Confession of a Caged Submissive During His Wife’s Dinner Party

My name is Sebastián, and I’m thirty-six years old. I’m slim, with short brown hair and blue eyes that, according to my wife, always give away what I’m feeling. I’m telling you this because it’s necessary to understand what comes next: I’ve never known how to lie with my face, and that night I had to keep it still for hours.

Mariana, my wife, is thirty-three. Her brown curls fall over her shoulders, and she paints her lips a red that seems chosen specifically to make me uncomfortable. When she wants something, she smiles crookedly and narrows her green eyes, and I already know I’m going to obey before she asks.

We live in a spacious house on the outskirts, with tall windows and wooden floors that gleamed that night as though they had been polished for a ceremony. In a way, they had.

Under my buttoned shirt and dress trousers I was wearing, as I had been for exactly three weeks, a steel chastity cage. The metal dug into my skin with every step, a dull, constant pressure that came and went with every heartbeat. Whenever I bent down to pick up a glass, the cage bit a little harder, and the steel ring squeezing the base of my balls reminded me that my cock was no longer mine.

Why does this turn me on even when it hurts? I wondered as I served champagne to the guests.

Mariana’s dress was a deep emerald green and clung to her body as though it had been sewn onto her. Narrow waist, wide hips, high breasts pressed against the neckline. And between her breasts, hanging from a little silver chain, was the key to my cage. Every time she breathed, the key rose and fell with her. Every time I saw it, my stomach knotted.

That night she had invited her three closest friends. Renata, tall and long-legged, wore a red dress and a smile that seemed kept for cutting someone. Clarita, petite and always laughing, had come in a short skirt and a white silk blouse. Daniela, the most voluptuous of the three, wore a black dress that accentuated her hips and a sweet perfume that lingered in every room she passed through.

To make the evening seem more elegant, Mariana had hired staff. Two young waiters in immaculate black uniforms: one tall and blond, with a permanent smile that prickled the back of my neck; the other shorter and dark-haired, with attentive eyes that seemed to take in everything. And a stern-looking cook in a white coat with her hair tied back, directing the kitchen island as though it were an operating room.

Dinner was long. Fish stew, tenderloin with truffle sauce, wines that followed one another without my daring to drink too much. I busied myself refilling glasses and avoiding everyone’s eyes.

“Sit down for a while, darling,” Mariana said at one point, patting the dark-blue modular sofa. “You’ve earned it.”

I sat on the edge, as upright as I could, the cage tightening every time I shifted position.

***

After dessert, the four women settled onto the sofa with their glasses. As always, the conversation drifted toward intimate matters. Mariana tapped her ring against her glass and dropped the sentence I had been dreading all night.

“Girls, I’m serious: I’m completely spoiled. Sebastián is the most obedient husband you could imagine. I tell him to do anything, whatever it is, and he obeys instantly. No backtalk.”

The words fell over me like hot wax. She’s offering me up again. I don’t know what’s coming, but I know how she thinks.

Renata arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“Anything? That’s a bold claim.”

“Prove it,” Clarita burst out, her eyes shining. “Make him do something outrageous.”

Daniela leaned forward, letting her dark waves fall over one shoulder.

“Something deliciously humiliating. Have him strip for us. Here. Now.”

“Yes!” Clarita laughed, patting the sofa. “I need to see whether he really is as obedient as you say.”

“Come on, Mariana, put him to the test,” Renata insisted.

My wife’s low laugh filled the living room. She toyed with the key between her fingers, letting the chain strike against her skin. She sought me out with her eyes from the other end of the sofa, where I had remained standing beside the fireplace as though I could melt into the wall.

“What do you think, darling? Shall I ask you to strip for my friends?”

My throat closed.

“Mariana, please. Not with everyone here. The waiters are in the kitchen.”

Renata let out a short laugh.

“Are you protesting already, Sebastián? What difference does it make who’s here?”

“Come on,” Clarita sang. “Your wife says you’ll do anything. Prove it.”

Mariana’s voice became firm, velvet over steel.

