Caged.

The appeal defied logic. Metal bars represented being trapped, vulnerable to a captor, didn’t they? And yet…

This wasn’t our first time staying at an adult-themed rental house, but this was extremely different from the isolated cabins we’d previously experienced. This was a one-story ranch-style house in a busy, but quiet, neighborhood, right next door to the post office.

The exterior gave nothing away. It looked like a typical older home with a porch swing that was both welcoming and charming. Squirrels and birds chittered and chattered, making the scene very homey. But once inside, the vibe changed entirely.

The house was a collection of rooms, each decked out with bondage furniture designed to delight the most decadent inhabitants. The windows were discreetly covered, and every room had a dimmer switch so the lighting could match the mood.

The first room had a life-sized bird cage, complete with a swing, that I’d been coveting since first seeing a picture of it online. To say it intrigued me would be an understatement. Across the room stood a suspension bondage rig for rope play, and a throne-style chair just right for a Master wishing to sit back and be entertained by his obedient sub. I closed my eyes for a moment and felt a tingle of arousal course through my veins as I imagined myself behind those bars… caged.

I shook off the moment and meandered to the next room that sported a large St. Andrew’s Cross, a red leather sex swing, and a plethora of impact play implements from the very mild to the very wild. Feathers and floggers, whips and paddles, and a woven cane hung carefully on a rack, waiting to be selected for use on the backside of a slut.

The third playroom contained a kennel-style cage, an adjustable stockade, and a deluxe leather spanking bench, which was the perfect height for a double-penetration experience.

In addition to these rooms, there was a large bedroom, accessed by walking through ceiling-to-floor plastic chains, with a relatively typical king-sized bed and a not-so-typical bondage chair in the corner.

The dining room was stocked with dishes and glassware that completed the house's Victorian theme; the black-and-white chairs and gold tablecloth gave it an extravagant look and feel. There were plenty of folding chairs available if one were hosting a munch or a play party.

But we weren’t here to host a group; we had come to spend two nights away from the hectic vanilla world, where we could block out the outside (literally) and let our kinks come out of the box.

Life had been kicking our asses lately, and while we were looking forward to the entire vacation, the two nights scheduled at a Bed and Bondage VRBO seemed like an outstanding way to kick things off.

We’d discussed finding others to include in our fun, perhaps a man with a big, black cock. Or maybe a woman whose pussy I could lick and play with. But neither scenario worked out, which was fine. It’s been a while since we’ve been anything besides monogamous, and I was rather enjoying belonging only to him. Besides, there were so many gadgets and gizmos to explore that we wouldn’t have time to devote any attention to others.

Two outfits had been newly purchased for this adventure. For the first night, I donned the royal blue lacy crotchless teddy, which created the desired effect: he looked like he could gobble me up in big, greedy bites. With lust in his eyes and a rock-hard cock, he took me by the hand and led me to the spanking bench. I didn’t need to be told what to do; I climbed up and presented myself, exposing my dripping pussy and my puckered star.

Once the straps of the bench were securely fastened to hold me in place, he ran his hand over my ass, then gave it a firm slap.

“Mine,” he declared.

“Yes, Sir. Yours.”

“Mmm…”

Although I was not blindfolded, the lighting was dim, and I could not move my head enough to see behind me. Using this to his advantage, he took me by surprise, teasing my ass and the back of my thighs with a feather stick instead of the spanking I was expecting.

“All in good time,” he murmured, sensing my surprise.

The sensations of the soft feathers gliding erotically along my skin had me incredibly turned on, partly because of how delicious it felt and partly because I was trying to anticipate the initial strike of leather against flesh.

He took his time, tormenting every inch of my body with the silky plumes until I was lulled into a dreamy, complacent state of arousal.

The sting of the paddle came quickly, startling me into a scream.

“That’s right, scream for me. No one can hear you; be as loud as you want.”

Stroke after stroke, the stinging grew more delicious as I imagined my creamy ass turning bright pink. The louder I cried out, the harder the swats became, until tears streamed down my face and my body convulsed as I came hard, drenching the bench.

He rubbed his hand over each ass cheek to soothe the angry skin before selecting another implement with which to redden my backside further. Each time contact was made, the delicious pain took me deeper still until I slid into a euphoric subspace.

