Note: this story was commissioned by my wife and written for her. It’s mostly fantasy and various things that have come up during dirty talk with some true events mixed in.
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It had been nearly a week of me locked in chastity by this point, six long days where Mel had only let me out briefly at night before sleep. Our arrangement was comfortable, but I was restless tonight. We were lounging on the couch, wine glasses in hand, scrolling through our phones.
Mel suddenly smirked and turned her screen toward me. It was a dating app. Not hers, but a blank profile she had downloaded “just to see what was out there.” My cage tightened immediately.
“What if,” she said slowly, her finger swirling around the rim of her glass, “I matched with someone… just to tease you?”
I shifted uncomfortably in the cage, my cock already pressing against the steel. “You wouldn’t,” I muttered, though we both knew I’d spent years dirty talking with her about the very topic.
“Oh, honey,” she purred, leaning over to kiss my cheek, “I wouldn’t have to actually meet anyone. But the thought of men lining up for me… and you locked tight, watching me choose… that’s delicious, isn’t it?”
Her words had the same effect as the Mexico bar tease, the same electricity as when Stacy wore my key. Pure torture wrapped in excitement.
I swallowed hard. “Yes, Mel.”
She laughed softly, scrolling through a few profiles as if considering them seriously. “He’s cute. Maybe I’ll send him a photo. Or better yet… one of us. Don’t worry, I’d let him know you’re here.”
My chest pounded. My cock twitched uselessly in its cage. She set her phone down and straddled me, her dress falling open just enough for me to get a peek. “Don’t worry,” she whispered in my ear, “I’d never let anyone else have me. But you, my locked-up boy, don’t get to know where fantasy ends and reality begins.”
Her hand pressed down against my cage as she kissed me passionately. The wine, the tease, the heavy silence in the room with tension so think you could feel it.
“Now,” she said firmly, pulling away, “go to bed. Tonight you’ll stay locked. And maybe tomorrow I’ll tell you whether I really messaged him, or whether I just wanted to see you squirm.”
I obeyed, my cock aching at this point while my mind raced with questions that I knew would gnaw at me all night.
We had been circling this fantasy with flirty games, chastity teases, and dirty talk for years now. But that night, as I shifted restlessly in my cage, Mel suddenly sat up straighter. Her tone changed.
“Red,” she said.
Our safeword.
I froze.
Mel never used it unless she truly wanted to stop the play and strip everything down to the truth. My stomach tightened, but I nodded, giving her my full attention.
“I need to know something,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Do you truly want me to fuck another man? Or is this just fantasy? Just dirty talk?”
I swallowed, unsure how to answer. Her eyes were sharp, vulnerable, searching for something real.
She pressed on. “Because the truth is… I’ve never really wanted that on my own. I’ve never looked at another man and thought about it. I’m yours. Completely yours.” She reached out, squeezing my hand for emphasis. “But the more we play, the more we tease, the more we talk about it…” She bit her lip, hesitation giving way to a smirk. “The more the idea turns me on and I could see myself going through with it. And that scares me a little.”
Her confession landed heavy in my chest. My instinct was to reassure her, but instead I breathed deep, letting my own truth spill out. “Mel… what I’ve learned is this: I want you to tease me however you see fit. However far you want to go. If that means just playing in fantasy, that’s enough. If you ever did want to cross the line… then I’d be okay with it. Because my ultimate desire is for you to be fulfilled. Always.”
Her expression softened. The tension in her shoulders eased as she leaned closer, her lips brushing mine before she whispered, “If you really want to see me with another man, then you’re going to have to beg me for it.”
For the next three nights, it became a new kind of game. I found myself asking her over and over, pleading like a man possessed. “Please, can I watch you fuck another man while I’m locked up? Please, Mel. I need it.”
And she loved every second of it.
Her eyes sparkled every time I asked, every time I sank deeper into the role she had scripted for me. She would push back with a coy smile. “Well, I don’t know. What if I don’t like him? What if he doesn’t excite me? I don’t even know if I want to.”
The uncertainty was both torture and bliss. The teasing became its own form of denial, a new kind of lock that only she could control. And the longer she kept me begging, the more tightly wound I became, living at the edge of fantasy and reality, unsure which world she might choose to step into next.
The days of begging had only sharpened the tension between us. Every time I pleaded for her to let me watch her with another man, Mel grew more radiant, more confident in the control she wielded. Her teases turned sharper, her smiles more devilish, until one evening she decided to take it further.
“Come here,” she commanded softly, patting the bed. I obeyed instantly, my body aching in its cage, my mind fogged from days of denial.
She reached into the nightstand, producing the key. The small click of the lock releasing sent a shiver down my spine. She slid the cage from me with slow precision, and for the first time in weeks, I was fully exposed with my cock in her hand.
“Lay back,” she whispered, straddling between my legs. “If you want this… you’re going to beg.”
Her hand wrapped around me, filled with lube, moving unbearably slowly. Up the shaft, lingering at the tip, then sliding back down with a twist. The torture wasn’t in her grip, it was in her words.
“Say it again,” she demanded, eyes locked on mine.
