Locktober Pt. 07

A note before Locktober: This story involves adult chastity and interracial cuckolding. If that's not what you came for, this is not the month, or story, for you. Everyone here is an adult. Nothing that follows is a brief for real life. It is a story about a lock, a marriage, and what happens when comparison walks in.

************

(Saturday morning, Week 2-Days locked-13)

"One minute!"

Patrick grimaced at his wife, sounding like some perverse drill sergeant. He was trying to enjoy the minute of fleeting freedom, pleased that his four inch penis was responding to his hand, lavishing his finally freed pink stalk with soap and water.

"Thirty seconds!"

Patrick recoiled as he watched her ringed hand enter the shower and turn the water deathly cold.

"Come on K!"

"It's easier to get it back on this way," she said flatly.

Patrick hated that his academic mind agreed with her. It was easier to fit his flaccid manhood in the cage, they'd learned after a few difficult mornings trying to corral his stubborn erection. He sighed as he watched his excited four inch penis succumb to the frigid flow, retreating against his groin.

Defeated.

Karen smiled with satisfaction as she snapped the daily photo of Patrick's penis, once again imprisoned in the ruby-red chastity cage.

"No one ever became extremely wicked suddenly," he thought to himself, the Juvenal quote ringing in his brain as he watched his young wife admiring the evidence from her co-workers, the dings from the group chat singing in their bathroom.

"So maybe an early lunch," she asked.

"Sure, we can decide on things we want to do on the trip, have some time together," he added. Still uncomfortable with the thought he would be apart from his wife that evening.

"I know some things I want to do," she said grinning.

"You can always unlock me now," Patrick replied.

"No chance lover boy," his wife replied, fidgeting with the key to his chastity cage, dangling between her breasts.

"Darn it," he growled as he fought to raise his khakis over his bloated, pained package. Even the slight metal kiss from his zipper was like a zap to his aching, constrained manhood.

"Cream," Karen asked knowingly.

"Please," Patrick replied, his mind settling on the fact that his beautiful wife would be applying the soothing ointment, the brief touch a strange respite from the toils of Locktober.

************

"Heads up Doctor L!"

Patrick moved aside in the tunnel leading to the field, the team was in an uproar, the crowd at a fever pitch.

And he just wished he was at home watching a nature documentary with his wife.

He watched as they filled past him. The team, the coaches, the mascot.

He waited until the tunnel was empty and headed out to join them on the sideline.

The lights, the fans in the stands, the marching band.

It was all so loud.

He looked up to the box, catching Dean Wither's attention, they shared a wave and then the older man gave him a thumbs up.

"Doctor L, need water!"

"Doctor L, make sure the ref's good!"

"Doctor L, go adjust his pads!"

Patrick scurried around the sideline, feeling far below his station, as he helped the team prep for the start of the game. He hadn't been on the detail in years.

He hated sports.

"Move," a massive offensive lineman growled gruffly as he headed onto the field for the team's first drive. Patrick half considered scolding the huge black man as he staggered aside, but thought better of it.

His mind drifted to Karen, she was probably similarly wishing she was home with him, enjoying a quiet night together.

**********

"It's super loud in here!"

Karen leaned across the booth in the bar. She hadn't expected Renee would want to meet at such an active place for their conversation. She was expecting quiet drinks. The place was more like a nightclub.

"You don't like it," Renee yelled back as she leaned to meet Karen across the table.

"What," Karen yelled back.

She watched as Renee made a face and scooched along the leather booth until they were close together.

"You look super hot tonight," Renee said with a smile.

Karen had opted for a conservative dress, black, her hair styled perfectly. Patrick wolfed at the outfit when she finished dressing.

"Hot date," he said.

"Stop," Karen scolded as she felt his hand on her hip, "I just don't have anything that can wrangle the girls."

She fought with her ample breasts at the opening of the dress, she huffed at the inevitable cleavage her large assets provided, even when she didn't want it.

"Thanks," she said shyly to the leggy brunette.

Renee had no such pretense for conservative dress. The front of her gold-squinned outfit plunged, dangerously, revealing her tanned, toned torso. Her hair was too done up, quaffed even, like she was planning on peacocking. Her makeup was perfect, misty and mysterious. Her athletic legs showed as she shifted in the tight booth.

"This is the hottest spot in town," Renee said as she took the straw of her martini in her mouth.

"I thought we're going to talk about... you know..."

Renee smiled, "All in good time girl, let's dance first!"

