The door opened at exactly ten. Sable stood there in nothing but a black high-cut thong, nipples tight and dark, skin already flushed. The silver key to my cock cage hung on a thin chain between her breasts. She held out her hands without a word. “Clothes.” I stripped in the hallway, hoodie, joggers, trainers—feeling the metal cage tug and the thick plug shift inside me with every movement. She took the pile and tossed it into the cupboard. Then she turned me, cuffed my wrists behind my back, and clipped a short lead to the chain between them. The lead brushed my swollen balls as she pulled me inside. The suite smelled of sex already. Four-poster bed, low sofa, wide windows. She pushed the door shut with her heel and kissed me hard, tongue deep, body pressed tight so I felt every inch of her heat against my bare, shaved skin. The cage made a soft metallic sound between us. She broke the kiss and led me to the bed by the lead. “I had company last night,” she said, voice low. “They
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