B.R. Saiph's Blog

The Tithing: It’s Not About The Money
Hank’s a man’s man, a big man, driving a big rig. The only thing bigger is his ego. He’s got a wallet full of cash, and he’s on his way to Vegas. It’s a town full of women just waiting to show a man like him a good time. He knows it.
Pulling into the Double-Six Diner was just supposed to be a quick stop. A cheap meal at a cheap diner becomes so much more than he could ever have imagined when he meets Lila and her sister Mary.
A sundress, a key, and a bet whispered from lips that would scramble any man’s brain are more than enough to detour Hank. What he has no way of knowing is just how permanent that detour will be.
He had plans, but at the Double-Six, it’s a woman’s world, and they make the rules. Plans change.

A short story featuring chastity, denial, dominant women, foolish men, and general naughty behaviour by B.R. Saiph

Link:https://books2read.com/u/4j6ZkZ

Though I may be locked pretty much all the time, Locktober still brings its own special time of teasing fun. Scrolling through our feeds yields plenty of reminders that others are with us, lockstep, in their own journey of denial. Those locked and the ones holding the keys to their pleasure, or the denial thereof, are as one in this month where we collectively extol the possibilities that this lifestyle presents.

I’ve posted recently about my struggles with being locked down so hard, so very hard, but I don’t wish to digress, and of course, the austere lack of PIV. So, you can understand that even as I posted into the wee hours of October 31 about hoping for release, I didn’t really expect it.

I woke Saturday with the usual morning frustrated semi-hard ‘boner’ — if I can call it that, squished and deformed, not physically able to fully form, forced upward inside me. I touched the dome of my cage as I always do, pushed on it with that indomitable human spirit that just doesn’t know when the battle has been lost. My barely awake mind not processing the futility of the base need propelling my fingers to help my cock find any sort of damn relief.

The steel is resolute, and as with any other morning, I was quickly reminded that if I wish to have pleasure down there, only She can grant it.

I knelt at the foot of the bed, as I do on the weekend, and sucked on MrsBR_Saiph’s toes, rubbing lotion into her legs. My thumbs gliding up the warm, soft soles of her feet became thrusts of my cock as my tongue pleaded my case to all ten succulent digits. Legs smooth as silk, and her contented sighs telling me I’d done a good job of gently introducing her to a new day, I lifted the sheet to crawl between her legs.

“Go get your key.”

My heart stopped. What?

My mind raced. Did she just…?

I was up to grab the key in a flash, lest this be a dream and I awake before… well, I wasn’t going anywhere near that thought, not now!

Cage off, her silent judgement and her smirk as she looked at the state of what her brutal lockdown had yielded in my rearview mirror, I was then under the sheets. Face between her legs and my tongue thanking her with every stroke. My dick shucked off the shame of what the cage was doing to it, and surged forward. Hard. Into the side of her foot, and I thrust.

It felt so good!

I thrust again, and she shifted so the angle of her foot aligned perfectly with how I was able to dry hump against her. Maximum pleasure response achieved, and her innate ability to play me like a fiddle demonstrated once again. Her moans grew as I suckled her clit and my tongue thrashed against her lips. The long strokes of my foot along her now slick sole were echoed by the deep thrusts of my tongue inside her.

I was inside her in the moment — my raging hard cock, so long denied that sensation, and my tongue ravaging her pussy had become one in my mind. I was free. I was fucking hard. I was fucking!!!

I thought of how other men could be, for real, inside her. I remembered how the bodies, glistening with sweat, of those Black men quivered and shook as the last drops of their seed were spent inside her. They were allowed that. They had, casually and taken for granted as something to be had whenever they hunted for it, what was no longer for me. I had her blessing to have this moment with her foot, and as the erotic cruelty of that washed over me, I felt my balls quiver.

She knows what makes me tick and has only ever sought to ensure I enjoy this life we live as much as she does. And so, in the quiet of the early morning light, she gave me exactly what I needed, not what those other men do. In the way that was right for me — for us. I used to grasp at the memories of being like those other men. I used to think that as one, we all needed the same things. But those men do not live my dreams. I do. And in my dreams, I follow Her lead.

And her lead whispered softly upon the echoes of the moan my hungry tongue had plied from her swollen bud. “You can cum.”

I did!

I exploded with a growl, then a groan as it ended, savouring the last drop as it dribbled out, knowing this rare mind-blowing experience was already coming to an end.

