#boyfriend!caleb

“you looked at him like you wanted him.” caleb had whispered, his chest pressed against your back as he shoved you in and locked the cage door for the first time three days ago. “you let him touch your arm. your bare arm.”

as he recalled your betrayal, his voice was not angry. it was worse — calm, resigned, absolute. like a sentence already written.

“i have to protect you from yourself, pips.” he’d added, hands sneaking through the bars and tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “you don’t know what’s good for you.”

he has been working from home since. he had a preferred spot in the corner of the bedroom now. and he slept there too, his purple eyes open and fixed on you in the darkness. never leaving you alone.

he fed you through the cage three times a day, always soft, nutritious purees or soups that he blended himself.

he even walked you to the bathroom and aided you at every step — he wouldn’t want you to escape through the window there.

“you’re my most beloved possession.” he told you yesterday, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw through the gaps as he wiped at the soup residues on your skin. “nothing else in this universe matters as much.”

you were not going to escape him. you were his. a collection piece he had paid for in a lifetime of psychotic dedication.

•••

on the third night, you broke. you crouched at the front of the cage, tears cutting silent paths through the dust on your face.

completely done with his madness.

“please, caleb.” you cried, your voice a raw whisper. “i’ll do anything. i’ll never interact with him. just let me out.”

he was already sitting in his armchair, a book open on his lap, yet barely reading its content. he was too enchanted by your precariousness. even... aroused.

he closed the book lazily, his amethyst eyes now glittering in the low light. something darker bloomed behind his pupils, making that lovely shade of purple blur. “anything?”

“yes.”

“so if i ask you to cut off all contact with the outside world, you would?”

your stomach sank at that, yet you advanced. “yes.”

“if i ask you to marry me in a private ceremony where no one else is invited?”

“yes.”

“if i ask you to let me put a tracker, a tiny chip under your skin?”

tears fell harder at that, the danger looming around caleb’s intimidating frame strangling you. you couldn’t answer from fear, from the sheer realization that the person you’ve known since childhood was so psychotic.

your lips opened, but no sound came.

he smiled, the corners lifting up in anything but a comforting smile. “you see, pipsqueak? you still have limits. you’re not ready.” he stood, approaching your cage.

“and you don’t mean any of the promises you’re making. you’re just saying what i want to hear so i’ll let you out.” he knelt then, uniform creasing at the knees, his eyes level with yours.

“but if you really wanted out, you’d do anything. even the things that scare you.”

he stood up abruptly, walking to the side of the room where a small table held your evening tea. he poured a cup, brought it back, and held it to your lips through the bars.

“drink.”

you obeyed — knowing he could put a stop to your meals altogether and doom you — sipping the warm, honey-sweet liquid. your hands shook as you held the bars, tightening your grip with every gulp. he watched you like a scientist observing a rare specimen, tipping the cup forward and making you take it all.

“you are so beautiful like this.” he whispered suddenly, removing one of his hands and bringing it up to collect your tears. “so sweet. so... mine.”

•••

the escape plan came to you in a panicked, desperate moment. you’d seen his eyes darken with lust when you’d adorned that pleated skirt that was a little too short for you. you’d heard him groan in his sleep too, the word mine being moaned by his hungry lips.

you were planning to take advantage of that.

so that night, when he came to feed you dinner, you didn’t open your mouth for the spoon. instead, you leaned forward, your lips brushing his bare knuckles.

“i don’t want food.” you whispered, your voice deliberately thick, trembling not with desire but with terror. but for caleb, so far gone, desire and terror were synonyms. “i want something else.”

his eyes widened at your words, but his face remained stern. “oh?”

“i can’t stop thinking about you.” you pushed out your whiniest voice, the lies burning your tongue in the most syrupy way. “about you fucking me. about your cock.”

“pips–”

“i’m so achy, caleb.”

and you reached a hand down, hiking the skirt he’d dressed you in that morning — pale pink, lace-trimmed, like a doll’s dress. his doll. you let your fingers brush the inside of your thigh, slip against the gusset of your panties.

“see?”

he set the bowl of soup aside slowly, precisely, each and every movement controlled and calculated. too calculated. he crouched, and his hand shot through the bars, grabbing your wrist suddenly, tight enough to make you gasp in pain.

he pulled your hand to his nose, and inhaled deeply.

