The airport thrummed with restless noise—announcements blaring, travellers shuffling, suitcases clattering. Kevin stood beside Moira, his curvaceous redheaded wife, as they approached security. Her sundress hugged her voluptuous figure—breasts straining the fabric, hips rolling with each step. Her auburn hair spilled over her shoulders, a fiery lure that stoked Kevin’s desire. But that desire was trapped, locked away in the steel chastity cage she’d fastened around him three weeks ago. Every movement rubbed the metal against his flesh, a relentless tease under her command.

That morning, in their hotel room, he’d begged. “Please, Moira,” he’d whispered, kneeling as she lounged in a sheer negligee, her nipples teasing the lace. “Just for the flight. Security might—”

Her laugh had sliced through his plea, sharp and sweet. “Oh, Kevin,” she’d purred, leaning close so her breasts nearly brushed his face. “Unlock you for a scanner? No, darling. I love knowing my man’s caged, squirming for me. It’s so… hot.” She’d traced a nail along his jaw, her green eyes gleaming. “You’ll manage.”

Now, in the security line, managing was the last thing he felt capable of. The cage shifted with every step, pressing against his trapped cock, arousal clashing with dread. Moira sailed through the metal detector, her smirk wicked as she glanced back. Kevin followed, holding his breath. The machine screeched, red lights flashing.

“Sir, step over here,” a voice barked. Moira’s grin widened as she sauntered off, leaving him to face the consequences.

A female officer approached—tall, stern, with dark hair in a tight bun and a badge reading “Officer Lara.” Her brown eyes fixed on him as she led him to a screened-off room. “Empty your pockets,” she said, closing the curtain with a snap. Kevin fumbled with his keys and wallet, sweat prickling his skin. The wand beeped over his crotch, and Lara’s brow furrowed.

“What’s that?” she asked, her tone crisp but curious. “Jewellery? A piercing?”

Kevin’s face burned. “It’s… a chastity device. Metal. My wife—she has the key.”

Lara’s eyes widened briefly, then a slow, feral smile curled her lips. “A chastity device,” she murmured, her voice dropping low. “God, that’s hot. The idea of a man caged up like that…” She reached behind her, flicking a switch on the wall. Kevin didn’t notice at first, too rattled by her words, but later he’d realize it shut off the room’s camera, cloaking them in secrecy.

She stepped closer, her breath warm on his neck. “I need to verify. Drop your pants.”

His hands trembled as he unbuckled his belt, sliding his jeans down. The steel cage glinted—his cock confined, the padlock a taunting ornament. Lara’s gaze darkened, her smile sharpening. “Look at that,” she whispered, circling him. “All locked up, helpless. Does she tease you with it? Give you tantalizing little glimpses?”

Before he could respond, she tugged her shirt, revealing a glimpse of cleavage—firm, tanned skin over a black bra. Kevin’s breath caught, the cage tightening as his body surged. “Like that?” she teased, her voice husky.

“Y-yes,” he stammered. “She does. All the time.”

Lara’s chuckle was rich and throaty. “I bet she bends over a lot too, doesn’t she? Showing off what you can’t have?” She dropped her pen, turning slowly to retrieve it. Her hips swayed as she bent, her skirt inching up to hint at her ass. Kevin’s mouth dried, his trapped arousal throbbing.

She straightened, closing the distance, her eyes locked on his. “Does all that flaunting get her as hot as it’s getting me?” Her hand slipped beneath her skirt, fingers moving subtly. She moaned softly, then pulled her hand free, fingertips glistening. “See what your little predicament does to me?” she purred. Before he could react, she reached out, wiping her wet fingers across his cheek, the warm, slick touch a shocking intimacy that made him flinch and burn. “The thought of you locked up, desperate… it’s fucking delicious.”

Kevin stood rooted, pulse hammering, the cage an exquisite torment, her scent lingering on his skin. Lara smirked, stepping back. “You’re clear,” she said, her tone brisk again. “Go back to your wife. I’m sure she’ll love this.”