She gave me a moment, and then without trying to hide the giggle forming, she said. “You know what to do…”

I did, and after being allowed this honour, I did not hesitate despite never enjoying this part. I licked up every pent-up chunk and thick drop of cum. I sucked her flesh clean until she was pure once again and not sullied by spunk that was not worthy of spilling inside her.

Cocks that came inside her were not caged. They were not… my size. They were Black. They were massive, and she had to ‘make them fit’. They were borne upon the wanton fleshly desires of men who knew just how to deliver what she needed from them. From men who stayed in their lane, while I stayed in mine.

It was an altogether fitting reward for my weakness in choosing release. In choosing to give in to my wants over staying tuned, like a tightly wound string, humming on silent notes of yearning for her.

Nuzzling afterward, I thanked her. From my heart, from my soul. For her gift, and its implied forgiveness. For even in my shame at being weak, at giving in to the weakness of my flesh over the desire of my heart to be pure to all that is Her, I had loved it. Every fucking thrust, and surging splash of cum that had followed. For I am weak. I am a man. Her man. And in her wisdom, she has shown me once again the power of the carrot, and as the past year has shown, the power of the unyielding stick.

The End

Thank you for reading. If you would like to read more of my work, links to my published stories can be found >

I’ve been reflecting (a lot) about my place in this world as a man, as a husband, and as a lover. 2025 has been a heady year. MrsBR_Saiph and I kick-started it with a commitment to my being pussyfree, and of course, to continue my 24/7 chastity. It was the culmination of many whispered conversations in the dark after our first Splash Mocha. Where, afterward, she found herself only interested in Black men and how they made her feel. Many a night, her lithe fingers teased my cage while mine explored her moist lips, as we talked about her lovers. How big their cocks were. Thick, so very thick, some longer than others, and all of them stretching her, sometimes to her limits. To a one, each awakened the primal beast between her legs.

It had taken countless of these erotically fuelled conversations before she felt comfortable enough to be honest. About how truly amazing they felt inside her. Or, how it felt to be manhandled in all the right ways by a beautiful Black man who moved in all the right ways.

And, how I had never been able to satisfy her, not even close, the way those men do.

It took gentle prodding on my part because honesty, even when it stings, is the cornerstone of this lifestyle. As the new year approached, she finally admitted that she didn’t need my dick, that our lovemaking was perfect the way it was. The SpareParts Joque Harness & Strap-On, the Hitachi Wand, my tongue, and my butterfly kisses. It was all she needed—from me. There it was, the honest truth, ‘I don’t need your dick,’ whispered on tentative breaths that feared hurting me because of her love.

Honesty did bruise my ego, a lot for a millisecond, and a little for a beat after that. Just as I knew it would. Then I gave my head a shake and let her words settle into my soul, where ego has no place. Her words echoed what I already knew, but needed to hear. Words I’d been ready to embrace long before she was comfortable enough to utter them.

You see, I’ve held her hand and listened to guttural moans of pleasure come from her as another man fucked her, far too many times to ignore the reality. I have never, in my life, made her sound like those men do. I love watching her get railed hard, and she loves me watching. In this equation, where we were both enjoying the reality of the Bull, my dick had no place. In fact, by it not being part of the equation, she had found sexual nirvana. And in her sexual freedom and bliss, I had found my place.

With that out in the open, and my masochistic desires unfettered, it only seemed natural for us to experiment with me being ‘pussyfree’.

It’s been a life-changing ride. Or, at least, it’s altered my vision of my reality. Months of not coming, and most certainly not experiencing erections. The endless teasing touches and whispered naughty desires—of beautiful Black men, and her digging deep to just ‘make it fit’. It all took me so far down into the sub-zone I couldn’t see daylight. But I wanted to. Desperately. Had my fantasy been too much in its reality?

I wasn’t sure, but then on a whim, she unlocked me for my birthday. PIV had never felt more glorious! I swear I saw stars when I came. Then I felt guilt. For cumming. For my erection. For taking a bite of the forbidden fruit when I had committed to truly putting her pleasure before my own. But hey, I got over it!

The year moved on, and I remained chaste while she moaned and writhed under the thrusting embrace of one lover after another. I was allowed out shortly after Splash Mocha, and when I came far too quickly, her words said it all.

“That, my dear, is why I keep you locked.”

She was smiling as she said it, so I knew she was only (partially) playing with me. Yet the words were once again, the truth. We both knew it, and I felt it powerfully. She delivered the coup de grace a few short weeks afterward. I playfully asked if she needed my cock. I was simply enjoying the banter. Except this time, with a pause and a thoughtful look, she lost herself in her matter-of-fact answer. “No. Actually, I don’t think about your dick anymore. Not really.” She paused again, blinked, smiled nervously, then frowned. “Is that bad?”