Seemingly satisfied by the crimson hue spreading across my tortured ass, he forced multiple orgasms with my vibrating wand until the incredible mix of pleasure and pain had my holes aching to be filled.

And fill me, he did!

First, with the aid of a strap-on, he filled my pussy with both his own cock and the silicone phallus. His thrusts were relentless, and the feeling of being literally stuffed with cock pushed me over the edge into a continual wave of orgasms. At some point, he pressed his thumb against my puckered star until it gave way and accepted the thick digit inside.

I screamed incoherently, but he understood exactly what I needed.

Within seconds, he resumed thrusting; only this time, he was ravaging my pussy while the strap-on dick pummeled my tight back door. Instinctively, I raised up and pushed back against him, taking both cocks deeper and deeper, each forceful stroke a delightful reminder that I belonged to him and was his to use.

I lost track of orgasms as they all seemed to roll into one big, continual climax.

He slowed down, then eased out, and I was left wondering if he was done with me. I knew he hadn’t cum, despite the relentless fucking. My throat was raw from the mix of panting and screaming, but suddenly, his cock, drenched in my nectar, was pushed against my lips.

“Open your mouth, slut. Taste your sweet juices. I know you enjoy that flavor, don’t you, you dirty little whore. But there are no pussies for you to eat at the moment, just my hot, hard cock.”

My lips parted as he slowly slid between them. Soon, he was lodged in my throat, grabbing handfuls of disheveled red locks as he fucked my face without mercy.

I gasped for breath between moments of having my air completely cut off as his fierce thrusts made obscene squelching noises that had him incredibly aroused.

Occasionally, a firm slap of his hand on my ass startled me enough to prevent me from totally losing consciousness. I was certain he planned to finish in my throat, and I welcomed the chance to please my Sir by drinking his seed.

However, before his balls tightened, he pulled out of my mouth, took his place behind me, still strapped securely to the spanking bench, and thrust into me, jackhammering my poor little cunt like a man possessed.

I came one final time, triggering his climax, and he filled me with his thick, hot cum.

Suddenly, I was alone, limp and breathless, still securely strapped to the bench. A mix of his cum with mine dripped out of my well-fucked pussy, and I felt utterly and thoroughly used.

Moments later, he unfastened the arm and leg restraints and gently lifted me off the bench. Guiding me to the large, walk-in shower, he turned on the faucet and held me while the pulsing hot water rained down on me.

“Wrap your arms around my neck,” he said, more a request than a command. His tone was softer now as he gently washed my body, lathering my skin with luxurious lavender body gel. His hands moved with precision, delicately cleansing every curve, soothing me in places where, moments before, he’d left his marks on me.

Taking a dollop of shampoo, he washed my mass of tangled, red curls, adding conditioner before the final rinse. When every inch of me was clean, he patted me dry with a fluffy bath towel and smoothed lotion into my skin, paying careful attention to those areas that he’d turned a bright red hue during our play time.

As he held me in bed that night, he murmured, “I love you so much. You’re the most amazing woman in the world. The way you give yourself to me is incredible. Not only do you put up with my salacious proclivities, but you also truly enjoy them.”

“I truly do,” I purred. “I love you so much, too. I love belonging to you. I love that we can push the limits, and yet, I still feel so incredibly safe with you. I enjoy knowing that you can give me what I need, take what you want, and that giving you complete control over my body brings us both such immense pleasure.”

“Get some sleep, my sweet little plaything. Tomorrow night, we shall explore the rest of what this wickedly fun house has to offer.”

After breakfast the next morning, we ventured out into the city to visit the aquarium and several museums. No one would suspect that a still-red bottom was hidden beneath my jeans. We looked like your average couple, enjoying being tourists for the day.

But under this ordinary visage lay the heart of a master and his slut.

Night number two was all about me. He still took his role as master very seriously, but I was allowed to choose what I wanted to experience. So, donning another slutty outfit, I walked into the room with the giant bird cage and said, “I want to be caged.”

He grinned.

After hoisting me up on the swing perch, he secured each ankle to the side of the cage, forcing my legs to open wide. When he failed to strap my arms to the metal bars and left the room without locking it, I was momentarily perplexed, but he soon returned with my vibrating wand.

He handed me the device, shut and locked the cage door, and pulled the throne chair closer.

“Entertain me, slut.”

