The Cage I Put on Him Before Letting Him Touch Me

You seem nervous. Eager, anxious, with that mix of curiosity and fear that only appears when you have no idea what’s going to happen. And that, exactly that, turns me terribly on.

You know I bought a new toy. You know because this morning, before leaving for work, I sent you a photo on your phone of a little box and, underneath it, wrote four words: “tonight I’ll play with you.” Just that. And with four words I managed to have you wanting me like a madman all day.

Now you’re sitting on a chair in the living room, completely naked, with your hands resting on your thighs and your back straight, waiting. The floor lamp is the only light on, and it cuts your silhouette against the wall. I look at you from above and smile.

—You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you, Adrián? —I ask.

—I haven’t thought about anything else —you admit.

I stroke your hair slowly, then your shoulders, teasing the tips of my nails over your skin. You raise a hand and brush my black silk robe, the one that opens just enough to leave the corset and the garter belt I’m wearing underneath barely visible. I can feel your breathing quicken from the slightest touch.

—I love what you’re wearing —you tell me, your voice rough—. Don’t take it off. I want to fuck you with it on.

—I’m not taking it off —I answer, and let the sentence hang for a second—. But as for fucking me… I don’t think you’ll be able to.

You frown, still amused, not taking me entirely seriously.

—And why wouldn’t I be able to fuck you?

—Because I’m going to put this on your cock.

I hand you the box. You open it carefully, almost reverently, and stare at what’s inside. It’s a chastity cage, small, made of steel, with its curved bars and tiny padlock. It looks cold and uncomfortable, and worst of all: with that on, you won’t even be able to get a decent erection. You look up at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

—You’re joking —you say—. I’m not putting that on.

I expected that. In fact, I was counting on it. I’d already thought through exactly how to convince you.

—Of course you’re going to put it on. Want to know why I’m so sure?

—Go on, surprise me.

—Because if you put it on, I’ll let you touch me. And if not, you can just watch all night.

I take a step back, toward the center of the room, where the light hits me full on. I bring my hands to the knot of my robe and pull slowly. The silk slides from my shoulders, down my back, over my hips, and falls to the floor in a dark puddle at my feet.

Now you can see me in full. The black corset cinches my waist into a line and lifts my breasts to the edge, on the verge of spilling over with every breath. The thong, barely a triangle of lace, covers just enough. The garter belt holds up the stockings climbing my thighs. I know exactly the effect all this has on you, because I chose it this afternoon thinking about this moment.

You stare, dazed. You don’t say a word. You don’t even blink. And since you can’t take your eyes off me, I decide to raise the stakes.

I turn slowly, letting you see how the thong parts my ass, and lean forward, placing my hands on the low table. From your chair, you now have the best possible view. I hear you swallow.

—Look at this… —I murmur.

With one hand I move the fabric aside. With the other, using two fingers, I open myself slowly, showing you how wet I already am just from playing with you.

—Are you really going to tell me you don’t want to touch this?

You don’t hesitate for a second. When I turn back, you’re already wrestling with the lock on the cage. It’s difficult, because you’re hard and it doesn’t fit properly like that, but you grit your teeth and manage it. When you’re done, your cock is tucked inside the steel-bar frame, bent back on itself, trapped. Your balls hang below, free. I watch you shift your hips, uncomfortable, discovering the cold weight of the metal.

—At last I’ve got you exactly where I wanted you.

I step closer and sit on you, astride, one leg on each side of the chair, face to face. I take your jaw in one hand and force you to look at me.

—Let’s see if this is as fun as I think it is.

I kiss you. A long, deep kiss, sliding my tongue into your mouth, tasting you unhurriedly. And you answer with a desperation I didn’t know you had. You grip my waist, dig your fingers into me, grab my hair, scratch the part of my thighs the stockings leave exposed. You’ve become pure fire, and knowing you can’t do absolutely anything with your cock only multiplies the hunger.

—This is torture —you gasp against my mouth.

—That’s the point, baby.

