Fiction: Under Lock and Key (Part 3) (FM/M)

 [Continued from Part 2]

When Lori and Peter arrived home from the mall, Lori carried several large, stylish bags containing her purchases: a pair of killer heels, the slinky black dress she’d picked out, a set of black lacy lingerie, and a new bottle of perfume. Peter followed behind, his face still slightly flushed, holding a small, dainty bag filled with the panties they’d selected for him at the boutique—a delicate reminder of the day’s lesson.

As they stepped into the house, Lori turned to him, her voice calm but authoritative. “Peter,” she said, giving him a pointed look, “go upstairs, put those new panties of yours away neatly, and then come join me in my room. I’ll be getting ready for my date tonight, and you’ll be watching as I prepare.”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat, feeling a mix of emotions at her instructions. He nodded, clutching the small bag tightly as he made his way upstairs to his room. Once inside, he opened his drawer, placing each pair of delicate panties inside with a sense of finality, knowing they would be his new daily attire. As he did this, he felt an unexpected surge of arousal rising, but it was quickly met with the unforgiving reality of the cage he wore. The soft, lacy fabrics in his hands, meant to be symbols of his punishment, sparked an undeniable reaction that brought both shame and discomfort. His body’s natural response clashed painfully with the metal constraints, and each throb only served to intensify the ache.

The sensation created a conflicting mix of desire and dread. The more he tried to push the feelings away, the more his mind fixated on the softness of the fabric, the scent of the boutique still faintly clinging to them, and the humiliating knowledge that these were now his to wear. Each pulse of pain forced him to confront the reality of his punishment, a harsh form of aversion therapy that drilled into him the consequences of his actions.

As he finished placing the last pair into the drawer, his heart raced with anxiety and shame, the dull ache in his cage an ever-present reminder of the boundaries Lori had set. When he closed the drawer and stood up, he took a moment to compose himself, feeling almost dizzy from the sensations of arousal and discomfort intertwined. His hand lingered over the small bulge, his face flushing as he realized the full depth of his submission.

With a deep breath, he steeled himself and made his way to Lori’s room, the lingering pain forcing him to walk slowly, every step a lesson in obedience and restraint. The sounds of her preparing for her date drifted out to him—a reminder of the world she was a part of, where confidence and allure came naturally, while he was left humbled, trapped, and painfully aware of his place.

When he reached the door, he found Lori already setting out her things with care—a pair of sleek, black heels, the slinky black dress draped across the bed, and the lace lingerie she had chosen, all arranged neatly. The bottle of perfume sat on her vanity, adding a touch of elegance to the scene.

Lori glanced up at him with a knowing smile, gesturing for him to come closer. “Tonight, you’ll watch as I get ready,” she said smoothly, her voice carrying both instruction and a sense of satisfaction. “Consider it another reminder of everything you’ll respect—and never touch again.”

Lori motioned for Peter to sit on the edge of her bed, her tone calm but undeniably commanding. “Take a seat right there,” she instructed, gesturing to a spot with a slight smile that was equal parts stern and satisfied. Peter obeyed, perching himself on the side of the bed, feeling the weight of the day’s events settle over him once more.

With deliberate care, Lori began to undress, unfastening her top and slipping it from her shoulders, removing her skirt, and finally her bra and panties revealing the elegant lines of her naked figure in the soft lighting of her bedroom. Peter’s cheeks flushed as he watched, utterly aware of her authority and his own helplessness. She moved gracefully as she removed each item with precision, casting a quick glance toward him to make sure he was absorbing every moment.

Once she’d finished undressing, Lori sauntered into the ensuite bathroom, leaving the door wide open behind her. She let the water run for a moment, then stepped into the shower, positioning herself within clear view of the open doorway. Peter’s gaze was drawn, despite himself, as she began to soap herself, her movements unhurried as she lathered her skin under the warm stream of water.

As he watched, a mix of emotions washed over him—a confusing blend of longing, shame, and frustration. He felt a stirring that, under normal circumstances, he might have been able to ignore, but the cage prevented any relief. Instead, the restraint only intensified his discomfort, pressing painfully against him each time he felt himself react to the sight before him.

Lori continued her routine, seemingly unbothered, casting the occasional glance over her shoulder to ensure he remained seated and fully aware of his restricted state. Her calm, collected demeanor only amplified his frustration, reminding him of the boundaries that were now firmly in place.

As Peter sat on the edge of the bed, watching Lori move confidently through her routine, he felt an overwhelming surge of conflicting emotions. This was the first time he had ever seen his mother fully exposed, her form lit softly by the bathroom lights as she moved under the warm stream of water. It was an image that stirred a strange, almost bewildering mix of feelings within him.

He felt a deep, instinctive embarrassment for even looking, yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away. His mind told him that this was forbidden, a boundary he had no right to cross even as an observer, yet here he was, drawn in by the intimacy of the scene unfolding before him. The admiration he felt for her beauty was tempered by an undeniable sense of shame. She was, after all, his mother—a figure of authority, care, and protection—yet in this moment, that role felt strangely complex and almost surreal.

As the thoughts churned in his mind, he was hit by another physical reminder of his punishment. The cage around him made its presence known again with sharp, uncomfortable pressure, preventing any natural reaction and turning his emotions into a painful reminder of his limitations. The restrained sensation brought him back to reality, grounding him in the knowledge that he was here not by choice, but as a part of a lesson—a lesson in boundaries and respect, one that was meant to make him understand just how far he had overstepped.

Lori, meanwhile, continued her shower without so much as a second glance, seemingly unfazed by his presence. She lathered her skin and rinsed herself off, moving with the same grace and authority she always carried, reinforcing the gulf between them—the reminder that, regardless of any feelings stirred, he was entirely subject to her rules and boundaries. The dynamic, uncomfortable as it was, left him feeling small, helpless, and painfully aware of his position.

As Lori stepped out of the shower and the bathroom, droplets of water glistened on her skin, catching the soft light, accentuating her form with an almost surreal clarity. She paused, meeting Peter’s gaze with a calm, knowing look, and for a moment, his heart raced painfully in his chest. His body reacted instinctively to the scene before him, a rush of unwanted arousal hitting him like a wave, only to collide with the unforgiving restraint of the cage locked around him. The sharp discomfort flared immediately, heightening both his shame and his helplessness, a painful reminder of his punishment.

She took her time as she dried herself, her motions unhurried and deliberate, each movement an exercise in quiet confidence. Starting at her shoulders, she patted down her skin, the towel tracing a path over her arms and torso, every motion unintentionally increasing his discomfort. Each time his body responded involuntarily to her form, the cage’s relentless pressure turned his reaction into a painful lesson, making him acutely aware of his predicament.

As she lifted one leg to dry it, her posture remained poised and self-assured, each movement accentuating her authority over him. She caught his eyes briefly with a small, satisfied smile, as if she knew exactly the effect this was having on him, the layers of shame and frustration building with each passing moment. The throbbing pain from the cage forced him to confront the reality of his position, intensifying his awareness of the boundaries she’d established.

As Peter squirmed uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, the dull, relentless ache from the cage finally pushed him to whisper, “Mommy… it hurts.” His voice was small, barely audible, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he admitted his discomfort.

Lori turned, raising an eyebrow as a faint smile played at the corners of her mouth. She looked him over, her expression unreadable, before replying calmly, “Well, Peter, maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to violate my privacy.” Her voice was cool, authoritative, carrying just a hint of satisfaction.

