My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. Here we were in the hotel room in Gran Canaria getting ready to go to the local nude beach. My wife in a lacy one piece, and me in my birthday suit and a chastity cage.

“Are we actually doing this?” I asked her.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” Kimberly looked over, one eyebrow raised. “You look anxious.”

“Well, that’s because I am!”

“Why? It was on your bucket list after all.”

“I mean, yeah. But that was before chastity.”

“That was your choice too!” She began to laugh, the sound light and teasing under the already-hot Canarian sun.

*A little backstory may help. Years ago my wife and I sat down and wrote a bucket list. I had almost died. Well, actually I did…twice. Full-blown cardiac arrest at thirty-seven. Although it was a shock, I shouldn’t have been surprised. I was ten stone overweight, drank way too much, and lived on junk food.

Recovery was hard. The physiotherapy was grueling, being heavy didn’t help. I struggled to stay motivated, and, well, let’s just say it became hard in more ways than one. My wife suggested a reward chart. Hit a goal, make an achievement, get a reward. 

The rewards varied, walking fifteen minutes on a treadmill earned a beer. Ten lunges meant I could have a steak. Climbing a flight of stairs unlocked sex. Lose a stone and I could eat cheese again. It took a while, but after several months I was healthy…again…ish.

My event didn’t just affect us. Friends and family were shaken too. Many were inspired to start their own bucket lists. That inspired us to do the same. Most of our lists were mundane, but I had one slightly out there item. I wanted to go to a nude beach. 

I still remember Kimberly’s reaction. “You want to go to a nude beach?”

“Yeah. Not now, but give me a couple of years and I’ll be beach body ready.”

“I mean, if it’s what you really want.”

“I think it’ll be fun.”

“It’ll have to be abroad. Nothing domestic.”

“The odds on…” I began, but she cut me off.

“If we’re doing it, it’s abroad.”

“Yes, love,” I told her, kissing her thankfully. 

I still remember her conditions. She was nervous as she felt she had a “Mum-Bod” though I found her sexy as fuck. That didn't seem to matter.

“The nude beach is your thing, not mine. So I promise. Day one, I’m wearing a swimsuit…”

“But…” I began.

“Day two, I’ll wear a bikini.” Kimberly continued. Ignoring my protests. Day three, I may, MAY go topless. Day four, if three happens I’ll go bottomless, but keep my top on.” 

She instinctively put a hand up. Unwilling to engage in any conversation.

“If all goes to plan. Day five, six, I’ll go completely nude…maybe…”

“Thank you.” I told her as I gave her a thankful kiss.

After my recovery, I took getting fit seriously. It took a solid three years, but my body became a chiselled masterpiece, lean muscle, defined abs, the kind of physique that turned heads even in London. With a perfect body came a more adventurous streak. I bought sexy underwear to seduce my wife, but the best stuff was in the gay stores… unbeknownst to her at first. Which is, funny enough, how my fascination with chastity began.

Living in London gave me the luxury of cycling into Soho whenever I wanted and popping into the shops. On my second or third visit I saw these plastic and stainless-steel novelty items with names like Penthouse Prison, The Enclosure, and other cheeky labels. To the initiated you’ll know they were basically knock-off Holy trainers and stainless-steel ring cages.

Seeing them triggered flashbacks to my apprenticeship. We were renovating a house for a widowed woman. She asked us to clear out her late husband’s old office…he’d been dead a few years. 

“Would you like this briefcase, young man?” 

It was a battered brown leather thing. I thought, What the fuck do I want with this? But politeness won. 

“Thank you, much appreciated. What’s the code?”

She shrugged. “I have no idea, but you’ll have fun figuring it out.”

My gaffer said we’d just take it to the dump. On my lunch break I played with the combination locks. I called my dad, told him about the widow, and he laughed. “Nine times out of ten, if they haven’t reset it, the code is triple zero, triple zero.” Funnily enough, it was. Inside that brown leather suitcase were fetish magazines, vintage, old-school stuff. Hardcore BDSM (not my cup of tea), some shemale, some dyke, lots of proper bushy, dated photos that weren’t exactly masturbation material. 

But in the back were comic strips, and me being a slightly immature young man, I loved those.Single-frame black-and-white cartoons by an artist called K.D. Pierre. Simple, nothing elaborate. They usually depicted a couple, a man and his wife, where the husband’s penis had a lock on it. 

