|
joshua69 -> Chastity Dreams and Dangerous Ideas (4/8/2011 1:05:18 AM)
|
Ok, so this is where these things go?
Chastity Dreams and Dangerous Ideas
(Careful What You Ask For)
The feel of the cold polycarbonate sliding over your hard, quivering flesh. Like a clear-headed python slowly and greedily swallowing your manhood. The locking pin slides into place with barely a whisper. The padlock clicks shut and sounds like thunder. Locked. For how many days. Days, right. Weeks? A month? Longer? No, no, don't even think that. She wouldn't do that, would She? I've been good. Better than good. I've done all that She has asked of me and more. No, She wouldn't do that to me...would She... I open my eyes to chance a quick look at Her face. She is looking down at my cage. Her thin, satisfied smile isn't meant for me. I close my eyes, fighting to keep the groan from passing my lips. Oh, this is bad.
Last night started out great. It was fun, quiet, normal, almost cozy, even couple-like. Mistress told me I had a surprise coming. Sweet! Or not. I knew by now that this could be a bad thing. I was actually wearing proof of that. We had some wine and some good conversation. I cooked a nice meal. I cleaned up the kitchen. I was then called into the bedroom. And like a nightmare straight from The Hell Channel, I quickly found myself being tormented in a way too horrible for Dante's 10th Circle. Standing, spread wide, wrist cuffs chained to the ceiling joists. In front of me was a small stool and a short wooden table.
The cage I was wearing at the time was what my Mistress calls "The Show Cage". Thin, black leather straps with chromed steel rings wrapped around them. The flesh of my shaft easily shows through between the rings. To call this thing confining would be a criminal understatement. It's supposedly made to look good on men but it's a torture device, plain and simple. Maliciously designed by Nazi Female Supremacists for one thing, to make men suffer. A man must avoid thinking about anything remotely arousing in this thing. When the libido is relaxed, all is fine. But in this contraption of leather and steel, that doesn't happen for long. If he gets so much as half- erect, it's all over. By now, the 4 leather rings have began to grab fully around the shaft. They slowly stretch with him. But their resistance makes him harder. What he's thinking at this point is completely irrelevant. It's completely out of his control now. As he continues to grow, the steel rings come to bear. It's like the brakes suddenly kick in. In an instant, the device stops stretching. He doesn't. He gets the Big Squeeze. The Iron Fist. And it will stay that way for hours.
My Mistress had left. I heard the microwave buzz for a few seconds. She returned with an bottle of red wine, a half-full wine glass, a bowl of warm mineral oil and an art brush with long bristles - red sable. My Mistress knows her art. She asked me if I wanted a sip of wine or needed a gag. I think I whispered no. She took a sip of wine and settled gracefully onto the stool. I closed my eyes and heard Her pull out her cell phone and place it on the table. I opened my eyes in time to see Her dipping the brush in the warm oil. I was beginning to shudder by this time. She said if I cried like a girl She would put me in heels. With no expression on Her beautiful face, She turned to me and began. I felt she soft, oily sable gently lick the tender flesh on the bottom of my shaft. I felt an sudden, violently powerful throb. It felt like the cage had immediately shrank to half its size. It was, in an instant, Hell On Earth. I tried to think of something, anything else. Just before the moaning and writhing began I remember looking over to the table at the bowl of oil. Why was there so much? She had turned her cell phone off. I looked at the bottle of wine. It was unopened.
I had asked for this. Well, sort of. It's like the videos you see where some dumb-ass guy does something incredibly stupid and ends up paying for it. You don't say he deserved his ill fate but you can concede that he did, in fact, ask for it. And I can proudly say that I was that dumb-ass guy.
Chastity wasn't even something She was interested in. She said that a good sub would never even consider sleeping around on his Mistress. And touching himself in a manly fashion was the same as cheating. I was prepared for this and I launched into my pitch. With all my reading and chatting I felt that I had become a bit of an expert on the subject of chastity and orgasm control. I gave Her the line that it's not about cheating, it's about control. And I wanted Her to have it. The gift of submission and all that. One thing I hadn't yet learned at that point is that you never inform Mistress of anything. You merely give her dangerous ideas.
The next day, and to my complete delight, my Mistress seemed to have warmed to my idea. We went shopping. We bought. We went with the recommended newbie procedure. Wearing the plastic cage for one day. Then two. Then orgasm. Then wearing the cage for four days. Then orgasm. Then one week. Then two weeks. I didn't care for the two weeks. Not at all.
After the second week Mistress informed of the new rule. I can't touch myself. Ever - as in "ever again". She told me that if my cock was to catch fire I'd better find some water to put it out. And I was pretty sure She meant it. This should have let me know that something had changed between us. My Mistress was way past sold on this chastity thing. On the heels of the no touching rule bad news came more bad news. We were going to skip right to four weeks. I month. But to ease the pain, She told me I had a surprise. Mistress gleefully presented me with something She called The Show Cage. And She couldn't wait to see me in it.
So, you see? Dumb-ass guy, right here. I had asked for this. All of it. And now I was sorry.
This is the kind of thing you think of as you watch, covered in sweat and through tear-blurred eyes, a wine bottle slowly draining away.
Note From The Author:
In regards to the above article, certain names, dates and wine labels were changed to protect the obviously guilty. Any similarities to persons living or dead is purely coincidental or possibly made up entirely, such as the author's involvement. It should also be noted that the Dominant in this article was not following proper SSC protocols and anyone having any information on the whereabouts of this woman or someone exactly like her are asked to notify the author immediately. I'll pay you.
|
|
|
|