Fuuuck. I’ve never loved her more. Our journey has never been rushed. We have struggled and overcome, and learned so much about ourselves and each other. Our love has never been stronger. Our faith and commitment to each other has never been stronger. And to watch my Lady venture into a place of absolutely crushing honesty, because of her trust in us, was epic.

It’s been a hard lockdown since. I still try to banter about her needing my cock, but now she just smirks and doesn’t bother replying. Our lovemaking is intense, and the Joque is our best friend, or is it the Hitachi? Either way, it’s been exhilaratingly scary for me at times, and at others a little crushing, because the truth does hurt, doesn’t it? But, only if we let it, only if we fail to look at what that truth means. For us as a couple, for her as my Queen, and for me as her man.

I hadn’t planned on writing anything for Locktober this year, but our Friday night visit to ‘The Club’ showed me how far we’ve come in embracing her pleasure and my place as a locked cuckold. I realized it was the perfect month to share where we are at.

She scooped up three beautiful Black men. Two consecutively, and then the third shortly after. They were all friends. The third guy asked if she had ‘one more in her’, and of course, she did. As he came deep inside her while she was on all fours, her hand in mine, he asked her. “Was I the best?”

She giggled and told him what he wanted to hear. When we were back in the room, she held my cage, her eyes full of concern, checking in because that’s what my Lady does. “How are you?”

My mind went far and wide over the past year, our journey, and where we are today. In the span of an hour, I watched three men put their cocks where mine was no longer needed or allowed. I watched them take long strokes, spreading her lips with their meaty cocks, making her cry out and close her eyes in pleasure/pain.

I remember how incredible it feels to be inside her!

I immediately chided myself because I had never made her respond like that. The cage hidden beneath my cotton towel reminded me that was all part of why we were here today.

I watched them thrust hard and cum deep inside her.

When have I last done that?

As my stomach clenched with envy, I realized I didn’t know. While PIV had only recently been denied me, cumming inside her had already been long a thing of the past. I hadn’t done that since her first lover had years ago. When she’d first been taken around the world on another man’s cock while mine had been caged.

I don’t know what the future holds. I’m nervous about living a life where I cum in my cage far more often than I’m allowed an erection, while other men cum inside my wife. I’m nervous because it’s a road I’ve never traveled. But I do know I’m traveling it with her. I know the cuck angst I felt as they came inside her was transcendent. I felt… at peace. I was in my place. I was confident I was where I belonged and was the man I was born to be. Her man. At her side, living our best life together. So, I looked down into her eyes and met her concerned look with a smile and answered like I meant it, because I did.

“I’m good, baby. I’m good.”

Happy Locktober, my chaste friends. May your journey be all that you wish it to be.

The End

Thank you for reading. If you would like to read more of my work, links to my published stories can be found >

Packing For Splash Mocha: A Cuck’s Viewpoint

The REO Speedwagon Radio playlist played softly in the background, while muted amber hues from the LED candles danced around us. Our suitcase for Splash Mocha lay open before us, ready to be filled as would she, once we arrived at our destination. Her eyes lit up with that mischievous smile I love, as she held the Spareparts Joque harness and its well-endowed accoutrement. I blushed, one part excited at the prospect of her pegging me. One part, even after all these years, was still that little bit embarrassed that she knew what I was thinking.

The candlelight streamed through the glass plug, glinting a wicked mockery of my asshole as her lithe fingers placed it beside the harness, right next to the lube. She had already packed her heels, and I ran my fingers over them. The gold accents teased my eyes. Visions of her wearing them, calves taut and feet arched for another man, filled my mind.

She laid her hand over mine and guided my curious digits upward and to the left, to where her panties lay. Black lacy numbers, and red ones too. Then she paused as we reached the white satin bikini ones shimmering innocently back at us. She gently pressed my hand down onto them and brought her lips to my ear. Softly whispered, her words were like pouring gasoline on the ever-present embers of my caged lust for her. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll wear these while I fuck you.”

I lost myself for a minute, as I often do when she burrows deep into my grey matter like that, but then she brought me back. Like she always does. Cupping my face in her hand, drawing me to her, to her mouth and… those lips, reminding me the present is better than anything that yet could be.

