Chapter 3: Rising Action
The sun streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the cold, modern kitchen. Lewis stood at the counter, his hands deftly cracking eggs into a bowl, the sound of the shells hitting the trash can the only noise breaking the silence. He was dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers and a pair of black lace panties, the fabric of the thong riding up his ass, a constant reminder of his humiliation. He could feel the weight of it, the pressure against his skin, a constant ache that never seemed to go away.
He hadn't come in days, not since Paula had locked him away, and he was desperate for release. She knew it too, could see it in the way he squirmed, the way he licked his lips, the way his cock strained against his cage. She loved it, loved the control she had over him, loved the way he begged for her touch, for her attention, for her fucking approval.
He turned to face her, his eyes flicking down to the outfit laid out on the bed. A black leather corset, a red plaid skirt so short it barely covered his ass, fishnet stockings, and a pair of knee-high boots.
Lewis swallowed hard, his eyes widening as he took in the outfit. He knew what this meant, knew what Paula wanted from him. He could feel his cock throbbing painfully in its cage, aching for release, yet knowing he wouldn't get any.
Paula walked into the bedroom, her eyes scanning his body, a smirk playing on her lips. "You look nervous, Lewis," she taunted, her voice as cold as ice.
Lewis licked his lips, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I... I'm not used to wearing things like this, Mistress," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.