This dick cage fucking hurt.
There’s nothing more emasculating than waking up in a little girl’s princess bedroom, covered in pink sheets, with a tiny little pink cage crushing your dick and pinching your balls.
For the thousandth time, I wrapped my fingers around the smooth plastic, trying to see if there was a way I could slip my balls out and get free. But yet again, as soon as I tried anything, the pain made me quit. I let my caged dick slip from my fingers and beat my fists against the pillow.
How did I fucking get here?
A week ago, I wouldn’t have even considered doing any of this shit. Had I known this was what the job entailed, I would have run in the other direction. But now I’d signed my life away, and, like the frog in the pot of boiling water, it was too late to leave.
Even if I wanted to, what would I do about the dick around my cage? Go to some doctor and ask him to cut it off? Find a locksmith to jimmy the lock? I would literally rather off myself than face such humiliation. At least, with the congressman’s humiliations, he kept it all in-house. As far as the rest of the world knew, I was still the respectable, heterosexual guy I’d been before.
As long as my public image stayed safe, everything else was fixable. Hell, wasn’t that the bottom line in politics, anyway? How many politicians had done some seriously fucked up shit, but kept their careers because they knew how to keep it all under wraps?
The beeping from my phone snapped me out of my funk. It was six thirty in the morning–the congressman would be expecting breakfast within the hour.
I opened my closet to see a fresh garment bag hanging inside. It held a pair of gray boxer briefs and a matching gray t-shirt.
At least it was better than a jockstrap.
But as I slipped the boxer briefs over my caged dick, I noticed to my horror that the cage print was incredibly visible through the thin fabric. In fact, the underwear was so tight that it seemed to accentuate the cage even more than a jockstrap would have.
Was there no end to my torment?
After brushing my teeth and putting on deodorant, I walked downstairs to find the congressman sipping coffee at the kitchen counter.
“Morning,” he said, not looking up from his newspaper.
He was wearing a checkered robe, which was draped open to show he was just in his boxers. I tried to avert my gaze from his hairy belly, but found my eyes going there anyway.
“Good morning,” I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee.
“How did you sleep?”
I wanted to spit in his face or say something sarcastic like, “How do you fucking think I slept, dickwad?” But I knew that my only path to getting the cage off was to get back in his good graces. I’d fucked up with Tim, and I needed to be extra good if I wanted him to forgive me and trust me again.
“Well, sir,” I said meekly.
I started pulling ingredients out of the fridge to make the congressman’s breakfast. I snuck a few glances at him periodically, but he was engrossed in his newspaper. I’d hoped he might be checking out my ass. Not because I wanted to fuck him or anything like that! I just figured, the more he liked what he saw, the sooner he might release my cock. That’s all.
To my dismay, he only ate two bites of his breakfast before grabbing his briefcase and heading out the door. “Got an early meeting today, chores are on the counter. I want pasta for dinner tonight.”
Then he was gone.
I grabbed the list of chores and felt a pit in my stomach at the breadth of the grunt work he had in store for me today. It was all inside work, which meant I wouldn’t be wearing pants today. And it was tedious, too: vacuuming out the sofa, deep cleaning the fridge, doing the laundry. I would need to run to the store to grab food for dinner, so at least there was that. But that wouldn’t be until the end–for now, it was all undies, all the time.
With no other option in front of me, I set to work.
The morning and afternoon went by relatively peacefully, although I was bored to death with cleaning by now. At least my cock cage didn’t pinch so bad anymore, though I wasn’t too happy about the idea of getting used to it. Somehow, the discomfort felt like it was reinforcing my masculinity.
I am not meant to be in this situation, it said.
By the time I finished the congressman’s chores, it was after 4. I grabbed the shorts from the front hall closet, trying not to pinch myself as I stretched the tight fabric over my chastity cage. The nearest grocery store was several blocks away, so I decided to just walk there instead of grabbing an Uber.
Shopping felt almost normal, probably because I was able to at least wear clothes again. At least in public, nobody knew my dick was in a cage. They thought I was just a regular guy with a regular dick, not some beta fag with an older daddy calling the shots at home.
I perused the shelves, grabbing some premade spaghetti sauce, a packet of bucatini, some fresh mushrooms, and some cherry tomatoes. I had just picked up a fresh baguette when I heard someone call my name.
“Scott? Is that you?”
A middle-aged woman with long black hair and a gummy smile beamed at me from the end of the aisle.
I tried to tug my shorts down as casually as I could. “Chrissy. Hey,” I said casually.
She came over and hugged me, her bony shoulders poking mine. “We missed you at service last week. I asked Ashley how you were, but she said you were busy with your new job. How’s that going, by the way? Congressman Adrian is a real gem, I hear.”
