Chapter 10: Party Humiliation
A week after the humiliating blowjob in front of Maeve and Sera, Arthur got a text from Sera inviting him to a party at her apartment on Saturday.
He had spent the week in a haze of shame and arousal, his body still buzzing from the memory of Marcus' cock in his mouth and Maeve's pussy against his face. The cage had become a constant, cruel reminder of his submission, its cold steel pressing against his thighs every time he sat down. He had tried to remove it, but the lock was unbreakable, and the thought of being caught without it terrified him.
The message was short and to the point. "Party at my place. Saturday at 7pm. Be there or else. Sera."
Arthur knew not to disobey. The cage around his cock was tight and the memory of the pain she could cause at the mere touch of a button had him weak in the knees. He typed out a quick reply. "Yes, Goddess"
---
**Saturday Evening**
The city was alive with the hum of weekend energy as Arthur stepped out of the subway station, his heart pounding in his chest.
The air was thick with the scent of rain and exhaust, the neon glow of bars and restaurants casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the wet pavement. He adjusted the collar of his coat, the fabric stiff and unfamiliar against his skin. He had spent an hour in front of the mirror, trying to perfect an outfit that would please Sera—something that balanced professionalism with submission. He had settled on a dark grey suit, the fabric tailored to his lean frame, a crisp white shirt underneath. The suit was new, purchased that afternoon after he had meticulously cleaned his ruined clothes from the previous encounter. He had even splurged on a new pair of polished black shoes, their leather gleaming under the streetlights.
The cage was still there, of course—always there—its presence a constant, unyielding weight between his legs. He had tried to ignore it, to pretend it wasn’t there, but the moment he sat down in the subway, the pressure of the metal against his flesh had sent a fresh wave of humiliation crashing over him.
The walk to Sera’s building was a blur. The city pulsed around him—laughter from a nearby bar, the distant wail of a police siren, the rhythmic click of high heels against pavement. He kept his head down, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat, his breath fogging in the cold air.
The cage shifted with each step, its weight a cruel counterpoint to the lightness of his gait. He had spent the week obsessing over it—studying the lock, tracing the cold metal bars with trembling fingers, even attempting (and failing) to pry it open with a butter knife in the privacy of his apartment. The realization that he was truly trapped had settled over him like a second skin.
The doorman at Sera’s building nodded at him as he approached, recognition flickering in his eyes. Arthur’s stomach twisted. Had he been here before? Did they all know what he was? The man’s expression remained neutral, but Arthur swore he saw a flicker of something—amusement?
Pity?—in the doorman’s eyes. The elevator ride up was a slow, suffocating ascent. The mirrored walls reflected Arthur’s distorted face back at him. He noticed another woman on the elevator with him looking at him strangely. Had she been there the other day when he had made his ride of shame back to the street?
The doors slid open with a soft *ding*, and the loft unfolded before him like a nightmare made real. The space was alive with movement and sound—laughter, the clink of glasses, the low hum of conversation.
The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, leather, and something sharper, something that made Arthur’s stomach clench: the metallic tang of anticipation. The loft had been transformed since his last visit. The exposed brick walls were draped in black silk, the industrial lighting softened by crimson and gold lanterns that cast a warm, sinful glow over the crowd. A long table laden with champagne flutes and crystal decanters stood near the entrance, its polished surface reflecting the flickering candlelight like a dark mirror.
Arthur hesitated just past the threshold, his polished shoes sinking slightly into the plush rug beneath his feet.
The loft was a living organism, pulsing with the energy of its inhabitants. His gaze darted across the room, taking in the scene with a mixture of dread and fascination.
The crowd was a carefully curated collection of dominance and submission, a symphony of power dynamics playing out in real time. Women in sleek black dresses and towering heels moved with the confidence of predators, their laughter sharp and knowing. Men in tailored suits stood with the easy arrogance of those who had never known the sting of humiliation, their eyes roving over the room with the detached curiosity of collectors at an auction.
The air hummed with the low thrum of conversation, the clink of crystal, the occasional burst of laughter that cut through the murmurs like a blade.
