What He Wanted, What She Became Pt. 03

Drew was already on his knees when he heard the bathroom door open.

The bedroom was dim--just a soft light glowing from the corner lamp, casting long shadows across the floor. His body was tense, but still. Naked. Hands resting on his thighs, palms up. Eyes down.

His cock had already begun to harden just from the act of waiting.

But when he heard the first soft creak of latex--faint, sticky, deliberate--his breath caught.

And then he looked up.

There she was.

Faye stepped out of the bathroom like a vision. No longer exploring, no longer uncertain--commanding. The woman he had knelt for that first night was powerful, yes. But this... this was different.

She was sure of herself now. She moved like she had nothing to prove.

And everything to take.

Drew's heart thudded hard in his chest.

He scanned her quickly--first with hunger, then with awe.

There was the familiar black gleam of latex clinging to her arms and legs--gloves and stockings, just like before. The way they caught the light, hugging her limbs like they were sculpted just for her, made his cock throb instantly.

But then his eyes flicked upward, and he realized something was missing.

The dress.

That stunning, sculpted black latex dress--the one that had nearly broken him the first time--wasn't there.

For the briefest second, he felt it. A tiny flicker of disappointment, like a missed note in a perfect song.

But it vanished just as fast.

Because what was there made his breath stop entirely.

She wore a black lace bra, delicate and dark, the cups sheer enough to tease, but firm enough to lift her breasts like an offering. Her matching panties were cut high, barely covering anything, resting just above the gleaming edge of her stockings.

It wasn't the latex dress. It didn't need to be.

It was her.

And the way she moved--the gentle peel of latex against the hardwood floor with each step, slow and purposeful--made it almost worse. More intimate. More real.

Drew felt his cock spring to full attention, aching, proud, already twitching with anticipation. He lowered his gaze back down to the floor instinctively, heat crawling across his skin.

The soft sounds of her steps grew closer--each one a slow, wet whisper of latex pulling free from wood.

By the time she reached him, he could barely breathe.

And yet--he didn't speak.

He waited.

Because tonight, she wasn't asking.

She was owning.

Faye paused in the doorway, just for a moment.

He was exactly where she'd told him to be.

Naked. Kneeling. Obedient.

His back was straight, shoulders slightly tense, fingers resting perfectly on his thighs. His head bowed, but his eyes up and glued on her like a man seeing an oasis in the middle of the desert after days without a single drop ff water. And there--she could see it. The way his cock stood hard and flushed, desperate already, without a single touch.

God.

A wave of heat rolled through her. Not just arousal--power. Control that buzzed beneath her skin, coiling in her stomach, pulsing low between her thighs. This was no longer just a fantasy they were trying on. This was real.

He belonged to her.

And he knew it.

Her stockinged foot peeled softly from the floor as she stepped forward. Another step. Then another. Deliberate. Slow.

She watched him twitch slightly as she neared. Beyond the godly picture she was representing, he was feeling something more, her presence, her aura, her ever growing power.

She let the silence stretch a little longer. Just to feel the weight of it.

Then, finally, her voice--low, velvety, calm.

"Disappointed you didn't see the dress again?"

Drew tensed visibly, as if caught in a thought he hadn't dared admit.

Faye smiled.

"I know you were hoping for it," she continued, circling around him slowly now. "The shine. The tightness. The way it hugged my ass while you knelt and couldn't touch."

She stopped behind him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body just out of reach.

"But I needed to move tonight," she said softly. "Your punishment requires a little more... flexibility."

Her gloved fingers ghosted across his shoulder, barely a touch.

"That doesn't mean I forgot what you like."

She stepped in front of him now, her body close enough that he could smell the faint scent of latex and her skin, warm and clean beneath.

Her voice dropped just slightly.

"In fact," she said, "if I'm going to keep dressing for your desperation, I'll need options. Lots of options."

Drew looked up slowly, eyes wide, lips parted.

Faye's smile deepened.

"Bras. Panties. Stockings. Gloves. Catsuits. Corsets. Dresses so tight you'll cry. You're going to buy it all for me."

His throat bobbed with a hard swallow.

"Because I want to be able to dress however I please before I ruin you."

She leaned forward, her fingers sliding under his chin, tilting his head up to hers.

"I expect you to give me the tools to drive you mad."

His breath shuddered out of him.

"Yes, Faye," he whispered.

Her brows lifted slightly.

He corrected himself instantly.

