Edge For Me

It’s just a normal Sunday night. We’ve done our workouts, had some dinner, watched some TV and now it is bath time. As usual, you start the water, put in the bath bomb, get my water and phone and Kindle and strip naked to wait for me.

I slowly start taking off my clothes, watching your eyes follow every reach and each bit of skin that is revealed. I take just a little more time than usual enjoying the tease and the slight twitch of your cage.

I finish undressing and I bend just so to step into the tub. I slip into the water and lay back, waiting for you to place my water, phone and Kindle on the tray that is across the tub. Then you turn, pick up my discarded clothes and turn to leave.

“Do you need anything else?” you ask.

“Yes. I think I’d like a glass of wine. And, oh, also unlock before you come back please.” I settle back against the pillow with my phone and start scrolling.

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply and close the door. I open my Kindle and start reading. I can hear you in our room, key jangling and then the clink of the cage as you place it on the counter. Then you pass by the door on the way to the kitchen to get my wine. A couple of minutes go by and then there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in.” You open the door and give me my glass of wine. I close the Kindle and then take a sip and put it down. You are standing there waiting for my next direction and getting hard as you wonder what’s next.

“Edge for me, please.” I say and lean back against the pillow, wine glass in hand.

You look uncomfortable but begin to stroke yourself. You look away and I call you back. “Please look at me.” You turn a bit red, but obey, keeping eye contact. After a couple of minutes, you get right to the edge and stop, waiting. “Again, please.”

This goes on for another seven times as I sit there watching you. Occasionally I pick up my phone and take a picture and then resume my silent observation. You are starting to sweat and it is getting harder to stop each time.

After the last time, I start to get out of the tub. You grab my towel and hand it to me. “Thank you,” I say. “You may go lock up again. But thank you. I appreciated my private show.”