Arthur’s fingers tightened around the strap of his messenger bag, his knuckles whitening as he took in the scene. He noticed Maeve and Sera talking in a corner with Marcus and a dark haired woman in a sleek black dress.
The woman had a lithe, athletic build and a confident smirk that made Arthur’s stomach twist. She stood with her back to him, her dark curls cascading over her shoulders as she laughed at something Maeve said. The sound was rich and throaty, the kind of laugh that commanded attention.
Arthur’s pulse quickened as he recognized her—Vanessa. He had heard her name whispered in Sera’s texts, always with a tone of reverence. She was known for her dobermans, the way she trained them to use slaves like living sex toys. The thought of those powerful jaws clamping around his throat made his breath hitch.
Sera’s eyes flicked toward the door, catching sight of him.
A slow, predatory smile curled her lips as she leaned in to whisper something to Vanessa. The woman turned, her dark eyes locking onto Arthur with the precision of a hunter spotting prey. Her lips parted in a knowing smile, as if she had been expecting him.
Arthur’s breath hitched. The cage between his thighs seemed to tighten, the cold metal pressing against his skin like a cruel reminder of his place. He forced himself to stand straighter, his fingers flexing at his sides as he tried to appear composed.
Vanessa’s gaze raked over him, lingering on the way his suit strained slightly over his shoulders, the way his tie was knotted just a little too tightly.
She took a slow sip of her wine, her dark eyes never leaving his face. “Well, well,” she murmured, her voice like velvet wrapped around a blade. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
Arthur’s throat went dry. He could feel the weight of the cage between his legs, the unyielding steel pressing against his flesh, a constant reminder of his submission. The loft seemed to close in around him, the air thick with the scent of leather, whiskey, and something sharper—something that made his pulse quicken in spite of himself.
Sera stepped forward, her heels clicking against the polished concrete floor.
The sound echoed through the loft like a slow, deliberate countdown. Arthur’s breath hitched as she approached, her presence commanding the space around her. The air between them crackled with tension, the kind that made his skin prickle with anticipation and dread.
She stopped just inches from him, close enough that he could smell the faint scent of her perfume—something dark and floral, with an undercurrent of something sharper, like black pepper. Her fingers traced the lapel of his suit jacket, her touch light but deliberate. “You clean up well,” she murmured, her voice low enough that only he could hear. “But then again, I knew you would.”
Arthur swallowed hard, his throat tight.
The weight of the cage between his thighs seemed to grow heavier with every passing second, the cold metal pressing into his flesh like a cruel reminder of his place. He could feel the eyes of the other guests on him—curious, assessing, amused. The loft buzzed with the low hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, the occasional burst of laughter that cut through the air like a blade.
Sera’s fingers lingered on his lapel, her touch light but deliberate. “You’re trembling,” she observed, her voice a low purr. “Are you nervous, little accountant?”
Arthur’s breath hitched.
The air in the loft felt suddenly too thick, too warm, as if the very atmosphere had conspired to press in on him. Sera’s fingers traced the edge of his collar, her touch light but deliberate, like the first brush of a predator testing its prey. The scent of her perfume—dark, floral, with that sharp undercurrent of black pepper—filled his nostrils, intoxicating and suffocating all at once.
"You should be nervous. I have such an exciting evening planned for you little bitch. But first, I should introduce you to some friends of mine." Sera said playfully.
"You remember Marcus, of course."
Arthur’s gaze flicked toward the imposing figure leaning against the bar, his broad shoulders straining against the fabric of his tailored suit. Marcus’ dark eyes met his, a slow, predatory smile curling his lips. The memory of that thick cock forcing its way down his throat flashed through Arthur’s mind, and his breath hitched. His fingers twitched at his sides, the phantom sensation of Marcus’ grip in his hair still fresh.
"Of course," Arthur managed, his voice barely above a whisper. The word felt like sandpaper in his throat.
Sera’s lips curved into a knowing smirk.
