They were still married.

From the outside, little had changed.

They shared coffee in the mornings. Grocery shopped on Sundays. Watched shows together in bed. Laughed at old inside jokes. Friends and family saw the same couple they always had.

But inside the walls of their home, everything was different.

Ethan was locked.

Always.

He hadn’t been allowed to touch himself since Leah locked him, except for that one humiliating handjob—granted like a gift, taken like a confession.

She never let him forget it.

Sometimes with a subtle smirk when he shifted uncomfortably. Sometimes with a passing hand grazing his thigh, a whisper in his ear when she leaned in to say goodnight:

“Still aching for me, baby?”

And he was.

Every day.

The pressure never went away.

It made him more attentive. More obedient. More eager to please.

And Leah noticed.

She started assigning small rituals. Chores became acts of devotion. He laid out her clothes in the mornings. Warmed her towel when she showered. Washed her lingerie by hand. Massaged her calves while she scrolled through messages from men he didn’t know.

And in return?

She offered praise.

A kiss on the cheek.

A soft, “Good boy,” as she walked past in a robe that hung too loose over nothing.

One Saturday afternoon, Leah appeared in the hallway in jeans and a tank top, barefoot and glowing.

“I want to go shopping,” she said.

“Okay,” Ethan replied, standing.

“No, not with me,” she said, tossing him her credit card. “I want you to go.”

He blinked. “What for?”

She smirked. “I have a date tonight. I want new panties. Something black. Lacy. Sexy. Something that’ll make his jaw drop when he takes off my dress.”

He stared at her.

“And I want you to pick them.”

His face flushed.

“You can text me pics if you’re not sure.”

She paused, walking closer, her voice lowering.

“And I want you to imagine me in them. Think about how they’ll look on me when he slides them down. How they’ll feel, still warm, when I come home and press them to your face.”

Ethan trembled.

His cage was aching.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I’ll go.”

She kissed him—soft and sweet. Then pulled back with a glint in her eye.

That night, she got ready slowly—wearing the pair he’d chosen.

He watched her step into them, the black lace hugging her thick thighs, disappearing beneath a wine-colored dress he hadn’t seen before. She asked him to zip it, to help with her heels. She had him spray the perfume.

Then she turned.

“You really like doing this for me, don’t you?”

He hesitated. “I do.”

She leaned in close, lips brushing his ear.

“You love that I’m going out to fuck someone else.”

He swallowed.

“You love that I’m getting stretched by big, thick cock while you stay home and ache.”

His cock twitched hard in the cage.

She grinned.

“You’re starting to love it, aren’t you?”

He didn’t answer.

But his eyes said everything.

She came home just after midnight.

Hair a mess. Lipstick smeared. Her walk slow and satisfied.

He was already kneeling by the bed.

“Panties off,” she whispered, and tossed them to him.

He pressed them to his face, inhaling the scent of sex, of her, of him.

She lay back.

He licked her clean.

And when she finally unlocked him later, stroking him gently with slow, teasing control, she made him repeat it all back to her—everything she’d told him about the night.

“Say it,” she whispered. “Say what he did to me.”

Ethan whimpered as her hand worked him.

“He… he kissed you hard. Said your body was perfect. He bent you over… he pulled your hair…”

“And?”

“He stretched you. Filled you. Made you come again and again…”

“And?”

“He said he didn’t want to stop. That you were the best fuck he’s ever had.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

His voice cracked. “Jealous. Turned on. Broken. I wish it was me…”

She smiled—but softer now. Almost pitying.

“You had me, Ethan. You had a loyal wife. A good wife. One who gave you her body without asking for anything.”

Her pace didn’t change. It stayed slow. Inevitable.

“And you threw it away… because you wanted more.”

He trembled, breath shallow.

“Now I get more. Thick cock. Deep orgasms. Men who make me scream.”

She leaned closer.

“And you don’t even get to touch yourself.”

Her grip tightened slightly.

“Tell me you understand that. Tell me you know this is your doing.”

He choked on a moan, but nodded.

Her voice was a whisper.

“Good. Then come for me.”

He tried not to. Tried to hold it.

Tried to last just a few seconds longer.

But her words ruined him.

