"You've been a very good obedient boy," M read. "Are you ready for your test?" M looked at his phone, wondering what this was about. He thought he had passed the first test.

M had been talking to Charlie for a month. It all began when he matched with her on a kink dating site; Charlie was a lovely, curvaceous, dominant with wavy auburn hair who was a nurse and had a passion for mystery novels, and she caught Charlie's eye for having a desire for lifestyle D/s, FLR, and service submission. M was a service submissive interested in exploring more the lifestyle had to offer, after a lifetime of casual play and short-lived kinky flings.

After a few days' sending messages and texts, M and Charlie met for a coffee date. It went well; they had quite a bit in common, the two hours they spent together felt like minutes, and after a hug and a kiss they went their separate ways after arranging a second date. Charlie told him she preferred to take things slow with potential subs to weed out bad matches, and M was more than happy to oblige as he'd prefer to get to know her better as well.

Their second date was much the same, but dinner and drinks followed by some kissing and petting in M's car before he dropped her off at her apartment. Their third date was more involved and erotic; Charlie invited M to her home, to strip, clean her kitchen, prepare her dinner, and do dishes as acts of service. M performed exactly as expected to Charlie's satisfaction, and though he was disappointed there was no play or even touching, he felt the electricity of sexual tension and thrill in the air, Charlie's hungry eyes on him, and the dull throb of his cock as it shifted through various states of arousal the entire evening.

Towards the end of their third date, Charlie did something M didn't expect. She told him that before they ever played, she would need to give him a test of patience and dedication. Charlie had always been plagued by men who weren't really submissive, would vanish after a single play session, would come on too strong or try to go too fast, or simply ghost; she felt M was a potential match, but she had to be sure.

Charlie gave M a chastity cage with a plastic numbered padlock, and told him before he left her apartment, he was to go to the bathroom, put it on, and show her. M was allowed to do whatever was necessary to put the cage on, and left him alone in the bathroom with a bottle of lube to perform the deed. M was already familiar with how chastity cages worked, but the more he tried to fit himself inside the cage, the harder and slipperier his cock became. After several minutes of frustrating failure, M had to make himself cum before his cock would soften enough to fit inside.

Charlie had seen M's nudes on his dating profile, and had to guess his size for the cage. As it turns out, she did quite well; the ring was a bit snug, or at least it felt that way to M, and the cage was a perfect match for M's flaccid penis. It would perfectly contain his penis comfortably, preventing erection and making attempts to pull out of it while even half-erect nearly impossible. Charlie made sure to check M's work with a thorough visual inspection, making sure no skin was pinching and no blood circulation was being lost, before sending him on his way with instructions.

M was not to contact her until she contacted him first, unless he needed to remove the cage. If it was an emergency she would understand and give him another chance a week from then, but if not, it would be the end of exploring a D/s dynamic together. But, she reassured him, when the time was right she absolutely would contact him. The cage was proof of it, and all Charlie had to do when she saw him next was check the serial number on the lock. Overcoming the trepidation and sense of cooled sexuality from his post-orgasmic state, M agreed.

The first evenings were difficult for M; he could not get a good night's sleep, awakening in discomfort from the cage due to nighttime erection. Being in chastity barely felt erotic to him at all, just cumbersome and uncomfortable. But by the third evening, he was growing tired enough over time and accustomed to the cage, that uncomfortable nighttime erections just became a fact of life, but that level of acceptance just ushered in a new level of discomfort.

M could not remember the last time he had gone this long without release. The cage was no longer just an annoyance keeping him up at night; it was an omnipresent barrier denying him the relief of an orgasm. His thoughts strayed more and more towards sex and the growing desperate need for release, his erections stopped being nighttime disturbances but rather ceaseless reminders of his confinement, which in turn became constant thoughts of Charlie as the woman who'd ordered him caged.

M remembered his orders, but found his resistance wavering. He scoured his phone, reliving their lengthy and daily text conversations over the past weeks. He fixated on the pictures she sent him; never really explicit, but reminder enough to him of the potential costs of failing his test. He realized how habituated he was to speaking to Charlie regularly by now, and how much he would miss her even if it weren't for the cage.

He checked her social media just to see what she was up to and how she was doing, and more than once he nearly picked up the phone to text, before reminding himself of the orders she laid out. Days four and five became more tortuous, and day six nearly broke him when Charlie had posted a picture of herself on social media, out with friends, wearing a simple sundress that exposed nothing more than her shoulders and the vaguest hint of cleavage. He was so desperate to cum, for her attention, that merely a picture was enough to send him to the brink of failure, and begging for a second chance; M had to put his phone down and force himself to do anything that got him away from it for the day, just to have a chance of passing his test.

And at last, on the afternoon of that seventh day, almost exactly one week since Charlie had M cage himself, came the text at which he was now looking.

"You've been a very good obedient boy, are you ready for your test?"

Just hearing from her for the first time in a week set M's heart racing. He had secretly doubted, wondering if this was some elaborate prank or deliberate act of sadism. He was even beginning to feel a little angry, that she would do such a thing and leave him hanging for a week. But Charlie was apparently genuine, and her text removed that doubt from his mind. A swirl of emotions ran through his head, as he wondered what she'd been up to and how she'd been for the past week; what was going on, and what did she plan?

