256. Emily - Caged 2

256. Emily - Caged 2
As a submissive woman, I never imagined I’d find it sexy when a man called himself a good boy—but somehow, Mads makes it sound hot as hell.
“Have you?” I ask.
“Yes!” he hurries to say. “I’ve been a very good boy.” He keeps his voice low so no one will hear.
“Hmmm…” I murmur. “Then I’ve got you a present.”
Ever since he told me he wanted me to dominate him, I’ve been thinking of ways to do it. My research led me to chastity cock cages, and naturally, I bought him one two days ago. I just hadn’t found the right moment to give it to him—until now. It’s in my purse, waiting, and I plan to surprise him with it after the exhibition ends.
He lifts his head up. His eyes twinkle with joy as he asks, “You did?” When I nod, he adds, “What is it?” 
“You will see when we are alone.” 
For the next hours, I watch Mads keep looking at his watch, eager for the exhibition to be over. 
To no one’s surprise, by the end of the night, every painting has been sold—except for the ones he gave me.
When the last guest leaves, Mads pulls me into the office and locks the door.
“I can’t take it anymore. I need to see my present now.”
I press my lips together to stop myself laughing — I never thought he’d be this impatient. I lean against the desk and set my purse beside me. 
“First, show me what a good boy you are for me,” I murmur.
His eyes flash red. He drops to his knees and tries to press his face to my knees, but the slight raise of my eyebrow makes him stop.
 “I said show me, not touch me. You haven’t earned that right,” I tell him.
 “Please,” he begs, and my toes curl. “Let me touch you. I need it.”

I cross my legs and place my right black stiletto against his chest. “You may briefly touch my skin.”
 He runs the tips of his fingers along my smooth leg, and I bite back a moan.
“What should I call you?” he asks.
“Mistress. I am your Mistress, and you are my little pet. Does that work for you?”
The loud groan that erupts from his throat, followed by his lips attacking my ankle, is all the answer I need. 
I remove my foot from his chest and part my legs just enough for him to see I’m wearing no panties. He breathes in sharply.
“Tell me, little pet, do you like touching yourself while thinking of me?” I ask.
“Yes,” he groans.
I tsk. “You didn’t ask for my permission, little pet, and I can’t allow that to happen again.” I pick up my purse and open it. “This is why I got you a cock cage,” I say, pulling out the gift. “Because only I decide when you are allowed to come.”
I smile as his eyes follow the soft pink cage. 
A polished pink-steel cage shaped like a short spiral cone — open-work rings that taper toward the tip, while the base is a solid circular ring that sits behind the testicles. A small perforation at the tip allows urine to flow. It allows for a lot of skin to be exposed for teasing and stroking. On one side, a small vertical post accepts a tiny brass padlock; the key is tucked safely in my purse.
It’s pink because I thought it was cute. Because I liked the idea of something so pretty holding so much power over him. Pink, so he’ll never forget who owns him.
I let it dangle from my fingers just long enough to see his breath hitch, his chest rise and fall like he’s already bound by it.
“Do you understand what this means, little pet?” I ask softly. 
He swallows hard, eyes flicking from the cage to my face. He wants it. No. It’s more than that. He needs it. 
He nods. 
I tilt my head, while a sensual smile touches my lips. “Say it.”
His gaze never leaves mine. “It means I’m yours. Completely. It means I’m owned. By you.”
“Remove your clothes,” I order him. 
He quickly removes his tie, then unbuttons his shirt; the fabric slips over his shoulders and falls to the floor. He reaches for his belt.
“Slow,” I tell him, watching every inch of skin revealed.
He obeys, taking his time as he slides out of his pants.
When he stands before me, fully naked, all I can think about is running my palms over his body and worshipping his cock—but this isn’t about me. This is about us exploring things, about him being submissive to me.
I move away from the desk and kneel in front of him so I can put the cage on.
“Hold still,” I murmur, pressing the cage into place. My movements are slow, not rushed. The metal is cool against his heated skin, and he gasps now that his cock is my property.
When the lock clicks shut, I rise to my feet. “Pretty,” I murmur, leaning in so my lips brush his ear. “Just like you.”
I step back and ask, “Do you like it?”
“Yes, Mistress. Very, very much.”
“Good boy,” I praise, leaning against the deck. “I will reward you now.” I slowly inch up my dress, exposing my bare pussy to him.
Caging him made me wetter than I ever expected; my clit throbs so hard it’s almost painful. If I don’t come within the next heartbeat, I’ll rip that cage off and ride him until I can no longer move. 
“On your knees,” I tell him.
He drops instantly.
I slide my fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to guide him. “You know what I want. Make me come.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he murmurs, and then his mouth is on me.
He starts slow, reverent even, brushing his lips over my folds, teasing my clit with the barest flick of his tongue. My breath catches despite myself. When I press forward, his tongue answers, firmer now, circling, stroking, sucking just enough to make me gasp and moan in pleasure. Each one of my moans and cries of pleasure are met with a groan from him. 
“Harder,” I whisper, my grip tightening in his hair.
He obeys without hesitation. His tongue moves faster, his mouth skillfully driving me crazy. Every groan he lets slip vibrates against me, sending shocks of pleasure through my body. My hips rock against his face, shameless, using him for my own pleasure. 
“Good boy,” I breathe, grinding against his mouth. “Stay right there.”
He groans into me, the sound humming against my clit until I’m trembling hard. My thighs clamp around his head, holding him where I need him most. The pressure builds—all-consuming—and then it crashes over me in waves that leave me gasping and clawing at the desk for balance.
“Mads!” I moan as I come hard. He keeps licking me. 
I shove him back only when the aftershocks leave me shuddering, my chest heaving. His lips are wet with me, his eyes wide with hunger and pride.
I bend down, catch his face in my hands, and press my mouth to his—short, fierce, claiming. “Good boy,” I whisper against his lips. “You’ve earned your reward.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” he says. 
“You will stay caged until I decide to take it off.” 
His eyes go dark. “Yes, Mistress.” 

Only 2 more chapters + prologue left - I do hope to have them done tomorrow. I am doing research for the wedding :) I am stuck on the proposal, but something will come to me.