He stumbled out, jeans up, face aflame, her damp mark cooling on his cheek. Moira waited by the gate, lounging with a magazine, legs crossed to flaunt her calves. She looked up, clocking his disarray—and the faint sheen on his face. “Well?” she asked, amusement dancing in her voice. “How’d it go?”

“She… searched me,” he muttered, sinking beside her. “Said it was hot. She… touched herself. Wiped it on me.”

Moira’s eyes sparkled, and she let out a delighted chuckle. “Oh, Kevin, caught by a woman who gets it. Poor thing, teased twice over.” She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear, her breath hot. “Did she make you ache even more?”

He nodded, wretched and exhilarated. Moira’s laugh was soft, victorious. “Good,” she whispered, patting his thigh just above the cage. “That’s exactly how I like you.”

As they boarded, Kevin’s mind reeled—Lara’s bold touch, Moira’s control, the pulsing need locked away. The holiday loomed, a week of sun, sea, and Moira’s relentless, delicious torment—and he was hers, utterly and completely.

---

The plane touched down under a blazing Mediterranean sun, the air thick with salt and promise as Kevin and Moira stepped onto the tarmac. The flight had been torture—hours of Moira’s subtle taunts, her hand grazing his thigh, her sundress riding up just enough to torment him. The chastity cage, still locked tight, had kept him in a state of simmering, unfulfilled need, Lara’s damp touch still a ghost on his cheek. He’d clung to one hope: maybe, just maybe, Moira would unlock him once they reached the hotel.

Their taxi wound through sun-bleached streets, past whitewashed buildings and shimmering sea views, until they arrived at a boutique hotel perched on a cliff. The lobby was all cool marble and soft breezes, a stark contrast to the heat pulsing through Kevin as he dragged their suitcases inside. Moira checked in, her hips swaying as she leaned over the counter, her dress dipping to tease a glimpse of her cleavage. Kevin watched, aching, the cage a cruel jailer.

In their room—spacious, with a balcony overlooking the ocean—Moira kicked off her sandals and flopped onto the king-sized bed, her dress fanning out around her lush curves. “Finally,” she sighed, stretching so her breasts strained the fabric, her nipples faintly outlined. “Paradise.”

Kevin set the bags down, his voice tight. “Moira… the key. Please.”

She propped herself on her elbows, her green eyes glinting with that familiar mischief. “The key?” She patted her purse, then frowned, rummaging through it with exaggerated care. Lipstick, sunglasses, a crumpled boarding pass—but no key. Her frown deepened, then morphed into a sheepish grin. “Oh, darling… I think I left it at home.”

Kevin stared, disbelief crashing over him. “What? No—you can’t be serious.”

“I’m afraid so,” she said, sitting up, her tone firm despite the playful curl of her lips. “It was a mistake, I swear. I meant to bring it, but it’s sitting on the dresser, isn’t it? Oops.” She shrugged, her breasts bouncing slightly, as if it were a minor inconvenience.

“Moira, this isn’t funny,” he said, voice rising. “I’ve been locked up for weeks—through security, that whole thing with Lara—and now you’re telling me I’m stuck like this for the whole holiday?”

She slid off the bed, closing the distance between them, her bare feet silent on the tile. “Kevin,” she purred, pressing herself against him, her curves soft and warm through the thin dress. “Don’t be so dramatic. Look on the bright side.” Her hands trailed up his chest, then down, stopping just above the cage. “I’m not locked, am I? And you’ve still got that clever tongue of yours.”

His breath caught as she stepped back, peeling the sundress over her head in one fluid motion. It pooled on the floor, leaving her in nothing but a lacy white thong, her full breasts swaying free, nipples hardening in the cool air. She perched on the edge of the bed, spreading her thighs just enough to make his mouth water, the thong barely concealing the heat between her legs.

“Come here,” she said, voice low and commanding. “You can’t fuck me, but you can make me scream. Isn’t that what you want? To please me?”

Kevin’s disbelief warred with the raw need clawing at him. The cage throbbed, his cock straining uselessly as he sank to his knees before her. She hooked a finger under the thong, tugging it aside to reveal her glistening folds, already slick with anticipation. “See?” she teased, running a finger along herself, then holding it up, wet and shining. “I’ve been thinking about this all day—your tongue, your desperation. It’s hotter knowing you’re locked up for it.”