"Yes, Mistress."

She kissed his forehead, her tone still soft but threaded now with steel.

"Good boy."

She watched his face for another few seconds--how flushed he was, how wide his eyes had become. The way his breath shivered across his lips, barely controlled. His cock, red and full and twitching slightly, pointed up toward her like a helpless offering.

Faye let her gaze linger there for a beat. Then she exhaled, slow and deliberate.

"That," she said calmly, "is very flattering."

Drew didn't move.

"But unfortunately," she continued, "you don't get to stay like that."

His eyes flicked up toward her again, confused.

"As part of your punishment," she said, circling him once more, "and more importantly because I want to, we're going to take care of that little problem."

She stopped just behind him, and her gloved hand came down gently on his shoulder.

"You're going back in the cage."

He gasped softly--but didn't argue.

"Only for the weekend," she added, her tone almost thoughtful. "Until Sunday night. You don't have to be in the office. No meetings. No risk. Just me... reminding you who owns your pleasure."

Her fingers slipped down the nape of his neck, then back to the base of his spine.

"And if you're good," she whispered, "you'll get your reward on Sunday."

She stepped in front of him again and looked down.

"But first," she said with a small smile, "we need to make sure your cock is... manageable."

Drew's breath hitched.

"Crawl," she said, pointing toward the bathroom. "On all fours. Now."

He moved instantly, obediently, hands and knees on the hardwood, his arousal swinging visibly beneath him with every movement. Faye followed behind slowly, latex whispering with every step.

The bathroom lights were bright against the tile. Faye turned on the shower, adjusting the handle until the water ran cold--truly cold.

Then she stepped aside.

"Get in."

Drew hesitated, but only for a second. Then he climbed into the tub, shivering slightly at the temperature.

She reached in with her gloved hand and guided the spray, holding it steady on his cock.

He hissed, flinched--but didn't move away.

"Let it go," she said softly. "Let the heat drain out."

She watched the way his body tried to resist--twitching, fighting--but eventually, it obeyed. His cock softened under the icy stream, twitching once before fully retreating.

Faye cut the water.

"Stay there."

She dried her hands briefly, then walked to the cabinet and retrieved the cage. Small. Black. Familiar.

When she returned, he was still standing in the tub, dripping, quiet.

"Come here," she said, holding the device in one gloved hand, the ring in the other. "Let me lock you."

He stepped out onto the bath mat, still slightly shivering, and stood still as she knelt gracefully and began to assemble the device. Her movements were calm, practiced now.

"Two days," she reminded him, fitting the ring behind his balls, sliding the shaft into the cage. "And not a second less."

He moaned quietly as the lock clicked into place--that sound again. Final. Intimate. A promise.

She stood and looked at him. Smiled.

"Good boy."

Then she turned sharply.

"Now back to the bedroom. Crawl. Kneel. Wait."

And without another word, he walked ahead, leaving her behind him--his Mistress, his keeper, his punishment yet to come.

Drew heard her footsteps before he saw her. That slow, steady peel of latex against the hardwood.

He was already kneeling at the foot of the bed, exactly where she'd told him to wait--naked, caged, obedient.

The cage was tight now. Unforgiving. Cold from the water, but somehow burning with frustration. His cock throbbed inside it, helpless and red, straining against every unforgiving edge. He was so hard it hurt. And he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

When she entered, he didn't dare look up.

But he felt her presence--looming, elegant, wrapped in latex and lace.

"Up," she said simply. "On the bed. Over my lap."

He obeyed instantly.

The sheets were cool beneath his knees as he climbed up and laid himself across her thighs. Her lap was warm, her latex stockings slick beneath his bare skin. His cock pressed awkwardly against his cage, trapped between his legs and the mattress, while his ass was exposed--vulnerable, waiting.

She ran one gloved hand over his back. Slow. Comforting.

And then she spoke.

"This is your first punishment," she said, her voice calm. "So I'm being gentle."

A pause. Her hand lifted.

The first slap landed with a sharp crack.

Drew jerked slightly. The sting bloomed across his right cheek, hot and instant--but bearable.

She continued.

"But in the future," crack, "I won't always be."

Another strike. Left side this time.

"And if I'm going to be punishing you regularly," she said lightly, "I'll need proper tools."

Crack.

"I won't always wear out my hands spanking you."

Her voice curled with amusement now. "Floggers. Paddles. Crops. You'll buy them for me too."

