Tamara sat back in her chair, her dark eyes glinting with a mischievous sparkle as she swirled her glass of wine. Ryan sat across from her, his hands neatly folded on the table. He had made her favorite tonight—grilled salmon with lemon and dill, roasted asparagus, and a light quinoa salad. The meal was perfect, but Ryan wasn’t eating much. His stomach tightened the way it always did when Tamara had that particular tone in her voice—the one that suggested a shift, a test, a deepening of their already complicated dynamic.
“I have a surprise for you tonight,” Tamara said, her tone light but weighted with unspoken meaning.
Ryan’s eyes lifted toward her, cautious. “I’m listening,” he said carefully. His voice was steady, but inside he felt that quiet flutter of anxiety that often came when Tamara introduced something new into their relationship.
“Tomas is coming over,” she said simply.
Ryan’s heart skipped. He set down his fork. His mouth felt dry. He wanted to ask why, but he already knew. Tomas had been a presence in their marriage almost since the beginning. Ryan had accepted early on that Tamara’s sexual appetite was greater than he could satisfy. He was an attentive lover—kind, generous—but he didn’t have the raw, primal energy or physical dominance that Tomas had. Tomas was taller, stronger, more experienced. Tomas gave Tamara a kind of fulfillment that Ryan had learned to accept he couldn’t provide.
They had agreed to an open marriage—a halfway open one. Tamara saw Tomas regularly, and Ryan had learned to cope with the quiet ache that came from hearing Tomas’s car pull into the driveway and knowing what was happening behind closed doors. He loved Tamara deeply. They connected in a way he had never experienced before, and he would rather share her than lose her.
“I want to explore a new dynamic with him,” Tamara said, setting down her glass and resting her chin in her hand. “Are you open to trying something new with me?”
Ryan hesitated. He had always been reluctant to hear details about what happened between Tamara and Tomas. That was their space. His role was to love Tamara, to provide her with emotional security and stability—but the physical side had always been something separate. Still, there was something in her tone tonight—something softer.
“I… I don’t know,” Ryan said honestly.
Tamara smiled gently. “No questions. Just trust me.”
Ryan’s heart thudded against his chest.
“Do you consent, sweetheart?”
He hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He knew this was a turning point.
“Yes,” he whispered.
Tamara’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, my love.”
Tamara’s smile widened. “Good boy.”
They finished dinner quietly. Ryan’s mind raced, his appetite gone. He had no idea what he had just agreed to, but he trusted Tamara. He always had. He always would.
A knock at the door.
Ryan’s body tensed. He knew the sound of Tomas’s car, the steady, confident knock. It had haunted him before. Now, it felt heavier. Tamara tilted her head toward the door.
“What are you waiting for, Ryan? Let Tomas in.”
Ryan stood, legs a little shaky as he crossed to the door. When he opened it, Tomas was standing there—broad shoulders, dark hair neatly trimmed, a faint scent of cologne trailing behind him. Ryan’s eyes immediately dropped to the floor as Tomas stepped inside.
“Hey, Ryan,” Tomas said, his tone easy.
Ryan mumbled, “Hey.”
Tamara’s voice cut through the tension. “Bring Tomas a drink.”
Ryan did as he was told, setting the glass of whiskey in front of Tomas as he sat down at the table. Tomas’s eyes lingered on him—there was curiosity there, maybe even amusement. Tamara slid her hand along Tomas’s thigh and then glanced at Ryan.
“Come here.”
Ryan’s pulse spiked. He approached slowly.
“Kneel.”
His eyes shot toward hers. “Tamara…?”
“You said you wanted to please me, didn’t you?”
Ryan hesitated for a breathless moment, then slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of Tomas’ feet. His face flushed with heat. His hands trembled slightly as he placed them on his own thighs.
Tamara ran her fingers through his hair, stroking his scalp.
“Good boy.”
Ryan’s breath hitched as he knelt before Tomas, his knees pressed into the hardwood floor beneath the table, a dull ache building where his weight settled. His head swam with conflicting emotions—shame, arousal, fear. Tomas sat back in the chair, legs spread, his dark eyes fixed on Ryan with an ever so slight grin on his face. Tamara stood behind Ryan, her hand resting lightly on his quivering shoulder, her nails trailing possessively along his chest.
