My name is John, though I go by rgjohn, and I’ve written a few erotic books and some content for Literotica. When Emma read my work, she suggested I write about loving, female-led relationships—a genre she’s passionate about. It’s been a while since I’ve written, but a fan recently reignited my interest by asking me to turn his detailed journal into a story. Initially skeptical, I found myself captivated by his account of a Female-Led Relationship (FLR), a concept I hadn’t explored before. With a mix of curiosity and research, I’ve decided to craft a multi-part story spanning over 20 chapters. If you are just starting, you should begin your journey back at chapter 1.
That night, we slept in separate beds again. Though the cage was becoming more bearable, sleeping on my stomach due to my sore backside made it challenging.
Friday morning, I was up early, preparing breakfast when I turned my head and watched as Anna walked into the kitchen. Since she wasn’t going to work, she was still wearing her night outfit, which consisted of a silk camisole with matching panties. I immediately felt the impact in my cage.
I felt her behind me as I went back to cooking. Her first move was to inspect the welted marks across my backside.
“It doesn’t look any worse,” she said softly. “I hope it doesn’t scar.”
“It feels about the same,” I replied honestly. “But I don’t care if it scars. If it does, it’ll just remind me of you.”
She frowned slightly. “No, you’ve got such a cute little ass. I don’t want the skin to be marred. I’ll have to research how to avoid scarring.”
Her hand reached around in front of me and lifted the hem of my apron. “Oh, you still have the cage on?” she asked, capturing it with her hand. She lifted the cage gently, her fingertips cool against my sensitive balls.
“Is it uncomfortable?”
“It can be,” I admitted. “But they say you get used to it after a while. I’m getting there.”
“Well,” she said thoughtfully, “I’ve decided I like the idea. It’s a mix of punishment and control, and I think I can really get into it.”
“I’m committed,” I said firmly. “I won’t take it off unless you tell me to, no matter how uncomfortable it gets. This one should work until we get a custom-made cage. I’ll measure myself and order one in a few days.”
“Good. Just make sure it doesn’t cause any problems with your skin,” she said. “But honestly, I don’t like it when you cover it up. I want to see it... it’s exciting to know what you’re giving up for me.”
I said, “Well, I don’t want to get hot grease on naked thighs, or especially my little guy.”
She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly grin as she reached into the junk drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors. “I have an idea. It’ll protect everything… except your little guy, unfortunately. At least it solves most of the problem.”
When I saw the scissors, I exaggerated a look of horror. “Are you going to cut it off so it doesn’t get burned?” I teased.
She laughed, a genuine, amused sound. “Not yet. For now, I’ll just make it more… visible.”
With a few quick snips, Anna cut a neat hole in the front of my apron. She then reached through and pulled my caged penis and balls out into the open.
“There. Problem solved,” she said with a triumphant grin before firmly cupping my exposed balls in her hand.
“It solved the problem for you, but it kind of defeats the purpose of an apron,” I said.
"Maybe," she replied, her smile teasing. "But I love how vulnerable it makes you look with you balls exposed like that. Most people don’t realize just how much power those little things hold over a man and how delicate they are. It doesn’t take much to bring one to his knees."
Before I could respond, she gave my exposed balls a light smack. Though it was barely more than a tap, a sharp, immediate pain shot through me, amplified by the cage and my complete exposure. I gasped involuntarily.
“Sorry, did that hurt?” she asked, her voice dripping with mock innocence, her grin betraying her intent.
“No, not at all,” I shot back sarcastically, still wincing.
She giggled softly, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Back to work,” she said, spinning me around with a playful force and landing a smack on my already-sore ass. I couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped me. Without missing a beat, she turned back to the table and sat down with her newspaper and settling in as if nothing had happened.
I served her breakfast and opted to stand by the counter with my coffee rather than sit at the table. Watching her eat, flipping through the paper, was mesmerizing. Anna is breathtaking... far beyond what I deserved. Her face, her hair, her eyes, her figure all of it captivated me. And somehow, since we’d started this journey together, she seemed to have become even more beautiful. Nothing had changed physically, yet she glowed in a way that felt undeniable. Whatever we were doing, it suited her perfectly.
I could feel my caged penis try to stir, the pressure was both frustrating and exhilarating.
Anna glanced up, catching my gaze. “What are you staring at?” she asked, her tone light and playful.
“My beautiful wife,” I answered without hesitation.
“It’s not polite to stare,” she said, a small, knowing smile on her lips.
“I can’t help it. If you promise to stop being so gorgeous, I’ll promise not to stare,” I teased.
She chuckled softly and returned to her newspaper, completely at ease.
As I stood there looking at her, I knew it was time to hand her the keys. This was more than a moment; it was a crossroads. Handing her the keys to my cage wasn’t just symbolic, it was transformative, a commitment beyond even our marriage. It was trust and surrender wrapped in one. There would be no turning back, for me or her.
Heart pounding, I picked up the keys from where I’d left them on the counter. I’d placed them on a thin chain, imagining she might want to wear them if she chose.…
