped and leaking in its cage, was a cruel reminder of everything he wasn’t.

But then—

Laura’s hand slid up, her fingers tangling in his hair, her grip fierce. “Mine,” she growled against his ear, her voice rough with need, her body moving with Jake’s, riding him harder. “You’re mine, Pat. Always.”

The words hit him like a punch, knocking the air from his lungs. His body sagged against the chair, the fight draining out of him, replaced by something darker. Something right.

This was it. The raw, ugly truth of him—bound, blind, hers—while she took what she needed. And god help him, he loved it. Loved the shame, the ache, the way his heart hammered in his chest like it was trying to escape.

Jake’s breath turned ragged, his thrusts losing rhythm, his hips stuttering against Laura’s ass.

“Fuck—I’m close,” he ground out, voice rough.

Laura, getting closer herself, didn’t look at him. Her fingers found Pat’s neck, her breath hot against his ear. “Baby?” Her voice was almost pleading, her own need getting more and more urgent. “Is it okay if Jake cums in me? Please, baby, please let him fill my cunt?”

Pat’s breath hitched, his body locking under hers. The question hung between them, heavy and filthy, his mind racing. Say no. Tell her no. Make her stop—

But the words wouldn’t come.

Laura’s lips brushed his ear, her voice a whisper, her pleading desperate. “Please, baby….”

Pat’s pulse roared in his ears, the blindfold trapping the sting in his eyes. His cock jerked in its cage, the metal biting into him, his body betraying him. No. No, no, no—

But the word that tore from his throat, muffled by the gag, wasn’t no.

It was a whimper.

A broken, desperate sound. And a frantic nod.

Laura’s moan tore through the room, raw and unravelling, her body tightening around Jake as his thrusts turned frantic.

“Thank you, my love,” she gasped, her voice rough with need. “Thank youuu—.”

Pat’s body jerked, the blindfold trapping the tears in his eyes, his cock throbbing in its cage, desperate and trapped. The sounds—her sounds, their sounds—filled his mind, each gasp, each groan, each filthy word twisting the knife deeper.

Laura’s free hand slid down, palming his balls, with her fingertips finding the base of the plug. She poked it, just slightly, her touch maddening.

“You can do it, baby,” she whispered, her voice rough with effort, her body moving with Jake’s, riding him harder. “Cum for me. Cum with me.”

Jake’s breath turned ragged, his thrusts losing rhythm, his hips slapping against Laura’s ass, the sound sharp in the heavy air.

“Please,” Laura gasped, her voice breaking, pleading, her body tightening around Jake, the first waves of her orgasm fast approaching. “I want you to cum with us, baby. I need you tooo—.”

Jake’s hips stuttered, his rhythm breaking as his cock swelled inside her. “Fuck—fuck—” his voice was a guttural growl, his hands gripping Laura’s hips like a lifeline.

Then he bottomed out, his cock buried deep, his release tearing through him. His roar filled the room, raw and unravelling, his body jerking against Laura’s as he emptied himself inside her. Hot. Thick. Unstoppable.

Laura’s pussy clenched around Jake's cock as the first pulse of his cum hit her. With her own orgasm crashing down on her, she yanked at the plug, shoving it deeper before twisting it—hard. “—Cum for me!” Laura’s scream tore through the room, her voice breaking, her body shuddering as Jake’s cum flooded her, her cunt twitching around him, milking him for every last drop.

Pat’s world shattered.

Pat’s body locked, his back arching off the chair as the orgasm ripped through him. His caged cock throbbed, but his balls burned, the pressure unbearable—then releasing. A hot, shameful pulse of cum seeped through the cage’s slats, thick and sticky against his thigh. Another spurt followed, then another, each one a betrayal, a humiliation, a relief.

His muscles trembled, his breath coming in ragged bursts through the gag, his body caught between agony and ecstasy. The blindfold trapped the tears that burned behind his eyes, his chest heaving as the waves of pleasure crashed over him, each one worse than the last.