I shifted awkwardly. “It’s fine. How’s Pastor Michaels?”
She waved me off. “Oh, same old, same old. You know, they tell you being a preacher’s wife is like being first lady. I don’t deny it!”
She guffawed loudly, drawing the attention of several other shoppers.
“It’s good to see you. I’ll let you get back to–”
“I wanted to talk to you about the clam bake later this month,” she said, her grip like claws on my arm. “Can we count on you and Ashley to help out in the kitchen? We’re serving the homeless,” she whispered like it was a slur, ”and we could use all the help we can get.”
“I have to see if I can get the time off work, but hopefully.”
“My my, he does keep you busy,” she said teasingly. Her eyes flicked down and caught on something that made her nose curl in disgust.
I followed her gaze and, to my utter and complete humiliation, saw the very defined cage print on the outside of my shorts.
Fuck.
She released my arm like I had smallpox and cleared her throat. “Well, I’ll let you get your shopping done.” She did a poor job of feigning a smile and walked away as fast as she could, her heels clacking behind her.
So much for being a regular guy with a regular dick. I was pretty sure that woman had never seen a cock cage before, so at least she wouldn’t know the full extent of my humiliation. But I could only imagine what she thought of me now, nor what she might say to Ashley or our pastor.
I had to get this fucking thing off my dick. By ANY means necessary.
When Congressman Adrian got home that night, the house was immaculate. I had prepared his dinner to be ready the second he walked through the door, presenting him with a piping hot plate of pasta right after taking his coat.
“Looks good,” was all he said before sitting down and eating.
I sat across from him, picking at my own plate. I was too nervous to focus much on the food.
“How was work, sir?”
He shrugged, not meeting my eyes. “Work is work.”
I watched him eat, unsettled by his sudden lack of interest in me. I considered telling him about my day, but I was pretty sure he didn’t give a shit.
“You look tense,” I said stupidly. “Do you want a shoulder massage?”
“Nope,” he said without looking up.
I slumped down in my seat. What the fuck? Was he punishing me?
Before I could say anything further, he finished his food and pushed his chair back. “I’m retiring early tonight. You can clean this up, and the rest of the night is yours.”
He looked up at me, finally meeting my gaze. “Just don’t fuck anyone else.”
So that was it. I was being punished.
“Sir, I’m sorry–”
He walked away from me without a second glance as I stood there awkwardly in my boxer briefs, cheeks burning.
It seemed I wouldn’t be getting my cage off anytime soon.
Waking up the next morning was even more hellish than the day before. Now my dick was starting to chafe, especially since it was struggling with my morning wood. I rolled onto my stomach and desperately tried to think of zits, old people, grapefruit–anything to get my cock to shrink.
No such luck.
The congressman was equally short with me that morning. He ate his breakfast in silence, and any attempt I made at conversation was met with one-word answers or grunts. I debated attempting to blow him, but couldn’t take the chance that he’d rebuff my pathetic attempts at oral sex. When he left, I felt like crying.
My chores for the day were again homebound, so I wouldn’t be wearing pants for even a moment today. I felt like such a little bitch. What kind of a man lets some guy take away his manhood? If I had half the balls he did, I would have punched him in the face and demanded he give me the keys. Instead, I’d let him lock me up and thanked him for the privilege.
As I scanned the list–polish the silver, hand-wash crystal glasses, iron all of his shirts and pants–an idea struck me. What if, instead of sucking up to him like a little bitch, I just found where he kept the key? Then I could let my dick out during the day and lock up when he got back at night.
“Fucking dumbass,” I muttered to myself.
The idea was so obvious I felt like an idiot for not considering it before. The house was only so big, I was sure to find it before long. I started with the congressman’s office, the most likely place for it to be. The room was relatively tidy, even though he’d never asked me to clean in there. I suppose he probably didn’t want me in there at all, though I hadn’t been expressly forbidden from entering it. As I walked inside, I felt an odd sense of paranoia. What if he had cameras watching my every move? Would he know that I was rifling through his things? I might find myself in even more trouble than before.
I nearly turned around, but the feeling of my dick encased in this tiny plastic prison made me stop. I was a fucking man, not some little faggot bitch plaything. I needed to reclaim my dignity, at least a little bit.
I opened his drawers to see a ream of unorganized papers, pens, and paperclips. I would have to be careful sifting through it so as not to make it obvious I had been looking. I sorted through papers, trying to see if I could spot a glint of silver amongst the mess, but all I found were paperclips and the odd binder clip. The papers themselves were uninteresting, just a bunch of bank statements and invoices.