“Sebastián. Come here.”

I crossed the living room slowly, my pulse pounding in my ears. The waiters had gone still behind the bar. The cook, her arms crossed over her white coat, was watching openly. The clinking of dishes had stopped completely.

“My friends want proof of your obedience,” Mariana said, looking toward the three of them as though I weren’t there. “So you’re going to strip. Shirt, trousers, underwear. Fold every item carefully and leave it on the coffee table.”

I felt my face burning.

“Mariana, please. Not in front of them. It’s too much.”

And as I said it, I could feel it: the cage tightening around me, the ring digging into the base, my cock trying to swell inside the steel and striking against every bar. The tip flattened against the front of the cage, and a drop of pre-cum worked its way between the metal, sliding beneath my balls.

Why does her order make me hurt like this? I’m terrified, and yet part of me wants to obey.

Mariana narrowed her eyes.

“Strip right now or I’ll add another month to your confinement. Maybe two. Imagine four or five more weeks like this, your cock squeezed tight, unable to come. You decide.”

The living room fell silent except for the crackling fireplace. I swallowed and, with trembling hands, brought my fingers to the first button.

One by one, the buttons came undone. I took off my shirt, folded it with the precision reserved for the one thing I could still control, and left it on the glass table. The buckle of my belt sounded far too loud. I lowered my trousers, folded them, and stacked them on top of the shirt.

“You can keep your socks on,” Mariana said with that half-smile. “You know how ridiculously adorable you look like that.”

I took a deep breath, though it did no good, and pulled down my underwear. The steel was exposed, my cock strangled inside it and my balls hanging purple beneath the ring. The black dress socks I was still wearing drew a high-pitched giggle from Clarita and a slow whistle from Daniela that pinned me to the floor.

***

Standing in the center of my own living room, completely naked except for those socks, I felt the cold air against every inch of skin. My nipples had hardened. The cage, already taut, filled completely and began pressing every bar against the swollen flesh. Another drop of pre-cum gathered at the tip of the cage and hung there, trembling with my breathing.

Clarita was the first to notice and pointed at me with her glass.

“Look at the cage. It’s completely full. There’s a drop hanging from the tip. He’s dripping like a bitch in heat.”

Renata leaned a little closer, without the slightest shame. She extended a finger, collected the drop from the tip of the steel, and brought it to her mouth with all the calm in the world.

“He begged not to strip, and yet he’s delighted. And he tastes like a man who hasn’t come in weeks.”

“His body is shouting what his mouth doesn’t dare say,” Daniela finished, laughing. She came closer, grabbed my balls beneath the ring, and squeezed them just enough to make my knees buckle. “Look at them. Hard as rocks. This poor bastard’s balls are about to burst.”

Mariana stood up and began circling me slowly, her heels setting the rhythm against the wood. Her perfume wrapped around me like another arm. She stopped behind me, pressed herself against my back, and ran a fingernail along my ass crack, very slowly, until my entire body prickled.

“Exactly. All those protests, and one little order has him desperate inside his tiny prison. Pathetic. And absolutely perfect. Look at him: he can’t even get fully hard. He’s dying to fuck and can’t even get it up. It’s the funniest thing this living room has ever seen.”

For the next twenty minutes I remained standing there while the evening continued as though I were just another piece of furniture.

The waiters cleared the plates with an efficiency that hurt me. They refilled the glasses and allowed their eyes to linger on me without the slightest discomfort. The blond waiter’s smile grew wider every time he passed me; at one point he stopped less than a foot away, grabbed the bulge in his trousers through the fabric, and winked at me. The cook watched everything from the island, her expression much softer than it had been while serving dinner.

Mariana began giving me tasks. Bring napkins. Keep still. Turn around so they can get a good look at your ass. Whenever I turned, I felt Renata’s nails tracing a slow circle over my hip, descending until she squeezed one cheek with her whole hand. Daniela gave my caged balls a playful tap that made me gasp with a sharp pain, then took the opportunity to slip a finger between my buttocks, barely brushing my asshole before withdrawing with a laugh.