And, wasn't this the test? To see if he could stay caged and without contact for a week?

M's hands shook as he replied, "Hey! Thanks for messaging! How have you been? Wasn't this the test?"

Within minutes came Charlie's next text: "I've been good, just work. It's been a busy week so I haven't had time to really do anything. This was just the first part of the test. The test actually comes tonight. A friend is having a small party, nothing crazy, but I need you to DD. I'll send you the address, pick me up at 8:00. Dress casual."

M was confused; what does a party have to do with a test? Is it a sex or BDSM party? Is there anything he needs to know about? Isn't Charlie going to ask how his week went, how hard it was to function daily, how horny he was, or how much he thought of her? He began to feel a little frustrated about the lack of information, but resisted the urge to text about it, knowing he would see her soon to ask in person.

"Okay, see you then," he texted.

"Great!" came the reply. M would have little time after he left work to eat, get ready, and pick up Charlie. She didn't text after the confirmation; M resisted the urge to just ask, and focused on finishing his work as quickly as possible. For once the chastity cage was a relief, not a burden, as its presence inhibited unwelcome and visible erection for the rest of his workday as M's mind roiled with questions and possibilities – a change of perspective which M was shocked and even a little thrilled by.

The rest of M's day was slow but difficult, but he managed well enough to leave slightly early, to ensure he had enough time to pick Charlie up as requested. After a quick meal, shower, and a change into fresh clothes which he hoped would be a nice mix between casual and impressive, M left to pick up Charlie with a quick text letting her know he's on his way.

"Thanks, I'll meet you outside!" came the reply. M drove quietly to Charlie's apartment feeling irritated at her beneath his pent-up sexual frustration, annoyed at her slightly entitled behavior but intrigued by whatever she had in store for the evening. M knew he could just say no and break things off any time he liked, but after a month spent getting to know Charlie and a week in chastity for her, he had already invested far too much in her to end a potentially good thing over a slight annoyance.

Or maybe it was his horniness muddling his mind, causing him to overlook yellow flags he wouldn't if he had a clearer mind. M wasn't quite able to tell, but for the moment he had little choice but to struggle against the unsurety and frustration, guarding against rash action on either side of the spectrum, and let things take their natural course with hopefully a positive resolution. Regardless, he soon found himself pulling into the parking lot of Charlie's apartment complex, and parking outside her unit, texted her to let her know.

Soon after, Charlie came out the door, wearing a crop top T-shirt, high-waisted leggings, and a pair of sneakers. Her auburn hair was tied into a loose bun, her makeup casual but slightly sultry, and dangling earrings dangled from her ears. She smiled, waving at M as her breasts and thighs jiggled, walking briskly to his car. M thought she looked more like she was about to go to the gym than a house party, and the thought of this evening being a more elaborate, scandalous, affair vanished from his mind.

Still, the sight of her, the movement of her body, and the occasional glimpse of skin beneath her crop top, set M's body alight with arousal. For not having spoken to her or seen her for a week, her presence was both intoxicatingly welcome and frustrating. His lack of sexual release for an entire week reasserted itself with a force M hadn't expected, and his mind fogged briefly as his cock strained against the cage; he felt the precum leaking from his restrained privates, leaving a warm and slimy mess of his underwear.

M tried to force the feeling aside, focusing on his rapidly dwindling annoyance at Charlie's behavior, to keep an even keel and retain his better judgment. He waved weakly back at her, feeling conflicted and self-conscious, as she walked up to his car and opened the door. He smelled the floral, but slightly musky, scent of her perfume as she sat in the passenger seat and shut the car door.

"Hey you," Charlie said, smiling, as she leaned over, putting her hand on M's shoulder possessively, pushing down slightly and kissing his cheek before M could turn his head and meet her lips with his own. He felt the warmth of her presence and softness of her skin, and her presence drove him even further into the fogginess of restrained and denied arousal. Before he could speak, Charlie continued. "I'm so glad you're coming with me, I told my friends about you and I can't wait for you to meet each other!"

M hesitated for a moment, not quite sure how to respond and taken by surprise, Charlie's subtle mixed signals and his own lack of sureity confusing him in his arousal. She either must have intuited his state of mind, or it was of her planning all along, because without a moment's hesitation she smiled mischievously and said, "So, how was your week?"

M cleared his throat, not quite sure how to start. His confined, oozing cock a constant reminder of how his week had really been, he chose to lead instead with a short and vague description of his work week and day-to-day activities, deliberately avoiding the topic of his "test" and its consequences, least of all, for that discussing his arousal and denial would simply drive him further into it. Charlie listened intently, maintaining her mischievous smile the entire time, and M found his focus shifting from his current predicament to his conversation with her.

Once he finished telling Charlie about his week, she quickly pivoted the conversation by giving him her friend's address. M restarted his car and begun to drive, as Charlie begun a detailed, entirely mundane, description of her own week between offering directions. M grew to realize the level of control Charlie had over the conversation, but as his attention was split between listening to her and driving, the rising sexual tension and low level of arousal he felt fell completely by the wayside. It was a feeling unlike anything he had really experienced before, and he was confused and excited by it.

