The Boyfriend Betterment Mission

I started the program last week. Two girls, both in tight black latex, locking losers in steel cages. Allie and I hang the cage from the ceiling so the cheater dangles, balls swinging free below the bars. We push a thick clear tube over his cock and tape it down tight, no touching, nowhere to hide. Then we start. Slow strokes, a brush of gloved fingers, a warm tongue that stops the second he tries to thrust. One of us blonde, the other brunette, trading places, laughing when the metal rings and the cage starts to sway. He stays locked. Hours pass. Sweat runs down his chest. His cock keeps jerking in the tube, angry red, circumcised head shiny and raw, but every time he swells we pull away. Allie smirks up at him through the bars and says the rules again: girlfriends get real dick, cheaters get this. The cage creaks, his breath hisses, and still neither of us lets him finish.