Day 3 - The surprise

 The afternoon had melted into a syrupy gold when Lady B (our sun-bleached hostess, barefoot in a white linen robe) clapped once, the sound sharp and fond.  

“Special session in fifteen,” she called, voice warm as the breeze. “Cuckold Pegging Demonstration. Two volunteers, one surprise. Poolside, A-frame ready.”  

I was refilling Kacy’s rosé when the words registered. Pegging. My stomach fluttered (curiosity, nerves, the cage already pulsing). Kacy only smiled into her glass, saying nothing. She’d slipped away earlier while I was slicing limes; I’d thought nothing of it.  

By 4:15 the circle had formed. Wives in sheer wraps, bulls lounging like satisfied lions, cucks kneeling or standing with quiet pride. The mahogany A-frame stood center stage (padded, adjustable, cuffs soft but unyielding). Lady K (tall, raven-haired, harness gleaming like liquid midnight) arranged lube, wipes, and chilled water with ritual precision.  

Lady B emceed with effortless grace. “Consent is king. Pleasure is the goal. Aftercare is sacred.”  

First volunteer: Mark, collared and eager. Lady K buckled him in, murmuring praise as she drizzled lube in a slow, warm ribbon. The 8-inch silicone cock (warmed, thick, curved just so) pressed, paused, entered. Mark’s moan was soft, grateful. She built a rhythm: rolling, deep, relentless. Ten minutes in, his cage spurted (clear arcs pattering onto the mat). She fucked him through every shudder, then eased out, cradling him into his wife’s arms.  

Second volunteer: same ritual, same reverence. Another fountain from a cage, another blanket, another kiss to the temple.  

I stood beside Kacy, heart thrumming, when Lady B’s gaze swept the circle and landed on me.  

“Our surprise guest,” she announced, voice warm with mischief. “John, darling. Step forward.”  

A hush rippled outward. Kacy’s fingers found mine (steady, proud). I turned to her, eyes wide. “You knew?”  

She smiled, radiant. “I signed you up, love. Trust me.”  

Resistance flickered (then melted) under her unshakable gaze. The crowd watched with gentle encouragement; no jeers, just open hearts. Kacy stepped closer, cupping my cheek. “Go, love. Now.”  

Lady K’s voice cut through the haze, low and velvet. “John. Over here.”  

I went.  

Her hands were cool, confident. She positioned me (knees on padded rests, wrists cuffed, torso draped). My cage hung free, already leaking.  

“Breathe,” she whispered, drizzling lube in a slow cascade. Her gloved fingers circled, soothed, opened. The dildo (9 inches, thick, warmed) pressed against me.  

The stretch was divine: slow, burning, complete. She paused at every inch, letting me crave the next. When she hilted, my moan was raw, worshipful.  

Then she unleashed.  

No mercy (just deep, brutal, glorious thrusts). The silicone kissed my prostate with every stroke, a drumbeat of pleasure-pain. My body opened, greedy, helpless. Kacy’s voice threaded through the haze:  

“Look at you, darling. So beautiful. Let go.”  

I did.  

The orgasm crashed like a tide (my caged cock squirted in long, shuddering streams, cum pooling beneath the frame). Lady K fucked me through it, unrelenting, drawing out every aftershock until I sagged, trembling, hers.  

She eased out slowly, cradling my hips. Cuffs released; a warm blanket enveloped me. Kacy was there instantly, arms around me, lips on my forehead. “My perfect love,” she whispered.  

Lady K knelt beside us, offering water, stroking my back in slow circles. “You took it like a dream,” she murmured. “A natural.”  

Lady B raised a glass from the edge of the circle. “To surrender. To trust. To the ones who make it possible.”  

The group applauded softly (not for the act, but for the bond). Kacy curled against me on the chaise, fingers tracing the cage. “You gave me the world this weekend,” she said. “Now you know how it feels to be taken (cherished beyond words).”  

I drifted in her arms, body humming, heart impossibly full. The sun dipped lower, painting us gold. Two days down. Three to go (and I’d never felt more hers).