Steve led the two out of the ladies' bathrooms, back into the hall and into the room with the bar. Steve led Sam past the bar, ignoring their unfinished glasses of whiskey, and into the little alcove Sam had seen before.
They faced a door, beyond which lay the unknown. To Sam, anyway.
To the door was taped a handwritten sign: Sluts and cucks, strip.
On the floor were to amazing and amazingly tiny little black dresses and four elegant heels scattered around.
"Sam," Steve said, and Sam almost bumped into his colleague's naked back as Steve stopped so suddenly.
Sam backed up a step or two, the feeling of his naked chest against Steve's unclothed back had been strange and awkward.
The handwritten sign, directing that they and their wives had to be completely nude was still staring Sam in his face. He tried to ignore it, but since he was already naked, lubed and caged ... there was not much more he could do about it.
"Sam ...," Steve began, with a hoarse voice. Then he stopped. "Fuck, man, our wives are in there, in heels and wedding rings. And that's it."
"Jesus," Sam agreed, "that's pretty fucking hot."
"We all have our roles to play, Sam," Steve said, and Sam could see his colleague's chest and neck redden a little as his blush deepened. He could understand. Intellectualizing and talking about the situation was complicated.
The "sluts and cucks naked" handwritten sign taped to the door did not help. Neither did the black dresses and heels strewn about the floor. But it was the cage, and the feeling of the lube in his ass, that was driving home to Sam his utter surrender.
Carrie usually hung up her things carefully. The sign of his wife's eagerness to get fucked by Dante and the team felt like a punch in the gut.
He did not share her enthusiasm, but the moment was intensely erotic. And alarming, he realized, as his penis struggled fruitlessly against the cage.
He felt his body thrumming with erotic, illicit, terrifyingly intense desire.
"I'm ready," he said out loud to Steve.
Steve hesitated a moment more. He paused and looked to his colleague. "Sam, you've already surrendered and submitted," and he glanced meaningfully at Sam's caged penis, looking tiny and pathetic in its little cage.
Sam reddened. He swallowed and felt himself nodding.
"It's more than that, in there," Steve said, hands shaking and his voice hoarse. The crimson had spread from his face, down his neck and across his shoulders now. "You need to accept that you, and me, and our wives, are here voluntarily to be the playthings of real men."
"Oh God," Sam replied, his own state of shame now travelling southward as well.
They had been walking together and bumping into his colleague's naked back with
his chest had been strange and intimate in ways that were uncomfortable. Sam took a step back.
Steve let his hand drop to his side, and his shoulders slumped. To Sam his friend and fellow caged cuck looked like he was deflating. Sam felt a kinship with Steve at the moment. There was something animalistic about the ritual they were experiencing together.
"Sam...," he croaked and cleared his throat, still looking at the door and not turning to look his fellow caged and lubed cuck in the eye.
"Sam," Steve started again. "I am not supposed to tell you this, but the first time with the team like this... it is something."
Sam started to say something but Steve overrode him.