She took a step closer, folding her arms, her gaze unwavering. “This pain is part of your lesson. Actions have consequences, and this discomfort? It’s only a fraction of what you’ve earned. So I suggest you sit there, reflect on the choices that led you here, and understand why boundaries exists.”

As Lori continued her routine, she moved the bottle of lotion to her hands, squeezing a generous amount before applying it to her stomach, her fingers gliding across her toned skin with practiced ease. She worked the cream over her belly in slow, circular motions, her gaze occasionally shifting to Peter as he sat on the edge of her bed, his face flushed with embarrassment and discomfort.

“You wanted to ignore boundaries, didn’t you, Peter?” she said, her tone carrying a hint of reprimand as she let her hands smooth the lotion up from her stomach to her sides. “Sneaking into my room, taking what isn’t yours… well, if you thought that was acceptable, now you’re going to sit there and watch, whether you like it or not.”

Peter squirmed slightly, feeling an increasing tightness from the cage locked around him. Each moment seemed to amplify his discomfort, the physical restriction reinforcing the mental one as he sat there, powerless to do anything but observe as she continued her preparation.

Lori took her time, lifting her hands to apply lotion to her breasts and collarbone, her fingers gliding over her skin in smooth strokes. She worked the cream into her skin with care, her movements unhurried as she continued her scolding. “Since you have such little respect for what doesn’t belong to you, consider this a reminder that you have no control here. No choice, no say—just the reality of boundaries you’re now forced to respect.”

Peter swallowed hard, his gaze torn between the intensity of her words and the uncomfortable pressure from the cage, which grew with every passing second. Lori seemed to sense his struggle, her expression firm as she maintained her composure, driving home the lesson with every calm, deliberate motion.

As she finished with her breasts, Lori finally looked back at him, her eyes steady and authoritative. “I hope this is clear, Peter,” she said softly but firmly. “This is what it means to understand boundaries—and your place within them.”

Peter squirmed on the edge of the bed, the pressure from the cage growing unbearable as it dug into him, pressing against him in ways that sent sharp pangs of discomfort radiating into his testicles. Each slight movement seemed to make it worse, the confinement squeezing with a relentless ache that left him feeling increasingly desperate.

A soft, choked sob escaped him, and he looked up at Lori with watery eyes, his voice trembling as he tried to find words. “But Mommy… please,” he whimpered, his voice breaking slightly. “It… it hurts. My… my… privates… please, it’s so painful.”

Lori’s expression remained calm and unyielding, her gaze steady as she watched him with a look of both authority and satisfaction. A slight, knowing smile played on her lips as she absorbed his plea, her voice firm but calm as she responded.

“Good,” she replied, her tone unwavering. “That discomfort is exactly what you need to feel, Peter. Maybe now you’ll understand that crossing boundaries comes with consequences—consequences that aren’t always comfortable or easy.”

Peter let out a small, pained sob, his shoulders shaking slightly as he tried to endure the unrelenting ache. His gaze dropped, feeling completely helpless under her gaze, the sharp ache in his testicles a constant, agonizing reminder of the lesson she was enforcing.

Lori continued her preparations with calm precision, a faint, satisfied smile lingering on her lips as she turned back to her vanity, unbothered by Peter’s quiet whimpers and pleading glances. She reached for her new lingerie, holding up each piece with care before slipping it on, piece by piece, her movements slow and deliberate, each action reinforcing her control over the moment.

First, she rolled on the sheer black stockings, smoothing them up her legs with graceful hands, fastening them to the garter belt with a practiced ease. Peter’s discomfort only intensified as he watched, shifting on the edge of the bed, each movement of hers seeming to tighten the ache within his cage, pressing against him in ways that left him unable to escape the painful confinement.

As Lori adjusted the garter belt, ensuring each strap sat perfectly in place, she glanced over at Peter, her expression one of cool authority. “I hope you’re taking this all in, Peter,” she said, her voice calm but pointed. “This is the reality of boundaries—of things you can see, but never touch.”

She picked up the next piece, a pair of black crotchless panties, slipping them on with an air of elegance that seemed to make his restricted state all the more unbearable. The delicate lace and open design left little to the imagination, a stark contrast that emphasized his own helplessness. Each piece she put on felt like a reminder of her control, her choices, and the limits she had set for him.

Finally, she fastened a push-up bra, adjusting it to fit perfectly, her figure enhanced by the elegant, alluring design. With each step of her routine, Peter writhed slightly, feeling the sharp ache in his testicles grow more intense, the cage pressing tightly as he watched her, his discomfort heightened by every detail of her preparation.

Once Lori had finished putting on her lingerie, she turned to face Peter, giving him a knowing look as she adjusted the delicate lace of her lingerie. The black crotchless panties, paired with the garter belt and stockings, framed her with an undeniable allure, each detail carefully selected to emphasize her elegance and confidence.

She took a step closer to him, one eyebrow raised as she did a slow turn, allowing him to take in the full view. Her expression was both teasing and pointed, a reminder of the boundaries she had so firmly set.

“Tell me, Peter,” she said, her tone laced with curiosity and an edge of authority, “do you think my date will appreciate these? Do you think he’ll understand exactly what they… invite?”

Peter’s face flushed deeply, his gaze dropping as he shifted uncomfortably, the ache from the cage pressing sharply against him, reminding him of his helpless state. He swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to respond.

“Yes…” he stammered, his voice thick with the tension of the moment.

Lori’s smile widened slightly, clearly pleased with his answer, but she held his gaze, her eyes steady. “Good,” she replied. “Now tell me something, Peter,” she said, her voice soft but carrying a firm edge. “In your wildest dreams, do you think you could ever be with a woman like me?”

Peter’s face flushed even deeper, and he hesitated, his gaze dropping, feeling the weight of her question pressing down on him. She stood there, every detail of her elegant, alluring attire radiating confidence and authority, a presence that felt worlds beyond anything he could ever hope to reach. The ache in the cage intensified, a sharp reminder of his limitations, as he absorbed the full meaning behind her words.

He swallowed, feeling the burning weight of embarrassment and the futility of his situation. “No… no, I couldn’t,” he murmured, barely able to look up, each word spoken with quiet resignation.

With a self-assured smile, Lori turned back to her vanity, carefully beginning to apply her makeup with a practiced hand. Peter sat quietly on the edge of the bed, watching as she skillfully added just the right touches of eyeliner, lipstick, and blush, each movement enhancing her natural beauty, making her look even more striking. She radiated confidence and control, an aura that seemed to grow as she continued her preparations.

Once her makeup was complete, Lori reached for the slinky black dress she had chosen earlier. The fabric slipped over her body smoothly, hugging her curves perfectly as she adjusted the straps and let the hem settle just above her knees. She gave herself a final once-over in the mirror, smoothing the dress as it draped elegantly down her frame. Then, with a deliberate touch, she reached for a pair of sleek, black “fuck me” heels, sliding her feet in and fastening the straps with an air of certainty that left no doubt she knew exactly the effect they’d have.

Peter couldn’t help but feel the tension grow, watching as each detail added to her allure—the shimmering earrings, the curve-enhancing dress, the heels that emphasized her height and poise. As she stood and did a final check in the mirror, Peter noticed something small and gleaming dangling from a delicate chain around her neck: the key to his chastity cage, hanging prominently between her collarbones, resting there like a subtle but undeniable statement of authority.