"I don't..."

Karen's protest died as Renee took her hand and hip checked her from the booth.

"We're getting you out of your comfort zone tonight, K," she cackled as they headed to the cramped dance floor.

**********

Patrick watched the field, though his mind was elsewhere as the first quarter came to a close. Devon had just ripped off a long run, putting the team in range of a touchdown that would give them the lead.

"Yo, Doctor L," the black athlete said as he ran to the sideline, looking like a gladiator in his pads, helmet and cleats. He lorded over the smaller professor, smiling at him through the face guard, "Having fun?"

Patrick looked up at the towering athlete as he replied, "Yes, lots."

"A little different than class," Devon said.

"A different battlefield," Patrick replied.

"Can't talk my way outta this," Devon crowed, placing a huge, sweaty hand on Patrick's vest.

"Have a good game," Patrick cried as Devon went to join his teammates.

For a brief moment, Patrick was lost in a sea of massive bodies as the team huddled between quarters. He found himself looking up, squirting water into a face mask at their command, leaning over to tie a shoe. Whatever they needed. Every time he moved he felt the squeeze of the cage on his penis. The numbing pain ever present. He steadied himself with the knowledge that no one would hear the clink of the device as he moved around the raucous sideline.

Or the near constant drip, wetting the front of his khakis.

***********

"What about those guys," Renee said, loud even though she had her arms over Karen's back, her hands clasped, keeping the young wife close as they danced to some heavy club beat.

"No," Karen moaned as she followed Renee's eyes to two large black men who looked like they were holding up the bar. Their eyes watching the dancing pair.

"Can we just talk," Karen said finally, as the song changed.

"Okay grandma," the older woman scolded as she released Karen and followed her back to their booth.

"You think our drinks are okay," Karen asked as they settled in.

"Live a little sweet girl," Renee replied, taking a sip from her drink, "It's fine, I was watching the whole time."

Karen tried to keep a brave face as she took a sip from her martini, she usually favored wine, and the strong alcohol was already having an effect.

"Not used to grown up drinks?"

"Did you bring me here to demean me," Karen replied, taking a long, brave sip, her eyes on Renee the whole time.

"Sorry," she huffed, running her flat hand over her face, "bitch-mode deactivated."

Karen cracked a smile.

"So, how are you making out this month," Renee mused as she teased the olive in her glass, "Like... really."

Karen let the question wash over her as she felt the buzz from the martini.

"It's, I don't know, so different."

Renee paused her with her long finger, "Girl, specifics."

Karen noticed the paleness of her ringless finger against her tanned skin, her eyebrow furrowing at the sight. She inhaled, a part of her relishing the opportunity to relieve the strange burden that sat on her shoulders.

"It's been... strange in ways. I've never been in control, like ever. I find myself, kind of, gravitating to it."

"Mmm hmm," Renee hummed, her eyes questing for more, "And how about..."

"Patrick," Karen answered for her.

Renee smiled, "He's the tall one?"

"Glasses, mustache, older," Karen said.

"Right," Renee replied, "The professor."

Karen smiled at the recognition, "He's... well geez, he's doing what I ask. But he doesn't make it easy."

"Pouting," Renee said.

Karen nodded.

"Trying to sway you?"

Karen nodded again.

Renee looked at her glass, her lip curling, "That was Bradley."

"Your husband doesn't like it either," Karen asked.

"Like it," Renee asked seemingly amused at the words, "No, I suppose he doesn't like it. But he does it. We've been at this a long time."

"Chastity?"

"Ownership," Renee corrected. She shook her head, Karen thought it might be from embarrassment.

It was something else.

"I learned long ago that my Bradley needed to be... led."

"How so," Karen replied, leaning in, her interest peaked.

"In his defense, I suppose he didn't really know what he was buying when we married. Bradley was... controlling at first. I was his prize. He loved having me on his arm. But I'm not the type to be tamed."

Karen's eyes were wide as she shook her head involuntarily.

"And so..."

Renee's eyes seemed to light up, "And so, I set about fashioning him, and our relationship, into something that could work for both of us."

Karen's eyes beaded at the words. Renee sounded like she had bridled some wild animal. Her friend's eyes beamed with pride as she watched Karen take in the statement.

"So, like, how did you do it," Karen asked, in a tone so intrigued, it flew from her mouth before the thought could fully form.

Renee cocked her head as she responded, "That's a story that deserves a second cocktail," she lifted her hand and smiled as a waiter made his way towards the table.