He groaned, leaning in, the scent of her arousal flooding his senses. She grabbed his hair, guiding him as his tongue flicked out, tasting her—salty, sweet, intoxicating. She moaned, loud and unrestrained, her hips rocking against his mouth. “That’s it,” she gasped, her free hand kneading her breast, pinching a nipple. “Make me come, Kevin. Show me how much you love being mine.”

He worked her with fervour, lips and tongue worshipping her, the cage a cruel counterpoint to the heat of her against his face. Her thighs trembled, clamping around him as she arched, her cries echoing off the walls. When she finally shuddered, soaking his chin, she pushed him back, breathless and flushed, her eyes gleaming with triumph.

“Good boy,” she panted, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. She stood, letting the thong snap back into place, and sauntered to the balcony, naked save for that scrap of lace. “See? We don’t need the key. You’re perfect just like this.”

Kevin sat back on his heels, dazed, the taste of her lingering, the cage tighter than ever. She was right—he could please her, and the thought of her flaunting her freedom all week, using him however she pleased, sent a dark thrill through him. Moira glanced over her shoulder, her red hair catching the sunlight, and smirked. “Now, unpack my bikini,” she said. “I want to sunbathe—and you’re going to rub oil on me next.”

The holiday stretched ahead, a tantalizing gauntlet of Moira’s desires and his submission—and without that key, he was hers in every way that mattered.

---

The hotel room buzzed with the lazy hum of a ceiling fan, the late afternoon sun spilling golden light across the balcony where Moira lounged. She’d slipped into a bikini after her earlier climax—a skimpy red number that barely contained her curves, the triangles of fabric straining over her full breasts, the bottoms tied low on her hips. Kevin had watched, still on his knees, the taste of her lingering on his tongue, the chastity cage an unrelenting vice around his trapped arousal. Her command to unpack her bikini had been followed by a promise of oiling her up, and now she reclined on a cushioned chair, skin glistening under a thin sheen of sweat, waiting for him to fetch his swimwear and join her.

“Kevin,” she called, her voice a sultry lilt, “hurry up with that oil. And put on your swimshorts—I want to see you out here, looking cute for me.”

He rummaged through his suitcase, heart thudding. The swimshorts he’d packed—loose, comfortable, modest—were nowhere to be found. Instead, his fingers brushed something smaller, tighter. He pulled it out, and his stomach sank. A pair of bright blue swim trunks, sleek and form-fitting, stared back at him—more Speedo than shorts, the kind that left little to the imagination. He held them up, the fabric stretching taut between his hands, and realization hit like a wave: Moira had swapped them.

“Moira,” he said, stepping onto the balcony, the trunks dangling from his fingers. “What the hell is this? I packed my swimshorts—the black ones. These… these aren’t mine.”

She turned her head, sunglasses perched on her nose, and grinned, a flash of white teeth against her freckled skin. “Oh, those? I thought you’d look better in something… snugger. I swapped them out before we left. Surprise!” She propped herself on one elbow, her breasts shifting in the bikini top, a deliberate tease. “Go on, put them on. I want to see.”

“Moira, no,” he protested, voice tight. “These—they’ll show everything. The cage, it’ll—”

“Exactly,” she cut in, her grin widening. “That’s the point, darling. I want everyone to know you’re mine—locked up, on display. It’s so hot.” She sat up, crossing her legs, the bikini bottoms riding up to reveal more of her hips. “Now, be a good boy and change. Or do I have to come in there and dress you myself?”

Kevin’s face burned, but the command in her tone—and the dark thrill of her words—left him no room to argue. He retreated to the bathroom, stripping off his jeans with shaking hands. The cage gleamed under the harsh light, a stark contrast to his flushed skin. He pulled the trunks on, wincing as the fabric stretched tight, moulding to his body like a second skin. The outline of the cage was unmistakable—a pronounced bulge that hugged his groin, the steel’s contours faintly visible through the thin material. Every curve, every ridge, was exposed, and the pressure only amplified the ache he’d been fighting all day.

