(Chapter 1 is at the archived discussion) Experiencing an orgasm with your member locked inside a steel chastity cage offers a unique sensation. It’s complex, and for me that night alongside Erica, it was entirely new. Physically, I felt a mix of mild pain and pleasure, topped off by frustration. The urge to push extra hard was strong, and I answered the call. Oh, how I tried! Every Kegel muscle engaged as if I were clearing a clogged pipe with greater force than usual. My member turned a throbbing purple hue I’d never noticed before, squeezed painfully into the cage. Normally, swelling adds girth (I’m more grower than shower), but this time it compressed my internal pathways instead of expanding outward. Somehow, my body registered the blockage and pushed harder for longer than normal. Yet when the release finally came, emptiness didn’t follow. Instead, I felt as though half-fullness remained within me—a strange, uncomfortable residue. My testicles ached too. Usually, that pain is welcome, but this was more irritating than rewarding. Attempting to wring out every last drop of trapped seed, I found the cage—and specifically the ring behind my scrotum—restricted how much pressure I could apply. Everything down there felt weaker and less synchronized. The puddle Erica caught in her towel was only a third of what I anticipated. That covered the physical aspects; mentally, it was quite a mind-bending ordeal. A peculiar sense of objectification washed over me, one that didn’t fully click until later when I lay awake pondering. Typically, ejaculation stems from intercourse—with a woman’s pussy, ass, mouth, hand, or breasts—but with this cage in place, true fucking felt impossible. Instead, my release was for her amusement. By forcing me to cum while caged, Erica ensured the act served her pleasure rather than mine. In Melbourne’s dance scene, women often enjoy making men erupt, but usually after unlocking us first—remove the device if you want the full burst. Erica broke that unwritten rule. No, she wouldn’t take it off; I remained capped yet still performed my duty. My member had no say in the matter—it did what she commanded and under her chosen terms. It was incredibly arousing. As I said, a true mental twist. The night gave me plenty of time to reflect. This wasn’t even close to being my first sleep with the device on, yet it proved more uncomfortable than anticipated. During shows, wearing it for hours might feel heavy at times, and you definitely sense the constraint when arousal builds inside against the metal bars during female attention. But discomfort hadn’t been a major issue then. Sleeping was different; the cage simply tugged, pinched, or poked no matter how I turned. Its constant presence kept it in my thoughts. Later, once accustomed to indefinite confinement, it became manageable—I just needed time to adjust that first night. Thus, sleep eluded me as Erica lay naked beside me, her key still resting around her neck. The key? It was a physical object. Could be the one, though we weren’t certain. Perhaps some officer had tossed my specific key into an evidence locker back at the club after that commotion. If hers didn’t fit—and I sincerely hoped it did for multiple reasons—I’d have to convince Trina to unlock me or find another escape route. Maybe bolt cutters through the metal? Another hurdle: attire. I stood in a strange woman’s apartment. Well, not entirely strange anymore following our night together; thinking of her as an outsider seemed odd after everything that transpired between us, sexual and otherwise. Still, I was naked in her space without clothes, doubting she owned anything large enough for me. I didn’t want to stroll down the hallway nude again risking another encounter with Mrs. Douglass. She was lovely enough, but even she had noted most residents of this upscale building wouldn’t appreciate a bare-chested guy with steel caged member wandering around searching for his Uber pickup point. Eventually I nodded off dreaming up half-formed plans on how to return home and get unshackled. In my dreams, removing the cage before leaving was essential—meaning stopping at a hardware store naked just to buy bolt cutters. I woke with the sensation of having lost my testicles—or so it felt. My member stood erect within its confines, pulling hard against my balls once more. It took a moment to settle things down, then I realized daylight had arrived outside. Erica was gone from bed. Shampoo scented the air while the bathroom fan hummed. Still naked and caged, I considered wrapping myself in linens but decided that would look silly given recent events. Checking the bathroom revealed it empty; she’d showered recently enough. If I’m lucky, I thought, Erica’s key will work. She had promised to test it that morning, and here we were. I walked into the living room hungry for coffee but found Erica seated at the table with another woman—older perhaps in her forties, petite yet sharp-eyed and no-nonsense. Her gaze swept over me without surprise before dropping lower to my caged member. My post-sleep erection hadn’t fully faded; noticing it caused a fresh swell. Meanwhile, Erica stared down into her coffee cup looking rather like a scolded child. “You must be the dancer,” said the older woman. “Come closer so I can inspect that apparatus.” She extended her hand level with