Out of curiosity, I looked at one of them. My eyes practically bulged out of my head when I saw how much money the congressman had. There was more money going in and out of that account than I’d make in a year, probably ten years, realistically. One charge in particular caught my eye, a monthly expense of $10,000 that came out on the fifteenth. I couldn’t imagine spending $10,000 on anything, let alone monthly!
Still no closer to finding the key, I shut the drawer and started checking the bookshelves. I don’t know if I expected some Indiana Jones-level twist where he hid my chastity key inside a hollowed-out book, but I got through about a third of the books in there before giving it up as a stupid idea.
In fact, if I hadn’t checked my phone and seen the time, I would have probably kept going well into the afternoon. But when I saw how much time I’d wasted, I realized with a sudden feeling of dread that I had left myself almost no time to finish my chores for the day.
With a quick sweep to make sure the room was as I’d left it, I closed the office door and set to work. Even going at double speed, skipping lunch, and not taking a moment to breathe, I only managed about half of the day’s work. I just had to hope the congressman wouldn’t check today, and that I could finish the work tomorrow before he noticed.
Thankfully, I managed to get dinner ready before he got home. He walked in in a huff, slamming his briefcase against the ground.
“Fucking Smith with his bullshit excuses,” he growled.
“Is everything okay, sir?” I asked warily.
“He thinks I can’t play with the big boys. As if I wasn’t fucking willing to play hardball like the rest of them. Goddamn asshole.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said meekly. “He’s an idiot.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, what do you know, you little faggot?”
I felt like I’d been slapped. My cheeks were bright red and, strangely, I felt my dick straining in my cage.
He looked at me and softened a little bit. “I’m sorry, kid. That wasn’t cool. Come here.”
He sat at the table and patted his leg.
Somehow, this was even more embarrassing than being called a faggot. Especially because, as I sat on his lap and felt him wrap his arms around me, I felt myself get even harder.
“You’re a good boy, even if you don’t know how to follow the rules yet,” he said, stroking my hair. He leaned in and smelled me. “Fuck, you drive me wild.”
He rubbed my back, then slipped his hand underneath my underwear.
I’m ashamed to say I moaned at the feeling of his hand on my ass. I was incredibly horny from not being able to cum or get hard for a few days, and his touch felt overstimulating. To my embarrassment, I started rubbing up against him as he felt me up.
“I fucking loved eating you out,” he whispered in my ear. “That pussy tasted so good.”
I felt his tongue in my ear, wet and hot. I let out a low moan, my skin tingling from the sensation.
“You know it’s only a matter of time before I get my dick in there,” he said smoothly. “All you have to do is ask.”
I felt his fingers slide in between my cheeks until the tip of his finger was resting at my hole. Fuck, it had felt so good the other night. What difference did it make if he did it again? It’s not like it would make me any gayer. And I was so goddamn horny.
I was about to ask him to slip it in when I felt him go stiff.
“What the fuck is that?”
He was staring at the counter. I followed his gaze and noticed, to my chagrin, that the crystal glasses and silverware were still sitting out. I’d forgotten to put everything away that I hadn’t finished.
“I–”
“Did you not finish your chores today?” he said angrily.
I looked down timidly. I couldn’t very well lie to him, not when the truth was so plain to see. “No, sir. I’m sorry, I… I ran out of time.”
“Bullshit,” he said, pushing me off of him. “You had hours to do this. Clearly, you were distracted by something else.” His gaze grew cold. “Were you out fucking someone again?”
My eyes grew wide. “No, sir! I promise–”
“Was it that fag, Smith’s boy?”
“I promise, I didn’t leave the house. I haven’t been with anyone.”
“You’re damn right you haven’t,” he growled. “You’re mine, you hear that? Your ass, your dick, your wet little mouth. They are my property. You don’t suck a dick, you don’t eat pussy, you don’t do shit without my say-so.”
He got to his feet and pointed toward the staircase. “Go to your room. You’ll clean this up tomorrow. I don’t want to see your face.”
I obeyed, trying to avoid the impulse to cry. How could I have been so stupid? Congressman Adrian expected obedience, and I’d been too blinded by my need to cum to follow orders. I climbed into bed and pulled the pink princess sheets over my head, trying to ignore my aching dick.
I was truly fucked. And so fucking, fucking horny.
The next morning, the congressman was gone by the time I got up. He didn’t leave a note or anything, so I didn’t know if he’d left for an early morning breakfast or because he was pissed with me. My list of chores was on the counter like usual, and my outfit (a matching black tank top and jockstrap) was waiting for me in my closet.
As I scanned the list, I felt my eyes start to tear up. I had tried getting back into the congressman’s good graces and only ended up alienating him further. How could I repair the damage I’d done?
What I needed was someone to talk to. Someone who knew the congressman and my situation and could give me advice on how to get out of this. I wished I could call O’Brien, but that was obviously a terrible idea. Lord only knows what Adrian would do if I violated my NDA again.
