Chapter 13: A chaste pattern
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Jake came home at the end of the day to an empty house. He had stopped at the local market on the way home to pick up shrimp and wine for dinner. As he worked to prepare their dinner, his mind was filled with images of Margot and Jake together.
He could picture Jake's strong hands gripping Margot’s hips as he pounded into her from behind, her back arched, breasts swaying with each thrust. He imagined the sounds of their pleasure—Margot’s breathy moans, Jake’s guttural groans, the wet slap of their bodies meeting. The thought should have repulsed him, but instead, it sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through him, his tiny cock throbbing painfully against the unforgiving metal of the cage.
He shuddered, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He knew they were having sex right now just blocks away while he worked to prepare dinner.
He exhaled sharply, steadying himself against the counter as the mental image refused to leave his mind. The shrimp sizzled in the pan, the garlic aroma filling the kitchen, but all he could focus on was the memory of Margot’s thighs wrapped around Jake’s waist, Jake’s hands squeezing her perfect ass, Jake's thick cock slamming into her tight pussy.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to push the fantasy away. It wasn’t working. Instead, he gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles white, his cock straining painfully against the tiny cage. The metal dug into his flesh, a constant reminder of his new reality.
Derek’s breath hitched as the front door clicked shut behind Margot. She looked disheveled, but beautiful.
Her usually perfect hair was tousled, her lips swollen from kissing. Jake's scent, woodsy and masculine, clung to her skin. Without a word, she dropped her bag to the floor and kicked off her shoes.
"Mmm, that smells fantastic. I'm famished after all that amazing sex. Is it ready yet?"
Margot purred, leaning against the kitchen doorway, her blouse unbuttoned just enough to tease, her eyelids heavy with post-coital satisfaction.
Derek's breath caught in his throat. He had spent the entire evening imagining this exact scene, playing out every moment like an endless loop in his mind. He had preheated the shrimp scampi until they were golden and tender, the garlic and lemon sauce bubbling enticingly in the wide pan. A bottle of crisp chardonnay sat breathing on the counter.
"Yes, Goddess, I'll bring it to you." He stammered out as he fixed her plate and brought it to the table. She waited expectantly and he realized she was waiting for him to pull out her chair.
He rushed over, pulling the chair out for her with a flourish, before kneeling at her feet like a obedient dog. Margot took her first bite, savoring the shrimp, before taking a sip of wine.
"I need you down here, Derek." Margot commanded, pointing to the space on the floor between her legs. "You will be my personal chair tonight. I have spent the past twelve hours with a well-endowed man between my legs, and I want your face buried in my pussy while I finish my dinner."
Derek swallowed hard and crawled under the table on his knees, the floor hard and cool beneath his kneecaps. As he crawled towards her, Margot spread her legs giving him access under her skirt. In the darkness, he could see her lace panties smeared with a mixture of Jake's cum and her juices waiting for him. The smell was strong, musky, both familiar and foreign. He had eaten her out before, but never like *this*—while she ate, while Jake’s cum still coated her, while she did nothing but exhale satisfaction and sip wine from a crystal glass. That bottle of chardonnay arrived on the table with him—he’d paid for it at the store, yes, but now its price felt symbolic. A white cloth napkin had been folded over the rim of the glass like a lace doily, dripping with cultivated sophistication. He could barely recognize this life, this version of himself.
He pressed his face forward, mouth open, tongue out. The first touch was warm and slick where her arousal leaked through the lace.
He groaned low in his throat against damp fabric as he breathed in deeply. The scent was intoxicating. He could taste Jake there too—salt, musk, something primal that made his own cage feel even tighter around his trapped flesh. It should have been revolting, but it wasn’t—not anymore. Not when this was his role now: the obedient cleaner. The tasted, the used, the purged of others’ pleasure so she could start fresh.
He dragged the tip of his tongue up the center of her panties, starting at the soaked cleft and ending just below the clit, where he lingered.
Margot let out a soft sigh and shifted slightly in her chair, her thighs parting a fraction more, giving him better access.
“That’s right,” she murmured, her voice thick with quiet satisfaction. “Clean me properly.”
Derek obeyed, his tongue making slow, worshipful strokes through the fabric, pressing the lace against her skin so he could taste both of them together—her sweetness mingling with Jake’s salt. His muffled groans vibrated against her thigh, and he could feel her body relax into the chair, the small movements of her hips betraying how much she was enjoying it.