"Good boy," she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Now, let me introduce you to Vanessa. She's been *very* eager to meet you."
Arthur’s stomach twisted as Vanessa stepped forward, her lithe frame moving with the fluid grace of a predator. The dim light caught the dark curls cascading over her shoulders, framing a face that was all sharp angles and sensuous lips. Her dress clung to her like a second skin, the fabric shimmering with every movement, as if woven from liquid shadow.
"Arthur," Vanessa said, her voice a low, velvety purr that sent a shiver down his spine.
"I've heard so much about you."
Arthur swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. The cage between his thighs seemed to tighten, the cold metal pressing against his flesh as if sensing the danger in her presence. He could feel the weight of her gaze, dark and piercing, as she studied him with the intensity of a predator sizing up its prey.
Vanessa stepped closer, her heels clicking against the polished concrete floor. The scent of her perfume—something rich and musky, with an undercurrent of something darker—filled his nostrils, intoxicating and suffocating all at once.
Arthur’s breath hitched as she reached out, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw with a touch that was both possessive and appraising. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through his body, a sharp reminder of the cage that still encircled his cock, its cold metal bars pressing against his flesh like a silent warning.
Vanessa’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. “You're Sera's new pet and I heard you're quite the accomplished cock sucker.”
Vanessa’s fingernails traced the shell of Arthur's ear, her touch feather-light yet electric, like the first spark before a storm. The scent of her—dark amber and something muskier, like crushed roses left too long in the sun—filled his senses as she leaned in close enough for her breath to warm his cheek. “I wonder how well you’ll perform for me.”
Arthur’s pulse hammered in his throat. The cage between his thighs felt suddenly heavier, its cold steel pressing against his skin with cruel insistence. What had they planned for him? Was he going to be forced to suck cock again in front of this woman? Were the other guests going to witness his humiliation as well?
The thought made his stomach clench with a mix of dread and something darker, something that coiled low in his gut like a serpent.
Vanessa’s fingers trailed down his throat, her touch deliberate, possessive. "You're trembling," she murmured, her voice a dark velvet purr that sent a shiver down his spine. "Are you scared, little accountant? Or excited? Do you enjoy performing for us?" Vanessa asked, her voice a low, velvety purr that seemed to wrap around Arthur's senses like a silk scarf pulled tight. "Because I have a feeling you're going to be a very good boy for me."
Arthur’s breath caught in his throat. The cage between his thighs seemed to tighten, the cold metal pressing against his flesh with cruel insistence. He could feel the weight of Vanessa’s gaze, dark and piercing, as she studied him with the intensity of a predator sizing up its prey.
Sera standing beside them, laughed softly. "Oh, he will be a good boy all right, if he knows what's good for him." she said, lifting her hand and showing Arthur the remote control to his cage with her finger over the pain button.
Vanessa spoke up again. "You see, Arthur, I’ve heard all about your little session with Marcus and Maeve. How you took that thick cock so well, how you licked her pussy like a starving dog. And now, you’re going to do the same for me. But we plan to take it up a notch. Make your experience more interesting."
Maeve had also walked up to join the conversation. "Hey there, cock sucker. I can't wait to see you in action tonight. Just thinking about it has my pussy all wet."
Maeve said, her voice dripping with cruel amusement. "I can't wait to see you on your knees again, little bitch."
Arthur's breath hitched as the three women closed around him, their presence overwhelming. The scent of their perfumes mingled in the air—Vanessa's dark amber, Maeve's sharp citrus, Sera's intoxicating black pepper—creating a heady cocktail that made his head spin. The cage between his thighs seemed to tighten with every passing second, the cold metal pressing against his flesh like a cruel reminder of his place.
Sera spoke up then. "Let's get this party started. Come with me to the center of the room and I'll introduce you to your audience." Sera said with a cruel smile.
"Come."
The word was a command, not an invitation. Arthur’s body moved before his mind could protest, his polished shoes clicking against the concrete floor as he followed Sera toward the center of the loft. The crowd parted like the Red Sea before them, a sea of polished leather, silk, and knowing smiles. Arthur could feel the weight of their gazes on him, the heat of their curiosity burning into his skin.
