Over the next two weeks, Sandra and Jason settled into a new routine together and adjusted easily.
Each morning, Jason woke up full of anticipation. He made breakfast, then went back to wake Sandra gently. She never had to say anything; he would slip into bed, pull back the covers, and kiss her thighs until she guided him to her swollen clit. Some mornings, she let him take his time, enjoying the slow, gentle touch of his tongue until she finished. Other times, she gripped his hair tightly and used his mouth with a firm hold that made him tremble. She would gush out her juices, and she would allow him to lick them up. Sometimes, she turned over and let him please her from behind, which he always enjoyed. She had come to love his tongue in her ass almost as much as he did.
Afterward, she got up, showered, ate a quick breakfast, and kissed him goodbye, leaving him wanting more. She felt more satisfied, mentally and physically, than she ever had. She walked with new energy. Sometimes it seemed like she could still feel his mouth and tongue between her legs all day, or maybe it was just knowing it would happen again when she got home. Her coworkers noticed she seemed more relaxed and smiled more often. Although she had the best won/lost record, her work still improved. When people asked, she said, “I’m in love with a wonderful and caring man.”
Every day began the same. Sandra got what she wanted, and Jason took pleasure in making her happy. He was starting to see that his own pleasure was tied to hers.
After work, she kept teasing him. Sometimes she brushed her hand over his pants as she walked by in the kitchen. Other times, she would quietly say, “You don’t get to cum today, or tomorrow, or the next day,” even if he hadn’t asked. Her outfits around the house were always tight, including those amazing white shorts, and revealed more than she ever could outside. Sometimes, she turned away, bent over a little, and showed him what he could only touch with his mouth, never with his little penis.
Jason was always needy, tense, and full of desire. He frequently left her scent on his face after pleasuring her, wanting to carry it with him all day. He knew it only made his tension worse, but he couldn’t stop.
At night, she always had him please her again, sometimes once, sometimes twice. Sometimes she finished and rolled away, leaving him crouching, gasping, and shaking. When she felt especially in control, she had him lie down so she could sit on his face, making him lick wherever she wanted, sometimes both places. She especially loved that.
He always did what she asked. Now, making her happy made him happy, and she liked giving him that chance. She knew she was driving him mad with desire, and that was exactly what she wanted.
Sometimes, when she got home from work, he couldn’t wait for night. He met her at the door, dropped to his knees, and asked, “Can I please you? Please… right now?” His voice shook with need. She always let him—sometimes guiding his head between her legs before even taking off her coat, letting him lift her skirt and lick her through her often, already wet panties. She especially enjoyed this, maybe because it was another level of control and a way to tease him.
Before long, his eagerness became desperation. His whole body responded to her needs. Even the most devoted person can lose control when desire becomes too strong.
Jason finally gave in. He had no idea it was exactly what Sandra wanted. It occurred on a Tuesday morning.
That morning, she was especially teasing, making him lick her slowly through her panties while he knelt under the breakfast table. She held his head tightly between her thighs, her moans soft and satisfied. She continued to eat breakfast and read the paper, denying herself pleasure until she couldn’t take it anymore. Then she allowed him to make her climax. Afterward, she pushed him away, leaving him naked, trembling, and finished her newspaper and coffee before going to work.
After she was gone, he was left with a painful, throbbing need that wouldn’t go away. By late afternoon, he couldn’t take it anymore. He locked himself in the bathroom and masturbated quickly, almost angrily, wanting to finish before guilt set in. The orgasm felt frantic and empty. As soon as it was over, shame hit him hard. He cleaned up fast, but the guilt stayed with him. He thought for a long time about whether to tell Sandra, but he knew he couldn’t hide it from her or himself.
That night after dinner, he stood across from her, nearly shaking.
“I… I messed up,” he spoke quietly, his face red with shame. “I masturbated in the bathroom this morning. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She stared at him for a long moment, her face unreadable. Then she stood and walked to the bedroom without a word.