He stepped back onto the balcony, tugging at the waistband futilely. Moira’s eyes lit up, a delighted laugh spilling from her lips. “Oh, Kevin,” she purred, sliding her sunglasses down to get a better look. “You look divine. Look at that—my caged little man, all wrapped up for me.” She stood, sauntering over, her hips swaying hypnotically. Her fingers traced the outline of the cage through the trunks, a featherlight touch that made him gasp.

“It’s… humiliating,” he muttered, though his body betrayed him, twitching under her scrutiny.

“It’s perfect,” she corrected, pressing herself against him, her breasts brushing his chest. “I love seeing you like this—helpless, mine, and so damn sexy.” She stepped back, grabbing the bottle of suntan oil from the table. “Now, oil me up. And then we’re going down to the pool.”

He took the bottle, hands trembling as he squeezed the oil into his palms. She turned, offering her back, and he rubbed it into her skin—smooth, warm, yielding under his fingers. The scent of coconut filled the air as he worked down her spine, over the swell of her hips, her thighs, her calves. She moaned softly, arching into his touch, her bikini barely containing her as she revelled in his attention. When he finished, she spun around, glistening like a goddess, and smirked.

“Your turn,” she said, snatching the bottle. She slathered oil over his chest, his arms, then knelt to rub it into his legs, her face inches from the trunks. “Look at you,” she murmured, her breath hot against the fabric. “All shiny and trapped. I could eat you up.” Her tongue flicked out, grazing the edge of the trunks, and he groaned, the cage tightening painfully.

She stood, wiping her hands on a towel, and grabbed his wrist. “Come on. Pool time.”

The walk through the hotel was a blur of mortification—heads turned, whispers followed, the trunks leaving nothing to the imagination. Moira strutted ahead, her bikini drawing eyes, but she made sure Kevin stayed close, her hand occasionally brushing his ass to keep him flustered. At the pool, she claimed a lounger, stretching out with a sigh. “Get me a drink,” she said, waving him off.

As he shuffled to the bar, the cage outlined for all to see, he caught her watching, her grin wicked and proud. The holiday was hers to command, and these trunks—tight, revealing, relentless—were just another tool in her arsenal. He was locked, exposed, and utterly at her mercy, and the bright side, as she’d put it, was all hers to enjoy.

---

The Mediterranean sun blazed down on the poolside, its heat a shimmering veil over the chlorine-scented air as Kevin returned from the bar, hands trembling around two frosty cocktails—Moira’s piña colada and his own rum-heavy escape. The ice clinked, betraying his nerves, the casual trousers clinging to his thighs and crotch, tight enough to hint at the chastity cage beneath—a faint, maddening outline that wasn’t blatant but pulsed with every step. His skin glistened with suntan oil, Moira’s earlier handiwork, making him a beacon for wandering eyes, his cheeks burning under the scrutiny. The cage ached, a relentless grip stoked by her teasing taste still lingering on his tongue from their room that afternoon.

He froze as he neared their loungers. Moira, her red bikini straining against her voluptuous curves, wasn’t alone. Sofia perched beside her, tanned and lithe, her emerald-green bikini hugging her athletic frame, jet-black ponytail swinging as she laughed—a conspiratorial melody twining with Moira’s. Sofia’s eyes flicked to Kevin, a smirk curling her lips, mirroring Moira’s wicked grin. “There he is,” Moira said, her voice bright with amusement, waving him over. “Kevin, darling, bring those drinks. I was just telling Sofia about you.”

He set the glasses down, the table wobbling under his shaky grip. “About me?” he asked, voice tight, dread coiling in his gut.

“Oh, yes,” Sofia replied, her Italian lilt a soft tease, leaning forward to flash a swell of cleavage, her gaze dropping to the trousers’ subtle bulge. “Moira’s been explaining your… situation. Locked up tight in that little cage. I’m intrigued.”

Moira sipped her piña colada, the creamy liquid clinging to her lips before she licked it off with deliberate slowness, green eyes sparkling. “Sofia noticed you at the bar—asked why my husband’s walking around with such a… noticeable accessory. I had to share.”

