That night at the club (Alex Pov)

The club was alive with pulsing lights and heavy bass. Damien had invited me and Emily out for a guys’ night since Sylvie wanted to stay home and relax. At first, it felt great loud music, good vibes, and plenty of laughs.

Damien kept the drinks coming all night. “You’ve earned this, man,” he’d say with a grin, handing me another round. “Future groom needs to let loose a little.” I was downing shots, beers, and strong cocktails faster than I usually would. Everything felt warm, fuzzy, and fun. Emily danced wildly between us, teasing and playful, making me feel included.

But as the hours passed and the **** really hit me, I started noticing the crowd more.

The place was packed with tall, confident black guys who seemed to own every inch of the dance floor. Women gravitated toward them like magnets laughing, touching, dancing close. Almost no girls were paying attention to the white guys standing around. Many of the women had the same tattoo: a small black spade with a white Q inside it, visible on wrists, ankles, or low on their cleavage. It looked like some kind of trendy design.

I felt a strange, uneasy flutter in my stomach.

Damien noticed me zoning out and pulled me over to a quieter booth, his arm slung casually around my shoulders like we were old buddies. He was smiling, relaxed, friendly.

“You alright, Alex? You’ve been killing it at the gym lately. I’m really proud of how dedicated you’ve been.”

I smiled drunkenly. “Thanks, man… yeah, it’s been good.”

He nodded thoughtfully, taking a slow sip of his drink. “With the wedding coming up, I’ve been thinking about something that might help you stay on track.” His voice was low, almost conspiratorial, like he was sharing helpful advice. “A lot of guys in serious training use a chastity cage. Sounds weird at first, I know… but it’s actually pretty smart.”

I blinked, trying to focus through the haze. “A cage?”

“Yeah,” he continued smoothly, chuckling lightly. “It keeps everything… protected during intense workouts. Stops unnecessary strain or movement down there. And since you and Sylvie are waiting until the wedding night, it could help you stay disciplined. No distractions, no slip-ups. You build up all that anticipation for her. Makes the night even more special, you know?”

He made it sound so reasonable, so thoughtful. Like a helpful training tool rather than anything humiliating.

I laughed awkwardly, my face heating up. “I don’t know… that seems kinda…”

Damien waved it off gently. “Hey, no pressure at all, bro. Just something I’ve seen work for guys who are serious about their goals. You’ve got a good thing going with Sylvie. This could be a way to show real commitment.” He patted my shoulder warmly. “Think about it. I can help you find a comfortable one if you ever want. Nothing crazy.”

I nodded slowly, the **** making his words swirl around in my head. It almost made sense the way he explained it.

Meanwhile, Emily was back on the dance floor, pressed between two muscular black guys, clearly enjoying herself. Women around us kept ignoring guys like me in favor of them. The contrast made me feel smaller than usual, but the drinks kept everything feeling mostly fun.

Damien raised his glass with an easy smile. “To staying strong for the big day.”

We clinked glasses and drank more.

By the end of the night I was completely hammered stumbling, laughing too loud, and replaying Damien’s subtle suggestion in my foggy mind. Damien and Emily helped me into an Uber and I somehow made it back to the house.

I barely remember walking through the front door. The living room lights were dim. Sylvie must have already gone to bed.

I took two wobbly steps toward the couch, the room spinning hard, and collapsed face-first into the cushions with a heavy thud. My head was still spinning with music, spade tattoos, and the weirdly reasonable sound of Damien’s voice.

Everything went black.