Lori turned to him with a raised eyebrow, her expression calm yet questioning. She let the silence linger for a moment before speaking, her voice soft yet firm. “Well, Peter? How do I look?”

“You… you look beautiful, Mom,” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper, the mix of awe and discomfort evident in his tone. Peter swallowed hard, his eyes flickering between her gaze, the dress, the heels, and finally, that little key around her neck that symbolized his confinement. 

Peter’s gaze fixed on that tiny, gleaming key resting just above the neckline of her dress. His heart raced as a realization dawned on him: her date might notice the key, might even ask her about it. The thought of her explaining its purpose to someone else—especially to another man—filled him with a new wave of humiliation and dread.

Desperate, he looked up at her, his voice trembling slightly. “Mom… please,” he began, swallowing hard as he forced himself to continue. “Please… don’t wear the key tonight. What if… what if he asks you about it?”

Lori raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by his sudden concern. She let her fingers linger on the key for a moment, her expression calm but with a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Oh, is that so?” she replied, her tone laced with mock sympathy. “Now you’re worried about what others might think?”

Peter nodded, his face flushed as he tried to find the right words. “It’s just… he might… I mean, he might ask,” he stammered, his discomfort clear as he struggled to explain himself. “I don’t want anyone else to… to know about it.”

Lori chuckled softly, giving him a slight, knowing smile. “Well, that’s not really up to you, is it, Peter?” she replied, adjusting the key so it rested squarely in view. “Maybe I’ll explain, maybe I won’t. But if he does ask, I suppose he’ll get an honest answer. After all, honesty is important, don’t you think?”

Peter’s shoulders slumped, realizing that he was utterly powerless in the matter. Lori’s confidence and the cool, satisfied glint in her eye left no room for negotiation, and he knew any further pleading would only emphasize the control she held over him.

“Now, be a good boy and let me worry about my date,” Lori said smoothly, casting one last glance in the mirror. She adjusted the chain around her neck, ensuring the small key was perfectly visible against her skin, a subtle but deliberate reminder of the authority she held. She glanced at Peter with a pleased, almost dismissive smile as she picked up her purse, giving herself one last look in the mirror.

“My date is taking me to a very expensive restaurant tonight,” she said, her voice laced with satisfaction. “And if things go well, I may bring him back here afterward. So, I expect everything to be spotless when I return.”

Peter’s stomach tightened at her words, the idea of her bringing her date home adding another layer of tension to his already conflicted feelings. Lori seemed to sense his discomfort, her smile widening slightly as she continued.

“Now,” she said, her tone shifting into a businesslike cadence, “while I’m out, you’ll have a list of chores to complete. The kitchen needs to be spotless, the floors vacuumed, and my bathroom cleaned from top to bottom. I also expect all the laundry folded and put away neatly.” She paused, letting the weight of her instructions settle.

Peter nodded, already feeling the pressure of her expectations. “Yes, Mom,” he replied quietly, knowing better than to argue.

Lori raised an eyebrow, her expression turning stern. “And just so we’re clear,” she added, her voice dropping into a tone that left no room for negotiation, “if I come back and find anything out of place, you’ll be getting a spanking—whether my date is here or not. Understood?”

Peter swallowed, nodding quickly. “Yes, Mom,” he replied, feeling a mixture of anxiety and determination to avoid any further punishment.

As Lori finished her final touches, a knock echoed from the front door. She smiled, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes as she headed toward the door, motioning for Peter to follow. But as she opened the door, Peter’s stomach dropped; standing there, dressed in a sharp suit with a smug grin plastered on his face, was James—the very guy who had tormented him through high school.

James took one look at Peter and smirked, clearly delighted by his discomfort. “Petey, long time no see,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “Didn’t know you were still around. But I guess I’ll be taking care of your mom tonight.”

Peter swallowed hard, his cheeks flushing. He looked at his mom, desperate. “Mom, please… you don’t have to go out with him,” he stammered. “You don’t know what he’s like.”

Lori only laughed, brushing off his concerns with a wave of her hand. “Oh, Peter, don’t be so dramatic,” she replied, smiling as she turned her attention to James, who was waiting confidently by the door. “I think James is absolutely charming and very handsome. I’m looking forward to a wonderful evening with him.”

Peter’s protests died in his throat, his face hot with embarrassment and frustration as Lori linked her arm through James’s. She looked over her shoulder with a playful, dismissive smile. “Now, be a good boy, Peter. Do your chores while we’re out, and remember what I told you if they’re not done by the time I’m back home….”

With that, she closed the door, leaving him standing there, his objections hanging in the empty space she left behind.

Peter spent the next few hours meticulously working through the list of chores his mom had assigned him. He scrubbed every inch of the kitchen, polished the floors, cleaned her bathroom to a spotless shine, and folded and organized the laundry with careful precision. The memory of her warning—that he’d be spanked if he failed to complete everything to her satisfaction, regardless of James’s presence—lingered in his mind, driving him to make sure everything was perfect.

As he finished up the last task, folding the final piece of laundry and setting it neatly away, he heard the sound of the front door opening. His heart skipped a beat as Lori’s voice drifted through the entryway, followed by a deeper, familiar laugh. She was home—and she had brought James with her.

Peter quickly stood up, feeling a mix of anxiety and lingering resentment as he straightened up, listening to their footsteps drawing closer. Lori entered the room, her face lit with a pleased smile, her arm still linked with James’s as they stepped inside.

“Well, look at that,” Lori said with a hint of amusement, glancing around at the pristine condition of the house. “It seems you managed to get everything done, Peter. I’m impressed.”

James smirked, giving Peter a mocking glance. “Guess you did something right for once, huh Petey?” he sneered, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

Peter forced himself to nod, feeling his cheeks flush. “Yes, Mom,” he replied quietly, hoping that his efforts had been enough to avoid any further humiliation.

Lori gave him an approving smile, then turned to James, inviting him to sit down and make himself comfortable. “Why don’t you stay a while, James?” she said, her tone warm. “I’ll get us something to drink. Peter, why don’t you join us for a bit as well and reconnect with your old chum?”

As they settled into the living room, Lori handed James a drink, and he leaned back comfortably on the couch, a smug grin spreading across his face as he looked over at Peter.

“You know, Petey,” James began, his tone dripping with amusement, “your mom told me everything about what you got up to this morning. Imagine my surprise hearing what a total little perv you are with her things. Panties, really?”

Peter’s face went red, his eyes widening as he darted a glance at his mom, who merely sipped her drink with a slight, almost entertained smile. The embarrassment washed over him in waves, and he looked down, unable to meet James’s mocking gaze.

“Yeah,” James continued, clearly relishing every second of Peter’s discomfort. “I knew you were awkward in high school, but I didn’t think you’d end up this pathetic. Sneaking around with your mom’s panties? Pathetic.”

Peter stammered, his face burning with shame. “I… I didn’t mean… it’s not…,” he trailed off, utterly flustered and at a loss for words. He glanced at his mom, hoping for some kind of reprieve, but she simply watched, not stepping in to defend him.

James leaned back with a smug grin, clearly relishing Peter’s discomfort. His gaze dropped pointedly to Peter’s waist, where the unseen cage was a constant, humiliating reminder of his punishment.

“So, Petey,” James drawled, crossing his arms, “how does it feel being locked up like that? All caged up with nowhere to go?”

Peter’s face flushed deeply, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words. “I… it’s… well…” he stammered, each word fumbling as he struggled under James’s mocking gaze.

