The scent of roasted lamb and rosemary fills my apartment, a warm, savory veil over the nervous energy knotting my stomach. My hands linger on the silverware, aligning each fork and knife with obsessive precision, the soft clink of metal against porcelain a counterpoint to the pulse hammering in my ears. Silvia’s instructions this morning were cryptic, her voice low and teasing, her emerald eyes glinting with a promise that set my nerves ablaze. Tonight is a milestone, Andi. You’ll serve, and you’ll bare your soul. The words echo, their weight pressing against the chastity cage locked around my cock and balls for three weeks, its cold metal a relentless reminder of her control. At 28, I’m a young professor by day, moonlighting as a consultant, but with Silvia, I’m her submissive, her slave, a role I’ve embraced with fervent devotion, though tonight’s dinner—a public test of my surrender before her chosen guests—stirs a storm of dread and desire in my gut.

The dining room glows under the chandelier’s soft light, its crystal prisms casting delicate rainbows across the polished mahogany table. I adjust the wine glasses, ensuring their alignment is flawless, knowing Silvia’s sharp gaze will catch any flaw. My white dress shirt, tailored to her specifications, clings to my frame, and my tie is knotted with care, but beneath my trousers, the cage bites, my cock twitching uselessly, my balls throbbing with denied need. The contrast between my polished exterior—befitting a professor and consultant—and my hidden submission makes my skin prickle, the secret a live wire beneath my calm facade.

The doorbell chimes, sharp and clear, and I take a steadying breath, smoothing my shirt before opening the door. Silvia steps inside, a vision at 24, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her emerald-green dress hugging her curves, accentuating her confident elegance. Her eyes meet mine, warm but commanding, and a slow smile curves her lips. “Andi,” she says, her voice soft but firm, “you’ve prepared everything perfectly, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I reply, my voice low, the title grounding me in my role, sending a shiver down my spine. Her fingers brush my jaw, a fleeting touch that makes my knees weak, my cock straining against the cage’s unyielding grip. Three years ago, Silvia was my student, a brilliant freshman in my introductory economics course, her sharp mind and quiet confidence drawing me in, though I kept my distance, a professor’s restraint my shield. Now, she’s my mistress, her internship at my consulting firm a bridge to this dynamic, her dominance a force I crave.

Chrissy follows, her 21-year-old energy bursting through the doorway like a spark. Her blonde ponytail bounces, her tight black skirt and crop top screaming playful defiance. She winks at me, her grin mischievous, her blue eyes glinting with trouble. “Fuck, Andi, looking all professor-chic,” she teases, her voice dripping with mockery. “What’s cooking, besides your locked-up cock?” Chrissy, Silvia’s younger sister, knows my secret—she’s seen me kneel, heard my whispered pleas, and revels in tormenting me with her relentless teasing. Her presence tonight promises a gauntlet of humiliation, and my body hums with a shameful thrill.

Then Kathie steps in, and my breath catches, my heart stuttering. Kathie, Silvia’s best friend and another former student from that same freshman class, the woman I’d quietly adored when I was 25 and she was 18. Her auburn hair is swept into a loose bun, her navy dress modest but clinging to her soft curves, her hazel eyes offering a nervous smile that twists something deep in my chest. “Hi, Andi,” she says, her voice gentle, warm. “This looks amazing. Thanks for hosting.”

“Of course, Kathie,” I say, my throat tight, forcing a smile to mask the storm inside. Silvia hadn’t told me Kathie was coming until this morning, and the revelation hit like a shockwave, reigniting my forbidden crush. Back then, Kathie’s shy charm and quick wit captivated me, but as her professor, I buried my feelings to protect my reputation, knowing any hint of impropriety could ruin my career. When she and Silvia applied for internships at my firm last year, I ensured Kathie’s application was rejected, a calculated move to keep her at a distance, to avoid the distraction of her presence. The guilt of that decision lingers, and now, facing her in Silvia’s apartment, my role as a slave makes the shame burn hotter, my cock aching in its cage.