He followed, terrified.
“Get the cane,” she said.
His spirit dropped. She had warned him that losing control again would mean a much harsher punishment. His legs shook so much he could barely walk. As he waited at the bedroom door for permission to enter, Jason was filled with anxiety and regret. He was scared, knowing the punishment would hurt. Still, beneath his fear, a variety of emotions churned. He felt confused, struggling to accept that his own desires could be his undoing. The idea scared him; still, deep down, he also felt drawn to this path.
Inside, he experienced both worry and an unusual eagerness. There was a knot in his stomach, a feeling he didn’t fully understand. He feared the pain, but he also dreaded losing the special relationship they shared. His bond with Sandra was different from anything he’d known before, and he held to it, knowing it mattered more than his own comfort.
At the same time, he experienced a strange relief, hoping the punishment would help him make things right. Jason saw a chance to prove his devotion and rebuild the trust he had broken. He felt guilty and sad for letting Sandra down, which made it even harder. But he also knew that deep down, his submission came from a need for inclusion and acceptance. His desires felt out of control, slipping away no matter how hard he tried. Jason realized that both his submission and the pain were part of his growth, and strangely, he found comfort in that.
He knew their relationship was grounded on trust and consent. Even when he felt confused, love pushed him to accept his role and put their relationship above his own comfort. It felt strange, but knowing Sandra found satisfaction in caning him made Jason feel even closer to her. He sensed this was more concerned with than discipline—it was about deepening their connection and her taking control, something he now wanted even more than avoiding pain.
He quietly accepted that facing the consequences might make their relationship stronger, mixing pain with a sense of redemption. He had a small hope, knowing he could still make things right. He caught a deep breath, nodded, and prepared himself, hoping this would help them both move forward.
When he heard her permit to enter, he brought the cane to her with shaking hands. She was wearing skin-tight yoga pants and a low-cut, tight tank top—one of his favorite outfits. Even in trouble, he started to get hard, but he knew the excitement wouldn’t last.
She didn’t speak as she made him lie over the bed, naked and exposed. There were still light purple lines on his skin from his Saturday discipline, and now he would have many more. He was already naked since she had made that permanent several weeks ago. No more panties for now; he had to earn them again. He stayed naked in the house unless told to dress. At first, it was hard for him. The doorbell would ring, and he would go to answer it, only to realize he was completely naked. But he had gotten used to it and accepted that it was what Sandra wanted.
This time, her silence appeared worse than anger. He heard her breathing and realized she was letting the tension build for both of them. He tried to relax, but couldn’t. Even though he couldn’t see her, he pictured her standing there, tapping the cane against her palm. He knew her desire and excitement were building, too.
Then the cane came down.
Once.
Twice.
Ten times.
Twenty.
And still she didn’t stop.
She struck harder than ever before, even more than she had on Saturday. The pain was so intense that he cried out right away, his voice breaking. He tried to stay still but couldn’t. He begged her to stop, sobbing as his shame spilled out with his tears.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped out. “Please… please forgive me. Please… I’m so sorry…”
She paused only long enough to say, in a low, calm voice, “You broke my trust. You are going to remember this for a long, long time. You will think about it the next time you decide to touch your little penis without permission.”
She kept going until his skin was covered in welts from top to bottom. In some spots, the cane even broke the skin a little. His rear was far more than red—it was purple. This was much worse than the brush, the wooden spoon, or both together.
When she finally stopped and set the cane aside, he shook uncontrollably. His skin was red, striped, purple, and swollen, with small spots where it had broken. Tears ran down his face. He had never felt so exposed or humbled, so completely under her control. His skin burned, and nothing could ease the pain.
Sandra paused and watched him. Then her anger abated. She moved over and sat down in a chair. “Come here,” she said, bringing him into a hug. He rested his head on her shoulder while she stroked his back and whispered comforting words. “We’ve been through a lot today, and I want you to know how proud I am of your strength.” Her caress calmed him, and his tension faded. She led him to the bathroom to begin the physical aftercare.