Lori, noticing his struggle, casually reached up and held the small, gleaming key that dangled from the chain around her neck, letting it catch the light as she looked at Peter with a slight, almost teasing smile. “Go on, Peter,” she said, her tone soft but firm, as she gently swung the key back and forth. “You can answer James honestly.”

Peter swallowed, feeling the weight of both their gazes on him as he tried to respond. “It… it’s… uncomfortable,” he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper, his face burning with the sheer humiliation of having to discuss this in front of his mom and his former bully.

James laughed, clearly delighted by Peter’s discomfort. “I bet it is. Must be frustrating, huh? Knowing that she’s got the key right there, and you can’t do a damned thing about it.”

Lori glanced at James, a slight smile playing at her lips as she gave a small, approving nod. “Well, sometimes lessons need to be memorable to stick, don’t they, Peter?”

Peter could only nod, feeling utterly exposed and helpless under their combined scrutiny, the small key swinging from his mother’s neck a constant, silent reminder of his powerless position.

Lori looked over at Peter, her gaze steady and unyielding as a new idea seemed to occur to her. She gave a small, thoughtful smile, then turned to James with a casual air.

“Peter,” she said calmly, though her tone left no room for argument, “Why don’t you go ahead and show James your new undies?”

Peter’s face turned crimson, his eyes wide as he shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. “Mom… please… don’t make me…”

But Lori’s expression hardened, her voice growing firmer. “Enough with the excuses, Peter. You wanted to ignore boundaries, so now you’ll face the consequences. Drop your pants and hold up your shirt. Unless, that is, you want to take a little trip…” she said, patting her lap.

With trembling hands and feeling the full weight of his humiliation, Peter slowly reached down, unbuttoning his pants and letting them slide down to his knees. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he lifted his shirt, exposing the delicate pink lace panties that hugged him snugly, a stark contrast to the stern lesson his mother had intended.

James burst out laughing, his expression one of pure, unrestrained amusement. “Well, well,” he said with a smirk, barely able to contain his laughter. “Pink lace? That’s priceless, Petey. You look just like a girl!”

Lori tilted her head, observing Peter’s discomfort with a satisfied look. “Now, Peter,” she said, her tone calm but commanding, “give us a little spin. Let James see the full picture.”

Peter’s face burned even brighter, but he knew better than to protest. With a shaky breath, he slowly turned around, his hands still holding up his shirt, fully exposing the pink lace panties stretched snugly over his bottom. As he completed the turn, the faint redness still lingering on his cheeks from the earlier spanking was unmistakable.

James’s eyebrows shot up as he took in the sight, and a smug grin spread across his face. “Wait… you got a red ass? You got spanked?” he asked, a note of incredulous amusement in his voice. “Mommy actually spanked you?”

Lori nodded, crossing her arms with a small, satisfied smile. “Not only me,” she replied smoothly. “The salesgirl at the lingerie boutique did as well.”

James let out a low chuckle, clearly relishing Peter’s humiliation. “Wow, Petey,” he said, his tone mocking. “I’d say you got more than you bargained for. A cock cage, pink panties, and a sore backside, in public? Looks like someone’s really been put in his place.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped, his face red with embarrassment as he faced the two of them. James leaned back, a glint of smug curiosity in his eyes as he looked Peter up and down, clearly enjoying every second of the humiliation. After a moment, he tilted his head, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous smirk.

“So, Petey,” he drawled, barely hiding his amusement, “while you’re at it, why don’t you go ahead and show me that cage you’re wearing?”

Peter’s face went white, his heart pounding as he shook his head slightly, his voice catching in his throat. “Please… no,” he stammered, barely able to meet James’s gaze.

But Lori’s expression hardened instantly, her tone unyielding. “Peter,” she said, her voice carrying an air of finality, “you chose to ignore boundaries, so now you’re going to show James exactly how you’re being kept in line.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped, realizing he had no choice. Hands trembling, he carefully hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the lace panties, lowering them in front and hooking them around the base of his testicles, just enough to reveal the chastity cage above. The small, restrictive device glinted under the room’s light, a visible reminder of the authority his mother held over him.

James let out a low, mocking laugh, shaking his head as he looked at the cage. “Well, would you look at that,” he said, clearly relishing the sight. “I guess that really keeps you in check, doesn’t it, Petey?”

Lori nodded, a hint of satisfaction in her eyes. “Exactly,” she said calmly. “A fitting consequence, wouldn’t you agree?”

Peter’s face burned with shame, standing there exposed and powerless, fully aware of the control both his mother and now James held over him in that moment.

After that, Lori and James barely spared him a second glance, their attention now shifting entirely to each other, leaving Peter standing awkwardly, feeling increasingly small and helpless.

Lori turned to James with a smile, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder as they moved closer. Their voices dropped to soft murmurs as they exchanged a few quiet words, and then, as if Peter weren’t even in the room, they leaned into each other, sharing a slow, passionate kiss.

Peter’s discomfort only grew, his face burning as he stood frozen, unable to turn away or escape the situation. Each moment seemed to stretch endlessly as he watched his mother and James grow closer, their laughter and soft words shared in a world entirely separate from him.

James pulled back from the kiss, smirking as he noticed Peter’s humiliated expression. “Aw, look at him,” he chuckled, glancing over at Lori. “Standing there like a little lost puppy, not sure what to do with himself.”

Lori’s eyes gleamed with amusement, and she turned to Peter with a raised eyebrow. “Peter, I want you to understand something very clearly,” she said, her tone firm but almost playful. “When I set rules, I expect them to be followed, and part of learning that means being reminded of your place.”

James leaned forward, crossing his arms as he looked Peter up and down. “So, let’s make it crystal clear, shall we?” he suggested, a wicked grin on his face.

Lori nodded, giving Peter a pointed look. “Since you seemed to have so much trouble respecting boundaries earlier, I think it’s only fair that James sees just how seriously I take discipline.” She gestured to the corner of the room. “Peter, go stand in the corner, hands on your head. You leave those panties right where they are.”

Peter’s face burned with a fresh wave of humiliation, but he knew better than to resist. His cheeks flushed as he walked over, slowly turning to face the wall, placing his hands on his head as instructed. He could hear James’s mocking laughter behind him, each sound only amplifying his embarrassment.

“Good,” Lori said approvingly, her tone tinged with satisfaction. “And don’t move until I say so, Peter. James and I will be right here, having a lovely evening—don’t let us catch you sneaking a peek.”

As Peter stood rigidly in the corner, he tried to block out the sounds coming from behind him, but it was impossible. Lori’s laughter grew softer, replaced by faint murmurs and the unmistakable sounds of lips meeting, punctuated by quiet, satisfied sighs. Every sound made his face flush hotter, his body tense as he fought against the urge to turn around.

The intensity between Lori and James seemed to grow, their voices lowering into hushed, intimate tones. “You really know how to keep things in line around here,” James murmured, his voice dripping with amusement as he spoke. “Seems like someone needed a firm hand.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Lori replied, her tone laced with both amusement and satisfaction. “It’s been long overdue, hasn’t it, Peter?” She directed the question at him, but there was no response expected, and Peter knew better than to answer.

Instead, he stood there, feeling his cheeks burn as James’s laughter echoed through the room. The soft sounds of their escalating closeness became louder, and Peter’s heart pounded as he listened, each sound driving his sense of helplessness deeper.

