Aftermath - Part 2

"Shit. It's like I'm back to where this all started. And this time I can't say I lost a bet. Now it's because I let my dick think instead of my brain."

It was hard to imagine that John had so completely fucked with my mind that I had agreed to become his chastity slave. He had not heretofore been so creative and manipulative on those occasions when we played together. Mutual cocksucking; low intensity and not terribly satisfactory fucking; some rope bondage (which he quickly learned turned me on), but nothing painful or time-delayed - that's all we had done. Ours had been more of that good friend, companionable activity relationship, ball games, theater, art galleries, even the opera.

Yet that scene where he kept me from cumming for so long had left me so bereft of will that I had agreed to give over control of my orgasms to him, just so I could get my rocks off. Fortunately it had been a great orgasm.

And I was enslaved. Of course, John had laughingly offered to release me from my "coerced" agreement, but I knew he didn't expect me to admit I had been so weak willed; and frankly I felt a little that way myself. I had never been in a situation where my will power had proven so futile. It was embarrassing to admit that I preferred being a slave to resisting sexual pleasure. There was a parable here I felt sure.

As we parted that night, John said to me in all seriousness, "You need to remember that I determine when you come out of the cage and when and if you cum. Being out of the cage does not necessarily mean that you'll be cumming. Asking me for release, begging me, pleading with me is irrelevant - indeed counter-productive. This is a discipline you need to learn. And one I know you yourself realize after this evening's performance."

In spite of this injunction, John appeared to me to be a gentle taskmaster. Our weekly meetings were special since I never knew what to expect. He varied the length of the time I remained in the CB-3000. It might be a day; a weekend; never more than a week. I couldn't discern any rhyme or reason to the periods I was confined within the cage. Of course, none of the climaxes ever rivaled that first one. But he usually allowed me one.

He even responded quickly to my frantic email at 6:30 AM one morning by bringing over the key when one of my balls slipped through the ring and pushed the whole cockcage assembly painfully off kilter. How fortunate his apartment was in the same building as mine, just four floors higher up and with a much better view.

"And how the hell did this happen?" He asked once the problem was apparent. "Were you trying to take the cock cage off by slipping each ball through the ring separately? That wouldn't be a good idea, friend. Don't go there," he warned. "Just start wearing the next smaller-sized ring to avoid a repeat of this mistake. What if I weren't around to solve the problem? Or if I'm away for another two-week business trip?"

"I'd tell you directly if I wanted this to end, not try some silly stunt like trying to slip out, ball by ball. How could I get back in and fool you into thinking I was secure when in fact I wasn't? Give me credit for some intelligence," I snapped back. "I might be a dick head when it comes to prolonging this experience, but I'm at least upfront in accepting the punishment."

"When I woke up this morning and went to shower, there was one ball inside the ring and one outside. I couldn't squeeze it back in without doing permanent damage. I never felt it happen during the night, but it must have. Perhaps when I was humping the pillow in frustration, like I do most nights. But you wouldn't know how horny I get in this fucking thing, now would you John," I teased.

"I'll let you in on a secret, pal. Before I put you in a cock cage I tried it myself for a week straight. Not the happiest week of my life, but I thought I needed the experience before I inflicted it on you. And it was for you that I conceived this whole wacky, hot, kinky, sexually stimulating escapade. Only for you."

I was taken aback by John's confession. At 7 AM I didn't want to explore with him why he had conceived this hair-brained discipline for me, a good friend of ten year's standing. I saved that for a more opportune moment. "I do appreciate the fact that you tried out the device before you put it on me. That was thoughtful. I'm sorry you didn't give me the key to hold." I laughed smugly on that line, and John smiled knowingly.

"I'm sure you would have done a great job as the key holder, Tom, and given it back to me when I asked."

I finished dressing for work, and then just before we went out of the door of the apartment, John stopped me. He placed both his arms on my shoulders, and pulled me close. Our lips met in a kiss that started as a gentle caress, moved to include intense grinding of our groins against each another and finally encompassed mutual full-body presses that were focused through our lips. The intensity was unnerving for so early in the morning --and before my morning caffeine. Like with champagne on an empty stomach, I was light-headed and sexually alive, with only office routine ahead of me for eight hours.

I met John at the gym that night, still hot, and oh, so horny. Gym after work had become a regular feature of our relationship. This was a change for me since before my enslavement I seldom went to the gym. Now I had all that pent-up sexual energy to convert into something useful --like muscle.