Sandra whispered, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” She held back a gasp when she saw how raw he was up close. Her heart wavered between regret and resolve, mixed with excitement. She didn’t regret being strict, knowing it was what he needed and part of her plan. Still, she worried about the emotional impact. She wanted to break his habit of masturbating and help him accept he couldn’t control it alone, but she also wanted him to feel cared for, even during discipline. If this didn’t work, she was ready to try again, determined to help him change.
She gently applied salve to his welts, careful not to hurt him more. The touch was gentle and caring. With each application, she breathed softly, making sure he experienced both physical and emotional comfort. Jason closed his eyes, feeling truly cared for.
Sandra stayed focused on him, and when she finished, she uttered softly, “I love you, and I’m here for you.” He nodded, feeling comforted and close to her. The pain was still there, but it didn’t matter as much.
The anger was gone, but the excitement lingered. For now, it would have to wait.
Softly, she said, “Do you understand now why some men can’t be trusted with their own pleasure?”
He nodded immediately, desperate. “Yes. Yes, I understand. I can’t control it. I tried. I failed. I know I need… I need something. I need help…”
She waited, barely breathing. This was a turning point.
Then, he broke and whispered the words she had been leading him toward for weeks: “Maybe… maybe you should lock me… You know, with the cage you mentioned. So I can’t mess up.”
Sandra almost jumped for joy. This was the moment she had been working toward, and now he was asking for it himself, and Jason’s willingness to submit charged her with a sense of victory and satisfaction.
For Jason, the moment was knotted with emotion. Relief pulled on him, but so did anxiety and a sense of giving up something he could never recover. He wondered what it would really feel like to hand over control so completely, and if he was choosing this for her happiness, his own peace, or out of desperation. Part of him felt proud to trust Sandra this way; another part worried about sacrificing a part of his own independence. Still, beneath all the apprehension, Jason hoped this was the answer he needed—the thing that would bring them closer and quiet his restless urges.
Sandra knew her desire for control stemmed from past experiences in which she frequently felt powerless. In earlier relationships, she rarely had a voice and often put her needs aside. With Jason, she could reclaim that lost power and finally be in command. She knew he partly wanted the cage to avoid another harsh punishment, but that wouldn’t save him. She wanted him to surrender completely and enjoyed the control she had over him. She would still discipline him, with or without the cage, because she loved being in control and the strong connection it brought. He didn’t realize that yet, and she was fine with that. He also didn’t know that once she locked him up, there would be no turning back. The lock would only come off for maintenance, teasing, denial, or ruined orgasms, nothing else.
Sandra didn’t say yes immediately. She let his whispered plea hang between them, trembling and uncertain, until Jason finally lifted his tear-stained face to meet her eyes. His eyes were pleading with her now. That was what she wanted to see. Only then did she speak.
“You need to understand this is a big step for us. If you require me to cage you, I’ll do it, but the decision is irreversible… You will wear it always.”
He bowed his head, then nodded.
“No,” she said in a soft voice. “I want to hear it. Tell me what you need.”
The words arose slowly, heavy and reluctant, yet he pushed them forth. “I need to be caged.”
“And what else?” she asked.
He sobbed and said, “I realize that this is permanent, and the cage will only come off when you allow it.”
“This is an important step for us, and I want to verify you understand the gravity. You are giving up your right to have a normal climax. Right?”
“Yes…” he said, halting. “I understand that I am giving up my right to a normal climax.”
Sandra knew he didn’t really understand yet. He probably thought she would give in after a few days or weeks, but he was wrong.
“Very well,” she replied, unable to hide a small smile. It had taken weeks, and she was still surprised at how easily she had directed him to this moment, where the words were truly his own.
He swallowed, feeling uncertain but holding on to a sense of relief. When he saw her small smile, his heart expanded. At that moment, he felt it had all been worth it.
