Grok 3 from Elon’s X.ai is now out, and it’s the best yet! Excellent storyteller, very little censorship, and can get really filthy if you ask it too! I took an old favourite for a spin to compare the results (image by Grok3 as well).
Clara had always prided herself on her intuition. It was a quiet strength, a compass that guided her through the chaos of life with David, her husband of twelve years. But lately, that intuition had been buzzing like a trapped fly against a windowpane—restless, insistent, impossible to ignore. It started with the late nights at the office, the faint whiff of perfume on his collar that wasn’t hers, the way his phone seemed to live face-down on the counter. She didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence stitched itself together into a tapestry she couldn’t unsee.
One rainy Tuesday evening, she found the thread that unraveled it all: a text message, carelessly left open on his screen while he showered. “Last night was amazing. Same time tomorrow?” The sender was labeled simply “J.” Clara’s stomach twisted, but her mind sharpened. She didn’t scream or cry. Instead, she waited.
When David emerged, towel slung low around his hips, she was sitting at the kitchen table, the phone resting beside a glass of wine she hadn’t touched. His face paled as he saw it.
“Clara, I—”
“Don’t,” she said, her voice steady as steel. “I know. And you’re going to listen.”
He sank into the chair across from her, eyes darting like a cornered animal. She leaned forward, her gaze pinning him in place.
“You’ve got two choices,” she said. “Divorce—clean, simple, and I take half of everything you’ve worked for—or you agree to a punishment. My choice. No backing out. You decide now.”
David swallowed hard. Divorce would gut him financially; they both knew it. His business was finally turning a profit after years of lean times, and he’d poured everything into it. He rubbed his jaw, avoiding her eyes.
“Punishment,” he muttered, barely audible.
Clara nodded, a faint smile curling her lips. “Good. You’ll see what that means in a few days. Until then, act like nothing’s changed.”
The next three days were a strange limbo. David tiptoed around her, his usual bravado replaced by a nervous compliance. Clara, meanwhile, planned. She wasn’t interested in vengeance for its own sake—she wanted control, a guarantee that this wouldn’t happen again. She spent hours researching, ordering discreet packages that arrived in plain brown boxes, her mind spinning with the shape of what was to come.
On Friday evening, she called him into the bedroom. The air was thick with tension as he stood in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets.
“Strip,” she said simply.
He blinked, hesitating, but the look in her eyes—unyielding, almost clinical—pushed him to obey. When he stood bare before her, she stepped forward with a small metal device in her hands. His eyes widened as he recognized it: a chastity cage, sleek and unforgiving.
“Clara, what the hell—”
“You agreed,” she cut in, her tone brooking no argument. “No backing out. This stays on until I say otherwise. It locks—don’t bother trying to get out of it.”
His protests died in his throat as she locked it into place with a soft click, the key dangling from a chain she slipped around her neck. Then she handed him a pair of lacy pink panties and a matching bra.
“Put these on.”
“Clara, come on—”
“Now.”
Face burning, he complied, fumbling with the unfamiliar garments. The bra hung awkwardly on his shoulders, the panties snug against his hips. He looked ridiculous, and he knew it, but Clara’s expression was unreadable.
“This is your new reality,” she said. “You don’t get to stray anymore. This—” she gestured to the cage and the lingerie—“makes sure of it. But we’re not done.”
The doorbell rang, sharp and sudden. David’s head snapped up, panic flaring in his eyes.
“Who’s that?”
Clara didn’t answer. She motioned for him to follow her downstairs, and he trailed behind, the rustle of lace against his skin amplifying his humiliation. When she opened the door, there stood Victor, their next-door neighbor. He was a retired firefighter in his late fifties, broad-shouldered and weathered, with a quiet strength that made David fidget even on normal days.
“Evening, Clara,” Victor said, his deep voice carrying a hint of amusement as he took in David’s attire. “This the project you mentioned?”
“It is,” Clara replied, stepping aside to let him in. “David’s agreed to a little discipline. I thought you’d be the right man for the job.”
Victor raised an eyebrow, then nodded. “Happy to help.”
David’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Clara pointed to the living room couch. “Over his knee, David. Now.”
