Her eyebrows lifted.
“You really don’t mind?”
He closed the distance between them, cupping her cheek. Her skin was like silk under his calloused palm.
“I don’t mind anything you do to me, Mistress,” he said, holding her gaze, letting her see the truth in his golden eyes. “Didn’t I tell you that you own me? I’m yours. Completely yours.”
Admitting it aloud felt like shedding a weight. It felt good. And the way she up looked at him—not with disgust or mockery, but with a dawning, awed comprehension—made him dare to hope.
Maybe his deepest, most shameful secret—his wish to submit—wasn’t a flaw to her. Maybe it was a gift she was yearning to unwrap. Maybe this dynamic—this perfect symmetry where his need to submit met her desire to dominate— could last beyond this mission.
Maybe—if they took things slowly and didn’t go too far all at once—it could last forever.
With that hopeful thought glowing in his chest, he submitted.
He stood still as she knelt before him. Her fingers were gentle as she guided his cock through the base ring of the cage. The metal was cool—a shocking contrast to his heated flesh—and it was a good thing. Otherwise feeling her hands on him would have made him hard all over again.
“I’m trying to be careful. Let me know if I hurt you,” she murmured as she fitted the hinged cage itself around his shaft—it was a snug, custom fit, leaving no room for growth—and clicked it shut. A tiny, silver lock secured it and the sound of the mechanism engaging was soft, yet final.
A shiver that was not unpleasant ran through him.
He was enclosed.
Helpless.
Hers.
Looking down at her, he could plainly see her full breasts, framed in the silver gown and he could feel her soft fingers stroking his balls as she made sure everything was in the right place. Either or both of those stimulations was enough to make him rock-solid, but the cage kept him from getting hard.
That didn’t make his desire for her any less, however—he still felt a deep need for her touch—a hungry ache to be of service to her. His body just couldn’t act on it. If anything, the cage around his cock enhanced his desire—like a flame that was burning brightly inside him which wasn’t allowed to turn into a bonfire and yet could never be put out.
Kaitlyn held up a small, ornate key on a fine silver chain and, without a word, slipped the chain over her head. The key settled in the valley between her breasts, hidden beneath the silver gown.
The symbolism was so potent it made his heart fist in his chest. She literally held the key to his pleasure…his comfort…his very sexuality, right next to her heart. Letting her cage him was the most profoundly submissive act of his life, and it filled him with a sense of rightness and desire.
“Thank you, Mistress,” he said quietly as he helped her to her feet.
She lifted an eyebrow quizzically.
“You’re thanking me for caging you?”
“I’m thanking you for letting me submit,” he said, and cupped her cheek. “For making me yours.”
She blushed again but he could see the pleasure in her eyes. Yes, he decided, as long as they took things slowly, this could definitely grow into a deeper relationship—maybe she would even let him Bond her to him, in time.
He dressed in the clothes the servant had brought—more of the ridiculous, crotchless trousers in a finer black material—which now framed the silver cage like an obscene exhibit. Then came the thick, black leather collar.
It was wide—padded for comfort—but unyielding, with a heavy metal ring at the front. He started to fasten it around his own neck, but Kaitlyn stopped him.
“No,” she said, taking the collar from his hands. “Kneel.”
Braze did as she asked at once, kneeling before her so she could reach him more easily.
Kaitlyn slipped the collar around his throat and buckled it. Then she attached a long, elegant leash of braided black leather to the ring in front. She took a step back and surveyed him—cage, collar and all—and nodded.
“Perfect. You can rise now…husband.”
Hearing her call him that—even if it wasn’t really true—sent a surge of desire straight through Braze. He murmured,