You thrust your hips upward by instinct and I feel the cage stop you dead. Your erection hits the limit of the steel and can’t go any further. It cuts you off halfway. I see frustration on your face and, beneath it, something new: a different kind of arousal, more intense, almost furious. The less you can do, the more you want.

Then I start moving. I grind my wet pussy against the hard surface of the cage, forward and back, setting the rhythm myself. I hold on by looping my arms around the back of your neck. The metal is icy at first, but it warms with my heat. With each rocking motion, one of the bars sinks into me a little, just a few millimeters, just enough to drive me crazy.

The contrast is everything: the cold steel against how hot I am, your wrecked face with desire, the filthiness of having you so helpless beneath me. I don’t need anything else. The first orgasm hits me fast, without warning, and I let it all out.

I scream right above your face. I’m sweating. I’m trembling. I press myself against the cage while the waves roll through me and you feel everything, every spasm, unable to take part. When I catch my breath, I can see you’re on the verge of tearing off the lock and fucking me already. But you know me. You know I still want to play a little longer.

I smile at you and give you a soft kiss on the lips.

—Let me come one more time and I’ll set you free. I promise.

—I don’t know if I can hold out.

—You can hold out. You can because you like it.

I get off your lap. The cage is soaked, shining with my juices. I go to the little table in the corner and open the drawer. I take out the dildo with the suction cup base, the one we sometimes use for double-penetration games. You follow me with your eyes, knowing perfectly well what I’m about to do.

I come back to the chair, kneel, and spread your legs. I stick the suction cup to the edge of the seat, right between your thighs, a handspan from your cage. I press it down firmly to make sure it holds. I leave it there, steady, upright, much more imposing than what you’ve got trapped in steel. The comparison hurts, I can see it on your face, and that’s exactly why I do it.

—Hold me by the waist, baby —I tell you—. Since I can’t use yours, I’ll have to make do with this one. You just watch.

I turn my back to you and position myself on top. I lower myself slowly, feeling it force its way in, and start riding it. It’s so close to your cage that with every downward motion you feel my ass bounce against you, against the metal, against your balls. You grip my waist to help me up and down, setting the full range of motion. Each time I go faster.

—Look how it goes in —I pant—. Look what you’re missing.

You spread my ass with your hands to see better, to watch the dildo disappear and come back out. You can’t help yourself: you suck your index finger and slide it into me slowly, playing, exactly the way you know I like when you fuck me from behind. I moan louder. I feel my juices sliding and dripping onto your balls, which are so swollen they seem about to burst from the pressure built up in them.

The second orgasm splits me in two. I come apart over the dildo, impaled, and if you weren’t holding me I would’ve fallen off the chair. I press the fingers digging into my hips until it passes.

—I need to fuck you —you tell me, your voice breaking—. Now. I can’t take it anymore.

—Of course you can —I answer, still panting, as I get up—. But first I want to leave you nice and clean.

I kneel again between your legs. I start with your balls, licking them slowly, gathering the taste of my own pleasure spilled over them. Your face is indescribable: a mixture of gratitude and desperation I’d never seen before. When I’m done with them, I slide my tongue between the bars of the cage and search for the tip of your cock, trapped and throbbing. You’re so hard the steel is being pressed from the inside, fighting to get out. The chair gleams with the mix of my fluids and my spit.

—I can’t take it anymore —you moan, almost pleading—. I need to cum.

I look up at you from below and, finally, open the lock. The second I remove the steel, you don’t even have time to put it in me. As soon as you’re freed, all the pressure you’d been building for hours comes out in one go, in several long spurts, one after another, while you collapse against the backrest with your eyes closed.

I stay there looking at you, satisfied, breathing hard and grinning from ear to ear.

—Well —I say, picking up the empty cage from the floor—. I’d say the new toy was a hit.

You open one eye, exhausted, still trembling, and laugh weakly.

—Next time —you say between gasps— I choose the toy.

—That —I answer, leaning in to kiss your forehead— we’ll see about.