Kevin shifted, the trousers tightening, the cage throbbing. “Moira,” he muttered, half-pleading, but she cut in, sitting up, her bikini straining.

“Of course I did. Sofia’s curious—aren’t you, Sof?” Sofia nodded, twirling a strand of hair, smirk sharp.

“Very. I’ve never seen a man so… dedicated. And those trunks—madre mia, they hint at everything.” She leaned back, crossing her legs, thighs flexing. “How long’s he been locked, Moira?”

“Three weeks,” Moira said, pride lacing her tone. “And now the whole trip—I left the key at home. He’s been squirming since we left.”

Sofia’s eyebrow arched, her laugh bright and wicked. “Left it at home? You’re evil—I adore it.” Her gaze slid to Kevin, then back to Moira. “But don’t you ever crave a cock inside you? What do you do when you do?”

Moira’s grin faltered briefly, frustration flickering before she shrugged. “Normally, it’s simple—I unlock him when I need a proper fuck, let him have his fun, then lock him back up. Keeps him eager. But I forgot the damn key this time—left it on the dresser. I was aching for some deep, hard holiday sex, the kind that leaves you sore. Now I’m stuck with his tongue.”

Sofia’s eyes widened, her laughter sharp. “Oh, that’s priceless! You’re dying for it, and he’s right there, useless!” She glanced at Kevin, smirking softening to sympathy. “Poor thing. And poor you, Moira.”

Moira chuckled, reaching out to squeeze Kevin’s thigh, fingers brushing the cage’s outline. “He’s still got that tongue, though. Made me scream this afternoon—didn’t you, darling?” Kevin’s face burned. “I came so hard I nearly broke the bed. He’s desperate—makes him try harder.”

Sofia’s gaze turned predatory. “I bet it does,” she murmured, sipping her spritz. “You’re a lucky woman, Moira—even without the key.”

Later that evening as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in violet and amber the three of them strolled to a local bar Sofia having kind of attached herself to them, the warm evening air laced with salt and distant guitar strums. Moira’s slinky black dress hugged her curves—low-cut, short, a tease of thighs and cleavage—her red hair loose and catching streetlights. Sofia matched her in an emerald halter dress, fabric clinging to her lithe frame, ponytail swinging. Kevin trailed in his trousers and thin shirt, the cage’s outline faint but persistent, a quiet humiliation. The bar was a rustic dive, weathered wood and flickering lanterns, alive with locals and tourists swaying to sultry music. They claimed a high table near the patio, Sofia ordering mojitos for her and Moira, a beer for Kevin. Moira’s hand rested on his thigh under the table, nails grazing near the cage, a silent claim.

“So, Moira,” Sofia said, stirring her drink, “still mourning that key? Or has Kevin’s tongue kept you sane?”

Moira laughed, throaty and head-turning. “It’s a tragedy, Sof. I was craving a proper pounding tonight—sand, stars, the works. But he’s been good.” She squeezed his leg, making him tense. “Haven’t you, darling?” Kevin nodded, sipping his beer, the cage pulsing. “Trying,” he muttered.

Sofia smirked, leaning closer. “Trying’s not enough. You’ve got to keep her happy, locked or not.” She winked at Moira. “Maybe we’ll find you a substitute tonight—someone to fill the gap.” Moira’s eyes sparkled, but Kevin excused himself, needing a break from their relentless teasing.

“Bathroom,” he said, sliding off the stool, the trousers shifting as he walked, the cage a subtle anomaly in the dim light.

When he returned, Moira and Sofia weren’t alone. Two men stood at their table—Luca, tall and broad, dark hair and stubbled jaw, linen shirt unbuttoned to hint at muscle; Nico, leaner, blond, cocky grin and tight tee flexing over his arms. Their voices were low, flirtatious, Moira laughing as she brushed Luca’s arm, her cleavage spilling forward, Sofia batting lashes at Nico, her dress slipping to bare a shoulder. “…locked up tight, poor guy,” Moira was saying, playful. “I forgot the key, so I’m stuck with his tongue instead of the real thing.”

Luca grinned, gaze flicking to Kevin’s trousers. “That’s a shame. A woman like you deserves more.”