Charlie finished her story, and heavy, sexually tense, quiet filled the car. M suddenly felt self-conscious and exposed; it seemed for the moment the only thing left to discuss was his "situation," and he both dreaded and anticipated the moment it would come up. He glanced over at her for the briefest of moments, and noticed she was sitting sideways in her seat, looking him up and down with that same mischievous smile, toying with an earring. It was almost as if she reveled in his discomfort, and was trying to decide for herself to address the elephant in the room or pivot the conversation.

M shifted in his seat, and his cock shifted slightly inside the warm and slimy cage, another needless reminder of it and the mess inside his underwear. He half-groaned, half-moaned in arousal and frustration, and feeling even more self-conscious, cleared his throat to play it off and preserve some dignity. He heard Charlie stifle a giggle, and opened his mouth to break the tension and distract from what just happened, but Charlie beat him to the punch.

"So," Charlie said, again taking control of the conversation, "my friends know I'm kinky, but most of them aren't. Casual and vanilla tonight, okay?"

M nodded, unsure whether to feel relieved or frustrated by the sudden pivot, and certainly relieved the party would be nothing outside the norm. "Okay," he said. He repeated her words for reassurance, "Vanilla and casual." She leaned over and placed her hand on his thigh, squeezing it gently, her first contact with him since kissing his cheek. Her touch was electric, and M felt his body tense; his cock strained against the cage, and M pursed his lips to not embarrass himself with another sudden, reflexive vocalization.

Charlie laughed audibly at his reaction, a noise that felt like a slap to the face for M, leaving him even more frustrated and self-conscious. He was desperate to admit how deprived and horny he was, and how badly he really wanted clarity...and release. Even an overt acknowledgment from her about his current situation would be enough, a crack in the sexual tension and frustration that had built up in him over the past week.

But, something about the way Charlie controlled the conversation, and acted with seeming deliberation over his current circumstances, prevented M from finding the words he needed to express his desire. She was in complete control over everything currently happening; M discovered he genuinely didn't need to say a word and to simply trust Charlie's intuition. That brief moment of discovery somehow calmed and excited M at the same time; excited for being controlled so seemingly effortlessly, calmed for not needing to assert his own desires in the moment as they were already known and accounted for.

M felt his muscles relax, and he parted his lips to inhale deeply and exhale with a gentle sigh. He stretched his fingers on the steering wheel, and gripped it again with a much gentler touch. He reveled in Charlie's gentle but firm touch, feeling his frustration and confusion slip away, focusing on the road instead.

"That's right, let it go..." Charlie said, softly.

M realized in retrospect, there had been a power struggle from the moment Charlie stepped outside her apartment door. One of which M wasn't even conscious, until now. Was it the look on his face or the way he waved to her, that tipped her off he was annoyed with her? His body language? His reservation in telling her about his week, withholding commentary about his experiences in chastity and sexual frustration?

Did she anticipate it, or did she actually plan for it to happen? How much of this was deliberate on her part? Or was this all in M's head? Did any of it even matter?

No, was M's conclusion. If there was a power struggle between the two, Charlie won long before it ever begun. If it was all in his head, all it took to break through was a touch and the right words at the right time. What, if anything, that came before this moment was in the past, and the path forward was for M to simply concede. M felt the bliss of submitting to Charlie flood his mind, and he breathed deeply and smiled.

"Good boy," Charlie said, and while M had heard those words spoken to him during play in the past, they were never quite like this. The validation of those words in this moment were nearly enough to bring M to tears, and they almost certainly would have if it wasn't for M's split attention. M drew another deep breath, and confident there were no other elephants in the room to discuss, drove the rest of the way to the party with only Charlie's directions breaking the now-comfortable silence.

"Just park here, we can walk the rest of the way," Charlie's last instructions broke M out of his blissful headspace. M had driven the two of them to an above middle-class suburb, the kind filled by labyrinthine roads named after trees, near-identical boxy houses financed by hedge funds and built by lowest bidders, and oppressive homeowners associations. M could never imagine living in a place like this to save his life, too much on pretense and too little on character, but he could imagine the allure to the average prospective homeowner. It wasn't the type of venue M expected when Charlie told him she was taking him to a party, but then, nothing had gone the way he expected since then.

He parallel parked on the street, they got out of the car, and Charlie led him down the sidewalk to one of those near-identical houses. M could hear music coming from the home faintly as its windows were open and muted chatter of voices, and instantly recognized this definitely would not be a wild party, but a more mute and intimate affair. He felt a twinge of nervousness at meeting Charlie's friends; who were they? from where did she know them? if they knew Charlie was kinky, what did they know about him?

M barely had a choice but to follow Charlie and find out.

They approached the door, and Charlie rang the doorbell. Shortly after, a tall and skinny brunette woman wearing a tank top and flowing skirt that descended past her knees, with bare feet that were neatly pedicured and painted, opened the door. Her straight hair fell just below her neckline, and she had piercing green eyes lit with a playful, inquisitive light. As soon as she saw Charlie, she smiled brightly and the two embraced with a kiss on the cheek.