She made me cum.

The thought was a blade twisting in his gut. His cock—his—had failed him, reduced to nothing more than a leaking, useless thing, while Jake fucked his wife like a man. Like a real man.

And yet—

And yet.

The shame was sweet. The humiliation was perfect. His body sang with it, his skin alive with the sting of Laura’s nails, the heat of her breath, the sound of her coming undone for someone else.

His orgasm dragged on, his cock jerking pathetically in its cage, each pulse a fresh wave of shame. He wanted to scream. Wanted to beg. Wanted to tell her he loved her, that he hated this, that he needed it—

But the gag swallowed every sound, every word, every desperate gasp.

The air thickened with the scent of sex—salt, musk, him. Laura slumped against Pat, her chest heaving, Jake’s cum dripping down her thighs. His cock, spent, slipped free with a wet sound.

No one moved. No one spoke. Only the drip of cum onto the floor broke the silence.

Pat was in heaven.

----

The cuffs around Pat’s wrists clicked open first. His arms dropped like dead weight, the sudden rush of blood making his fingers tingle, numb. Then his ankles—freedom, but his legs wouldn’t hold him.

A hand cupped his jaw. Gentle, but firm. The gag’s strap loosened, the silicone prying free from his mouth with a wet pop. His lips burned, his jaw screaming as he worked it open, dry and raw. A whimper escaped him—mmn— his throat too tight for words.

“Shhh.” Laura’s voice, soft, caring, her thumb brushing his cheek. “There you go.”

Cool glass pressed against his lips. Water. He drank greedily, the liquid spilling down his chin, his hands still useless in his lap. The blindfold was still on, and the plug still merrily pulsed away inside him, a cruel reminder, but he didn’t care. The water was heaven. He swallowed, coughed, swallowed again.

Laura’s fingers threaded into his hair, tilting his head back. “Easy. Slow.”

He obeyed. The water trickled down his throat, soothing the rawness left by the gag. His jaw ached, his lips swollen, but the pain was distant now, dull. Manageable.

The glass lowered. Laura’s mouth replaced it—her lips warm, her kiss slow. His Laura. His wife. Jake had left the room, leaving the two alone.

His hands twitched in his lap, finally stirring. He reached for her, fingers trembling, but she caught his wrists, guiding them down. “Not yet.”

He whined, low and needy, but didn’t fight her.

Her thumb brushed his bottom lip. “Good boy.” Then, quieter: “You did so well."

Laura’s fingers slid under Pat’s arms, her grip firm but careful. “Come, my love. Up. Slowly.”

He groaned, muscles protesting as she pulled him forward. His legs wobbled, knees nearly buckling, but she held him steady, her body pressed against his side. “That’s it. I’ve got you.”

The blindfold still blocked his vision, but her warmth, her scent—vanilla and sweat and something darker—anchored him. He leaned into her, breathing shallow.

Her hand slid down his back, fingers tracing the curve of his spine before dipping lower. “This’ll hurt a bit.”

He stiffened. The plug. He’d forgotten the thing still buried inside him, pulsing faintly. His ass clenched instinctively, but her touch was relentless, her fingers finding the base of it, gripping.

“Relax.” Her breath was hot against his ear. “Or it’ll be worse.”

He tried. He really did. But the moment she tugged, his body locked up, a whine tearing from his throat. The stretch burned, the silicone resisting, his hole clinging to it like it didn’t want to let go.

Laura didn’t rush. She worked it in slow, firm pulls, her other hand splayed on his lower back, holding him in place. “Almost there.”

A sharp sting, then the sudden, obscene emptiness as it popped free. His legs almost gave out. Laura caught him, easing him back onto the bed. His ass throbbed, the ache raw and exposed.

Her fingers probed gently. “Sore?”

He nodded, face burning.

“Good.” Her tone was fond, almost proud. “You took it so well.”