**********

"Yo, not water. Gatorade, dude!"

Patrick fell to the grassy field as he fumbled with the poorly labeled water bottles, squirting them to turf until one came out orange.

"Here you go," he said politely, handing it to a muscle bound linebacker.

"Thanks bro," the black man said.

Patrick looked at the scoreboard. The sideline was buzzing after halftime. The team was in a tough game, tied up, the opportunity to remain undefeated the main topic of conversation as the game restarted.

"This must be weird for you..."

Patrick felt the huge shadow over his shoulder as he watched the defense take the field.

It was Devon.

"H-how so," Patrick stammered as the huge, sweaty black man moved to stand beside him.

Devon's hands gripped his shoulder pads at the neck as he continued, "In class, you're like, the man. But out here... in all this... you seem a little out of your element."

Patrick pursed his lips as he nodded, "That obvious?"

Devon laughed, "No man has a right to be an amateur in the matter of physical training."

Patrick looked at the hulking running back, his mouth falling open.

"Socrates, you are listening..."

Devon smiled as he turned back to the field, "Sometimes."

"Sometimes," Patrick asked.

Devon turned.

Patrick joined him.

The huge athlete pointed his finger at a group of young, female co-eds, hanging on the metal bar in the stands, their eyes on them both. But their pointing, and girlish giggles were surely for Devon.

"Hard balancing it, alls I'm saying," Devon crowed as he waved at the group, eliciting a wild, giggling frenzy amongst the girls.

"To be young," Patrick mused.

"To be me," Devon added as he grabbed his helmet, "Now watch this next play, Doc, it's gonna be a banger."

Patrick stole a glance back at the girls who seemed to be watching Devon's every move. He shook his head and watched as the play started.

Devon ran down the right sideline, the quarterback gave a solid pump fake and then heaved the ball thirty yards to the wide open running back. Devon caught it and raced towards the end zone, the crowd erupting as the team took the lead.

He lifted his hands and celebrated with the team for a moment. Karen flashed in his mind. He lowered his hands. He watched as Devon ran to the sideline, celebrating with his teammates.

Such reverence.

Such power.

Such a leader.

Patrick turned and caught Dean Withers eye, the old man giving him another excited thumbs up.

************

"So let me get this straight," Karen said, trying to nurse her current martini. Her body radiating from the strong drinks Renee seemed to keep ordering every few minutes, "You basically just do whatever you want and then Bradley waits on you hand and foot?"

Renee was looking around the room, her eyes seemingly searching for something, before settling back on Karen.

"It wasn't always that way. But, you've seen it. The way your husband waits on you, how he defers to you. You said he's licking you every which way now. What you're getting this month is my everyday."

Karen's face reddened at the words.

Renee pushed on.

"He wants it Karen. He's basically telling you."

"Only at home," Karen mused.

"So change it," Renee blurted, "Next time you're out, don't let him order for you. Shit, order for him!"

Karen waffled, "He would never..."

Renee placed her hand on hers, "Babe, I've clocked it. It's already done. The month has done the hard work. You just have to take what you want..."

Karen lifted her eyes from their hands and asked, "And what's that?"

Renee's tweezed eyebrows raised, "I mean you said the big dildo cracked you open."

"Renee," Karen cried, a part of her wishing she'd never overshared after the second martini.

"I'm serious," the office harlot continued, "There's guys out there, guys that really know what they're doing..."

"Like Demetrius," Karen said, softly but direct. She watched as the accusation landed. She was taken aback at Renee's callous look.

"You heard about the picnic," she said through a warm smile.

"And the late nights," Karen added.

Renee replied, "I have a type, what can I say?"

Karen's response was flat, almost lifeless, "Patty's my type..."

They were quiet for a moment, both scanning the crowd. Maybe it was the drinks, but some part of Karen was curious. She spoke as quietly as she could in the bumping night club.

"Is Demetrius... you know... endowed?"

Renee's head fell as she looked at the innocent young housewife.

"Girl," she said with a smirk. She placed her hands before Karen's eyes and widened them, impossibly long.

"Shut up," Karen blurted in disbelief.

"And thick too," Renee added, "Like... beer can thick..."

"Jesus Renee," Karen stuttered, feeling the drinks, "How do you even..."

The slutty programmer shook her head with satisfaction and pride in herself, "Lube girl, lot's of lube..."