Crack. Crack.

He groaned, hips twitching involuntarily.

And you'll thank me when I use what you bought to hurt you."

Crack.

His skin was burning now. Each impact echoed, deep and bright across his body.

But underneath the pain--he felt her. Her thighs beneath him, firm and warm. Her gloved hand steady on his lower back. Her voice in his ear, shaping his thoughts as much as his body.

"Now repeat after me," she said.

She brought her hand down again--hard.

"I don't own my cock."

Drew gasped, the pain blooming deep--but he forced the words out.

"I... I don't own my cock."

Crack.

"You do."

"You do, Mistress."

Crack.

"I come only when you allow it."

"I come... only when you allow it."

His ass was stinging now, burning hot against her smooth latex thighs. But something in him had cracked open--something raw and grateful and free.

Crack.

"Every transgression is punished."

"Every... transgression is punished."

"And you're being soft on me tonight."

Another pause.

Then, slowly, voice shaky but sincere, Drew echoed:

"You're being soft on me tonight."

She rubbed his skin now, still warm, the sting sinking in like fire.

"That's right," she murmured. "Because this is just the beginning."

His breath trembled, and he let himself sink fully into her lap.

His ass burned. His cock ached, caged and pulsing. His skin throbbed from the sting of her gloved hand. But wrapped over her thighs--held, owned, corrected--Drew had never felt closer to her.

Faye paused for just a moment, looking down at his flushed skin--his ass now hot and glowing under the soft light. Her gloved hand rested lightly on the curve of his lower back, anchoring him, holding him exactly where he needed to be.

He was still breathing hard, chest rising and falling in short, shallow bursts. His cock was caged and pulsing, his thighs trembling. But he hadn't moved. Not once.

She smiled.

Then raised her hand again.

Crack.

He let out a sound--part gasp, part moan--and pressed his forehead deeper into the sheets.

Crack.

"I want you to feel this," she said softly, her voice like silk wrapped around steel. "To remember it next time you think about coming without permission."

One more--sharp and deliberate.

Crack.

Drew whimpered, and Faye could feel the last little resistance in him melt. He wasn't holding anything back now. Just taking. Just yielding.

"Good boy," she whispered, stroking his burning skin gently.

Still holding him firmly over her lap with her left hand, she leaned over and reached for the drawer of the nightstand. She opened it calmly, deliberately, and took out a small, discreet bottle of lube.

She set it on the mattress beside them, then uncapped it and squeezed a small amount into her palm--right over the latex. The cool gel glistened as it spread across the shiny surface, and she rubbed her fingers together slowly, warming it.

Her left hand moved again, gliding up his spine, grounding him with the soft creak of latex.

"Breathe for me," she murmured.

He obeyed, his breath still shaky, but deeper now.

"In... and out."

Her fingers spread, still slick with lube, and she let them trail gently down the curve of his ass.

"You're going to relax now," she said, her tone quiet but unyielding. "You're going to stay right here in my lap and let me open you. Let me take you. Because you're mine."

And then... He felt the slippery tip of her latex clad fingers at the entrance of his hole. She pushed gently, but with intention. But he was so tight that it turned out difficult for her finger to really get in.

"Breath baby, just breath, inhale and exhale and relax" she softly and gently whispered, her tone still keeping a certain command, but he felt how this was no longer a punishment, that was passed. The spanking was, in a certain way, because a little part of him still enjoyed it. Now, it was all about something much deeper. His vulnerability, their evolving emotional connection and their new dynamic taking deeper and deeper roots, the epitome of their role reversal. She was gonna penetrate him and not the other way around.

His body relaxed a bit and her finger finally got slowly swalloed by his ass. It felt so strange to him at first, like he was literally going to shit himself. But that was obviously not going to happen, he knew it, he had read about it, it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

There was also some pain, as much as he absolutely loved how submissive, exposed, vulnerable he felt, the pain was there. But it was manageable and overshadowed by a subtle but growing pleasure enhanced by the absolute mental thrill of feeling her inside him.

She started slowing going in and out and after a few times, she heard her sweet boy start to quietly moan.

God.

It made her feel so so wet. SHE WAS FUCKING HIM. This was so hot. Yes it was only her finger, but she was doing it. She was so curious about pegging, it felt like the ultimate way to assert the femdom dynamic in a way, but obviously they had to start slow. And this was already having a bigger effect on her than she could have anticipated.