I needed no further instructions. I turned the wand on and teased my clit while I watched his arousal grow obvious in his pants. The closer I got to climaxing, the larger his bulge grew. I eased up, wanting to make this last for both of us. It wasn’t every day I got to play caged slut on display, and I didn’t want to rush things.

He smiled knowingly.

He unzipped his pants and allowed his rigid pole to spring free. It stood majestically, as if ready and willing to impale me… but not yet. He stroked himself slowly, watching me masturbate for him in the cage.

I continued playing, my increased excitement feeding his growing lust. My nectar pooled, then trickled down the crack of my ass until it dripped on the wooden seat. His eyes narrowed as I panted and moaned.

“Make yourself cum for me,” he commanded curtly. “And don’t stop until I say so.”

Rubbing the head of the wand feverishly against my pearl and my glistening slit, I thrashed about inside the cage as my body teetered on the brink of orgasm for what felt like eternity. When I finally fell over the edge, my legs shook, and my pussy sprayed while I screamed, “Yesss! Goddd, yesss!”

Though we both knew he didn’t need to remind me, he did so anyway. “Don’t you dare stop yet, slut.”

While orgasm denial is not an uncommon practice in the BDSM world, I was fortunate enough to have a master who preferred forced climaxing. My body convulsed over and over as I held the wand obediently in place. Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more stimulation, he told me to stop. His ability to read my facial expressions and my body language is part of why it’s so easy for me to be submissive to him. I know he’ll push me to my limits and even beyond, but never to the point where my enjoyment isn’t a key factor.

In my orgasmic haze, it occurred to me how ironic it was that being caged should make me feel incredibly free. Free to let go of my proper public image and allow myself to be owned and used. There was nothing about it that made me feel cheap or demeaned, but rather, I felt alive and validated. It was extraordinary.

Moments later, I was out of the cage and on my knees, with my pussy still throbbing and dripping, and his engorged cock filling my mouth.

“Good girl,” he moaned as he grabbed hold of my head and pushed himself into my throat.

It was a heady feeling, no pun intended, to know that I had the power to take his arousal to new heights with my oral skills. My tongue swirled, my throat hummed, and my fingers did magical things to his balls.

The lewd gurgling noises of his dick drilling into my throat echoed throughout the high-ceilinged room. There were moments where I could barely breathe… and I loved every second of it. There’s a certain thrill of knowing I can trust him to push things to the limit without me ever needing to use a safe word. Don’t get me wrong, I have one—I just can’t recall the last time I needed to utter it. That level of trust is what I find ridiculously arousing.

And I wanted to show that trust even more by taking things further.

As if reading my mind, he motioned for me to stop and stand up. I grinned, knowing that the next level was about to begin.

Soon, my legs were secured to the bottom of the St. Andrew’s Cross. However, my diminutive stature made it impossible to secure my arms. Never one to be daunted by a minute hurdle, he grabbed some rope and MacGyvered restraints that held my wrists captive.

I felt a delicious shiver run up my spine as I stood helpless, my arms and legs spread wide as he selected a variety of impact implements from the rack: floggers, crops, and paddles, each designed to redden the creamy flesh of my bottom.

I will never know what made him decide to flog my upper back. He’d never done so before. But in doing so, we stumbled upon a decadent secret—I fucking loved it!

“Oh, that turns you on, does it, slut?” he said, more a comment than a query.

“God, yes!”

“It shouldn’t surprise me; your back has always been sensitive whenever I’ve run my fingers along your skin. But what a delight to be discovering something new, even after all this time together.”

Several items did nothing for me. But then he selected a flogger that had my body writhing in arousal. Each time the leather bit into my back, my ass, and the back of my thighs, I found myself one step closer to climaxing, to losing myself in the utter bliss of being… being what? My brain was too addled by this point to find the proper word for it.

It didn’t matter.

The feeling didn’t need a label.

Too far gone to remember if I was supposed to ask permission to cum or not, I simply allowed my body to respond to his incredible brand of torment.

“Oh, fuckkk!” I screamed as my body trembled and my pussy squirted. “Goddd, yess! Yesss! Yesss!”

“That’s so fucking hot,” he mused, the pride obvious in his tone.

Was he proud of me for coming so violently? Or pleased with himself for his ability to make me cum without any direct contact with my cunt?

Probably both, I thought, smirking.

“More?”

“Yes. Please. Sir.”

“Good girl.”