John made sure that I worked it off with a varied and strenuous exercise routine. He had faithfully maintained a gym regimen from his time as a college track and field star so he had plenty of routines to pass onto me. My body certainly began to look better, even as my sex life morphed into almost constant sexual desire with infrequent consummation.

Fred had immediately picked up on the fact that I had remained locked in my chastity device, even after John had returned from his trip. "Hasn't he let you out yet, Tom?" Fred had asked the next time he saw me at the gym after John's return. John was right there to hear the question.

"Tom, why don't you tell Fred why you're still in the cage," said John provocatively. "Remember, the truth will set you free."

Was that a come on or what? Even as it was humiliating to explain the truth, I admitted to Fred, "I traded an incredible sexual release --after hours of cock teasing and on top of twelve days of denial, for continued time as John's chastity slave - and the possibilities of even more mind-blowing orgasms."

"Ah, to be so focused on pleasure. I think, Tom, that you will regret that decision. But in the meantime, you're going to get a body to die for. I can see that pent-up lust driving you to build a masterful body for yourself."

Fred's comments had only re-enforced my own worst fears, but John was so cool and low key about our play that I remained unfazed. The cage became a part of me. It was just always there. Like my American Express card, I never left home without it. Instead of being obstreperous and whining about being let out, pushing and pleading - or even taking the bolt cutters to the infernal lock, I bore the frus-trations and annoyances in silence. And I always looked forward to our time together, whether John took the cage off or not.

"I've a special treat for you, chastityslave," John said myste-riously to me one day in the gym's sauna. "I appreciate the fact that you now walk with me to the shower and sauna with your cute plastic chastity cage fully visible for all to see. No more draping your towel across your crotch as if you were embarrassed by that emblem of your servitude. And you willingly tell anyone who asks that you are my chastity slave. This is good discipline for you and makes me very proud."

"This new gift to you shows how deeply I value your slave-hood. I've bought a smaller, combination lock with a titanium loop for the cage. You get less to annoy you since the lock is smaller - no pinching of those horny little balls--, and I get added security since the titanium is impervious to bolter cutters.

This was a trade off I didn't really want to make. The pinching was far less of a problem than no longer having an easy escape from the cage. The knowledge that I could ultimately extricate myself from the cage, in spite of John, with bolt cutters (and I had carefully purchased a set right after I agreed for more rounds in the cockcage) had always calmed my fears that John would lock me up and forget to let me out.

That night in bed I had a wild fantasy session around the notion that John had informed me that I wouldn't be cumming for a year. I ground my plastic-encased member into the mattress with abandon, trying to elicit some response from my prick. It got as hard as the cage permitted, but nothing happened except to make me hot and sweaty; heart pounding and pulse racing. It was deliciously vivid. Unnervingly so. How could I desire a full year with no orgasm? How addicted to chastity had I become? Sleep did not come easily until the wee hours of the morning.

As we moved into the third month of me being caged all the time, I became disappointed that John never tried to move me to the level of desperation I had been in after that first twelve-day stretch in enforced chastity. I wondered what John found so intriguing about me being in chastity anyway: was it just that I was locked up, able to cum only when he permitted it? Was this simply a power play on his part?

There was some behavior modification. After all I now always sat to piss; I could calmly explain to guys at the gym what that thing was doing around my crotch. But was this all John had in mind? It seemed a small return for my frustration.

But did I really want more? That fantasy of not being able to cum for a year turned me on wildly; my level of sexual frustration and fear, to be perfectly frank, rose whenever I thought about it. Did I want John to take more control over me? Force me to change in ways I could not imagine? The chastity websites had stories about forced feminization and that type of shit, but somehow that seemed a most unlikely scenario for John to want to play out.

Of course, what sort of relationship did I actually have with John? Yes, I liked him a lot. What was not to like about a 30-year-old guy earning a real good salary, cultured and sophisticated, with a thick six-inch cock that was always hard? Boy, did I love to suck it! He was handsome, 180 pounds of pretty solid muscle, with curly brown hair in all manner of delectable places on his body.

Certainly he was an ideal catch for a guy like me, a 27-year old, 155 pounder who was at best cute and trapped in a dull geeky IT position for a large multinational corporation. We enjoyed many of the same amusements; I really liked being around him. And I did have to admit that five weeks of chastity had led to a better body because of all the intense gym time I was putting in.

His grey eyes missed nothing and had a twinkle in them which I always saw when he looked at my cock cage. And his lips were so kissable; and so agile - like his tongue; sensuously able to explore all the nooks and crannies of my body. My prick leapt in the cage as I reflected on some of the nooks that John had found and explored with his tongue and lips.