Victor settled onto the couch with the ease of a man who’d handled tough situations before, his broad frame filling the space. He patted his thigh, a casual gesture that carried an unspoken command. David hesitated, the pink lace of his panties rustling faintly as he shifted his weight, the bra straps digging into his shoulders. His eyes darted to Clara, but her arms remained crossed, her expression a wall of resolve. With a shaky breath, he shuffled forward and stood in front of Victor.
“Hold on,” Victor said, his voice low and gravelly, laced with a mocking edge. He reached out and hooked his fingers into the waistband of David’s panties and yanked them down to his knees in one swift motion, exposing the chastity cage that gleamed faintly in the lamplight. Victor let out a rough chuckle, leaning down to inspect it. “Well, look at this. Locked up tight, huh? Guess you ain’t much of a man anymore, are you, princess?”
David’s face burned, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he tried to shrink into himself. Victor didn’t let up. “And what’s with this getup? Pink panties, a little bra—hell, you’re all dolled up like a proper little girl. That’s what you are now, ain’t it? A bad little girl who needs a good, hard spanking.”
Before David could respond, Victor pulled him down across his lap, the older man’s denim-clad legs solid beneath him. Victor’s hand came down—large, calloused, and unrelenting. The first smack landed with a sharp crack against bare skin, the sound bouncing off the walls. David jolted, a yelp escaping his lips, but Victor’s other arm pressed firmly across his back, pinning him in place.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Victor said, his tone dripping with condescension. “You’re gonna take this like the naughty girl you are. Bet you thought you could sneak around, didn’t you? Well, Daddy’s here to set you straight.”
The second strike was harder, a deliberate thud that left a stinging red imprint. David squirmed, his legs kicking uselessly, the panties tangling around his ankles. Victor didn’t pause—his hand rose and fell in a slow, punishing rhythm, each blow heavier than the last. The room filled with the relentless sound of flesh meeting flesh, punctuated by David’s gasps and stifled cries.
“Look at you,” Victor taunted, pausing just long enough to reach between his legs and run a rough finger along the edge of the cage. “All caged up and whimpering. What’s the matter, little girl? Can’t handle a real man’s discipline? Maybe you oughta pretty yourself up some more—put on some lipstick, flutter those lashes. Beg Daddy to stop.”
“Please,” David choked out, his voice cracking as another brutal smack landed, the pain blooming across his skin. “Please, stop—”
“Stop?” Victor laughed, a deep, mocking rumble. “Oh, no, sweetheart. You don’t get to call the shots. Say it—say ‘Please, Daddy, stop.’ Go on, let’s hear it from my bad little girl.”
David’s pride crumbled under the weight of the next strike, a blistering hit that made his whole body tense. “Please, Daddy, stop,” he mumbled, barely audible.
“Louder,” Victor barked, delivering two quick, searing smacks in succession. “I wanna hear it like you mean it.”
“Please, Daddy, stop!” David shouted, his voice raw, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. The spanking didn’t relent—Victor’s hand kept its merciless pace, each blow a thunderclap that turned David’s skin a deep, angry red.
“Not good enough,” Victor said, his tone hardening. “You’re gonna promise to be Daddy’s good little girl from now on. Say it—‘I’ll be Daddy’s good little girl.’ Repeat it till I tell you to stop.”
David’s breath hitched, the pain and humiliation intertwining as Victor’s hand crashed down again, harder still, the impact reverberating through him. “I’ll be Daddy’s good little girl,” he stammered, his voice trembling.
“Again,” Victor demanded, punctuating the word with a smack that made David’s toes curl.
“I’ll be Daddy’s good little girl.”
“Keep going.” Another strike, then another, the rhythm unrelenting, each one building on the last until David’s pleas blurred into a desperate chant.
“I’ll be Daddy’s good little girl—I’ll be Daddy’s good little girl—I’ll be Daddy’s good little girl—” The words spilled out between gasps and sobs, his body shaking as Victor’s hand continued its brutal work. The spanking stretched on, long and drawn-out, a marathon of discipline that left David’s skin raw and his spirit shattered. Victor’s taunts wove through it all, a constant thread of mockery—“That’s it, princess, sing for Daddy” or “Look at those tears, such a pretty little crybaby.”
