Leftovers of the club night

The dull hum of the computer fan had long since died away. My room lay in the deep, cold shadows of late night, with only the pale glow of the streetlights casting grid-like patterns across the ceiling. I lay on my back, the blanket pulled up to my waist. Sleep remained impossible.

My groin felt like a single, throbbing center of ache. Every time I closed my eyes, Timo’s excited words echoed in my head—paired with the filthy lies I had fed him about Loona. The resin cage had crushed that involuntary arousal with brutal force; the skin at the base burned raw and feverish. I was exhausted, yet the constant dread of the front door kept my adrenaline at a steady boil.

Around four in the morning, the lock on the apartment door clicked softly shut.

Muffled steps crossed the hardwood. The sharp click of heels, kicked off after only a few strides. My stomach seized in an instant reflex. My pulse hammered straight into my temples.

The door to my room swung open without a knock. A shaft of warm hallway light cut through the dark, ripping me clean out of my paralysis.

Loona was leaning against the doorframe. The sight of her stole the breath right out of my lungs: the short black dress still clung tight to her hips, though the delicate straps had slipped slightly. Her dark hair fell wild and untamed over her shoulders. The room flooded with a heavy, intoxicating scent—expensive perfume mingled with the harsh tang of alcohol, club cigarette smoke, and the warm musk of hours spent dancing.

Her eyes glinted in the half-light, dark and heavy with intoxication and sheer dominance. A cynical, languid smile played across her crimson-painted lips.

“Still awake, sweetheart?” she whispered, her voice husky and low. She clicked the door shut behind her, plunging the room back into dim shadows.

She walked slowly toward my bed, the rustle of her stockings against the carpet sounding dangerously close. Without another word, she yanked the blanket off me in one sharp pull. The cool night air hit my legs and the thin pajama pants, where the hard contour of the resin casing stood out unmistakably.

Leaning down, she braced one hand against my chest, pressing down with a fraction of her weight. Her hot breath brushed across my face. With her other hand, she reached roughly through the fabric, grabbing straight for my crotch.

Her manicured fingernails felt unyieldingly for the padlock. She gripped the cylinder, giving it a hard shake—a sharp bolt of pain shot through my groin, tearing a ragged gasp from my throat.

“Very good,” she murmured with satisfaction, tracing her fingertips along the rigid plastic encasing my captive flesh. “Not a scratch. No escape attempts. You kept the leash exactly as tight today as I ordered.”

“I… I did what you told me,” I croaked hoarsely, completely unable to hold her heavy gaze.

“I know,” she breathed, inches from my lips, but when I lifted my head even a millimeter, she pulled back with a low laugh. “Don't go thinking your night is over, though. The club was fantastic. The music was loud, the bass was deep, and my whole body is buzzing.”

Straightening up, she reached for the nightstand, drawing out two familiar items with practiced precision: the soft leather straps with buckles, and the thick, black blindfold.

“Hands over your head. Onto the bedposts. Now.”

My body obeyed before my mind could raise a protest. I reached up, gripping the cold metal frame. Loona didn't waste a second. Working quickly and methodically, she cinched the straps around my wrists, pulling the leather taut until any room for movement was entirely gone. Then the cool silk slid over my eyes. Darkness crashed over me completely. I had never once seen her fully exposed, and the blackness before my eyes cemented that unbridgeable distance without mercy.

My senses narrowed sharply to sound and touch. I heard the faint friction of fabric, the rustle of nylon, the gathering up of her hem—she wasn't undressing entirely, merely pushing aside whatever was in the way.

The mattress dipped as she stepped onto the bed. Cool knees planted themselves into the pillows on either side of my neck.

“You confessed so nicely over the phone earlier how much little Emma got you worked up,” her voice whispered directly above me, stripped of all hesitation. “Now you’re going to show me what that tongue of yours is really good for.”

Before I could answer, her full weight descended over my face.

The slick, damp heat of her core pressed heavily down across my mouth and nose. The scent was overwhelming—musky, hot, soaked with the exertion of the club. I gasped, but the sound was smothered instantly against her flesh.

“Lick me,” she commanded in a muffled voice from above, digging a hand into my hair and pulling my head mercilessly into her center. “Hard. Every single drop belongs to you.”

I parted my lips and went to work. But from the very first deep pull of my tongue, my heart stopped cold.

There was something else.

A thick, unfamiliar moisture was mingled with her own wetness. An unmistakable bitter, metallic-salty taste spread heavy and warm across the tip of my tongue.

Come.

Unprotected. She hadn't just been dancing at the club. Some stranger had taken her, had finished inside her with complete abandon right before she came home. The realization hit me like a live wire, clamping around my throat and tilting the entire world on its axis.

“Swallow it down, John,” she breathed with vicious amusement, as if sensing the split-second freeze in my body. Her fingers tightened their grip on my scalp. “Swallow every bit of it.”

She began rolling her hips across my features, grinding against the tip of my tongue with an intensity that nearly cut off my air.

An inferno detonated inside me. The contradiction was staggering: blind beneath the silk, wrists bound tight, face buried between the thighs of the woman I had just spent the evening boasting to Timo about dominating—all while dutifully lapping away the wet traces of a nameless stranger. And deep inside my pants, my cock revolted against the confinement. It engorged, demanding release, ramming with agonizing force against the walls of the resin cage. The ache cut deep into my flesh, throbbing in lockstep with my desperate strokes.

Loona rode my face with increasing abandon. Her nails dug sharply into my scalp, her breathing turning ragged, gasping, hot.

“Yes… just like that, you pathetic little toy… take it all!” she urged, her pelvis driving hard against my lips.

She arched her back, a long, throaty moan tearing from her throat, her thighs clamping around my temples like twin vises. A searing wave broke over my mouth as her body seized in violent tremors above me. Blind and trapped, I licked and swallowed, taking in the blend of her release and the foreign seed, while she rode out the final quivers of her climax across my face.

Finally, she slumped down with a heavy, spent sigh. She stayed pinned over me for an agonizingly long moment before slowly lifting her hips and sliding free.

My face burned, wet and sticky. My lungs dragged in desperate gulps of cool room air, the bitter taste still coating my tongue.

I lay blind in the restraints, listening. Beside the bed, fabric rustled. The glide of silk, the smoothing of her dress, the adjustment of her straps. She covered herself completely, concealing every single inch of skin before even considering setting me free.

Only when the leather of her heels scuffed faintly against the floor did her hands return to my head. With a casual flick, she ripped the blindfold from my face.

The faint dawn light stung my eyes. I blinked, dazed. Loona stood fully clothed beside the bed, her black dress smoothed down to perfection, lips dark and smudged, eyes brimming with condescending mockery. Not an extra inch of skin visible that couldn't have been seen out on the street.

Working with swift, indifferent fingers, she unbuckled the straps at my wrists without breaking eye contact. Her gaze dropped briefly to my crotch, where the fabric strained tightly over the locked cage like a drawn bow.

“The lock stays shut, of course,” she said dryly, turning around and tossing her coat over her shoulders. “Sleep well, John. Tomorrow after school, Emma and her friends will be waiting for you—and you are going to be flawless.”

The bedroom door clicked shut. I was left alone in the dark, the straps lying loose beside me, the taste of another man’s come in my mouth, while my captive cock pleaded for mercy inside the resin.