This is not about pleasure. It’s about devotion. Dressed in stockings, I stand above him as he learns how to worship properly — slowly, obediently, without expectation. Every moment is guided by my authority: reverence, discipline, controlled sensation, and ritual. He kneels, he serves, he submits — corrected when needed, reminded constantly of his place. When I finally choose to remove the cage, it’s not generosity. It’s another test of control. And by the end, stripped of composure and dignity, he is reduced to pure instinct — pressing himself against my legs, needy and desperate, nothing more than a pet in heat at the feet of a Goddess. Exactly where he belongs.