“you’re not aroused.” he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. “you’re terrified. you smell like fear.” he released your wrist with force, pushing it back behind the bars, his eyes pitch-black. “you’re trying to manipulate me, pips.”

your heart hammered against your ribs. your plan was failing before being set into motion. “no, i’m not–”

“shhh.” he pressed a finger to your lips through the bars, that sweet expression you know and love returning for a second. “you’re awful at lying. i’ve known you since we were little. i know when you’re scared.”

he leaned closer, his breath warm on your cheek. “but you know what? i appreciate the effort. it means you’re trying to understand how this works.”

then he stood up, and your hope crumbled into dust.

“so here’s what we’re going to do.” he said, his voice casual, as if discussing the current weather.

wait, what?

“you said you want my cock. you said you’re wet. so i’ll give it to you.” his hands moved to his belt, unbuttoning his uniform pants. “but you stay in that cage. i’ll fuck you through the bars.”

wait, wait, wait…

horror washed over you, cold and thick, draining all the warmth from your body.

this wasn’t happening. this couldn’t be real.

you didn’t want this.

“no.” you choked out, taking a step back into the cage, hitting another set of bars. “caleb, please–”

“ah.” he smiled, a bright, insane twist of his lips. “so you were lying. you don’t want it. you’re just scared and you want to get out.” he tilted his head, mocking you.

wait, please, wait…

“well, now you have a choice. you either go through with your lie, and i fuck you through the bars. or you admit you lied, and i leave you in here for another week.”

your body shook, tears blurring your vision, making the terrifying posture of the colonel even more frightening. the promise of another week in this cage, of his constant, smothering attention.

felt like a sentence to a different kind of madness.

“i…” your voice broke, the two ideas dueling in your mind. you closed your eyes, trying to sort it out. “i don’t know.”

to no avail.

“turn around then.” he said, making the choice for you.

and it wasn’t a request.

with a hitching breath, you turned, facing into the darkest corner of the cage. you leaned forward, on your hands and knees, grasping the cold bars with one hand, while the other hiked your skirt up your ass.

“fuck.” he immediately let out a soft, hungry sound — it has been a few days since you had sex and he was pent up.

you heard his trousers rustle, and then his hand was there, between the bars, cupping your plush ass. his thumb hooked beneath the lace of your panties, pushing the fabric aside.

and then his fingers were inside you.

“aa-ahh.” you jolted, a cry sticking in your throat at his sudden intrusion. two fingers penetrated you, now pushing and prodding with vigor.

you were not aroused. you were dry as dust.

terrified.

“ah.” he murmured, his fingers scissoring cruelly inside you. “i told you. you’re a terrible liar.” he withdrew his hand for a moment, and there was a figment of hope.

only to hear the sound of him spitting into his palm. “but a lie has consequences.”

his eyes never left yours as his hand returned to the gaps in the bars. “so let’s try this again, pipsqueak. you said you wanted it. said you needed it. let’s see if i can make it true.”

he pressed his fingertips against lace and flesh, and this time he didn’t just push. he hooked them deep inside, dragging his spit-slick skin across the thin lace of your panties as he reached inside. your body convulsed with a sharp, unwelcome jolt as he hit deep, and a slow, humiliating dampness began to gather between your legs at his thrusts.

“aha.” he hummed, a low vibration of perverted appreciation. “there it is. there’s my pretty girl’s truth.” he curled his fingers inside your cunt, precise and clinical, scissoring them until you couldn’t help the shiver of arousal — and something else — that shook your spine.

“you’re responding. better than i thought.”

he withdrew his hand again, and you felt the cold air rush where he’d been, brushing your bare pussy. “don’t move.” he ordered, his voice cutting across the silence.

you remained frozen, tensed for what came next.

was he gonna leave you? was he–

you heard him spit again. a loud, leisurely sound, followed by the spatter of his saliva hitting the bars, the floor.

“spread wider.” he commanded sharply, and when you only hunched further away from him, he snapped. his hand shot through, grabbed the lace edge of your panties and yanked you back to him.

rendering you completely bare now that your underwear were torn.

“you don’t listen anymore.” he tutted, and you heard the rustle of his uniform as he leaned closer. “that’s okay. i’ll make you.”

then the cold, wet cloud of his spit slapped against your slit, already sensitive and responsive. you jerked in place, a gasp torn from you at the feeling of his sticky saliva.

and he did it again. and again.

“so wasteful…” he mused, spitting once more, this time letting the superfluous saliva drip down your inner thighs and onto the floor. “dirty girl! a little bitch in heat, dripping all over my fingers just to escape.”

his fingers returned, this time coated not just in spit but in the shiny arousal that had dried on his palm from earlier, making it all more disgusting. he drew it across your exposed flesh, smearing the juices back onto your clit, mixing it with the fresh dripping arousal he was forcing from you.