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Victor paused, his hand resting heavily on David’s throbbing backside. “One more time,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Make it sweet, now. Convince me you’re gonna behave.”
David swallowed a sob, his voice small and broken. “I’ll be Daddy’s good little girl. I promise.”
Victor gave a satisfied grunt, landing one final, resounding smack that drew a ragged cry from David’s lips. Then he shoved him off his lap, letting him collapse onto the floor, panting and disheveled, the panties still bunched around his ankles.
“Good enough,” Victor said, brushing his hands together. He glanced at Clara, who’d watched the entire scene with an inscrutable calm. “Reckon she’s learned her lesson. For now.”
David remained on the floor, his breath ragged, his skin still ablaze from Victor’s relentless hand. The room hummed with a tense silence, broken only by the faint creak of the couch as Victor shifted his weight, his broad frame looming over the scene. Clara stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood, her presence a quiet storm in the aftermath of the punishment. She looked down at David—his tear-streaked face, the crumpled pink bra, the panties tangled around his ankles—and a faint, satisfied smile curved her lips.
“You’re not done yet,” she said, her voice smooth and deliberate, cutting through the haze of his humiliation. “Victor’s gone out of his way to help you learn your place. I think you owe him a proper thank-you.”
David’s head jerked up, his eyes wide with a flicker of dread. “Clara, please—”
“No,” she interrupted, her tone sharpening. “You don’t get to negotiate. You agreed to this—my rules, my choice. And I say you thank him properly.” She tilted her head toward Victor, who raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he caught her meaning.
“On your knees,” Clara ordered, stepping back to give him space. “Now.”
David’s hands trembled as he pushed himself up, the chastity cage a cold weight between his legs, a constant reminder of his diminished control. He hesitated, glancing at Victor, who leaned back on the couch, legs spread casually, his expression a mix of amusement and expectation.
“Go on, princess,” Victor said, his voice a low growl. “You heard your wife. Show Daddy some gratitude.”
David’s stomach churned, a wave of nausea rising as he grasped their intent fully. He’d never done anything like this—never even imagined it. The thought alone made his hands tremble, his palms slick with sweat as he stared at the denim stretched across Victor’s thighs. The older man chuckled, a rough, mocking sound, and shifted forward slightly, his fingers moving to the brass button of his jeans.
“Guess I’ll make it easy for you, princess,” Victor said, his tone dripping with condescension. He popped the button free with a practiced flick, the sound sharp in the tense silence. Slowly, deliberately, he dragged the zipper down, the metallic rasp grating against David’s nerves. Victor’s large hand dipped inside, and with a casual tug, he pulled himself free—a thick, stiff member, already swollen and imposing, springing out from the confines of the fabric. It stood rigid, the skin taut and veined, a daunting presence that made David’s breath catch in his throat. The sheer size of it, the coarse dark hair at its base, the faint musk that hit the air—it was overwhelming, alien, and terrifyingly real.
David froze, his eyes locked on it, his mind screaming in protest. “I—I can’t,” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper, cracking with panic. “Clara, please, I’ve never—”
“You will,” she cut in, stepping closer, her shadow falling over him. “You agreed to this. My punishment, my rules. Do it, or else.”
Victor leaned back, one arm resting along the couch, his erection jutting upward like a taunt. “Better listen to her, little girl,” he said, smirking. “Daddy’s waiting.”
Tears welled in David’s eyes, hot and humiliating, as he forced himself to inch closer. His hands hovered uselessly, unsure where to go, until Victor grabbed one and guided it roughly to the base, the heat and hardness shocking against David’s palm. “There you go,” Victor grunted. “Now open that pretty mouth.”
David’s lips parted reluctantly, trembling as he leaned in. The scent was stronger now, earthy and overpowering, and as the tip brushed against his tongue, he gagged instantly—a reflexive, choking sound that made his whole body shudder. The taste was bitter, foreign, coating his mouth as he struggled to take it in. Victor’s hand clamped onto the back of his head, fingers digging into his scalp, pushing him down with unyielding force.
“That’s it,” Victor growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Take it, sweetheart. You’re Daddy’s good little girl now.”