The center of the loft had been transformed into a stage, bathed in the warm glow of crimson spotlights that cast long, sinister shadows across the floor.
A low, circular platform rose from the polished concrete, its surface covered in a plush black velvet that seemed to swallow the light. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat as he stepped onto it, the fabric yielding slightly beneath his polished shoes. The air was thick with anticipation, the low murmur of conversation dying into a hushed silence as all eyes turned toward him.
Sera stood at the edge of the platform, her presence commanding the room like a queen surveying her court. Her fingers traced the rim of her wineglass, the deep red liquid catching the light as she swirled it lazily. "Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, her voice rich and velvety, carrying effortlessly across the loft.
"Tonight, we have a very special guest of honor." A murmur rippled through the crowd, the air thick with curiosity. Arthur's pulse hammered in his throat as Sera's fingers traced the remote control in her pocket, her thumb brushing over the button that could send searing pain through his trapped cock at any moment.
Vanessa stepped forward, her heels clicking against the concrete like the ticking of a clock counting down. Her dark curls cascaded over her shoulders as she turned to face the gathered guests, her lips curling into a slow, predatory smile. "This is Arthur," she said, her voice dripping with amusement.
"A shy little accountant who has recently discovered that he has a submissive streak that is quite... *delicious*."
Her fingers traced the air as if painting him for the crowd, her gaze never leaving his face. Arthur felt his cheeks flush, the heat spreading down his neck and across his chest. The cage between his thighs seemed to tighten, the cold metal pressing against his flesh like a cruel reminder of his place.
"As many of you know," Sera continued, "Arthur has already had the pleasure of serving Marcus and Maeve.
But tonight, we have something *special* planned for him." She paused, letting the anticipation build like a storm gathering on the horizon. The crowd leaned in, their eyes gleaming with curiosity and dark hunger.
Arthur’s fingers twitched at his sides, his breath shallow. The spotlight above him felt like a physical weight, pressing him down into the plush velvet beneath his feet. He could feel the heat of the crowd’s gazes on his skin, their scrutiny like a thousand tiny needles pricking at his nerves. His suit suddenly felt too tight, the fabric clinging to his body like a second skin, suffocating him.
Vanessa stepped closer to him, her heels clicking against the platform with deliberate slowness.
The scent of her perfume—dark amber and something muskier, like crushed roses left too long in the sun—filled his senses as she leaned in close enough for her breath to warm his cheek. "You see, Arthur," she murmured, her voice a low, velvety purr that seemed to wrap around his senses like a silk scarf pulled tight, "I have a very particular taste for men like you. Men who know their place. Men who understand that their bodies exist for our pleasure."
Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, her touch feather-light yet electric, like the first spark before a storm.
"Tonight," she whispered, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, "you will learn what it truly means to be used." The words sent a jolt of electricity through his body, a sharp reminder of the cage that still encircled his cock, its cold metal bars pressing against his flesh like a silent warning. He could feel the weight of the crowd’s gaze on him, their curiosity and dark hunger pressing in like a physical force.
"Strip little bitch." Sera commanded.
"Strip for your audience." The command hung in the air like a blade suspended above his neck, sharp and inevitable. His fingers trembled as they reached for the first button of his crisp white shirt, the fabric stiff beneath his touch. The loft had fallen into a hushed silence, the low murmur of conversation dying into an anticipatory hush. Every eye in the room was fixed on him, their gazes burning into his skin like brands.
The crimson spotlights above cast long, sinister shadows across the platform, painting his body in shades of blood and gold.
Arthur’s breath came in shallow gasps as his fingers fumbled with the first button of his shirt. The fabric was crisp, starched—too perfect for what was about to happen. His hands shook, the tremor betraying the storm of emotions raging beneath his skin.
The crowd watched in rapt silence.
