Lenoir's round tits and bubble-shaped butt turned from smooth to slippery, when she soaped them up in the shower. This sensation caressed the brick wall bodies of her countless lovers, except for her husband Matthew. Men, who wanted to join her in the shower, or even stand up in front of her without explicit permission needed to reach a minimum height requirement that towered over her husband's slim frame.
Even when Mathew crawled on his hands and knees, Lenoir only allowed him to follow her swaying voluptuous booty to just outside the shower. Inside, one of her many broad-shouldered studs usually stood, adjusting the water to Lenoir's desired temperature. Once she stepped inside and shut the glass door behind her, Mathew prayed she wouldn't allow it to fog over, disintegrating their entwined bodies into a flesh-colored blur. This caused his ears to hone onto the moaning, giggling, kissing, the wet popping sound of a fat cock leaving her mouth, the sloppy squelching sound of her inner wetness, and that rhythmic slap of her lover's scrotum against her pussy.
Sometimes, she'd wipe the fog off the glass and let her tits press against the door, moaning as the bull fucked her from behind. Her moans always became louder and more guttural when Matthew started passionately kissing the glass, making it the only barrier, separating his firm lips from her soft skin. The second he stopped doing this, she always urgently ordered him to keep going and he obeyed. He always obeyed, except on a Sunday morning, in which he enticed her into unlocking his chastity cage.
On that particular Sunday morning, she noticed him watching her undress, with a confident smirk he'd usually hide, through force of will. Hell, she could usually vanquish it, with a stern glance. Not at that moment. At that moment, he wore it proudly, allowing her to catch it in the corner of her eye. Once she did, she threw the same smirk right back at him. She crossed her arms. Her eyes locked onto his. A few seconds of eternity passed before she verbally acknowledged the factor that made the offending grin all the more audacious.
"You're standing."
"I am, indeed."
"Do you have permission to stand in my presence?"
"No."
"So if you don't have my permission, and you're not doing your tasks, where should you be right now?"
"On my knees, waiting for the next opportunity to serve you."
"And yet here you are, enjoying an eye-level view of me. Care to explain yourself?"
"Nope. Just gonna enjoy this bit of playful mutiny."
"I see. So is your ego going to come down from there on its own, or am I going to have to drag it down with my bare hands?"
"It'll come down in a minute. I just need to ask you something. Do you remember when we first met?"
"Of course, I do, love! Why do you ask?"
"Do you remember when I told you, about my nasty little habit of seducing strict cuckoldresses into breaking their own rules and letting me fuck them?"
"I certainly do! You said it proudly, with the confidence of a bull, and I liked it. Never did end up actually happening though. It's a shame, really. Handsome man, not making a move."
Slim as he was, his dark eyes and narrow features could get women staring and giggling amongst each other. It's not like he had a small cock either. Placed in a line of porn star dicks, it wouldn't have impressed, and he loved having it compared to her superior-sized bulls, but it was a respectable 7 inches, and thicker than most guys. Once it stiffened to full form, it honestly made her mouth water from looking at it.
Furthermore, her pussy would water every time she saw just how fast it could harden, after a month or two locked in a chastity cage. She never told him when she was going to unlock it, so she could see his face flush red upon doing so.
Her favorite thing to do, during this time, was allowing him to masturbate all he wanted, while he watched her lovers ravage her. She always had to laugh a little, when his hand blurred from stroking his cock, only to slow down, once he felt his balls getting too tight, and pre-cum leaking from his urethra.
He knew that if he shot that thick creamy load too early, she would tell him to clean up, put the cage back on, and go do the dishes, or clean the carpets until they were finished. Lenoir remembered countless nights of closing her eyes, while drinking deep from the slow kisses of her lover, only to find herself laughing at the desperate grunts of Matthew's orgasm, slipping away from him.
Thankfully, a few years of training freed him from that pitiful lack of self-control. Sometimes, he lasted even longer than the bull, so she would let him aim his dick into her open mouth, and stroke until he spurt his creamy nut onto her tongue as a reward. He did this, knowing that if he asked her to stroke it for him, or accidentally touched her face with his dick, he would get a spanking. Fun incentives and punishments like that made Matthew's inaction easy to explain.
"What can I say? You cast a captivating spell, constantly making me want to obey. It's very difficult to summon the will to make a move, when every second, I want to remain under your finger, just a little bit longer."
"So is this you calling out from under your Mistress's finger, begging her to lift it."
"I don't think I'll have to beg."
"Is that right?"
"It is. Maybe the old me would have had to beg, but I think we both agree, I've evolved as a lover, especially in the endurance department."
"Very true," said Lenoir, "you've been serving Mommy well, lately. I can't even remember the last time, unlocking your cage didn't end in rewarding you. Sometimes it tastes more like a reward for me than you."
"That's on purpose, Mistress. I make sure to eat nothing that spoils the taste of my cum. I want to make sure every load of ball batter I brew by stroking my wanton dick has a thick texture and irresistible taste for my mistress."
"Really? I love that. So obedient! So loyal! So relentlessly thoughtful! But now you're done begging?"
"I mean, I might beg a little for the fun of it."
A gut-punch full of laughter, hunched her body and stretched her lips into a smile so tight it hurt.
"So it's not a real mutiny then," she said, tickling beneath his clean-shaven chin. "You're just being a little brat. That's okay. I'll allow it. Besides, I'm curious to see what you can do with all this confidence."
For the past month, Lenoir had observed signs of a crescendo, finally reaching its peak. An innuendo here, and a devious smirk there told her there was a lustful beast, waiting to be unleashed on her body. The beast's eyes appeared from the secluded cave inside his mind and narrowed with playful lechery, but it was yet to come out of the shadows and show her its teeth.