Karen moved her hand to her mouth at the thought. She'd hadn't seen another penis besides Patrick since her first year of college. And she struggled to believe that any man could be that large.

"I don; t think I could ever take something like that," Karen mused, trying to remain demure in her co-worker's eyes.

Renee's eyes filled with mischief as she downed her martini, "Well see about that, time to dance again!"

***********

Patrick's mind was barely on the game as he finished collecting a few discarded mouth guards. He found himself watching.

Observing.

He'd eye one of the players, strangely the black ones, as they turned to the crowd. His eyes would scan and every time he'd see a young white girl, or a group of them looking back. In his mind it was an academic study in this strange nature he found himself in. There was no intellect here, simply physical prowess and the obvious identification from the opposite sex that they preferred it. There were no long talks about the world. No intellectual conversation. Just pure animal magnetism. He felt almost out of body on the sideline. A voyeur to some ritual, some contest far past him.

For a moment he felt meek. Almost waiting for the next direction from one of the players that during the day listened to him as he taught.

"Errghhh," he croaked as the cage jolted. He reasoned it was the attractive co-eds lining the field. He made a disgusted face as he felt the familiar leak of his angry, imprisoned penis.

The feeling perplexed him as the fourth quarter waned and the game got tight.

***********

"I swear to God, don't," Karen hissed.

Renee was ignoring her as she watched her friend wave over the two black men from earlier. Karen's mind told her to run, but the alcohol, and Renee's easy presence, stayed her feet.

"Hey boys," Renee cooed as the two giant men sandwiched in between the pair, "Were looking for some fun!"

Karen's body jumped as she felt a huge hand around her waist. She placed her small hand on a giant tricep.

"Tell him no," something deep cried.

"I love this song," the man whispered, "Care to dance?"

"Y-yes," Karen said back.

She felt Renee's hand slip from her grasp as the black man spun her away. Karen took one last look at Renee, who mouthed, "Have fun."

Karen scowled as she was whisked away.

She tried to think as the man pressed his huge body against hers. Her soft curves mashing against his chiseled torso. His moves were cat-like, his leg moved to plant and she found her leg wrapping around his as they spun around the dancefloor.

Each time, her brain would tell her the right thing to do.

But before she could speak, the man would move behind her. She felt his jeans against her ass, something pressing against her flesh beneath the denim. The way his arm draped over her, pulling her close.

His breath on her neck.

"Please," she whispered.

"More," he asked.

"Yessss," she hissed as he placed his huge hands on her hips and pushed her soft body against him.

The song changed, slower, the beat still thumping. She felt the man's facial hair on her neck as he stooped. He placed his huge hand on her chin, lifting it.

"They're having fun," he said, drawing her eyes to Renee and her partner.

It was lewd. Unbecoming.

The man had both hands on Renee's ass as he held her suspended in the air. Their tongues were dancing like their bodies. Right there in the middle of the dance floor. For anyone to see.

"You want to try that," the man asked.

Something broke in Karen, the freedom of the night away from Patrick. Everything she had learned. The heat pulsing in her loins.

"Yessss," she croaked, wanton, liberated.

Before she could speak she was airborne. The black man spun her. All the sudden she was next to Renee, their bodies touching. Their eyes met. Smiles.

Karen leaned her head back, feeling the rush of drunkenness in her face.

Her body tensed as her hands roamed, feeling the man's muscular back.

Then, his soft lips on her neck.

"Ahhhh," she uttered as a rush of wetness dampened her panties.

He kissed again.

Her breathing deepened. She was lost in the moment. Her eyes flashed to the huge black dildo waiting for her at home. Then, Demetrius. Her thighs were quaking. Her hair was in her face. Her dance partner lowered her slightly. Their faces almost touching. He opened his mouth.

Something blared.

The ruby-red chastity cage.

Saturdays.

Patty.

She turned her head sharply. Her eyes rolled in ecstasy and, strangely, annoyance.

The man's lips again found her neck. The other side now. His mouth leaving a mark no one could see.

She felt her feet touch the sticky dancefloor as the song ended.

"I liked that," the man said, leaning down to meet her conflicted face.

"I... I did too," she replied, her body tingling as they disentangled.

"My apartment's close," the man said, his dark eyes telling the story of what would happen next.

"I... I can't... I'm married."

She looked at him, hoping the ring flashing between them on her finger would slow his advance.

"That's too bad," he said, his voice confident and still hopeful.

"I know," Karen replied, her eyes widening at her words, "I mean... thank you for this..."