That left only one option.
“What is it?”
Downing’s voice was low and curt. I would have to be careful not to piss him off if I wanted his help.
“I was wondering if you could help me with something, sir.”
“I thought you were supposed to be efficient. Yet it seems I’m getting calls every other day about the most mundane shit.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said, my voice wavering. “It’s just…”
I found myself getting emotional. I tried to keep it together, but the words came pouring out.
“I don’t know what to do. The congressman is really mad at me, and I want to make it better, but it feels like I keep messing up. I don’t want him to kick me out. I’m trying to do what he says, and… and be a good boy like he wants, but this dick cage is making my life a nightmare. If I could just convince him to take it off, it would be so much easier to do what he wants and make him happy. Can you… Can you just tell me what to do? How do I make him happy?”
He was quiet for a moment. I couldn’t tell if he’d hung up or not.
“It’s funny,” he said finally. “When the congressman asked you to submit to him, I was sure you’d walk right out. Call his bluff and deal with the consequences. But you caved immediately. And then you kept caving, one thing after another. It was all just so easy.”
I felt a pit in my stomach as he continued.
“You’re not a man, Scott. A real man wouldn’t be looking for ways to sexually satisfy his boss just so he can get his dick out of a cage. A real man wouldn’t have let his dick be caged in the first place. So if you’re not a man, then your only way out is through. You know what you have to do. Give him what he wants.”
I heard a click, then the call ended.
My face burned with shame. Fuck him for saying I wasn’t a man! I was in an impossible situation, one that anyone could find themselves in. Sure, I could have made a different decision, but the consequences would have been extreme. Now I was in too deep to turn back.
The question was, was I willing to take the next step? I did know what the congressman wanted. I knew that if I let him fuck me, he’d probably take the cage off. I just couldn’t bring myself to take that step.
If I let another guy stick his dick in me, I could never again call myself a man. I would be the lowest of the low, a weak beta boy. A godless faggot, the kind I’d been warned about in church my whole life.
And yet.
The need to cum was so painful, so overwhelming, that I couldn’t imagine going through another minute of it. I needed to get off so badly that I was willing to do just about anything.
Anxious to avoid a repeat of yesterday, I raced through my chores as fast as I could, finishing where I left off yesterday and completing today’s tasks in record time. I finished in the late afternoon, leaving myself about an hour before I’d need to start making the congressman’s dinner.
I grabbed my laptop and secluded myself in my princess bedroom, locking the door even though I was home alone. With trembling fingers, I opened the screen and began to type.
How do I cum while wearing a chastity cage?
It was humiliating to even type the words, and I used an Incognito window to make sure no trace of my shame would be found afterward. As I scanned the first few websites that came up in my search, my stomach turned.
Pretty much everything was from some gay website, full of faggy shit that made me sick to my stomach. There were a couple of femdom-related sites that talked about chastity, but even those pointed to the same, unwelcome solution.
If I wanted to cum, I was going to have to play with my ass.
I couldn’t bear to face that as a possibility. Shoving something up my ass would be just as demeaning as getting fucked. Plus, even if I wanted to, it’s not like I had any sex toys I could use. The website did say I could use something like a hairbrush handle and vaseline, but that would be humiliating beyond belief.
I slammed the computer shut in frustration. I felt hopeless, and the throbbing in my cage only made things feel worse. I closed my eyes and banged my head against the headboard in frustration. Then I walked over to the bathroom, flicked on the lights, and started looking for a hairbrush.
I found what I needed almost immediately. It was a simple plastic brush with no grooves or edges on the handle. There was even a small tube of vaseline in one of the drawers, probably meant to be used as lip balm rather than to help shove a hairbrush up my ass.
I nearly put everything back and gave up, but the aching in my dick made me charge forward. I popped open the tube and started rubbing vaseline on the hairbrush handle.
I got on the bed on my hands and knees, not bothering to remove the jockstrap. After all, it’s not like I’d be able to jerk off while doing this. Cheeks (both front and back) burning in shame, I covered my finger in vaseline and reached for my hole.
The muscle tingled the second I applied pressure. I hadn’t cum in so long that I was extra sensitive down there–that was surely the reason it felt so nice. As I slid my finger around the outside of my hole, I felt a pleasant shiver ripple across my body.
Oh. Oh.
I played with my hole for a few seconds, slowly tracing my sphincter with my finger. It felt like magic. A bit of precum started to ooze out of my trapped cock. Without meaning to, I slipped the tip of my finger inside. I let out a low groan, burying my face against the pillow.
Fuck. Why did this feel so good?
I met some resistance once I got the tip inside, so I wiggled it to open myself up a bit more. That allowed me to slip it in up to the second knuckle, which elicited another groan.
