All of that contract review and self-evaluating seems to have reminded Mistress of the benefits of my steel cage.
Yesterday we were headed in different directions, so Mistress (without any prompting from me) told me to wear the cage.
I was in the shower, wiggling and prodding reluctant balls through the steel ring, as Mistress lolled in bed a but – not on the early morning schedule for a rare change – and she mistook all that wriggling and fumbling for something else.
“What were you doing in there, Slave?, she said as I was toweling off.
“Putting the ring on, Mistress ….it was touch and go for a minute there. What did you thing ….that I was breaking rule number one?”
She giggled. She seems to enjoy the mild discomfort that I must endure just to get the damned thing on.
And I always get a little shiver of some dreadful form of pleasure when I present the cage to Mistress for her to close the lock. After all, It’s always a bit of a mystery when the cage might come off.
Soon I was off to a breakfast meeting, and a day at the office, shuffling papers, writing and revising. Kind of dull stuff.
But the cage, and Mistress’s occasional calls or tet messages were occasional reminders that I was under lock and key. That and the fact that when caged, Slave can only pee while sitting down.
My midday, I was beginning to regret that I had not woken Mistress early enough for some morning sex.
We had planned to attend a local political event after work, but Mistress’s day trip had run a bit longer than she had hoped, and the drive had worn her out. So it was decided I would attend solo, make a cameo appearance and head home.
“But the cage stays on Slave. Not sure I can trust you out with all those activist types.”
Well, of course she could. But there was no point in quibbling. That would have been very un-slave like.
“Would you like me to worship first, Mistress?”
“I think that’s a good idea, Slave.”
So there I was kneeling, stripped to my udnerwar, the hard lump of the cage visible to Mistress, as she lay back, luxuriating in the ministrations of my tongue. I licked and suckled her damp and tasty parts through one orgasm, holding on for dear life as her hips bucked against my face.
Then I took it down a notch, letting her cool down before heating things back up again for yet another choice one. By the time I was done, I hoped Mistress had relaxed a bit from her long drive.
Of course, even a well trained cock would be straining against its cage by then, stimulated as I was by the assault of taste, aroma and visual stimulation from Mistress’s lush naked body.
And mine sure was.
But duty called. I threw on some jeans and a polo and headed off to the political cook out I had promised to attend, still in the cage.
“I won’t be long, Mistress.”
“I suspect you won’t Slave, as she brandished her little key.”
Well I wasn’t to long. 90 minutes at max.
When I got home, Mistress was doing her evening beautification rituals, loading up on moisturizer. She had on one of her short, satiny black nighties, that showed off her curves so well, while barely covering her firm rump.
“About time, Slave.”
I filled her in on the chast of characters she had missed, and the evening’s gossip. She took her time prepping for bed.
“Why don’t you strip Slave and wait for me on the bed.”
It seems like I waited along time. I am sure Mistress was amused to see me laying there, naked, ready for her but for the little matter of cage removal.
“I suppose I should take it off now?”
“That’s one option, Mistress. I guess it depends on whether you want a hard cock tonight, or just more worship.”
“How long has it been, Slave? How long since we fucked?”
“Since Sunday morning, Mistress”
A long time for us. 32 whole hours. Not like the Slave in ‘Nilla mom’s continuation of her “Mountain Top “Story this morning. Not sure I could handle three days. But there is only one way to find out.
“Oh, my. Guess we don’t want to push your luck any longer.”
Mercifully, Mistress unlocked me, and she lay back on the bed, spreading her legs. Ready for some more worship. I was left to the task of wiggling the damned thing off and around my swollen and chafed balls.
Ahhhh.
It was only after I had helped her to another orgasm with my ever so grateful tongue, that she turned her attention to my cock, which had stretched out a bit since the cage was removed.
“Oh, dear, I think he likes his freedom, Slave.”
No doubt.
But that’s when the sweet but maddening torment began.
Her soft tongue and mouth slowly massaged her cock to its full, straining dimensions. Her fingers ever so slightly touching and teasing my balls until I was squirming and moaning and begging to fuck her.
When she finally relented, it was to mount me.
“I want to ride this cock for a while, Slave. So no coming…..”
Argh.
She rode. And she rode. Driving herself to one powerful, thrashing and groaning orgasms against her cock, then doing it all over again as her fingers slid across my balls.
All the while I knew I dare not ask for permission.
Until she was exhausted from her ride, and rolled over.
“Your turn, Slave.”
So I slid on board, sliding deep into her. And soon I was begging for the release I had been waiting for since she locked me away early yesterday morning.
Afterwards, Mistress made a cany observation.
“Maybe I let you come too often, Slave. I like how desperate you get for me.”
“That’s your call, Mistress.”
“Of course it is.”
oh, thank , I love your story.
ReplyDeleteI love female slave.