Chapter 2: The girls dominate and humiliate Rory
The lead was taut in Alice’s hand, a leather umbilical cord tethering Rory to her uncertain will. Jewels led the way up the narrow staircase to her apartment, her heels clicking a sharp rhythm on the worn treads. The smell of old carpet and other people’s cooking gave way, as she unlocked the door, to the dense aroma of sandalwood incense and beeswax.
Jewels’ apartment was exactly as Rory remembered, antique wooden floors and modern furniture, dark velvet curtains in a deep burgundy swallowed the light from a single, stained-glass lamp. Bookshelves bowed under the weight of obscure titles and weird figurines. The air was close, warm, and thick with a silence that felt weighted.
“Home sweet home,” Jewels said, throwing her keys into a ceramic bowl shaped like a grotesque, laughing face. She turned, her eyes appraising them.
“Right,” Jewels said, sinking into a large leather sofa armchair that seemed to engulf her slight frame. . “Rory. Strip. Everything but the cage and the lingerie. Let Alice see what you've got, if it meets her approval.”
The command hung in the incense-heavy air. Rory’s fingers, gone cold and clumsy, went to his shirt buttons. Each pop of a button felt like a surrender. He shrugged the shirt off, let it fall to the dark wooden floor. His belt buckle clinked, the zip rasped. He pushed his jeans and boxers down his legs, stepped out of them. He stood in the centre of the room, the cold air raising goosebumps on his skin. The black lace panties were a stark, humiliating contrast against his muscular, hairy thighs. The steel cage bulged obscenely beneath the delicate fabric, the padlock cold, ridiculous.
“You can let him off the lead, Alice. He won’t run. Where would he go? Back to Sarah, caged and wearing her knickers? I don’t think so." Alice unclipped the lead, her fingers brushing against the collar. She let the leather strap coil into her hand, her gaze not leaving Rory’s. There was a new set to her jaw, a thoughtful, almost scientific curiosity.
Alice moved to the sofa facing Rory, exposed and looking foolish and vulnerable. Jewels immediately curled into her, one hand resting on Alice’s stockinged thigh. She looked up at Rory, a smirk playing on her dark lips. “Look at him. Proud Rory. Always the handsome cocky man in charge. And now he’s just a piece of decor. A locked-up, lace-wearing ornament for two women.”
She tilted her face up to Alice’s and kissed her, a slow, deliberate press of lips that was more about demonstration than passion. Alice responded, a soft sound escaping her, her hand coming up to touch Jewels’ cheek. They broke apart, both looking at Rory.
“See?” Jewels said, her voice a conspiratorial whisper meant to carry. “He’s perfect for tonight. Completely safe. All that frustrated energy with nowhere to go but into service.” She traced a finger along Alice’s jawline. “I knew he’d be ideal for your… re-education. He’s house-trained.”
Alice laughed, a genuine, relieved sound. “He does look a bit pathetic.”
“Oh, he is.” Jewels’ eyes glinted with malice. “You should have seen him at a party at their house, a while ago. Sarah was busy, sucking some guy's cock and Rory was being his usual, strutting self. I took him upstairs to their bedroom. I told him I was going to fuck him and made him get Sarah’s strap-on. I knew she had one, because i fucked her with it once.”
Rory’s breath hitched. The memory, vivid and shameful, flooded back. The noise of the party below, the lavender scent of Sarah’s pillows.
“It was purple, ridged,” Jewels continued, watching Rory’s face pale. “I made him lick it clean, then bend over the foot of their marital bed. I fucked him with his wife’s cock until he was shaking. He came while i fucked him, all over their duvet, like a bitch in heat.”
Alice’s eyes were wide, her lips parted. She looked from Jewels to Rory, seeing the truth of the humiliation in the tight line of his mouth, the faint tremor in his caged groin. “Really?”
“Really. He loved it. He’s been secretly craving a repeat ever since.” Jewels gave Alice another quick, affirming kiss. “So tonight, we give him what he craves. And we take what we want. He’s yours to play with.”
Alice leaned back, studying Rory’s naked, caged form. The initial hesitation was gone, melted away by wine and revelation. A slow, calculating smile spread across her face. “His mouth looks useless just hanging open. My feet are killing me in these heels.”
Jewels grinned. “Perfect. Rory. On your knees. Crawl over here.”
The order cracked through the room. Rory’s limbs moved with a heavy obedience. The wooden floor was hard and unforgiving against his knees. He crawled the short distance to the sofa, the cage pulling heavily at him with each movement, the lace a constant, mocking whisper.