“Coats, Andi,” Silvia says, her tone casual but edged with authority, a command Kathie likely hears as politeness. I move quickly, taking their jackets and hanging them in the closet, my hands steady despite the tremor in my chest. Their eyes follow me—Silvia’s knowing, Chrissy’s amused, Kathie’s polite but curious—and the cage bites harder, my balls throbbing with each step, my role hidden behind my observant demeanor, a professor’s poise masking a slave’s surrender.

Dinner begins with a deceptive normalcy, the table a stage for my veiled submission. I serve each course—lamb with rosemary, roasted vegetables, a delicate pavlova for dessert—moving with practiced grace, refilling wine glasses, clearing plates, my actions precise, almost too attentive, befitting a professor hosting former students. Silvia orchestrates the conversation, her voice smooth, weaving stories of her internship, academic debates, and shared memories from their freshman year, her elegance masking the power she holds over me. Chrissy interjects with playful jabs, her foot nudging mine under the table, her grin sharp. “Andi’s killing it tonight,” she says, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Such a good host, right, Kathie? Bet he was this attentive in class.”

Kathie laughs, a soft, nervous sound, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah, you’re really on top of everything, Andi,” she says, her hazel eyes meeting mine briefly, warm and innocent, oblivious to the undercurrent. “You were always so organized in lectures.” My crush flares, her praise a spark that warms my chest, but the cage reminds me of my place—Silvia’s slave, not the professor she remembers.

I murmur a quiet “Thank you,” my voice steady, and continue serving, my observant behavior a carefully crafted mask, hiding the truth from Kathie’s unsuspecting gaze.

Silvia’s glances are subtle but deliberate, her smile a silent command to maintain the facade, letting the tension build like a slow-burning fuse. Kathie chats about her current studies, her voice light, sharing anecdotes about her senior year, unaware of the dynamic simmering beneath the surface. Chrissy’s teasing grows bolder, her comments veiled but pointed, testing my composure. “Andi’s so good at following instructions,” she says at one point, her tone playful but loaded, her eyes locked on mine. “Bet he’d do anything you asked, Kathie.” I feel the heat creeping up my neck, my cock twitching in its cage, but I keep my expression neutral, pouring more wine, my hands steady despite the storm inside.

The meal progresses, course after course, and I move silently, my role as host blending seamlessly with my submission, invisible to Kathie but palpable to Silvia and Chrissy. I catch Kathie watching me, her brow furrowing slightly at my precision, my constant attentiveness—pouring wine before glasses are empty, clearing plates the moment they’re set aside—but she says nothing, her smile polite, her curiosity a faint undercurrent. “You’ve got this hosting thing down,” she says at one point, her voice warm, and I nod, my smile tight, the cage a secret anchor keeping me grounded in my role.

After dessert, Silvia leans back in her chair, swirling her wine, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that shifts the room’s atmosphere. “Andi, clear the table and join us in the living room,” she says, her voice calm but charged with intent, the first crack in the evening’s normalcy. My pulse quickens, the shift in her tone signaling the unveiling of the true purpose, the moment I’ve both dreaded and craved. I nod, clearing the dishes with trembling hands, the clatter of porcelain loud in the now-quiet room, Kathie’s curious gaze following me as I retreat to the kitchen, her innocence still intact but teetering on the edge of revelation.

In the living room, Silvia lounges on a plush velvet sofa, her green dress shimmering in the soft light, her posture relaxed but commanding. Chrissy sprawls beside her, her legs crossed provocatively, her crop top riding up to reveal a sliver of tanned skin, her grin wicked. Kathie sits in an armchair, her hands clasped in her lap, her expression curious but still unsuspecting, the dinner’s normalcy lingering in her mind, though her brow furrows slightly, sensing a shift she can’t yet name.

I stand at the threshold, my heart pounding, the cage a relentless ache, until Silvia’s voice cuts through, soft but unyielding. “Andi, kneel.”