Suddenly, Lori’s voice rose, directed sharply at him. “Peter, turn around.”

He hesitated, feeling a surge of dread mixed with the heavy embarrassment flooding his body, but he slowly turned, facing them as instructed. There they were, entwined on the couch, Lori nestled close to James, her head tilted toward him as he brushed a hand along her shoulder. Both of them regarded Peter with a mixture of amusement and expectation, reveling in his visible discomfort.

“Come closer, Peter,” Lori instructed, her tone still gentle but carrying an unspoken command. She nodded toward the spot just a few feet away from them, where he could feel every ounce of his humiliation under their gaze.

He shuffled forward reluctantly, barely able to meet their eyes as he stood there, completely at their mercy. Lori rested her hand on James’s shoulder, giving Peter a slow, deliberate smile. “Sometimes, Peter, the best way to learn respect is to watch others show it to each other,” she said, her tone soft but firm, and then, without waiting, she leaned into James again, their kiss slow and lingering, filled with the kind of intensity that only deepened Peter’s sense of powerlessness.

Peter’s face burned as he watched, feeling utterly exposed and reduced to a mere observer in their world. Every glance they cast his way only seemed to emphasize the divide between them, leaving him standing there, helpless and humiliated, as they continued their passionate embrace.

As Peter stood, face flushed with humiliation, he watched helplessly as James’s hand moved up, resting on Lori’s shoulder for a brief moment before sliding down slowly, his fingers tracing the curve of her body. Lori let out a soft, pleased sigh as James’s hand reached under her dress and bra and came to rest on her bare breast, his fingers confidently pressing against her. She leaned into him, her own hand trailing along his arm as she welcomed his touch, her expression one of complete ease and enjoyment.

James glanced at Peter, a smug grin playing on his lips as he held Lori close, clearly enjoying the discomfort this was causing. “Guess some of us know how to take what we want,” he murmured, his tone dripping with satisfaction. Lori responded with a quiet laugh, her gaze drifting toward Peter, her eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something more resolute.

Peter shifted uncomfortably, every nerve heightened as he was forced to witness the closeness between them. Lori gave a subtle nod toward him, as if relishing his discomfort. James, catching her cue, only tightened his grip, leaning down to kiss her neck, his hand still firmly squeezing her breast, underscoring his confidence and command over the moment.

Lori glanced at Peter with a wicked glint in her eyes, clearly savoring the power she held over him. She turned back to James, her voice barely above a murmur, but filled with intent. “Why don’t we make this lesson unforgettable for him?” she whispered, her hand trailing up James’s arm as she looked at him with a smirk. “Let him watch what real confidence looks like.”

James’s eyes sparkled with intrigue as he looked over at Peter, who stood there, face flushed, completely frozen. “Oh, I think that sounds like a fitting punishment,” he replied, his voice thick with amusement. He glanced at Peter, a triumphant grin spreading across his face as he saw the mix of embarrassment and helplessness in Peter’s expression.

Lori leaned back slightly, pulling James closer, and her eyes met Peter’s, the satisfaction evident in her gaze. “I hope you’re paying attention, Peter,” she said, her tone firm and unyielding. “Maybe this will finally teach you where your place is—and what it looks like when two people know exactly what they want.”

Peter swallowed hard, feeling as if he could barely breathe under the weight of their scrutiny, unable to escape the situation or the lesson Lori intended him to absorb fully. The room was thick with tension, and every glance they exchanged only deepened the intensity of the scene, leaving Peter rooted to the spot, forced to witness every moment.

With a deliberate, lingering touch, James’s hands moved to Lori’s shoulders, fingers slipping beneath the straps of her dress. He took his time, savoring every moment, as he gently slid them down, exposing her shoulders and the graceful line of her neck. Lori’s gaze remained fixed on Peter, her eyes glinting with a mix of authority and satisfaction, clearly relishing the control she held over him in this vulnerable, charged moment.

As the dress slipped lower, pooling around her waist before gliding to the floor, Lori stood there, confident and poised, her posture exuding a kind of self-assurance that made Peter’s cheeks burn even deeper. She glanced up at James with a playful, knowing smile, her fingers moving to the waistband of his pants. Her movements were slow, intentional, and filled with a steady determination as she undid the button, sliding the zipper down before allowing his pants to drop, exposing his firm stance.

James gave her an appreciative smile, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead, while his eyes flickered over to Peter, clearly amused by the discomfort radiating from him. Lori stepped closer to James, allowing him to wrap his arms around her as they stood intertwined, utterly absorbed in each other, yet both fully aware of Peter’s presence.

“Are you learning something, Peter?” Lori’s voice was calm, almost instructive, as she broke the silence, her tone reminding him that this was as much about reinforcing boundaries as it was about making sure he understood exactly where he stood in her world.

Lori kept her gaze locked on Peter for a moment longer, her expression one of unyielding authority, before she slowly knelt before James, her movements deliberate and confident. She let her hands trail down his torso, her touch both gentle and commanding as she brought him to full attention, clearly savoring every reaction she drew from him.

James reached down and unfastened her bra, allowing her large breasts to tumble free.

His mother, a vision of dominance and control, was on her knees before James, the boy who had made Peter's life a misery at school. But here, in this room, James was not the bully—he was a conqueror, about to claim what Peter could never have.

Her lips were wrapped around James' cock, which was impressive in both girth and length—a stark contrast to Peter's own modest endowment. The sight of his mother servicing another man, especially one he despised, was a punishment in itself.

James' hands were threaded through her hair, guiding her rhythm as she bobbed her head, her eyes locked on his. The sounds of her wet mouth working on his shaft filled the room, mingling with the soft whimpers that escaped from Peter's lips.

Peter's gaze was fixated on the obscene display before him. He could see the glistening saliva as it trailed down James' cock, the way his mother's throat bulged with each deep thrust. The reality of his situation was undeniable—he was being forced to watch his own mother prepare another man for sex, and there was nothing he could do about it.

As James grew closer to his climax, he pulled away from Peter's mother's mouth, leaving her panting and wanting. He stepped forward, his erection standing proud and slick with her spit. "Look at it, Peter," Lori commanded, her voice dripping with superiority. "This is what a real man's cock looks like."

Peter's eyes widened, his cheeks flushed with humiliation and unwanted desire. He could feel the cage around his own member, a constant reminder of his inadequacies and his place in this twisted dynamic.

James turned his attention back to Peter's mother. "Get on the couch," he ordered. She complied without hesitation, presenting herself to him, her legs spread wide, her crotchless panties framing her wet sex. James positioned himself between her thighs, the head of his cock teasing her entrance.

"Watch closely, Peter," his mother said, her voice a mixture of command and lust.

With that, James thrust into her, his size forcing a gasp from her lips. Peter could see every detail—the way her pussy stretched to accommodate him, the lewd sounds of their coupling, the look of ecstasy on his mother's face as she was filled by a man his age, his schooldays nemesis.

Peter's own arousal was undeniable, the pressure against the cage around his cock a testament to the complex web of shame, humiliation, and desire that bound him. He was trapped in a world of punishment and pleasure, forced to confront his own inadequacies while being made to witness the forbidden act before him.

James' thrusts became more frenzied, his grip on Peter's mother's hips tightening as he drove into her with animalistic intensity. Peter watched, his own breaths coming in short, sharp gasps behind his clenched teeth. The sight of his mother's body being claimed so thoroughly by another man was a sight he'd never be able to erase from his memory.