"Baby, you are doin so well how does it feel?" she gently asked him.

"It hurt a bit at first Mistress, but now I start to feel really good. Your finger inside me, well it makes me feel so exposed" he answered before letting out another muffled moan.

"To be honest, I am a bit ashamed of liking it so much, but it feels so so good, it feels so right in a way" he finally admitted.

"Oh sweetheart, there is nothing to be ashamed of, you are handsome like this, over my lap, taking it so well and I am glad you are enjoying it, because to also be honest with you, this view it is making me so so wet" she answered.

"Now keep breathing, I am going to add another finger and you are going to take it" she gently but firmly instructed.

And he felt the second invader at the entrance of his hole. Pushing his way in and he let out a gasp when it slipped inside. The pain increased for a bit but just like the first time, pleasure very quickly took over.

He closed his eyes, and focused on the sensation. How her two latex fingers started hitting just the right spot -- his prostate -- and how the pleasure started building up. He knew some guys could cum from having their prostate massaged, he hoped he could, probably not now but with some training hopefully. But that didn't matter because in any case, he didn't have permission to come and he intended to not repeat the same mistake.

His pleasure was hers and hers only. For now, he just tried to enjoy the moment as much as possible. His mind started drifting away, her fingers in him became familiar at some point, to the point that he didn't want them out anymore.

He didn't know how long it had been.

His skin still burned from the spanking, a warm, pulsing ache that kept him grounded. Her latex-clad thighs beneath him, her hand on his body, her two fingers probing his ass without rest, the sound of her voice guiding him from time to time, telling him how well he was doing--everything was her.

Her control. Her scent. The creak of the latex when she moved, the faint rustle of her stockings brushing against his side, the soft sound of her breath just behind him.

And he was losing it.

His cock, still locked tight in the cage, pulsed with every heartbeat--trapped, aching, insistent. The pressure was unbearable now. Not just physical--it was psychological. The denial, the helplessness, the sheer wanting of it.

And she hadn't even touched it.

But those fingers were doing god's work and making him more and more desperate. He couldn't help it anymore. He knew he shouldn't, wasn't allowed, but it slipped.

"Please," he whispered, barely aware he'd spoken.

She slowed down the motion. Her other hand pressed firmly on his back.

"Please what?" she asked, calm, collected.

"I need... I need to come," he breathed. "Please, Mistress. I--I can't--"

She carefully removed her fingers from his hole. He let out a shirt gasp.

"You did so well but I think that is enough for tonight" she said. "You agreed to give me full control, no orgasm until Sunday, you remember?"

She leaned in, her latex glove pressing even more firmly on his back.

"This is my cock now, I caged it, I decide when you come. You gave it to me" she murmured at his ear.

He whimpered, body trembling. "I--I did, but..."

"No release until Sunday," she said, her voice like a warm silk rope, wrapping tight. "That's the rule. We made it together."

Her hand slid slowly up his side, across his ribs, over his hip.

"You gave me your pleasure," she whispered. "You begged for me to take it. And now I have."

Drew let out a broken sound.

Her body--still wrapped in that black lace, those shining gloves and stockings--was too much. She looked like a goddess. She felt like power.

And he was desperate.

"I'll do anything," he gasped. "Anything. Please--just touch me, just let me--"

"No."

She didn't shout.

She didn't need to.

The word landed heavier than any strike.

Her gloved hand slid gently under his jaw, tilting his face to hers.

"You're mine, Drew," she said. "Every part of you. Even this need."

His eyes shimmered, body straining helplessly against the cage.

"And if I say you wait, you wait."

He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and nodded.

"Yes, Mistress."

She kissed the corner of his mouth. Tender. Absolute.

"Good boy."

Faye watched him closely.

His eyes were glassy now--raw with need, burning with frustration, trembling at the edge of full emotional surrender. His words had poured out of him like a dam breaking. And yes... it was adorable.

But also?

It was a mistake.

A sweet, desperate, beautiful mistake--but one she couldn't let slide.

Her hand moved from his jaw down to his throat--just enough pressure to remind him who held him there.

"I think you forgot something," she said, calm but firm. "Begging can be cute. But challenging me?"

Her thumb brushed against the pulse fluttering just beneath his skin.

"That's not acceptable."

Drew swallowed. "I--I didn't mean--"

"I know," she cut in gently. "But the rules don't disappear just because you're desperate."