The mattress dipped as Laura settled beside him, her body moulding against his side. Her head found the crook of his shoulder, her breath warm on his chest. Pat froze, arms stiff at his sides, unsure if he was allowed to move.

She didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

The silence stretched, thick with the weight of what had just happened—the sounds, the smells, the way his body had betrayed him. His face burned, but he didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. This was Laura. His wife. The woman who had just broken him and put him back together in the same breath.

Her fingers traced idle patterns on his chest, light as feathers. “You’re thinking too loud.”

He swallowed. “I—”

“Shh.” Her palm flattened against his sternum, right over his hammering heart. “Just… be here.”

He exhaled, slow, shaky. His hands twitched, itching to hold her, but he kept them still. The blindfold scratched at his temples, a constant reminder of his submission. Of her control.

Laura shifted, her thigh sliding over his, her hip pressing into his side. The heat of her seeped through his skin, grounding him. “You did so well,” she murmured again, softer this time.

His throat tightened. He wanted to argue, to ask how any of this was good, how letting another man fuck his wife while he was bound and helpless could ever be right. But the words died before they formed. Because beneath the shame, beneath the ache in his balls and the soreness in his ass, there was something else—something dark and twisted and his.

Pride.

He turned his head toward Laura, lips parting. “You liked it.”

Not a question. A statement. Raw. Certain.

Laura stilled. Then, slow, deliberate, her finger trailing circles on his chest. “I loved it.”

His cock twitched in its cage, the metal biting into his flesh, hardening once again. A gasp hissed through his teeth, but he didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. The admission settled in his gut, heavy and hot, burning through the last of his resistance

“Watching you…” Her voice dropped, rough. “Hearing you. Knowing you were mine even when you were falling apart.” Her palm pressed flat over his sternum, right above his heart. “You gave me that.”

Pat’s fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles white. The pride was a living thing now, clawing up his throat. He’d taken the gag, the restraints, the degradation—her commands—and he’d survived. More than that. He’d served.

And Laura? She had feasted.

The words hung between them, thick as the air after a storm. Laura’s weight shifted, her body rolling over his, straddling his hips. The cage dug into him harder, the pressure almost unbearable, but he arched into it, chasing the pain, the proof. Pat felt the heat of her cunt on his body. Wetness—Jake’s wetness—seeped against his caged cock, thick and warm, dripping down his balls.

The blindfold peeled away, the fabric dragging against his temples before the light hit—harsh, too bright. Pat squeezed his eyes shut, a hiss escaping through his teeth.

“Easy.” Laura’s voice was a murmur, her thumbs brushing his eyelids. “Give it a second.”

He blinked, slow, watering. The room swam into focus—dim lighting, dark walls, the faint glow of a lamp in the corner. Then her.

His breath caught.

Laura’s mascara had smudged, black streaks cutting down her cheeks like war paint. Her lipstick was a ruin, smeared across her lips, her chin, her throat. Cum—thick, pearly—dried in patches on her collarbone, her jaw, her forehead. Her hair stuck to her skin, strands matted with sweat and something darker.

Pat’s gaze dropped.

Her thighs were slick with it. Her pussy—usually so neat, so pretty—was a mess. Swollen, gaping, the lips dark with friction and use. Cum leaked from her in slow, obscene drips, pooling on his stomach, warm and sticky. Jake’s cum. The man who’d stretched her, filled her, made her scream while Pat could only listen, trapped and helpless.

Pat’s head turned, the movement sluggish, like his neck had forgotten how to move. The mirror on the wall opposite the chair—his chair— caught his reflection—

And he didn’t recognise himself.

His hair was a wreck, damp with sweat, strands plastered to his forehead. His lips were chapped, cracked at the corners, the skin around his mouth red and raw from the gag. Mascara—Laura’s—smeared under his eyes, dark half-moons like he’d been crying. His collar sat crooked, the leather creased from being yanked, the buckle digging into his throat.