A brief greeting and a moment of small talk that left M feeling slightly excluded later, the green-eyed woman looked M up and down with a smile. M felt diminished somehow, wondering what if anything Charlie had told her or how much she knew about Charlie. He felt as if the woman's eyes lingered on his crotch, making him wonder if she knew about his cage or if she had sneaked a peek at all. M struggled past his moment, hoping he hadn't overtly displayed his self-consciousness, and smiled back at her.

"You must be Charlie's new friend. I'm Vic," the green-eyed woman said, extending her hand to M while glancing over to Charlie. M took her hand, shaking it gently and introducing himself, trying to not feel overwhelmingly self-conscious. He found it hard to look her in the eyes, not knowing what Vic knew, and she broke the handshake with a smile and gesture towards the door.

"Come in!" Vic said, holding the door open for Charlie and M. They stepped in, and shutting the door behind them, Vic informed them drinks and refreshments were in the kitchen, before offering M a round of introductions and tour of her home.

Charlie squeezed M's shoulder, and smiling at him, said, "Go on ahead, I'm going to get us a couple drinks. I'll be along in a moment." M nodded, thinking nothing of it, and followed Vic around her home. Vic explained she is a specialist at Charlie's clinic, and most of the people at the party – some twenty or thirty – were either coworkers or business associates, along with some of Vic's and her husband's friends. The next few minutes were a blur of names and faces, most of which M was not likely to see again anyhow, along with the handshakes and small talk that came with it.

M felt distinctly out of his element at a party full of business professionals whose fields had nothing in common with his own, and the question of who knew Charlie, or knew what about her, never completely left his mind. He tried keeping up with much of the conversation going on around him, but much of it was over his head or involved people and places he didn't know, which again left him feeling diminished and excluded.

As Vic showed M around her home, M found himself slightly impressed by its tasteful decor and size. Her home had a large family room and joined kitchen area where most of the partygoers were, a smaller parlor room where the furniture was clearly more for decor than comfort, a deck in the backyard with a hot tub and a privacy fence, and a bathroom while its several bed and guest rooms, and master bathroom, were upstairs. As Vic led M to the kitchen, Charlie joined the two of them again with a kiss on M's cheek, handing him a glass of white wine.

"Here," she said, "I know you're driving, but at least have one drink." M nodded, thanking Charlie, taking a sip. It was dryer than M's usual taste, and while M was no sommelier, he could tell it was a quality wine. Charlie took the lead, asking M to follow her while she introduced the two of them together to those at the party she did know.

M largely went through the motions, taking time to exchange small talk and obligatory questions about himself, how Charlie and he met, and how long they had been seeing each other. Thankfully Charlie took the lead on more probing questions, answering with clearly well-rehearsed answers deftly avoiding they had met on a kink dating site, and that M was her submissive. For all M's years in kink, he had never been in a social environment in which his lifestyle had to stay either unsaid, or discretely acknowledged with a wink and smile, and he was thankful for Charlie's wit and experience.

But, M did notice Charlie's answers changed with two of her friends, and smiles and nods were exchanged. One was a tall and skinny blond woman with a model-like face named Sam who wore a necklace M immediately recognized as a day collar, and the other was an average-sized but muscular man named Brian whose tattooed biceps and pectorals fought to break the confines of his polo shirt. These, M supposed, were the minority of friends Charlie mentioned were kinky, or at least more open and accepting of her lifestyle.

It was all very subtle and the language very coded in this atmosphere, and M felt a thrill at being in on a big secret, even if he felt self-conscious. In any case, M felt an immediate sense of relief and companionship with both Sam and Brian, as in the unfamiliar and uncomfortable environment of what felt more like a company social than a house party, the common thread of an unacknowledged interest in kink was at least something.

After Charlie's round of introductions, the party began to settle into smaller groups of people having conversations among themselves as engagements like this usually do. Charlie and M joined Vic and her husband, having a conversation with others in their living room. She sat on the couch, subtly pointing next to her as an order for M to sit. M felt a sudden rush of excitement and humbleness at the order in front of these people, however subtle it was.

M sat, thankful for the chastity cage for once, as he felt his privates awaken once again at having received an order. An erection here and now would have been humiliating and socially devastating, for both of them; as it was, M felt acutely self-aware of his genitals struggling against the confinement and felt a thrilling and humbling sense of shame. Charlie had either anticipated his reaction or noticed it as he sat, or perhaps not at all and simply wanted the contact, and reached out to hold his hand, intertwining her fingers with his as the two of them sat together, leaning into him.

Charlie joined the conversation, but M was unable to follow completely, joining in with the occasional comment as he could. He was simply too aroused, and feeling self-conscious about his arousal, to keep track. M likely would have been bored by the conversation regardless, as the portions of it he was able to track were about topics he had no experience with, or about events and people he didn't know. Occasionally Charlie would break contact with him long enough to check her phone and send a message or two, and M felt less like a participant in the party and more like a living, breathing, adornment.

Beyond frustration at the feeling, M could not tell if he was humiliated or turned on it by it. Maybe both. As the conversation wore on and M begun to feel desensitized to his sense of exclusion and objectification, Charlie handed M her glass and said, "Get me another glass of wine, please?"