With a final, powerful thrust, James buried himself to the hilt, his body shuddering as he reached his climax. Peter could see the muscles in his mother's neck strain as she cried out in pleasure, her own orgasm milking every last drop from James' convulsing cock.

The room was filled with the sounds of their shared ecstasy, the scent of sex heavy in the air. James pulled out slowly, his softening member glistening with their combined fluids. Peter's eyes were drawn to the sight of his mother's well-fucked pussy, slick and swollen, with trails of James' cum beginning to seep out.

Peter's mother turned her head to look at her son, her eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and authority. "Come here, Peter," she commanded, her voice leaving no room for disobedience. "Clean me up. Show me that you're learning your lesson."

Peter's heart pounded in his chest as he shuffled forward. The cage around his cock seemed to mock him, a constant reminder of his submission and his place in this humiliating tableau.

As he approached, his mother spread her legs wider, offering him an unfettered view of the mess that James had left inside her. "Lick it all up," she instructed, her tone firm. "I want you to taste the result of your naughty behavior."

Peter hesitated for a moment, the reality of what he was being asked to do sinking in. But there was no resisting his mother's will. He knelt and leaned in, his face inches from her cum-soaked pussy. He could smell the musky scent of their sex, could see the pearly strands of James' sperm as they oozed from her body.

With a sense of resignation, Peter extended his tongue, tentatively at first, then with more conviction as his mother's hand pressed against the back of his head, urging him closer. He lapped at her folds, tasting the salty tang of James' cum mingled with her own arousal.

The act was degrading, humiliating, and yet Peter couldn't deny the twisted pleasure that came with his submission. He was cleaning up after another man—a man who had just fucked his own mother in front of him. The knowledge of his place, the reality of his punishment, was strangely intoxicating.

Peter's mother moaned softly as her son's tongue worked diligently between her legs, her body still sensitive from her recent orgasm. "Good boy," she murmured, stroking his hair as he serviced her. "You see now what happens when you're bad? This is your role, Peter. You are here to please and to obey."

Finally, sated and clean, she pushed him away gently. Peter sat back on his heels, his face glistening with the evidence of his submission. His mother rose from the couch while James pulled his pants back up. She remained as she was, in the lingerie with her breasts free.

Peter's eyes followed the glint of the small key as his mother lifted it from her neck. The metallic promise of release from the cage that bound his arousal was a cruel taunt, a reminder of his powerlessness. His cock strained against its confines, the need for release an aching torment that clouded his every thought.

"Please, Mom," Peter pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation. "I can't take it anymore. I need to cum."

His mother's smirk was a knife twist to his heart. "I think James should decide your fate," she said, her voice laced with mischief as she fastened the key around James' neck.

Peter's gaze shifted to James, his eyes wide with hope and humiliation. "James, please," he begged, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "I'm so horny, it hurts."

James chuckled, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "You think I care about your little problem?" he retorted, his hand toying with the key that dangled from his neck. "You're lucky to even be in the same room as us after what you did."

The rejection stung, but it was the humiliation of having to beg another man for release that truly gnawed at Peter's pride. He turned back to his mother, the desperation in his voice escalating to a whine. "Mom, make him understand. I can't stand this anymore!"

His mother's response was cool and collected. "Peter, you need to learn respect," she chastised. "James has the key now, and you will address him with the deference he deserves."

James' smug expression hardened at Peter's display of defiance. "Is this how you speak to someone who holds your fate in their hands?" he asked, his voice steeped in condescension.

Before Peter could respond, James' hand shot out, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him towards him. With surprising strength, he bent Peter over his knee, the position both demeaning and inescapable. James lowered the backs of Peter’s panties to his knees.

Lori, watched with an air of approval. "This is what happens when you forget your place, Peter," she said, her tone firm.

James' belt was a harsh whisper as it slid from his pants. James folded the belt and wrapped it several times around his hand to shorten it. The first crack of the leather against Peter's bare ass was a shock of pain that took his breath away. The subsequent strikes came in a steady rhythm, each one reinforcing his subjugation, each one a reminder of his place.

With each stroke of the belt, Peter's resistance crumbled a little more. His begging turned to sobs, his pride replaced with a profound sense of humility. He was no longer just a son begging for release; he was a submissive, stripped of all pretense, learning the hard way the cost of disrespect.

Finally, the spanking ceased. Peter lay panting over James' knee, his ass throbbing, his cock still painfully hard and trapped within its cage. His mother's voice was softer now, almost gentle. "Do you understand now, Peter? Do you see who holds the power?"

Peter nodded, his face flushed with shame and arousal. "Yes, Mom. I understand."

“Seems like you’ve got a lot to learn about respect,” James remarked, his tone mocking. “And until you figure it out, you’re going to stay exactly where you are—no release, no relief, until I decide you’ve earned it.”

Peter’s face burned as he processed her words, realizing just how little control he had left. He nodded slowly, a mix of resignation and submission settling over him as he understood the new boundaries now firmly in place.

Throughout the next week, Peter found himself unable to shake the thought of James and the power he now held. His curiosity and frustration grew with each passing day, and by midweek, he couldn’t help but ask his mother, albeit hesitantly, “When… when is James coming back?”

Lori looked up, an amused smile playing at her lips as she raised an eyebrow. “Eager, are we?” she teased, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “I didn’t think you’d be so eager to see him again, Peter. Maybe this little lesson is starting to sink in, hmm?”

Peter flushed, realizing how transparent he was being, but the weight of his frustration, mixed with the strange relief he felt in James’s commanding presence, made him nod slowly. “I just… I want to know,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lori chuckled softly, shaking her head as she continued with whatever task she had been doing. “Well, he’ll be back by the end of the week,” she replied. “And you’ll just have to be patient until then. It’s not for you to decide when he comes or what he does. Remember that, Peter. This is all part of your learning to accept what’s given and to be grateful for it.”

The days crawled by, each one blending into the next, until finally, on the evening of the seventh day, Peter heard the unmistakable sound of the front doorbell. His heart pounded as he glanced at his mother, who merely gave him a knowing smile as she got up to get the door.

“James is here, Peter,” she said softly as they both entered the room.

As James settled in, he looked over at Lori with a smirk, casually resting his hand on her shoulder. “So, has little Petey behaved himself this week?” he asked, his tone filled with mock amusement, clearly enjoying the power he held over the situation.

Lori gave a small, approving nod, glancing at Peter with an almost playful look. “Yes, but he’s been… eager,” she replied with a hint of amusement. “Asking about when you’d be back, wanting to know if he’d be… let out.”

James raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting to Peter, who stood nervously nearby, his face flushed. “Is that right, Petey?” James asked, crossing his arms as he looked him up and down. “You’ve been waiting all week for this, have you?”

Peter swallowed, nodding hesitantly, knowing he had to be careful with his words. “Yes,” he replied quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve… been good. I’ve done everything I was supposed to.”

James’s gaze narrowed, an amused glint in his eye as he took a step toward Peter, clearly reveling in the nervousness he was stirring up. “Oh, I see. You’ve been good, have you?” he repeated, letting his words hang in the air for a moment. Then, without breaking his gaze, he raised an eyebrow in Lori’s direction. “Has he been remembering his manners, Lori?”

Lori shook her head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Not quite,” she replied, casting a sidelong look at Peter. “In fact, he seems to have forgotten one rather important detail.”

