by AE Lister
I shouldn’t have texted you from work. My dick tried to get hard all afternoon.
Poor baby.
It hurts.
I’ll consider kissing it better on Saturday. If you’re a very good boy.
Stop! Please stop.
I’ll never stop.
Good.
Eight-ten p.m.
Good night, Sir.
Good night, lovely boy. I hope you sleep better this time.
Me too!
Tuesday, six-thirty a.m.
I need to call you. Can I call you?
Yes.
Soon my ringtone for Vincent started playing. It was I Feel Pretty from West Side Story.
He was right. I was officially a bastard.
“Hey. Everything okay?”
“Oh, Sir!”
He sounded so devastated that a jolt of alarm shot through me.
“What’s wrong? Tell me.”
“I didn’t mean to, Sir. I didn’t know it was possible. I don’t know how it happened!”
“What happened, Vincent? Tell me what happened.”
He said something I couldn’t hear.
“What? Speak up, boy!” The anger came from being worried.
“I just woke up, and I was coming…somehow. There’s cum all over the sheets. I’m so sorry, Sir. I’m so, so sorry!” He was almost crying because he was so upset.
I felt a great wave of relief passed over me. “Vincent,” I said calmly.
“I’m so sorry!”
“Vincent, it’s all right.”
“How did that happen? You didn’t tell me that could happen.” He wasn’t accusing me, just explaining his distress.
“Sorry? I didn’t realize it could. But, yeah, I guess it’s possible.”
“I’m so sorry!”
“If you don’t stop apologizing, I’m going to come over there and take that cage back. Is that what you want?”
“No. No, Sir.”
“Are you still wearing it?”
“Yes, Sir. Yes. It’s…a bit of a mess right now.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Vincent. If the cage is still on, you’re still keeping to your part of the bargain.”
“But I came!” He sounded so endearingly frustrated about it.
“I know that. And it’s impressive that you did. I’m in shock and awe at the moment.”
“Really? I thought I was going to be in so much trouble.”
“Nope. Just go have your shower and clean yourself up. I don’t count nocturnal emissions as proper orgasms. They are out of your control.”
He let out a long breath. “Thank you, Sir.”
“I think you’re doing great so far.” I really did.
“Thank you, Sir.” He sounded so relieved.
“I mean, if you had a wet dream, you must have been asleep?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I was,” he said with relief.
“Do you remember your dream, Vincent?”
He hesitated. Then, “Kind of. I mean, bits of it.”
“Tell me.”
“There were anal balls involved.”
“Dark purple ones?”
“Yep.”
“I see.”
“I’ve got to go shower, Sir, or I’ll be late for work.”
“Well, we can’t have that. Text me later.”
“Okay. Bye.”
Seven-twenty p.m.
I can’t stop thinking about those balls, Sir.
The ones from your dream?
Yeah. The ones sitting in your cabinet right this minute. Are we going to try them this weekend?
I haven’t decided yet.
Oh, please! Please, Sir! Please…
Begging won’t work.
Really?
Not over text anyway. Maybe when you’re here, if you beg properly, I’ll consider it.
I’ll do anything for those balls, Sir. Anything.
I’ll keep that in mind. Good night, Vincent.
Good night, Sir.
Wednesday passed with only good morning and good night texts from Vincent. He seemed to be getting used to the cage. I’d asked if he’d had another wet dream and he’d said no.
I still couldn’t believe he’d come in the cage, however, it was something I wanted to explore when he was here. Some men could orgasm when confined, depending on the circumstance, and the emotions they experienced when forced to come in chastity could be interesting. The key seemed to be anal stimulation, so I figured we were golden.
Again, on Thursday, only a good morning and a good night text.
Friday, six-o-five a.m.
It happened again! *sobbing emoji*
What did?
I came in the cage! *multiple sobbing emojis*
Do you usually have wet dreams, Vincent, when you aren’t wearing a cock cage?
No! Not since I was twelve!
Interesting. What was the dream about, Vincent? Those balls again?
No. You were in it.
Really. What was I doing?
You were behind me.
Naturally.
But you had a cock, Sir.
Oh?
And you were fucking me with it. Hard.
I grinned when I read this. Well, now, isn’t that interesting? And that was the thought that had pushed him over the edge Sunday afternoon.
You know we can make that happen.
Yes, Sir. Please, Sir. Pretty, pretty, please…
You’ll have to be a very, very good boy for me.
I promise. I promise I will be.
Eight-ten p.m.
I can’t wait until tomorrow. I miss you so much.
I miss you too, Vincent. Wear the pink panties. Good night.
On Saturday, Vincent texted me five minutes before he was supposed to arrive.
Sir? My ride bailed. I’m so sorry. I’ll order an Uber now but I’m going to be way late.
Don’t be silly. I’ll come get you. Wait for me out front.
I don’t want you to go to any trouble, Sir. I’ll just order an Uber.
Don’t order an Uber. I will be there in ten minutes.