Of course, the "Please" at the end of the sentence was just a formality to maintain appearances. It was, unquestionably, an order. The order to get Charlie more wine renewed M's sense of exclusion and humiliation, and his cock once again reawoke to strain against the cage. M nodded and said, "Sure," thankful for the opportunity to briefly separate himself from a conversation he couldn't follow anyway.

Vic stood and said, "Charlie, he doesn't know where the wine is. I'll help him – does anyone else want more while we're up?" Vic collected the glasses of those who did, and walked with M across the living room and into the kitchen, which was mercifully empty for the moment as it seemed many of the other partygoers had migrated onto the deck for fresh air.

Vic walked around the island in her kitchen, opening the refrigerator door. From the other side of it, M heard Vic ask, "Is this your first time being out like this?"

M wasn't entirely sure how to reply. That could mean so many things – at a party like this, out with Charlie, out as a submissive in a totally vanilla environment. He settled on a noncommittal "Yes," being unsure what Vic meant or what she knew. At least it had the merit of being true on most possible accounts.

Vic shut the refrigerator door, holding a bottle of wine and smiling at him. "Well, you're doing great," she replied. "Charlie's really impressed by you so far, I can tell." As Vic opened a drawer and retrieved a corkscrew, M couldn't help but ask, "How much has she told you about me?"

"Enough," Vic said with a wry smile, handing the bottle and corkscrew to M. He had no idea what to think of the answer, and started uncorking the bottle as he considered it. Deciding to change the subject a bit, M asked instead, "So, are you..."

"Into BDSM?" Vic asked. "No. David and I are into wife-sharing and swaps, though." M couldn't help but imagine Vic at a swinger club having the time of her life, maybe even with him, and felt another thrill of arousal at the idea. He remembered he was here with Charlie quickly, and pushed the thought aside with a healthy dose of shame. He lowered his eyes and focused his attention on removing the cork, which came out with a satisfying pop in short order.

Feeling Vic's eyes on him, and knowing she expected some form of reply, M asked awkwardly, "Nice. So, any advice for me, with Charlie?" Vic leaned over the kitchen island, placing her hand over M's as he held the bottle. M could see down the front of her tank top, noticing that she wasn't wearing a bra; M averted his eyes, feeling more self-conscious in his arousal than ever. Vic took the bottle from him, and began pouring the glasses of wine.

"Sure," Vic said. "Whatever happens tonight, remember you can always say no and leave. Charlie won't think less of you for it, but it does mean your situation won't continue. So, think things through, and don't act too rash." M swallowed, getting a bad feeling in his stomach.

"She's planning something?" M asked. "Did she tell you what it is? What's going on?"

Vic considered her next words, continuing to pour. She looked at M and answered honestly, "I can tell when she's really into someone, and she's into you. She's definitely thinking about...something. But, I'm not going to get in the way. It's really down to whether you're right for her, if something does happen."

Vic's answer was no comfort; if anything, it made the feeling in M's gut worse. Part of him wanted to leave, then and there, but another part of him remembered what happened in the car, and to trust Charlie with control. M didn't for a moment believe Charlie would do anything to deliberately hurt him, but on the other hand, Charlie's "tests" were growing old.

The cage on M's cock suddenly felt heavier and smaller than it had at any point in the past week; while it was, according to Charlie, proof of her interest in him, it and its impact on his life the past week fogged his mind and clouded his judgment. Was he going along with this because he really liked and trusted Charlie, or was he just horny? Was his horniness facilitating this leap of faith which he was growingly unwilling to take?

Vic's hand on his, squeezing it warmly, brought M out of his headspace. Vic must have noticed his discomfort, as she smiled at him and said, "You're worrying too much. Just let things take their natural course, and if you two are right for each other, it will happen. If she didn't think it was a real possibility, you wouldn't be here."

This answer was more comforting for M, and he nodded, smiling back at the woman. Vic handed him two of the wine glasses, and they returned to the living room where the conversation continued. M handed Charlie her glass of wine, sitting back down next to her; Charlie checked her phone again and sent a message, before reaching out to hold his hand again. M tried to push his trepidation aside and enjoy the moment, but couldn't move past his concern what – if anything – might happen tonight, which Vic warned him about.

The conversation continued for some time. M followed along as best he could, struggling against his growing doubts, and Vic's warning and advice. Charlie's second glass of wine turned into a third, and M's frustration at his sense of exclusion slowly built. After finishing her third glass of wine, Charlie leaned over and kissed M on the cheek, whispering into his ear, "I'm sorry you're so bored. We'll leave soon, okay?"

M nodded, withholding his true feelings. She squeezed his hand to reassure him with a supportive smile, before disengaging to check her phone. After a moment, she sat up, announcing to everyone in the conversation, "I'll be back in a minute," before leaving the living room and walking around the corner towards the bathroom.

M thought little of it; after three glasses of wine, naturally, Charlie would need to pee. At least, he didn't until long minutes passed – far longer than would have been necessary just to pee – and he noticed Vic watching him from the corner of her eyes, tinged slightly with inquisitiveness and concern. Something about the look on Vic's face set M alight with anxiety, and he shifted uncomfortably on the couch, hoping Charlie would come back soon.