“i will let you walk freely around the house, but only when my cum is deep inside you. hm, how about that? you’ll be so full of me.”

and with that he fucked two fingers inside you again, this time smooth and swift. the friction has improved, now lubed by your neediness and his spit; your body, betraying you as completely as he had, clenched around him with desperation.

he pumped his hand fast, breathing sharply with the effort.

“you like it.” he growled, breathing hot against the bars near your ass. “your cunt is drooling all over my knuckles. sucking me in. you’re making a mess like a cheap whore.”

your panties, torn to the side, barely hanging on your inner thigh, were indeed drenched now, a dark, humiliating stain plastered against your skin. he hooked a spare finger into the broken fabric, rubbing it against your hardened clit.

“i should’ve spared them. make you wear them as my cum drips out of you.”

“s-shit.”

ignoring your muffled moans and whimpers, he removed his fingers and stared at them, admiring the glistening arousal he coaxed out of you. he brought them to his lips and licked them clean — now that there was something he could feast on, his eyes closing in a parodic mockery of ecstasy.

“so sweet. so you. even like this, disgusting and betraying, you taste like mine.”

your stomach churned, humiliation burning like acid in your throat. something else in your tummy twisted too. you were close — too close — to the edge of a climax you didn’t want, provoked by nothing more than his degradation.

“pl-lease…” you whimpered, before you could stop yourself; not even you knew what you were begging for.

“please what?” he whispered, a vicious kindness tinging his voice. “please let you cum? is that it, pipsqueak? you feel so guilty for being this gross, you want me to give you permission?”

he shook his head, a false pity dancing on his features. “no. you don’t get to cum like this.”

no further questioning was possible as you felt it.

“fu-fuckk.”

the head of his cock pressed against you, blunt and hot. no condom in sight. he pushed in at once, and there was a tearing, stinging pain as he forced his way inside your underprepared cunt. you screamed, the sound raw and broken in the quiet room, tears rolling down your cheeks as you held onto the bars for dear life.

“shhh.” he soothed, his hands gripping your hips through the bars, his thumbs digging into your meaty flesh. “you asked for this. you wanted this.”

he started to move, and each thrust was a punishment, a claiming stroke that shook the cage and you altogether. the bars dug into your palms with each thrust; your knuckles were white where you grasped them, clasping at them as if the bars could save you.

“you are mine.” he growled, his pace brutal yet disciplined, hips meeting yours through the tight gaps in hurried juts. “every part of you. every breath. every heartbeat. no one else will ever have you. no one else will ever know you like i do.”

tears blurred your vision fully. the pain had become a distant, numb thing, as pleasure consumed you entirely. you felt detached, floating above yourself as your childhood friend and boyfriend ravaged you like an enemy.

“say it.” he demanded, his thrusts growing erratic, deeper, a clear sign he would finish soon. “say you’re mine.”

your voice was a rasp, bouncing around the rattling cage. “’m you-rs.”

“say you’ll never look at anyone else.”

“–nev-r lo-ok a-nyo-lse–”

“say you love me.”

your throat closed. the words froze on your tongue, plagued by the harshness of his thrusts.

oh, you were doing so well…

he drove into you again and again, harder, and a new type of pain lanced through your core as his cock kissed your cervix. “say it.”

“i love you.” you finally whimpered, and it felt like a part of your soul cracked and fell away with this confession.

he groaned, a low, triumphant sound, and you felt him pulse deep inside you, his cum hot and persistent as it took shelter in your tummy.

for a long moment, he hung there, breathing heavily against the bars. then he pulled out. and the abrupt emptiness made you crumble to the floor of the cage.

he tucked himself back in, then crouched once more, looking at you through the gaps. you couldn’t meet his eyes. you couldn’t move as cum slowly oozed out of your abused cunt.

perfect.

“good girl.” he whispered, his voice tender again, like a lover’s. “you earned it.” he reached through, his hand gently tilting your chin up, his fingers brushing at your tear-stained face. “i’ll let you out in the morning. we’ll have breakfast in bed, like a normal couple.”

he paused.

“but not outside.” he straightened, smile dropping for a second. “not until i breed you for the whole world to see.”

you curled into a ball on the cushions, your body aching, your mind a blank, terrified white as caleb continued to caress you.

you had asked for freedom. he had given you this instead.

and you knew, in the pit of your stomach, that the cage was not the metal one.

the cage was caleb.

©pearlescenthoney 2026. do not copy, translate, or claim any of my writings or works as your own.

a sigh erupted from his weary lips. “pips...”