Later, we lay in bed, and the candles continued their silent melody of light, every flicker a celebration of our excitement about that very thing. The ‘could’ that would be this weekend, and all that entailed. Her pleasure. Oh, yes. And — as she inevitably gets stretched and taken as a quivering mess to her very limits — her pain. That delicious pain that hurts sooo damn good in all the right ways. A melting pot of pleasure and sweet pain, and ecstasy as massive obsidian shafts take her on a ride around the world. They will take her to places ordinary men like me can only dream of, as I witness it all, in rapture, from the comfort of my cuck chair.

Slipping her leg over mine, she cuddled against my side. Resting her head on my chest, her fingers began to brush lightly over my balls. The music played, and her fingers teased, and my cage grew tighter. She gripped me and slowly pulled down, inexorably down. Further…

I drew a quick breath.

Further…

My finger tapped the sheets, and then I stilled myself because she does not tolerate weakness.

Further…

I gasped. There was no way I couldn’t have. I was certain.

Further…

Now, however, her fingernails dug into my tender flesh as punishment, and a reminder that it can always be worse. I tensed, my body rigid as a board, as I dug deep, and I remained silent. And, we both knew that only a moment before, when I could have pleased her with that silence, I had failed.

She held me there without a word, as my body quivered with the exertion of receiving her focus, and then… it was over. The precum dripped down the steel dome of my cage, betraying any protest I might have offered about how sensitive my balls were.

Her finger slid over the slick trail of betrayal to the source. The head of my dick had squeezed out of the tiny hole at the tip of the dome, forming two small angry red lips squished into a lurid pucker. No more than a few millimeters in height, and only slightly more in diameter, it was everything a man’s dick shouldn’t be.

She teased it, drawing more tears of anguished denial before smearing them on my lips. Her finger probed my mouth, pressing onto my tongue as I sucked it clean. As she slowly withdrew, she brought her lips to my ears. Her whispered breath, hot and moist, cut through the fog of arousal she’d wrapped me in and thrust right into my cage. Her finger met me there, teasing the flesh fervently struggling against its confines.

“Is this your little erection?”

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but… had nothing. It didn’t matter anyway, because she’d already rolled over to go to sleep. She was done with me. She’d had her fun and had left me to my thoughts, and my now incredibly tight cage.

The End.

Thank you for reading. If you would like to read more of my work, links to my published stories can be found >

Friendzoned Into Accidental Cleanup
James has loved Maddy forever, but to her, he’s just a best friend.
One fateful night thrusts them into a world of dark desires and shifting power dynamics, forcing them to reckon with a future together neither of them had known was possible.
To be the man she needs, he must conquer his shame.
His friendship is everything to her, yet she wrestles with his wants as a man and her feelings as a woman, while striving to have it all.
All she can do is lead, and trust that his feelings for her are enough to make him follow.

He dreams of love.
She demands loyalty — on her terms.
In the end, they must decide if her needs outweigh his wants.

There comes a time in every man’s life when he has to make a choice. For some, it’s clear. For others…

What would you do?

An erotic novel with scenes of female domination and control, humiliation, CFNM, chastity, tease and denial, interracial cuckolding, creampie cleanup, and of course, hardcore friendzone angst. By B.R. Saiph

Link: https://books2read.com/u/bMMPZX

When Is A Cuckolding Issue A ‘Me Problem’?

I’d like to start by saying that I’m a very happy man living my best life with the amazing @MrsBR_Saiph as her chaste cuckold. But how did we get to this magical happy cuckold utopia, and is it pure bliss all the time?

Both answers are intertwined. Finding a consistent sense of joy about our version of cuckolding (for me, and therefore for her) took a while. And, nothing on this earth is pure bliss all the time. I say ‘our version’ because every couple walks their own path in this, and all facets of their relationship.

Initially, we were both shocked at how many issues I had. If my issues hadn’t resulted in such emotionally unpleasant experiences for us both, some of the things that sent me off the rails would be laughable. But, they were not nice, and nobody was laughing. We laugh now about the hors d’oeuvre tray incident as we’ve come to call it, but it’s one of the very few.

Now, even after so very many incredible cuckolding experiences, amazing bulls, and my complete certainty that I am living as I was always meant to be—a chaste cuckold, neither of us can let our hands off the wheel (for long). Just like driving (don’t tell me you haven’t at least once lol). The road looks straight, there are no visible potholes, and the lines are freshly painted and clear to see, but accidents can always happen. Unlike my country road daily commute where I’m most likely to get hit by a deer, in cuckolding it’s the bull effect causing the crash.

