The Man..
The man is 6'3" and probably around 300 pounds. He's in his early 40s, with short brown hair flecked with grey at the temples. A short trimmed beard adorns his handsome rugged face. His green eyes are deep set under a strong brow. His jaw is defined and still soft. He is wearing a pair of brown slacks and a crisp white shirt with a leather jacket. Muscular with a big belly but he carries it well.
We start talking at the bar while Linette and Renny are having drinks at a corner table.
"Hi, I'm Jason." I say with a smile.
"Joel, it's a pleasure to meet you." He says.
He says, "So, are you here with anyone?"
I turn and gesture toward the girls. "That's my wife and her girlfriend."
He glances over. "Which one is your wife?"
"The pretty one in the blue and white dress with the big butt," I say with a smile.
"That's a bummer," Joel sighs. "The cute ones are always taken."
"Well, I am taken, but I'm allowed a certain amount of freedom." I take a deep, slow breath. "Might as well get this out of the way--I have a different dynamic with my wife than most people do."
Joel's green eyes widen. "How so?" he asks.
"We're in a power exchange. I'm her submissive, and she's my Mistress."
"Do you see that key hanging at the swell of her breasts?" I nod toward Linette. His eyes sparkle, and a grin starts to form.
"Let me guess--a chastity cage?"
"You're clever and handsome," I say with a smile.
"Are you allowed out of it?" he asks.
"Only when she permits it. But that's the only part of me that's locked." I wink.
I place my hand on his leg. My stomach flutters with butterflies, and I feel myself swell inside the rigid titanium fortress. We lean toward each other at almost the same moment.
"I think you're really handsome and very sexy," I say. "May I kiss you?"
Joel takes a deep breath and closes his pretty green eyes. I lean in, and our lips meet--soft and inviting. It's a quick kiss, but charged with a surge of sexual energy that rushes through my body.
We pull apart, and I glance over to see Renny tapping Linette's arm excitedly. As Linette turns to look, I kiss Joel again--his lips soft and full. He puts a strong hand on my shoulder and draws me closer. As the kiss ends, we both pull back, breathing deeply and smiling.
"You have such beautiful eyes," he says.
"Thanks. Yours are a very pretty green."
He pulls his wallet from his jacket pocket and signals the bartender. "Come home with me tonight."
He says it like both a command and a question.
My heart skips a beat. I quietly reply, "Yes, sir."
I turn my head and make eye contact with Linette. She smiles and gives me a small, knowing nod--a wave of permission.
As I rise and begin to follow Joel's broad form out of the bar, I glance back one last time. Linette is still smiling, now focused on Renny. Just before I step away, she meets my gaze for a final moment, then leans in to kiss her.
We take an Uber to his apartment.
The ride is quiet, but charged. We say little--words feel unnecessary with the way Joel's mouth claims mine. His kiss is deep, confident, tasting of bourbon and something unmistakably him. His hand finds my thigh again, firm and deliberate, sliding upward with a slow hunger that makes me shiver.
By the time he reaches the top of my leg, I'm aching in my cage--so hard it feels like I might burst. My cock throbs, trapped and denied, the pressure exquisite. He doesn't touch it. He doesn't have to. His hand lingers just close enough to make me lose myself in the ache.
I break from the kiss for a breath, lips wet, eyes searching his. I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off with a low, commanding murmur.
"Be patient. We're almost home."
The way he says it--firm, certain, in control--makes my heart hammer against my ribs. I nod, obedient, desperate, and melt into him as he kisses me again. This time, he takes his time. His tongue slides past my lips, slow and possessive. I moan softly into his mouth, helpless under the weight of his dominance.
He tastes me like he's already claimed me. Our tongues dance, hungry and unrelenting, the heat between us thick enough to suffocate.
By the time the Uber pulls to a stop, I'm trembling.
As we step into the elevator, Joel wastes no time. He turns and presses me firmly against the wall, his body hot and solid against mine. With one hand, he reaches for the button to the third floor, and as he presses it, he leans in and captures my mouth with his again--deep, demanding, possessive.
His kiss is everything: rough lips, slow tongue, breath stolen from my lungs. I melt into him, completely taken.
The elevator jolts slightly as it begins to rise. I'm dizzy with want, with the heat of his body, with the way he makes me feel small and hungry and owned.
Then--the soft chime of the elevator bell.
The doors slide open to reveal a young couple waiting. They freeze for a moment, caught in the sudden intimacy of our moment. Joel pulls back just enough to breathe, his lips still grazing mine. Then, without a word, he takes my hand in his and steps forward.
"Excuse us," he murmurs with a calm, confident authority, guiding me out past the stunned woman. His hand never leaves mine as we move down the hallway, my face flushed and my heart racing.
As we step into his apartment, the door clicks shut behind us. The space is low-lit and inviting--plush furniture, warm tones, and a quiet hum of anticipation in the air. My cage aches. The rigid titanium presses against every sensitive inch of me, unforgiving. I feel the sharp, perfect pressure of the bar threaded through my piercing--an inescapable reminder of my submission. Every movement sends a pulse of need straight through me.
It's maddening. Exquisite. Torture laced with erotic energy.
I ache to be touched. To feel Joel's mouth on me. To be devoured, explored, claimed.
But deeper than that, under the sharp edge of longing, is the truth: I want the frustration. I need the denial. Because what I crave more than pleasure is her control. My Mistress's command. The cage isn't just about restriction--it's devotion, discipline, surrender.
Joel's hand remains firm in mine as he leads me through the kitchen and into the living room. My mind is a whirlwind--need, restraint, longing, loyalty--all crashing together inside me. My body burns with desire, but my heart beats in submission. I am hers, even here, even now.
And that only makes this moment feel even hotter. Even more forbidden.
Joel doesn't speak at first. He walks behind me, hands light on my shoulders as he guides me further into the living room. I can feel his breath near my neck, the heat of him, the way he's holding himself back.
He circles to face me, eyes sharp and unreadable. Then he speaks--quiet, deliberate.
"She keeps you locked like this all the time?"
I nod, my breath catching.
He smiles, not unkindly. "That's intense."
He steps closer, his hand brushing along the waistband of my pants, pausing just above the locked titanium. He doesn't touch the cage. He doesn't need to. His presence alone is electric.
"You want me to touch you there," he says, voice low, "but you're not mine to unlock."
I nod again, harder this time, lips parted, body burning.
He leans in, his mouth at my ear. "But that doesn't mean I can't make you feel everything."
A shiver runs down my spine.
Joel's hands are firm now, one on my chest, the other on my hip. He kisses me again--deep and slow--before pulling back to study my face.
"I like that you're hers," he says. "That you come to me already owned--already trained. But tell me something..."