“Get a towel and put it on the bed,” she said quietly.
He had an idea what she wanted. He ran to get a towel and spread it on the bed.
“On your back,” Sandra ordered.
Jason jumped onto the bed, eager and ready. This was what he needed, maybe even more than she did. It felt like affirmation. He knew he had made the correct choice. Soon, Sandra straddled him and slowly lowered herself until she was on his face. She moaned when she felt his tongue go to work. She climaxed more than once before she moved forward, giving Jason access between her cheeks. He used his tongue there until she climaxed again.
Sandra climbed off and smiled down at Jason, whose face was covered in her juices now. “I do love your tongue so much. Did I ever tell you that you have the best tongue and mouth of anybody in the world?” she said.
Jason smiled back and said, “No, but it is good to hear you say that. I love using it on you almost as much as you like having it done.”
Before they went to bed, Sandra had Jason pleasure her again with his mouth. He did it just as enthusiastically as he had done earlier. Her plan was working better than she thought it would.
The next morning, Sandra sat at the breakfast table with her laptop while he cleaned the kitchen. She made sure he could see her screen display. As he walked by with a dish towel, he noticed pictures of chastity cages—metal, plastic, silicone, narrow, solid, ventilated, black, silver, pink, and baby blue. She saw him pause and felt quietly pleased.
Later, she called him over. “Come look.”
He stood behind her, heart beating fast, while she browsed through the dozens of models she had bookmarked. She added several to her cart: a soft pink silicone cage, a rigid baby blue one, a tiny model just over an inch, a stainless steel cage with a built-in lock, and finally a tight nub made for long-term denial.
“We’ll start with a few cheap ones,” she said. “But I’ve heard the best cages are custom-made. Once you’re used to being locked, we’ll get one of those. Most cages can be removed pretty easily, though. There are two ways to prevent that. One is a Prince Albert piercing.”
“What’s that?” he asked curiously.
“That’s when the head of your penis is pierced. A ring goes through it and attaches to the base of the cage.”
“Oh my God. You wouldn’t actually do that, would you?” he asked, fear rising in him.
“Only if the regular ones don’t work.” She clicked to another image. “The other option is a cage with a plastic tag and a serial number sealed in place. To remove it, you have to cut the tag. You can’t just put another one on because the number won’t match.”
“Uh… I prefer that kind,” Jason said, exhaling in quivering relief.
Sandra said, “I’m pretty sure I’ll know if you take the cage off. I think I can trust you.” She wasn’t sure she could always trust him, but the threat of the Prince Albert piercing and the cane should be enough.
Sandra ordered the cages without asking for his input.
When the boxes came three days later, she had him bring them into the bedroom and set them on the bed. Sandra opened each one slowly, handling them like new tools. The little pink one made her laugh softly—not in a mocking way, but with real delight.
“Oh my,” she said, turning it in her hand. “This is adorable. You’re going to look so cute in this.”
Jason gulped nervously. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being called “cute,” but the softness in her manner made him want to go along with whatever she wanted.
She lined them up on the bed in order of size.
“Pick one,” she told him. She wanted his total buy-in. It was his idea after all. He didn’t see the devious smirk on her face.
He balked briefly, then pointed to the medium-sized pink one, the three-inch rubber model that appeared the least intimidating. She had said that one was cute, and he wanted to please her.
She nodded, picked it up, and tapped it against her palm. “All right. Let’s put it on.”
The first try was awkward. Jason was already half-hard from excitement, so she made him wait until he softened. He helped this time, but Sandra planned to do it herself in the future. She liked being the one to decide when he could take it off or put it on. She closed the lock, and the subtle click filled the room.
Sandra looked Jason in the eyes as she locked the cage on him. “I want to remind you so you totally understand, this is permanent,” she said. “It’s this cage or another.”