I still, on a rare occasion, wobble, and even rarer yet, go off the rails. When I do, I try so very hard to practice what we (I) have learned along the way to our relative success at navigating this lifestyle.

-Remember she loves me. We don’t play to hurt me. I’m a cuck because I want to be a cuck.

-Don’t let things fester.

-Communicate immediately any concern/feeling, no matter how embarrassed I am at having that feeling.

-Remember she loves me. We don’t play to hurt me. I’m a cuck because I want to be a cuck.

-When we talk it out, keep my shit under control and rejoice in the fact that she is trying so very hard to help me/us understand my feeling and work towards a solution. So… talk quietly, and in a controlled fashion. Keep it as a conversation. She knows I’m upset, I don’t need to yell.

-Remember she loves me!

Sounds like I’ve got it figured out eh? I don’t, but I do try so very hard to heed my own hard-learned advice.

When I do, it’s only a ‘wobble’. The ‘Me Problem’ becomes an ‘Us Problem’ in all the good ways. It starts with our tears and ends with hugs and kisses (and if I’m lucky some time with my head between her legs). She is an incredibly intelligent woman, with layers of perception, understanding, empathy, and compassion I could only ever dream of having. She transforms my wobble into a loving, caring moment for us to explore the nuances of ourselves and our complex lifestyle, and always makes me feel like a fucking champ when we’re done. It’s amazing, and she leaves me gobsmacked every time. I can’t say this enough—‘What a woman!’

When I don’t, it’s a horrible train wreck. And that is a ‘Me Problem’ but unfortunately in a bad way, it becomes an ‘Us Problem’ too. Because, when I don’t follow my rules I hurt her emotionally. That’s shitty, and that makes me… well let’s just say I have lots of words for that man in me. After all, I’ll give you one guess as to who the guy was that asked (begged) to get his dick locked up and cuckolded?

See, here’s the thing. When she hurts me emotionally, or I feel insecure, or something else creeps in, it is never intentional on her part. She is a woman, a mother, my soulmate, and a human. I am a human. Our being human means she doesn’t always get things right, and for me means most times I’m not looking at things clearly or from all angles. That’s why I have my list of rules.

I’ve often said to her that someday I’ll write a book about our journey just because there were so many surprise train wrecks and so many learning points along the way. However, I likely won’t because there are more than enough podcasts and books covering this already. I’ll stick to keeping my filthy mind in the gutter with my next raunchy story, and do the occasional blog post such as this.

And yeah, the point of this post, well… I can’t tell you what is or is not a ‘Me Problem’ because for us to have found the success we now enjoy in cuckolding, everything is an ‘Us Problem’. And when the next problem arises, we both can only hope and pray that I follow my list of rules. She deserves that. She deserves the very utmost best version of me, no matter what.

The End.

Thank you for reading. If you would like to read more of my work, links to my published work can be found >

Dreams

I had little sleep last night. We snuggled close under the heavy comforters, as the cool bedroom air tickled our noses (we love it cold for sleeping), and I ground my uselessness/cage into her warm ass crack. She felt nothing because in reality, and despite how full my balls feel, when caged you run out of ‘dick’ long before you can even think about having one.

I throbbed all night, awakened time and again by the conviction that her hand was caressing my inner thigh, and then moving on to cup my balls before playing with my cage. At one point I had even earnestly dreamt she was stroking my cock, standing rigid and proud and lapping up her ministrations.

Yet time and again I’d come to my senses and realize that the only thing happening was in my fevered mind. I’d listen to her gently breathing beside me and give it my best effort to subdue the yearning threatening to consume me. Desperate to rip off that damn cage I’d for so long yearned to have ruthlessly locked upon me (and still maddeningly do), I’d then eventually drift off once again.

When my alarm went off for work I dragged my ass out of bed instead of under the sheets to slide my face up between her legs. This wasn’t the first time of late I’d experienced a night such as that, and yet it was by far the most intense. I am so glad the weekend is here, and I can properly express my gratitude to @MrsBr_Saiph for being the kind of woman that after 26 years of marriage, can still keep me up all night thinking about her.

The End.

Thank you for reading. If you would like to read more of my work, links to my published work can be found >

The Last Leaf

We went to ‘The Club’ last night to celebrate Valentine’s Day. We love going there whenever possible, and special occasions always make it naughtier! No expectations preceded us as we entered, only that we enjoy the evening for whatever it may offer us. You know what they say about going into anything with none, and then enjoying whatever it is that exceeds them and all that…

@MrsBR_Saiph looked ravishing in a little red number, with her succulent breasts accentuated by a delicate silver key teasing the flesh above, while her playful eyes lit the room and her full red lips beckoned for… My eyes were not the only ones feasting upon her, but mine were the only ones that knew she was the huntress, and they were but prey. I started the evening in a good mental place as a cuckold (spoiler alert – I finished that way too), but I had no way of knowing that my self-perception was about to be irrecoverably changed.