"OMG honey, you have no idea how much I enjoy Jake's thick cock. The way it stretches me, fills me. I'm addicted to it now." Margot sighed, her thighs pressing against his ears as he lapped at her through the lace.
The revelation twisted the knife inside him as she knew it would. He continued to lick, pulling her panties to the side so he could get deeper inside.
His eyes watered from the effort of staying perfectly still—no grinding against the floor, no seeking friction for himself, not while she held his face pressed against her like this. The cage bit into his softening flesh, a cruel promise of never being allowed release again unless she willed it. Which she wouldn't. Not for a very long time.
Margot smiled to herself as he lapped away. This was the life. Fantastic sex followed by a well prepared gourmet meal and a subservient husband licking her pussy.
Margot sat back, wine glass halfway to her lips, feeling every moment of perfection in this new life.
She looked down at Derek’s head between her thighs and smiled. He had no idea how much she was enjoying this. How much power it gave her.
Margot stretched one leg out from under the table, pushing her heel gently against Derek’s shoulder blades to press his face deeper into her. The lace of her panties was soaked through now, clinging to her skin as he lapped and sucked.
“Mmm, that’s it,” she murmured, taking another sip of wine. “Just like that.
Don’t stop—unless I tell you to.”
Margot arched her back slightly, the skirt riding up just enough to give Derek an even better view of her soaked panties, the lace clinging to the lips of her pussy. She could feel his breath hot and desperate against her folds, could hear the wet sounds of his tongue working through the fabric. A slow, satisfied smile curled her lips as she watched him from above, her wine glass still in hand.
The kitchen was warm, the scent of garlic and lemon from the shrimp lingering in the air, mingling with the musky aroma of sex and Derek’s desperate servitude.
Margot swirled her wine and took another sip as she felt her orgasm coming.
Her hips began to move slightly, rocking against Derek's face as her free hand reached down to play with her breasts through her blouse. She lifted her bare foot and tapped his cage making him groan in pain and turning him on more.
"Oh God... yes, right there..." she moaned, her voice throaty with desire. "You're doing so well, my little cleaning boy."
The praise made Derek's heart pound even harder. His tongue moved with renewed enthusiasm, lapping at her through the lace with desperate hunger. He could feel her body tightening up as she neared release, could hear the small gasps she tried to stifle.
Margot's breath hitched as pleasure crashed over her.
Her thighs clenched around Derek's head, trapping him in place as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. The wine glass slipped from her fingers, clattering against the dining table as her back arched and a soft cry escaped her lips. Derek's muffled groans vibrated through her, the vibrations of his pleasure making her shiver.
For a long moment, the only sounds in the kitchen were Margot's ragged breathing and the quiet wet noises of Derek's tongue working against her sensitive flesh. Finally, Margot slumped back in her chair with a contented sigh, her fingers absently stroking Derek's hair.
"Good boy. Now clean up this mess and you can rub my feet while I watch TV." Margot said as she slipped out from under the table. "Put on some nice music. Something instrumental, no lyrics. I want to think while ankle deep in relaxation."
Derek, still on his knees under the table, nodded rapidly, his face flushed with a mix of humiliation, arousal, and exhaustion. He carefully pulled her panties back into place, the lace clinging to her slick folds, before scrambling to his feet. His knees cracked in protest as he stood, but he didn't dare show any discomfort. Margot's approval was the only thing that mattered now.
Margot went into the bedroom and changed into some PJs while Derek cleaned up from dinner. Margot went into the living room, leaned back in the recliner and picked up the remote. She saw Derek watching her, and she pointed to her bare feet hanging off the footrest and raised one eyebrow.
He immediately went to his knees beside the chair, fingers trembling as he reached for her right foot.
"Start with the lavender oil," Margot said, gesturing toward the small bottle on the side table. “You remember how I like it?” She had used him as her personal foot masseuse before, but never quite like this—with the memory of another man’s cock still fresh between her legs.
Derek nodded, uncapping the bottle, his motions careful and deliberate. He poured a liberal amount of oil into his palm, rubbing his hands together to warm it before gently encircling her ankle with his fingers.
He worked to satisfy her as she flipped through channels. She completely ignored him other than the occasional Ahh, when he did something that really felt good.
Margot’s gaze lingered on the television screen, her mind drifting back to the appointment she had scheduled with Lena next Friday. The anticipation of what would happen during that session made her thighs clench involuntarily.
Derek rubbed her feet for over an hour, before she decided to get up and get ready for bed. As she stood, she looked down at his tiny cock swollen in its cage.
