It's 4 a.m., and I’m wide awake. My cock is painfully trapped in its cage, leaking and hard as a rock. I think I slept for maybe an hour. My mind is on a loop, replaying every detail of last night. Addy, with her fist inside me, her lips wrapped around that dildo—God, it was so damn hot. My prostate’s still pulsing, aching from the unrelenting torture of her knuckles pushing me right to the edge over and over again. And I didn’t want it to stop.

I glance over at her. The moonlight sneaks through the blinds, just enough for me to see her peaceful face. She looks so calm, so beautiful, the key to my cage resting on her breast. My cock twitches hard, leaking through the bars as I remember her denial from last night. I reach across, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. She stirs, and I freeze, not wanting to wake her. I just want to watch her—this woman who holds every piece of my heart, every ounce of my attention. Even asleep, she still has all the control. I lose track of time, lying there, tracing the lines of her face, neck, and body. Until sleep finally pulls me under.

When I wake, I’m disoriented. Instinctively, I reach for Addy, needing to feel her next to me. But her side of the bed is empty, barely warm. Confused, I roll out of bed and put on my trackies, and head for the kitchen. As soon as I open the door, I’m hit with the smell of coffee and bacon—two of my favorite things. I walk in and find Addy standing at the stove, dressed in my favorite singlet, cooking breakfast.

“Good morning, baby,” she says with a smile, tossing me a wink. “Thought you deserved a big breakfast after last night’s hard work.” She hands me a latte, made exactly how I like it—two sugars. I take a sip, perfection.

“Good morning,” I mumble, holding up my coffee in appreciation. But she notices something. Her brow furrows with concern as she sets the tongs down and walks over to me.

“Are you okay? You look like you didn’t sleep at all.” She cups my face with one hand, taking the coffee from me with the other, sets it down and wraps me in a hug. Her love and concern hit me like a wave, and for a moment, I’m choking on it.

“It was a rough night,” I admit, resting my head against her chest. Her steady breathing starts to calm me, our bodies syncing up breath for breath. Just as I begin to relax, the smoke alarm blares.

“Shit, the bacon!” Addy jumps into action, flipping off the stove, tossing the bacon onto a plate, and throwing the pan into the sink. She grabs a tea towel and waves it madly at the alarm, finally getting it to shut off. Her hair’s falling out of her bun, her tank top slipping off one shoulder, and I can’t help it—I burst out laughing.

She huffs and shoots me an amused, mock-annoyed look before washing the pan and getting back to the eggs. Lucky for me, I like my bacon crispy.

The rest of the day is much quieter. I clean up the kitchen, give Addy a foot rub on the couch—wearing nothing but her favorite thong, of course. The way she moans as I rub her feet makes me hard and leaking all over again. Afterward, I get stuck into my chores. I do the laundry and clean up from our weekend away. It's 4 p.m.. I’m exhausted and collapse on the couch. Addy cuddles up to me, and I fall asleep almost instantly.

I wake up to the doorbell ringing and Addy jumping up. She’s ordered pizza. We eat together, sitting in comfortable silence, her hand brushing against my cage now and then, keeping me on edge without ever fully engaging. She’s been teasing me all day, keeping her distance but still driving me crazy. After my tenth yawn, she clicks off the TV and grabs my hand, leading me to the shower.

She undresses us both slowly, and when the water’s just right, she pulls me under the spray. Her hands, slick with soap, start washing me, every inch, lingering on my caged cock and balls. It’s pure torture, the way she cleans me so carefully, her hair wet and sticking to her naked breasts. She kneels, taking her time as her hands slide over my skin. When she looks up at me with that fiery look in her eyes, I nearly lose it.

She smirks and, without a word, takes my caged cock into her mouth. I lean back against the wall, helpless as her tongue flicks across the resin bars, sending jolts of pleasure shooting through me. The sound that escapes my throat is primal, and it only makes her suck harder. Her tongue moves with precision, teasing, pushing, flicking, her hands massaging my balls with just the right amount of pressure. I’m so close, teetering on the edge of release, but just as I’m about to come, she pulls away.

“Not yet,” she says, smiling softly as she stands and kisses me. Then she turns, reaching for the soap, and starts washing herself—just as slowly, just as torturously. My eyes trace the bubbles sliding down her body, and when she catches me staring, she smirks.

She finishes, steps toward me, and kisses me again, my arms pulling her tight against me, but she pulls away with a playful glint in her eyes. “Not yet,” she repeats, turning off the water. We towel off, and as she hands me mine, she teases, “Lucky we didn’t run out of hot water. Though from the look of you,” her eyes flick down to my bulging cage, “you could’ve used a cold shower.” She’s not wrong.

We climb into bed and fall asleep in each other’s arms. As I drift off, I think about how much our life has changed since we started this chastity journey together. Period week used to mean blowjob week. Now, I realize as my cock twitches uncomfortably in its prison, it’s edging week. It’s a challenge, but damn, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Brax -