Thirty Days of Chastity: Day Six

Describe your weirdest or most interesting Chastity fantasy.

Lucy picked up a small stainless-steel cage from the table, a penis-shaped enclosure, and a shiny metal ring.

“This looks about the right size,” she said. “Drop your pants and underwear.”

Gulping, I complied and then stood before her, feeling ridiculous with my pants and briefs bunched around my ankles. My heart pounded. My mouth felt dry, but sweat beaded on my forehead.

The shadow of a smile played on Lucy’s lips as she observed my obvious discomfort. Then she crossed the floor and kneeled in front of me. Looking down, I watched as she threaded the loose skin of my scrotum and then my balls inside the metal ring. Then she pushed and pulled my soft cock through the ring until it nestled atop my balls. Finally, she slid the cage over my flaccid shaft. I flinched when Lucy snapped the tiny lock shut.

“Oh, yes, that looks marvelous,” Lucy said, standing and then cupping my imprisoned member. 

I looked down again at her handiwork. My penis looked pathetic. Defeated, somehow. Like a lonely little hairless creature in some dodgy foreign zoo, pathetically squishing its pink, malnourished flanks against the bars of a teeny-tiny steel cage. I felt the weight of the steel pulling at my balls. I knew it would take some getting used to.

It felt wrong on so many levels. And yet the thought of Lucy forcing me to do this, her controlling me like this excited me.

“Oh no,” I groaned, feeling my manhood swell.

“He likes his tiny cage,” Lucy laughed.

“But what happens if…” I stammered, pointing at the cage.

“No worries. It can’t grow properly erect. But the more your cock swells, the more painful it will feel.”

Lucy gave me a wicked grin.

“Now that you’re properly locked, it is now my property to do with as I wish. Only I can free you. Your cock, orgasms, and pleasure. Now I control it all.”

Listening to her words, I felt my cock swelling even more until the tip protruded beyond the small bars at the end.

“What do I do?” I moaned as the pain increased.

“Step out of your trousers and underwear, boy,” Lucy said. “Then go to the bathroom and have a wee. That should sort you out.”

Hurriedly, I stepped out of the clothing around my ankles and rushed to the bathroom. Impatiently, I waited for the stream of urine to flow. Then at the last minute, it occurred that the bars at the end of the cage might deflect the stream and make a mess. So quickly, I turned and sat down on the toilet seat. Lucy had been right. Once the flow started, the swelling and pain subsided. After finishing, I washed my hands and returned to the room where Lucy was waiting.

“It took you long enough,” Lucy said impatiently, slapping her stocking clad thigh with the riding crop she held. “Lie on the floor, slave, face up.”

Knowing I had annoyed her already, I hurried to assume the position on the floor. Lucy walked past me, then turned and stood at my head, looking down at me. She wore a fancy silk corset with matching knickers, a suspender belt, and thigh high black stockings with lace tops. A pair of black patent leather stilettos with 6-centimeter heels completed her ensemble. Her auburn, shoulder length hair framed her angelic face. Yet I knew Lucy was no angel, but a cruel taskmaster. She made it no secret. She was the beauty, and I was the beast, fortunate indeed that she gave me any attention at all.

I watched as she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of the knickers, and then sensuously slipped them down her firm thighs and long shapely legs, before letting them drop to the floor. Stepping out of the knickers, she positioned a stiletto on either side of my head. Then, slowly, she lowered herself until she knelt over my face. 

“Worship your Mistress, slave,” she commanded, pressing the warm, moist folds of her flesh against my mouth.

Suddenly, the swelling started again, but then I felt a different sort of pain when Mistress Lucy brought the crop down sharply on my exposed, entrapped balls. Again and again and again, as she continued fiercely pressing and thrusting her wet flesh against my mouth.

Clearly, I enjoy chastity and no one would ever have to force me to wear a cock cage. But strangely, as the brief vignette above shows, my chastity fantasies center on a strong, dominant woman forcing me to endure enforced chastity and then subjecting me to all manner of wicked, cruel things. I’m not completely sure why those fantasies turn me on, but perhaps it’s the control aspect.