“don't pips me, caleb xia. you're grounded. no sex for two weeks.”

the silence that followed your decision was heavy. then, a cocky chuckle. low and teasing, baritone voice vibrating through the quiet room.

“oh? that's not a punishment for me. it's you who goes crazy when i don't get you off at least three times a day.”

and he was right. damn him.

he was a munch, a giver of the highest order — living for your pleasure, first and foremost. the punishment you’ve announced on the spot was actually a punishment for you. to not have caleb between your legs, sucking and slurping on your sticky cunt, or to miss out on him pounding your cervix with his mushroomy tip…

damn him.

“i–”

still upholding your ground, your eyes landed on the small, satin box on your dresser. the one with all your and caleb’s sex toys.

the one with the cute, pink silicone gag — the one he'd given you for your birthday, a solution for your bratty and unstoppable mouth.

a dark, delicious plan began to form in your twisted mind, and that could be seen clearly on your pleased face. your features were no longer dawning with anger, but with something much more merciless.

“mhm, is that so?” you purred, turning around from the big window and facing caleb. “let's test that theory.”

•••

he was on his knees before you on the bed, sheathed nicely between your parted thighs. the pink gag was buckled snug between his lips, his breathing a little heavier through his nose. his eyes, those vast, liquid amethyst pools, were wide and alert.

he could feel what was coming, and he was already fidgeting.

“okay, babe.” you cooed, running a hand through his dark hair, slowly tugging at his roots. “here's the deal. you're going to finger me. nice and slow.”

you could already see the gears turning in his head, his own mind trying to picture what you were planning to do to him. with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you spilled out the rest of your punishment.

“you don't get to stop until i cum. you will be sooooo close to my pussy… and you don't get to use your mouth.”

“mhmmm?!?”

“not. a. single. lick.”

a low, whimpering moan escaped around the gag, together with a sheer wave of saliva. his eyes screamed no, already pleading with you for a weaker punishment.

you were a minx.

“oh, yes.” you hissed, guiding his shaky hands up to your bare hips. “it's torture for you, isn't it? to be so close to my cunt, to smell it, and not be able to taste it.”

his fingers, long and dexterous, trembled as you positioned them at your entrance. and fuck. one flimsy touch and they were already slick with your arousal.

why? well, as much as you wanted to stay mad at him, you had been drenching your panties since he walked into the apartment.

“now…” you commanded, your voice a soft, dominant whisper. “make me cum, caleb.”

and, to make sure he was tortured just the way you wanted... you pushed his face down into your bare crotch — a small yet brutal invite to begin.

getting him achingly close to what he wanted to savor the most.

he pressed forward, his face burying itself in the junction of your inner thighs. he inhaled deeply, a hungry, shuddering breath that send shivers down his spine. the scent of you — sweet, musky, and intoxicating — hit his senses like a drug.

his eyes rolled back before he even began to penetrate you.

fuck, you were so cruel for this.

a sleek line of spit already escaped the side of the gag and streamed down his chin. his mouth is watering from the view alone, his tongue pressing against the silicone, dreaming of burying his face, not his fingers, in you.

yet, he complied with your punishment, his fingers sliding inside you seconds after.

and oh, it was agony. delicious, excruciating agony.

your head fell back as they curled, slow and precise, finding that spongy spot with uncanny accuracy. each pump was a testament to his skill, but also a reminder of what he couldn't do.

he couldn’t fuck his tongue into your weeping cunt the way he needed to.

“mhmhhm…”

he groaned, the sound muffled and desperate behind the silicone gag. his hips bucked slightly against the mattress, his body trying to simulate the rhythm of his tongue.

just to feel something.

“oh, yes... right there.” you moaned, your hands tangling in his brown hair. “do you feel how wet you're making me? all for you.” then, with a condescending tone, meant to sting. “and you can't even clean it up.”

that elicited a whimper of protest from caleb.

he nuzzled deeper into your thigh, his breath hot against your skin, spit smushing against you. his nose buried in your folds as much as it could, taking in your essence like a drowning man gasping for air.

he was pathetic.

a respectable, strong, dangerous man reduced to a pussy-drunk, quivering mess at your feet.

it was the ultimate power trip.

his fingers picked up speed, his wrist cramping with the effort to please. he was fucking you with his hand like a madman, but in his mind, he was only thinking about making out with your pussy for hours. making you cry and trash in his hold as he glued his lips to your nether ones.

“mmh-mh.”

his eyes, blown-out pupils rimmed by an almost nonexistent purple, were glassy with a desperate, hungry longing. they were begging for freedom, for a small taste of the heaven between your thighs.

 i need it. i need to taste you. please.