I remember one showed a slightly larger woman lounging on a bed while her husband performed cunnilingus with the cage still locked on…the caption read something like, “Let’s see what else you never used to do,” while she twirled the keys on her finger.

Another, the husband washing in the shower, complaining it was taking too long. His wife replies, “Actually, you’re taking half as long as you used to. Care to explain why?”

And one at the breakfast table, cage visible under the tablecloth, the pair filling out a sex survey. The wife smirks, “Boy, are you going to skew the curve.”

All quite innocent, playful things. They aroused me. I masturbated to the thought more than once. Young adulthood, eh. 

Eventually I got rid of the magazines. Honestly now I wished I’d kept the picture. Some things you just can’t find online anymore.

Standing in that gay sex-apparel shop, seeing those cages, brought it all back. I thought, Hey, that would be something to try with the wife.It went down like a lead balloon at first.The first cage I bought was a metal ring with a two-inch O-ring. That thing practically fell off me. It ended up in my junk drawer (my side of the bed of course). 

Next was another metal cage with hinged O-rings that I thought would be easier…Wrong. They pinched, they hurt, they cut me so badly I had to take it off before I even showed Kimberly. She would not have been impressed.

I was about a hundred pounds down before I tried the Holy Trainer. That fitted well…or so I thought.The first time I showed it to her she was very unimpressed. Locking up her favourite toy didn’t go down too well.“ You know, I want to earn it,” I said. “Just put a marker down. Let me see if I can… maybe make you cum six or seven times before you let me out.”

Her reply was along the lines of, “I didn’t put you in it. What are you talking about?”

I argued my case without mentioning the cartoons. “I don’t want to live vanilla anymore. I almost died. I want to do this.”

She stared at me. “Just let me get this right. You want to wear something that prevents an erection so we can still have sex?”

I showed her the magic wand I’d bought, plus a few other toys. “This is something I’d like to try.”

“How long can it stay on?”

“As long as you like.” She pulled a strange face. “You want us to have sex where I cum… and you don’t?”

“Kinda…”

“Yeah. It’s definitely coming off tonight because I want you to creampie me. But next week, Friday, my period starts. You can wear it again then.... At least I won’t feel guilty about not giving you a blowjob.”

I can’t lie, when those words left her mouth my cock immediately tried to get hard inside the cage. There was something so arousing about the idea of her just leaving me locked and ignoring me. IT was like another major flashback to those old cartoons. We eventually moved on from there and Kimberly loved me caged. 

One day I was back in Soho in one of the shops when I overheard someone ask, “Do you have the Cobra KD cages?” The assistant said no, try CloneZone down the road.I walked straight out, down the street, and into the other shop. Those cages were beautiful, sleek, better engineered, a proper contoured design. I tried one on, found the perfect ring size, and it came to just under two hundred quid. The one I settled on was a black Cobra S+ black polycarbonate, smooth curves, a solid locking mechanism at the base ring, and a short, restrictive tube that kept everything pointed downward and completely contained. No escape, no real growth possible. Just constant, low level pressure and the knowledge that I was locked.

When I told Kimberly how much I’d spent she wasn’t annoyed. “It’s her birthday soon. We’ll call it an early birthday present. Good investment on your forever cage.”

My cock leaked instantly when she called it a forever cage.

*Now back to today, in Gran Canaria*

Kimberly looked at me and said, “You’re overreacting. You got through Heathrow no problem. The beach will be a cakewalk.”

I had thought the airport would be awkward. I’d told her I didn’t want to be caged for security, but she insisted it would be fine, the full-body scanners would just register it as a novelty item.

Technically it was fine. I went through, got scanned. The guy on the machine gave me a funny look, he clearly saw the outline of the black Cobra, but he didn’t pull me aside. He waved Kimberly over instead. They had a quick conversation; he wrote something down, sealed it in an envelope, and told her to open it when we got back to London.

I’d forgotten about that envelope. Kimberly had slipped it into her carry-on. When I asked what it was she told me what he’d said, then demanded we go get a drink. My wife is a nervous flyer. And that was the end of the convo.

Kimberly walked up to me, kissed me on the lips, and said, “Shane, you’re overthinking. This is what you wanted. Relax. We’ll go. If it’s really shit we’ll leave after an hour. Don’t stress.” She gave me a playful smack on the arse and went back to doing her makeup.