A woman in a deep emerald dress leaned forward, her lips parted slightly, her fingers tightening around the stem of her wineglass. Beside her, a man with a sharp jawline and a cruel smirk adjusted his cufflinks, his eyes never leaving Arthur’s trembling form. The air was thick with the scent of leather, whiskey, and something sharper—something that made his skin prickle with anticipation and dread.
The crowd leaned in, their eyes gleaming with dark hunger, their breath held in collective anticipation.
Arthur’s fingers trembled as they worked the first button free. The crisp white fabric of his shirt parted slightly, revealing the pale skin beneath. The cool air of the loft touched his chest, making his nipples pucker in response. He could feel the weight of the crowd’s gaze on him, their scrutiny like a thousand tiny needles pricking at his nerves.
He hesitated for a moment, and then methodically removed the rest of his clothes exposing his pale body to the crowd wearing nothing but his chastity cage. His heart pounded in his chest, the rhythm echoing in his ears like a drumbeat.
The air in the loft was thick with anticipation, the scent of leather and whiskey mingling with the sharp tang of sweat. Arthur stood exposed before the crowd, the cold metal of the chastity cage pressing against his skin like a brand. The weight of their gazes bore down on him, their eyes gleaming with hunger and amusement. He could feel the heat of their stares like a physical force, pressing in on him from all sides.
Vanessa put her fingers between her lips and blew a loud whistle. The crowd parted and Arthur saw two large doberman pincher's approach the stage.
Their sleek, muscular bodies moved with predatory grace, their dark eyes fixed on him with unsettling intensity. Their coats gleamed under the crimson lights, the muscles rippling beneath their black and tan fur as they padded forward. The clinking of their metal collars echoed through the loft, each step deliberate, each breath measured.
Vanessa's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Meet Zeus and Hera. They're my most... *enthusiastic* pets."
Arthur's breath caught in his throat as the dogs stopped at the edge of the platform, their nostrils flaring as they caught his scent.
The air between them crackled with tension, the kind that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The dogs' eyes—dark, intelligent, and unblinking—locked onto him with predatory focus. Their powerful jaws hung slightly open, pink tongues lolling, but there was nothing playful in their posture. They were predators, and he was prey.
Vanessa’s fingers traced the collar of the nearest dog, Zeus, her touch firm and commanding. The dog’s ears twitched at her touch, but his gaze never left Arthur. "Aren’t they magnificent?" she murmured, her voice dripping with dark amusement. "Trained to perfection they have learned to use my slaves for their sexual gratification. Hera prefers blowjobs, while Zeus here, prefers tight little bitch asses." Vanessa said with a wicked grin. "I think we'll start with Hera, don't you?"
Arthur's breath came in short, sharp gasps, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. The cold metal of the chastity cage pressed against his thighs, a cruel reminder of his vulnerability. The dogs' eyes gleamed under the crimson lights, their dark pupils reflecting the hunger of the crowd. The air was thick with anticipation, the scent of leather and sweat mingling with the metallic tang of fear.
Vanessa's fingers tightened around Zeus's collar, her nails digging into the thick leather. "Kneel," she commanded, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
Arthur was stunned into immobility. This couldn't be happening. Surely they didn't expect him to suck a dog dick. Not in front of all these people. It was unthinkable.
Suddenly the shock hit him, doubling him over in excruciating pain. It was worse than before and Arthur understood that Sera had turned up the pain level.
The agony was like a thousand needles piercing his trapped cock, shooting up through his groin and into his abdomen. His knees buckled, his body collapsing onto the plush velvet platform as his hands flew between his thighs, fingers clawing at the unyielding metal cage.
The crowd gasped collectively as Arthur writhed on the stage, his face contorted in a rictus of pain. His breath came in short, ragged bursts, his chest heaving as he tried to ride out the searing waves of agony. The cage was merciless, unrelenting, its cruel design ensuring that every nerve ending in his trapped flesh was being punished.
Arthur’s vision swam, the crimson spotlights blurring into streaks of molten fire as he gasped for breath. The velvet beneath his knees felt like a cloud compared to the agony radiating from between his thighs.