David’s throat tightened, the girth stretching his jaw painfully as he tried to breathe through his nose. Tears spilled down his cheeks, mingling with the saliva that dripped from his chin as he gagged again, the sound wet and desperate. He’d never felt so helpless, so utterly lost—his inexperience laid bare as Victor controlled the pace, thrusting shallowly, forcing him deeper each time. The older man’s member pulsed against his tongue, hot and insistent, and David’s stomach heaved with every inch he was made to take.
“Look at you, crying like a baby,” Victor taunted, his grip tightening. “Gagging on Daddy’s cock—what a sight. Bet you never thought you’d end up here, huh, princess? Keep going—don’t you dare stop.”
David’s sobs broke through, muffled and ragged, as he struggled to obey. His throat spasmed, his chest heaving with each choked breath, but Victor’s hand kept him pinned, relentless. The tears streamed freely now, his vision blurring as the ordeal dragged on, the taste and pressure overwhelming his senses. He wanted to pull away, to scream, but Clara’s presence loomed behind him, her silence a chain he couldn’t break.
“Swallow it all when it’s time,” Victor ordered, his voice dropping to a rough command. “Every damn drop, you hear me? Show Daddy how grateful you are.”
David’s mind spun, fracturing under the weight of it all—the pain, the shame, the sheer impossibility of what he was doing. His body moved on autopilot, tears falling onto Victor’s cock as he gagged and sobbed, the act stretching into a blurred eternity of submission. When Victor finally tensed, a low groan rumbling from his chest, David braced himself, the hot rush hitting his throat with brutal force. He choked, nearly retching, but Victor’s hand held him fast, forcing him to comply. He swallowed, the act mechanical and degrading, every drop a bitter seal on his defeat.
When it was over, Victor shoved him back, and David collapsed onto the floor, coughing and gasping, his face a mess of tears and saliva. Victor tucked himself away, refastening his jeans with a lazy smirk, and glanced at Clara.
Victor stood, stretching his broad shoulders with a satisfied grunt, his smirk lingering as he adjusted his jeans. Clara watched it all, her posture regal and unyielding, the key to David’s chastity cage dangling like a talisman at her throat.
“Well,” she said, breaking the silence with a voice that was calm yet edged with promise, “that was a good start. Victor, you’re invited back next week. Same time. Another spanking to keep him in line, followed by some… bedroom discipline.”
Victor raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity crossing his weathered face. “Bedroom discipline, huh? What’s that entail?”
Clara’s lips curled into a faint, enigmatic smile. “You’ll see. Let’s just say it’ll be a deeper lesson. Something to make sure he never forgets who he belongs to.”
David’s stomach dropped, a fresh wave of panic surging through him. He looked up at her, his voice hoarse and pleading. “Clara, what—what does that even mean?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she turned to Victor, ignoring David entirely. “See you next Friday.”
Victor chuckled, tipping his head in a mock salute. “Wouldn’t miss it.” With that, he sauntered out, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving David alone with Clara and the echoing weight of her words.
“Get up,” she said, her tone clipped. “Clean yourself up. You’ve got a week to think about what’s coming.”
The days that followed were a slow descent into torment for David. Every moment was shadowed by dread, his mind spinning with possibilities—each more terrifying than the last. “Bedroom discipline” hung over him like a guillotine, its vagueness amplifying his fear. He couldn’t ask Clara for details; she’d shut down every attempt with a cool, dismissive glance, leaving him to stew in his own imagination. The chastity cage chafed against him, a constant reminder of his powerlessness, and the pink bra and panties she made him wear under his clothes rubbed his raw pride as much as his skin. Sleep eluded him, his nights filled with restless tossing, his days with a gnawing anxiety that tightened his chest.
By Thursday, he was a wreck—jumpy, pale, barely eating. He tried to plead with her once, late at night, his voice small and desperate. “Clara, please, just tell me what it is. I can’t—I can’t handle not knowing.”
She’d looked at him over the rim of her wine glass, her eyes glinting in the dim light. “You’ll handle what I give you,” she said simply. “You made your choice. Now live with it.”
