Chapter 8

I set the table with the dinner I had slaved over—steaming plates of claypot rice from the wet market in Happy Valley, stir-fried kai lan with garlic, and char siu pork glistening under the kitchen lights of our Tai Hang flat. The aroma filled the air, a small act of service to prove my devotion amid the chaos of my crumbling manhood. My heels clicked softly on the laminate floor as I adjusted the napkins, still in the party dress from the morning’s humiliating outing, the flat cage idea not yet implanted but my cocklette already shrinking from the hormones and neglect. The door buzzed open, and Vanessa strode in with Charles, her arm looped possessively through his, both flushed from whatever hospital rounds or quickie they’d shared at Queen Mary. She wore her tight white coat unbuttoned over a silk blouse that hugged her perky tits, skirt riding high on toned thighs; he loomed tall and muscled in scrubs, exuding that effortless alpha scent of sweat and cologne.

Vanessa’s eyes scanned the spread approvingly, then locked on me with that cold command. ‘Strip your panties and pull up your skirt, sissy.’ Her voice cut sharp, no room for debate. Charles leaned against the counter, smirking as he cracked open a Tsingtao from the fridge. Heat flooded my face—I was exposed in front of him again, this god-like doctor who fucked my wife better than I ever could. My fingers trembled yanking down the lace thong, skirt hiked to my waist, revealing my pathetic cocklette dangling limp between smooth thighs, balls sagging from neglect. Shame burned deep; I was no man anymore, just a dressed-up doll leaking pre-cum from the breakfast thrill. For a split second, my mind flashed to his dick—thick, veiny, pounding Van senseless—and I hated the twitch it caused in me, that forbidden curiosity twisting my gut.

Vanessa shook her head slowly, disappointment etching her flawless features. She reached into her designer bag, pulling out a sleek black package. ‘Pathetic. Time to fix that.’ Inside lay the flat chastity cage, a cruel pink silicone prison designed to erase any trace of my manhood. The front was a smooth plate with a hollow urethral plug jutting out like a piss spout, a ring for the base, straps for security. My stomach knotted— this would squash me flat, make me look like a eunuch bitch. ‘Kneel,’ she ordered. I dropped to the tiles, knees aching, as Charles watched with casual interest, sipping his beer.

She lubed the plug cool and slick, then gripped my flaccid cocklette roughly, forcing the hollow tube into my urethra. Pain flared sharp as it invaded, stretching the sensitive slit, but I bit my lip, whimpering. Next, she crushed my shaft down flat against my balls, the ring snapping tight around the base, trapping everything pancake-thin behind the plate. The waist straps hooked secure, a thin band splitting my ballsack in two, framing the fake pussy slit perfectly. Click—the lock sealed my fate. I stared down: smooth crotch, no bulge, just a girly mound with a pee hole. ‘There,’ Vanessa purred, stepping back to admire. ‘No unsightly bulge now. Your penis is useless anyway, Max. Just a clit for decoration.’

Embarrassment scorched me like a Wan Chai street fire, cheeks blazing as Charles chuckled low. Useless. The word echoed, stripping my last shreds of masculinity. I was her toy, caged and flattened, no longer a husband but a freak in heels and makeup. Thoughts of escape flickered—grab my wallet, bolt to Mong Kok, vanish into the night markets—but the cage’s bite and her gaze chained me. Dinner passed in tense silence; they ate while I perched primly, skirt smoothed down, the plug tugging with every shift, a constant reminder of my demotion.

After plates cleared, Vanessa shoved me into the armchair facing the sofa. ‘Watch and learn, bitch.’ She dropped to her knees before Charles, unzipping his scrubs to free his massive cock—thick as my wrist, veins pulsing, head already leaking. She engulfed it hungrily, lips stretching wide around the girth, slurping deep throat with gagging slurps that echoed off the walls. Saliva dripped down her chin as she bobbed, tongue swirling the underside while he groaned, hand fisting her hair. My caged clit throbbed uselessly, straining against the plate, arousal trapped and painful. Then she mounted him reverse cowgirl, skirt hiked, pussy swallowing his length inch by inch until her ass cheeks clapped against his thighs. She rode hard, tits bouncing free from her blouse, moans filling the room—’Fuck yes, Charles, deeper!’—while I squirmed, humiliated voyeur, my manhood locked away.

Satisfied, she rose glistening, grabbing the 10-inch dildo from the drawer—black, veined monster, harness ready. She fitted it to my cage’s base, the weight slapping heavy against the flat plate, turning my crotch into a strap-on hub. Before I could protest, she yanked a black leather hood over my head—stifling, tight, holes only for eyes and mouth, erasing my identity further. Blind panic mixed with dread; I was faceless now, just holes to use. ‘Lie on the bed,’ she commanded, voice muffled through the leather. I obeyed, back to the sheets, the dildo jutting rigid from my caged groin.

Vanessa straddled me reverse, impaling her dripping pussy on the 10-incher with a guttural moan, walls clenching visible as she sank full hilt. Her ass cheeks spread wide above me, puckered hole winking. Charles positioned behind, spitting lube on his cock before pressing the fat head in. She gasped as he breached, inching deep into her ass, double-stuffed between us. They synced brutal—her grinding down on my dildo while he hammered her backdoor, balls slapping my cage. She came explosively, body shuddering, pussy squirting around the silicone shaft, juices soaking my thighs. Again and again, orgasms ripping through her screams—’Yes, fuck my holes!’—her body a vessel for their pleasure, me just the base.

Charles grunted, flooding her ass with hot ropes of cum; she lifted off me, dildo slick with her cream, and shoved my hooded face between her cheeks. ‘Lick it clean, swallow every drop.’ Tongue out through the mouth hole, I lapped obediently—salty semen mixed with her musk, ass flesh grinding on my nose as I probed deep, gulping the load down. Degradation peaked; I was their cleanup rag, less than human, tongue-fucking cum from her shithole while my own release dangled denied.

Vanessa flipped the script, strapping the harness fully to herself now, lubing the beast. ‘Bend over, toy.’ On all fours, hood still on, I presented my ass—prepped smooth from her weekly waxes. She rammed in merciless, 10 inches splitting me wide, prostate pummeled with each thrust. Pain bloomed to ecstasy, cage rattling as my clit spasmed. Hands-free, I erupted—cum bubbling pathetic from the urethral hole, spilling milky down the plate onto the sheets. Waves crashed, body convulsing in sissy bliss, but shame soured it: cumming like a girl from ass-fuck, manhood obliterated.

She dragged me to the bathroom by the hood’s ring, peeling it off under the rain shower head. Water cascaded hot as they flanked me naked. ‘Open wide.’ Vanessa aimed first, golden piss arcing from her shaved pussy, splattering my face, tits, open mouth—acrid, warm humiliation flooding my throat as I gagged swallows. Charles joined, thick stream hosing my caged crotch, balls, the fake pussy slit, drenching me like street garbage after a Mong Kok typhoon. I knelt there, piss pooling at my feet, swirling down the drain—utterly broken, treated worse than a stray dog. Loss crushed me; this was no marriage, just ownership. Run, a voice screamed—pack a bag, flee to my parents in Kowloon, reclaim some dignity. But the cage weighed heavy, her control absolute, my will eroded to whimpering need.