I drop to my knees before her, the carpet soft against my skin, my head bowed, the act both humbling and grounding, a surrender that feels like coming home. Kathie gasps, a sharp, startled sound, her confusion breaking the room’s silence. “What… what’s happening?” she asks, her voice trembling, the normalcy of the dinner shattering, her eyes wide as she stares at me, no longer the attentive professor but a kneeling figure, stripped of his former authority.

Silvia’s fingers stroke my hair, her touch gentle but possessive, her smile warm but firm. “Kathie, Andi is my submissive,” she says, her voice clear, inviting no argument. “He serves me, obeys me, belongs to me. Tonight, you’ll see who he truly is, and you’ll have a part in it.”

Kathie’s lips part, her cheeks flushing scarlet, her gaze darting between me and Silvia, shock and curiosity warring in her expression. “Your… submissive?” she whispers, her voice barely audible, the revelation reshaping her memory of me—the young professor who taught her economics, now kneeling, exposed in a role she never imagined. My crush twists into vulnerability, her innocent gaze piercing, seeing me as Silvia’s slave, not the mentor she admired.

Chrissy giggles, leaning forward, her ponytail swinging. “Oh, it’s way more than that, Kathie,” she says, her voice dripping with mischief. “He’s got a fucking cage on his cock, locked up tight for Silvia. Show her, Andi.”

My face burns, the humiliation searing, but Silvia’s hand tightens in my hair, urging me on, her touch a reminder of my commitment. “Do it, Andi,” she says, her tone encouraging but commanding, her eyes locked on mine, full of pride. I stand, my hands trembling as I unbutton my shirt, letting it fall to the floor, then undo my trousers and slide them down, stepping out of them to reveal the black thong and the metal chastity cage glinting in the soft light. My cock strains uselessly against its confines, my balls aching with three weeks of denial, my exposure complete under their gazes, the room’s air cool against my flushed skin.

Kathie’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide with disbelief, a soft “Oh my God” escaping her lips. Her shock is palpable, but there’s a flicker in her gaze—curiosity, perhaps a hint of arousal—that sends a jolt through me, my crush amplifying my shame, making my cock twitch painfully. The contrast between her classroom memories and my current state is dizzying, her perception of me shifting from professor to slave in a heartbeat.

“Three weeks locked,” Chrissy says, clapping delightedly, her grin predatory. “And he fucking loves it, don’t you, Andi? Tell Kathie how much you love serving Silvia.”

I kneel again, my voice low, trembling, the words raw and honest. “I love serving Mistress Silvia,” I say, my eyes fixed on the carpet, unable to meet Kathie’s gaze. “I love pleasing her, obeying her. The cage… it’s my devotion to her, my way of showing I’m hers.”

Kathie shifts in her chair, her hands clutching the armrests, her voice soft, hesitant. “This is… so much,” she says, her eyes locked on me, her curiosity growing, the shy freshman now confronted with a reality that challenges everything she knew about me. “You really… want this? You’re not… being forced?”

Silvia smiles, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my scalp, her touch grounding me. “He chose this, Kathie,” she says, her voice soothing, inviting. “He craves it, freely gave himself to me. And he has something to confess to you, something he’s carried for years, something that shaped his choices.”

My stomach drops, the moment I’ve dreaded and craved arriving, the weight of my confession pressing against my chest, heavier now with the added layer of my past decision. Silvia’s eyes meet mine, her smile warm but insistent, her command unspoken but clear. “Tell Kathie about your crush, Andi,” she says, her voice a velvet whip, gentle but unyielding. “And tell her about the internship.”

The room feels smaller, the air thick with anticipation, the silence heavy as Kathie’s gaze shifts to me, her brow furrowing, her confusion deepening at the mention of the internship. I crawl to her chair, my knees sinking into the carpet, my head bowed, the cage a humiliating weight between my thighs. “Kathie,” I say, my voice shaking, raw with vulnerability, “three years ago, when I was your professor in economics, I… I had a crush on you. You were 18, a freshman, and I was 25, just starting out, so I never acted on it, never told you. I buried it to protect my reputation, to keep my career safe. I couldn’t risk anyone thinking I’d crossed a line.” I pause, my throat tightening, the next part harder to admit. “Last year, when you and Silvia applied for internships at my firm, I… I made sure your application was rejected. I told myself it was to avoid distraction, to keep my focus, but it was because I was afraid of what I felt for you, afraid I’d lose control. I’m confessing now, as Mistress Silvia’s slave, to serve you, to honor you with my truth, and to beg your forgiveness for what I did.”