Friday arrived like a storm cloud, heavy and inevitable. When the doorbell rang, David flinched, his hands clammy as Clara opened the door to Victor. The older man stepped in, his presence filling the room, a faint grin tugging at his lips as he took in David’s trembling form.
“Ready for round two, princess?” Victor asked, cracking his knuckles with a deliberate slowness that made David’s knees weak.
Clara gestured to the couch. “Start with the spanking. Panties down, over your knee. Make it hard—he needs to feel it.”
David’s heart pounded as he obeyed, the ritual now achingly familiar yet no less degrading. Victor yanked the lace down with a rough tug, exposing him, and delivered a spanking that rivaled the last—long, brutal, and merciless. Each smack reverberated through David’s body, his skin turning a deep, throbbing red as he bit back cries, tears streaming anew. Victor’s taunts were a constant undercurrent—“Cry harder, little girl” and “Daddy’s just warming you up”—until David was a shaking mess, splayed across his lap.
When it was over, Victor shoved him off, standing with a grunt. “Now what?” he asked Clara, wiping sweat from his brow.
She stepped forward, her voice low and deliberate. “Now, the bedroom discipline. Upstairs. Both of you.”
David’s legs nearly gave out as he followed, his mind a whirlwind of terror. Clara led them to the master bedroom, the space suddenly foreign and foreboding. She pointed to the bed. “On your knees, David. Face down.”
David knelt on the bed, face down, his body trembling as he gripped the sheets, the sting of the spanking still pulsing through his skin. Clara stood by the dresser, her arms crossed, her eyes glinting with cold anticipation, while Victor loomed behind him, his belt already unfastened, the rustle of his jeans a menacing prelude. The older man stepped closer, his broad shadow falling over David, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he pulled his thick, stiff cock free—eight inches of rigid intimidation, veined and heavy, swaying slightly as he adjusted his stance.
Victor smirked, looking down at David’s quivering form. “Alright, princess,” he said, his voice a rough growl laced with mockery. “You’re gonna lube this up for Daddy. Spit’s all you’re gettin’, so you better lay it on thick—‘cause that’s the only mercy this little girl’s gonna feel.”
David’s head snapped up, his tear-streaked face paling as the words sank in. “W-what?” he stammered, his voice a high, shaky whimper, his eyes darting between Victor’s imposing member and Clara’s impassive stare.
“You heard him,” Clara said, her tone sharp and amused. “Get to it. You don’t want it dry, do you, little girl?”
Panic flared in David’s chest, his breath quickening as he realized the stakes. Desperation overrode his shame, and he scrambled to obey, leaning forward on his knees, his hands trembling as they hovered near Victor’s cock. He pursed his lips, forcing a glob of saliva to drip from his mouth, landing with a wet splat on the tip. It glistened faintly, but it wasn’t nearly enough, and the sight drew a deep, rumbling laugh from Victor.
“Pathetic,” Victor chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s all you got? Come on, sweetheart, slobber it up—I ain’t goin’ in with a dainty little drip like that.”
Spurred by fear, David redoubled his efforts, spitting again—harder this time, a thick stream that splattered across the shaft, dripping down its length. His hands darted forward, smearing the saliva frantically, his fingers sliding over the hot, veined surface as he tried to coat every inch. His movements were clumsy, almost frenzied, and the wet, squelching sounds only fueled Victor’s amusement.
“Ha! Look at her go!” Victor roared, his laughter booming as David’s hands rubbed faster, his face flushed with humiliation. “She’s polishin’ it like a damn pro—bet you never worked this hard for anything, huh, princess?”
Clara’s laughter joined his, a cold, cutting sound that made David flinch. “Oh, look at him,” she taunted. “So eager to please now. Where was that effort when you were sneaking around, huh?”
Desperate to avoid the pain he knew was coming, David leaned in closer, his breath hitching as he opened his mouth and took the tip inside. He sucked sloppily, his tongue swirling as he forced more spit to pool around it, gagging slightly at the taste and the sheer size pressing against his lips. Drool spilled down his chin, coating Victor’s cock in a slick, messy sheen, and he pulled back only to spit again, his hands still working feverishly to spread it.