More long minutes went by, and M's anxiety and discomfort grew to a point he could no longer take it. He got up and walked away, excusing himself by saying he wanted some water and fresh air, feeling Vic's gaze on him. He went to the downstairs bathroom, and seeing the door open and the lights off, knew Charlie wasn't there. M thought, maybe Charlie went upstairs to the master bath and slowly walked up the stairs, his anxiety growing with each step.

The hallway upstairs was lit with overhead lighting, the door to the master bath open and its lights off. M realized Charlie hadn't gone to the bathroom at all, but where was she? He briefly wondered if Charlie ditched him, taking a rideshare or leaving with someone else, and felt a twinge of fear and anger. Then, he heard something from one of the darkened guest bedrooms, its door slightly open; he couldn't be sure what it was, but it sounded like a bed shifting and a groan.

M's heart leapt to his chest, and he felt a cold tightness in his stomach. Maybe the wine went too quickly to Charlie's head, and she needed a moment to lie down. Maybe it wasn't Charlie at all, and he'd just missed her on her way back from the bathroom. Whatever the case, he had to find out, and he crept to the door to listen.

On the other side, he heard another, unmistakably masculine, groan and wet slurping sounds. Muted, feminine, moaning and the sound of the bed shifting. A wet popping sound and a throaty laugh, and then, "You're leaking so muc –.I love it."

Charlie's voice. Sultry and breathy with a slight moaning tone, unlike anything M had heard from her yet. M stood on the other side of the door, feeling a sudden tightness in his chest, paralyzed by the shock and crushing despair of the moment.

"I've been saving up just for you," the man Charlie was with replied, his voice husky and dominant. M recognized the voice as Brian's, and immediately pictured in his mind what must be happening on the other side of the door. Was Charlie on her knees in front of him, or were they on the bed together? Were they both naked? What was Brian's cock like, and how much was Charlie loving the act of sucking him?

M's shock and despair turned to an intense flash of anger, as he heard the wet sucking noises and Charlie's muffled moans resume. Every nerve in M's body was aflame, in humiliation and mental anguish, and the tightness in his chest grew almost painful as M's head started to spin. He wanted nothing more than to burst through the door, yelling at her, asking how Charlie could do this – have M bring her to a party, leave him feeling excluded the entire evening, and go so far as to blow another man. He wanted to know if Charlie cared for him at all, or if he was just some plaything to abuse and humiliate at will, consequences be damned.

He wanted to humiliate Charlie, show everyone at the party what she was really like; he wanted her to feel the hurt he felt himself. But, something stopped him.

Instead, M crept closer and sneaked a peek through the crack in the guest bedroom door. However, M felt in the moment – pained, humiliated, dizzy, and half sick to his stomach – he had to see for himself, even though he knew he wouldn't like what he would see. He had to know for sure.

All it took was a brief glimpse to know. M saw Brian lying naked atop the bed, covers thrown to one side. Charlie was also naked on her hands and knees over him, facing away from the door. M saw her head slowly bob over Brian's crotch, her breasts swaying from side to side, one hand between his legs, massaging his balls and the base of his shaft. Charlie's bare ass was plainly visible, but her pussy was obscured by Brian's hand as he fingered it.

M stepped back, one hand moving to his face to muffle any noise he might make, and in case he felt the need to vomit from the growing churning of his stomach having seen his date sucking another man's cock. M fought the urge to scream, tears welling up in his eyes from the pain and humility of the moment, and his head spun even faster as his entire body tingled from the waves of overstimulation.

"Just like that...oh, fuck," Brian groaned audibly as M heard the bed shift violently. He heard Charlie's muffled laughter, as the bed continued shifting. Brian gasped out, "Don't do that thing with your tongue unless you wanna make me cum."

Another wet popping sound, and M heard Charlie respond with a playful laugh, "if you've been saving up, you have enough for my mouth and pussy tonight." More sucking noises, followed by Brian's urgent groans and the sound of thrashing on the bed.

M heard enough. Pain, humiliation, and anger transformed almost instantly into panic. He had to get out of here, he had to do something. What, M didn't know, as long as it was away from here.

Walking quickly away from the door and down the stairs, M started to make for Vic's front door. He had every intent of walking right out, going straight home, and forgetting all about tonight and Charlie. His hand reached for the door, his heart throbbing in his chest and his head spinning, and...he stopped.

He realized, through the haze of his spinning head, the rapid and heavy heartbeats, and the queasiness in his stomach, he was aroused. Intensely, maddeningly, so. His pelvic muscles clenching, his balls heavy and full pull taut against the ring of the chastity cage, and his cock fighting desperately to break free of its confines, leaking profusely into his underwear.

He couldn't get the image of Charlie, naked on the bed, orally servicing Brian out of his mind. Her sultry moans and laughs, and those eager sucking noises. The vocal sound of his pleasure, Charlie's hungry mouth wrapped around his cock. The sight of his fingers sliding between her pussy lips and rubbing her clit.

He didn't want to leave. He wanted to go back upstairs and see more? He had to. But more than anything, he wanted to rip the damned cage on his cock off and unleash his pent-up sexual frustration, humiliation, anger, shame, confusion, and pain in a torrent of rapid, unrelenting, self-pleasure.