Rubbing my face in the pillow like a cat in heat, I fingered myself deeper. The sensation was strange but electrifying, just as it had been when the congressman had fingered me the other night. I found myself desperate for more, as if my finger were teasing me before the real show.
Grabbing the hairbrush with my left hand, I reached back and lined it up with my hole. My ass felt like it was vibrating, and I realized I had been letting out a little drool onto my pillow.
No turning back now.
The tip of the handle slipped inside me with almost no resistance. I felt a pleasant feeling of being stuffed as I worked it inside, sliding it deeper and deeper. My dick was straining harder than ever, but any discomfort was outweighed by the pleasant tingling feeling coming from my rectum. I slid the hairbrush in me until it was buried as far as it would go, then lay there for a moment as my body adjusted.
Jesus Fucking Christ, this felt amazing.
I squeezed my hole around it. The jolt of pleasure that rippled through the rest of my body was a pleasant surprise. I squeezed it again, contracting and releasing the muscle like a valve. My locked dick oozed precum through my jockstrap, and I rubbed my face against the pillow as I focused all my efforts on my ass.
I had no idea ass play would feel this good. Was this why dudes were gay? I always thought that whole “seduced into the lifestyle” thing was kinda BS, but maybe there was something to the whole notion of being drawn into it. If an otherwise straight guy like myself could get so much pleasure out of being penetrated, I could see how it could lead to a downward spiral into a life of sin.
I pulled the hairbrush out a little bit and slid it back inside, enjoying the pressure on what I assumed was my prostate. I wished I could stroke myself while I was doing this, but not having access to my dick allowed me to focus exclusively on the feelings coming from my asshole. It was such a foreign sensation that not being able to touch my dick was kind of a blessing, as it would have totally distracted me from the feelings in my ass.
“Ungh…. Ohhhhhhh…” I moaned, drooling into my pillow.
I played with my ass for I don’t know how long, pushing and pulling the long, hard handle of the hairbrush while my locked dick leaked precum everywhere. I went for so long that, when my phone alarm went off, I jolted awake as if from a dream.
I grabbed my phone and shut off the alarm, thanking God I’d set it in the first place. I didn’t want to think what would happen if I were late with the congressman’s dinner because I was diddling myself with his daughter’s hairbrush.
I whipped up a dinner of risotto and chicken just in time for the congressman’s arrival. The precum stains on my jockstrap were painfully obvious, but I couldn’t do much about them with no other clothes to wear.
Thankfully, he didn’t notice. He ate his dinner in silence again, clearly still mad at me. I watched him hesitantly as I weighed my options, desperate to avoid another day of being unable to ejaculate. But as he finished dinner, my offer of a post-meal massage was turned down with nothing more than a shake of the head.
After cleaning up, I spent the rest of the evening with my head in my pillow, the hairbrush handle buried deep in my ass.
I must have fallen asleep like that, because when I woke up the next morning, my locked dick was sticky with precum, and the handle was still in my ass. I wiggled it around for a few seconds, moaning with the feeling of being so close to release but unable to achieve it.
The sound of a click nearly made me jump out of my skin. I whipped around, yanking the hairbrush out of my ass, but there was no one there–the door was still shut.
What had that sound been? It had almost sounded like the door being pulled closed.
I turned beet red at the implication. Had the congressman heard my moaning and opened the door to check on me? Had he seen my secret shame? If so, he gave no indication. He ate his breakfast as normal, although he did seem to have a bit of a smirk on his face as he did so. Did he know? Did he see?
The next couple of days passed achingly slow. Every spare moment I spent in the bedroom, ass up with that damn hairbrush buried deep inside me. I was so desperate to cum that it was all I thought about as I cleaned, vacuumed, and polished. When the congressman was home, I found myself staring at his crotch and wondering what that might feel like instead of the hairbrush.
No. I wouldn’t give in. I couldn’t. I wasn’t a faggot.
By the time Friday evening rolled around, I was crawling out of my skin. My dick wasn’t chafing anymore in the cage, but it was leaking a steady stream of precum that left me with a big wet spot in my underwear pretty much all day long. It didn’t help that my outfit was another jockstrap, this one white to match the too-small t-shirt that accompanied it.
As I had the last few days, I raced through my chores quickly enough to give me some time with the hairbrush and vaseline (both of which I now kept on my nightstand at all times). I was in the middle of going to town on my rear end when I suddenly felt a familiar stirring inside my balls.
“Oh fuck,” I groaned. I jabbed the handle against that spot again, feeling the pressure rising. “Come on… come on…”
My orgasm dangled teasingly out of reach, taunting my inability to cum. I rubbed my face against the pillow, squeezing my ass against the hairbrush as I tried to push myself over the edge.
