Laila and Jason are back

The bar was low-lit, tucked near the cliffside with waves crashing faintly below. It was private, quiet, and familiar.

Claire and John arrived first, and not long after, Laila entered—wearing a wrap dress, sandals, and that knowing smirk that always made John slightly nervous.

Jason followed behind her, calm as ever.

The greetings were warm—hugs, cheek kisses, quiet laughs. But it was clear from the way Laila pulled Claire aside, wine glass in hand, that the girls needed their own moment.

John stayed behind with Jason on the open-air deck, pretending to look out over the water while eavesdropping as discreetly as possible.

⸻

Laila sipped her wine, leaning in. “So. Tell me everything.”

Claire grinned. “Too much to fit in one drink.”

“Then we’ll need more.”

Laila nudged her. “You’re glowing.”

“I’m locked,” Claire said softly.

Laila raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

Claire nodded, then glanced back at John. “He asked for it back.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Laila laughed, clearly pleased. “Well, I’m proud of you. And of him.”

Claire swirled her glass. “You two disappeared fast. What was that ‘secret task’ about?”

Laila’s eyes twinkled. “We’ll get to that.”

Claire raised an eyebrow. “What happened while you were gone?”

Laila looked around casually, then leaned in, voice lower. “Jason came inside me.”

Claire blinked. “On purpose?”

“No. It just… happened.”

“And?”

Laila shrugged. “It felt good. Like, really good. Too good.”

Claire bit her lip. “Are you…?”

“No idea,” Laila whispered. “Not yet.”

Claire just stared at her.

Then Laila grinned. “That’s not even the secret.”

Claire smirked. “You’re holding out.”

——

Laila smirked as she sipped her wine. “So. You finally did it, didn’t you?”

Claire raised a brow. “Did what?”

“You’ve got that look.”

Claire smiled. “He’s locked.”

Laila nearly choked on her wine. “Shut up.”

Claire grinned, proud. “He asked me to put it back on.”

“No he didn’t.”

“He did. Almost begged.”

Laila laughed, delighted. “You have to show me.”

Claire tilted her head toward the restroom hallway. “Come on.”

⸻

John blinked when Claire waved him over, following them both into the women’s room. He hesitated—but the way Laila looked at him, amused and curious, made his legs move.

Once the door clicked shut behind them, Claire turned to him with a slow smile.

“Drop your pants,” she said.

John flushed. “Here?”

“Yes. Show her.”

Laila leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You heard her.”

John exhaled, then undid his belt, slid down his pants, and stood still.

The cage was already snug—he was partially hard from the attention, and the steel made that impossible. His cock throbbed helplessly inside.

Laila stepped forward, eyes sharp.

“Oh wow,” she murmured, crouching slightly for a closer look. “Claire. You didn’t just lock him—you own him.”

Claire nodded, brushing her fingers along the top of the cage. “Every day now. He sleeps in it.”

Laila touched it—just once, gently—and smiled. “He’s leaking.”

“He does that a lot lately,” Claire said casually.

Laila stood up. “Good boy.”

John swallowed hard, burning from the praise and the humiliation.

Laila looked to Claire. “Well. You’re clearly ready for what we brought.”

Claire raised an eyebrow. “What you brought?”

“Oh,” Laila said with a smirk, “you’ll see.”

And with that, they walked out—leaving John to adjust himself and follow.

He never felt more locked in than he did just then.