"Another time," he asked, their arms lengthening as they faded from one another, their fingers just barely touching.

"I," Karen stammered, unsure, her body answering for her mind, "Maybe."

The man smiled at her before he faded back towards the bar.

Karen rejoiced as Renee appeared, similarly out of breath, her smile beaming.

"You little skank," the office harlot chided.

"I need another drink," Karen replied. Renee took her by the waist and guided her back to their table. Karen chanced a look over her shoulder. The man was still looking at her. Her body buzzed as they made their way back to the booth.

**********

The crowd's roar was shaking the stadium. Devon had made another amazing play at the end of the game to put the team in field goal range. Patrick had paused cleaning up trash on the sideline, his academic mind exhausted as he yearned for home. The kick was true. They had won. The team remained undefeated. And the crowd rejoiced.

Patrick stayed on the sideline as the fans finally petered out. He watched as the black players came to the edges of the field, connecting with their adoring fans, mostly the girls who were practically jumping over the barricade.

A voice behind him made him jump.

"See I told you it would be good for you!"

Dean Withers was waddling up the sideline, a smile gracing his aged face.

"That you did," Patrick replied, accepting a high five from the dean.

"Great game, you see, see the joy they bring. We need more of that."

Patrick nodded, "Yes sir. Do you need anything else from me?"

Dean Withers smiled as he accepted a few handshakes from the coaches as the team filed back into the tunnel, "Yes, actually. The boys usually leave the locker room a fright. Can you make sure it's in shape for tomorrow?"

Patrick slouched, thinking of Karen. She was probably waiting for him back home. He felt a longing for the normal Saturdays they'd shared just a few weeks ago. Before the whole Locktober madness. A smile crept across his face as he thought of tasting her later.

"Pat," Dean Withers asked.

"Oh, of course sir. You got it."

***********

"So tell him everything..."

Karen lifted her head, slumped against her forearm. Tiredness and endless martinis taking their toll.

"Wssshhh, why would I do that," Karen slurred.

"He wants you too," Renee chided, "Are you really going to spend the next few weeks sneaking away to enjoy your new friend by yourself?"

"I'm," Karen said softly, her martini breath strong, "You think it's okay?"

I don't think," Renee purred, finishing her drink, "I know."

Karen shook her head, that drunken, too fast, shake, "I don't know..."

"He yearns for you, remember," Renee added, recalling Karen's words, "So make him prove it."

Karen's mind was muddy as she weighed Renee's alcohol-fueled musings. The night had been a study in the office harlot's ways. Karen had hated the woman. Her co-workers told her to. The evidence was there. But Renee seemed so free.

Living her life.

Taking what she wanted.

Getting what she needed.

"Just... just try it tonight," Renee added, "What's he gonna say? No?"

"Okay," Karen said, as soberly as she could.

"Good," Renee said, her head moving towards the bar, her finger lifting.

Karen's tired eyebrow raised as the two men from the dancefloor approached the table. Renee looked at them and then back at Karen.

"You can find your way home right?"

Karen felt the ache in her body, unused to late nights out, more conditioned to curling up on the couch and being in bed by nine.

"You sure you can't stay," her dance partner asked.

"God he's hot," Karen's mind blared with a sudden wanton lust, the moment from the dancefloor rushing back.

"N-no, I shouldn't," she moaned, "Gotta get back to Patty."

Renee looked at her, the men had flanked the skinny woman on either side, almost pulling her back to the dancefloor, "She's got a big night ahead."

A warning suddenly rang in Karen's mind as she eyed her amorous friend, "Renee, you won't tell anyone about..."

They shared a knowing glance as the older woman smiled at her.

"Your secrets safe with me."

************

Patrick sat on the bench by the lockers. The hiss from the showers the only sound.

The celebration and speeches from the coaches had long since ended. Devon had gotten the game ball, the team crowing.

Patrick found himself in awe of the black athlete as he watched him turn and give the ball to the weedy, white freshman kicker that had kicked the winning field goal. He nodded as he stood against the wall at Devon's leadership.

He had finally finished throwing away the discarded Gatorade cups, placed the helmets at the corresponding lockers and thrown the strewn about uniforms and jockstraps into the laundry bin.

He heard them over the steady shower water.

"Gonna get lucky tonight," a deep voice crowed.

"Them bitches can't get enough," another roared.

"Too many girls, not enough time," a deep familiar voice added.