"Much more,” Nico added, winking at Sofia. “Maybe we can help.”

Kevin slid back onto his stool, beer in hand, gut twisting. “What’s going on?” he asked, voice tight.

Moira turned, grin wicked. “Oh, Kevin, meet Luca and Nico. They overheard us and offered their sympathies—and maybe some assistance.” She patted his knee, fingers drifting up, teasing the cage’s faint shape.

Sofia giggled, leaning into Nico. “They’re charming, Moira. Maybe we should dance—see what else they offer.”

Moira’s eyes locked on Kevin, mischief glinting. “What do you think, darling? Should I let Luca spin me around? Or will you sulk?”

Kevin gripped his beer, the cage a cruel pulse. “Whatever you want,” he managed, knowing resistance was futile.

“Good boy,” she purred, standing and taking Luca’s hand. “Come on, Sofia.”

The women sauntered to the dance floor, Luca’s arm around Moira’s waist, Nico pulling Sofia close. Their bodies swayed, Moira’s curves pressing against Luca, Sofia’s hips grinding subtly against Nico. Kevin watched, the cage throbbing as Moira glanced back, her wink a promise of more torment. The song slowed, Luca’s lips grazing Moira’s neck, Sofia’s hands on Nico’s shoulders as he pulled her tight, their dance intimate. When it ended, Moira fanned her face, sauntering back with Sofia, Nico’s arm still loose around her waist, Luca trailing with a knowing smirk.

“Miss me?” Moira asked, sliding onto her stool, dress hiking up. She leaned close, breath minty and warm. “Luca’s got strong hands. Felt good.” Her fingers trailed up Kevin’s leg, brushing the cage’s bulge.

Sofia flopped into her seat, laughing as Nico pulled a chair close. “I’m enjoying this attention,” she said, winking at Kevin. “These guys know how to make a girl feel wanted.”

Moira nodded, grinning. “It’s getting me heated, I’ll admit.” She turned to Kevin, eyes glinting. “What about you, darling? All this flirting and dancing—getting you going too?”

The cage throbbed as her words sank in. “It’s… intense,” he rasped, cock straining uselessly.

She smirked, lips brushing his jaw. “Good. It’s tough with you locked, but I’m managing.”

Luca chuckled, leaning in. “He’d struggle to keep up, no?”

Nico smirked. “Sounds like you need a stand-in. We’re happy to help.”

Sofia giggled, nudging Moira. “They’re eager—maybe we should take them up on it.”

Moira’s gaze locked on Kevin, desire simmering. “Should I let Luca take care of me tonight? Or will you sulk while I scratch this itch?”

Kevin’s beer trembled in his hand. “I… can’t stop you,” he said, voice hoarse, helplessness a twisted thrill.

“Good answer,” she murmured, patting his cheek. She turned to Luca. “Buy me another drink, handsome. Let’s see where the night goes.”

The bar’s haze deepened as Moira lounged closer to Luca, her fresh mojito sweating in her hand, sipping it with a hum, cheeks flushed. Sofia perched on Nico’s lap, her dress riding up, his hand tracing circles on her hip, her giggles softening into intimacy. Moira’s hand stayed on Kevin’s thigh, nails grazing near the cage, keeping him tethered. “You’re looking cozy,” she teased Sofia. “Nico keeping you entertained?”

Sofia shifted, drawing Nico’s hand higher. “More than that—I could get used to this.”

Moira’s gaze slid to Luca, then Kevin. “It’s definitely heating things up.” She squeezed his leg, fingers brushing the cage’s outline, breath warm against his ear. “Still getting you going, darling?”

“Yeah,” he rasped, the admission torn from him.

“Good,” she purred, hand sliding higher, cupping the cage briefly. She turned to Luca. “One more dance, then we’ll see what happens.”

Luca stood, pulling her up, Sofia hopping off Nico’s lap to follow, leaving Kevin alone with his beer. The music wrapped around them, slow and heavy—Moira melting into Luca’s arms, hands roaming his back, his cupping her ass; Sofia’s arms around Nico’s neck, his lips grazing her ear. Kevin saw every detail—Moira’s flush, her hips rocking against Luca, the hunger she couldn’t hide.

