Stay Soft For Me Baby Pt 01

The door swings open, and there you are--standing tall, strong, your brown eyes locking onto mine with that familiar heat. Before you can say a word, I grab your shirt and pull you inside, pressing my body against yours as the door clicks shut behind you. Your hands move instinctively to my waist, gripping me firmly, but I tilt my chin up, stopping you just before you take control.

"No," I murmur against your lips. "You're mine, tonight."

A flicker of something unreadable crosses your face, but it's quickly replaced by a slow, teasing smile. I don't give you time to think. I press forward, capturing your mouth in a deep, intoxicating kiss, our tongues sliding together in a slow, deliberate dance. You groan softly into me, your body tense, as if resisting the urge to take over. But I feel it--the subtle shift, the way you yield just slightly, letting me lead.

My fingers move to your shirt, slipping the buttons open one by one, my nails grazing your warm skin as I push the material off your shoulders. Your hands twitch at your sides, like you want to touch me, but I give you a look that keeps you in place.

"Off," I say simply, tugging at your belt.

You nod, stepping back just enough to unbuckle it, letting your trousers fall at your feet. Now you're just in your briefs, the fabric stretching slightly but not as much as it usually would. You know what's coming. You know you can't get too excited yet.

"Knees."

Your breath catches slightly, your eyes flicking up to mine as you hesitate for just a second. You're not used to this--not used to looking up at me like this. But when I tilt my head and raise a brow, you obey, sinking to your knees before me.

I reach into the drawer and pull out the sleek metal cage. Your breath hitches, your gaze flickering between my hands and my chest, perfectly on display from your position. Your fingers clench at your thighs as I step closer, letting you feel my warmth, my scent, the tease of my breath against your skin.

I drag my nails lightly down the back of your neck, then lean in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss just below your ear. You shudder, your jaw clenching.

"Stay soft for me, baby," I whisper, my voice a sweet warning.

You exhale sharply, focusing, trying to keep yourself under control. I smile against your skin, knowing exactly how much of a challenge that is for you.

Slowly, carefully, I fit the cage around you, my fingers brushing against your sensitive flesh. I can feel the tension in you, the way you're teetering on the edge of arousal, but you're good--so good for me. Your breathing is slow, controlled, even as I lock the device into place with a soft click.

"There," I murmur, stepping back just enough to admire my work.

You look up at me, your eyes darker now, your chest rising and falling a little harder than before.

"You're mine now," I say, smiling as I cup your jaw, pulling you into another deep, possessive kiss.

I step back, admiring you on your knees before me, the cage locked around you, your body already tense with the need to touch, to claim. But tonight isn't about you taking--it's about you giving.

I run a hand slowly down your face, my nails grazing along your jawline, watching the way your lips part slightly at the contact. I step back, tilting my head as I admire the sight of you on your knees before me--obedient, waiting, caged.

I take my time, letting you see me in full. The blue of my mesh lingerie clings to my curves, the sheer fabric teasing glimpses of my bare skin beneath. The fishnet hold-ups hug my thighs, drawing attention to the soft, pale flesh above the lace trim. I know exactly how I look to you--desirable, untouchable, in complete control.

Your hands flex at your sides, aching to touch me, but you know better than to reach.

"Take me to the bedroom," I command, stepping forward and letting my fingers drift into your hair, gripping just enough to make you inhale sharply. "I want you to put those hands to use."

You rise instantly, towering over me. I turn, knowing you'll follow, leading you to the edge of the bed before I sit, crossing my legs slowly, deliberately.

"Strip," I say simply.

You hesitate for a fraction of a second before obeying. The remaining clothing falls away, leaving you bare--except for the cage keeping you contained. I watch the muscles in your chest shift, your strong shoulders rolling back as you stand before me, exposed. I can see the frustration, the need in your eyes, but you hold still, waiting for my next move.

"I want a massage," I say, my voice soft but firm. "But you already know where I want your focus, don't you?"

You swallow hard, nodding.

"Say it."

"I want to massage your ass," you admit, your voice thick with need.

"Mmm, good," I murmur, tapping my leg slowly and deliberately. "Get the oil."

Adjusting to the restriction of the cage, your breath sharp as it presses against you. I watch you struggle to move without feeling the bite of it, knowing that every second of waiting is its own kind of torment.