Did Brian cum yet? Did she swallow every last drop? Or, did she decide she didn't want his load inside her mouth, and decided instead to take it inside her pussy, in a flurry of hot, sweaty, animalistic rutting? If M just turned around and walked upstairs right now, he could find out.

No. M was too afraid what he would see. It hurt enough watching Charlie suck Brian's cock to see her face twisted in orgasmic pleasure, moaning and gasping, as Brian thrust atop her pushing her to intense orgasms M could probably never replicate on his wildest days; it would be too much. M already could barely tell where he was, how he felt; his mouth and throat already felt impossibly dry, his chest tight and finding it hard to breathe, and he already felt like he might throw up from the shock and pain of the moment.

The only thing that he knew for sure right now, was he was the most turned on he had ever been in his life. Every nerve in his body was on fire, alight with raw, sexual energy – with no outlet. His entire body felt tingly and more alive than it had ever felt, every moment an eternity of unmitigated need for sexual release.

What scared M most, beyond the pain and humiliation that his date was upstairs fucking around with another man, was this felt really, really good. Beyond the sensual mixtures of pain and pleasure he felt with other dominants, engaged in play that now felt impossibly vanilla and a lifetime ago. Beyond subspace. The whiplash between so many extreme emotions and feelings, mixing together in a tidal wave of overstimulation that left him desperate for any emotional footing he could possibly get.

M knew if he walked upstairs and saw Charlie cum on Brian's cock, it would push him over the edge and cause him to cum also, right then and there, in his cage. No – that couldn't happen. It wouldn't. Was it because M was afraid what it would mean, or was it because Charlie hadn't given him permission?

M needed to calm the fuck down, and think about this – somehow. He walked to the downstairs bathroom and shut the door behind him. He turned on the faucet, splashing his face with cold water. When he closed his eyes, he saw in his mind Charlie laying on that bed, her legs spread, Brian between them thrusting as Charlie gasped and moaned, begging him to fuck harder.

M opened his eyes and shook his head. He looked himself in the mirror, seeing an alien and unfamiliar face he barely recognized as his own. He said to himself, "Stop. Just stop. Get ahold of yourself," and he already knew his advice to himself would go ignored. He splashed more water on his face, and this time when he closed his eyes he saw Charlie being fucked doggy style, looking M straight in the eyes and taunting him he would never fuck her this good.

The cold, hard shock of anxiety and fear shook through his body again, and the waves of nausea and heartache returned. M hyperventilated, and for a moment it really did feel like M would throw up. But the feeling passed, and M took a handful of cold water to wash his mouth out, spitting the water into the sink.

M started to sit down on the toilet, to bury his face in his hands and try to think. He gasped when the cage pushed against his abdomen, forcing out what felt like a miniature ejaculation's worth of precum. It reminded him, once again, he had not cum in a week, and made him realize the tortuously full feeling just behind his bladder, multiplied by orders of magnitude in his current state of unfulfilled, intense, arousal.

With a halting breath, M opened the toilet lid, undid his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down around his ankles. There before his eyes, in a slimy, sticky, mess of precum, was the physical evidence his arousal wasn't all in his head. Nearly the entire front of his underwear was soaked through from his own lubrication; his cage and the sensitive skin underneath glistened. Thick ribbons of precum hung between his balls and the cage, and a slow drip of slimy fluid hung from the head of his cock.

M reflexively clenched his pelvic muscles, gasping at the volume of his emission without ever having cum, and thick gobbets of clear sexual fluid dripped out of him, landing in the toilet. He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, trying to make sense out of how his experiences possibly had this effect on him. He should be well down the road by now, away from this ridiculous McMansion, cursing himself for being so stupid to think someone like Charlie would be interested in him.

M grabbed a wad of toilet paper, and tried cleaning himself up. At least it was something to do, to take his mind off Charlie upstairs. Surely they were fucking by now, if they weren't already. Brian definitely looked the sort to not need much time between rounds, if Charlie went ahead and sucked his first load out of him. Even if he did need some time between rounds, he was probably holding her down to eat her pussy while she moaned and thrashed on the bed.

Another wave of intense anxiety and fear, followed by equally intense arousal. "No," M thought to himself, "this is insane. I can't be thinking about this." Yet, he was anyway. This was the most torturous thing M had ever experienced, emotionally or sexually. M was really beginning to like Charlie, too – is this her fucked up, twisted, psychosexually dramatic way of rejecting him?

All M wanted was to cum, and cum hard. It would clear his head –maybe. He at least wouldn't be so damn turned on by this any more. All he had to do was just break the plastic lock and take the cage off, but she'd know.

Why did M even care what Charlie thought, at this point? She's upstairs fucking some dude. If she cared, she'd be upstairs fucking him instead, right? It's not like he'd cum almost instantly having gone without for a week, leaving her completely unsatisfied.

M wanted to scream, just to give voice to his frustration, shame, fear, hurt, arousal, and self-loathing in the moment. But he wouldn't, not here. Not at a damn party he wasn't even personally invited to. M took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm his nerves, and walked back to the living room and sit on the couch.