Worse was the rest.

Cum. Dried in streaks down his chest, his neck, his face. Some of it is his thin, milky, smeared from where he’d come in the cage, the humiliation wringing it out of him. But the rest? Thicker. Pearl-white. Jake’s. The man’s release had marked him, just like it had marked Laura. Pat’s stomach twisted, but he couldn’t look away.

Laura followed his gaze. A laugh bubbled out of her, low and rich, her fingers pressing into his hip. “God, look at us.”

His breath hitched. Us. Not you. Not me. Us.

She leaned in, her cum-slicked thighs pressing against his sides, her tits brushing his chest. Her finger hooked under his chin, forcing his gaze back to the mirror. “A matching set.”

His cock throbbed in the cage, the metal biting into his swollen flesh. He whined, low and needy, but didn’t dare move.

Laura’s grin was all teeth. “We’re filthy.”

The word sent a shudder through him. His reflection flushed darker, shame and something worse—something hotter—twisting in his gut.

She pushed off him, rolling to her feet in one fluid motion. Her hand extended, palm up. “Shower. Now.”

He hesitated. Just for a second. Then his fingers twitched, reaching for hers.

The shower spray pounded between them, steam curling around their bodies as Laura’s soaped hands slid over Pat’s chest. His skin was slick, the suds swirling into the cum still clinging to his collarbone. She worked methodically, her touch almost clinical—scrubbing away the evidence of what happened, the marks Jake had left on her husband.

Pat’s fingers trembled as he mirrored her, tracing the curve of her waist, the dip of her spine. His thumb brushed the smear of mascara under her eyes, the last remnants of her ruin. She let him, her lashes fluttering shut for a breath before she caught his wrist.

“Careful,” she murmured. “You’ll make me presentable.”

A huff of air escaped him—almost a laugh, almost a sob. His other hand kept moving, washing her thighs, the water turning the cum between them to foam before it swirled down the drain.

Laura’s fingers dipped lower, circling the base of his cage. Pat jerked as she gripped the metal, her thumb pressing against the damp curls at the root of his cock. “Still so sensitive.”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His hips twitched, traitorous, even as the cool metal bit into his swollen flesh.

She rinsed the suds from his skin, her nails scraping lightly over his nipples before she stepped back, turning into the spray. “Your turn.”

Pat obeyed, tilting his head under the water, letting it sluice the last of the night from his hair. His fingers found the shampoo, worked it into a lather, the scent sharp and clean, nothing like the musk of the club, the sweat and sex and shame.

When he opened his eyes, Laura was watching him. Her gaze dropped to his chest, then lower—lingering on the cage, the way his cock strained against it. Again.

His breath caught.

The key glinted between her beautiful tits, the silver chain looped around her neck, the metal resting just above the swell of her breasts. His fingers itched. His mouth went dry.

She noticed.

Her hand lifted, fingers closing around the key. The chain slid free with a whisper of metal on skin, the weight of it heavy in her palm.

Pat’s pulse hammered in his throat.

Laura held it out.

The key dangled between them, catching the light, the shower spray hissing against the tiles. His hand lifted, slow, like moving through water. His fingers hovered just shy of touching it.

“Do you want it?” Her voice was steady. No teasing. No cruelty. Just the question, raw and simple.

His breath hitched. The cage bit into him, the metal warm from his skin, the weight of it a constant, maddening reminder.

He could take it. One twist, and he’d be free.

His fingers curled into a fist.

“No,” he whispered.

The word was a surrender. A vow.

Laura’s mouth crashed onto his, her teeth sharp, her tongue claiming. He groaned into it, his body alight with the fire only she could stoke. The cage, his sore limbs, the ache in his ass—none of it mattered. Not when she was herself like this. Unleashed. Hungry.

She pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, “Good boy.”

And Pat—broken, ruined, proud—smiled.