"And remember," I shouted, "how you bring your toys in." He returned moments later, skidding along the carpet on his hands and knees, his rubber bone fixed between his teeth. He crawled towards us on all fours and deposited the bone on the carpet beside his basket, then settled himself back into it, cowering. The bone was about five inches long and not very wide, but the knobbly ends were a good inch and a half in diameter. I picked it up and stuck it in his mouth, forcing him to grip it between his teeth. Mr Loverman lay on his back, chewing on his toy, his arms instinctively raised towards his shoulders so that he looked as though he were begging. Not that he would beg, of course: he knew better.

"Cute, isn't it?"

"Just darling," Pamela replied. Her voice betrayed some doubt about what she was witnessing, but she was affecting a look of nonchalance, which was encouraging. "He looks like he enjoys his bone."

"Oh, he does, always. We have some quite inventive games with it, don't we Mr Loverman?" He nodded, turning the bone around in his mouth. "Yes, we find some interesting uses for it, don't we? And some interesting places, too." The remark hung in the air, Mr Loverman shrinking back into his basket in despair.

"Oh yeah?"

"Hmm, yes. Guess where 3;"

"No!" replied Pamela. "Surely not." Mr Loverman stared at me, his eyes wide with alarm.

"Yes!"

"Wow!"

"Care to see?"

"What, Graham with a rubber toy stuck up his arse? Too right." Mr Loverman cringed. Oddly, I think the use of his christian name added to his humiliation: I suppose it connected what was happening to the real person, rather than the abstract creation of Mr Loverman, and as such the resulting shame was all the more telling.

"Mr Loverman, the KY. Quickly." He made to stand up and I coughed exaggeratedly. Sensing my meaning, he rolled forward, turned on to his hands and knees, and once more trotted to the bathroom, his buttocks wiggling delightfully and his cage-encased cock hanging low and heavy. He returned moments later with a tube of KY Jelly fixed between his teeth and deposited it on my lap. I twisted the top off and handed the tube to him. "Better get yourself ready, puppy dog, you know what's happening next."

He squeezed the jelly onto his hand and began to lubricate himself as liberally as any man would who knew something long and broad was about to inserted into his rear passage. Half the tube seemed to disappear and his arse had taken on a frosted aspect. "Turn round, so we can see properly," I told him, and he shuffled across, presenting himself to our view. He had to work around the thin metal strip which comprised the rear of the cage, sliding his fingers to its side and coating his crack and arsehole. Squeezing out even more jelly, he covered his finger and slid it slowly into his anus, spreading it as deep as he could manage. I nodded. "That'll do. Fetch me the bone now, Mr Loverman." He bent forward and, with his mouth, picked up the bone from his basket, shuffling backwards so that he could turn towards me, and dropped it in my hand. "Jelly!" I said, and he lowered his head once more to retrieve the jelly. I squeezed some onto my hand, feeling the delicious coolness of the viscous substance, and spread it over the tip of Mr Loverman's bone.

"Okay, Mr Loverman," I said. "Turn. Prepare yourself." Meekly he turned on his hands and knees and presented his newly lubricated arse to us. I pressed the bone against it, sliding it up and down his crack, pushing with increasing force, while Mr Loverman, well trained slave that he was, assisted by pressing back against me. I positioned it against his arsehole and pressed firmly. At first there was too much resistance and the head of the bone was simply too large, but I twisted it downwards at an acute angle and instead of the entire extent of the bulbous end, I managed to hook just the base of it into him. Once I had a lever, I tilted upwards and pressed hard until I felt it slide in, parting his sphincter muscles. One vicious twist and the entire bulbous tip of the bone slid inside Mr Loverman's protesting arse. He screamed.

"There," I said, sitting back and admiring my handiwork. He looked so fetching, his bone protruding from his arse and the cock cage girdling his behind and genitals, I felt I had to preserve the moment, and reached for my camera. "Widen your legs, stick your arse in the air," I commanded. Mr Loverman obeyed mutely, like a dazed porn model, and I clicked the shutter half a dozen times, capturing the image of his upturned arse and embedded bone forever.

I gripped the bone and slid it up and down. Mr Loverman yelled in pain. I began to force it in and out of his arse, feeling at first the friction as it grazed against his sensitive skin before the lubrication spread and allowed it to thrust more easily inside him. He was sobbing constantly, his head rested on his arms in despair. The action of the bone would, of course, be stimulating him and forcing an erection, which the cock cage would be rendering impossible. The torment would be almost unbearable, I knew.

I turned to Pamela. She was watching wide-eyed, her expression a mixture of shock, outrage, curiosity and desire. I had no fears about her now: she would be drawn into the game easily enough. "This drives him mad," I said. "It turns him on, makes him try to get stiff, which the cage won't allow, and I know just when to stop to make sure I don't make him cum. He's been denied a climax for weeks now, but this provocation adds to his frustration. He almost begs to be allowed to cum. Can you imagine? Begging to be brought to climax by a rubber toy up the arse. Who'd have thought it? Smug, boring Graham from the office 3;" Pamela laughed and Mr Loverman, reality intruding once more, sighed heavily. "Do you want to try?" I asked. She made no reply, but slid off the settee onto her knees beside the whimpering Mr Loverman, and slid her hand around the bone. She tweaked it tentatively for a few moments until she found her measure and then, gaining confidence, began to prod rhythmically. A satisfied grin settled on her face.

"Can I feel him?" she asked.

"Of course. Please feel free." She slid her hand round and gripped his testicles, squeezing them and scratching her nails against them. Feeling the cage which encased his shaft, she ran her fingers up and down its cool metal, circling it as though giving it a thorough wank. Mr Loverman was breathing heavily. I could only imagine what was running through his mind at that moment. How could he have found himself in such a position? The idea of being toyed with in this manner by Pamela, a woman he found unattractive and wouldn't have given a second thought to, all the while being posed in such a demeaning position, must have been simply excruciating for the poor little man. And yet, despite himself, I knew he was getting a huge sexual charge from the moment. Pamela was looking somewhat flushed, and it was evident that the peculiarity of the situation was turning her on, too. She was still twiddling with the bone in his arse, but somewhat distractedly as here attention focused on his balls and cage and, probably unintentionally, her hand slipped, causing her to ram the bone deep inside him. Mr Loverman howled in agony and Pamela leaped back, her hands flitting to her face in alarm.

I grinned. "It's okay," I said. "He's used to shocks. But I try not to push it in that deep. It could stimulate an orgasm, and we don't want that to happen. Not until the cage comes off."

"And then what happens?"

I turned to her, a conspiratiorial grin on my face. "Whatever you want."