“Uh… well, uh, but, if I can learn to, you know, control myself…” he stuttered, halting when Sandra raised a hand. She expected this.
“And how exactly will that come about?” she inquired, not waiting for an answer. “You know how we arrived here, and I see no path for you to alter that. But let’s set that aside for now. We can explore it in more detail later. For now, let’s get you fitted properly.”
He nodded, though to Jason it felt like she was locking him in a cell. Still, he knew he had brought this on himself. His lack of control had led him here, and he had no one else to blame. He was grateful she was giving him another chance.
Sandra smiled, giving the cage a light tug to gauge its fit. “How does that feel?” she asked.
“Tight, but not unpleasant,” he replied.
“Good,” she said. “I’ve read it takes time, and we might need to try a few before we find the perfect fit. But you’ll get used to it.”
Smiling, Sandra picked up a gold chain from the nightstand. She put the key on it and fastened the necklace. “I’ll be wearing this most of the time now. It will rest close to my heart, a ceaseless reminder that you’re caged and of your sacrifice for me. Your little penis is now mine.”
Jason gulped hard, his features paling slightly. “You’re… you’re going to wear it, you know, over your clothes?” he asked. He was worried about who might see it.
“Well, it depends on what I’m wearing and if I want others to see it. Most people won’t know what it means. If anyone asks, I’ll say it’s the key to my husband’s heart… or definitely his hard-on,” she added with a laugh.
Jason smiled despite everything. Still, he wasn’t sure if he should feel pleased or nervous about her wearing the key. Some people, maybe even at her work, might understand what it meant. But he liked the idea of her wanting to keep the key close to her heart.
Sandra took the second key and put it in an envelope. She said, “I’m putting it in the safe in case you need it when I am not around. Most of the time, I will take it off and put it on you, unless I am not around for some reason.”
Jason nodded.
Getting used to the cage was hard for Jason. It felt strange. Sandra’s rule that he stay naked in the house helped a little. For now, it seemed fair. At least he didn’t have to deal with clothes, especially jeans, though he knew that would change soon.
She liked seeing him naked and in the cage, and she enjoyed the feel of the key around her neck, knowing she controlled his pleasure. She had taken his pleasure away from his penis and was about to make that clear. From now on, his pleasure would come from pleasing her, through his obedience and with his mouth.
The next several weeks were tough. At night, he often woke up with spontaneous erections. He did his best to calm them, but sometimes it took a while. The cage pinched at odd times and tightened when he sat, especially if he crossed his legs. Work became difficult, and worst of all, every thought of her turned into a throbbing ache he couldn’t do anything about.
The idea had so captivated Sandra that she had to use his mouth every night, multiple times. Sometimes she would sit on his face and lean forward to play with his caged penis, watching him try to get hard and failing. She loved to see the flow of pre-cum that always appeared. She had learned that the FLR ladies called them “chastity tears.” It was fitting.
During those weeks, Sandra watched him closely, pretending to be sympathetic when he winced or let out a soft moan. Inside, she enjoyed every moment, seeing it as proof of her growing power and their changing relationship. It wasn’t just fun; it made her happy to see their roles shift. She frequently wondered why being in control felt so natural and what it meant for her own desires. She would ask, ‘How does it feel?’ or say, ‘You look so sweet in that one. I love it,’ not merely for his answer but to confirm what they were building together. She wanted him to know this was their reality and to feel secure in his acceptance of it. For Sandra, the cage was more than a tool of desire; it served as a symbol of trust and a bond that kept them close, both emotionally and physically.
He always said, “It’s fine,” even when it wasn’t. She could see right through him.
Sandra loved the colored cages. The baby blue one made her feel something special—he looked cute, helpless, and pretty in it. But the pink one made her almost giddy. It looked silly and perfect at the same time.
They switched cages every few days to find the best one. Sandra knew it wouldn’t always be the cutest. He needed one that was most comfortable, no matter how it looked. Once they found it, they’d get it custom-made.
