Two Keys Around HER Neck

He opened his eyes and looked at the alarm clock again. 6:45. He figured that he must have actually got some sleep since the last time he had looked, but he wasn't sure. What he was sure of was that he wouldn't be getting back to sleep again now.

He rarely actually spent all night in a cock cage; when he did, though, normally he eventually slept pretty well from around midnight to around 5 AM, when his body would begin its daily attempt to achieve a glorious morning erection, and he would be awakened by the device's cruel restraint.

He was feeling that restraint right now -- not enough to be actually painful, but plenty uncomfortable enough to start his brain on that relentless feedback loop that would overpower any attempt to drift off into slumber.

He had been caged since last night because Ms. Morrigan had had a date. A date which he had paid for. The combination of those two facts had kept him tossing and turning all night.

He pulled himself out of bed and began his morning routine of making coffee and walking the dog, after putting on a pair of loose running shorts that would conceal the wicked device that was encasing his genitals from any neighbors he might encounter. Then he settled down on the couch and opened his laptop, trying to find something to distract him while he watched the minutes crawl toward eight o'clock, then nine, then ten ...
Finally, his cell phone dinged and he eagerly picked it up to see the message from Ms. Morrigan.

"Good morning, my pet. Sleep well?"

He smiled ruefully. "Not really," he replied, knowing that it would please her to hear confirmation of his torment.

"Poor baby."

He couldn't resist getting to the heart of the matter. "How was your date?"

"Was?" she replied. "Who says it's over?"

He groaned, his mind instantly conjuring an image of Ms. Morrigan texting him from the rumpled sheets of a queen-sized bed while her mysterious new paramour relaxed beside her, enjoying the afterglow from their good-morning encounter.

"Just teasing," she added. "You're so predictable."

He grinned and contemplated his next message, as she sent him another text. "Why don't you come over? Bring me some bagels."

An hour later, he was in Ms. Morrigan's living room, sitting at one end of her sofa, naked at her request, except for the hard contraption that rendered his penis invisible and useless. Ms. Morrigan sat at the other end, clad in a rich paisley silk robe, turned to face him with her bare legs and dainty feet in his lap where he could caress them for her.

"So," she offered, between bites of bagel and cream cheese, "You're dying to ask me about last night."

"Yes," he agreed. "Did you have a good time?"

"It was lovely," she confirmed. "He was very good company. And it was a very nice meal. Thank you for paying for it."

He thought his penis was already as hard as the cage would allow it to get, but those words caused him to feel an additional surge against the bars of his prison.

"He had a lovely smile," she continued. "Gray eyes. Very nice haircut ... quite expensive, no doubt."

She took a sip of her coffee and watched her admirer's eyes. His were blue, although at the moment his pupils were so dilated that they looked black.

"Let's see. He was wearing an off-white linen sportscoat, and a linen shirt. Tommy Bahama. He was really quite scrumptious."

Her companion swallowed and pursed his lips. "So ... tell me ... what were you wearing?"

"That bandage dress...the midnight blue one," she began, noticing how his brow furrowed. She smiled. Of course, he didn't know what she meant by "that" dress. It wasn't the kind of thing she wore around the house while he did chores for her.

"Oh, I suppose you don't know. Well, it's a bodycon dress. Form-fitting." She placed her hands around her breasts and pushed them together and upwards inside the silky robe. "Plunging neckline, of course. Sleeveless, except for some ruffles."

She moved her hands down her body, pushing them together as she crossed her belly, placing them wider apart as she moved over the swell of her hips, then together again as they slipped down her thighs until they came together at her knees "And a cute little ruffle at the hemline, too."

He found himself breathing more heavily, imagining how the stranger's eyes must have followed the same path as those hands last night when Ms. Morrigan had opened the door for him, in that dress.

"Anything else you're curious about?" she said, raising one foot from his lap and tapping his chest with it.

"Umm ... so what did you have for dinner?"

"Well, we started off with appetizers. Frondosa mushrooms, and charred octopus, if you can believe it! Then I had the prawns, and he had ... hmm. Well, that's not really what you're curious about, is it?"

He exhaled and paused. Of course he wanted to know intimate details. He hoped she would throw him a bone, but at this point he was still resisting the urge to beg. Although he knew he eventually would.

"But what was he like? What did you talk about?" He insisted on dragging out the game, remaining discreet, edging his mind the way she had been edging his sexual excitement for months.

"Well, we talked quite a bit about Neil Gaiman books," she replied, and noted how her response seemed to distress him. "What, you were hoping he only wanted to talk about sports and cars?"

"No, no, of course not," he said. "I want you to have enjoyed yourself."

"That's a good boy. But you're holding back. You want to know what happened afterwards, don't you?"

"Yes," he admitted, meekly.

She raised her foot again, this time placing her big toe on his lower lip, and pulling it down teasingly. "Would you be disappointed if I told you that he walked me to my door and gave me an innocent goodnight kiss?"

"Disappointed?" Actually, he really hadn't spent much energy entertaining that option.

"I want to know what you thought about all night last night," she stated, changing direction on him.

He reached up and took her foot off his chin and held it back against his chest, in both hands. "Well, honestly I ... I mean, my mind was racing. It was everywhere."

"Uh huh," she prodded. "You had naughty thoughts, didn't you?"

He lowered his eyes and nodded.

"You know, I'm your goddess. You're not supposed to have those kinds of thoughts about me. You're supposed to limit yourself to worshipping my feet."

He nodded again, suddenly awash with uncertainty. But she gave him a reprieve. Sort of. "It's okay. You told me beforehand that paying for my date felt like a whole other level.

"You thought about him undressing me, didn't you? It's all right. As long as you don't think about you undressing me. Or touching me above the knee."

He gave her another weak nod, and she smiled. "You thought about his hands on my breasts? His mouth on my breasts?"

He nodded some more, finding it hard to make eye contact with her. "You thought about
me undressing him. About him lying me down on my bed, moving on top of me? Opening my thighs?" She had moved one hand to those thighs, stroking them gently.

"You thought about my thighs, around his head? Around his waist?"

He gulped hard. Of course he had. All night long. He realized that he was reflexively squeezing his knees together, moving his hips almost imperceptibly, trying to thrust his stunted erection against the ring of his cage, in a futile pantomime of the vigorous thrusting that he had spent last night imagining that his rival was doing. He looked up into his mistress' eyes and realized that she was watching; she knew what he was doing.

"It's not only what you thought about," she continued. "It's what you wanted. Isn't it? It's why the idea of paying for my date was so irresistible to you. You wanted to be my cuckold, didn't you?"

Trembling, he nodded. Again.

"Well, I'm not the kind to kiss and tell," she replied. "But I will say this. He understands cuckolding."

He made eye contact with her again, noted her wry smile. "So ... he knows about me?"

"Well, I had to explain why I picked up the check," she confided. "He's not the kind of man who expects a lady to pay for dinner.

"So I told him, I completely agree. And then I told him that another man had jumped at the chance to pay for our evening together."

"Huh," he managed to say. "And how did he respond to that?"

"Well," she replied. "His eyes got wide. And then he smiled. And then I took him home."

After a pause, she pushed ahead. "It's what you wanted, right? You wanted to be a cuckold?"

He closed his eyes. And nodded. Again.

"Well, I'll tell you this much. He gets it."

Then she raised her hands from her lap to her neckline, and drew her silk robe open, just a bit, just enough to show a glimpse of her magnificent cleavage, and the silver chain around her neck.....

There were two keys dangling from it......