Clara clapped her hands, her laughter sharp and delighted. “Oh, that’s perfect,” she said, stepping closer to get a better view. “Look at you, David—such a good little girl, slobbering all over Daddy’s cock. You’re practically begging for it now.”
Victor grinned, grabbing a fistful of David’s hair to hold him still as he admired the glistening result. “That’s more like it,” he said, his voice thick with approval. “Nice and wet—guess you really don’t want it to hurt too bad, huh? Too late to back out now, though.”
David pulled back, panting, his chin dripping with saliva, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at the now-slick shaft. He’d done all he could, but the reality of what was next loomed like a nightmare. Victor released his hair, giving his cheek a mocking pat.
“Good girl,” Victor said, positioning himself behind David. “Let’s see how that holds up.”
Clara’s smile widened, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “You’re about to learn your place, princess. All that spit won’t change what’s coming.”
David whimpered, his breath hitching as Victor went behind him, his rough hands seizing his hips, yanking him into position. The first press came—a blunt, unyielding pressure against him, the tip of Victor’s thick shaft nudging insistently. David tensed, his body instinctively resisting, but Victor’s grip tightened, and with a slow, deliberate push, the first inch breached him. It was a sharp, burning sting, and David squealed—a high, girlish sound that spilled from his lips unbidden.
“Oh, listen to that,” Clara taunted, stepping closer, her voice dripping with mockery. “Such a dainty little cry. You’re not a man anymore, are you? Just a cheating little girl getting what she deserves.”
Victor grunted, forcing another inch inside, the stretch intensifying as David’s body fought to accommodate him. His legs quivered, his toes curling against the sheets, and a sob broke free, high-pitched and pitiful. “Please,” he gasped, his voice trembling like a scolded child’s. “It hurts—”
“Keep going,” Clara ordered, ignoring him. “He needs to feel every bit of it.”
Inch by agonizing inch, Victor pushed deeper—three, then four—each advance a slow, searing invasion. David’s cries grew shriller, his face buried in the mattress as tears soaked the fabric, his body shaking with each new depth. At five inches, he let out a keening wail, his hips twitching uselessly against Victor’s iron hold. “Too much—please, stop!” he squeaked, his voice cracking into a feminine lilt.
Clara laughed, a cold, cutting sound. “Too much? You didn’t think it was too much when you were sneaking off with her, did you? Take it, little girl. You earned this.”
Six inches now, and David’s sobs turned frantic, his breaths coming in short, girlish gasps as the pain mingled with a humiliating fullness. His fingers clawed at the bed, his back arching involuntarily, and when Victor reached seven, he shrieked—a shrill, desperate sound that echoed off the walls. Finally, with a low growl, Victor thrust the full eight inches inside, his balls pressing flush against David’s trembling flesh, buried to the hilt. David screamed, a high, broken cry, his entire body quaking as he felt the overwhelming depth, stretched beyond anything he’d ever known.
“There we go,” Victor rumbled, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Balls deep, princess. How’s that feel, huh?”
David couldn’t answer—his words dissolved into a series of whimpering sobs, his face a mess of tears and snot, his body pinned and helpless. Clara leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper. “Look at you, crying like a proper little slut. This is what happens when you cheat, David. You get fucked like the girl you are now.”
Victor didn’t pause. With David fully impaled, he began a relentless rhythm—pulling back only to slam forward again, each thrust a punishing jolt that rocked David’s frame. The pace was merciless, a steady, brutal fucking that drove the air from his lungs. His girlish squeals morphed into a continuous wail, his voice rising and falling with each impact, his body jerking helplessly beneath Victor’s weight. The bed creaked violently, the headboard thumping against the wall as the assault stretched on, minute after punishing minute.
“Please—mercy!” David finally sobbed, his voice a ragged, feminine plea. “I can’t—I can’t take it anymore!”
Clara smirked, crouching to meet his tear-filled eyes. “Oh, you can, and you will. But if you want it to end, beg Daddy properly. Tell him to cum inside you. Go on, little girl—say it. It’s the only way this ends for you.”
David’s resistance shattered, his mind fraying under the relentless onslaught. “Please, Daddy,” he whimpered, his voice small and broken, each word punctuated by a thrust. “Please—cum inside me—please, Daddy, I can’t—”
“Louder,” Clara snapped, her tone sharp. “Make him believe it.”