“Start with her shoes,” Jewels commanded, sipping her drink. “Use your teeth
He managed to get the heel of her court shoe between his teeth, the taste of salt and city grit immediate on his tongue. Alice watched, her breath shallow, as he pulled with a series of awkward, canine tugs. The shoe came off with a soft thud onto the rug, revealing a sheer black stocking, the seam a perfect line. Her foot, freed, flexed with a quiet sigh.
“Now the other one,” Alice murmured, her voice gaining a firmer edge. “Then kiss them. My arches are killing me.”
His obedience was fueled by deep, shameful need. When both her stockinged feet were before him, he bent lower, pressing his lips to the nylon-covered arch. He inhaled the intimate scent of leather, heat, and a faint, sweet powder. Jewels’ low chuckle was a soundtrack to his degradation.
“Good boy,” Alice sighed, her toes curling against his lips. “Use your tongue. Through the nylon.”
He licked a slow, wet stripe along her sole. The material gathered under his tongue, becoming damp and translucent. A soft moan escaped Alice, her head tilting back against the sofa. This sound, this evidence of her enjoyment derived from his abasement, sent a jolt of impossible arousal straight to his confined cock. It strained against its steel prison, a dull, aching throb.
“See how he comes alive?” Jewels said, her hand stroking Alice’s hair. “All his wiring is backwards. Humiliation is his electricity.” She shifted, standing up in one fluid motion. “I have an idea. A little art project. Keep him busy.”
Jewels walked to her small kitchen area, her heels clicking on the floor. Rory heard a drawer open and close. She returned holding a small, rustic bowl filled with ordinary wooden clothes pegs. They were simple, unvarnished, the kind found on a laundry line.
“These are perfect,” Jewels said, setting the bowl on the coffee table with a deliberate click. She plucked one out, squeezing the spring mechanism. It snapped open and shut with a sharp, punitive sound. “ Alice, your canvas awaits. Start with his nipples. Make them pretty for us.”
Alice’s eyes lit up with dark discovery. She took a peg from the bowl, her fingers testing its resistance. “Stand up, bitch” she told Rory, her voice no longer hesitant.
He rose, his body humming with vulnerability. Alice stood before him, her gaze level with his chest. She pinched his left nipple, rolling the toughened nub between her thumb and forefinger until it was erect and sensitive. He flinched, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his teeth.
“Don’t you dare pull away,” she whispered, and then she applied the peg.
The wooden jaws bit into the tender flesh with a shocking, focused pain. It was a bright, clamping agony that made his eyes water. Before he could adjust, she had his other nipple pinched and tormented, attaching the second peg. The twin pains sang a high, sharp duet across his chest. He looked down, seeing the mundane wooden clips dangling obscenely from his body.
“Beautiful,” Jewels purred, circling him. “Now for the masterpiece. His precious, shaved balls. The ones he prepared just for me.” She took a peg from the bowl and handed it to Alice. “You do it. Get a good pinch of scrotum. Don’t be gentle. He doesn’t deserve gentle.”
Alice knelt before him, her burgundy dress pooling around her. Her manicured hands took hold of his sac, which had tightened instinctively from fear and cold. She gathered a fold of loose skin, pulling it away from his trapped testicles. Rory gasped, his whole body tensing. The anticipation was a torture in itself.
She clipped the peg on.
The pain was different here—deeper, a crunch of sensitive tissue crushed in a vise. He cried out, a short, guttural sound he couldn’t contain. The weight of it pulled down, a constant, brutal reminder of his state. Jewels added a second, then a third, until a small cluster of wooden pegs dangled from his scrotum, each movement sending fresh waves of punitive sensation through his groin.
“Look at him,” Jewels said, her voice rich with satisfaction. “A decorated saint of submission. Now, to the corner. On your knees. Face the wall. Don’t you dare look back.”
Stumbling, each step sending jolts from his clipped flesh, Rory retreated to a dim corner of the room. The plaster wall was cool against his forehead. He heard the rustle of clothing, the whisper of zippers, the low, intimate laughter of the women.
“Come on, let’s get comfortable,” Jewels said. “Let’s really show him what he’s not allowed to touch.”
He listened, agonized, as their footsteps receded into the bedroom. The door didn’t fully close. He heard the muffled sounds of undressing, a belt dropping, a shared joke he couldn’t make out. The wait was an exquisite layer of torment over the physical pain. The cage felt heavier, the pegs sharper, his arousal a frantic, trapped animal within him.
Then they returned.
The change in the room’s energy was palpable. They moved differently. “You can look now, Rory,” Jewels commanded, her voice like smoked honey.
