(Chapter 1 is at viewtopic.php?p=133717#p133717)
Having an orgasm while your cock is locked inside a steel chastity cage is an interesting experience. A complicated one. And a new one for me that night with Erica. On a purely physical level, I found it slightly painful, slightly pleasant, and very frustrating. I felt a need to pump extra hard and I tried. Oh, I tried, using every Kegel muscle I could, feeling like I had to pump extra hard to clear the blocked plumbing. My cock, a throbbing shade of purple I’d never seen before, was crammed painfully into the cage with all the normal swelling that would give it size (I’m a grower) instead compressing all the internal pipes. My body sensed this somehow, and I pumped extra hard and for longer than usual, but when it was all done, I didn’t feel empty. I felt like my cock was still half full of cum. It was an odd, uncomfortable feeling.
And my balls hurt. I’m used to that, like it really, but this was more of an annoying pain than a pleasurable one. I tried squeezing out the trapped cum, but the cage, or really the ring behind my balls, seemed to limit how hard I could squeeze. All the normal functions down there had felt weaker, less coordinated, off a bit. The puddle of cum Erica collected in the towel was a third the size I expected it to be.
And that was just the physical stuff. Mentally it was a huge mind-fuck. I had this strange feeling of objectification that I didn’t really understand until later that night as I lay awake thinking. I was supposed to cum from fucking something – a woman’s pussy, her ass, her mouth, her hand, her tits. But I couldn’t fuck anything with the cage on. Instead, I came for her entertainment. By making me cum in my cage, Erica made me cum for her enjoyment, not mine. From dancing with Melbourne, I knew chicks like to make guys cum, but in that environment, they had to unlock us first. You want the eruption, take off the cage.
But Erica ignored that little rule. Nope, cage stays on, but boy still performs. My cock wasn’t allowed to set any conditions, Erica made it do what she wanted it to do, and under the conditions she wanted too. Which was very, very hot.
Like I said, a mind-fuck.
I had a lot of time to think about it too that night. I’d never slept wearing the cage before, and it was more uncomfortable than I’d expected. Dancing, wearing it for a few hours of a show, sometimes the weight got a little heavy, and you definitely felt the constraint when your cock was responding to the women’s attention by trying to get hard inside. But it had never been really uncomfortable during a show.
But trying to sleep, it just… tugged. Or pinched. Or poked. Whichever way I tried to lay, the cage was there, making me think about it. Of course later on when I was used to being kept caged more or less indefinitely, it was fine. I just needed to get used to it, and that first night I was not used to it.
So I didn’t sleep much. And I thought a lot about Erica, who was sleeping naked beside me, the key still around her neck.
The key? A key. Could be the key, but we didn’t know. For all I new, some cop had thrown my key into an evidence locker earlier that night, after the fracas at the club. If her key didn’t work – and I really hoped it did for more than one reason – I was going to have to figure out how to get Trina to unlock me, or else find a way out of the cage. Maybe cut the lock off with bolt cutters. Of course, I had another problem – I had no clothes. I was in a strange woman’s apartment. Well, not strange. Not after last night. Didn’t seem right to think of her as a stranger after what, well, everything, sexual and otherwise. But I was in her apartment and had no clothes. I also didn’t expect she had anything that would fit me.
I didn’t particularly want to walk down the hall nude and run into Mrs. Douglass again. Well, that wouldn’t be so bad, she was cool. But even she was clear the rest of the denizens of this ritzy building probably wouldn’t appreciate a nude dude with a steel chastity cage running around the place looking for the Uber pickup spot.
I finally drifted off to sleep and dreamed half-baked schemes about how to get home and get unlocked. Somehow in the dreams I had to get the cage off before I went home, so that meant I had to stop at a hardware store and buy bolt cutters naked.
I woke to my balls being ripped off. Or so I thought. My cock was hard, or at least as hard as it could get in the cage, and it was yanking on my balls again. It took a minute to get things under control, and then I realized it was already light out. Erica wasn’t sleeping in the bed. The smell of shampoo hung in the air and the fan was going in the bathroom.
I stood up, still naked and caged, and thought briefly about wrapping myself with a towel or sheet, but decided that would be weird after last night. I peeked in the bathroom, but it was empty. She’d showered recently though. “Hey,” I thought. “If I’m lucky, Erica’s key will unlock me.” She had said she’d try it in the morning, and it was morning. I was also a little hungry. I walked out of the bedroom into the living room. She wasn’t there but I smelled coffee coming from the kitchen. I walked around the corner.
And stopped in my tracks. Erica was sitting at the kitchen table with another woman. A bit older, in her forties, petite but hard looking. No nonsense. The woman looked at me with no trace of surprise, then her eyes trailed down my body to my caged cock. My morning wood hadn’t completely subsided, and her looking at it caused it to chub out again. Erica was looking down into her coffee cup, like a child who was in trouble.