She tapped it with her toe and smiled when he whimpered softly. "You did well tonight, Derek. I'm proud of you," she said in a voice that was almost gentle, almost the Margot he had married all those years ago.
Derek looked up at her with tears in his eyes. "Thank you, Margot. I want to be whatever you need me to be."
She smiled and walked to the bedroom. He followed her like a puppy. After she brushed her teeth and got ready for bed, she turned to him. "Get in your side."
He nodded and slid into his own bed. She turned off the light and lay down, staring at the ceiling for a long time before finally drifting off to sleep.
For the next few days, the routine was the same. Every morning, Margot had Derek service her before work. She would stop by Jake's after work for some heavy sex, then come home to a fine dinner and Derek's service.
Derek's cage stayed locked and his frustration was growing. His need for an orgasm was becoming a painful thing, and he worked harder to satisfy her hoping she would feel pity on him.
But Margot seemed to enjoy his suffering more and more every day. She never unlocked him or even discussed his needs. She made him make her breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She made him massage her feet and back.
Derek noticed her smell changing. It was almost like the constant sex with Jake was marking her as his. She was starting to smell like him.
That woodsy, masculine scent that lingered on her clothes and skin like a brand. Derek caught it every time she walked by—a hint of sandalwood and something faintly citrus beneath, mixed with the musk of recent sex. Her pussy had a different smell, salty and musky. It wasn’t unpleasant, exactly. If anything, it was intoxicating in the way only a scent tied to obsession could be.
When Margot came home from work that day, she was even more disheveled than usual. Her blouse was unbuttoned one extra space at the top, the collar of her bra visible beneath. Her hair looked like someone—probably Jake—had been running their fingers through it.
The knowing smirk she wore as she dropped her bag and shoes made it all the more obvious. "I have something different for you today. Come over here and get down on your knees."
Margot's voice was a velvety command that sent a shiver down Derek's spine. He obeyed immediately, sinking to his knees on the hardwood floor in front of her. The cage around his cock pressed painfully against his thigh as he positioned himself, his eyes fixed on the floor in front of him.
Margot stood with her legs shoulder width apart, towering over him. She wore a tight pencil skirt that rode up slightly as she moved, showing the tops of her thighs. Her heels clicked against the floor as she stepped closer, her perfume filling his senses—something expensive and floral mixed with the musky scent of sex that always clung to her now.
She turned around in front of him and raised her dress. She wasn't wearing any panties, and she reached back and spread her cheeks exposing her asshole. Her ass was red and inflamed and Derek could see cum dripping out of it.
She had obviously been fucked in the ass by Jake’s thick cock and now used her body to remind him of what he wasn’t allowed to have. He couldn't believe she had given him her ass. Something she had never let him do in all their years of marriage.
Margot pushed her ass closer, the tip of his nose almost brushing against her entrance. "Clean it properly, Derek," she commanded, her voice dripping with authority. "Make sure you get every last drop of Jake’s cum out of me."
Derek’s breath hitched. He had never rimmed her before—never even considered it—but the thought of tasting another man’s mark on her made his cock swell painfully against the unforgiving cage. His fingers trembled as they gripped her ass cheeks, pulling them apart further, exposing her to him.
The sight was overwhelming—her pink, stretched entrance glistening with moisture, the faintest traces of semen already beginning to drip down her thighs. The scent hit him first: thick, musky, unmistakably *Jake’s* cum mingling with the smell of Margot’s ass. His stomach flipped with a mix of revulsion and arousal so intense it made his knees ache against the hardwood.
"This is what you’re good for now," Margot murmured, her voice soft but firm, almost maternal in the way she guided him. "Taking what’s been left inside me. My own personal ass wipe."
Derek swallowed hard, his throat dry. His mouth watered instinctively, but shame coiled in his gut like a knot.
The idea of doing this—of being reduced to nothing more than a tool for cleaning up another man’s mess—should have been humiliating beyond words. And yet, he couldn’t deny the way his cock strained against its cage, the metal digging into his flesh as if in approval.
He leaned forward, his breath ragged against her skin, and pressed his lips to the outer rim of her asshole. The first taste was warm, salty, thick with the residue of Jake’s climax. He flinched—before forcing himself to stay still, to breathe through his nose, to let his tongue take over.
The tip of his tongue slid along the sensitive flesh, tracing slow circles over her entrance, feeling the slight give of her hole, the warmth of her body, the unmistakable slickness of semen that had seeped back out. He groaned into her skin without meaning to, the sound muffled and animalistic.
