EPISODE 4: “His Birthday Gift”
She didn’t buy me anything. She broke me and gave herself… again, and again.
It was my birthday.
I thought—maybe—a kiss.
A cake. A cuddle.
But instead…
There was a box at the foot of my cage.
Inside?
A blindfold.
A pair of cuffs.
And a note:
“Strip. Kneel. Wait. The real men are coming to celebrate.”
I shivered.
My hands were already trembling.
But I did as she wrote.
Blindfold on. Cage tight. Knees on the cold floor.
Heart pounding louder than thunder.
Then I heard them.
Doors opening.
Footsteps.
Laughter.
Zippers.
And her voice — low, teasing, wet with desire.
“He’s waiting. Just like the good little pet he is.”
She pulled off the blindfold.
And there she was.
Bent over the table.
Three Bulls around her.
Her heels digging into the wood as she screamed their names. Not mine. Never mine.
They took her hard.
Raw.
Stretching her body, splitting her soul — right in front of me.
She didn’t look at me until she came.
And when she did, her eyes locked onto mine with that cruel, beautiful smirk.
“He’s crying already,” one of them laughed.
“He’s not allowed to blink,” she purred.
“He watches. He learns. He thanks us.”
I was tied to a chair now.
Legs spread. Cage dripping.
No touch. No escape.
Just… watching.
Shaking.
Shivering.
And when they were done —
Covered in sweat, cum dripping down her thighs —
She finally came over.
Straddled my lap.
Pulled my head into her soaked pussy.
And whispered:
“Lick. Your birthday cake is between my legs.”
I sobbed into her flesh.
Tasted all three of them.
Moaned like a dog in heat — broken, owned, grateful.
Because this is the only gift I’ll ever need:
Her moans for them…
Her control over me.
Her power in my tears.
She didn’t buy me anything. She broke me and gave herself… again, and again.
It was my birthday.
I thought—maybe—a kiss.
A cake. A cuddle.
But instead…
There was a box at the foot of my cage.
Inside?
A blindfold.
A pair of cuffs.
And a note:
“Strip. Kneel. Wait. The real men are coming to celebrate.”
I shivered.
My hands were already trembling.
But I did as she wrote.
Blindfold on. Cage tight. Knees on the cold floor.
Heart pounding louder than thunder.
Then I heard them.
Doors opening.
Footsteps.
Laughter.
Zippers.
And her voice — low, teasing, wet with desire.
“He’s waiting. Just like the good little pet he is.”
She pulled off the blindfold.
And there she was.
Bent over the table.
Three Bulls around her.
Her heels digging into the wood as she screamed their names. Not mine. Never mine.
They took her hard.
Raw.
Stretching her body, splitting her soul — right in front of me.
She didn’t look at me until she came.
And when she did, her eyes locked onto mine with that cruel, beautiful smirk.
“He’s crying already,” one of them laughed.
“He’s not allowed to blink,” she purred.
“He watches. He learns. He thanks us.”
I was tied to a chair now.
Legs spread. Cage dripping.
No touch. No escape.
Just… watching.
Shaking.
Shivering.
And when they were done —
Covered in sweat, cum dripping down her thighs —
She finally came over.
Straddled my lap.
Pulled my head into her soaked pussy.
And whispered:
“Lick. Your birthday cake is between my legs.”
I sobbed into her flesh.
Tasted all three of them.
Moaned like a dog in heat — broken, owned, grateful.
Because this is the only gift I’ll ever need:
Her moans for them…
Her control over me.
Her power in my tears.