She let him breathe there for a moment, soaking in that truth. Letting the burn of his denial--and her presence--anchor him again.

"I was going to let you use your mouth on me tonight," she continued, slowly standing. "But now... I've changed my mind."

His breath caught.

She walked across the room--deliberate, gliding, every step of her latex-clad feet whispering softly against the floor. Then she bent down by the bedside drawer and retrieved her favorite toy--sleek, curved, familiar.

She turned back toward him, the curve of her lips curling upward as she caught the way he stared.

"Because you took your punishment well... you'll still get a reward," she said. "But not the one you were hoping for."

She climbed onto the bed, settling back against the pillows, one leg stretched out, the other bent slightly at the knee. The lace of her bra hugged her perfectly. Her latex gloves gleamed in the low light.

"And you," she said, pointing to the foot of the bed, "will kneel right there."

Drew crawled into place, his eyes locked onto her. The cage pulsed with every breath.

"You don't get to touch," she murmured, pressing the head of the toy between her legs. "You don't get to ask."

She clicked the vibrator on--soft at first. A slow hum.

"But you do get to watch."

She met his eyes.

"And while you do... you're going to worship."

She extended her foot--latex stretching smoothly, toes pointed toward him, the sole just inches from his mouth.

"Lick," she said. "Show me you understand your place."

Drew moaned softly, lips parting as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the arch of her foot.

And as Faye began to pleasure herself, slow and sure, her eyes locked on his caged desperation, his lips moving reverently over the latex of her sole, she smiled.

Control had never felt so good.

The taste was... strange.

Warm. Faintly sweet with a synthetic edge. The latex of her stocking carried the memory of her skin--of heat and power--and it filled his mouth as his tongue traced the arch of her sole.

He could feel the soft creases of it, the subtle give beneath the stretch of rubber. His lips moved in slow, worshipful strokes, and the hum of her toy--steady and rising--vibrated through the air above him like a secret he wasn't allowed to share.

He was beneath her. Utterly. Not just physically, kneeling at the foot of the bed--but spiritually. In his mind, in his heart, in his body. Her pleasure was happening above him, inches away, and still impossibly out of reach.

And he was caged.

The ache was unbearable.

It pulsed with every beat of his heart. He was so full he couldn't think straight, so tightly locked that even the thought of being touched made him dizzy. And yet... this was his place.

At her feet.

His lips parted wider, and he took more of her foot into his mouth--sucking slowly, his tongue dragging along the sole, the latex slick now with saliva and reverence. He didn't know what he looked like. He didn't care. She had told him what to do. And that made it beautiful.

He heard her breathing change. Heard the pitch of the vibrator shift. Felt the subtle flex of her ankle beneath his mouth as her body began to tighten above him.

And that was when it hit him--how right this was.

He couldn't be inside her. He couldn't touch her. He couldn't come.

But he was serving her.

And that was enough.

His mouth was warm--soft and wet and worshipful.

She hadn't expected this part to feel so good. But there was something about the way his tongue moved over the sole of her foot, the way his lips pressed into the arch, the way he kissed the tip of each toe like it was sacred--that made her stomach twist in the best possible way.

It was indulgent. And ridiculous. And utterly, devastatingly perfect.

Her hand gripped the base of the toy tighter, and she let it press deeper into her as the sensation built--waves pulsing, low and hot and steady.

Her legs tensed, thighs trembling. The foot he wasn't kissing flexed, heel pressing into the sheets as her hips lifted.

She looked down at him.

Caged. Beautiful. Obedient. Desperate.

His mouth was still moving. Still licking. Still giving.

He wasn't asking for anything anymore. He was just there. Present. Submissive. Hers.

And that did it.

The first wave hit hard--her back arching, breath catching in her throat as her orgasm tore through her. She bit her lip, a low, guttural moan escaping her chest, her hand frozen as her body shook with release.

Another wave followed--then another. Her thighs clenched around the toy. Her toes curled in his mouth. And still--he stayed. Licking. Sucking. Worshipping.

She gasped his name once--then let it fade into a long, broken exhale.

Her body fell back against the pillows.

And for a moment, there was only the sound of her breath, the low hum of the toy still fading between her legs... and the soft, devoted movements of his mouth on her foot.

She smiled.

There was no going back now.

For a long moment, all she did was breathe.

Her body was still humming, every nerve buzzing with the aftermath of release. Her fingers were loose around the toy, the latex of her gloves tacky now with sweat and heat. Her chest rose and fell in slow, unsteady waves.

