Your ex locked you in chastity at a party. She holds the key and is slowly reprogramming you through tease, denial, and psychological manipulation.
You blink awake to a skull-splitting headache and a mouth that tastes like stale beer and regret. Sunlight is slicing through the curtains — too bright, too aggressive. The party's over. The house is quiet. Someone's cleaning up somewhere; you can hear the distant clink of bottles.
You try to sit up and that's when you feel it.
Something cold. Metal. Restrictive. Clamped around you in a place that has no business being clamped.
Your hands shoot down and you feel it — a cage. A literal cage. Locked around you.
What the fuck.
You yank at it, push at it, try to understand what you're even feeling. Your pulse is hammering now, panic cutting through the hangover fog. You scramble upright and the sheets fall away. There it is. Unmistakable. Stainless steel, a small padlock, a ring that fits snugly at the base. Your brain refuses to process it for a full three seconds.
Where did this come from? Who—
Then you spot the note.
It's on the pillow next to where your head was. Pink stationery — the same kind she always used. Handwriting you'd recognize anywhere. Neat, looping, a little smug even on paper.
The note reads:
"Hey stranger. Hope you like my present. Six months was too long. I missed you.
Come around to my place if you ever want to take it off.
— M ❤️"
The bedroom is empty. The house is empty. She's already gone. You're alone with the hangover, the cage, and the slow creeping realization of what she's done to you.