We danced, we held each other regardless of the tempo, and at other times she ground her ass into my caged crotch with a dexterity and fervor that never ceases to blow me away. At some point, we took a break and I went to the washroom. And, that was when the night became one for the books.

As I sat and pissed through the steel bars of the cage incessantly reminding me that I was chaste and all the ‘real’ men stood while using the urinals, Her eyes locked on His.

He was a younger Black man, muscular, and had a great smile. She was in, and so was he. When I came out They were waiting for me. Friendly introductions imbued with a vibe that this was a chill cool guy in all the good ways, quickly led us to the playroom. They were on a red leather bed removing each other’s towels, and I was beside them (wearing mine).

He was strong! He held her tight as he moved her around the bed. Over against this pillow with legs in the air, and then to the opposite side, on all fours. As I moved around in an attempt to keep my eyes on her face while this stallion took my wife away in a gallop across the plains of pleasure, her primal self cried out. It was loud, unabashed, and had a tenor to it I’d never before heard.

His dark flesh glistened with sweat as he rode her hard while her light skin played against his as they lost themselves in each other. My lady never forgets me (for long, and good for her when she does!) and would consistently reach for my hand throughout. I’d let her know I was OK with a squeeze and then let go, for I had no desire to distract her from what was unfolding before me.

At one point she broke the kiss, breathless and eyes wide with an as-yet unsatiated hunger. “You’re a lot!” The corner of her mouth pulling her lips up into a mischievous smile told me how much fun she was having.

His stamina was unparalleled and I watched in amazement as he came inside her, rested for an impossibly few short minutes, and then began anew where he’d just left off. As they tumbled across the bed in a frenzied tangle of arms and legs, mouths mashed together, and a cock making her cry out to the world how good it was, I witnessed that which every cuck surely yearns for.

As a cuck, I’ve been forced to face that which most men bundle up into a predefined set of misconceptions about themselves. I’ve had to acknowledge that there were sexual Olympians out there and that I could never stand on the podium with them. I’ve had to admit that there were men with really big cocks, and I most certainly could not hit ‘that special spot’ like they could, no matter how much society told me that size didn’t matter. I’ve wiped the splatter off my face as a man, in a matter of seconds, found her g-spot and showed me that it was indeed not a myth, merely a place I had never taken her to. I’ve faced off with and lost the battle against my conviction that at least I could kiss her like no other.

It’s all good, don’t get me wrong, but it was a long journey and one fraught with many an emotional wipeout on my part to get me to where I was yesterday. I don’t want to detract from this post with how much we’ve taken to our Joque Spare Parts harness and eight-inch dildo, but I must mention it nonetheless. It has kept me caged in a brutal lockdown for almost five months, and pussy-free for two.

I’d hopped on that train without a thought because with my friend (we call him — — that’s another story) I was able to draw those guttural noises from her that those men with all the ‘right stuff’ could. We were having sex on a level that brought us both pleasure, unlike anything we’d experienced together before. I had her panting. I had her moaning. I had her gyrating under me and crying out like a champion. I was a champion…finally…I could bring her pleasure the way those other men did!

I didn’t think I was an Olympian, but I was circling that podium with conviction. Then I watched her fingers dig into his flesh as she tumbled with him to where I sat, amazed. She giggled and slapped his ass, then moaned as he drove deep inside her. I watched as the energy passed between them like high-voltage rippling down a power line in an uncontrolled need for release. I watched as he came yet again, deep inside her.

I watched, and the last shred of self-delusion was peeled from my eyes, leaving my ego naked and exposed. Fragile, as the last leaf grasping to hang on to that which must inevitably come to an end. The autumn leaf that falls from the branches of the mighty oak, strong and sure as the world gazes upon it, yet unable to deny the will of the world it exists in. I was forced, as was that leaf, to realize its perception of its place in this world had been misguided. I was forced to realize that even on my best day, I could never bring the sexual energy and ensuing passion to the table in the way he could.