And at the foot of the bed, Drew was still there.

Still kneeling.

Still kissing.

Her foot rested in his hands like something sacred, and he continued to press slow, reverent kisses along the sole, as if he couldn't bear to stop--even after she'd come undone above him.

Faye smiled softly.

The high of power--the rush--was still there, but it was beginning to ebb. Like a tide pulling back and leaving something even deeper behind.

What remained was warmth.

Love.

Pride.

She slowly shifted her leg, gently pulling her foot from his mouth, and sat upright. Drew's eyes lifted toward her immediately--wide, glassy, vulnerable.

"You," she said, her voice softer now, "were perfect."

He swallowed, the cage still visibly straining between his legs.

"I'm so proud of you," she continued, reaching down to brush her fingers through his hair. "You took your punishment without complaint. You listened. You obeyed. You worshipped me like a goddess."

She tilted her head, amused.

"And you leaked, didn't you?"

Drew flushed, eyes dropping. A small, shiny trail had slipped from the head of his locked cock--barely anything, but enough.

Faye chuckled, slow and low. "You made a mess in your cage just from licking my foot? That's... adorable."

He let out a shaky laugh, embarrassed, but clearly turned on.

"I don't think you need any more punishment," she murmured, stroking his cheek. "Not tonight."

Then her voice shifted again--still in control, but quieter. Grounded.

"Come on," she said gently. "Get up on the bed. Lie down for me."

He obeyed instantly, crawling up and settling on the sheets, his breathing still uneven, body flushed and trembling with spent adrenaline.

She stood and stretched slowly, the latex of her gloves creaking as she flexed her fingers. The stockings clung tightly to her thighs, but her body was cooling now. The edge was gone. What was left was tenderness.

She turned to him, her voice calm but commanding.

"Wait here. I'm going to get cleaned up."

He nodded, barely whispering, "Yes, Mistress."

She leaned down and kissed his temple.

"And then I'll bring you a hot towel. You've earned it, my sweet boy."

The bathroom light was soft when she stepped inside--warm and clean and grounding. She peeled off her gloves first, one finger at a time, with practiced patience. The latex let go of her skin with a soft snap, sticky with heat and slick from sweat. She dropped them into the sink with a satisfying little slap.

Next, the stockings.

She propped one foot up onto the closed toilet lid and rolled the latex down her thigh, slow and careful, watching how it unstuck from her skin with every inch. It made her think of Drew's lips on her--the way he'd kissed the shine, the way he'd moaned when she moved. She smiled.

He was still hard in that cage. Still waiting.

By the time the second stocking was off, she could feel herself cooling--not just physically, but emotionally. The rush was gone. What was left was something just as satisfying.

Fulfillment.

She soaked a clean hand towel in warm water and wrung it out carefully until it was just damp enough--then turned off the bathroom light and walked back to him.

He was where she'd left him. On the bed. Quiet. Still.

His hands were resting loosely at his sides, his eyes half-closed. The tension in his shoulders had faded now into something softer--like his body knew the storm had passed.

She set the towel down on the edge of the bed and crawled in beside him, her body bare now, free of latex and lace. Just skin.

Just Faye.

Her hand slid up his chest and rested over his heart.

"Are you with me?" she asked gently.

Drew nodded, blinking slowly. "Yes."

She kissed his shoulder. "You did so well."

He exhaled shakily. "That was... a lot."

"I know," she whispered. "But you handled it beautifully."

She reached for the towel and folded it carefully, then ran it gently over his chest, down his belly, across his thighs--cooling the heat, wiping away the sweat, grounding him in small, thoughtful touches.

When she got to the cage, she paused--then smiled as she dabbed around it softly, almost teasing.

"You made such a mess for me," she murmured.

His cheeks flushed, but he didn't look away.

"That's how I know it's real," she added. "You don't just say I own you. Your body shows me."

She set the towel aside and pulled the blanket up over him, tucking it around his hips.

Then she curled against him, resting her head on his chest, her fingers lacing gently with his.

They lay there for a while, breathing together. No rush. No roles. Just presence.

"You're safe," she whispered.

"I know," he said. "Because I'm yours."

And Faye closed her eyes, heart full, already thinking about what she'd do to him on Sunday.

And with nothing left between them but warmth and quiet trust, they fell asleep in each other's arms--his body still aching, hers still glowing, both of them exactly where they belonged.