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The Cage #2


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Monday and the cage is still in place.

There is a tally she has made in marker upon the wall

Slashes in black ink across the white wallpaper

A slash for every time I have made her cum by eating her offered pussy

A slash for every time I have probed her ass with my wet tongue.

A slash for every time my ass has been fucked.

A slash for every instance in which she took me by the mouth.

And the slashes that never made it on the wall, the board, our scorecard

My orgasms  flat-lining in at zero, a theoretical, unproven

As my cock grinds and leaks within its cage.

Monday and the weekend is over…

Sent to work in the frigid cold, ten hours with my unspent cock still screaming

Hemmed in steel

Soft in rigid confines.

After ordeal by labor she says, “ This weekend I will lend you to him again…

He will make you a woman…

But he will not take off your cage.

See if you love him when the pleasure is his alone, little slave.

See if you love him when you are sent to him as nothing more than the object I have made you.

My cunt and butt slut…his hole to fill…

Will you love him when you cannot cum?

Or do you only love yourself, your own pleasure

The sweet thrill of received desire?”

My mistress says, “ Do not mistake me…

Do not get the wrong idea…

You are too far gone to ever be a sub again…you are a slave, little boy…

And he will use you as his slave…

Let us see if you will love him then.”

And as her plastic cock once more slips into my ass

As my caged prick leaks it’s last resistance to the perils of its straight

I tell her that I love her, whatever I am,

Whatever I might be

That I love her.

“ Of course you do.” she whispers knowing.

Cinches the gag deep in my mouth and all else is lost in my silence

Her savage love.

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