A week or so after retrapping my ball in the ring, John and I stopped after a particular intense work out at the gym at our favorite neighborhood bar, Hudson Street. It wasn't particularly a gay bar, just a local bar where there were gays as well as straights, all drink-ing socially and getting along, neighbors, even in the city. We'd been stopping there for beers and drinks for almost the full five years we had lived in the area. Folks knew us and greeted us cordially.

As he drank his Guinness and me my Pete's Wicked Ale, I asked him point blank about his comment from the morning he had unlocked the cage so I could slip the errant ball back inside the ring.

"I'm intrigued, John, and puzzled why you said you had con-ceived this whole chastity scene with only me in mind. When did I ever express any interest in or even knowledge of chastity as a gay sexual discipline? Can you dislike me so much that you want to toy with me this way? You know I really like you and always thought you liked me." My tone was light and friendly, but I was really wonder-ing. John could sense the quizzical quality in my voice.

"I knew you'd pick up on that comment and demand an expla-nation. I'm glad though you gave me a week to organize my thoughts. While I can't say the comment just popped out unthink-ingly, I really wasn't ready then to go into great detail on what it meant."

John then did two things which were so atypical of his public behavior with me that startled me. First he grabbed me and kissed me long and hard on the lips. We didn't do such things in public - even in Hudson Street where the folks were cool. Then he reached over and put his large hand on my caged prick and squeezed it and my balls real, real hard. I yelped as it pinched.

"The bottom line here, Tom, is that I like you a lot. And have done so for quite a while. We haven't changed our relationship much in the last few years and I wanted to see, frankly, if I meant much to you. The chastity regimen certainly does that. If you liked someone else, you wouldn't put up with chastity with me. Perhaps I am jealous but the chastity also prevents easy straying. You know I'm a control freak so this re-enforces that aspect of my character. I'm also fas-cinated by the way it changes you. How you adapt to it and the demands that come with it."

"As I said when I gave you the new lock, I'm so proud that you're doing this for me. It's such a turn on. You have no idea."

"I think I need another beer before we talk more," I said. "Another round?" John nodded and I went to get another Guinness and Pete's.

Certainly I was pleased by some of what John had said, but some of it had negative connotations for my character that I wanted to rebut. I launched into reply, "There are much easier ways to find out if someone likes you, John, than putting them in chastity devices. You could just ask. If you've liked me a lot for so long, why have you done so fucking little to manifest it? It also hurts that you trust me so little that locking me in chastity is the only way you feel secure in my affections."

Tom spoke up as I paused to take a drink, "There is much truth in what you say, Tom, but you need to consider a few other things. Think about my character. Doesn't the enforced chastity almost seem an extension of who I am? It isn't a lack of confidence in your faithful-ness that has me place you in that cock cage, but rather my incredible desire to possess you as an object of my affection. I want all of you. And it is clear to me, that so far, you like being all mine. Do you think the chastity has had no effect on our relationship, Tom?"

"I am not sure this level of possessiveness is healthy in the long term, John. But I will agree that the experience has changed me. Would I have ever gone to the gym the way I have if you had just said, "I love you?" Probably not. Would I have even thought about some of these issues if we weren't in this sort of relationship? Probably not. You've turned a declaration of love into an ongoing kinky sexual experience. And I am certainly learning more about myself and how I love through all this. And you, too."

"Trust me, Tom, my chastityslave, I want to keep you at a fever pitch of lust and desirability. I want us incandescent with our affection," John said and then laughed, "Perhaps that last is a bit hyperbolic, but you get the idea."

"There's a lot to think about here. Maybe liked Mary, we need to ‘treasure up all these things and ponder them in our hearts.'"

We walked home hand in hand, like young lovers, and kissed gently as we separated at the elevator on the third floor where I got off.

We continued our daily gym time, with ever more strenuous work out regimens. I couldn't believe I had that much sexual energy stored up. I would go home exhausted and collapse into bed. Then slowly it dawned on me that I had gone for over a week without being allowed out of the cage at all. Typically now, when we were together, John played with my nipples and had me suck him off. We usually spent a lot of time in hot and heavy kissing which left me gasping for breath and sporting a hard, hot prick that painfully pulsed against the end of the cage, but I was offered no means to alleviate the discomfort. John's confession of love had not diminished his desire to keep me panting in unfulfilled lust.