Almost as soon as he sat, he heard it. Thump...thump...unmistakably the sound of a bed bumping against a wall. M remembered the layout of the bedrooms upstairs and realized the bedroom Charlie was in was directly above him. M looked around, and no one else seemed to hear, or if they did, they were paying no attention.

M didn't understand how; to him, it was the loudest sound in the room, above the din of laughter and conversation, above the soft music playing in the background. Charlie and Brian may as well be setting off mortars outside, that wrote "We're fucking upstairs!" plain as day in the air, for anyone to see. Maybe he was just hyperaware of the noise, or maybe it was in his head.

M occasionally piped into the conversation when prompted, and a few people asked him if he was feeling okay to which he replied, "Yeah." But really, all M could hear was that thumping upstairs, speeding up and slowing down repeatedly over the course of what felt like hours. Despite himself, he tried listening for moans or orgasmic cries, giving him any clue as to what was going on upstairs.

What position were they in? Were they edging? How much was Charlie loving it? Were they using protection? Would she come downstairs with a creamy secret?

Finally, the thumping started becoming even louder and faster, and after a handful of slow, hard, thumps, it stopped. M still couldn't understand how the other partygoers couldn't hear it, or were ignoring it. Was it over? It had to be. How many times did Charlie cum?

By now, M just felt numb. He could no longer tell if he was angry, humiliated, hurt, horny, or just apathetic. He didn't even feel present in his own body. He wasn't sure if he even cared anymore. He just wanted to get out of this situation and go home.

M caught a glimpse of Charlie coming into the room. She was still flushed, breathing a bit heavy, a thin sheen of sweat visible beneath her crop top. She wasn't smiling, but M looked down immediately to avoid her gaze. He couldn't bear to look her in the eyes right now.

She walked over and gave Vic a kiss on the cheek. M wanted to cry out, those lips had just been on another man's cock. She probably still had cum on her breath. But, all M could do was look away and sit, placidly.

"Sorry, Vic. I think I ate something that disagreed with me. I should probably get going," Charlie said. M thought to himself, Brian's cock sure seemed to agree with her at the time. Vic and Charlie exchanged a glance, which M could swear was a knowing glance, and he averted his eyes from Vic as well.

"Sorry to hear that," Vic said, "Do you need anything before you go?"

"No, I took something already," M could swear a bit of a smile crept onto Vic's face at Charlie's reply. Or maybe he was just imagining things. "Oh, don't get up, we can see ourselves out," Charlie continued, gesturing at Vic.

Charlie looked at M, and said, "Let's go." This time, no please; it was a direct order. Charlie must have figured her cover story was enough to slip it into conversation.

All M could muster, was a weak and defeated, "Yeah." He stood, and Charlie said a brief goodbye before they were out the door and on the way back to M's car. M had nothing to say to her; nothing he could imagine saying to her right now. He was afraid to even begin, because he wasn't sure he could control himself if he started speaking now.

Charlie seemed to understand this, and her uncomfortable silence matched his as they got into the car. M had only driven a couple blocks, before Charlie pointed to a secluded side street in the subdivision, and said, "Pull over here and park."

Wondering what could possibly be the issue now, M turned into the side street, slowed the car to a stop, and put it in park. Charlie tentatively reached out for the front of M's pants, watching him intently, apparently for any sign of violent or extreme reaction. M was just too exhausted and numb from the intense emotional whiplash of the evening to put up resistance, and watched her with blank, dull eyes.

Charlie unbuckled M's belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. She pushed them and his underwear down around his thighs, and took the plastic padlock in her hand. Checking the serial number, she broke the padlock and removed it from the cage. Finally, she gripped the cage as best she could with it being as slippery and slimy as it was, and slid it off his cock.

M watched with numb detachment as his cock bounced, limp, from the cage, resting on his balls. It was a reaction he would never have suspected, if he were more mentally and emotionally present; he would have sworn his cock would immediately spring to full hardness once released, but it didn't.

Charlie leaned over, moving the steering wheel upwards with one hand while lowering her head to his lap. He felt her hand cup his balls, her thumb and forefinger wrapping themselves around the base of his soft, exhausted, cock, holding it upwards. He felt hot breath on it, and Charlie's lips wrapped around the sensitive and slick skin of his cockhead.

M gasped and grunted, and came immediately. Charlie hadn't even taken his entire cock in her mouth. He wasn't even hard. He didn't even have enough control over his own body to try holding back.

His own orgasm after a week of buildup and denial wasn't even that satisfying. It was just a cold, empty, release; one final surrender to this woman who put him through seemingly endless mental and emotional anguish tonight. Charlie held M's flaccid cockhead in her mouth, swallowing down each spurt of built-up cum his defeated and numb body pumped into her. Making matters even more humiliating for M, was the knowledge this likely wasn't even the biggest – or first – load Charlie swallowed tonight.

Charlie continued sucking and swallowing for a few moments after M's last orgasmic contractions, taking the last few drops of his cum into her. She gave M's cock a last few licks, licking up the prodigious amount of precum he'd emitted, before sitting back up in her car seat.

Wiping her mouth, Charlie reached out with her other hand to touch M's jaw. She turned his head towards her, and looked him in the eyes as she said the words that could possibly salve M's battered and crushed ego.

"Good boy."