Peter blinked, looking between them, clearly at a loss. “I… I don’t understand…” he stammered, his voice faltering under James’s unimpressed gaze.

James tilted his head, a mock-patient sigh escaping him. “You don’t understand?” he echoed slowly, his tone dripping with condescension. “It seems that someone needs a refresher on how to properly address those in charge. What’s my name, Petey?”

Peter’s cheeks burned as he quickly averted his gaze, muttering under his breath, “James…”

James’s expression hardened, and Lori shook her head, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. “No, Peter. That won’t do at all,” she chided, her voice both sweet and stern. “He’s not just James to you, now is he?”

Peter’s stomach dropped as he felt both pairs of eyes fixed on him, waiting. He knew what they wanted to hear, yet the words caught in his throat, knowing the added humility they demanded.

“It’s… Sir,” he finally managed, his voice barely audible.

James crossed his arms, one eyebrow lifting as he leaned in. “What was that, Petey? I didn’t quite catch it. You’re going to have to speak up if you want us to believe you’ve learned anything this week.”

Peter clenched his hands at his sides, his face flushed with embarrassment as he raised his voice just enough to be heard. “Yes, Sir,” he replied, feeling his pride crumble with each passing second under James’s unrelenting gaze.

James’s mouth curved into a satisfied smile as he gave Lori a knowing nod. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he taunted. “And from now on, Petey, every time you address me, it will be with the respect I deserve. No shortcuts, no mumbling under your breath.”

Lori leaned forward, her tone gentle but firm. “Now, Peter, why don’t you thank Sir properly? Tell him how grateful you are that he’s been so patient, waiting for you to learn respect.”

Peter’s face burned even brighter as he shifted awkwardly, his voice trembling slightly as he repeated what was expected. “Thank you, Sir… for being patient with me,” he managed, hating how small he felt in that moment, fully aware of how much both Lori and James were savoring his discomfort.

James chuckled softly, his satisfaction unmistakable. “Good,” he replied, settling back as though he’d just won a victory. “I think we’re finally starting to see some real improvement. Keep it up, Petey… and maybe I’ll consider rewarding you. But only when I’m convinced you truly understand your place.”

Peter nodded quickly, his face still flushed as he murmured, “Yes, Sir,” fully aware that this was only the beginning of his lesson in humility.

“Now,” James said, his tone firm. “Make your case, Peter. Tell me why you think you deserve to be let out. Convince me.”

Peter hesitated, feeling the weight of both their stares on him, and took a shaky breath. “I… I’ve followed all the rules,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been patient, just like you both wanted. I’ve done all my chores, listened, and respected what you told me to do… I just… I would really appreciate a chance to be let out… Sir.”

James leaned back, smirking, clearly enjoying Peter’s struggle. “That’s all well and good,” he replied, unimpressed. “But gratitude and obedience aren’t just occasional actions, Peter—they’re expectations.” He glanced at Lori, who nodded in agreement.

James leaned forward again, savoring the control he held. “All right, Petey,” he said slowly, his tone laced with mockery, “if I decide to let you out, tell me—what’s the first thing you’ll do the minute you’re free?”

Peter’s cheeks flushed deeply, and he fidgeted, feeling completely exposed under James’s gaze. He knew what James was really asking, but saying it aloud made him feel utterly vulnerable. Still, he took a shaky breath, unable to meet James’s eyes directly. “I… I’d probably… um…” His voice trailed off, embarrassed, as he struggled to find the words.

James let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying Peter’s discomfort. “Go on, say it,” he pressed, his tone firm. “Be honest. After all this waiting, what’s the first thing you’ll do?”

Peter swallowed hard, his face burning with embarrassment. “I’d… I’d probably… relieve myself,” he finally admitted in a whisper, barely able to get the words out.

James laughed, glancing over at Lori with a smirk. “See that? He’s barely been in his cage for a week, and he’s already desperate to just indulge himself,” he remarked, shaking his head. “Doesn’t seem like someone who’s learned much patience, does it?”

Lori looked at Peter with a disappointed, almost stern expression. “That’s the issue, Peter,” she said, her voice calm but pointed. “You’re still thinking about yourself first. It’s not about what you want—it’s about learning control, respect, and humility.” She folded her arms, giving James an approving nod.

“Perhaps,” Lori added, her tone calm but decisive, “you need to show a little more humility, Peter, if you truly want to earn this privilege.” Lori's voice was calm, collected. "To earn your release, Peter, you need to understand what it means to be a woman. You need to experience the vulnerability, the submission, and the pleasure that comes with it."

Peter's mind raced as he grasped the implications of her words. He knew what was being asked of him, and the thought sent a shiver down his spine.

"You need to strip and give James a blowjob, all the way to completion, in your mouth," Lori continued, her voice devoid of emotion. "This is your chance to prove that you've learned your lesson, that you're willing to submit to the desires of others."

Peter's eyes darted to James, who was already undoing his pants, his cock springing free. The reality of the situation hit Peter like a ton of bricks. He was being asked to perform a blowjob, to surrender to James' desires, and to do so without hesitation or complaint.

The cage around his cock seemed to mock him, a constant reminder of his own desires, of the pleasure that had been denied him for so long. Peter knew that he had no choice, that this was the only path to release.

With a sense of resignation, he stripped and then he approached James, his eyes locked on the erect cock before him. He could feel the weight of his mother's gaze, the expectation that he would comply, that he would submit. Peter dropped to his knees in front of James.

James' hand guided him, positioning his head at the base of his cock. Peter's mouth opened, his lips wrapping around the shaft as he began to suck. The taste was unfamiliar, the sensation both humiliating and arousing.

As he worked his way up and down James' cock, Peter's mind was a jumble of emotions. He was trapped in a world of submission, a world where his desires were secondary to those of others. And yet, there was a twisted sense of pleasure in this act, a pleasure that came from surrendering to the desires of another.

James' groans grew louder, his body tensing as he approached climax. Peter's mouth was filled with the salty tang of his precum, the knowledge that he was about to be punished with the taste of James' cum.

The moment of release came, James' cock pulsing as he emptied himself into Peter's mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, the taste bitter and sweet at the same time.

James' cock slipped from Peter's mouth, the cum-laden saliva pooling on his tongue. Peter's cheeks were puffed out, his eyes wide with a mix of disgust and fear. He looked ready to gag, the taste and texture of James' cum a stark reminder of his submission.

Lori's voice was firm, unyielding. "Swallow it, Peter. Every last drop."

Peter's eyes darted to his mother, a plea for mercy etched on his face. But Lori was unmoving, her gaze stern and unforgiving.

"If you don't swallow, you won't be released," she reminded him, her tone devoid of empathy. "You need to prove that you're willing to do whatever it takes to please others."

Peter's throat worked, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he struggled to comply. The cum was bitter, the texture thick and unpleasant. He could feel it coating his tongue, the roof of his mouth, and the back of his throat.

With a Herculean effort, Peter swallowed, the cum sliding down his throat like a cold, dead weight. He gagged, his body rebelling against the invasion, but Lori's grip on his shoulder kept him in place.

"That's it, Peter," she coaxed, her voice softening ever so slightly. "You're doing so well. Just a little more, and you'll be free to cum yourself."

The words were a cruel taunt, a reminder that Peter's own pleasure was still being withheld. He felt like a puppet on strings, dancing to the tune of his mother's desires.

As the last of the cum disappeared, Peter's mouth was dry, his throat parched. He looked up at Lori, his eyes pleading for release.