“You must be the dancer,” the older woman said. “Come here and let me see that thing.” She held her hand out level with my crotch. I didn’t know who she was, but her confident attitude was very compelling. I found myself taking two steps forward and placing my balls in her upturned hand.
She took a rather firm grip and with her other hand began turning the cage this way and that. She examined the lock, the ring, poked at my cock through the metal bars as it swelled further inside the cage. She appeared very fascinated with the cage. Erica finally spoke up.
“Morning, Babe,” she said. “This is Theresa. She’s my dad’s campaign manager. I’ll get you some coffee.”
“These would come in handy for several of my clients,” Theresa said, still fondling the cage. “Keep them out of trouble.” She glanced at Erica as Erica fetched another coffee mug from the cupboard. “Don’t know what will help with that one though.”
Theresa looked up at me. “I suppose I should thank you for what you did last night. You helped avoid a big problem for the campaign.”
I looked back at her, not entirely sure what to say. Her face was attractive but marked with too much stress. Her eyes were active, her mouth was small and firm and neither betrayed any emotion. “I’m glad I could help” I finally said. She looked back at my caged cock, gave my balls a quick squeeze as a way of ending her examination, and let go of me.
Erica handed my a cup of coffee and sat back down, returning to being in trouble. I stood there with my crotch still in front of Theresa’s face, not knowing quite what to do.
“Unfortunately, last night didn’t go so well for your boss,” she said. “There’s a huge stink brewing over it.”
“I need to get a hold of her,” I said. “She has all my clothes, my phone, my wallet. And the key to get me out of this thing.” Theresa looked at the cage again.
“I thought Erica had that key,” she said.
“Well, maybe, but she never got around to trying it last night,” I said, feigning a little hurt and trying to hint that we should try the key now.
“No time for that nonsense now,” Theresa said, putting an end to my little ploy. I got the idea she liked having me naked and caged. “I’ve been talking with Trina, your boss, and I’m going to get you to her house where she has all your stuff and can get you sorted out.”
“Thank you,” I said. “How is she?”
“A bit worried,” Theresa said. “She’s going to have to do some fancy dancing herself to stay out of legal trouble over this. But, she seems like a woman who’s capable of that. I can’t afford to help her of course, but I would if I could.”
She grabbed my caged cock again. “But first we need to get you some clothes. Can’t really walk you through the lobby with this hanging out, no matter how much I’d like to do it. So I’m going to go buy you something to wear for the ride to Trina’s. I figure you’re a Large? What size shoes do you wear?”
“Thirteen,” I said.
She looked at my cock, trapped in the small steel cage. “Well, the old saying about big feet doesn’t work with it locked up in there.”
“I’m a grower,” I said, a little defensively.
“I’m sure you are, Dear.” Theresa smiled. “Just not while you’re wearing that. Okay, enough jabbering, I’m going to get you some clothes. I won’t take long.” She got up, gave my balls another squeeze, looked at Erica who kept her head down, and walked out the door.
I walked over behind Erica and bent down to kiss her on the side of the neck. She giggled a little. “That tickles.”
“Are you okay?” I asked. “You look like you’re in trouble.”
“No,” she brightened and sat up straight. “Not really, you saved me from that last night. It’s just, oh, that woman always makes me feel like a fuck-up. She’s so bossy and all business and bitchy. And runs my dad’s whole operation. It’s like I have a step-mom and I can never live up to her expectations.”
“She’s gone for a little while,” I said, caressing Erica’s shoulders. “And you didn’t have any trouble meeting my expectations. Maybe you can see if that key of yours works and I can prove I really am a grower.”
Erica pouted and shrugged her shoulders. “Theresa took the key. She made me give it to her.” Erica looked up at me apologetically. “I’m sorry, I can’t unlock you. But,” her face brightened, “I could make you cum in your cage again, like last night!”
She began working over my balls like she had before. I didn’t know at first if I wanted to go through that frustration again or not, but very quickly I gave in to the pleasure of her hands fondling my poor balls. I closed my eyes and sighed. It wasn’t long before I took a deep breath in and whispered “I’m really close. Better get a towel.”
“Un-uh, no towel.” she said. I looked down and saw her put her lips over the end of my cage. I could feel her tongue flicking across the parts of my cock that were bulging through the bars. Her hands kept working on my balls, and suddenly I felt that same odd, frustrating sensation of not being able to pump hard enough as I strained to ejaculate through my compressed, constrained cock.
Whatever I did manage to pump out went into her mouth and she swallowed. When it was over, she pulled her lips off my cage and smiled up at me. “I only like the taste of cum after I’ve had some coffee, but I love it then.” I had that same still-full feeling as the night before.
We sat and cuddled on the couch for a while after that, watching some cooking show on TV that reminded me I hadn’t eaten for a while. I was about to ask Erica if she was hungry when the door opened and Theresa barged back in with a shopping bag.