my groin. Unsure of who she was but drawn by her confidence, I stepped forward and rested my balls gently in her palm. She gripped firmly while turning the device this way and that with her free hand. Examining the lock mechanism and ring, she poked at my swelling member through the bars, clearly fascinated. Erica finally spoke up: “Morning, Babe,” she said. “This is Theresa. She manages my dad’s campaign. I’ll fetch you some coffee.” “These devices suit many of my clients well,” observed Theresa, still touching the cage gently. “They keep men out of trouble.” Glancing toward Erica as she retrieved a mug from the cupboard: “Though not sure what will help with yours though.” Theresa looked up at me again. “I suppose I owe you thanks for last night’s efforts—you helped prevent a major issue for the campaign.” “I’m glad to have been of service,” I replied, unsure exactly how much more she needed from me. Her face was attractive but weary with stress; her eyes lively while her small mouth stayed firm and expressionless. She glanced back at my caged member giving my balls a quick squeeze before releasing them. Erica handed over the coffee cup and sat down again looking troubled once more. I stood there awkwardly still presenting myself to Theresa’s view unsure what action came next. “Unfortunately, last night wasn’t easy for your boss either,” she noted. “There’s quite an uproar building up.” “I need to reach her soon,” I said. “She has my clothes, phone, wallet—and hopefully the key to release me from this predicament.” Theresa eyed the cage again. “Didn’t Erica have that key?” she asked. “Well possibly—but she never got around testing it last night,” I explained adding a touch of hurtfulness hinting we should try now. “No time for such delays now,” interrupted Theresa ending my subtle plea. It seemed she enjoyed having me bare and confined. “I’ve spoken with Trina, your supervisor—and plan to take you to her house where all your belongings await.”
“And I can get you sorted out.”
“Thank you,” I said. “How is she?”
“A bit worried,” Theresa replied. “She’s going to have to do some fancy dancing herself to stay out of legal trouble over this. But, she seems like a woman who’s capable of that. I can’t afford to help her of course, but I would if I could.”
She grabbed my caged cock again. “But first we need to get you some clothes. Can’t really walk you through the lobby with this hanging out, no matter how much I’d like to do it. So I’m going to go buy you something to wear for the ride to Trina’s. I figure you’re a Large? What size shoes do you wear?”
“Thirteen,” I said.
She looked at my cock, trapped in the small steel cage. “Well, the old saying about big feet doesn’t work with it locked up in there.”
“I’m a grower,” I said, a little defensively.
“I’m sure you are, Dear.” Theresa smiled. “Just not while you’re wearing that. Okay, enough jabbering, I’m going to get you some clothes. I won’t take long.” She got up, gave my balls another squeeze, looked at Erica who kept her head down, and walked out the door.
I walked over behind Erica and bent down to kiss her on the side of the neck. She giggled a little. “That tickles.”
“Are you okay?” I asked. “You look like you’re in trouble.”
“No,” she brightened and sat up straight. “Not really, you saved me from that last night. It’s just, oh, that woman always makes me feel like a fuck-up. She’s so bossy and all business and bitchy. And runs my dad’s whole operation. It’s like I have a step-mom and I can never live up to her expectations.”
“She’s gone for a little while,” I said, caressing Erica’s shoulders. “And you didn’t have any trouble meeting my expectations. Maybe you can see if that key of yours works and I can prove I really am a grower.”
Erica pouted and shrugged her shoulders. “Theresa took the key. She made me give it to her.” Erica looked up at me apologetically. “I’m sorry, I can’t unlock you. But,” her face brightened, “I could make you cum in your cage again, like last night!”
She began working over my balls like she had before. I didn’t know at first if I wanted to go through that frustration again or not, but very quickly I gave in to the pleasure of her hands fondling my poor balls. I closed my eyes and sighed. It wasn’t long before I took a deep breath in and whispered “I’m really close. Better get a towel.”
“Un-uh, no towel.” she said. I looked down and saw her put her lips over the end of my cage. I could feel her tongue flicking across the parts of my cock that were bulging through the bars. Her hands kept working on my balls, and suddenly I felt that same odd, frustrating sensation of not being able to pump hard enough as I strained to ejaculate through my compressed, constrained cock.
Whatever I did manage to pump out went into her mouth and she swallowed. When it was over, she pulled her lips off my cage and smiled up at me. “I only like the taste of cum after I’ve had some coffee, but I love it then.” I had that same still-full feeling as the night before.
We sat and cuddled on the couch for a while after that, watching some cooking show on TV that reminded me I hadn’t eaten for a while. I was about to ask Erica if she was hungry when the door opened and Theresa barged back in with a shopping bag.
“Here are your clothes,” she said, putting the bag down on a table near the door. “Get dressed, we have to go.”