When the song ended, she lingered in Luca’s grasp, whispering something that made him nod, then sauntered back, smirk triumphant. “Luca’s coming back with us,” she said, leaning close, voice husky, hand on Kevin’s thigh. “Sofia’s taking Nico. You can watch—or wait in the hall.”

Sofia laughed, linking arms with Nico. “We’ll make it a party. Poor Kevin can play referee.”

Luca smirked, clapping Kevin’s shoulder. “No hard feelings, amigo. Just helping out.”

The walk back was a blur of laughter and flirtation, cobblestones echoing with Moira’s heels, Luca’s arm low on her waist, Sofia’s gasps at Nico’s whispers. Kevin trailed, the cage throbbing with each step, Moira’s backward glance a taunt. In the elevator, tension crackled—Moira pressed against Luca, breasts grazing his chest; Sofia’s hand under Nico’s shirt, his lips on her neck. Kevin stood in the corner, breath shallow, Moira’s brief squeeze of his hand a fleeting claim before she turned back to Luca.

Their room opened to dim light, the king-sized bed looming. Moira kicked off her heels, turning to Kevin. “Sit there,” she said, pointing to a chair by the bed. She spun to Luca, stepping into his arms. Sofia pulled Nico to the couch, tugging off his shirt and straddling him, their lips meeting hungrily. Moira sank to her knees before Luca, unbuttoning his trousers with slow precision, unveiling his cock—thick, hard, pulsing. She glanced at Kevin, ensuring he saw every detail—the glistening tip, the veins, the heft. “Look at this,” she purred, running a finger along it, drawing a groan from Luca. Her tongue flicked the tip, eyes locked on Kevin’s. “I might’ve wanted this even if you weren’t locked, darling. It’s gorgeous.”

Kevin’s trousers tightened, the cage clamping as she wrapped her lips around Luca, sucking with a wet, eager sound, angling so he saw—the swirl of her tongue, the stretch of her lips, the spit shining as she took him deeper. Luca groaned, hands in her hair, her moan vibrating through him. She pulled back, saliva stringing from her lips, and grinned. “Don’t want you left out,” she said, shedding her dress, leaving her in a lacy thong. “Get over here. Lick my pussy while I suck him.” Kevin dropped to his knees as she climbed onto the bed on all fours—ass toward him, head level with Luca’s groin. She tugged her thong aside, revealing her slick folds, and ordered, “Now.” He leaned in, tongue delving into her heat, her shudder rocking her hips back as she took Luca back into her mouth, moaning around him.

Luca guided her, her lips stretched wide, throat working him deeper. Kevin licked harder, the cage a cruel counterpoint to her taste—salty, intoxicating. Her moans sharpened, vibrating through Luca, who pulled out with a wet pop as she neared her peak, shifting behind her. Right in front of Kevin’s eyes, inches from his face, Luca thrust his bare cock into her pussy, slow and deep, filling her with a slick slide. Moira cried out, jolting, and Kevin saw it all—the stretch, the raw intimacy. “Keep going,” she gasped, and he licked her clit harder, tasting her as Luca moved inside her, relentless.

She pushed Luca onto his back, straddling him, sinking down with a moan, rolling her hips in a deliberate rhythm, breasts bouncing, thighs flexing. Sofia, watching from the couch, grinned. “That looks amazing. Could I borrow Kevin’s tongue? I want to be fucked and have a tongue on my clit too.”

Moira nodded, breathy. “Go ahead.”

Sofia grabbed Kevin. “Lie on the floor,” she ordered, and he stretched out, the tile cool against his skin. She positioned herself on all fours over him, knees bracketing his head, face above his crotch, her pussy inches from his mouth. She pouted at the cage’s bulge. “If only you weren’t locked—I’d be sucking your cock right now while he fucks me. Such a shame.”