Ryan’s heart hammered in his chest as Tomas’ length jutted toward him—thick, intimidating, masculine. His mouth went dry. He could hear the faint sound of Tamara’s breath, measured and calm.
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” Tamara said, her warm voice made Ryan feel slightly more confident.
Ryan’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. He didn’t know if he could do this—really do this. But Tamara’s voice grounded him. He had agreed to this. He had trusted her. He wanted to show her that he could do this. Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned forward and parted his lips.
The first touch of Tomas’s warmth against his tongue made Ryan tense. His instinct was to pull away, but Tamara’s soft hand rested on the back of his head, reassuring him as she stroking his hair.
“Relax, baby,” she whispered. “You’re doing so well.”
Ryan forced himself to breathe. He opened his mouth wider and took Tomas in deeper. His gag reflex flared, and he immediately pulled back, coughing, his eyes watering.
“Take your time,” Tamara said gently. “You’ll get used to him.”
Ryan swallowed hard, his hands shaking as they pressed against Tomas’s thighs for balance. His cheeks flushed with humiliation, but he felt Tamara’s thumb brushing over his ear, calming him. Her touch anchored him.
He tried again, slower this time. He focused on steadying his breathing, finding a rhythm as his lips stretched around Tomas. His jaw ached, and the size of him made it difficult to take more than a few inches. His eyes remained fixed on a spot on Tomas’s shirt, a seam where the two pieces of fabric met—he focused his eyes on that point and couldn’t bring himself to meet Tomas’s gaze. The weight of Tomas’s dominance pressed down on him, and his mind rebelled against the vulnerability and humiliation of the act.
His eyes remained fixed on a spot on Tomas’s shirt, a seam where the two pieces of fabric met—he focused his eyes on that point and couldn’t bring himself to meet Tomas’s gaze. The weight of Tomas’s dominance pressed down on him, and his mind rebelled against the vulnerability and humiliation of the act.
Tamara’s hand moved to his shoulder.
“Good boy,” she purred.
Ryan’s chest swelled at the praise. He didn’t understand why it affected him so deeply, but hearing her approval made the heat in his stomach twist into something more complex than humiliation. It was… acceptance.
Tomas’s breath hitched. Ryan could feel the subtle tension in Tomas’s body, the slight upward thrust of his hips as Ryan worked his mouth around him. A surge of conflicted pride stirred in Ryan’s chest. He was… pleasing him. He was making Tomas feel good.
Tamara leaned down, her lips brushing Ryan’s ear. “You’re making him feel so good, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”
Ryan’s eyes burned with tears. His throat protested as Tomas pushed deeper. His gag reflex flared again, and Ryan fought to control it. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on Tamara’s hand in his hair, on the quiet hum of her approval.
Tomas groaned. Ryan’s heart thudded. He could feel Tomas’s body tightening beneath his hands.
Ryan’s eyes widened as he felt Tomas pulse against his tongue. He had no warning before Tomas released. His first instinct was to pull away, but Tamara’s hand tightened on his shoulder. He felt Tomas’s hand firmly grasp the back of his head, burying his face even deeper onto Tomas, past the point in his throat that he didn’t think he cold go beyond. Tomas was in his throat as he felt him release, thrusting even deeper each time Tomas’s body pulsed.
“Swallow, my love.”
Ryan’s throat seized, he was beyond gagging. As Tomas withdrew, the salty taste hit Ryan’s tongue. His body rebelled, but Tomas’s firm hand guided him, and he forced himself to swallow. His face burned with shame, but beneath the shame was a strange sense of pride. He had done it. He had submitted.
Ryan pulled back slowly, breathless, his eyes still fixed downward. Tamara reach down and stroked his hair while Tomas withdrew from him. Ryan’s lips trembled as Tamara bent down and kissed him deeply, tasting the remnants of Tomas on his lips.
“Good boy,” she whispered, her forehead resting against his.