“Please, Daddy!” David cried, his voice a high, desperate shriek. “Cum inside me—please, Daddy, do it—I beg you!”
Victor’s grip tightened, his breaths growing ragged as he drove harder, faster, the rhythm building to a crescendo. With a guttural groan, he buried himself fully one last time, his release flooding David with a hot, overwhelming rush. David keened, his body shuddering as he felt it, his tears flowing freely, his submission complete.
Victor pulled out slowly, leaving David collapsed and sobbing, a trembling wreck on the bed. Clara stood, her expression one of cold triumph. “That’s your lesson, princess,” she said. “Cheat again, and it’ll be worse. You’re mine—inside and out. See you next week, Victor.”
The week had crawled by for David, each day a slow drip of dread pooling in his gut. Clara’s cryptic promise of Victor’s return had haunted him, her silence on the details only sharpening his fear. By Friday evening, his nerves were frayed to threads, his body tense as he stood in the master bedroom, awaiting her next move. The door creaked open, and Clara entered, her expression a mask of cool authority, followed by Victor, whose broad frame filled the doorway, his grin as predatory as ever.
“Strip,” Clara commanded, her voice crisp. David hesitated, his hands trembling, but her sharp glance silenced any protest. He shed his clothes, leaving only the pink bra and panties she’d forced him to wear all week, the lace now a second skin of shame. “Panties down—halfway,” she added, pointing to his thighs. “Let’s see that cage.”
With a shaky breath, he complied, sliding the fabric down until it rested at half-mast, the chastity cage exposed—a gleaming, humiliating shackle that made his cheeks burn. Clara nodded, satisfied, and gestured to a spot near the foot of the bed. “Stand there. At attention. Don’t move a muscle unless I say so.”
David shuffled into position, his legs stiff, arms rigid at his sides, the panties sagging awkwardly around his thighs. His eyes darted to Victor, who was already unbuckling his belt—not to drop his jeans, but to pull it free with a slow, deliberate tug. The leather slithered through the loops, a soft hiss that made David’s stomach lurch. Victor didn’t speak; he simply draped the belt over the back of a nearby chair, its buckle glinting in the lamplight, a coiled threat within arm’s reach. The message was clear: move, and pay.
Clara turned to Victor, her demeanor shifting—less the cold enforcer, more a woman in command of her desires. “Come here,” she said, her voice softening as she stepped toward the bed, shedding her blouse with a casual grace. Victor’s grin widened, and he moved to her, his hands finding her waist as she pulled him close. Their lips met, a hungry, unhurried kiss that deepened as Clara tugged at his shirt, peeling it off to reveal the muscled expanse of his chest.
David stood frozen, his breath shallow, watching as Victor’s hands roamed Clara’s body, unfastening her skirt, letting it pool at her feet. She wore nothing beneath but a black lace bra and panties—ironic, David thought dimly, a twisted mirror of his own attire. Victor’s jeans hit the floor next, kicked aside, and soon they were entwined on the bed, a tangle of limbs and low murmurs. Clara’s sighs filled the air as Victor kissed her neck, her breasts, his hands guiding her thighs apart with a practiced ease.
“You see this, David?” Clara said suddenly, her voice cutting through the haze of their intimacy, her head tilting to fix him with a taunting stare. “This is what a real man does. Not some sneaking, cheating little girl like you.”
Victor chuckled against her skin, his fingers tracing lazy circles as he glanced at David. “Stay put, princess,” he drawled. “Wouldn’t want Daddy to have to use that belt on you.”
David’s legs trembled, but he didn’t dare shift an inch, the belt’s presence a silent whip cracking in his mind. His eyes burned with unshed tears as Victor entered Clara—slowly at first, then with a steady rhythm that made the bed creak, her moans rising in pitch. The mattress rocked beneath them, inches from where David stood, his cage a cold, mocking weight against his exposed skin. Clara’s hands gripped Victor’s shoulders, her nails digging in as she arched into him, her pleasure a stark contrast to David’s mute suffering.