“It’s even tighter back there than his cage,” she announced to the others. “We’ll have to do something about that one of these nights.”

The four women talked about trips, a new restaurant, the latest couple to split up, dropping a humiliating comment now and then: “His nipples are still hard,” “That cage looks even tighter than before,” “Look at his little drop trembling.” I listened the way a dog listens to human conversation: registering the tones, waiting for a direct command.

***

At some point the conversation shifted gears. Clarita sighed, looking at the ceiling.

“Mariana, you’re so lucky. Hot wife, free to do whatever you want while he stays locked up and obedient.”

“It must be incredibly liberating,” Renata murmured. “No jealousy, just pleasure. And all the cocks you want to put in him.”

“So who’s next on your list?” Daniela asked, licking her lip. “Because from where I’m sitting, I have a couple of candidates.”

Mariana turned her head toward the blond waiter, who was stacking glasses near us. His shoulders strained against his uniform, and something else strained his trousers too.

“Actually, I’ve got my eye on someone right now,” she said, beckoning him with one finger. “You. Blondie. Come here.”

He approached without losing his smile.

“Yes, ma’am?”

Mariana ran a finger over his chest as far as the first button. She lowered her hand, grabbed his bulge without asking, and squeezed slowly, weighing what was inside.

“Well endowed. Perfect. How about some real entertainment after dinner?” She glanced over her shoulder at the dark-haired waiter and the cook, whose white coat was already half unbuttoned. “All three of you. And anything else you want to try.”

The blond put a hand to his zipper and lowered it right there. His cock sprang out of his trousers, thick and already half-hard, its large glans flushed red. Mariana looked at it with pure hunger, then glanced at me to make sure I was looking too.

“Do you see this, darling? Now that’s a cock. You won’t see or touch yours until I say so.”

The living room changed in a second. Zippers lowering, fabric pulled tight, a couple of laughs turning into moans before they even reached the floor. Clarita tore her blouse over her head, leaving her small breasts bare, her nipples already stiff as points. Renata pulled her breasts out through the neckline without lowering her dress, squeezing them with both hands.

The blond pushed Mariana backward against the sofa. He hiked her dress up to her waist, yanked her underwear aside hard enough to tear the lace, and opened her legs with both hands. First he ran his tongue over her, a long, filthy lick from pussy to clitoris, and when she arched her back, he drove two fingers in to the knuckle and pulled them out gleaming.

“She’s soaked, ma’am,” he said, laughing against her thigh. “All wet from watching her husband in his cage.”

“Put it in me already,” Mariana moaned, grabbing his hair. “Enough games. Fuck me.”

He straightened, gripped his cock at the base, and buried it in her with a single thrust that tore a cry from her. Mariana dug her nails into his back, arched her waist, and demanded more.

“Fuck me harder,” she moaned, looking at me from beneath him. “Take me all the way. Give my husband a good show. Let him see how a real man fucks his wife.”

Her breasts had escaped from the torn dress. The blond manhandled them without restraint, gulping at her nipples hungrily while pounding her at a rhythm that made the sofa’s leather creak and his balls slap against her ass. I watched his cock slide in and out of my wife’s glossy pussy, the pink flesh clinging to the shaft each time he withdrew. The smell of sex began filling the room: wet pussy, sweat, semen waiting to spill.

Mariana came first, her legs locked around the blond’s waist, a hoarse cry burning my ears. He didn’t stop. He turned her over, put her on all fours on the sofa, seized her curls like reins, and drove into her from behind again. The sharp smacks of skin against skin marked the room’s pulse.

Clarita climbed astride the dark-haired waiter on the rug. She had yanked his trousers down, and the dark-haired man’s cock, shorter but very thick, waited hard against his stomach. Clarita grabbed it, guided herself onto it, and dropped hard until she buried it completely. She rode him with her eyes closed, gripping the backrest and bouncing over him, her small breasts jolting against his face. The dark-haired man licked her nipples one by one, nibbled them, and squeezed her ass with both hands to set the pace, until he turned her over and put her on all fours. Little Clarita screamed with her face buried in the rug while the dark-haired man held her hips and entered her from behind, one hard stroke after another, spitting into her ass crack and using the saliva to push a thumb into her asshole at the same time. Clarita shrieked and came almost instantly, soaking his thighs.