Lori's voice was soft, approving. "Well done, Peter."

Lori took the key from James, bent down, and then opened the cage around Peter’s cock with a soft click, the metal falling away as his mother's hand closed around his shaft. The sensation was pure bliss, the pleasure coursing through his veins like a river of fire. With a sharp tug, she pulled him up and towards the bathroom, his erection leading the way.

James followed behind, his laughter echoing off the walls, a cruel soundtrack to Peter's shame. Peter's face was a mask of mortification, his eyes downcast as he was led to the toilet like a naughty child.

Once inside the bathroom, Lori positioned Peter in front of the toilet. His cock jutted out over the bowl, a testament to his body's betrayal. Lori reached for a bottle of moisturizer on the counter, squeezing a generous amount into her palm.

She began to stroke him, her movements mechanical and impersonal. There was no warmth in her touch, no hint of affection. This was a transaction, a means to an end, and Peter knew it.

James leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk plastered on his face. "Look at you," he taunted. "All worked up over a little blowjob. What a pathetic excuse for a man."

Peter's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. The stimulation was overwhelming, the shame of being jerked off in front of James only serving to heighten his arousal.

Lori's hand moved faster, her grip tightening around his shaft. Peter could feel the pressure building, the need for release growing with each passing second.

"Please," he begged, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let me cum."

Lori's response was a cold, harsh laugh. "You think you deserve to cum after everything you've done? No, Peter. You're going to cum because I allow it, not because you deserve it."

With a final, brutal stroke, Peter's orgasm was upon him. His body convulsed, his cock spasming as he came, his cum splashing into the toilet bowl below. The release was intense, a mixture of relief and utter humiliation.

As the last drops of his cum disappeared into the water, Lori released her grip on his cock. She reached out, taking the cage from James' outstretched hand. With practiced ease, she reattached it around Peter's softening member, the metal a cold reminder of his place in this twisted dynamic.

James' laughter filled the room as Peter stood there, his cock caged once more, his body spent and defeated. Lori washed her hands, her eyes meeting Peter's in the mirror.

Peter’s face fell, a surge of disappointment and frustration welling up inside him. He had hoped this would be his chance for freedom, that perhaps they would finally trust him enough to be done with the cage entirely. But as it clicked back into place, he couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped him, his eyes welling with tears.

“Mom, please,” he pleaded, his voice shaky as he looked at her, desperation etched across his face. “I thought… I thought I’d be free. I don’t need the cage. I promise I’ll behave, I’ll do anything—just please don’t make me wear it again…”

Lori’s gaze softened slightly, though her resolve remained firm. She rested a hand on his shoulder, her voice calm but unyielding. “Peter, I know this is difficult for you,” she began gently, “but the truth is, you haven’t shown that you can be trusted.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped, a few tears slipping down his cheeks as he absorbed her words, feeling the weight of her expectations. “But… but I have been good,” he whimpered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lori’s expression turned firm as she looked at Peter, her tone taking on a sense of finality. “Peter, as long as you’re under my roof, you’ll follow my rules—and that means the cage stays on. You have plenty of potential, and maybe this will give you the motivation you need to focus on your grades and set your sights on a good job. One day, when you’re out on your own, I’ll have no more to say about it. But until then, this stays on, and we’ll do it together, one a week, into the toilet, if you’ve behaved and haven’t earned any spankings that week.”

She gave him a small, encouraging smile, though her words left no room for argument. “Once you have your own place, you can play with yourself until it falls off for all I’ll have to say about it. Until then, though, you’re here, under my guidance, and it’s staying on.”

Peter swallowed, feeling a mixture of resignation and determination as he nodded slowly. The reality settled over him; if he wanted his freedom, he’d have to work for it, focus on his future, and make his own way in the world.

Lori gave Peter one last, pointed look, as if to remind him of the responsibilities he still had to fulfill. “Alright, Peter,” she said, her voice calm but resolute. “There’s plenty of housework that needs your attention. I expect everything to be spotless by the time I’m done with James here.”

Peter nodded, feeling a mix of resignation and quiet frustration, but he knew better than to protest further. “Yes, Mom,” he replied quietly, turning to head toward the kitchen to start his chores. He could hear James chuckle softly behind him.

As Peter busied himself with scrubbing, sweeping, and tidying up, he couldn’t help but notice the muffled sounds coming from down the hall. Lori and James had retreated to her bedroom, the door closed, but every now and then, a faint laugh or murmured word drifted into the quiet house, underscoring the stark difference between his duties and their freedom to enjoy each other’s company.

His cheeks burned as he caught the faint but unmistakable sounds of the creak of the bed moving rhythmically. Each sound intensified the flush on his face, a mix of embarrassment and helplessness settling over him as he scrubbed and polished, unable to escape the intimate scene playing out just out of sight.

His mind wandered despite himself, imagining what might be happening behind that closed door, the closeness they were sharing, the freedom they both had while he remained here, fulfilling his duties. The rhythmic creaking grew more pronounced, each soft sound a stark reminder of his position in the house, adding to the warmth in his cheeks as he tried, and failed, to block it out.

After what felt like an eternity, Peter heard the bedroom door open, and he looked up just in time to see his mother, hair tousled and cheeks flushed, walking James to the door. She wore a silk robe, loosely tied, and it was clear from her disheveled state that she had just spent a rather intense time with him. The glint in her eyes and the slight smile tugging at her lips spoke volumes, adding to Peter’s embarrassment.

James glanced over at Peter, a smug grin spreading across his face, clearly aware of the effect this was having. He gave Peter a mocking wink as he stepped into the hallway, adjusting his collar as he looked between mother and son with an air of satisfaction.

“Thanks for a great time, Lori,” James said, his voice smooth as he leaned down, giving her a lingering kiss on the cheek. Lori smiled back, her hand resting on the door as she watched him leave.

As James stepped out, Lori turned her attention to Peter, who stood there with a flushed face, unsure of where to look. She gave him an appraising glance, clearly noticing his discomfort.

“Well, Peter,” she said, tying her robe a bit tighter, though the relaxed satisfaction in her gaze was still evident. “I trust you kept up with your chores while we were occupied?”

Peter swallowed, nodding quickly, feeling the warmth in his cheeks deepen as he avoided her gaze. “Yes, Mom,” he mumbled, feeling every bit of the boundary she had set between them throughout the week.

“And remember Peter,” Lori  said, her tone firm but calm, “I expect you to continue behaving if you want to keep your weekly privileges. Any slip-ups or disrespect, and you’ll lose those privileges immediately. And if it comes to that…” she paused, letting the weight of her words sink in, “…you’ll find yourself right over my knee again.”

Peter’s face flushed even deeper, a pang of embarrassment shooting through him as he recalled the last time she’d made good on that promise. The thought of losing his weekly release, as little as that already was, was enough to make him nod quickly, feeling a renewed determination to keep himself in line.

“I know, Peter,” she said, her tone steady, “that having your own mother be the one to unlock you, only to release you herself into the toilet, might not be everything you hoped for. But as far as I’m concerned, it’s all you have right now.”

She gave him a small nod, as if underscoring the finality of her words. “So, if you want to keep even that small privilege, you’ll need to be on your best behavior, or it’ll be no release at all. I hope that’s clear.”

With that, she gave him a slight nod, turning back toward her room, leaving Peter standing there, feeling both the weight of his responsibilities and the lingering flush of embarrassment.

[Continued in Part 4]