He turned, his vision blurred for a second before it focused. The sight stole the air from his lungs.
Jewels stood in a harness of sleek black leather, wearing nothing else but fishnet tights and her heels. The straps accentuated the sharp angles of her hips.
Beside her, Alice was a vision of lush, sensuality. She wore a matching set of black lingerie, all lace and sheer panels that clung to her full breasts and soft hips. The garter belts bit into her thighs, straps leading down to her sheer stockings. She held a coiled black leash in one hand, the other resting on a generous, silk-clad hip.
“You see, Alice?” Jewels said, her hand stroking the silicone cock at her pelvis. “He’s not a man right now. He’s a toy. A plaything for our entertainment.”
He lifted his chin, the leather collar pressing into his throat. Her eyes were dark pits of amused domination. "Open your mouth."
His jaw unclenched, his lips parting. She leaned over him, her spiked hair casting sharp shadows on her face. A thread of saliva gathered on her lower lip, then fell in a warm, wet streak onto his tongue. It was a casual violation, a bitter, intimate deposit. "Swallow it," she commanded.
He did, the act itself a deeper submission than the cage or the pegs. "Alice, darling, sit back down. Get comfortable. Open those gorgeous legs for our audience." Jewels pointed to the sofa.
Alice complied, settling back into the velvet cushions with a new, regal air. She slowly spread her legs, the sheer black stockings sighing against each other. The dark triangle of her lace panties revealed in the shadow between her thighs. "Now you, Rory. Take off Sarah's knickers. Slowly. Make a show of it for Alice."
His fingers hooked into the delicate lace waistband. He peeled the thin fabric down over the cold steel cage, over the cluster of biting wooden pegs, letting it fall to his ankles. He stepped out of them, completely naked now save for the cage, the collar, and the pegs The air felt shockingly direct on his exposed skin.
"Crawl. Between her legs. But don't you dare touch her. Not unless you're told."
He moved on hands and knees, the floorboards unforgiving. He positioned himself in the space between her knees, his face level with Alice's spread sex. "Closer, so you can smell her, but do not touch." The scent of her, musky and sweet with arousal, filled his nostrils. He kept his arms straight, his body rigid, maintaining a torturous couple inch of separation.
"Look at him," Jewels murmured, coming to stand beside Alice, her hand resting on her friend's shoulder. "Pathetic. All that desperate desire to fuck and no way to use it." She lifted her foot, the sharp stiletto heel glinting. "He's so proud of these, you know. Always flaunting his virility, his pants tight and thin at parties."
She placed the tip of her toes, peeping out of her sandals gently against his scrotum, just below the cruel cluster of pegs. The pressure was a soft silky, focused point. Then, with a controlled, dismissive flick of her ankle, she kicked upwards. It wasn't a hard blow, but it was perfectly aimed. The wooden pegs rattled, pinching anew, and a sickening bolt of nauseating pain radiated through his groin.
Rory grunted, his whole body flinching, but he held his position.
"See how they draw up?" Jewels said conversationally, using her toes to gently roll his captive testicles. The pegs shifted, digging in from new angles. "Like frightened little snails. This is where all that arrogant energy lives. And we've got it locked up."
Alice watched, rapt, her breath coming quicker. She reached down and casually trailed a finger over her own lace-covered clit, her eyes fixed on Jewels' manipulating foot.
Jewels then turned her foot, bringing the hard, pointed heel to rest against his arsehole. She applied gradual pressure, a slow, invasive promise. "And this," she continued, her voice a low taunt, "his ass, that he secretly wants us to use." She pushed the heel insistently, not breaking the skin but promising the threat of it, aiming it toward his clenched hole. "He came on his wife's bedspread getting fucked here. Remember that, Rory? Remember how you begged for it?"
He shuddered, a wave of shame and adrenaline washing through him. The heel was a cold, hard prod, a just entering him. Alice laughed, a low, husky sound of pure enjoyment, her finger circling faster on herself.
"This is what we do with boys who think they're men," Jewels said, her foot still working, now tracing the steel curve of the cage with her arch, now pressing that relentless heel against his anus. "We turn their own pathetic lust against them. We make them our play things."
Jewels removed her heel from his arse with a final, dismissive scrape. She walked to the sideboard and poured two fingers of amber liquor into a glass, the liquid catching the low light. "I think he's ready to please you," she said, her voice casual.
Alice nodded, her earlier nervousness completely transformed into a hungry authority. "On your back, Rory. Between my feet."