Vanessa’s voice cut through the haze of his suffering, sharp and amused. “Oh dear, did the little accountant forget his manners?” She crouched beside him, her dark curls spilling over her shoulder as she tilted his chin up with two fingers. “You’re supposed to be on your knees for Hera, remember?”
Arthur’s throat worked soundlessly. The pain had stolen his voice, leaving only a choked whimper in its wake.
"That's better." Sera said with a cruel laugh. "Maybe now, you'll behave properly." Vanessa said, her voice dripping with sadistic amusement as she stood up. She snapped her fingers, and Hera padded forward, her sleek black body moving with predatory grace. The dog's dark eyes locked onto Arthur's face, her pink tongue lolling slightly as she sniffed the air. The scent of his fear must have been intoxicating.
Arthur's breath came in short, ragged gasps as he remained kneeling on the velvet platform, his body trembling. The pain from the cage had subsided to a dull, throbbing ache, but the memory of its intensity still lingered, sharp and fresh.
"Start with your hand on the base of the sheath." Vanessa instructed. "Rub it back and forth until his cock comes out, then get your mouth around it and keep pumping the knot until I tell you to stop. He cums a lot and I want to make sure you get every last drop." she said with a laugh.
"I want to see you choke on it, little bitch. And if you do a good job, maybe I’ll let you keep your teeth."
Arthur’s fingers trembled as he reached for Hera’s sheath, the warm, velvety fur brushing against his knuckles. The dog’s cock was already swelling, the thick, pink flesh emerging from its protective folds with slow, deliberate intent. The air smelled of musk and something primal, something that made Arthur’s stomach twist with a mix of revulsion and dark fascination.
Hera’s tail wagged once, a slow, deliberate motion that sent a shiver down Arthur’s spine. He heard a collective gasp from the crowd around him as he gripped the sheath and started to massage it.
He could feel the thick, pulsing cock inside, growing harder with each stroke. The dog’s breath was hot against his face, her tongue lolling slightly as she watched him with dark, unblinking eyes. The scent of her musk filled his nostrils, thick and intoxicating, mingling with the leather and sweat of the loft.
Arthur’s fingers trembled as he worked, his stomach twisting with a mix of revulsion and dark fascination. The crowd around him was silent, their breath held in collective anticipation. He could feel their eyes on him, burning into his skin like brands.
The sheath parted slowly, revealing the thick, pink cock beneath.
It was larger than Arthur had expected, the shaft already swollen and glistening with a slick sheen of arousal. The knot at the base pulsed visibly, a grotesque promise of what was to come. His fingers trembled as he wrapped them around the base, the heat of the dog’s flesh searing against his palm. The crowd’s murmurs grew louder, a chorus of dark anticipation that pressed in around him like a physical force.
"Quit stalling and get it in your mouth, bitch." Sera commanded, her finger on the remote.
"Do it, or I'll make you regret it."
Arthur's fingers tightened around the base of Hera's cock, the thick shaft pulsing against his palm. He bent down close to the slimy pink cock. The scent of musk and something primal filled his nostrils, thick and intoxicating. His stomach twisted with a mix of revulsion and dark fascination but he knew better than to hesitate. The crowd gasped as he opened his mouth and slipped the cock in between his lips.
"OMG, he's really doing it. That's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen." said the woman in the emerald dress watching from the crowd.
Her voice was a mix of disgust and fascination as Arthur’s lips stretched around the thick, slick cock.
---
The first taste of Hera’s cock was nothing like Arthur had imagined.
The flesh was warm, almost feverish, and slick with a salty, musky pre-cum that coated his tongue like thick syrup. It pulsed against his lips, the veins along the shaft throbbing with a life of their own, as if the dog’s very heartbeat was being transmitted through the flesh.
The texture was strange—smooth yet textured, like velvet stretched over steel. Arthur’s breath hitched as he took more of it into his mouth, the thick shaft pressing against the roof of his mouth, forcing his jaw to stretch wider. The knot at the base pulsed, swollen and heavy, a grotesque promise of what was to come. As he sucked, he heard the jeers and comments from the crowd around him.