His orgasm ripped through him—shameful, desperate, complete. He jerked in her hand, gasping, humiliated.

She kissed his forehead like it was a mercy.

“Lock back up, baby.”

And he did.

A week passed.

Still locked.

Still aching.

He started spiraling—replaying her words, her moans. The way Leah glowed when she came home.

He tried to tell himself it couldn’t be that incredible.

Maybe she was exaggerating. Maybe they were just average guys and she was playing it up to make him submissive. Maybe… maybe he still had a chance.

Maybe he could satisfy her again.

He practiced the speech in his head.

Waited until she was relaxed—soft robe, glass of wine, legs crossed on the couch.

“I want to talk,” he said.

Leah looked over. “Mm?”

He sat beside her, his heart racing.

“I think I can still please you. Really please you. If you gave me a chance. I know I'm… smaller. But maybe you’ve just forgotten how good we used to be together.”

She tilted her head, lips twitching with interest.

“Are you asking me to let you fuck me?”

“I’m asking for a chance to prove I can,” he said. “To show you I’m not… useless.”

She studied him for a long moment.

He hated how hopeful he felt.

Then she nodded slowly and said, “Let me think about it.”

Ethan clung to those words like a starving man offered a crumb.

She came to him the next night.

He was folding laundry in the bedroom when she entered—wearing nothing but a tank top and panties, hair up, no makeup.

She sat on the edge of the bed.

“I thought about what you asked,” she said.

Ethan stood still, breath held.

“And I’ll give you a chance,” she continued. “On one condition.”

“Anything.”

She looked him dead in the eyes.

“I want you to watch me get fucked. Really watch. The way I get taken now. The way I scream. The way I collapse.”

His stomach turned.

“What?”

“I want you to see it. See what it looks like when I’m actually satisfied.”

He swallowed hard. “You want me to be in the room?”

“I want you watching.” She leaned in. “And if—after seeing it—you still think you’re up to the task… I’ll consider it.”

Ethan went cold.

The idea horrified him.

The thought of someone else inside her—while he stood by helpless, locked, watching…

It made him sick.

It made him jealous.

It made him hard.

“I…” His voice cracked. “I don’t know if I can.”

Leah kissed his cheek gently.

“Then maybe you’re not ready.”

He hesitated.

He looked at her—his beautiful, glowing wife who had become a goddess.

And then he nodded.

“I’ll do it.”

She smiled. Sincere. Powerful.

“Good.”

Then she left the room.

And Ethan stood alone—cage tight, throat dry, heart pounding—with no idea how deep this would go.

Leah didn’t tell him when it was happening. She just said: “Be home by nine. Showered. Dressed. Ready.”

Ethan obeyed.

He sat on the edge of the bed that evening, locked, heart pounding, trying not to think too far ahead. He imagined something tame. Kissing, maybe. Some touching. Something just enough to hurt but not enough to break him.

He heard the front door open at 9:13 p.m.

Voices. Laughter. A man’s voice—deep, smooth, familiar with her already.

Then footsteps.

And then they entered.

Leah was in a tight black dress that clung to every curve—no bra, no panties. Her nipples visible through the fabric. Her hair curled. Her skin glowing.

And the man beside her?

He was tall. Broad. Confident in a way that required no effort. Tattooed arms, deep brown skin, a trimmed beard. He looked at Ethan once, just enough to register him—and then dismissed him completely.

Leah smirked as she walked the man toward the bed. “My husband will be watching tonight,” she said. “He asked for this.”

The man chuckled. “Kinky.”

Ethan couldn’t breathe.

Leah turned toward him. “Stay quiet. Stay still.”

Then she slipped off her dress.

Ethan’s mouth went dry.

Her breasts bounced slightly as the fabric fell. Her ass was high and round, thighs thick, stomach soft in the sexiest way. She looked like a vision. Like she belonged to someone else's fantasy now.

The man stripped slowly—casual, deliberate. When he dropped his boxers, Ethan felt his stomach twist.

Oh my god.

It wasn’t just big.

It was massive.

Thick. Veined. Heavy. Hanging long between his legs.

Ethan stared in disbelief. She can’t… she won’t be able to…

But she was already sinking to her knees.

She looked up at the man with parted lips, took him in one hand, and began to suck.