Kathie’s breath catches, her eyes widening, a flush spreading across her cheeks, her lips parting in shock. “You… you liked me?” she asks, her voice soft, disbelieving, her hands tightening on the armrests. “And the internship… you rejected me because of that?” Her tone shifts, a mix of hurt and intrigue, her gaze searching mine, grappling with the revelation of my feelings and my betrayal.

Chrissy leans forward, her grin wicked, her voice teasing. “Oh, fuck yeah, he was obsessed,” she says, her eyes glinting with delight. “Pining for you in the lecture hall, Kathie, but too scared to make a move. And then he sabotaged your internship? Damn, Andi, that’s cold. Now look at him—caged, kneeling, just a slut for Silvia. Right, Andi?”

I nod, my face burning, the humiliation searing but liberating, my submission laid bare before the woman I once longed for, the weight of my actions exposed. “Yes, Miss Chrissy,” I say, my voice thick with shame, my cock aching in its cage, the confession a release of guilt and longing I’ve carried for years.

Kathie’s gaze softens, a mix of sympathy, hurt, and something deeper—perhaps arousal—flickering in her eyes. “I… I had no idea,” she says, her voice hesitant, her fingers twitching as if unsure what to do. “That’s… a lot to take in, Andi.”

Silvia rises, moving to stand behind Kathie, her hands resting lightly on her friend’s shoulders, her touch both comforting and encouraging. “Kathie, his confession is a gift,” she says, her voice warm, inviting. “He’s surrendered his truth to you, laid bare his shame and devotion. You have power here. Command him, start small, let him prove his remorse.”

Kathie hesitates, her shyness flaring, but her eyes meet mine, a spark of curiosity igniting, her voice soft but growing bolder. “Andi… kiss my foot,” she says, extending her sandal-clad foot, her toes delicate, her navy dress riding up slightly to reveal a glimpse of her calf. The command is tentative, but its weight is profound, a bridge between my past longing, my past betrayal, and my present submission.

I lower myself, pressing my lips to her toes, the act humbling, intoxicating, the soft skin warm against my mouth. My crush transforms into worship, each kiss a vow to serve her, to atone for my actions, to honor her as Silvia’s proxy. Kathie gasps, a soft sound, but she doesn’t pull away, her body relaxing under my touch, her breath quickening. “Good boy,” she whispers, echoing Silvia’s praise, and the words send a shiver through me, my cock straining painfully, my balls aching with denied need.

Chrissy stands, her skirt riding up, her grin wicked as she moves to stand beside me. “My turn, slave,” she says, lifting her skirt to reveal her bare pussy, glistening with arousal, her scent musky and sharp. “Lick me, Andi. Make me cum.” Her command is bold, her energy crackling, and I crawl to her, my tongue finding her slick folds, her taste heady and intoxicating. She moans, her hands gripping my hair, guiding me as I worship her, my lips circling her clit, her pussy pulsing under my tongue. “Fuck, you’re good at this,” she gasps, her laughter mixing with pleasure, her hips rocking as she climaxes, her cum flooding my mouth, her grip tightening briefly before she steps back, her grin triumphant.

Silvia’s smile is radiant, her eyes gleaming with pride as she watches, her voice cutting through the room’s charged air. “You’re doing beautifully, Andi,” she says, her tone warm, grounding. “Kathie, you’re ready for more. Let’s show you the depth of his surrender.” She gestures to a side room, a private space with a padded bench, velvet curtains, and a low table, a precursor to her later dungeon, its intimacy a stark contrast to the dining room’s elegance.

