Test her boundaries; ask playfully to let you out.

You shift your hips, making the cage more obvious under your sweatpants, and give her your best pleading look. "Come on, Nicole. This is already torture. Can't you just... let me out for a bit? Just to breathe?"

Her eyebrows rise, and for a moment you see something flicker across her face — consideration, maybe even temptation. Her gaze drops to your crotch again, lingering there, and you can practically feel the wheels turning in her head.

Then her expression shifts. Her lips curve into a slow, knowing smile that makes your stomach drop.

"Oh, sweetheart," she says, her voice dropping into that new register again, the one that makes the hair on your arms stand up. "You think you can just... ask nicely and I'll give in?" She steps closer, her bare feet silent on the floor. "On day one?"

Her hand comes up to rest on your chest again, fingers splayed over your sternum. "But you know what?" Her thumb traces a small circle against your skin. "I do need to check on you. Make sure everything's fitting right. Make sure you're not chafing anywhere."

Your pulse kicks up. "Yeah?"

"Mmhmm." She reaches up and pulls the key chain over her head, the brass warm from resting against her throat. "Go sit on the couch. Take off your sweatpants."

You obey before you've fully processed the words, crossing to the couch and hooking your thumbs into the waistband. The cage catches on the fabric as you pull them down, a sharp reminder of its presence. You sit, naked from the waist down except for the device locked around your cock.

Nicole follows slowly, deliberately. She kneels between your legs, the key in her palm, and you can see the flush spreading down her neck and chest, disappearing under the collar of her sleep shirt. Her breathing has quickened.

"Let me see," she murmurs, leaning in close. Her fingers trace the edge of the silicone ring, checking the fit behind your balls. The touch is careful, her lips parted slightly. "Does this hurt?"

"No."

"And here?" She touches the base of the cage where it meets the ring.

"No."

Her fingers slide along the cage's shell, and you feel yourself trying to swell again inside it, that same frustrated ache building. She notices immediately — watches it happen with rapt attention, her breath catching.

"God," she whispers. "I can see it pressing against the plastic. You're trying so hard."

"Nicole—"

"Shh." She looks up at you, and there's something fierce in her eyes now. "I could unlock you right now. I could take this off and wrap my hand around you and feel you get fully hard. I could put you in my mouth." Her voice has gone husky. "I want to. You have no idea how much I want to."

Your breath stops in your chest.

"But I'm not going to."

She sits back on her heels, the key still in her hand. "Because this is about more than what I want in this exact second. This is about the whole month. About watching you get more and more desperate for me." She loops the chain back around her neck, settling the key against her throat again. "And you're already so desperate, Julien. It's only been twelve hours."

She stands up, leaving you sitting there, exposed and aching and locked. "Put your sweatpants back on. You need to get ready for work."

You stare at her. "That's it?"

Her smile is absolutely wicked. "That's it. And while you're at work today, I want you to text me every hour. Tell me how the cage feels. Tell me what you're thinking about. Tell me how much you wish I'd unlock you." She pauses at the doorway to the bedroom, glances back over her shoulder and blows you a kiss.

(No poll this time. We'll skip to a day of work.)