Yes, Sir. *heart emoji*
It had rained all morning and was coming down hard now. It drummed on the roof of my car as I pulled into the curved drive at Vincent’s apartment complex, wipers going at top speed.
Instead of standing underneath the shelter of the front entrance, he was on the sidewalk, completely drenched, in just a hoodie, sweatpants and sneakers. He saw my car and waved, clutching a rucksack to his chest. At least the rucksack looked waterproof.
I pulled up and pressed the button to slide down the passenger window. “Get in the car, Vincent.”
He immediately complied, throwing his rucksack into the back and sliding into the passenger seat with an apologetic grin on his water-streaked face. His soaked hair stuck to his forehead.
I pulled away from the curb, radiating disapproval.
“Thanks for picking me up, Sir,” he said.
“Don’t you own a raincoat, Vincent?” I asked. “Why didn’t you stand under the roof?”
“It’s just a little rain. I wanted to make sure I saw your car pull up.”
I couldn’t help a laugh escaping, even though I was still pissed off. “A little rain! You’re soaked. And I’m thinking of googling flash flood warnings.”
“Okay, Mom,” he said, but when my head snapped around he backpedaled. “I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t call you that.”
I stared at the road, gripping the steering wheel. “Show me your cock in that cage, Vincent. Right now.”
He laughed, then realized I wasn’t joking. His face paled. “What?”
“Pull the front of your sweats and the panties down so I can see it.”
“Oh God, really? Really?”
“Yes, Vincent.”
His hands shook as he complied with my order. His face went completely red. His cock looked sweet and innocent in its cage.
I licked my lips then
met his gaze.
His eyebrows were raised in silent inquiry.
“Good boy. Everything looks as it should. You can cover yourself now.”
He seemed relieved as he readjusted his clothing, but I wasn’t finished with him.
“Put your middle finger in your mouth.”
He gaped at me but did what I asked.
“Now suck it. Make it nice and wet.” His eyes widened but he sucked and slurped on his finger. I gave him bonus points for the sounds.
“Now put it in my mouth.”
He made a small noise as he pulled the finger from his mouth and reached it toward me.
It proved tricky to drive while sucking on another person’s finger, I discovered, although as far as kinky stuff to do while driving, it was fairly benign. I worked his finger as if it were his uncaged cock as he moaned and shifted in his seat. I continued for a couple of blocks then bit down so he pulled his finger out of my mouth.
“Ow.”
“Sorry. I couldn’t really tell you to take it out of my mouth.”
“Yes, Sir,” he breathed, staring at me with anticipation and agitation. “Now what do I do?”
“Put it in your mouth again. Make it even wetter.”
He did. When he spoke, his words were garbled. “Um, isn’t this your street?”
I smiled as I drove past. “Yes, it is. But I’m going to drive around the block.”
“Oh.”
“And you are going to slide your hand down the back of your pretty pink panties and play with your hole.”
He blinked. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“What if…what if someone sees me?” He peered out of the car window. Because it was pouring with rain there were few people about and those seemed intent on their business.
“Do it. Now.”
“But, Sir…”
“Vincent. I want you to sit on that finger and I want you to do it now.”
He gave me a shaky and sullen, “Yes, Sir,” and proceeded to push his hand down the back of his sweatpants and under the waistband of his panties.
“Safewording is always an option,” I reminded him.
“I know that, Sir.”
It turned out it was even harder to drive when your very cute passenger was fingering himself beside you, at your order. I tried to keep my eyes on the road but I was able to get glimpses of him and watch from my periphery. He leaned forward, pushing his ass out against the seat, and I saw his hand moving under the fabric.
“Are you touching your asshole, Vincent?” I said very quietly.
“Yeah,” he said. “Fuck, yeah.”
“Good boy. Rub your finger over it slowly,” I whispered, even though nobody could hear me. It made it seem even more depraved and naughty.
He closed his eyes and made a sound.
“Is the cage getting tight right now?”
“Yeah,” he moaned.
“Then you’re doing it right.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Okay. Now slide that finger inside your ass. Right now.”
He let out a long groan as he obeyed my order. “Oh fuck, Sir. Fuck.”
“Is it all the way up there?”
“Yeah,” he grunted.
“Good boy. Now wiggle it.”
He did, making breathless little noises as he worked himself up.
“If you can make yourself come in that cage, I’ll give you a very fun reward.”
I tossed it out there, not expecting it but thinking I’d enjoy watching him try.
His movements became rougher, more frantic. He was all twisted up trying to finger-fuck himself and I was loving every minute of it. Thankfully, the streets were almost empty of other cars.
He made stuttering sounds of pleasure and I thought he might actually come. He was pumping himself pretty good.
“Pull down the front of your pants, Vincent. Now.” My voice sounded ragged and excited.
He grabbed at his waistband with his left hand and pulled the rain-wet cloth from over his caged prick.
