Story: My Cuckold, My ATM

 

Look at you, pathetic, locked in that tiny cage, that little lock screaming who’s in charge here. Months, baby, months you’ve been trapped, your desire rotting away while I soar higher every damn day. You know why I’m glowing? Because you, my pitiful financial cuckold, pay for every inch of my happiness. That red lace lingerie hugging my body, the designer heels that make jaws drop, the spa treatments leaving my skin like silk—all of it comes from your wallet. And you? You’re stuck in that cage, not even allowed to touch me.Last night, while you were here, alone, with that cage squeezing you tight, I was with him. A real man, baby, one who doesn’t beg or pay to have me. Someone bigger, stronger, who made me scream in ways you can only dream of. I wore the lingerie you bought, and he tore it off with a look that said I was his for the night. Every orgasm he gave me—multiple, earth-shattering, one after another—was a reminder of what you’ll never have. And while I was lost in ecstasy, the keys to your cage dangled from my neck like a trophy of my power over you.I told him about you, you know. I laughed as I said, “My cuckold’s locked up, paying for all this while I have fun.” He laughed with me, kissed my neck, and gave me more than you ever could. And when I was done, when my body was trembling from all that pleasure, I thought of you. Not because I miss you, no. Because I know your place is here, humiliated, obeying, cleaning up the mess my lovers leave behind. That’s right, cuckold. You’re going to get on your knees and clean every trace of my pleasure, because that’s all a pathetic thing like you deserves.Look me in the eyes. You’re my ATM, my slave, my cuckold. You pay for my luxury, my nights of ecstasy, and you have no choice but to obey. Every time I spend your money on a whim, every time I get dolled up for another man, you sink deeper into your cage, more frustrated, more mine. And when I tell you to clean, you’ll do it, because you know your only purpose is to serve me. Now, stare at these keys hanging from my neck and remember: they’re proof that I’m everything, and you’re nothing without me.