Margot let out a soft, approving hum, her fingers tangling in his hair just slightly. “That’s it… just like that. Clean every inch of me. I want you to know exactly what you’re missing.”
Derek obeyed, his tongue moving with desperate precision, pushing gently inside when her muscles relaxed, lapping up the salty fluid, chasing every droplet.
The shame burned hot, but so did something else—something he refused to name, refused to feel.
Margot’s hips shifted slightly, a quiet encouragement. “Mmm… yes, just like that. Show me how badly you want to please me.”
Derek’s breath came in sharp, controlled bursts through his nose as he worked, his face pressed flush against her, his tongue dipping deeper with each pass. He could taste the mixture—her musk, Jake’s release, the faint metallic tang of semen. It was too much. Too intimate. Too *real*.
And yet, his body responded.
His cock, already swollen and trapped in the cage, ached with helpless desire.
The taste in his mouth was rich, almost visceral. He could feel the ridges of her rim against his tongue, the way her muscles fluttered involuntarily when he pressed too deep. A whimper escaped him, muffled against her skin, and Margot let out a breathy laugh.
“You really do love this, don’t you?” she murmured, her voice dripping with amusement. “Admit it—you love being my little ass wipe.”
Margot’s voice was a purr, her heels clicking against the hardwood as she shifted her weight slightly, literally sitting on his upturned face.
Derek’s throat tightened, his tongue faltering for just a second as shame and arousal warred inside him. The taste of Jake’s cum was thick on his tongue, mingling with Margot’s musk, and the intimacy of it made his stomach clench. He had never imagined himself doing something like this—never once in their thirteen years of marriage had he ever rimmed her, never mind with another man’s fluids still lingering inside. And yet here he was, kneeling on the floor with his face buried between her ass cheeks, lapping at her with desperate hunger.
Margot rubbed her clit as she sat on his face with his tongue up her ass. Letting Jake have her ass earlier was painful. She hadn't thought she could take it but she wanted to give him everything. Now, she was enjoying the soft tongue inside her. She was shocked at Derek's ability to take abuse and his need for degradation.
Margot rubbed her clit in slow, tightening circles as she squeezed her thighs around his ears, making it harder for him to breathe. His muffled moans vibrated against her skin, sending shudders through her own body.
"Look at you," she purred, watching his ass flex as he struggled to keep his tongue working despite the difficulty breathing. "Such a good little ass wipe."
She pressed down harder, letting her full weight rest on his face for a moment before lifting slightly to give him air - just enough to keep him from passing out, but not enough for real relief.
Derek’s muffled sobs vibrated against her skin, his tongue still working despite the pressure cutting off his airway. The salty taste of Jake’s cum mixed with her shit filled his mouth as Margot ground herself against his mouth in slow, deliberate circles, each movement sending another wave of humiliation crashing through him.
“You’re taking this so well,” she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction. “Such a good little ass cleaner for your wife. Say thank you for this privilege.”
Derek’s answer came out muffled and distorted around the flesh filling his mouth, his voice barely recognizable even to himself.
“Thank... thank you Margot...” he gasped between licks, his words coming in ragged bursts.
“Thank you… for the… honor.”
Margot’s laughter was low and velvety as she ground herself more insistently against his face, vigorously rubbing her clit with every movement. The pressure was exquisite—both suffocating and blissful in ways Derek couldn’t name. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, mixing with the sweat on his brow, but he didn’t dare stop. Couldn’t stop. This was penance. This was worship.
Above him, Margot let out a shuddering breath, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate figure-eights as she reached her orgasm.
She bit her lip to muffle the sound, her free hand gripping the back of the couch for balance. Derek’s muffled gasps and the wet sounds of his tongue working against her asshole were the only sounds in the room now.
When the trembling subsided, Margot finally lifted herself off his face with a wet *pop*, leaving Derek gasping for air, his lips glossy with their combined fluids. She stepped back, adjusting her skirt with practiced ease before smoothing her hair. Her pupils were still dilated, her chest rising and falling in steady breaths.
She looked down at him, her expression a mix of amusement and something darker.
“Stand up,” she instructed, her voice cool and controlled.
“Face the wall. Hands on the plaster. Don’t move until I tell you to.”
Derek scrambled to his feet, his knees cracking, his thighs slick with exertion and shame. The cage dug into his soft flesh with every stuttered breath, but the pain only sharpened the edges of his arousal. He shuffled across the kitchen, his socks whispering against the hardwood, and pressed his palms flat against the cool wall. His forehead rested against the surface, his breath fogging the paint in uneven clouds.