Jason blushed deeply as she inspected him, touching the little devices, lifting them gently, and running a finger under the ring to check the fit. The mix of humiliation, exposure, and pride in serving her left him nearly speechless.
When she teased and denied him, she removed the cage, of course, but only for the duration of her teasing. Sometimes she made him kneel while she unlocked it, and then locked him back in before he even had time to stop gasping for air. While he often got close, he never climaxed. She made sure of that. She was anxious for the time when he would accept that he was never going to have a normal climax again. She knew he wasn’t there yet.
She was well on her way to another important part of her plan: pushing his discipline to the edge of what he could handle. The idea sent chills down Sandra’s spine. She didn’t know why she loved disciplining him so much, but most of her FLR friends felt the same. Some evenings, she met with them to share stories over wine. They traded tips, and discipline was always discussed in a positive light. They also talked openly about their relationships, getting strength from each other’s insights. These meetings weren’t merely about sharing discipline techniques—they acted as a source of emotional support that deeply influenced Sandra’s approach. Her friends’ experiences and advice gave her new perspectives, helping her refine her methods and feel more confident in her role. Maybe it was because women hadn’t always had this kind of control, or didn’t realize they could, but things were changing, and this new power was a big part of their lives. Sometimes, after hearing their stories, Sandra imagined what it would be like to invite one or two of her closest friends to witness, or even take part in, a discipline session with Jason. The idea sent a rush of excitement and a trace of concern through her, and she wondered how Jason would respond, how it might affect their relationship, or even deepen his submission. For now, it was only a thought growing quietly inside her, but it was one she suspected she might act on sooner or later.
Sandra imagined how these conversations could grow in the future, maybe turning into workshops or meetings where skills and techniques could be shared more widely. She even thought about involving some of these friends in her and Jason’s journey, finding new ways to shape their relationship. She liked that idea a lot.
Sandra had decided early on that he needed structure, rules, and consequences. The discipline sessions turned into a constant in his life. The bonus was that she always got wet while doing it and needed his mouth.
Over time, the punishments got even harsher as Sandra realized he could handle more than she expected. Sometimes it took Jason days to recover, but he always did. She bought a special balm from her pharmacist to help prevent scarring, thinking his smooth, pale skin was too nice to mark forever.
Sandra was careful with their aftercare routine. After every intense punishment, she took time to comfort and care for Jason. The routine began with a calm moment, during which Sandra would gently apply salve to his welts with soft, deliberate touches that alleviated his pain. As the fingers moved across his skin, each touch excited her, but it was always gentle, showing her deep sensitivity and understanding of his vulnerability. She would pause sometimes, look into his eyes, and wipe his tears away. “You’ve been so strong,” she would tell him, her manner full of comfort, reminding him of the love they shared even in these difficult moments. For Jason, these occasions brought a fragile sense of relief, the sting of discipline replaced by the tenderness of her care. Gratitude combined with lingering vulnerability, and as Sandra held him close, he allowed himself to let go of his shame for a little while. In her arms, he felt safe, treasured, and unexpectedly whole in his submission.
For Jason, these instances mattered. At first, he struggled with his feelings of submission and discipline, seeing them as signs of weakness. But as Sandra cradled him, he found comfort not only in her physical care but in the emotional safety she gave him. Over time, his view changed, and he realized that what he once saw as vulnerability was actually a source of resilience and commitment. Her reassurances helped heal both his body and the emotional pain he felt after discipline. Lying in her arms, Jason felt calm and safe, his trust in Sandra growing with each tender touch. Even without words, he sensed her steady support, which helped heal the invisible bruises left by guilt and shame. He started to see discipline not as something to fear, but as a means to grow, improve, and build a closer bond with Sandra. In this vulnerability, he felt most attached to her, realizing that every act of care strengthened their relationship. As he accepted these feelings, Jason’s submission became a proud sign of love and trust.
To Be Continued