He obeyed, rolling onto his back on the rough Turkish rug, his body taught with denied need. The wooden pegs on his chest and scrotum pulled with every movement. Alice stood over him, placing one stockinged lightly resting on the steel cage. The pressure was excruciating and exquisite.
"You see this, Jewels?" Alice said, looking down at him with a predator's smile. "He's shaking."
"That's gratitude," Jewels replied, taking a slow sip from her glass. "It's the only language he has left. Now show him his purpose."
Alice kept her foot planted on his cage as she slowly, deliberately, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her lace knickers. She pushed them down over the curves of her hips, letting them slither down her stockings to pool around her ankles. She stepped out of them, kicking them aside.
She stood, exposed. . A thin strip of auburn curls glistened in the lamplight. Her bum big and round but firm and her pussy spouting, lips parted and already wet, a dark pink contrast to her pale skin. The tight pink pucker of her arsehole was just below.
"Now, Rory," Jewels said, her voice dropping into a directive hum. "You will serve Alice. Use that clever tongue. Worship her cunt, do not forget her arsehole. You will make her cum. That is what you are here for."
A desperate, whining sound escaped Rory’s throat. He was already straining against the unforgiving steel, his mind a riot of shame and sharp, biological urgency.
Alice squated over his face, one foot planted by each ear. She lowered herself, not all the way, just enough so the heat of her radiated onto his lips. The musky, intimate scent of her filled his sinuses, overwhelming the incense. "Open," she commanded.
He opened his mouth, his tongue extending automatically. She settled her weight onto him, her wet folds smearing against his chin and mouth. He felt the soft scratch of her pubic hair, then the smoother, hotter flesh beneath.
Rory’s tongue pushed out forward, finding the slit and tracing upwards in a long, flat stroke. Alice gasped above him, her hips giving a small, reflexive grind against his face. The taste was complex, salty and sweet and profoundly female. He focused, his world narrowing to the geography under his mouth. He located the hardened nub of her clit and circled it with firm, deliberate flicks.
"Yes, right there," Alice moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair, not guiding, just claiming. "Now lower. Lick my arse."
He obeyed, dragging his tongue down through her soaked channel, finding the tighter, crinkled ring of her arsehole. He pressed the flat of his tongue against it, lapping at it with the same devotion he’d given her cunt. The flavor shifted, more musky, more profoundly private. Alice cried out, a sharp, ragged sound of surprised pleasure.
"Fuck, he's good at that," she panted, rising up slightly to give him better access. "Don't stop."
He didn’t. He worked between her two openings, a filthy pendulum swing of devotion. He’d plunge his tongue deep into her cunt, fucking her with it, then pull back to tease and probe her arse, making her shiver and clench. Saliva and her own juices slicked his entire chin. The sounds were obscenely wet, rhythmic, and utterly absorbing.
"Get your thumb up there," Jewels instructed, her own breath slightly shallow. . "While you lick her clit. Stretch that pretty little arse."
Rory pulled back, gasping for air through his nose. He brought his hand up, his thumb slick with her wetness and his saliva. As he found her clit again with his tongue, sucking it gently, he pressed the pad of his thumb against her anus. It resisted, then yielded, the tight ring of muscle sucking the first knuckle in with a soft, hot pulse.
Alice screamed, her body bowing. "Oh god, yes! More!"
He pushed deeper, his thumb sinking to the base inside her, his tongue a frantic, swirling dance on her clit. He could feel her internal muscles fluttering around his thumb, could feel the entire architecture of her body tightening towards a peak. Her moans became a continuous, pleading stream of filth.
"Make me cum, bitch! Make me cum on your fucking face!"
He redoubled his efforts, his jaw aching, his thumb crooking inside her. He was a machine of service, every ounce of his own trapped, furious sexual energy channeled into this one task. The humiliation burned, but beneath it was a dark, undeniable current of lust as his cock strained in confinement
Her thighs clamped against his head, trembling violently. Her back arched in a perfect, strained curve. A raw, guttural shriek tore from her throat, and she ground herself down onto his mouth, convulsing. Wet heat flooded his lips and chin as she came, the pulses rhythmic and intense against his tongue and the intruding thumb. He kept working, gentler now, until her shuddering subsided and she collapsed sideways onto the rug beside him, breathing in ragged, satisfied gasps.
The room was silent except for their breathing. Rory lay there, her taste plastered across his face, his thumb still loosely resting in the hot clasp of her arse. The cage felt like a contained supernova.
Jewels set her glass down and started to unclip the pegs leaving sight red marks on his nipples and balls.