“Oh fuck. I’m going to pull over, but you’re going to keep at it. I mean what I say. If you can make yourself come in that thing, I will be so impressed, and I will do something very special for you, even though you’ve been a very naughty boy, standing in the pouring rain. You’re going to catch your death!” I made myself sound like the world’s sternest parent as I pulled to a stop by the curb where there was a grassy space between the last house and a wooded area.
Vincent seemed oblivious as he groaned and rocked his hips, his arm stretched behind him, wrist disappearing down the back of his pants.
I sat there with my hands on the steering wheel, my mouth open, breaths coming fast as he reamed himself viciously. His cock bulged through the metal rings of the cage, leaking so much pre-cum that I wondered how I’d tell when he actually climaxed, if he climaxed.
Then he uttered a soft moan and stiffened. Spunk oozed out his glans and spilled over the steel bar at the tip of the device. Most of it soaked into his sweatpants but I didn’t give a fuck about the leather seat at the moment.
Vincent shuddered and jerked as more fluid pulsed out of him, like milk from a frother. His eyes were squeezed shut and he continued to moan quietly. It was seriously one of the hottest things I’d ever seen. He kept fucking himself until it ended then pulled his hand out of his pants and sagged back against the passenger seat, his eyes closed, face flushed, mouth open.
“Bravo,” I whispered, truly awed. “Bravo, my beautiful boy.”
He turned his head and opened his eyes, gazing at me sleepily. I wanted to applaud but that would have been crass. Instead I offered him a sincere smile, which he returned. Then I pulled a wet wipe from the package in the console and held it out to him, my eyebrows raised.
He shook his head and rolled his eyes, but took it from me and cleaned his hand. “Can we go to your place now?”
I took him upstairs and put him in the bath, washing him with a soft cloth. I was unbelievably impressed and so horny after that performance that I could barely contain myself.
When we’d finished and he was drying off, I said, “That display in the car made me really horny, Vincent. Just looking at your cock in that steel cage turns me right the fuck on.”
“I’m glad, Sir.”
“But when I saw you standing out in the rain, getting soaked to the skin in the cold, I was furious. I need you to take better care of yourself.”
He blinked, maybe wondering if I was joking.
“I’m serious, Vincent.”
“Yes, Sir,” he said, seeming chastened.
“And if you want to call me anything other than ‘Sir’ it had better be my name or ‘Daddy’ and not that other thing. Got it?”
His head bobbed frantically. “Yes, Sir, sorry, Sir. I won’t call you that again.”
“Because, Vincent, if I have to go all Daddy on you, I won’t hesitate. If you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like one.”
He gaped at me, and I saw the wheels turning as he wondered what ‘going all Daddy on him’ meant.
I sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned him over. He was dry but still naked, which suited me just fine.
“Kneel.”
He went down on his knees in front of me.
I leaned back and spread my legs. I was wearing a pair of stretchy jeans and his eyes flew to my crotch.
“Take off my jeans,” I said, my voice deep and husky.
He glanced up at me with excitement.
“Do it.”
He reached toward the fly of my jeans then pulled the zipper down with his long fingers. I could hardly wait to get them off.
He slid his fingers under the waistband and tugged as I leaned back on my hands and lifted my ass to assist him. He drew them down to my thighs as his mouth dropped open.
“Oh fuck. You’re not wearing underwear,” he breathed, his eyes flitting up to mine briefly.
He breathed deep and
I knew he smelled me. The sex smell wafted up from my bare crotch and the soaked denim he was holding. I liked it as much as he did.
“All the way off.”
He pulled them past my ankles and off my feet and tossed them to the side. I was still leaning back on my hands. Now I stared at him as I slowly, slowly, spread my legs wide.
He closed his eyes, then opened them. They burned blue fire as he stared at my crotch like he wanted to have me for breakfast. He glanced at me with a question, his trembling hands gripping his naked thighs.
Because I was a bastard, I stared at him silently, not giving him any orders but letting the suspense and his barely controlled desire build. He remained obediently as he was while I bought a hand forward to play with myself.
He opened his mouth. His gaze followed my hand as I rubbed myself for several moments, then lifted my fingers to my mouth and sucked noisily.
He moaned and trembled like a puppy being denied its dinner. If I hadn’t been so fucking horny, I’d have laughed. But this was no laughing matter.
I played my fingers in my folds again, as Vincent’s eyes widened and he looked like he might explode. Then I held them out and said one word.
“Lick.”
He grabbed my wrist and guided my fingers into his mouth where he held me, licking and sucking the juices off me, moaning and slurping while I tried not to writhe with the need that suddenly jolted in my groin, my belly and up my spine.
“Stop!” I said, pulling my hand from him because it was too much and not enough at the same time.
I needed more. I spread my legs wider, pointed at my crotch and leaned back. “Make me come, boy.”
I didn’t give him anything more specific, and he surprised me by grabbing my thighs and spreading me before diving into my cunt, face first. I cried out and cursed involuntarily as he went at me frantically, nosing into me and using his tongue like the dick I had trapped, poking it around my clit then plunging it inside me as he elbowed me apart and spread me with his long fingers.