I crawl behind them, the cage a constant ache, my ass tingling with anticipation, their whispers a hum of excitement and curiosity. Silvia opens a sleek box on the table, revealing a strap-on, its silicone cock sleek and lubed, and helps Kathie step into it, her movements tentative but guided by Silvia’s steady hands. “Kathie, you’ll peg him,” Silvia says, her voice warm, encouraging. “His confession—his crush, his betrayal—deserves a response, a claim. You’ll be his first.”

Kathie’s eyes widen, her breath catching, her cheeks flushing scarlet. “Pegging?” she asks, her voice trembling, her shyness clashing with the spark of intrigue in her gaze. “I… I’ve never…” She trails off, her hands fidgeting with the harness, but Silvia’s touch is reassuring, her voice soothing.

“You can do this, Kathie,” she says, adjusting the straps, the silicone cock gleaming in the dim light. “He wants this, don’t you, Andi?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I say, my voice fervent, my submission complete, my crush now worship under Kathie’s emerging power, my guilt seeking atonement through her dominance.

Kathie nods, her eyes meeting mine, her voice soft but firm. “Okay, Andi,” she says, a quiet resolve settling over her. “I’m ready.”

Silvia positions me on the bench, binding my wrists with silken ropes to a hook above, my body stretched, my ass exposed, the cage glinting in the soft light, my cock and balls trapped, aching. “Relax, Andi,” she says, her fingers stroking my back, her touch a balm against the intensity. “This is for Kathie, a gift to her, a way to reclaim what you took.” Kathie steps behind me, the strap-on brushing my ass, her hands trembling slightly, and Silvia guides her, her voice steady, patient. “Slow, Kathie,” she says, her hands on Kathie’s hips, helping her align the silicone cock. “Let him feel your power.”

Kathie pushes forward, the intrusion slow, careful, the silicone cock stretching my ass, the sensation intense, a mix of pain and exhilarating pleasure. I moan, my voice raw, the act profound, her dominance a quiet fire that burns away the last remnants of my crush, replacing it with reverence, my guilt assuaged by her claim. Her thrusts are hesitant at first, her inexperience evident, but Silvia’s guidance steadies her, her moans soft, mingling with my own, her confidence blooming with each movement. “You’re doing so well, Kathie,” Silvia says, her voice warm, her hand grazing my caged cock, teasing without relief, amplifying my denial.

Chrissy kneels beside me, her teasing relentless, her fingers flicking the cage, sending jolts of frustration through me. “Taking Kathie’s cock like a fucking champ,” she says, her grin wicked, her pussy still glistening from my earlier service, her scent lingering in the air. “Bet you’re sorry now for fucking over her internship, huh, Andi?” Her words cut, the humiliation searing, but they fuel my submission, my surrender to Kathie’s tentative dominance a testament to my atonement.

Kathie’s rhythm steadies, her thrusts deeper, more assured, her moans growing louder, her hands gripping my hips as she finds her power. The room is a symphony of sensation—her silicone cock claiming me, Silvia’s touch grounding me, Chrissy’s teasing tormenting me—and I lose myself in it, my ass yielding to Kathie’s dominance, my submission a bridge between my past betrayal and my present redemption. “Good boy, Andi,” Kathie says, her voice stronger now, echoing Silvia’s praise, and the words send a shiver through me, my cock straining painfully, my balls aching with need.

Silvia pauses Kathie, gently guiding her back, her smile radiant with pride. “You’ve claimed him, Kathie,” she says, her voice warm, turning to harness her own strap-on, its shaft thicker, gleaming with lube. “Now it’s my turn to remind him who he belongs to.” She positions herself behind me, her hands steady, and commands, “Recite your mantra, Andi.”

“I am Mistress Silvia’s sex toy,” I gasp, my voice shaking as she enters me, the larger silicone cock stretching my ass further, her thrusts deep, deliberate, claiming every inch of me. “My body is hers. My mind is hers. My pleasure is hers.” Her moans mingle with mine, her dominance absolute, her rhythm a relentless assertion of her ownership.