Once at home I suffered further frustrations as my semi-rampant prick was smashed into the mattress in futile humping of the pillow. Even though I knew this was useless, I was unable to stop myself from doing it. I seemed to be surrounded by a sexual haze that forced the rational part of my mind to the periphery of my consciousness. The pent-up sexual desire I was experiencing drove me on, hoping that some release would miraculously occur. My mind would replay the scene we had played during the evening, and I would be left sexually frustrated anew. I assumed John got off after I left since he always remained fully clothed in my presence - even as he forced me to always be naked in his.

It was no fun for a healthy 27-year old male not to be able to get his nuts off. I knew that begging John for release was futile, whether by groveling at his feet or by overt request. He would see through the one and ignore the other -- or punish me, perhaps by lengthening the time of my cock's incarceration.

A second week of abstinence passed at glacial speed. John remained cordial as ever and gave no hint that he was aware that such a long period of time had gone by without my release. But I knew he knew. And he knew that I knew and that I was saying nothing. It was perversely funny, an in-joke only the two of us shared, the two of us acting as if all was right with the world, when I was scarcely able to focus on my day job because of constant preoccupation with my caged prick and an overweening desire to cum.

That next Sunday evening I arrived at John's at our usual meeting time of 8 PM. As was the custom now, I removed all my clothes and placed them on the chair inside the door. As I walked into the living room of his apartment, I was clad with cock cage and nothing else. John held up the leather cuffs which I had grown accustomed to wearing. I went over to him, knelt at his feet and offered my hands to him to bind behind my back.

"Good boy, Tom, good boy," said John. "Ready to play? Your balls look red and bloated this evening. We'll need to be extra careful of them."

I said nothing and lowered myself onto my haunches awaiting his next instructions.

"Let's go into the bed room and get comfortable." We had played on John's queen-sized bed several times. It was covered with a smooth black leather fitted sheet. Between mattress and box spring was bondage webbing with lots of metal loops for easy bondage ties. Anticipating the inevitable, I crawled to the middle and stretched myself out in a classic spread-eagle position.

John deftly set about the bondage. Arms came first and then feet. I wasn't going anywhere fast. As was so often the case, I was at my hunky friend's complete mercy, horny as hell and sexually turned on.

"And what delectable torture do you in store for me tonight?" I asked eagerly. Ah, naive fool that I was.

"Definitely something different. Okay? First some water though to make sure you don't dehydrate during the ordeal you're about to experience, " John said funningly. His smile was beguiling.

"Right, friend. You know I trust you - even if you did take advantage of me a month or so ago and got me into this predica-ment." I drank up the proffered glass of water. John filled it again from a nearby carafe and set it on the adjacent bedside table in case water was needed in a hurry.

John's skepticism came through, "Friend, you got yourself into this mess. Don't blame me. I refuse to be the whipping boy for your inability to rule your passions. I'm doing you a favor by providing an external control over your wayward and perverted lust."

"Right." I brought all the doubt I could muster to this one word. John laughed.

He got another bowl and cloth from the kitchen. I sincerely hoped it wasn't those damned ice cubes again. Fortunately it was hot soapy water so I knew the cage would be coming off and a clean-up time for it and me was in store. And that's what's happened.

Having the cage removed was a blissful moment for me. I sighed in happiness. Two weeks in the fucking thing, even when it felt comfortable, was still a long time. Almost immediately my loins started agitating to be allowed an orgasm.

But John's attention to my crotch went further than usual. Besides the cleaning, he used a new safety razor to shave my entire pubic area. My entire lovely red bush was now gone. I looked like a pre-teen down there, my maturity seemingly swept away by the foamy cream and razor.

"You need to keep it this way, Tom. I think you look best, as long as you're in chastity, with a shaved crotch. Since you can't cum, you can scarcely appear mature around your cock and balls."

"Yes sir, " I replied, since I knew this was another of those commands he was giving me for my chastityslave life.

Next came a liberal dose of lotion which John ruthless and almost painfully slathered all over my prick and balls. My newly smooth skin rapidly absorbed the almost odorless lotion. While refreshing, this was a dangerous act as I was now so close to cumming. I felt sure his firm but rough touch was to lessen the pleasurable sensations so he could keep me from cumming while he liberally applied the lotion.

Clever, toying with the nexus between pleasure and pain to keep me from shooting the load I had been accumulating for fourteen frig-ging days. Just as he had done when that other time when I suc-cumbed to his sensuous teasing. Could I resist again? Did I have to?

But then, suddenly two things happened which altered my per-ceptions of the moment. The first was an almost disorienting flash of warmth that engulfed my body and came to rest, as it were, on my prick. It rose red and triumphant over my denuded pubes. And the other was the stinging sensation of a menthol-based unguent cours-ing over and through my cock and balls, with an ever-increasing intensity.

"WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE? IS THAT BENGAY ON MY PRICK? YOU DIDN'T PUT VIAGRA IN THAT WATER DID YOU? I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU, YOU MOTHER FUCKER, IF YOU DID THAT TO ME."

Then I started moaning and writhing, and crying, prey to the various chemically induced sensations swirling over my body and mind. It was hideously true. I didn't even need to see the shit-faced grin on John's face through the blue aura which Viagra creates to know what was up.

Obviously I could expect no support from John in this situation. He treacherously offered more water which I, with what little presence of mind I had left, curtly refused. He did keep working the Bengay into my cock and balls, never gently and almost always avoiding the supersensitive head.

I so desperately wanted to cum, but Viagra by itself doesn't do that and John wasn't offering the manual stimulation to bring that about. Whenever his hand reached toward my crotch with the Bengay, I twisted and contorted myself to try to get more contact between his hand and my prick. It didn't work. He saw through my efforts and happily tantalized my prick.

My recollections of these moments are more rationale in the writing of this story than they were when I was experiencing all these sensations in John's bedroom. There was little coherence to my babbling or thrashing - except to try to get enough stimulation to cum. A bodily reflex must have taken over on that.

Wasn't it perverse I thought that I craved that ointment of tor-ture to give me the stimulation to cum? And in some deep recess of my mind I knew that cumming with all that menthol coating on my fuck tool and the Viagra freely swimming in my blood system would only leave me in more agony after I spent, than it did in my current hyper-sensitive lust-filled craze. But I couldn't resist trying.

All good things must come to an end. I knew that neither Viagra nor Bengay is long lasting. If I continued to refuse the water which John from time to time so graciously offered, then after half an hour or so of agony, the Viagra would diminish in effectiveness. Likewise, after a quarter hour the ice cold heat of Bengay diminishes as well.

How long John continued putting the menthol unguent on my prick and balls would give me some idea of how long this torture would continue, whether he was leading me up to a painful/ pleasurable orgasm or had some other more nefarious torment in mind.

I noticed that John had shed his clothes and was leaning over me on the bed, naked, masturbating a rock-hard erection, while I thrashed below him. I vaguely wondered if he too were using Bengay as lube. A sweet thought to unite our actions. He erupted mightily all over my face and chest. Even that was not enough to send me over the edge into an orgasm. But it was a wonderful confirmation that my plight turned him on spectacularly well.

At a certain moment I realized that my Viagra-induced haze and the menthol-tinged pain were diminishing. I still hadn't cum; my prick was as red and rampant as it had been an hour ago but I was exhausted. The leather sheet was sopping wet. Had I peed as well or was that all sweat I wondered. It seemed likely that another torment awaited me.

John used several towels to blot up the water around me. He brought basins and towels from the bathroom and started to freshen me up, even as he started speaking.

"I know, Tom, you've been wondering why I've not pushed you as far as I did that first period in the enforced chastity. I wanted to take it slowly and get you accustomed to your enslaved situation. To make you enjoy being enslaved with a chastity device. What I've been doing is priming you for the long term. You know how I love having you under my control."

"It's been lots of fun for me to provide you with these quick pleasures and keep you wondering what was up. How you calmly accepted the control that I was enforcing on you. You no doubt even thought that enforced chastity was relatively easy to bear. I'm here to tell you that you're unlikely to think that any longer - unless you're far different than I suppose, my friend."

"Tonight's just a sample of what's in store for you in the future. Frequently out of the cage, but almost never cumming. Try to remember the last time you came; it will be a long, long time before you do again."

With that the second bowl and towel revealed those infernal ice cubes, which were ruthless applied to my balls and prick, accompa-nied by my shrieks of agony and disbelief.

"No, no, damn you. I can't believe you're doing this to me again. Shit. Let me cum, you fucker." I was laughing and crying simulta-neously, knowing full well what was going to befall me next.

Ignoring my tears (were they of frustration or of delight?), John carefully re-circled my cock and balls with the adjustable ring, and inserted the post and spacers. Once my prick had shriveled adequately under the onslaught of those damnable ice cubes, and with the aid of a few well-placed dots of lube (not Bengay this time, thanks be to God), he slipped the cock cage over my throbbing and aching member. John then placed the lock loop effortlessly into its small hole and spun the combination knobs so I was well and truly locked in again.

I did not speak as John next methodically untied the ropes and released me from the bed. When I was free, I grabbed my plastic caged prick; held it tightly; and wept. John smiled. His smile was just as beguiling to me as before.

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Page last updated 07-Aug-29 by: Altairboy@aol.com