I took a deep breath and stood in front of the hotel-room mirror. Defined chest, tight abs, the black Cobra S locked snugly around my cock and balls, the tube short and smooth, the base ring sitting flush against my skin. A faint sheen of pre-cum already visible at the tip slit. “Let’s do this,” I told myself.

I pulled on black cargo swim shorts, a brown beach shirt, and a beige fisherman’s hat. “I look like a fucking chav,” I told Kimberly.

She turned, smiled, giggled. “Weirdly, it’s doing it for me.”

“You can’t be serious,” I said, rolling my eyes.

She adjusted her swimsuit, an all-in-one with strategic openings that framed her beautiful brown skin, gold trim catching the light. She wrapped herself in a light shawl and settled a straw hat on her head. “I’m ready.”

We headed to reception and caught the shuttle to the beach.The shuttle dropped us at Maspalomas. We walked through the textile section first. Sand artists had sculpted Simpsons characters; for a small fee you could sit and take a photo. Kimberly was adamant we do all the touristy things, so we did.Eventually we reached a big sign in Spanish and English: Nude beach beyond this point. 

As we crossed, Kimberly asked, “Should we strip now?”

I scoffed. “No. Let’s walk at least another ten or fifteen minutes so we’re bang in the middle. No chance of offending anyone.” 

Even though almost no one was there yet, we’d practically opened the beach. That was by design. I’d been convinced I’d chicken out and want to leave before anyone saw me. Originally the nude beach fantasy had been uncaged. Being locked made me more nervous. Kimberly just reassured me, then joked she’d like to see my cock develop tan lines from the Cobra.

We found a decent spot, she didn’t like it. She spotted sun loungers further along and wanted to get closer. When we reached them she asked about hiring one and was told they were all reserved for an event that day.

Great, I thought. The beach is going to get fucking crowded. We set up a decent distance away, opened our pop up tent, laid out towels. Kimberly stripped down to her swimsuit and gave me the nod. I took off the brown shirt, took a deep breath, dropped my shorts, and tossed them into the tent. The black Cobra sat heavy and obvious against my pale skin, the tube glinting slightly in the sun.

“Do you want to go for a dip?” she asked.

I looked around, still no one. “Yeah, sure.”

We waded in. Feet, then knees, until the Atlantic closed over the cage. The water was cool and clear; the restricted feeling of the lock intensified as the temperature changed. We messed about for twenty or thirty minutes until she warned me, 

“Don’t you fucking splash my hair. I’ve only just had it done.”

When we turned to head back, horror filled me. The beach was filling up. At least a dozen loungers were now occupied; people were setting up blankets and tents further along. I had no choice but to walk back with the cage on full display. Stepping out of the ocean was terrifying. I felt every pair of eyes land on the black device locked around my cock. I kept my gaze fixed on our tent and marched.

The second we reached it I wrapped a towel around myself. “Maybe this is a bad idea,” I told her.

“We’re here. No one gives a fuck,” Kimberly said. “Open the bag and pour yourself a drink.”

“Kimberly, it’s not even noon.”

“Who cares? We’re on holiday. It’ll relax your nerves.”

I opened a beer for myself and a small bottle of prosecco for her.

As I was handing her the glass a tanned man in his late forties wandered over. He had an okay body, completely naked, semi-stroking his cock. “Hola, mucho gusto en conocerlos. Me llamo Marco. ¿Les gustaría jugar?”

Kimberly and I looked at each other. Neither of us speaks Spanish.

“Sorry… uh… por favor, no español,” I managed.

He repeated the question. I pulled out my phone, opened Google Translate, and stared at the result. 'Would you like to play?'

We waved him away. Kimberly looked at me. “That was fucking weird.”

“I know. Did you see him touching his dick?”

“I thought he was asking where you got your cage.” She laughed nervously.

It happened two more times. Each time we shooed someone away they looked annoyed. People on towels within viewing distance kept glancing over, clearly irritated. We couldn’t figure out why. We weren’t even looking toward the loungers. Then, while we were still bickering about how crazy it was, a shadow fell across the sand in front of us.

A man stood there, five-ten, blond hair, pale skin, blue eyes, a silver chain around his neck closed with a small padlock. Good body, visible six pack. And locked in the N version of the exact same Cobra cage I was wearing. polished silver instead of black, slightly different contouring, the same restrictive design.

“Hola. ¿Hablan español, alemán, francés, italiano o inglés?”