“’m close.” you hissed, your body abruptly tensing against his thrusting fingers. “i'm so close, caleb. fuck, your fingers are amazing...”

he made a new sound then, a helpless, frustrated growl that rattled his chest. he pressed his face harder against you, his lips, trapped behind the gag, pushing against your flesh as if he could force his way through sheer will.

his fingers curled faster, harder, perfectly angled. he was using every ounce of his strength to make you cum.

because your orgasm was his only release.

“s-shitttt!” you screamed, your body arching off the bed, thighs clamming against caleb’s head and pushing his face further into your crotch.

the wave crashed over you, blinding and electric. caleb's body went rigid, a long, tortured moan escaping him as he felt you clench and pulse around his fingers. he collapsed forward, his face still buried in you, his shoulders shaking with need.

he wanted to lap up all of your sweet release so badly, he could cry.

you held him there for a long moment, your thighs shaking violently as the aftermath washed over you. your hand dipped lower and stroked his hair, feeling his whole body trembling against you with need.

poor boy.

“shhh... you did so good.” you murmured, your voice hoarse from pleasure. “you made me cum so hard.”

a pitiful sound escaped him, his body still taut with unspent tension. he was a picture of misery, a strong man reduced to a quivering, needy puppy by your cunt.

it was exactly what you wanted.

alas, you reached forward and unbuckled the gag from his hungry lips. it came away wet with spit, a shining stream of it dripping down his chin and temporary linking him to the toy. he gasped loudly, his jaw working as he swallowed, his eyes shutting tight to keep his head from spinning.

your smell was making him dizzy.

“i'm s-sorry.” he started, his voice raw. “i'm so sorry, pips. i was reckless. i was an idiot. so please–”

he opened his eyes, and the look in them was pure, unfiltered devotion. “please, let me taste you. i need it. i need you.”

the begging was so sweet, so genuine, especially with the way he was now snuggling into your skin like an abandoned pup. he was not begging for forgiveness anymore; he was begging for your cunt.

...should you give in though?

a slow, cruel smile played on your lips, feigning ignorance. “and why should i let you, hm? i just came all over your fingers. i'm satisfied.”

a whimper of despair escaped him. he nuzzled his face harder against your inner thigh, his breath hot and uneven. fanning right over your soaked pussy.

“please... i need you. i'm nothing without your taste on my tongue.”

“oh?” you purred, suddenly acting considerate. “and what will you do for me if i grant you this one little thing?”

“anything!” he breathed, his eyes wide and serious. “absolutely anything. i'll be your good boy. no more unofficial, suicidal missions. i promise.”

he was handing you his will, his autonomy, everything, just for the chance to press his face between your legs again.

it was an irresistible offer.

“fine.” you said after a long pause, your voice finally softening. “lick me clean. all of it. and don't you dare stop until i tell you you're done.”

“yes, yes, yes.” a sound of sheer relief and eagerness escaped him. “thank you. thank you. thank y–”

and with that, he dived in.

it wasn't the hungry, ferocious feast you had originally denied him. it was something deeper, more adoring. he lapped at you with a worshipful, almost sacred devotion. his tongue was slow, circling, cleaning every fold and crevice with painstaking care.

he drank you down like you were holy nectar, his eyes closed in bliss, lips only parting to let moans out and your sweet release in.

he was not just tasting you; he was communing. he was re-claiming his place, his purpose. he was your whipped good boy.

and this was his penance and his absolution.

the second orgasm crept up on you unexpectedly fast. it wasn't the sharp, shouting climax from before; it was a deep, rolling wave that spread warmth from your core to your fingertips. it was a softer, more intimate surrender.

“f-fuckk, so nice, babe.”

caleb felt it too. he hummed against your pussy, the vibrations sending one final, pleasurable shiver through you. and he didn't stop, not even when you cried out and your hands clenched in his hair. he kept going, dragging your hips closer, lapping gently, soothing you through the orgasm.

finally, when you were boneless and sensitive, shivering with pleasure, you pulled him by his hair from between your legs. and shit, if that wasn’t a sight to behold: his lower face glossy, his lips swollen, his eyes hazy with pleasure and relief.

beyond dunk on your pussy.

“there.” you whispered, dipping forward and wiping the slick covering his chin with two fingers. only to pop them into his mouth. “all is forgiven...”

“mh-mhmm.” he welcomed you with eagerness, sucking at your slick-coated fingers unprompted.  

“…my good boy.”

©pearlescenthoney 2025. do not copy, translate, or claim any of my writings or works as your own.