Renata and Daniela tangled with the cook. She removed her white coat, revealing strong arms, large breasts with dark nipples, and a black harness buckled around her waist, fitted with a thick, veined dildo ready for use. Where did that come from? I managed to wonder before the question seemed ridiculous. The cook spat into her hand, lubricated the harness with her own saliva, bent Renata over the arm of the sofa, tore off her thong, and sank into her from behind, one hand on the back of her neck and the other pulling her hair. Renata let out a guttural moan, thrust her ass against the harness, and begged for more.

“Deeper, deeper, fuck,” she panted. “Break me.”

Daniela knelt in front of Renata, hiked her black dress to her waist, spread her legs, and brought her pussy to Renata’s mouth. Renata gripped her thighs, buried her tongue between her labia, and began licking her clitoris with long, hungry strokes while the cook continued drilling her from behind. Each thrust of the harness pushed Renata’s face against Daniela’s pussy, and Daniela pushed the back of her head to make her keep going. All three began trembling at once, a chain reaction that ended with Daniela coming over Renata’s mouth, Renata coming on the harness, and the cook biting her lip in a long spasm as the base of the harness pressed against her clitoris.

***

After being locked up again—Mariana had used the key for a few seconds to clean me before returning me to my prison, wiping me with a damp towel contemptuously and not allowing me a single tug—I was ordered to kneel in the corner.

“There, pet,” Mariana panted without pulling away from the blond, who was now fucking her again as she lay on her side on the sofa. “Watch and learn. And touch that cage if you want, just to see whether it does you any good.”

The humiliation burned me like embers. And at the same time, I couldn’t look away. My wife’s face coming apart with pleasure; the sweat on her forehead and between her breasts; the blond waiter pounding her without rest, his shining cock sliding in and out of her open pussy; Clarita’s moans as she came again on the dark-haired man, who now had her sitting backward in his lap, her legs spread and her breasts bouncing while he opened her pussy with two fingers so everyone could see how his cock split her; Renata’s cries mingling with Daniela’s while the cook moved from one to the other like someone arranging a table. I pressed my open palm against the steel, feeling my cock trying to swell against the bars, each attempt a sharp stab, the pre-cum still dripping from me, now a continuous thread onto the tiles.

The blond pulled away from Mariana with his cock gleaming, soaked in my wife’s pussy, and approached the neighboring sofa. He shoved himself deep into Renata’s mouth, gripping the back of her head, and Renata sucked obediently, mucus and saliva running down her chin, while the dark-haired man released Clarita and took the blond’s place between my wife’s legs. Mariana welcomed him with a long moan and wrapped her legs around his hips.

“Oh, yes, keep going, you keep going,” she panted. “Both of you, one after the other. I want to try you both, one right after the other.”

Then they switched again. The cook removed the harness and handed it to Daniela, who buckled it on with nimble fingers, placed Clarita on her back on the rug, raised her legs onto her shoulders, and drove the dildo in to the hilt. Clarita screamed, grabbing her own breasts, and came again within minutes. Meanwhile, the cook sat on the dark-haired waiter’s face and moved slowly over his mouth, giving him short orders.

Each one finished wherever she or he wanted. The blond came inside Renata with a long groan, filling her completely before pulling out and letting one last stream fall over her breasts. The dark-haired man came inside my wife, his hands dug into her hips, and stayed inside her for a long while so not a drop would escape. The cook, unhurried, made her two companions on the sofa come in turns, first with her fingers, then with her tongue, then again with the harness when Daniela handed it back.

When everything began to ease, when the air had grown heavy with the dense smell of sweat, semen, and pussy, Mariana found me through her hazy gaze.

“Come here, darling. Time to clean.”