Ryan’s body sagged with relief. His breath came in shallow, ragged bursts. He looked up at Tomas and made eye contact briefly before averting his gaze.
Tamara smiled, brushing her thumb along his cheek. “Now, go clean up the kitchen.”
Ryan’s legs trembled as he stood. He stumbled toward the kitchen in a daze. He scrubbed his hands in the sink repeatedly as if to wash the shame from him. His mind raced as he rinsed the dishes under warm water. His hands moved on autopilot as he scrubbed the plates clean.
The faint sounds of Tamara and Tomas from the bedroom filtered through the thin walls. Soft murmurs. A quiet moan. A thud of a headboard. Ryan’s stomach clenched—not with jealousy, but with an odd sense of comfort. He had always imagined it would feel worse than this.
But instead of feeling like an outsider, he felt… included. He had participated. He had contributed to Tamara’s pleasure, even if it wasn’t directly. He had done something that pleased her.
As he dried the dishes, he sat with the quiet, vulnerable truth of it: This wasn’t weakness. This was strength in a different form. He didn’t have Tomas’s body or stamina, but he could give Tamara something Tomas couldn’t. His submission, his willingness to serve—it made him valuable to her.
The next morning, Ryan sat at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee. His mind was calmer than he had expected. He didn’t know what to say to Tamara, but he didn’t need to. She slid into the seat across from him, wearing one of his t-shirts, her hair slightly tousled. She picked up the coffee that Ryan had made for her, “Thank you, love. She said with a spry smile”.
“You were amazing last night,” she said, her voice soft as she blew on the hot coffee to cool it down.
Ryan flushed, setting his mug down.
“I mean it,” she said. “I know it was… a lot. But you handled it so well.”
“I… I just wanted to make you happy,” Ryan said.
Tamara smiled. “You did.” She reached across the table and took his hand. “I’ve been thinking about this shift. I want Tomas to come over more often.”
Ryan hesitated, his stomach flipping.
“I’m not asking for more than you can give,” she said. “But last night felt right. Having you there. Feeling your love and support for me—it made me feel closer to you sexually than I ever have.”
Ryan swallowed hard. He had never expected this shift to create more intimacy between them—but it had.
Tamara produced a small velvet bag from the pocket of her shirt. A purple bag with a black lace string tied in a delicate bow.
Ryan’s eyes narrowed.
“Take it,” she said.
Ryan’s hand trembled as he took the bag. He untied the lace carefully and pulled out the cool metal object inside. His breath hitched. A chastity cage.
Ryan’s face burned. He quickly slid it beneath the table, unsure how to respond.
“What do you think?” Tamara’s voice was calm, steady.
Ryan’s eyes lifted toward her. He watched her reach beneath her shirt and produce a delicate silver necklace with a rose gold key hanging around her neck. It had been there all along but he hadn’t noticed it because it had been beneath her shirt but he knew what it meant. His chest tightened. The weight of the symbolism hit him like a freight train.
“You… you’d have the key?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He already knew the answer but he asked anyway.
Tamara smiled knowingly “If you would trust me with it, yes”, she said.
Ryan’s mouth felt dry. His initial instinct was to reject it. To push it away. But then he thought about last night. The feeling of Tamara’s hand stroking his hair as he satisfied her lover. The warmth in her eyes knowing that he had pleased her. The quiet strength in submission. He hadn’t felt that kind of deep love and adoration from her in as long as he could remember.
“I…” Ryan’s voice broke. “I think I could… try.”
Tamara’s smile widened. “Good boy.”
Ryan exhaled shakily, a small nervous laugh escaping his throat. He stared down at the cage in his hand, feeling the weight of the decision. This was another step—a deeper step—into submission. Into trust.
“I… I liked cleaning you up last night,” Ryan said bashfully. His cheeks colored as he said it. “It felt… right.”
Tamara’s eyes softened. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. It showed me at a very intimate level that you accepted Tomas’s new role in our lives.” She leaned forward, her hand brushing across his cheek.
“I love you, Ryan,” she whispered.
Ryan’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest.
“I love you too,” he said. And he meant it.