I looked at Erica and she nodded. I got up and went to the table. Inside the bag was a shoebox with a pair of size 13 loafers like you see yachties wearing, a dark maroon t-shirt with a surfboard on it, and a pair of light gray sweat pants made of very stretchy material. I fished around but saw no underwear.
“You don’t need any underwear,” Theresa said, seeming to read my mind. “But you probably want to cut the tags off things.” Erica came over to me and opened a drawer in the table. Inside were a pair of scissors and a couple of pens. She mouthed “phone number” and pointed at the pens. I smiled. I cut the tag off the sweat pants and quickly wrote my number on it and dropped it into the drawer without Theresa seeing. Then I pulled on the pants. They were pretty tight and the cage made a very prominent bulge in them. The outline of the lock and the bars of the cage were obvious. I pulled the shirt on. It wasn’t very long and barely met the top of the sweats. It didn’t do anything to cover the bulge.
“I don’t think these are going to hide much,” I said. Theresa turned and looked. A small little wicked smile played over her face.
“I didn’t think they would,” she said. “But they’re enough for the lobby. You won’t be technically naked, that’s all I need. Hurry up, shoes on too, I have appointments this afternoon.”
I slipped the shoes on. I looked like a vagabond crew off one of the sailing yachts down at the harbor. Well, a vagabond crew with a metal cage locked on his cock. For the first time, I noticed the necklace that had my – or at least the – key on it, the one Erica had been wearing last night, hanging around Theresa’s neck. The key itself was invisible, tucked into her cleavage beneath the blue blouse she wore. This pseudo-step-mom was quite the accomplished mind-fucker. It occurred to me she could be a lot of fun, in a twisted sort of way for the right twisted sort of guy.
I kissed Erica, who giggled at my outfit. “Thank you,” she said. “For last night and everything.”
Theresa ushered me out the door before I could say anything in response, but I thought I heard the drawer to the table opening as the door closed, Erica retrieving my phone number. I hoped she would call tonight.
At first I was a bit self-conscious about the cage showing through the tight sweat pants, but then I remembered I’d walked down this hall completely naked, well, except for the cage, and that I’d spent most of the last 24 hours nude and caged in front of many women. I relaxed, it was fine, people could see and I even found myself hoping to run into Mrs. Douglass again, but no such luck.
We reached the parking garage, the same garage, using the elevator this time, and Theresa walked me to her car. It was a convertible Mercedes two-seater. We got in and she drove out of the garage and started across town. Trina’s place was east of downtown, out into the foothills. Neither of us said anything, Theresa just drove, her mind working over whatever problems she had to deal with today after taking care of the problem that was me.
As we sat at a light, Theresa’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, flicked her finger over it, and read something, scowling. “Okay, change of plans,” she said. “Your boss has the police at her house. Probably asking about last night. It wouldn’t be good for either of us to show up while they were there.”
“No, I suppose it wouldn’t.” I agreed. The light turned green. She looked around, then gunned the engine and took a quick left turn. A block later, she pulled up to the curb and parked. I looked to my right and saw a bistro with several couples, all fashionable since this was a ritzy part of town, eating breakfast. Lots of prosecco and mimosas and a few Bloody Mary’s were evident.
“I’m hungry,” Theresa said. “You probably are too. I’ll buy us brunch, since you don’t have your wallet.” She got out of the car. I hesitated. “What’s the matter?” she asked, motioning for me to get out.
“Well,” I said, getting out keeping my voice low. She walked around the car to my side and stood in front of me. “These sweatpants are a little tight,” I said. “The cage is very visible. The lock and everything.”
“Don’t try to tell me you’re embarrassed,” she said. “You love showing that off.”
She was right, I did. “But,” I said, “I was worried it might be embarrassing or bad for you to be seen with me like this.”
She laughed. “In my line of work, a woman needs a reputation as something of a ball-buster if she’s going to make it. Being seen with a boy-toy locked in a chastity cage has to help that.” She pulled the key out from inside her blouse and let it hang o
Jutting out for all to see. ‘Go on, display it,’ she urged, then reached through my sweatpants to grasp the package and give it a squeeze. My swelling returned quickly, pushing the cage outward until it stood out even more prominently beneath the thin, stretchy fabric. It wasn’t exactly simple following her toward the door. The queue was brief, yet positioned right beside the outdoor dining section where two women, likely in their thirties, were enjoying breakfast just beyond a low metal barrier. One of them faced me from perhaps three feet away, fixing her gaze steadily on my caged cock. Her intense stare made it twitch and pulse; this reaction widened her eyes slightly, which sent another wave of throbbing through mine. She offered a smile, glanced up at me, then turned an admiring look toward Theresa, who remained entirely unaware of the interaction, before softly murmuring ‘nice.’