Chrissy’s teasing continues, her fingers grazing my balls, her laughter sharp. “Fuck, you’re such a slut for her cock,” she says, her grin wide, her energy a spark that keeps me on edge.

Kathie watches, her eyes wide, her shyness tempered by awe, her dominance awakened by the act she’s just performed. “He’s… yours,” she says, her voice soft, reverent, stepping closer to stroke my back, her touch gentle, grounding. “But… I feel like I’ve taken something back, too.” Her words, tentative but bold, send a thrill through me, my worship for her solidified, my guilt eased by her forgiveness, her dominance a new bond between us.

Silvia pulls out, her breath ragged, and unbinds my wrists, guiding me to kneel before her, her dress lifted to reveal her bare pussy, glistening with arousal, her scent musky and divine. “Worship me, Andi,” she commands, and I dive in, my tongue parting her slick folds, her taste sharp and intoxicating, her clit pulsing under my lips. Her orgasm crashes over her, her cum flooding my mouth, her hands gripping my hair as she shudders, her smile triumphant as she steps back.

“Kathie, your turn,” Silvia says, her voice warm, guiding me to kneel before Kathie, who lifts her dress, her pussy bare, glistening, her scent softer, floral. “Serve her, Andi,” Silvia says, and Kathie nods, her voice bolder now.

“Please me,” she says, her dominance quiet but firm, and I obey, my tongue exploring her slick folds, her taste sweet, her moans soft but intense. Her orgasm is gentle, her cum coating my lips, her hand stroking my hair, her praise—“Good boy”—a gift that seals my worship, my crush transformed into reverence, my atonement complete.

Chrissy steps forward, her skirt already lifted, her pussy still wet from my earlier service. “Again, slave,” she says, her voice playful but commanding, and I lick her, her taste sharp, her moans louder, her hips rocking as she climaxes quickly, her cum flooding my mouth, her laughter ringing out. “Fuck, Andi, you’re a pussy-eating machine,” she says, ruffling my hair, her pride evident.

The ritual slows, the room quieting, the air thick with the weight of what’s transpired. Silvia pulls me to my feet, her arms enveloping me, her body warm against mine, her green dress soft against my naked skin. “You’re mine, Andi,” she says, her voice a vow, tender but possessive. “You’ve proven yourself tonight, bared your soul to Kathie, atoned for your past. Do you want to be my slave, fully, always?”

“Yes, Mistress Silvia,” I say, my heart swelling, the cage a testament to my role, my cock aching, my submission sealed.

Kathie smiles, her shyness tempered by a newfound confidence, her eyes warm. “You’re… incredible, Andi,” she says, her words a gift, her dominance a promise I long to explore further, my worship for her absolute.

Chrissy smirks, her teasing softer now, her hand grazing my shoulder. “Don’t fuck it up, slave,” she says, her warmth grounding me, her laughter a spark that lingers.

Silvia leads us back to the dining room, where coffee and chocolate tarts await, but I kneel beside her chair, my role unchanged, the cage a constant reminder of my place. She feeds me a bite of tart, her fingers grazing my lips, her smile tender, her voice firm. “You’ll wear the cage longer,” she says, tapping it, the metal cold against my skin, “and your pleasure is mine alone. Understood?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I say, my voice fervent, my devotion complete, the ache in my cock a vow, my submission a home. Kathie and Chrissy linger, their presence a lingering echo of the night’s transformation.

Kathie’s hand grazes my arm as she stands to leave, her smile shy but knowing. “Thank you, Andi,” she says, her voice soft, her dominance a quiet promise, her forgiveness a balm.

Chrissy winks, her teasing playful, her voice light. “Keep that cock locked, slut,” she says, and I laugh, her energy a balm against the intensity.

Silvia pulls me close as the door closes behind them, her lips brushing my forehead, her arms enveloping me, her scent calming, her dominance my world. “You’re my perfect boy,” she says, her voice tender, her power absolute. I kneel, the cage a vow, my body and soul hers, the dinner a revelation, a cornerstone of my surrender, binding me to Silvia, Kathie, and Chrissy, my mistresses, my truth.