I was mute with shock. Another locked man, right here. Kimberly answered awkwardly, “Um… English? We speak English.”

In a clear German accent the blond man smiled. “Hello. I’m Timo. Your first time at this beach?”

We nodded.

He looked at Kimberly. “And he is your cuckold?”

“Cuckold? No. He’s my husband.”

“Yas, yas. Husbands is a cuckolds?”

That finally gave me my voice. “I’m not a cuckold. I’m not her cuckold. We’re just husband and wife. This is just us.”

Timo pulled a face. 

“Are you locked, no?”

“Yes, but that’s got nothing to do with cuckolding.”

He started to speak, stopped, put a finger to his lips, thought for a moment. “The tent is not good for you. Tent is for privacy…to invite people in to play with you.”

Kimberly looked horrified. “No. My husband has sensitive skin. We just need it for shade. That’s not our intention. We don’t want to play with anyone.”

“Yas, yas, I understand. But this will be a problem for you all day if the tent stays up.”

I stood immediately and started folding the pop-up tent, twist left, twist right, collapse it back into its bag. Around us, people on towels were nodding or shaking their heads as if we’d wasted their time.

Timo waved and walked off. I watched him go, curious. Another caged man on the same beach. He headed straight for the sun lounger area. I tapped Kimberly’s arm. “Do you see what I see?”

Around the loungers there must have been fifty men. At least two-thirds, maybe three-quarters, were wearing cages of some kind, pink, black, metal, plastic, various designs and sizes.

Kimberly stared. 

“You’re not crazy. I see it too.”

“What are the odds?”

“That’s a good question,” she said, picking up her prosecco. “ Let’s go talk to Timo again.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” She marched off toward the loungers.

It took me a second to get to my feet. I was in two minds about the towel or the shorts, but since she was walking straight toward the group of locked men I reluctantly followed naked.

I called for her to slow down, she just gestured for me to hurry. As we got closer I scanned the area, no women, only men, the majority locked like me.

Kimberly had already started talking to Timo and a few others by the time I arrived with an awkward “Hello.”

They nodded and kept speaking to her.The man she was mainly talking to was a big fellow, hefty, very hairy, strong German accent. He was explaining that the beach attracted a lot of swingers. Kimberly told him that wasn’t why we were here and explained the bucket-list story.

He listened, then laughed. “So not only is this a notorious swingers’ beach, you’ve come during a major gay pride and kink festival.”

I started to apologise, saying we’d leave, but the hairy man…Bear, I later learned, stepped forward, put a heavy hand on the back of my neck, and patted my shoulder. “You will be fine.” He turned to Kimberly and gestured at some empty loungers. “Friends of mine are delayed. They will not be here today. Join us.”

Kimberly told me to go back and get our things while she chatted. Timo offered to help.

As we packed he asked, “So, how long have you been locked?”

“Currently on day five.”

“Well done, well done.” 

He waited. I took the hint. “What day are you on?”

“Two hundred and sixty-five.”

My jaw almost hit the sand. He smiled. “Oh, but don’t worry. Bear does well in making sure that this asshole comes enough for this locked clit.”

I politely smiled and nodded, finishing the packing. On the walk back I thought about asking why he called his cock a clit, but I chickened out.

I rejoined Kimberly and her new best friend Bear.

We sunbathed. By noon the beach had settled into a lazy, party afternoon rhythm. The sand was hot, the Atlantic glittered beyond the shallows, and nobody seemed in any hurry. I lay there locked in the black Cobra, embarrassed at first, until the sheer number of other caged cocks made it hard to feel singled out.

A familiar shadow fell over me. “Okay,” Timo said with a grin. “Time for introductions.”

Bear laughed. “You say that like we’re running a conference, my pet.”

“Believe me, with this group a conference would be easier.”

There were six men scattered around the little camp they’d claimed. “This is Lukas, Matthias, Stefan, Jens, Florian, and Markus.”

Waves, handshakes, cheerful hellos.

“Shane and Kimberly,” Timo announced, pointing to us. “They’ve joined us for the afternoon.”

“Welcome,” Lukas said, raising his bottle. “Welcome to the chaos,” Matthias added.

Kimberly looked around. “I was promised this was the relaxed group.”

Laughter erupted.

Weirdly, all the locked men gravitated toward Kimberly rather than me. It left me feeling a bit sidelined. Whenever I felt isolated I headed to the beach bar for another round, trying to stay useful.

