It’s the morning of day 29. It’s a beautiful Sunday in the summer, but it’s probably too hot to do anything outside. Granted, that’s not what we had planned. My cock has been repeatedly caged for the last 28 days.
I haven’t cum in over a month. You surprised me by busting out the cage after we hadn’t had sex in a few days. It was vanilla, nice at the time. Now, I’d do anything just to feel the warm wetness of your pussy around my cock. Thinking about it makes me hard. Waking up on the couch with a massive boner isn’t unpleasant, even if my cock is a little sore from the 28 days of caging.
On day one, the click of the lock woke me up. I was excited, and started to feel my cock testing its confinement immediately. “If you don’t want to fuck me,” you said, “then you aren’t allowed to fuck me.” I guess making you wait four days was too long. From that moment on there were rules.
In the morning, the cage goes on. You insist on locking it yourself, just in case I have any doubts as to who is in charge here. I work out with the cage on. Sometimes, you’ll work out with me. Sometimes, you’d masturbate and make sure I could hear it.
The cage comes off when we shower. It has to be together, you insist. You need to make sure that I don’t try to cum in the shower.
The cage stays off on days that I leave for work, but comes back on as soon as I get home. When I’m not working, usually we’ll spend the day together with me wearing the cage. Since it’s been a hot summer, we haven’t done too much outside. Most of our days on the weekends are spent with me serving you – cooking for you, cleaning the house, orally pleasing you. You always kept the key on you, and would occasionally dangle it where I could see it. It was the worst tease.
At night, when we’d go to bed, you’d take it off so I wouldn’t have to sleep with it on. But, you would only take it off once I’d earned the relief – never an orgasm; you always made a point to say that I was definitely not cumming no matter what. I could watch you masturbate, eat you out, and do anything you asked, but that cage wouldn’t come off until you knew I wasn’t horny anymore. Sometimes, you’d have to slap my balls to make that work. Over the weeks, I swear they turned more and more purple – filling with cum that needed to be released.
The first week was fairly normal. I would beg you to take the cage off of me, and you would refuse. The theme of the first week was “training.” You made me cook on a schedule, clean on a schedule, work out when I said I would, and engage in hobbies when I said I would. There was more to training though. You would make me sit down to pee and watch – you called it “potty training.” You would provide very specific instructions on how to do your laundry – how to fold your clothes like you like them and put them where they belong. You’d make me clean sex toys after using them on yourself so I would know how to do it correctly. You gave me instructions on everything like I was a bratty kid who had thus far refused to help around the house.
The second week was all about humiliation and appreciating you more. You would tell me when, and how, you wanted me to do things. You’d instruct me how to correctly lick your pussy. You made sure that I knew to always thank you for letting me touch you in anyway – even if that was just to lick your asshole because you felt like it. This was the week you stopped using my name or pet names. I wasn’t “babe” anymore; I was “boy,” or “sissy,” “servant,” “cuck,” or “slave.” All of those had to be lower-cased because I was the lesser half of this relationship now. This was the week you showed me your dating profiles and made me talk to the boys you met on them. You’d shove every dick pic you got in my face, and make me take nudes of you to send to them. You wanted me to see how easy it was for you to have what you wanted – how easily you could leave, you said. I learned that I should appreciate you more.
The third week was all about punishment. I’ve never seen so many bruises on my ass, nor felt my asshole opened so often. One night, you made me bend over the couch and spread my legs so that my balls would hang low. You practiced aiming at my swollen testicles with your feet and hands. This went on for an hour and you never hit me harder than a little tap – until the very end when you slapped them hard with your hand. I fell to my knees – knowing my place. You said that you didn’t kick because you didn’t want to accidentally break something useful. You were referring to the cock cage.
The fourth week was all about denial. You denied me everything. I had to sleep on the couch instead of my own bed. The cock cage couldn’t come off at night anymore because you couldn’t see me and make sure that I wasn’t jacking off. You never said my name. You didn’t even refer to me as any of the demeaning things you called me for the previous weeks. You even started to deny that I had a dick at all. I was forbidden from doing anything without your permission. I had to ask you to eat, to use my phone, to use the bathroom. It hurt the worst when you denied that we were even a couple. I was just a dude living in your living room now – that’s all. One night, you made dinner for yourself. I had to fend for myself but you’d denied me the right to wear clothes so I couldn’t leave. By Wednesday, you stopped talking to me altogether. If you couldn’t nod or shake your head, you wouldn’t even acknowledge me. You would just sit on your phone while I had to sit on the floor. You’d denied me the right to use my own furniture too.
Then the day came. Day 28. Before you sent me to the couch you told me that you were happy I had made it this long, and that, after the next day, everything would be back to normal. You actually said you were sorry for what you had done in the previous week. You didn’t mean it; you laughed a little when you said it. It made my cock leak a little bit. You told me that the cage was coming off tomorrow. That I’d get to relieve my swollen balls, that I’d get to feel my cock in your pussy again. That I’d get to feel my cock throbbing.
I was almost too excited to sleep, but I did. I slept well. I dreamt of you.
I woke up happy. A little precum leaked out of the tip of my cock and through the cage. I’d heard the back door close, and figured that was you letting the dogs back in. I heard them running with the footsteps back to the bedroom. You’d told me that you would text me when I could come up. You knew I would be excited to get the cage off, and that I would want to fuck you like I’d never fucked you before.
Then my phone vibrated. “Come in :)”
I damn near leapt off the couch, and bounded to the bedroom. I reached for the door handle, and made sure the dogs stayed outside the room. When I was inside, I turned around to see you facing the doorway.
Being fucked from behind.
By one of the boys you picked up from Tinder. He was only going to be in town for work for a month when you met him two weeks ago. His dick pic was the first you shoved in my face.
“I had planned on letting you watch and then letting you fuck me after.”
I was flabbergasted.
“But Jared and I talked.”
I could feel my heart sink. I saw him look at the cage and smile.
“He’s only going to be in town for… FUCK ME, UGH! That feels so fucking good when you do that, baby.” He’d smacked your ass and stuck his thumb in your butt. “He’s going to be in town for two more weeks, and he’s going to be my boyfriend while he’s here.”
Fuck. I could feel my balls swelling. Precum was dripping on the floor.
“This is the first time we’ve fucked. We talked a bit more, and we have decided that you get to watch us every time we fuck because he’s going to live with us for those two weeks.”
I fell to my knees.
“Isn’t this great?”
“Fuck yes,” he said.
Tears were in my eyes, but I muttered, “Yes, it’s wonderful my queen.”
“I’m glad you’ve been enjoying the couch. This is his bed for now, cuck.”
I probably deserved this.
“I’ll let you out of that cage when he’s safely back in California. Then I’m all yours again. Maybe.”
That was four weeks ago. I don’t know when I’m coming out of this cage.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/tpqj4n/the_mourning_of_day_29_mfchastitycuckolding