I wait until you return, kneeling by the bed, the bottle of oil beside you, waiting patiently. I climb onto the mattress, stretching out on my front, arching my back just enough to give you a perfect view of my ass, my curves framed by the deep blue of my lingerie.

I glance back at you. "Mmm, you can start."

I feel the snap of my bra, and hear the sides land on the white sheets.

You waste no time. Your hands glide over my back first, warm and firm, kneading into my muscles, working your way down in slow, teasing movements. But we both know where your focus is.

Hitching your fingers around my underwear, my ass raise up as you pull them down my thighs, shimmying the thing down and dropping my knickers to the floor.

When your hands finally reach my ass, I sigh, letting my body relax into your touch. You knead, squeeze, taking your time, enjoying every inch of my soft skin. I can feel how careful you're being--how much you want to speed up, to touch more, but you hold back.

Your fingers press deeper, massaging the curve of my ass, edging closer and closer to where I want you. You part me just slightly, your thumbs teasing along the sensitive skin near my entrance, circling but never quite touching.

I let out a slow breath, shifting my hips just slightly, encouraging.

You groan quietly behind me. "Fuck..."

I smile against the pillow. "Getting hard, are we?"

A sharp inhale from you. I know exactly what's happening--the cage is pressing tight, trapping every twitch, every pulse of arousal. The ache must be unbearable.

"Poor thing," I coo, looking over my shoulder at you. "That must be so frustrating."

You let out a slow, shaky breath, but don't stop. Your fingers keep working me, teasing, circling, getting bolder. You spread me a little more, your fingertips tracing over my tight entrance, pressing just enough to make me shiver.

I bite my lip. "Lick it."

Your whole body tenses.

"I want to feel your tongue," I purr, pushing back slightly. "Fuck me with it."

You don't hesitate. Your hands part my cheeks as your mouth finds me, your tongue pressing soft, teasing circles at first, then firmer, more demanding.

I moan into the pillow, my fingers gripping the sheets. "Good boy," I whisper, feeling you groan against me at the praise.

You push deeper, your tongue flicking, teasing, stretching. I can feel you trying to grind against the bed for some relief, but the cage stops you.

I shiver in pleasure, knowing exactly how much torment you're in--how much you need this, need me. Your tongue works me eagerly, hot and slick, pressing deeper with every stroke. You're not just licking me anymore; you're fucking me with your mouth, desperate to please, desperate for my praise.

I roll my hips back, grinding onto your tongue, feeling the warmth of your breath against my sensitive skin. My nipples are stiff against the sheets, my body humming with pleasure, every nerve alight under your touch.

"Just like that," I moan, my voice dripping with satisfaction. "Such a good boy."

You groan into me, the sound vibrating through my core, making me shiver. I hear the soft rustle of sheets as you shift, as you try to ease the throbbing ache between your legs. But I know the truth--the cage won't let you. Every desperate twitch, every pulse of arousal is met with unforgiving steel. The pleasure in your suffering only makes me wetter.

I reach back blindly, tangling my fingers in your hair, tugging you deeper against me. "You love this, don't you?" I purr. "Being used like this. Serving me."

Your head lifts slightly, enough for me to hear "Thank you". Your hands tighten on my hips, the way your tongue moves faster, more desperate--it's the perfect answer.

I let you work, let you drown in the the task of pleasuring me, but I know you're on the edge, your body trembling with the frustration of being denied. It's intoxicating, the way you moan helplessly into my skin, trapped in this cycle of pleasure and restraint.

I hum in approval, letting the moment stretch just long enough to drive you insane. Then, finally, I push up onto my hands and knees, arching my back so I can glance over my shoulder.

Your face is buried between my cheeks, your lips swollen, your brown eyes glazed with submission.

I grin.

"Lay back," I command, sliding off the bed with deliberate slowness. "I want to see exactly what this cage is doing to you."

Your breathing is heavy, your lips slick with my taste as you shift onto your back, your arms spread slightly as if surrendering completely. The cage, painfully tight around you, your body betraying just how much this turns you on.

I crawl onto the bed, straddling your thighs, letting the soft fabric of my lingerie brush against your skin as I lean down, my lips ghosting over your collarbone.

"Does it hurt?" I ask sweetly, my fingers trailing over the cage, barely touching.