“Please… Oh please, let me cum…”
When my alarm went off, I burst into tears.
“Fuck!”
I pulled the hairbrush out of me and threw it against the wall, shattering it into pieces. No matter what I did, I couldn’t find relief with this cage on. I was held hostage to the congressman’s whims, and there was nothing I could do about any of it.
I should have run away. I should have bit the bullet, found a locksmith who I could pay to keep quiet, and gotten this thing off my dick for good.
Instead, I turned off my alarm and headed downstairs to fix the congressman’s dinner.
I could feel my nerves growing as the chili simmered on the stove. To calm myself, I poured a glass of wine, the same bottle he’d given me on my first day here. It relaxed me a little, so I poured another. And another.
By the time the bottle was empty, the chili had finished cooking and I was thoroughly tipsy. I turned off the stove and had just started pulling out bowls when I heard the front door open.
“Now isn’t that a pretty sight.”
I turned to see the congressman grinning lecherously at me from the doorway. I had been bending over the counter to reach the bowls, leaving my cheeks spread and my asshole on full display.
“Dinner’s ready, sir.”
My voice must have been slightly slurred, because he raised an eyebrow and said, “Someone’s gotten into the wine a little early.”
To my relief, he added, “Pour me a glass as well, son. We’re celebrating.”
I grabbed another bottle and glass from the cabinet, then reached for the corkscrew. “What are we celebrating, sir?”
He loosened his tie, then sat at the table, spreading his legs open slightly as he looked my body over. “Smith’s finally agreed to put my name forward for Appropriations. It’s about fucking time. I could run that committee a thousand times better than that retiring fuck Hoover.”
“That’s amazing, sir,” I said, setting the glass of wine in front of him.
He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me onto his lap. “You’re damn right it is.”
He planted his lips on mine, his tongue sliding in my mouth as he kissed me.
I could taste scotch on his tongue, and knew he was probably already half in the bag. Tipsy myself, I went limp in his arms, letting him violate me with his kisses. His hand found my cage and squeezed it tightly, making me moan.
“You’ve been a good boy all week, haven’t you?”
I nodded, enjoying the feeling of his fingers on my caged dick.
“I bet you’re dying for some relief.”
My lip trembled. “Yes,” I said breathlessly.
“I’m flying home again to Texas tomorrow morning,” he said, giving my cage a little tug. “After dinner tonight, you’re free to go see your little girlfriend again. You can spend the whole weekend with her if you want. Just hope she doesn’t ask about your… situation.”
He gave my cage another tug.
I felt a pit in my stomach. Three more days locked in my cage? How could I possibly make it until Monday without being unlocked?
“Or…”
I looked up at him, eyes wide. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip as he stared hungrily at my lips.
“I could give you some relief.”
I nodded profusely. “Yes, sir. Yes, please. Anything you want.”
I got to my knees, my fingers sliding across his pants until they found his hard cock. Then I leaned down and started kissing it through his pants, licking the fabric to try and get a taste of his precum.
He smirked. “That’s not what I’m looking for.”
My stomach sank with dread. Downing was right. There was nothing I could do but give him what he wanted.
“Fuck me,” I said quietly.
He raised an eyebrow and leaned in. “Sorry. What was that?”
My skin burned with shame. There was no going back from this. If I did this, I was a weak, pathetic little fag. And now he wanted me to beg.
So beg I did.
“Please, sir,” I said a little louder. “Please fuck me.”
His face stretched into a wide grin. He’d won, fair and square. I was his now.
He got to his feet, then put his hand out to me.
“Follow me.”
I took his hand and stood, my eyes locked onto his. He reached down with his other hand and rubbed my cage, then grabbed it tightly. “Let’s go.”
Still gripping my cage, he led me up the stairs to the master bedroom. Every step felt leaden with emotion: shame, regret, fear, revulsion, excitement, need.
When he opened the door to his bedroom, I caught sight of the wide, king-sized bed. This was the bed where he had fingered me, stuck his tongue inside me. It would be the same one where he took my anal virginity.
“Get on the bed,” he said gruffly.
I obeyed, climbing on all fours. My arms and legs were shaking as I got into position. As I was still wearing the jockstrap, I could feel the air on my hole once I leaned forward.
“I’m gonna get you wet, baby,” he said as he put his hand on my ass. “I want this to feel good for you.”
I felt the bed sink slightly behind me as he got into position. Then, the wonderful, orgasmic feeling of his tongue on my hole made me cry out loud.
“Oh, fuck, sir!”
He grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me closer to him, burying his tongue even deeper inside me.
I felt a shock run through my ass to my caged dick, which must be leaking a puddle through the jockstrap. I felt his tongue riding up my ass, his scratchy chin sending tingles along my taint. I buried my face into the pillow and pushed my ass back against his face, desperate for more.