Margot watched him with lazy satisfaction, her fingers tracing idle patterns on her belly beneath her blouse. "You know I took a cock up my ass just so you could do that, don't you?"
Margot asked, her voice light, almost conversational, as she circled him like a predator sizing up prey. Her high heels clicked against the floor in a slow rhythm, each step deliberate, calculating. Derek didn't answer—couldn't answer—the words lodged in his throat like shards of glass.
She stopped just behind him, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body, could smell the sex clinging to her skin. The scent was intoxicating, maddening. He squeezed his eyes shut against the wave of arousal that threatened to drown him.
"So now, you're going to take my cock up your ass. It's going to be much bigger than that little thing Lena used the other night." She declared, her voice dropping into something dark and possessive. "You will beg for it. You will thank me for the honor of being used like this."
Derek's breath hitched sharply, his chest expanding against the wall as if he'd been struck. The cage around his cock dug into his flesh, making his trapped erection throb with every rapid heartbeat. He had never bottomed in his life—not once in their thirteen years of marriage had he allowed this level of surrender. But now, his wife wanted to take him to a place he couldn't even imagine.
Margot watched his reflection in the microwave's stainless steel door. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands trembled against the wall.
She placed a single, perfectly manicured finger on the small of his back and let it trail down slowly, following the curve of his spine until it rested just above the waistband of his pants.
"You understand this is a gift," Margot murmured, her breath warm against the shell of his ear. "Not every wife would be this generous with her husband."
The words hung between them like a verdict. Derek's breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. He heard a rustle behind him as she buckled on a harness. Heard the snap of rubber gloves, the sound of a condom snapping in place around the dildo.
The harness creaked slightly as she shifted her weight, and he could feel her body heat radiating against his back like a brand.
Margot’s bare toes—painted a deep, wine-colored shade that matched her nails—peeped out from beneath her pencil skirt as she stepped even closer, the polished heel of one shoe pressing into the arch of his foot for balance.
“You’re going to be such a good boy taking this for me,” she murmured, her lips grazing the shell of his ear as her fingers skimmed down his spine again, this time slipping beneath the waistband of his pants, tugging at the cage. “I want you to feel every inch of it inside your tight little asshole.
I want you to know what it feels like to be properly used.”
Derek’s entire body trembled like a leaf in a storm. His vision blurred with unshed tears. The cage holding his cock trapped inside pulsed with stinging urgency, the metal edges digging into his skin like tiny blades. Every nerve ending in his body felt raw, exposed—each breath a gasp, each heartbeat a thunderclap.
The first touch of the silicone-headed dildo against his crack made him whimper. It was cold. Too cold. The tip pressed against his entrance, slick with lube, and he flinched instinctively.
Margot’s hand slid around his hip, her fingertips curving possessively around the cage around his cock, giving it a gentle, mocking squeeze through the thin metal.
“Relax,” she commanded softly, almost fondly. “It’s nothing you don’t deserve.”
Derek’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. He didn’t deserve this. Not this humiliation, not this surrender. Not the way she used him, not the way she let another man sink into her body while Derek was reduced to nothing more than a function—her cleaner, her kneeling servant, the man who didn’t even deserve a voice in the pleasures she took without him.
And yet, here he was, shaking, kneeling before her, his own husband’s shame and hunger coiled so tight inside him he thought he might break.
The dildo pushed inward.
It was nothing like the cocks he’d seen in porn—thick, veined, unrelenting. The silicone pressed past his tight ring of muscle with a burn that stole his breath and sent a scream tearing up his throat, only to die unheard against the wall. His fingers clawed at the plaster, nails scraping against the surface as he fought not to collapse forward. Margot’s other hand settled on his hip, steadying him, her grip firm but not cruel.
“Breathe,” she murmured.
“It’s going to take every inch. You know what happens if you tense up.”
Derek tried to obey. He exhaled in sharp, controlled bursts through his nose, fighting the instinct to fight against the invasion. The silicone advanced, stretching him, filling him in a way that made his vision whiten at the edges. Each ridge pressed against his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure-pain radiating through his core—fuck—he couldn’t believe this was real.
Margot rocked the dildo gently, not just in, but side to side, wiggling it deeper. Derek’s thighs trembled, his knees threatening to buckle.