When I came back I’d ask her what they’d been talking about.

“They’re surprised you asked me to lock you,” she said. “In their community it’s more of a power thing…usually the bottom is the one locked. Especially,” she leaned in and whispered, “when the sub has a bigger cock.” She giggled.

About an hour later she went to the bar with Stefan. On the way back her eyes were wide, bunny rabbit excited.

She grabbed my arm. “They’re just like us,” she whispered.

“Huh?”

“Stefan and Matthias are a couple, but they’re both locked. Stefan wears a strap-on to fuck Matthias… just like you wear a strap-on to fuck me.”

*Okay, quick explanation. When I first locked up for her period I managed ten days and was ridiculously proud. After she finished I was convinced that, being caged, I’d become a god with my fingers and mouth….That was not the case. 

She basically told me to take the cage off and fuck her properly. I wanted to hit the two-week mark…We negotiated. Two years earlier, when I was still fat, she’d had a sudden urge to peg me and had bought a harness and a ridiculously large dildo for her frame. I suggested we use that instead. 

She said no, she wanted the real thing. I begged to stay locked until the two-week mark.

Long story short, she fucking loved it. It led to me being locked more often than not. No cleanup for her beyond washing the dildo. Plus she has intermittent bleeding issues, and a darker dildo that matched her skin tone let her relax more. The only mind-fuck for me was that the cock fucking her didn’t match my body.

Back to the beach.*

“How intimate are these conversations?” I asked.

She whispered, “They’re sharing everything. How they make each other come is low-key diabolical. Not now…when we get back to the hotel. But see, Bear… he doesn’t let Timo cum like a guy. He makes him always come like a girl.”

I muttered, “What?” but got shushed so I sipped my beer, and wondered what other stories she’d collected.

Around five we started making our goodbyes. Timo immediately insisted we meet up later. Kimberly was polite but non-committal. They’d already swapped Instagrams, he’d send the details of a bar. 

Gay bar, he said, but we’d have fun. Plenty of time to go back to the hotel, have adult time, dinner, pre-drinks, then meet them. Kimberly said we’d think about it.On the way back she told me the secrets and intimate details she’d learned. My cage was straining, the black tube tight and wet at the tip. 

Even though it was all gay dynamics, it made our own arrangement feel almost vanilla by comparison.

She squeezed my thigh. “When we get back to the hotel I want a pre-game orgasm with the wand.”

My mouth went dry. “Kimberly… I’m sorry, I forgot to fucking pack it.”

She tapped my thigh again. “I packed two.”

Relief hit, then confusion. “Why two?”

“Because you said the old one was broken, but sometimes I think the old one works better. I couldn’t remember which was which, so I bought both. We’ll rotate. Keep one charged, see which is best.”

“Fair enough,” I laughed.

Back in the room she peeled off her swimsuit. “Can you go down to the bar and get me wine and yourself a drink while I shower quickly before dinner?”

“No problem.”

She pulled both vibrating wands from the suitcase, tossed one on the bed, and took the other into the bathroom. I called after her, “I could get the drinks… or I could join you.”

“No,” she shouted back, “because if you come in here with me you won’t want to stay in the cage, and then you’ll be grumpy, and I don’t want you grumpy. This is your holiday. Your bucket list. We’re going to have fun. Okay?”

I agreed and went for the drinks. When I returned she was already out of the shower, in white lace bra and thong, hair tied up, doing her makeup at the vanity. I handed her the wine and showered myself. I lathered carefully, checking for any tan line around the black Cobra. Nothing obvious yet, though the rest of my skin had a nice golden glow.

I dressed before her and played on my phone for half an hour while she finished. We went to dinner, had more drinks at the hotel bar. Then her phone buzzed.

“Okay. Let’s go meet Bear and Timo.”

Bear was waiting outside the bar. As we approached he told Kimberly she’d have to tell the bouncer she was in drag.

Her face dropped.

“Are you kidding me?”

Bear burst out laughing. “Of course I am.”

Inside, Sambuca shots were already lined up. Bear clapped me hard on the back and ordered “Toge” glass boots filled with beer. Exactly what it sounds like.The Germans did not relent. Shot after shot, drink after drink, waiting for the night’s entertainment.When it started, two go-go dancers appeared, naked except for armbands and what looked like black elastic bands constricting their very large, very erect cocks. They worked the crowd, stroking themselves, until one dropped to his knees and deep-throated the other in one smooth motion.