“Mmff… Oh, fuck, baby… Ungh…”
Adrian’s sounds of pleasure were muffled by my ass cheeks, but even so, I could hear how turned on he was by the taste of me. He must really wanna fuck me if he was willing to go through all of this just to be inside me. That made me feel a strange sense of… power. Was he really the one in charge? He had what I wanted, but then again, so did I.
All thoughts were washed away by his tongue. It sent an electric shock as it touched a special place inside me. My cock strained against my cage, so overloaded with pleasure that one stroke could have brought me off.
But then, all too soon, the congressman stopped.
“Nooo…” I whined, pushing my ass back greedily. “Don’t stop… I want it, please.”
He grabbed me by the waist and rolled me over onto my back. He was naked now, his hairy chest dimly illuminated by the bedside lamp. He looked good for his age, his body thick and tan. His cock looked absolutely monstrous as it poked out from his bush of pubic hair. I felt a slight queasiness when I realized it would soon be buried to the root inside me.
“I wanna look in your eyes when I take your manhood.”
He grabbed the back of my head and kissed me, leaving me dizzy. Part of me was so horny, I just wanted him to fuck me already. The other part of me was content to ride the wave, holding on tight as the congressman carried me to heights I’d never even dreamed of.
Adrian grabbed my waist and pulled me closer to him, yanking my head off the pillow until I was staring up into his sneering eyes. He knelt between my spread legs, his monster cock leaking all over my caged dick. He was in full control now. I was just a plaything to him, a conquest.
I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the straining in my cage.
“Don’t you dare.” He rubbed my cheek. “Look at me when I take you.”
Reluctantly, I opened my eyes. He had a bottle of lubricant in his hand, which he used to coat his cock in a sticky, clear liquid. I shuddered as I realized that, within moments, the giant, angry snake between his legs would find its home between mine.
“You’re gonna feel so good wrapped around my dick.” He worked the lube over the head of his cock. “It’s gonna hurt a little at first, but trust me–you’re gonna be begging for more by the end of it.”
“W-wait,” I stammered. “Shouldn’t we use a condom?"
He laughed. “You don’t trust me?” He aimed his cock at my hole, rubbing the slick tip against my tight sphincter. “Think how good it’ll feel… skin on skin… nothing in between us.”
He pushed against my hole, which was clamped shut. I tried to force myself to relax, knowing that the more I clenched to keep him out, the more painful it would be. But I couldn’t help it. He was so big and thick, and I was terrified. I didn’t want him inside me, but I did. Those two parts warred inside my mind, and I still didn’t know who would win out when I felt the head of his dick slowly start to press inside me.
I breathed in sharply. “Oh… ugh, no,” I whined weakly.
Adrian leaned in until his lips were brushing mine. “Shhhh. Just let me in.” He kissed me, his tongue enveloping mine like a snake. My body relaxed until I felt a sharp stinging sensation as the head of his cock popped past my outer ring.
“Oh, fuck!” I moaned in his mouth. “It’s too big… I can’t, sir–”
“You can, baby,” he said gently. “You can. Just be brave for me. You’re doing so good taking daddy’s cock. Just a little bit more, okay?”
“No, wait… slow down, I–FUCK!”
Without waiting, he slid another inch inside me. My insides were on fire, my hole being forcibly stretched against my will. But at the same time, my cock was still trying desperately to get hard, straining so hard in its cage that it was starting to turn white.
“That’s it… just a little more,” he whispered in my ear.
His cock slid in me another inch, this time with less resistance. The stinging sensation in my hole had lessened, leaving just a dull burning. No, not just that–there was another feeling underneath as well, a pleasant sort of fullness.
I put my arms around him and held on for dear life. “Just do it,” I said through gritted teeth. “Shove it in me.”
He kissed my neck and whispered, “I knew you could do it, Scotty.”
Then he buried the last few inches of his cock inside me in one push.
It hurt only for a moment, like when you get a shot at the doctor’s office. Then, before I knew it, the pain was gone, leaving behind only a slight ache and that same pleasant feeling of fullness.
“Take a moment and feel me in you,” he whispered. “You gave me your virginity, sweet boy. You were so brave, letting me in even though it was scary. I’m so proud of you.”
Despite his condescending words, I couldn’t help but feel a little proud. How many men could say they managed something as painful and uncomfortable as taking a dick? He throbbed inside me, clearly desperate to get the show on the road, but nothing could interrupt the sense of pride I felt at my accomplishment.
The congressman tilted my chin up until I was staring into his eyes. “Are you ready for me to fuck you now, baby?”
