Chapter 5 - Temptation's Night
The next morning Emily left early for work, and Mark woke as the front door shut. The bed beside him was empty, the soft indentations on the pillow the only sign that Emily had been there. The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that only comes when you're alone.
As he sat up, the chastity cage made its presence known, an unyielding reminder of his submission to Emily. He had awoken several times in the night as the natural changes in his body when he dreamt had led to discomfort when he swelled within the device. A sense of frustration washed over him as he realized that Emily had left for work without releasing him. The realisation that he would be confined for the entire day, with no way to remove the cage, wasn't a pleasant thought.
He sleepily stumbled downstairs, blaming his third glass of wine the previous night for the grogginess he was now experiencing. Emily had left him half a cafetiere of coffee, and a note on her pink notepad. "Remember I'm out with the girls tonight! See you later xxx."
Mark had, in fact, forgotten. Emily had planned to spend the evening out with her old school friends that evening to celebrate the 30th birthday of her oldest and dearest friend and wouldn't be in until late. He groaned as he realised the cage would be on for hours.
Mark's mind was a mess as he tried to settle into his daily routine. Working from home, usually a comfortable and productive environment for him, became a constant battle to maintain focus. His thoughts kept drifting back to the previous night, to the intense connection he had felt with Emily, and the new dynamics of their relationship.
Throughout the day, the physical discomfort of the cage was a constant reminder of his constrained state. He felt aroused by his memories of last night, but the cage kept him under tight control, making it impossible for him to act on his excitement. This restriction only served to heighten his anticipation for Emily's return, adding an edge of longing to his day.
As the hours dragged on, Mark tried to channel his restless energy into making the house perfect. He tidied up meticulously, paying attention to the little details he knew Emily appreciated. He changed the bed sheets, fluffed the pillows, and lined up the remote control in perfect alignment with the edge of the table just as she liked it; his actions were a silent and unwitnessed expression of his devotion.
Emily was having an equally distracted day. Her mind wasn't on the job, and her boss had a disappointment look on his face when he asked for some test results, only for Emily to realise she'd forgotten to order them from the lab. In quiet moments, she'd think back to the evening before, remembering the tenderness of Mark's touch and the unrivalled feeling of dominance she had felt. She wondered whether he'd found the keys to the padlock -- she'd left them on the bedside table in full view and she assumed he would have seen them when he woke, but it was fun to imagine that he was still locked up, desperately waiting for her return.
She wouldn't be home for hours yet. After work, she'd arranged to meet her old school friends for drinks and meal to celebrate Mary's birthday. It was one of her proudest achievements to have kept in such close contact with the group of girls she had grown up with. They were all so different in personality, but their shared history had kept them tight and there was no other group of people that she'd rather spend her time with. Although perhaps she'd drink a little less this evening, as the second glass of wine she'd had last night had really gone to her head...
Mary was the last of the group to turn 30, and they'd agreed to meet up in central London for pizza followed by some dancing. At least she wasn't working tomorrow, as two nights out in a row would take its toll on anyone's stamina.
Work finally over and her boss appeased by improved performance in the afternoon, Emily changed out of her scrubs and into the outfit that she'd stuffed in her bag that morning. It was a truly amazing fact that anything looked good on her, even if it came rumpled and wrinkled from the bottom of an over-full bag. She stood in front of the mirror to adjust her clothes, unaware of the admiring (and sometimes jealous) looks she was getting from the other women in the changing room.
She wore a pair of well-fitted, dark-wash jeans that hugged her curves perfectly, the slight fading on the thighs giving them a lived-in, comfortable look while still appearing polished. The jeans were high-waisted, cinching her in at just the right spot, accentuating her hourglass figure. Her top was a sleeveless, sparkly number that caught the light with every movement. The fabric was a rich, deep emerald, covered in tiny sequins that shimmered and danced as she moved. It had a high neckline, creating an elegant contrast with the more casual jeans, and a keyhole cutout in the back that added a touch of allure. The top flowed loosely over her torso, the delicate fabric brushing against her skin with each step, but tapered at the waist to highlight her silhouette. A pair of black strappy heels completed the look, which added just enough height to make her feel confident and poised. Her accessories were minimal: a pair of simple silver hoop earrings and her new bracelet added a touch of sparkle without overwhelming the outfit. A mist of perfume, and she was done.
An hour later, she was jumping off the train and hugging Mary, her oldest friend in the world. Three other girls soon joined them, and before long the group of five friends were seated in the restaurant making jokes about old times. An hour in, and Isla had drunk more than most of them put together. The group braced themselves for the usual escalation in crudity of her jokes as the wine flowed.
"How's the lovely Mark?" Isla asked. She winked as she said the word lovely to make the unsubtle point that she thought Mark was fit and that Emily was a lucky woman.
"Oh he's fine thanks. He's just at home waiting for me to come back," Emily replied noncommittally. It was said innocently enough, but the group immediately latched on to her words, looking for innuendo and double-entendre wherever they could find it.
"Hey hey", Isla immediately called with another wink, and the group laughed together. "Glad to hear you've got him on a short leash. Never let that one get away from you, lassie!". The group laughed again, and Emily reddened slightly at the attention, and at how close they'd come to the truth. Isla was not known for her delicacy, and seeing Emily's hesitation and hint of embarrassment, ploughed on. "Och, not trouble in paradise I hope? Don't worry m'girl, we'll find you a new man tonight!"
Emily laughed too, shaking her head and holding up her hands. "No thank you! Mark's great, there's no need for any matchmaking from you lot!" But the joke was now in play, and every time a good-looking guy walked past, one of the group would nudge Emily and ask, "What about him? You wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating cookies." As more drink was had, the comments became more blunt, with even Mary joining in the wind-up. "Looks well hung to me," or even more simply, "I would." The great myth that groups of ladies are always politer and better behaved than gentlemen was (again) exposed as a fraud.
The conversation flowed freely all evening as the group discussed their jobs, homes, relationships and families. They had been friends long enough to have met each other's parents and siblings, and there were almost endless possibilities to their discussion. As the evening drew to a close, Emily took the girl's requests for the final round of drinks and walked up to the bar to place the order. She sat on a stool waiting for the barman, and as she did so the man next to her looked towards her. She recognised him as one of the men the group had pointed out as a potential match for her if she was leaving Mark ("Don't joke about stuff like that!" had been Emily's semi-shocked reply when Isla had suggested it), and she flashed him a smile, hoping he hadn't overheard their outrageous banter.