The silicone stretched him obscenely, every inch of the veined toy pressing against places inside him that had never been touched—not like this, not like this. He bit down on his lower lip until he tasted blood, tears streaking down his face. His breath came in ragged, animal gasps against the wall, his body betraying him with flickers of unwanted pleasure.
Margot watched his reflection, her expression unreadable—not cruel, not cruel at all, but something between fascination and hunger. Satisfaction. Her fingers tightened on his hip, her nails biting into the fabric of his pants just enough to anchor him.
"Almost there," she murmured, her voice low and steady. The silicone pushed deeper, stretching him in a way that made his entire body clench. Derek whimpered, his chest heaving against the wall, his fingers clawing at the plaster as if searching for an escape that didn’t exist.
Margot’s other hand drifted back, fingers tracing the curve of his ass through the fabric of his pants, feeling the way his body resisted and yielded in equal measure. "There," she said softly, her breath warm against his ear.
The dildo was fully seated inside him, the base pressing snugly against his ass, the entire length filling him in a way that made his vision swim. "You feel that? That's what you've been missing all these years."
Derek's breath came in helpless little gasps, his body trembling violently. The shame and humiliation were overwhelming, but so was the strange, twisted pleasure of being used like this—of being pushed beyond what he ever thought possible. His trapped cock pulsed inside its cage, the metal biting into his skin with every throb of need.
Margot stepped back, admiring her work with a satisfied smile.
The silicone pulsed inside Derek’s stretched entrance, the veined ridges catching the kitchen light as it shifted slightly with his shallow breaths. She reached down, tightening the straps around her hips and began to move slowly in and out. She felt the thrill of her power. How even a slight movement could cause pain and pleasure. He was totally at her mercy.
“Look at you,” she murmured, her voice thick with something dark and amused. “All stuffed up like the good little wife you’ve never been able to be.”
Derek’s reflection in the microwave door trembled. His pupils were blown wide, his skin flushed a deep, uneven red. Tears had carved wet tracks down his cheeks, mixing with the sweat on his brow. His hands remained flat against the wall, fingers splayed like he was bracing against an earthquake—but there was no escaping this.
The silicone inside him pulsed with each involuntary clench of his muscles, and he let out a broken little sound, half sob, half whimper.
Margot started moving faster, pushing the big cock in and out with short powerful jabs. Each jab sending a little vibration through her clit and causing Derek to cry out in pain.
His legs shook violently and a string of drool fell from his mouth and splatted onto the floor below him.
Margot’s fingers tightened around the dildo’s harness, her own breath quickening as she felt the way his insides fluttered around the intrusion, the way his body betrayed him by clenching around the silicone in involuntary spasms. It was obscene. It was perfect.
“You like that, don’t you?” she murmured, her voice dripping with dark amusement as she worked him over with slow, deliberate strokes. “You love being my little fucktoy.
Admit it.”
Derek’s lips trembled. The dildo stretched him obscenely with every thrust, the veined ridges scraping over his prostate with cruel precision, sending frissons of forbidden pleasure dancing through his core. The cage dug into his trapped cock with each desperate throb, the metal biting into his softening flesh like a brand. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with sweat and drool, but he did not deny her.
“Y-yes,” he stammered, voice breaking. “Yes, I love it.”
Margot let out a low, throaty laugh, the sound thick with satisfaction. “Good boy. Now take it you fucking ass slut." she growled, pulling almost all the way out and slamming the big dick home.
Derek screamed brokenly, his knees buckling as the full weight of the intrusion drove the breath from his lungs. The dildo pistoned in and out, stretching him farther with each snap of her hips, the thick silicone root pressing against him with a wet, obscene sound. Margot leaned forward, her lips brushing against his ear as she panted. "You're such a good little husband aren't you?
Taking my big cock up your tight little ass like such a good slut."
Margot's voice was a dark purr as she spoke into Derek's ear, her breath hot and ragged against his skin. She could feel his entire body trembling beneath her touch, could see the way his fingers curled into claws against the wall, the way his trapped erection pulsed painfully against his cage.
She reached around him, her fingers finding the cage through the fabric of his pants. She gave it a cruel little shake, making him whimper helplessly.
"Who's ass is this?" she demanded, her voice dropping into something dangerously sweet.
Derek's breath hitched, his chest heaving against the wall.
"It's... yours Margot," he stammered, his voice breaking. "Your ass."
Margot hummed in approval, her fingers tightening around the cage as she gave it another deliberate, mocking tug. The metal dug into his trapped flesh, making him gasp through the pain.