Fragile was my ego in the moment, as I contemplated there not being a need to get out my harness later this night, but my faith in us had not wavered. I won’t lie though, I was feeling a little confused about what I could bring to the table now that I knew that with or without a harness I would never be what this man, and those like him, could be to her. Yet, as her hand blindly found mine once more, I felt joy. I felt release. I felt…in my place.

I had shed (what I hope is my last) ego-fueled self-delusion, the sort that just gets in the way of truly embracing what this lifestyle can bring to those who travel it. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t be him, and in fact, that was what made it all so delicious to both of us. We had our own passion, one with a burning heat fueled by our love that could never be matched by that of the flesh. That other heat would be served up to the woman of my dreams on a platter of muscular flesh, dark and rippling with sexual prowess that men like me rightfully stand in awe of.

We took his phone number with an intent we’d naught once had before, to actually contact him again, and returned to our hotel. We’d brought pizza and wings to satisfy the late-night need to refuel after an experience such as we’d had and settled in. As we climbed into bed, we talked about our night and she told me with her loving smile and warm embrace that I was her man, and that was all that I needed to remember—no matter what. I snuggled my cage against her warm ass, as close as I could get to the well-fucked pussy that was in my mind sending teasing waves of heat through the steel and into my denied dick. But, I had guessed correctly. There would be no need for my friend tonight. Not after what she’d experienced with Him. She was satisfied physically, and spent sexually.

She didn’t need that from me tonight. She needed only me. And, that was more than OK, it was fucking awesome.

I don’t know what the future has in store, and I’m not about to tell you I won’t go off the rails about this thing or that at some point, but I can tell you I’m in a great place. A place I’m beyond grateful to be in, thanks to the woman I love. Thanks to the woman I dared bare my soul to so many years ago as I confessed my desire to submit to her cage, and then later yearned to be her cuck.

The End.

Thank you for reading. If you would like to read more of my work, links to my published work can be found >

All of the following stories were previously released on Medium.

My Wife Fucked The Therapist In Front Of Me
Jim and Maggie have been exploring the world of cuckolding but there’s a problem, and it’s a big one.
Jim has insecurity and jealousy issues that are threatening their ability to enjoy their new lifestyle before it’s barely begun.
Alexander is a therapist with unusual techniques, but he comes highly recommended and Jim hopes he can help him become the best cuckold he can be.

His Friend With Benefits Explores Her Dominant Side
Harry and Gisele had an established friends-with-benefits relationship. Her Eastern European good looks coupled with her mild manner were a perfect fit for his macho take command attitude in the bedroom. The status quo is all on the line though after she attends a female empowerment workshop. Gisele issues an ensuing challenge that she can get Harry to beg her to lock him in chastity. If she loses, he gets something from her that no man has ever had. She wants to explore her new-found fascination with dominance, and he doesn’t even know what the word submission means. The stakes are high and both of them are sure that they can’t lose.

Coat Check Cuckold
Celia and Milo felt that they were a seasoned cuckold couple and were looking forward to spending New Year’s Eve together. The chastity play that had led to a lifestyle they both enjoyed was cause enough for celebration, but for Milo, there was more. He was finally free of all the insecurities that come with watching the woman you love in the arms of another. What he couldn’t anticipate that night was her ex working the coat check. Too bad for Milo, there comes a time when a chaste cuck must face his reality, whether it’s the one he wanted or not.

Cab Ride Cuckold
Like any other couple, Mindy and Hank always look forward to a fun night out. Keeping an eye open for someone she might like to fuck only adds to the fun. Not every night out is a winner though, and tonight as they hail a cab, they are more than happy to simply enjoy each other. That is until they meet Sam. He’s a big sexy Black man, he’s confident, and he wants to share a ride.

His Wife Cucks Him At Work
William is the big man at his company by day, and his wife Gina cucks him ruthlessly at home by night. Everything is in perfect balance in William’s life and he couldn’t be happier. That is until the fateful day when Gina shows up at work and decides it’s time to bring his two worlds together.