Patrick's stomach sank as the shower turned off. His body went rigid, the cage along with it, as he stood and moved swiftly towards the locker room door.

"Doc L, that you?"

"Oh no," Patrick thought as his hand was on the door handle.

Patrick turned as his eyes widened. The players, led by Devon were naked, toweling off their wet, chiseled bodies. Patrick felt a knot in his throat as his eyes went lower.

The three players' penises looked huge. Patrick's brain tried to reason as he unconsciously compared what was before his eyes with some medical study to explain it. Even soft they were larger than his penis when hard. They drooped and sagged, swaying as they walked, powerful even in repose.

"Doc?"

Patrick tried to act normal as he croaked, "Y-yes, just, uhh, cleaning up."

"Cool," one of the players said, tossing him a used towel.

Patrick caught it as his eyes blared.

"You Franklin, chill dog. This is Doctor L, he's cool."

Patrick beamed at the compliment, helping to relieve his mind at the awkward moment.

"The philosophy dude," one of the players asked.

"Yeah," Devon replied, walking over to the short, out of shape professor, "He's helping me pass."

"So you got more time for the bitches," Franklin yelled.

Everyone laughed.

Patrick chuckled, trying to fit in. He fought his eyes as they wandered again to the team captain's giant, veined, sluggish cock. The cage tightened and Patrick fought a grimace as he felt Devon's wet hand on his shoulder.

"Doc knows the deal," right?"

Patrick nodded, another gulp settling his throat.

"Y-yes Devon, of course."

"Cool," the huge, naked black man replied, politely folding his towel before handing it to Patrick.

"Yo, have fun with your old lady tonight," Devon crowed as he turned to saunter confidently back to his locker," She's finer than a motherfucker."

Patrick was trying not to shake from the pain in his cage as he stood collecting the remaining towel from the third athlete. The compliment settled somewhere foreign in the older professor.

"T-thank you," Patrick gasped.

"See you Monday Doctor L," Devon replied, his tone dismissing the older husband.

"Thank you sir," Patrick tried to catch the word with his hand as it floated through the locker room.

The room grew silent.

Patrick felt his leg shake at the unbearable squeezing of his caged penis.

"Have a good night guys, you earned it," he said, retreating, trying to regain some semblance of authority in the awkward moment. He bolted from the locker room, his brain wrestling with his words, the strange feelings of the night overwhelming his academic mind and the dribbling of "waste" coming from his clearly perturbed penis.

***********

Patrick fumbled with the lock, he tried Karen's phone but it went straight to voice mail. It was close to midnight, he'd gotten to his car when an assistant coach had approached him, he'd left his keys on the field. Firing up the stadium lights was a process and even with the lights, it took another thirty minutes to find the coaches keys.

And all he could think about was Karen waiting for him.

"K," he called as he entered. His eyes scrunched at the flickering yellow hue in the living room.

"Candles," he asked to himself.

His ear picked up the quiet, smooth jazz from his record player.

"Kenny G," he noted. The sights and songs were like a time machine, traveling back to his life before the Locktober bet. Like a normal Saturday.

"Hey..."

Patrick's eyes followed his wife's soft voice to the hallway leading to their bedroom.

"K... my god," Patrick gasped.

Karen's bodies flickered in the candlelight. She was wearing a black lingerie-set Patrick had bought for her on Valentine's Day a few years ago. The bra strained as it tried it best to support the heavy curve of her breasts. The panties sheer beneath her slight belly. Garters ticked against her thighs as she walked. Her hips dimpled from the tight fabric, bulging excitedly with each sway. Her hair was down, her skin shined with make up. She was a shrine in motion, the gift he had won all those years ago.

"I missed you," she purred.

"God," Patrick's voice cracked as the cage bit, "Y-you look... is this for me?"

Karen lifted slightly on her toes as she bit his ear, before whispering, "I have something that is going to help both of us..."

Patrick could smell the mixture of alcohol and toothpaste on her breath, feeling a strange unease run down his spine, as his eyes focused on one of Karen's arms behind her back.

"She's smells amazing," he told himself as he helped himself to a handful of her lingerie-clad breasts. Maybe Renee had convinced her to drop the bet. Maybe she was finally coming around. Patrick reasoned for a moment that she had to be unbearably horny too, having not felt his penis inside her for weeks.

"I have something to show you," she said, her voice sounding like she was weighing telling him something.

Patrick's eyes grew wide, his face falling as she moved her arm from behind her back.

************