He used several other gadgets, but none were as effective as the little white flogger. I would learn later that he took note of the brand and ordered one for our own collection.

After the cross, we attempted to use the sex swing. It wasn’t the first time we’d tried one, but it will likely be the last. I have read about people who enjoy these apparatuses, but I find them awkward and uncomfortable, and not much of a turn-on. But it was there, so we had to give it a go, I suppose, to check all the boxes.

Back in the room with the spanking bench, there was another cage. This one was sitting on the floor and could house a large pet. Without a word, he opened the door, and I obediently fell to my hands and knees and crawled inside. Caged once again, I felt liberated. I was free to be the slutty little pet we both loved me to be.

Lying on my back with my legs spread open, I abused my pussy again and again with my wand turned up to the highest setting. I did my best to prolong each orgasm to extend his viewing pleasure. By the time he opened the cage door, my pussy throbbed, and my legs shook uncontrollably.

He helped guide me from one type of confinement to another, as I crawled out of the cage and over to the medieval stockade. I watched as he lifted the wooden slab and obediently inserted my arms and head into the smooth grooves. Once lowered and fastened, the contraption held my neck and wrists captive, while my position on my hands and knees displayed my dripping sex, vulnerable and ready for his use.

He used all my holes while the stockade held me captive. I was, in every sense, like a sexual prisoner. Yet, I’d never felt freer or more alive. Trusting him to take what he wanted and give me even more in return was remarkably gratifying in a multitude of ways. My mind, body, and spirit were ignited in flames of desire and arousal.

Eventually, my hands started to fall asleep, so he removed the bar and left me untethered. I slumped down on the floor, having reached the point of exhaustion, but perked up when I remembered there was one more decadent thing I wanted to try. I motioned with my head to the bedroom where the bondage chair was calling my name. Within moments, his nimble fingers had my ankles, wrists, torso, and neck tightly bound to the sex chair, with my gaping pussy centered over the convenient hole in the seat.

My wand was buzzing again, pressed wickedly against my clit. I was panting and writhing in the chair. Intense arousal had my entire body shaking as each climax piggybacked onto the one before, until it felt like one big, giant orgasmic wave. Just when I thought I would need to beg him for mercy, he stopped, leaving me limp and sated.

Gently, he unfastened all the buckles of the leather straps and lifted me off the chair and onto the bed. He rolled me on my side so my back was facing him and took me from behind, slowly at first. With one hand gripping my hip and the other grasping my hair into a makeshift ponytail, he picked up the pace, fucking me hard as though his life depended on it.

“Ohhh, fuckkk!” I cried as another orgasm ripped through me like wildfire.

“Good girl. Take my cock! I’m so fucking hard and hot for you, I’m going to explode deep inside you and fill you with my seed.”

I mumbled something that sounded like mmm-hmmm, and he jackhammered into my well-used hole, with his hard shaft banging against my cervix, until his balls let go and he deposited his thick cum in his favorite receptacle.

With ragged, panting breaths and our hearts pounding wildly, he gathered me into his arms and spooned me. When he could speak coherently, he whispered, “I love you, baby. I hope this night was everything you thought it would be.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I answered with a dreamy sigh. “And then some. I love you, too.”

“Would you stay here again?” he queried.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” I laughed. “This was incredible! Besides, we need to come back and try out the suspension bondage rig. I’d say we could do it now, but I can’t move. You’ve fucked me into oblivion. I feel like a wasted ragdoll.”

He laughed. “Good, because I don’t think I can move either.”

We were quiet for a moment. Then he asked, “Favorite part?”

“Hmmm… everything was incredible. But if I must choose only one thing…”

We answered together, “Being caged.”

We didn’t get up to get ready for bed that night, unwilling and unable to convince ourselves to move. Instead, he set an alarm to wake up early so we would have time to shower in the morning.

Drifting off to sleep, with his cum leaking out of my sore, well-fucked pussy, I felt so lucky that the universe put us in each other’s paths all those years ago.

My eyes popped open suddenly, realizing in horror that I’d shared my location on my phone with our grown-up kids before we left on our travels.

“Get your head back out of mom mode and go to sleep, baby,” he admonished me, reading my thoughts. “I guarantee the kids aren’t paying attention to where we are.”

He was right.

At least I hoped he was.

I shuddered at the thought of any of them knowing how much I enjoyed being…

…caged.