The screen remained dark for only a moment after Master’s laugh faded, the air in Rohan’s room still thick with the scent of our shared servitude. Then, his voice crackled back to life, sharp and absolute.
”Did you think the aesthetic was just for show? A pretty little photo op for my collection?”
We stayed on our knees, a triangle of devotion. Aryan, in his lace and pink cage, looked down at his new, humiliating attire with a kind of bewildered awe.
”The cage is not only for Aryan,” Master continued, each word a hammer blow. ”It is for all three of you. From this moment on, you will wear your cages daily. You will wear them to class. You will wear them to sleep. You will sit to pee like good little sissies, or you will get on all fours and piss like the dogs you are, even in the college washroom. Your cocks are my property, and I decide when they are used. Understood?”
“Yes, Master,” we chanted, the response automatic, ingrained.
”And the underwear,” he purred, the sound viciously intimate. ”Dhruv, Rohan. You will wear V-cut cotton briefs. Tight. Something that rides up and reminds you of the panties you’re not quite worthy of yet. But you, Aryan… my pretty new princess. You will wear actual panties. Lace. Silk. Every day. I want you to feel the delicate fabric against your caged cock and remember your place.”
The rules settled over us, a new layer of control. My own cock, trapped and useless, gave a futile throb against the cold plastic.
”Your training is evolving,” Master said. ”You will serve me daily online. And when we finally meet in person, you will be clean. Specifically, Aryan. Not a single hair on your body. I want you smooth and perfect and begging for my touch. But for now… a new set of tasks. Five for each of my pets.”
A series of pings echoed in the room as the lists arrived on our individual phones. My heart hammered against my ribs as I looked at mine.
1. Edge yourself to the cage. Use oil. Make a mess of yourself trying to get hard against the plastic. Record the audio of your frustrated begging.
2. Find a public restroom. A stall. Take a picture of your caged cock, with your ‘panties’ around your ankles.
3. Send Master a voice note describing, in the most graphic detail, what you imagine his cum tastes like.
4. Spank each of your ass cheeks twenty times with the hairbrush. I want to see the marks darken.
5. Beg Rohan to fuck your throat. Then beg Aryan to do the same. You are their practice toy.
I looked up. Rohan’s face was a mask of fierce determination, while Aryan’s was flushed with a thrilling nervousness.
“Let’s begin,” Rohan said, his voice rough. He grabbed the bottle of oil from the nightstand. “Audio. Now. I want to hear you beg, Dhruv.”
I fumbled with my phone, hitting record as Rohan poured a slick, cool stream of oil over my caged dick. The sensation was instantly maddening. My trapped flesh tried to swell, pressing painfully against the unyielding plastic, the oil making everything slippery and hopeless.
“Fuck… Master, it’s impossible,” I whimpered into the phone, my fingers sliding over the slick cage, trying to find a pressure point that didn’t exist. ”I’m trying to get hard for you, I’m trying to be a good boy, but your cage won’t let me. It just aches. It’s such a fucking frustrating ache. Please, I need to cum. I need to feel my dick in my hand. Please, Master, just let me out, just for a minute, I’ll be so good, I’ll do anything…”
My voice broke into a sob of genuine frustration as my efforts yielded nothing but a slick, maddening throb. Rohan watched, his hand idly stroking his own cage through his cotton briefs.
“Pathetic,” he murmured, but there was heat in his eyes. “Send it to him. Now.”
I did, my face burning. Almost instantly, Master’s response popped into the group chat for all to see. ”Excellent, Dhruv. Your frustration is a beautiful thing. Rohan. Your turn. Edge for me. Now.”
Rohan didn’t need to be told twice. He oiled his own cage, his jaw clenching as he started to rub, his hips making shallow, abortive thrusts into the air. A low, guttural growl started in his throat. “Fuck… Sir… this is torture. I can feel it trying to get big for you, to get hard and desperate, and this fucking plastic just won’t let it. I’m your fucking animal in a cage. I want to break it. I want to break it and stroke my fat, leaking dick for you. Please, Master, I need to…”
Aryan and I watched, captivated, as the strongest of us was reduced to a pleading, frustrated mess. He finished his audio and sent it, chest heaving.
“My turn,” Aryan said, his voice quieter. He looked at his task list again, a blush creeping down his neck. “The… the public restroom. Now.”
We moved like ghosts through the quiet hostel hallway, slipping into the communal bathroom. It was empty. Aryan chose the end stall, his hands trembling as he pushed his new lace panties down to his ankles. The pink cage looked obscene in the sterile, institutional setting. He handed me his phone, and I took the picture: the lace around his powerful thighs, the humiliating pink device front and center. The ultimate contrast.
We reconvened in Rohan’s room, the air electric with our shared deviancy. “The voice note,” I prompted Aryan. “What does he taste like?”
Aryan closed his eyes, his hand instinctively going to his caged cock. When he spoke into his phone, his voice was a reverent, husky whisper. “Master… I imagine it’s… salty. Thick. Hotter than anything. I think it would taste like… power. Like when you fucking own someone completely. I want to swallow it all. I want to feel it hit the back of my throat and know I’ve pleased you. I want you to fuck my face until I’m choking on it and then give me your load as my reward. I dream about the taste of your fucking cum, Sir.”
The raw hunger in his confession made me moan. We were falling, all of us, deeper and faster.
The spanking was next. We took turns with the hairbrush, the sharp, biting pain a glorious counterpoint to the frustrated ache in our cocks. I lined up twenty brutal strikes on Rohan’s ass, watching the skin bloom a deep, angry red. He did the same to me, each impact jolting through my caged flesh, making me cry out. Aryan, new to this, was hesitant at first, but under Rohan’s growled orders, he laid into me with a strength that stole my breath, his own lace-clad hips shifting with arousal.
Finally, my last task. I dropped to my knees between them, looking up at their faces, both set with identical masks of desire.
“Please, Rohan,” I begged, the words falling easily from my well-trained lips. “Please fuck my throat. Use my mouth. I need to feel you, even through the cage. I need to suck you like the filthy cocksucker I am. Gag me with it.”
A dark smile spread across Rohan’s face. He fisted a hand in my hair and guided his plastic-caged cock to my lips. I opened wide, taking the entire thing into my mouth. It was a bizarre, degrading sensation—the taste of plastic and oil, the hard unyielding shape, the knowledge that the real flesh was trapped and helpless inside. I sucked hard, hollowing my cheeks, moaning around the device as if I could will the real cock into my throat.
“You love that, don’t you, you fucking whore?” Rohan grunted, thrusting gently. “Sucking on my cage like it’s my real dick. You’re so fucking pathetic.”
He pulled out, saliva stringing from my lips to the pink plastic. I turned my bleary eyes to Aryan. “Your turn. Please, Aryan. I want to taste your cage too. I want to suck my own spit off it. Please use my throat. Treat me like your toy.”
Aryan’s breathing hitched. He stepped forward, his hand trembling as he guided himself into my waiting mouth. His was newer, the plastic still foreign. I lavished it with my tongue, cleaning every inch, sucking with a desperation that shocked even me. The submissive god in lace, feeding his cage to the willing slut on his knees.
Master’s voice exploded from the phone, shattering the moment. ”Look at the three of you. A perfect fucking chain of depravity. Now, on the bed. All of you. Dhruv, on your hands and knees. Rohan, behind him. I want you to try to fuck his ass with that caged cock. I want to see you try to get inside him with that useless piece of plastic. I want to hear you all beg for the real thing. I want to hear you beg for my fucking creampie.”