Frustration surged through Kevin, a raw ache—her lips so close, her breath hot, the cage denying him what she taunted. If only, he thought, the image searing, but he swallowed it. At least he was still in it, and Moira was enjoying herself—that’s what mattered. Nico thrust into Sofia, her gasp rocking her forward, pussy brushing Kevin’s lips. “Tongue on my clit—now,” she commanded, and he licked, matching Nico’s steady rhythm, her taste flooding him—salty, sweet, overwhelming. Her thighs trembled, Nico groaned, filling her with a low curse, and as her climax hit, she sat back fully onto Kevin’s face.

He realized too late—her slick folds sealed over his mouth and nose, Nico’s cum flowing out, warm and thick, flooding his tongue. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, trapped. He had to swallow or drown, gulping the salty-bitter rush, her arousal and Nico’s release pouring down his throat. She ground against him, moaning, oblivious, and his mind raced, then calmed—it’s not so bad, actually, the taste tolerable, even nice in a primal way, once panic faded. Sofia lifted off, grinning. “That was unreal. Your boy’s a trooper.”

Moira laughed, hips bucking against Luca. “Wait—did you just make Kevin taste Nico’s cum?” Her voice sparkled with delight. “Oh, that’s brilliant—I love it!”

Sofia chuckled, nodding. “Couldn’t help myself.”

Moira’s scream tore through as she came, Luca filling her with a grunt, his release spilling hot inside her. She slid off, thighs slick, and locked eyes with Kevin, still on the floor, face wet. “Come here,” she commanded, patting the bed. “That was so fucking hot—Sofia feeding you Nico’s cum. Now clean me up—taste Luca’s too.”

Kevin sat up, mind a haze. Nico’s cum wasn’t bad—nice, even, if he didn’t dwell on it. Why not? He crawled onto the bed, Moira spreading her thighs, her pussy dripping with Luca’s creamy release. “Go on,” she urged, hand in his hair, guiding him. He pressed his mouth to her, tongue delving in, tasting the salty, musky richness—her arousal and Luca’s cum. He licked deeper, swallowing, her moans approving. “Good boy, take it all,” she purred, hips rocking.

Sofia stretched, pulling her dress on. “We should go,” she said, nudging Nico. “Grazie, bella,” Luca added, kissing Moira’s hand, and the trio slipped out, laughter fading. The room fell quiet, Moira lounging on the bed, Kevin beside her, face still wet, cage throbbing.

She propped herself on an elbow, eyes softening. “Well, that was something, wasn’t it?”

He nodded, wiping his face. “Yeah.”

She cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to leave that key behind—honest mistake. I wanted you free tonight, but we had a good evening anyway, didn’t we?” He exhaled, frustration simmering but easing.

“Yeah, we did. You enjoyed it—that’s what matters. Thanks for letting me be part of it.”

She smiled, kissing his forehead. “Thank you for being so understanding. You’re amazing.”

Her hand slid down, unbuttoning his trousers, tugging them off to unveil his caged cock. It gleamed, coated in a slick, sticky sheen—copious precum dripping over the steel, pooling on his balls. “Oh, darling,” she breathed, delight and sympathy mingling. “Leaking like this all night.”

Kevin groaned, frustration surging—Sofia’s taunt, Moira’s pleasure, the tastes still on his tongue. “It’s been… a lot,” he muttered. She grinned, tender yet wicked, leaning down. “Let me take care of this,” she murmured, tongue flicking out to lick the precum from the cage’s bars, sucking it through the gaps, lapping at his balls with a soft hum. “So sweet,” she purred, lips brushing the steel.

The sensation was maddening—her warm mouth teasing, cleaning every drop, offering no relief. His cock strained, pressure unbearable, frustration roaring back. “Moira,” he groaned, hands clenching the sheets, “that’s not helping.”

She pulled back, licking her lips, eyes glinting. “I know. But you taste too good, all pent up.” She stretched beside him, curling against his chest. “We’ll get that key when we’re home, I promise. For now, you’ve made this unforgettable.” He lay back, cage a relentless reminder, but her closeness eased the edge.

“Unforgettable is one way to put it,” he said, a wry smile tugging.

“You’re my good boy,” she whispered, fingers tracing his skin, “and tomorrow, we’ll see what else we can do—locked or not.”

The night settled, their breathing the only sound, Kevin’s frustration a quiet simmer beneath the strange contentment of her hold.