“Watch closely,” Clara gasped between breaths, her eyes locked on David’s. “This is what you’ve lost. You’re just a caged little sissy now—stand there and take it in.”
Victor’s pace quickened, his grunts mingling with her cries, the headboard thumping against the wall in a relentless cadence. David’s knees locked, his body rigid as a statue, the panties slipping lower with every involuntary twitch he suppressed. The belt gleamed in his peripheral vision, a constant warning, and his heart pounded as he fought the urge to collapse, to flee, to do anything but stand there and witness his own erasure.
When Clara’s climax hit, her voice rang out—a sharp, triumphant sound that pierced David’s chest. Victor followed moments later, a low growl rumbling from his throat as he stilled, their bodies pressed together in the afterglow. They lay there, panting, ignoring David entirely until Clara looked up, her hair tousled, her smile cruel.
“Good boy,” she said, her tone dripping with condescension. “You didn’t move. Maybe you’re learning after all.”
Victor rolled off the bed, his breath still heavy from exertion, and Clara sat up, her skin flushed, her eyes glinting with a cruel satisfaction. The sheets fell away as she shifted, spreading her legs wide, her thighs glistening with the mingled evidence of their passion. She looked at David, still standing rigid at the foot of the bed, his panties sagging at half-mast, his cage a humiliating centerpiece, and a slow, wicked smile spread across her face.
“Time for cleanup duty, princess,” she said, her voice a silken command. “Get over here. On your knees. You’re going to lick me clean—every drop of me and Victor. Go on.”
David’s stomach lurched, his legs nearly buckling as the order sank in. He hesitated, his eyes pleading, but Clara’s gaze hardened, brooking no defiance. “Now,” she snapped, spreading herself wider, the scent of their combined juices hitting the air.
With a choked sob, he dropped to his knees, crawling forward until his face hovered inches from her. Victor, pulling on his jeans, let out a booming laugh, the sound rough and mocking. “Look at her go,” he said, reaching for the belt still draped over the chair. “Little cleanup girl—ain’t that a sight?”
David’s tongue darted out, tentative at first, brushing against her slick folds. The taste hit him—sharp, musky, a bitter blend of Clara’s arousal and Victor’s release. He gagged, his girlish whimper muffled as he forced himself to lick, his hands trembling on the mattress. Clara sighed, leaning back on her elbows, her head tilting as she watched him work.
“That’s it,” she purred, her tone dripping with condescension. “Get it all, David. You don’t get to miss a spot—not after what you’ve done.”
Victor stepped closer, the belt now doubled in his hand, the leather creaking as he flexed it. “Let’s give her some motivation,” he said, his grin widening. Without warning, he swung, the belt cracking against David’s exposed ass with a loud snap. David yelped, his cry high and feminine, his tongue faltering as the sting bloomed across his already tender skin.
“Lick harder, princess,” Victor barked, landing another whip, the leather biting into him with a sharp thwack. “Daddy wants it spotless.”
David’s tears fell freely now, dripping onto Clara’s thighs as he lapped faster, his tongue delving deeper to escape the pain. Each stroke of the belt—crack, crack, crack—drew a squeal from his throat, his body jerking with every hit, but he didn’t dare stop. The mingled juices coated his mouth, his chin, his humiliation complete as Victor’s laughter filled the room.
“Listen to her squeak,” Victor said between swings, the belt painting red stripes across David’s ass. “Squealing like a little pig while she cleans up Daddy’s mess.”
Clara moaned softly, her fingers threading through David’s hair to hold him in place. “Good girl,” she taunted, her voice breathy. “You’ll learn to love this. Keep going—don’t you dare stop.”
The whipping continued, a relentless rhythm that matched David’s desperate licking, until his sobs were a constant, broken melody. When Clara finally pushed him away, satisfied, her legs closed, and Victor gave one last, hard lash, dropping the belt with a clatter.
“Clean enough,” Clara said, wiping a hand across her thigh. “Stay there, David. On your knees. Think about what you’ve tasted—what you’ve lost.”
Victor chuckled, buckling his belt back on. “See you next time, cleanup girl,” he said, heading for the door, leaving David crumpled, his mouth stained, his ass welted, and his spirit shattered under Clara’s unyielding rule.
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