“Oh my God,” Kimberly breathed.

“Excuse me?”

She looked at me. “Don’t give me that. I’ve caught you jerking off to lesbian porn before.”

I was taken aback, then muttered, “Lesbians are universally loved.”

“You want to ask all the guys in here if they agree?”

I was ready to drop it, but she leaned closer. “It’s a power thing, you know. That’s a big cock. It’s impressive to handle it. Seeing him take it is… if I had a penis, that’s what I’d want a guy to do.”

I stared. “Are you telling me you get aroused at the thought of me sucking a cock?”

“No. Not you. I’m just saying I can look at something. Like when you watch lesbian porn, you don’t imagine being a girl, do you?”

“No.”

“Same sort of thing.”

“But you just said you imagine being the guy in this scenario.”

“Yeah, because I’m usually the girl.” She sighed. 

“You’re confusing the fuck out of me now.” I told her.

“It’s like when I wanted to peg you. I was desperate. It was an itch I couldn’t scratch. We bought everything, I did it, I thought I was shit at it, and we’ve never done it again because it ruined the illusion. I just wish I hadn’t spent the best part of two hundred quid on a harness and dildo.”

“You’ve got your value for money out of it.”

She pulled a wry smile. “Yes I did. Just not for its intended purpose.”

The drinks kept flowing. The outrageousness grew. Some of the locked guys got pantsed. There was open fellatio on the dance floor. It was a lot. Kimberly seemed to love every second of it. I felt increasingly out of place.

Eventually she was properly drunk. Bear insisted on getting us a cab, I accepted because of her state.

In the taxi she announced she was going to suck me dry better than any of the gay guys could dream. She took my right hand, slipped my thumb into her mouth, and started performing wet, enthusiastic oral on it. My cock stirred uselessly inside the black Cobra, pressing hard against the tube.

When she decided my thumb had “come,” she sat up, smiled, kissed the tip of my nose, and whispered, “I can’t wait for you to fuck me with that big old sleeve back at the hotel.” Then she collapsed across my lap.

Once out of the taxi it was obvious she was gone. She couldn’t stand properly, kept falling, words slurring. I had to carry her back to the room. The mood was dead for me.

Inside she yanked out her earrings, kicked off her shoes, and started listing everything she wanted done to her pussy. She unhooked her dress, it dropped to the floor, leaving her in the matching white lace set.

“Strap up,” she ordered drunkenly. “My pussy needs to be filled.” She fell back onto the bed.

“I don’t think you’re in the right mind right now, Kimberly…”

“I said dick me now, bitch.” I walked to the suitcase and started unzipping it, only to hear snores.

“Told you so,” I muttered.I tucked her in, brushed my teeth, stripped naked down to the black Cobra, and climbed into bed beside her.

I woke groggily to a loud buzzing and the words, “Fuck me. Yes. That’s where you belong. Yes, bitch. Fuck yeah. Fuck yeah. Fuck yeah.”

The sheets had been kicked off. Kimberly had pulled her white thong aside and was pressing the magic wand hard against her clit, grinding her hips, forcing herself toward orgasm.

My cock immediately tried to swell inside the cage, the pressure sudden and intense. I leaned in to kiss her neck, letting her know I was awake.

“No. Too late,” she panted. “I’m almost there.”

“Can I get the key and unlock?”

She grunted, reached to the nightstand, and threw the second wand at me. “You can cum like a girl.”

I sat there, hard and trapped, holding the wand.

“Are you cumming or not?” She screamed.

I turned it on and pressed it against the cage. The vibration shot straight through the black polycarbonate.

“Lay down,” she ordered.

I lay beside her. She kept her own wand working with her left hand, pressed hard against her clit. Her right hand grabbed my thigh, nails digging in.

“Cum with me. Cum with me,” she ordered. “Cum with me, come with me,” she begged.

The wand hadn’t been on the cage a full minute before semen started shooting out of the tip slit in thick, involuntary pulses, forced out by the relentless vibration against the locked, restricted flesh. It spilled over the black tube, ran down my balls, and kept coming in helpless spurts. As Kimberly finished she switched her wand off, tossed it aside, dropped her head onto my chest, and immediately passed out, mumbling incoherent nonsense. I lay flat on my back, still locked in the black Cobra, feeling my own cum run down my thigh, between my arse cheeks, and pool beneath me, wondering what the hell had just happened.

To be continued…