You nod, swallowing hard, your jaw clenched.

I smile, pressing a feather-light kiss to your throat. "Good."

I slide my body lower, letting my breasts graze your stomach, my breath warm against your caged cock. My fingers play idly with the cage, watching you squirm beneath me, loving the way your body jerks at the smallest touch.

"You're so fucking hard," I murmur, amused.

You let out a strangled moan, your hips twitching, but I press a firm hand against your stomach, pinning you down.

"Ah, ah," I tsk, dragging my nails down your chest. "You take what I give you. Nothing more."

I glance up at you, watching the way your hands grip the sheets, your muscles tight with restraint.

"You love this," I say, running my tongue over my lips. "The ache. The denial."

You let out a shaky breath.

Dragging my nails down your stomach, just barely brushing the cage.

"You love knowing you belong to me."

Your eyes meet mine, dark and desperate.

"Say it," I whisper.

Your breath catches, your entire body tense beneath me. And then, in a hoarse, almost broken voice, you obey.

"I belong to you."

I smile, victorious, running my tongue up your stomach, my nails scratching lightly over your skin.

"Good boy."

I watch you lying there, breathing hard, your body trembling from restraint. The cage has done its job--you're aching, desperate, so close to the edge of madness that I can practically feel the tension vibrating off your skin.

But I'm not done with you yet.

"Sit up," I murmur, sliding off you, standing beside the bed.

You obey immediately, wincing slightly as you shift, the cage pressing against you in ways that must be unbearable. I smile, loving the way your need consumes you, but I won't let you have it--not yet.

"Come here," I command, settling onto the edge of the bed, picking up my hairbrush and handing it to you.

You take it, blinking in momentary confusion, but I simply tilt my head, waiting.

"Brush my hair."

Your lips part as if to protest, but you catch yourself. You swallow hard, nodding. "Yes, darling."

The first stroke is tentative, almost shy, but as the bristles slide through my long, dark hair, you relax into the rhythm. The gentle pull, the repetitive motion--it forces you to slow down, to breathe, to let the worst of your desperation settle. You focus on the task, knowing it's part of your service to me.

I sigh softly, enjoying the feel of it. The contrast between the raw, filthy things we've just done and this simple, domestic act makes it all the more intoxicating.

After a few minutes, I shift slightly, tilting my head back to look at you. "Better?"

You nod, your eyes still hazy with need.

"Good." I take the brush from your hands and set it aside. "Now, go prepare our toys."

I see the flicker of excitement pass through you, the subtle shift in your posture as you move to the the box at the end of the bed. You open the top, your fingers hovering over the collection of gleaming steel, glass, and silicone.

I lean back on my elbows, watching you with interest. "Choose what you want to use on me."

Your breath catches, your fingers flexing over the options before you carefully lay them out one by one. First, the small glass butt plug--your starting point. Then the vibrator, sleek and powerful. Next, the anal stretcher, the gradual build-up promising a perfect balance of pleasure and pain. Finally, the anal tunnel and the speculum--your ultimate goal, a test of my limits.

I bite my lip, already anticipating the sweet torment you're about to put me through.

"Good choices," I comment. "Shall we?", I say suggestively with one perfectly raised eyebrow. We both know it's not a real question.

You move behind me as I get on all fours, my back arching, my ass high in the air. The cool glass of the plug presses against my tight hole. You take your time, adding lube, warming me up, teasing me, until I finally sigh in satisfaction as the plug slides in, stretching me just enough to make me ache.

I hear the soft click of a camera.

I smile, glancing over my shoulder. "Mmm yes, I can't wait to see what you see through that lens."

Your breath hitches. "You look fucking perfect."

I arch my back, giving you an even better view, knowing it'll drive you mad.

Then you move to the next step.

The vibrator hums to life in your hand, and you trail it slowly over my skin before pressing it against the plug, the vibrations making me whimper. You don't stop there--your fingers find my dripping wet pussy, sliding inside with ease. One at first, then two, stretching me in time with the buzzing against my ass.

I moan into the sheets, gripping them tight. "More."

You obey, adding a third, fucking me deep and slow, watching the way I arch and tremble beneath you.

The vibrator placed on the bed.

I hear the camera click again.