"Say it again," she commanded, her voice dropping to a dark whisper as she rocked the dildo deeper inside him with a slow, relentless roll of her hips. "Tell me who owns this ass."
Derek squeezed his eyes shut, his face burning with shame and arousal. "It's yours Margot," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.
"Your ass. Only yours."
Margot’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as she rolled her hips slower, letting the thick silicone drag against his prostate with each deep thrust. Derek let out a broken whimper, his body trembling violently against the wall.
Margot continued her assault as she felt her orgasm start to build.
Her pace quickened as her climax took control, her hips snapping forward with a rhythm that had Derek whimpering uncontrollably. His knees were knocking together as she used him like nothing more than a flesh-and-silicone fucktoy, and she could feel his body trembling with need.
She could see his reflection in the microwave door - his face was flushed, tears streaming down his cheeks, sweat dripping from his brow. His body betrayed him with every thrust - clenching around the silicone as if trying to milk it for pleasure despite the pain.
He started begging for her to stop, but she was too far gone. She was going to finish this. She was going to take her orgasm from his pain.
Her thighs clamped around the harness, the thick straps biting into her skin as she ground herself against him with short, sharp pulses. The dildo inside him pistoned in time with her movements—each snap of her hips drawing choked sobs from him, each thrust making his body jerk violently against the wall.
“You’re going to take your wife’s pleasure in your worthless little husband ass,” Margot hissed, her voice breaking on the last word as pleasure coiled tighter in her core. “And when I’m done, you’re going to thank me.”
Derek’s entire body convulsed. His trapped cock was a thick, pulsing weight in its cage, the metal biting into his flesh with every desperate heartbeat.
He could feel her thighs shaking around the harness, her breath coming in ragged gasps against the back of his neck. The dildo inside him pistoned in and out, stretching him obscenely with each deep thrust. Margot's nails dug into his hip through his pants, her grip possessive and unrelenting.
He screamed, begging for her to stop, but it just seemed to fuel her desire.
She took her time, dragging the orgasm out, letting him feel every single pulse of her pleasure as it ripped through her without mercy. When she finally finished, she pulled the dildo out slowly, savoring the wet, obscene noise of it slipping free from his stretched hole. She looked down at the mess she made on his pants, cum oozing out, and smiled in satisfaction.
Margot stepped back, adjusting her clothes with practiced ease before smoothing her hair. Her nipples were hard points beneath her blouse, and she could feel the dampness between her thighs while Derek collapsed quivering on the floor.
She stood with her hands on her hips for a moment, letting the silence settle, letting him feel the weight of what had just happened. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but firm, almost clinical.
But first things first.
Margot reached up and removed the cage key from around her neck. She held it up between two fingers, letting it catch the kitchen light so he could see the way it gleamed. Derek’s eyes followed the motion like a drowning man watching a lifeline, his breath hitching in his chest.
The key was small, silver, unassuming—but it was the only thing that could unlock the cage trapping his cock, the only thing that could grant him relief from the constant, agonizing pressure.
Margot let the key dangle for a moment longer, the faint chime of metal against metal echoing in the quiet kitchen. The silence stretched, thick with anticipation. Derek’s fingers twitched against the floorboards, his body trembling from the exertion of holding the position, from the humiliation, from the sheer *need* coiling inside him.
“Beg,” Margot said finally, her voice cool and measured. “Beg me to unlock it.”
Derek’s throat worked.
His lips parted, but no sound came out at first. The cage around his cock pulsed in time with his heartbeat, the cold metal biting into his flesh like a second skin. He could feel the lube oozing out of his stretched asshole, sliding down his thighs in slow, shameful rivulets. The sight of it made his stomach clench.
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. The key in Margot’s hand glinted under the kitchen light, the only thing standing between him and release—between him and sanity. His mind raced, not with defiance, but with the sheer, desperate *need* to be freed from this torment.
"Please Margot" he breathed, his voice raw and shaking. "Please... unlock it... I'll do anything. I'll be good. I'll-"
Margot cut him off with a laugh, soft but merciless.
"Oh Derek" she sighed, shaking her head. "Do you really think this is about *mercy*?”
The key hovered just out of reach, a cruel tease.
"You think I'm going to unlock this cage out of kindness?" she continued, her voice dropping into something darker, something almost pitying. "No, no. This is just a reward for your obedience. A way to cement your servitude." Margo said bending down and sliding the key into the lock. She turned it with a click and removed the lock, but the cage stayed in place almost fused to his swollen skin.