I crawled forward on my aching knees. Mariana guided me first to Clarita, sprawled on the rug, still breathing unevenly, her pussy open, the dark-haired man’s semen mixed with her own dripping down the insides of her thighs.

“Offer your tongue to my friend. Be a good cleaning tool. Don’t let a single drop escape.”

“Yes, yes!” Clarita laughed, spreading herself wider with her fingers and exposing the pink, swollen interior. “Every drop, Sebastián. And use your tongue properly in there.”

I buried my face between her thighs. The taste was overwhelming, salty and thick, mixed with her own wetness and the waiter’s hot semen. I ran my whole tongue along her slit, from bottom to top, and swallowed the first mouthful. Clarita moaned, grabbed my hair, and pressed my face against her, forcing me to push my tongue deeper, suck her swollen clitoris, and lap up every trace. I swallowed obediently while all four women cheered me on as if we were at a birthday party.

This is rock bottom. And yet I’m doing it.

When I finished with Clarita, Mariana took me to Renata, who spread her legs over the arm of the sofa and presented me with her pussy, the blond’s semen still dripping from it. I cleaned every fold, sucked her labia one by one, and drove my tongue into her entrance to draw out everything he had left inside her. Renata came once more against my mouth, squeezing my head between her thighs until I could barely breathe.

“Good boy,” she murmured, patting my cheek when she released me. “You’re better at this than at almost anything.”

Mariana pulled me away afterward and took me to herself. Her scent was stronger, more familiar. She sat on the edge of the sofa, spread her legs wide, and pointed to the floor with one finger.

“Now me. Clean your wife properly. They both came inside me. I want them out, in your mouth, and you’ll swallow every last bit.”

I buried my tongue where she indicated. I drew out what the blond and dark-haired men had left there, thick and hot, feeling it slide over my tongue and down my throat while she stroked my hair with possessive fingers. I licked her outer lips, parted the inner ones with the tip of my tongue, and sucked at her entrance until I felt the inside contract and release another warm wave. I swept my flat tongue over her swollen clitoris, and she moaned, arched her hips, and pressed my face against herself.

“Good boy. Swallow it all. This is your place. Beneath me. On your knees. With your mouth on my pussy while other men fill me.”

She came over my tongue once more, squeezing my head between her thighs, biting her lip and looking toward her friends as though she were showing me to them too. The cage between my legs struck me with pure pain each time my body tried to respond.

***

The party continued until well into the early morning. More positions, more turns, more tasks for my tongue. The blond recovered and fucked the cook too, and she asked him to come in her mouth and take a picture so she could show it to her husband the next day. Daniela ended up on all fours on the rug with the dark-haired man behind her and Clarita beneath her, sitting underneath and sucking her clitoris while the man pounded her ass with brutal slowness. Renata put the harness on again and took turns with Mariana fucking Daniela until Daniela called for a truce.

And I moved back and forth among them. Lick here. Clean this. Get on your knees. Open your mouth. Swallow. At some point they forced me to kiss the blond waiter’s feet, still stained with sweat and everything else, while he laughed and whispered things in my ear that I’d rather not repeat. At another point they made me lie on my back and used my tongue as a seat, first Daniela, then the cook, barely letting me breathe between them, covering my nose with their pussies while demanding that I work my tongue faster.

When they finally separated, exhausted, the key was still hanging between Mariana’s breasts, swinging with every breath she took. I remained kneeling on the rug, locked up, my knees marked, my jaw aching, my face sticky, and a taste of semen and other women’s pussy that would take days to disappear.

Mariana looked at me from the sofa, disheveled and satisfied, with the tired smile of someone who had had exactly the night she wanted. She ran two fingers over her pussy, still glistening, and offered them to me. I sucked them without her having to ask.

“Are you all right, darling?”

I nodded because it was the only thing I knew how to do. And as I nodded, while my body hurt and the cage continued squeezing me, I realized that yes, I was. That’s the part that’s hardest to confess.

How did I end up here? And why don’t I ever want this to stop?

This is what I’ve never told anyone. This is my life, and until now I haven’t found a way to change it. I’m not even sure I want to.