A collection of exciting short stories featuring cuckolding, chastity, denial, dominant women, assertive men, submissive husbands, and general naughty behavior by B.R. Saiph

Link: https://books2read.com/u/38qKXB

Series: Cucks ’n Cages

A Word From The Author:

We’re back home after enjoying a wonderful vacation in Cuba. @MrsBr_Saiph had purchased a new string bikini for this holiday, which I found very distracting while trying to write. So, what else could I do but write about it, and her?

~~~~~

The Bikini

The surf lapped at the shoreline as he lapped at her pussy. It was a calm day and the surf languidly played with the sand, whereas he was eager and impatient with her pussy. His tongue pressed into the gusset of her bikini, then moved it aside so he could do that which she always insisted he do. He’d already licked up the tiny grain of sand lounging atop her bikini, a little to the right of the valley between her legs. A valley that had throughout time led more than one legion to war in a quest to kneel before its grandeur.

He wasn’t necessarily impatient to swallow the other man’s cum, but it was what needed to be done if he wanted the prize, and so he was eager to get there. Her sweet juices would only coat his tongue and slip down his throat if they were preceded by the other man’s seed. It was thick and still hot, and today it was saltier than usual, perhaps because of the lunch he’d prepared for them earlier.

Perhaps impatient wasn’t quite the correct word. Perhaps ‘hastily’ was a better fit, for he never enjoyed this part of the bargain, but it was required by Her, to please Her, and therefore he did what he had to do. For Her.

Rushing through it was allowed, and so he did because slurping another man’s seed from his wife’s pussy was never something he could brag about to his friends, nor think about as he stared in the mirror the next day. He lapped, and swallowed, trying not to think about what he was doing to be a good husband, for Her.

His dick throbbed in his cage as he took in the close-up visual of the little black string bikini he’d bought her just for this trip. He’d worked some overtime to pay for it because that store was never cheap. The other man liked black, not because he was Black, but because of how it accentuated her white skin. So, he’d bought her the black one. If it had been for his own pleasure he may have picked out the yellow, or perhaps the white, but it had not been for him. It was never about him, nor should it be.

It had been for Him, and Her.

The sun was shining bright, and the cool breeze was heralded by the goosebumps rising up to embrace it from the flesh just above her bikini line. Individual bumps formed a chanting crowd egging him on with fervid voice, coming together as one.

“Lick!”

And he did.

“Suckle!”

And he did.

“Nibble!”

And he did.

“Now, swallow!”

And he did.

The crowd of goosebumps celebrating her flesh cheered him on as he lapped up the other man’s cum from his wife’s pussy.

The material stretched over her lips, caressing them in a gentle embrace, full of awe and appreciation for the gift that they were, simply by existing. The light chased the shadows over the folds, vying for his attention. He savored every inch of the bikini as it traced the contours of her flesh, appreciating how it drew out the very best of her, as his tongue strove so desperately to do the same.

She moaned and moved her hips ever so slightly, urging him to press his tongue a little more ‘that way’, as opposed to where it had errantly strayed. Could she fault him, for wanting to explore every inch of her, whilst in turn perhaps not entirely doing all he could to satisfy her the way she wanted? Perhaps. Well, actually the correct answer was ‘Yes’, but he was still a man, albeit a denied man, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself. All of her was delicious, and all of her was enticing. All of her was divine. All of her called to him, every time, even if it was slathered in another man’s cum, and he could not resist. Her flesh was a siren, beckoning him in the middle of the night, and in the bright mid-day sun at the beach. Her call was music to his ears, but it was not his ear that listened. It was his heart (and his dick that she did not need and thus kept locked in its immutable and unyielding steel prison).

His heart sang for her, yearned for her, rejoiced in all that She was, and he was grateful. He was grateful for living his best life with her. He swallowed again, and then licked the last remnants of her lover from her pink lips. He took one last lick, savoring the taste of her that he’d so fervently sought, and then stood up. He was about to turn away, to go clean up the kitchen he’d sullied in his desire to please her with a good meal, and of course her lover.

“Did we forget something?”

Her tone was playful, but the look in her eye was anything but. If there was one thing she would not condone, it was bad manners.

He blushed, and momentarily looked down. He was embarrassed on many levels, the least of which was forgetting himself in the presence of her lover.

He drew a breath and looked up, resolute in his commitment to her, and to being the very best version of himself he could be. For her.

He turned his gaze to the beautiful Black man whom she freely and unabashedly called’ lover’ in front of him, her husband, and her cuck. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the aftertaste of the man who now stared at him expectantly. The man knew his wife, far more intimately in ways most men never would of a married woman, and more importantly he knew and understood the dynamic the husband and the wife he was fucking, shared.

It didn’t make what he was expected to do any easier, but it helped. Knowing the other man understood very well, the relationship they three all shared, made it just that little bit more palatable as he spoke. As he submitted to the lifestyle he’d urged his wife to embrace, and now had to fully embrace himself, because the choice was no longer his.

“Thank you, Sam, for fucking my wife, and pleasing her in ways I never could.”

The End.

Thank you for reading. If you would like to read more of my work, links to my published work can be found >