The pleasure is building fast, my body clenching around your fingers, around the plug. You curl them just right, hitting that perfect spot, and suddenly I'm gone--squirting over the sheets, gasping as my body spasms under your touch.

I hear you groan, the cage biting into you as you instinctively try to thrust into nothing, but you have no relief.

"Did you enjoy that?" I pant, barely recovering, glancing over my shoulder.

You nod, your expression raw. "Thank you"

I smile. "Good. We're not done yet."

You pick up the anal stretcher next.

I brace myself, feeling the first section push into me, stretching me more than before. You take your time, your hands steady, your voice quiet with murmured praise as you work me open, coaxing my body to accept it, inch by inch.

The burn is delicious, pain and pleasure tangled together, making me tremble.

"You take it so well," you whisper, running a hand over my lower back, grounding me.

I moan, pushing back against it, against you, and you take the hint--pressing the final section into me, filling me completely.

Another click. Another photo.

"God," you breathe. "You're breathtaking."

But you're still not allowed to touch yourself.

I can see how badly you want to, how every pulse of arousal is like torture.

"You're not done yet," I remind you, my voice teasing now.

The anal tunnel slides into me next, leaving me stretched wide, vulnerable. And then the speculum, pressing into my pussy, opening me up for your hungry gaze.

You kneel back, taking it all in, your breathing ragged. The camera clicks again, capturing the obscene, perfect image of me fully exposed for you.

Your hands are shaking. The cage is biting into you, your arousal an unbearable torment.

I grin wickedly.

"You've done well," I say, finally rolling onto my back, my legs still spread from the stretcher, from the speculum. "But I think you've suffered enough."

I reach for the under-the-bed restraints, beckoning you closer.

"Lie down," I murmur, straddling you, letting you feel the heat of my body just out of reach.

"You've earned a reward."

Your breath shudders as I grab your wrists, securing them to the headboard.

I hover over you, my body inches away, watching the hunger in your eyes as I let you feel my heat but deny you the touch you crave. I tie you to the bed. The leather straps are tight around you, your body taut with anticipation, the cage pressing against you, holding you right at the edge of unbearable.

But before I can truly use you, there's something in the way. My fingers reach for the speculum, releasing it carefully, you watch as my pussy clenches around the absence. Your breath is shaky, your eyes fixated, mesmerised by the way I open and close around nothing, wet and wanting.

Your tongue flicks over your lips unconsciously.

I smile, then lower myself onto you, sinking onto your face with a satisfied sigh.

"Make me cum," I whisper, gripping your hair, pressing myself down just a little more. "And maybe--just maybe--I'll let you out."

You groan, muffled beneath me, before eagerly obeying. Your tongue dives into me, licking, lapping, sucking my clit into your mouth, drawing me closer and closer with every desperate flick. You don't hold back. You can't. You know how much I love this, how much I love using you like this.

My hips roll against your mouth, grinding down, setting the rhythm as I chase my pleasure. You moan into me, the vibrations sending sparks through my body. My fingers tighten, my nails scraping lightly against your skin as I lose myself in the sensation.

But I want more.

I shift, leaning forward into a perfect 69, my mouth hovering over your caged cock, my hands gliding down your stomach. Your balls are tight, heavy with frustration, the metal biting into you every time you try to get harder.

"Stop," I command breathlessly.

You immediately pull back, your tongue leaving me aching for more. I feel you panting beneath me, desperate, needy.

"Spit on my fingers," I order, holding my hand over your lips.

You do as you're told, your warm saliva pooling onto my fingers. I grin, bringing my hand between your legs, rubbing the slickness over your balls, letting it slide lower, my fingers teasing the sensitive skin between them and your tight, untouched entrance.

You tense.

"Relax," I say, in my calm mellow voice, my fingers rubbing slow circles, barely pressing, just teasing, just making sure you're wet and ready. I don't push in, not yet. Just strokes, just pressure, just the promise of what's to come.

Your body twitches beneath me, the torment making you groan, making your cage strain again.

I grin wickedly.

Then, just as suddenly, I climb off you.

You let out a small, involuntary whimper at the loss of my touch, your hips shifting, aching for anything, for any friction at all.

But I'm not done with you yet.

I release the restraints, letting your arms fall free, but before you can react, I grab your wrist.

"Turn over," I order. "On all fours."