Preparing myself for them to cage my cock

A man lies in an empty bathtub, carefully shaving his crotch. Photo.
Photo by Monstrous Jaffa, used with permission.

This photo inspired so many filthy thoughts, especially because I want to grow as an erotica writer and write more smut featuring masc characters right now. The act of shaving (or being shaved, *swoon*) is hot in itself, but today I want to focus on the anticipation that shaving before a big scene can bring. For example, how would it feel if you were preparing for your dominant to lock up your dick in a cock cage?

Content note for humiliation and consensual gas-lighting. 

We agreed on two weeks this time.

I try and convince them that it’s not a fair to make me do something when I agreed to when their hand is on my dick. I plead for my sentence to be reduced, knowing that I asked them to coerce me into agreeing to a longer time by edging me until I’ll say anything to be allowed to come. It was my idea but I still beg, and their mocking smile still makes my dick twitch.

Two weeks will the longest they’ve locked me up in the cock cage. Not the longest that they’ve been in control of my dick though: they always own my dick, as they reminded me last night when I asked them for permission to come. (“No, it will be hotter if you ruin it. Ruin your orgasm and send me a photo of you crying in frustration, slut.“) The cock cage ups the intensity though, making me more dependant on them, more vulnerable.

Which is exactly how they like me.

Everything they make me do before they actually lock me into the cock cage is to force me to confront that this is what I want. They love making me admit how much I love the twisted things they do to me. I like feeling helpless and submissive and know that I’ve given them very real control over something as intimate as my dick, I just don’t like them holding my chin so I can’t look away while they wait for me to actually say that.

So of course that’s the first thing they do, after they’ve told me to strip. I’m used to being naked in their living room while they’re still fully dressed, but I never get used to the unsettled feeling it gives me. They get off on my discomfort, of course, and they keep the flat warm enough that they know that if I shiver it’s from fear or arousal or shame rather than cold.

They force me to admit that I want them to do this. They tease me for getting so hard when I talk about them locking up my dick. They smirk as I blush and stumble my way through the words that are so hard to say allowed, and then they sink to their knees in front of me.

It’s the last orgasm I’ll get for two weeks, and I wish they’d let me savour it. Instead they suck my dick almost ruthlessly. It feels like they’re fucking me with their mouth around my dick and there’s no way I can hold back – especially after last night’s ruin. It’s not long until I’m coming down their throat and they sit back, looking up at me as they swallow. Hard.

I know their dick is hard too, but they don’t bend me over the arm of the sofa to fuck me. They’ll do that later, when my dick can’t get fully hard. It’s more fun for them that way, apparently. And anyway, we haven’t finished preparing for them to lock me into the cock cage. Next, they’re going to watch me while I shave.

Knowing that they refuse to shower with me because it makes me feel more exposed doesn’t help. It’s so hot in theory, but sitting in their bath tub as they watch me wash myself somehow feels more intimate than when they’re inside my ass. I think it would be easier if they touched themselves or instruct me with filthy words, but they don’t say anything. By the time I drain the water away and they hand me the shaving kit, I have begun to embrace the vulnerability.

I shave myself carefully, slipping further into subspace. They still don’t speak, but they are right next to me – helping me when I need them. All I want right now are their hands on me. Until they do touch me, and it comes with another challenge.

“Remind you why I make you shave yourself?”

I lean forward until our foreheads are pressed together. This time they let me close my eyes: it’s easier to admit the embarrassing things if I don’t have to see the way their eyes light up. Not that their hunger for me isn’t hot…

“Because you own my dick and you want to be able to see how pathetically it twitches when you lock it up and remind me who’s in charge.”

They kiss me lightly, encouragement to keep going.

“You want me to be completely on show for you, to make my submission obvious even if I’d rather hide it. And I want that too.”

“Good slut.”

It shouldn’t be possible to feel more exposed like this than I do when I’m naked. It shouldn’t be possible that despite preparing for this, despite wanting this, I still panic and try to twist away from them as they click the cock cage into place. We agreed on two weeks this time, but it’s not until the lock clicks shut that I realise how fucked I am.

Which is exactly how they like me, and exactly what I want.

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