She pulled it off and it left his cock flaccid, red, and swollen in relief.
Margot knelt down in front of him, examining his cock with clinical detachment. She ran a finger along the underside, feeling the pulse of blood as it returned. The skin was sensitive, almost raw from confinement.
"Look at you," she murmured, almost to herself. "Such a pathetic little thing when you're not locked up."
She curled her fingers around it gently, stroking him with the lightest touch. Derek groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily at the unexpected sensation. The relief was overwhelming - the pressure, the ache, the constant denial - all melting away under her careful ministrations.
Derek's hips lifted slightly against his will, seeking more of her touch despite knowing what came next.
Margot watched his face with detached fascination as his cock thickened and lengthened in her grip. The transformation was striking - from pathetic and confined to something alive and needy in her palm. She tightened her hold slightly, watching as Derek's breath hitched and his eyes fluttered shut.
She gave a slow stroke upward, letting her thumb brush over the sensitive underside before releasing him completely. His cock bobbed, heavy and flushed, when she withdrew her hand.
Margot stood up, wiping her fingers on her skirt with deliberate casualness. "There now," she said, her tone almost clinical. "You may jerk your little dicklet and spurt your load on the floor as long as you agree to lick it up." Margot said in a calm, rational voice that made the request even more degrading.
Derek’s face burned crimson, his chest heaving as he stared at the floor between them. The absence of the cage left his cock swollen and throbbing, a pathetic little thing that twitched with every shallow breath. The lube from his ass leaked down his thighs in shameful trails, cool and slick against his skin.
He swallowed hard, his throat tight. "Yes, Margot," he whispered, the words barely audible as he started jerking his cock looking up at her pathetically.
"You know how ridiculous you look to me, don't you?"
Margot asked, her voice light and conversational as she stepped back from Derek's kneeling position. She crossed her arms over her chest, watching him with detached interest as his fist worked up and down his cock at a desperate pace.
Derek nodded quickly, his breath coming in sharp little gasps that made his shoulders shudder. The shame burned in his throat and cheeks, but the relief of finally touching himself was intoxicating. His free hand braced against the floor, fingers splaying as he chased the pressure building at the base of his spine.
Margot tilted her head slightly, studying him with the detached fascination of someone observing an interesting scientific specimen.
"Go on then," she said, gesturing vaguely toward the floor with one hand. "Don't stop until you've painted the hardwood. And then I want you to lap it all up like a dog."
Derek's hips twitched involuntarily at the permission, his fist working faster now that he had explicit instructions. The shame and degradation were almost too much to bear, yet the pressure in his balls was undeniable. He could feel the familiar coil of orgasm building at the base of his spine, that familiar warmth radiating outward.
Margot stepped back further, giving him space to perform his degrading task. She watched with clinical precision as his hips began to stutter, his breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts.
The sight of him—her once-proud husband, now reduced to a trembling, obedient mess—elicited something complicated within her. Not just satisfaction, not just power, but a strange, almost maternal tenderness mixed with the dominance she relished.
Derek groaned, his tiny cock spurting cum all over the floor in thick ropes.
His body arched as he came, eyes clenched shut, a broken sound escaping his throat. He stayed there for a long moment panting, his chest heaving, the wet spot spreading beneath him.
Margot watched it all with detached fascination, her arms still crossed over her breasts, her expression unreadable. The only sign of her arousal was the faint flush creeping up her neck and the way her fingers drummed lightly against her upper arm, a telltale sign she was turned on by his submission.
When Derek finally opened his eyes, he found her standing over him with a small towel in hand. “Clean it up,” she said, her voice calm and detached. “Every last drop.
I don’t want to see a single streak, not even on the baseboard,” Margot instructed, her voice calm, as if asking him to take out the recycling. She tossed the towel onto the floor in front of him and stepped back, allowing him the space to perform his task without the pressure of her gaze directly on him.
Derek bent over and stuck out his tongue. He started at the base of one of the slimy trails and slid it up, scooping the cooling jizz up into his mouth. It was gritty with dirt from the floor and tasted disgusting.
The position was humiliating—kneeling on the floor with his ass still glistening from the dildo, his own spent orgasm cooling on the floor beneath him. He lapped away leaving smears of saliva behind. Margot watched, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood as she circled him again, her bare legs peeking out beneath her skirt.
"Better," she said, her voice tinged with approval. "But I want it *shiny*." She tapped the toe of her shoe against the floor near the edge of the wet spot. "All the way to the baseboard."