I was most decidedly not ready for that, but I knew the only real answer was yes. I nodded, sealing my fate as I gave the congressman the last bit of ownership over my body.
His big cock pulled out of me, inch by inch, until only the tip was left inside.
“Keep breathing, Scotty.”
He slid back in me, slower than his last thrust had been, but much faster than his initial penetration. I ground my teeth, trying to remind myself to breathe as he unmanned me. His jaw was slack with pleasure, his eyes glazed over with a dull lust as he savored the feeling of my butthole. Seeing how much he enjoyed using my body brought a strange sense of wonder, which helped distract me from the pain. This was a guy who could probably have any woman he wanted–hell, his wife was a total babe–yet he was here, with me, balls deep. Didn’t that say something about my worth?
“You feel like silk, honey,” he said warmly. He seesawed in and out of me a few times, slowly increasing the speed of his thrusts as my hole opened up around him.
The discomfort hadn’t entirely gone away, but I must have been feeling a decent amount of pleasure based on how my cock was leaking. When he leaned in to kiss me again, I grabbed the back of his head and held him against me, closing my eyes to focus better on the feelings coming from my hole.
It was loose now, relaxed enough to allow him entry without much resistance. I felt slick inside, whether from the lube or his precum, I didn’t know. Even after all my practice with the hairbrush, it was such a foreign sensation to feel him slide inside me. His cock electrified my insides, triggering the nerve endings and awakening some pleasure centers I hadn’t even known existed.
“Oh… fuck, sir. You’re so big… it feels…”
“I know, baby boy,” he moaned in my mouth. “You feel good to me, too.”
This time, I kissed him. I ran my hands down his broad back, feeling the coarse little hairs that ran along his skin. He felt almost like a gorilla, a hairy beast ravishing me against my will. Only it wasn’t against my will. I could admit that now. With the congressman’s dick buried deep inside my ass, getting ready to blow his load inside my guts, I had to admit that I was absolutely, undeniably in favor of what was currently happening to me. The feelings I felt in my ass were better than anything I’d ever felt when jerking off or making out with Ashley. Hell, I hadn’t even known this level of pleasure was possible. In that moment, the congressman felt like my savior. He had introduced me to gay sex, tearing the wool from my eyes and showing me just how good getting fucked by a dude could feel. I still felt a tinge of shame at being emasculated so brutally, but none of that seemed to matter anymore. All that mattered was that he was fucking me, and I never wanted him to stop.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he grunted. He heaved himself against me, his belly wobbling against mine with every thrust. “It’s like you’re milking me from the inside.”
I slid my hands down to his ass and squeezed, enjoying the thick hairiness of his flesh. His balls slapped against mine, pounding me deeper into submission.
“You’re gonna make me bust,” he said, choking out the words in between thrusts. “Oh, God.”
The words barely registered with me. Because right then, I felt a jolt of pleasure so white-hot it practically blinded me. My balls tensed up, and then a moment later, little jets of cum started shooting through my cage.
“Oh…OH! Sir… I’m… UNGH!”
My ass clenched around his dick with every dribble of cum, making the orgasm even more intense. My whole body trembled as I came, my legs shaking and bobbing against the congressman’s ass. He watched me like a proud father, taking in the sight of my anal orgasm.
“Fuck, you are a treat,” he said softly.
I was still shaking as if I was being electrocuted, the last of my sperm dribbling out of the holes in my cage and oozing into a puddle in my belly button. I had never cum so hard in my life, and I hadn’t even been touching myself! It was as if the congressman’s dick were stroking me from the inside out, working me toward my orgasm without me even realizing it.
As the last waves of pleasure began to subside, I barely noticed the congressman start to move again inside me. My body gave him no resistance, too exhausted and sated from my orgasm. His face tightened in concentration as sweat dripped from his brow. Then his mouth opened slightly and, with gritted teeth, he let out a gruff cry.
“Fuck! Take it! Take my hot, fucking seed!”
Even after all the battering I’d received at my back door, I could feel every jet of cum shooting out of him. I could practically see it coating my guts, painting my insides with gooey white semen. To my surprise, the thought didn’t make me feel nauseous–it made me feel invincible.
He collapsed against me, his body giving out as his cock continued to pulse inside me. “Such a good cunt…” he moaned in my ear.
I held him in my arms, resting his head against the crook of my shoulder as I took the last bit of his ejaculate. I had done it. It was over. I had lost my anal virginity, had let a man fuck me and degrade me in a way that no man should ever do to another. But I had also had the best orgasm of my life, and I had finally, FINALLY, cum in my cage.
I should feel disgusted with myself.
I should push the congressman off of me, scrub my skin till it was raw, and beg my Creator to make me clean again.
I didn’t do any of those things because I knew.
I would do it all over again in a second.
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