“Here are your clothes,” she said, putting the bag down on a table near the door. “Get dressed, we have to go.”
I looked at Erica and she nodded. I got up and went to the table. Inside the bag was a shoebox with a pair of size 13 loafers like you see yachties wearing, a dark maroon t-shirt with a surfboard on it, and a pair of light gray sweat pants made of very stretchy material. I fished around but saw no underwear.
“You don’t need any underwear,” Theresa said, seeming to read my mind. “But you probably want to cut the tags off things.” Erica came over to me and opened a drawer in the table. Inside were a pair of scissors and a couple of pens. She mouthed “phone number” and pointed at the pens. I smiled. I cut the tag off the sweat pants and quickly wrote my number on it and dropped it into the drawer without Theresa seeing. Then I pulled on the pants. They were pretty tight and the cage made a very prominent bulge in them. The outline of the lock and the bars of the cage were obvious. I pulled the shirt on. It wasn’t very long and barely met the top of the sweats. It didn’t do anything to cover the bulge.
“I don’t think these are going to hide much,” I said. Theresa turned and looked. A small little wicked smile played over her face.
“I didn’t think they would,” she said. “But they're enough for the lobby. You won’t be technically naked, that’s all I need. Hurry up, shoes on too, I have appointments this afternoon.”
I slipped the shoes on. I looked like a vagabond crew off one of the sailing yachts down at the harbor. Well, a vagabond crew with a metal cage locked on his cock. For the first time, I noticed the necklace that had my – or at least the – key on it, the one Erica had been wearing last night, hanging around Theresa’s neck. The key itself was invisible, tucked into her cleavage beneath the blue blouse she wore. This pseudo-step-mom was quite the accomplished mind-fucker. It occurred to me she could be a lot of fun, in a twisted sort of way for the right twisted sort of guy.
I kissed Erica, who giggled at my outfit. “Thank you,” she said. “For last night and everything.”
Theresa ushered me out the door before I could say anything in response, but I thought I heard the drawer to the table opening as the door closed, Erica retrieving my phone number. I hoped she would call tonight.
At first I was a bit self-conscious about the cage showing through the tight sweat pants, but then I remembered I’d walked down this hall completely naked, well, except for the cage, and that I’d spent most of the last 24 hours nude and caged in front of many women. I relaxed, it was fine, people could see and I even found myself hoping to run into Mrs. Douglass again, but no such luck.
We reached the parking garage, the same garage, using the elevator this time, and Theresa walked me to her car. It was a convertible Mercedes two-seater. We got in and she drove out of the garage and started across town. Trina’s place was east of downtown, out into the foothills. Neither of us said anything, Theresa just drove, her mind working over whatever problems she had to deal with today after taking care of the problem that was me.
As we sat at a light, Theresa’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, flicked her finger over it, and read something, scowling. “Okay, change of plans,” she said. “Your boss has the police at her house. Probably asking about last night. It wouldn’t be good for either of us to show up while they were there.”
“No, I suppose it wouldn’t.” I agreed. The light turned green. She looked around, then gunned the engine and took a quick left turn. A block later, she pulled up to the curb and parked. I looked to my right and saw a bistro with several couples, all fashionable since this was a ritzy part of town, eating breakfast. Lots of prosecco and mimosas and a few Bloody Mary’s were evident.
“I’m hungry,” Theresa said. “You probably are too. I’ll buy us brunch, since you don’t have your wallet.” She got out of the car. I hesitated. “What’s the matter?” she asked, motioning for me to get out.
“Well,” I said, getting out keeping my voice low. She walked around the car to my side and stood in front of me. “These sweatpants are a little tight,” I said. “The cage is very visible. The lock and everything.”
“Don’t try to tell me you’re embarrassed,” she said. “You love showing that off.”
She was right, I did. “But,” I said, “I was worried it might be embarrassing or bad for you to be seen with me like this.”
She laughed. “In my line of work, a woman needs a reputation as something of a ball-buster if she’s going to make it. Being seen with a boy-toy locked in a chastity cage has to help that.” She pulled the key out from inside her blouse and let it hang outside, visible. “So show it off for me,” she said, then she grabbed by package through the sweat pants and squeezed. I began to swell up again and the cage pushed out, even more visible under the thin, stretchy cloth. It wasn’t easy walking behind her to the entrance.
There was a very short line, but it was right next to the outdoor seating area and two women, maybe in their thirties, were eating breakfast just on the other side of the low metal railing. The one facing me was maybe three feet away from my caged cock, and she was staring intently at it. Seeing her doing that made it twitch and throb, which caused her eyes to go a little wider which cause it to twitch and throb some more. She smiled, looked up at me, then looked admiringly at Theresa, who was completely oblivious to this exchange, and said softly “nice.”
Tell me a story!
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Last edited by lockedforfun on Mon Aug 30, 2021 12:02 pm, edited 1 time in total.
That’s really well written. Thanks