Slowly. Hungrily.

Her lips stretched around the girth. Her eyes fluttered shut. She moaned—like she’d missed this all day.

Ethan’s cage throbbed painfully.

He’d never seen her like this. Not even close.

When she stood again, the man grabbed her by the waist and pulled her onto the bed.

She giggled. Giggled.

Then lay back, legs open.

“Ready?” he asked.

“God, yes.”

He pushed inside her in one long, slow thrust.

Ethan gasped.

Leah groaned—long, loud, deep in her throat.

Her legs wrapped around the man’s waist. Her hands clawed at his shoulders.

He started to move. Slow, deliberate thrusts. Deep strokes that made her entire body rock against the mattress.

“F—fuck,” she moaned. “You’re so deep.”

He grunted. “You take it like you were made for it.”

She screamed when he shifted angle, pounding harder.

Ethan watched, frozen.

Her breasts bounced with each thrust. Her thighs trembled. Her mouth hung open in pleasure. He could hear how wet she was. The slick, rhythmic sounds of their bodies colliding filled the room like music.

And he couldn’t look away.

She came once.

Then again—louder.

Then a third time—sobbing, moaning, clawing at the sheets.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped. “God, please don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

He flipped her. Fucked her from behind. Pulled her hair. Called her his good girl.

She cried out his name.

Not Ethan’s.

Never Ethan’s.

When the man finally came—deep inside her, groaning into her shoulder—Leah arched her back and let him fill her completely.

And Ethan?

He was shaking.

Cage aching. Throat dry. Eyes wide.

Completely destroyed.

He had no idea how long he sat there after.

Leah cleaned up, kissed the man goodbye at the door, and returned in nothing but a robe.

She stood before Ethan calmly.

“Well?”

He couldn’t speak.

She smiled. Sat beside him.

“I told you. You needed to see it.”

She cupped his chin.

“And now, if you still think you can please me…”

He looked down.

He already knew the answer.

But part of him—broken, desperate—still wanted to try.

Ethan didn’t sleep that night.

He lay awake long after Leah had returned to bed, her body still flushed from the evening’s wreckage. The sound of her moans echoed in his skull. The image of her trembling under someone else’s weight was burned behind his eyes.

But worse than any of that… was how much of him had wanted to see it.

He was still locked.

Still aching.

But something inside him had cracked wide open—and the hollow space it left behind wasn’t filled with hope.

It was filled with truth.

In the morning, Leah said nothing. She moved through the kitchen as if nothing had happened. Coffee. Soft music. Robe brushing her thighs.

Eventually, she called him into the bedroom.

He came.

Of course he did.

She sat on the bed in nothing but a loose tee, her hair still messy from sleep. No makeup. No armor.

Just her.

And still—utterly untouchable.

“Take off your pants,” she said softly.

He obeyed.

She reached for the key on the nightstand, unlocked the cage, and slowly removed it.

His cock sprang forward—raw, red, pulsing with days of untouched arousal.

But she didn’t touch it.

Not yet.

She just looked at it. At him.

Then she slid back on the bed. Let the shirt fall open. Spread her legs.

“You said you wanted a chance,” she murmured. “That you could satisfy me.”

Her pussy was glistening. Still slightly swollen from the night before.

“Then come fuck me, Ethan. Right now.”

His mouth opened. Closed.

His cock throbbed with need. But his legs… wouldn’t move.

She tilted her head, voice patient. Almost sweet.

“Or… if you know you can’t, if you finally understand… bring me the cage.”

His eyes burned.

He looked at her body. At the soft curves, the flushed skin, the undeniable reality of what she had become.

Not his.

Not anymore.

He stood there, naked and trembling, the air cold on his wet tip.

He wanted to fight it.

Wanted to believe he still had something left.

But what he felt now wasn’t pride.

It was truth.

He picked up the cage.

Walked to her.

And knelt.

Silent.

Offering it to her with both hands.

Leah smiled—gentle, warm.

She took it like a gift.

“You were brave to ask,” she said, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “But you’re even braver to know your place.”

Then she locked him again.

The soft click of the lock felt louder than ever.

Final.

And somehow… comforting.

Ethan exhaled—shaky, ruined.

But complete.