“Please, Mel,” I gasped, my hips twitching upward against her deliberate pace. “Please let me watch you fuck another man while I’m locked up.”
She smiled, stroking me a little faster before slowing again to a crawl. “And why should I? What if I don’t like him? What if it isn’t worth my time?”
“Because… it’s what I want,” I stammered, breath ragged. “Because the thought of it drives me crazy. Because I want you fulfilled.”
Her grip tightened for just a moment before easing again. “That’s better. But it’s still not enough.” She leaned down, kissing me deeply, her tongue sliding against mine as her hand continued its maddening rhythm.
I begged again, louder, with more desperation. She forced me to repeat it until I was nearly trembling. Every plea and her strokes deliberately driving me closer to the edge, then slowing to drag me back into agony.
And then, just when I thought I might finally lose control, she stopped.
Her hand left me throbbing, my body straining for release. She held the cage in her hand, pressing it against my stomach. Her voice was velvet and steel all at once.
“You aren’t free to orgasm,” she said firmly, “until you watch me fuck another cock. That’s the price. Until then, every bit of you belongs in this. And remember, this is what you asked for.”
Before I could protest, she slid the cold steel ring back over my shaft and balls. The cage closed and the lock clicking shut like a sentence being passed.
Mel kissed me one last time, her lips lingering as she whispered, “Now you’ll really learn how to beg.”
The next morning was still gray when I packed up my golf bag and slung it over my shoulder. I kissed Mel goodbye at the door rushing to my Uber.
“Keep your phone close,” she whispered. “I’ll send you something to keep you on your toes.”
The thought of her teasing me through the morning made me grin as I headed out. Golf with the guys, a few drinks, then Mel’s inevitable torment waiting for me later. It was routine by now, and I loved it.
By the back nine, the drinks had loosened me up, and I was feeling light and carefree. That was when my phone buzzed.
It was from Mel. Our private app.
Just one message, no photo.
Did you want to cum tonight?
I blinked at the screen, confused. There was only one condition under which I was allowed to orgasm, and it certainly hadn’t been fulfilled yet. Did this mean what I thought it meant?
I typed back quickly, thumbs fumbling. “What do you mean? Of course I do…?”
My heart started to pound, my head spinning. I stepped up to the next putt, but my hands were trembling. I missed badly. On the next tee box, I sliced the ball deep into the rough. My focus was gone.
The phone buzzed again.
“You know exactly what it means. Did you want to cum tonight or not? I kinda need an answer right now. ”
I could hardly breathe. My mind was racing in circles. Did she really…? Was this happening? I typed back the only thing I could manage: “Yes, I do, Mel.”
For a moment, I considered leaving the round entirely, calling an Uber, racing home just to fall into her arms and demand an explanation.
But then the phone buzzed again.
This time, a photo. My nightstand. A torn-open condom wrapper. Her necklace with my chastity key sitting beside it.
Another text followed instantly: “No texts back. I don’t want to be disturbed. Just follow along for the updates.”
My blood ran cold and hot at the same time.
A few seconds later, another photo arrived. Blurry. Mel in the bedroom mirror, our bed behind her. She was fully naked.
And then another picture. This one unmistakable. A close-up between her legs. Her pussy, spread and glistening, and the thick shaft of a man’s cock pushing inside her.
The world spun. How was this actually happening? I gripped my phone so tightly my knuckles went white. My thoughts were chaos. Who was this that was fucking her before noon on a Thursday? When had she planned this? How had she orchestrated it without me knowing?
And then her final text appeared.
“Thank you for letting me do this, honey. It’s so naughty. The first dick I’ve felt in fifteen years that’s not yours. I can’t wait to release you and tell you every single detail as I make you cum.”
The golf course around me seemed to vanish.
My heart pounded. My cage felt tighter than ever. My wife, my Mel, was at home, with another man. And she was thanking me. And, in that exact moment, I realised that I loved every single second of it.
The begging game was over and I couldn’t wait to hear all of the details about her and this mystery man.
I barely remembered the Uber ride home. My clubs were still rattling in the trunk when I nearly sprinted through the front door, calling out for Mel, my heart slamming against my chest.
“Mel!” I shouted, rushing down the hallway.
The bedroom door was shut. I flung it open.
She was there, sprawled across the bed, hair tousled, her body still glowing as if she had been waiting for me. I scanned the room wildly, but there was no man. No trace of anyone else.
My eyes locked on the nightstand. The condom wrapper was still there, untouched. Beside it lay a thick, realistic dildo I’d never seen before.
Mel watched my face, her smile slow, knowing.
“Was it convincing enough for you?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came.
“See,” she said, sitting up, “before I really went off and fucked someone else… I needed to make sure you weren’t all talk.”
I sank down on the edge of the bed, emotions swirling, relief, arousal, confusion, and even disappointment.
Mel reached for her necklace, unclasping it. She slid the key into the lock and slowly released me.
“Now,” she whispered, stroking my cock, “I want to hear how you felt, thinking I was over here fucking someone else. And if you’re honest with me… I’ll let you cum.”
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