This story is an original work. It should not be reposted or reproduced in whole or in part without the author's consent. Copyright 2021 by Jeff Hamby. All rights reserved.
Warning: This story contains sexual acts between adult males. If you do not enjoy this type of material, or if it is illegal in your country or place of residence, please stop reading immediately. This story is not in any way an accurate depiction of reality, and any relationship to real persons or acts are unintentional. This story is fiction.
If you enjoy this story, please make a donation to Nifty! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
Cody's On-Call
Chapter 3
I am losing my ability to cope. All I can think about is Cody. I've been locked in this chastity cage for almost a month, a cage Cody has the key to. A cage he locked me in because it amuses him, without bothering to ask my permission. My opinion on the matter wasn't important to him -- still isn't. I see that now. Each time I see him, I pray he will remove it, pray I will get some relief from the throbbing of my full, aching balls, but it never happens. Always, I show it to him, reminding him it's there, silently pleading with him to remove it, even for a moment. Even the brief chance to feel my dick get fully hard, free of this unyielding plastic prison, would be paradise. But each time he just laughs, then ignores both the cage and my pleas.
The cage remains a part of me, a part I hate, the extra weight between my legs a constant reminder of Cody, keeping me always right on the edge, always in a state of desperate need.
His use of me changes. At first, it was simple: he was a horny, busy, straight jock that liked getting his cock sucked, perhaps his feet massaged. But now, it's gone far beyond that. Each time he summons me, he pushes further, finds new ways to use me, new ways to test my devotion to him and the limits of my willingness to obey him. Each time he does, I am shocked at how far I will go, how much I am willing to put up with for the opportunity to worship his cock, for the opportunity to grovel at his feet and serve such a beautiful alpha male. Previously, I knew what to expect. Now, I have no idea what he will demand when he summons me. But at least the summons come more often now. Several times a week, usually. Once, I was summoned twice in one day; first, in the evening, so he could feed me his cock and cum, then much later, right before he headed to bed. The second time he didn't even let me inside, just walked out to where I was kneeling on the patio and pulled out his cock. As soon as my mouth opened, he began to piss. The cruel bastard wouldn't even allow me to hold his cock in my mouth, but instead held it just out of reach. As soon as he was done, he unlocked my collar and sent me on my way. His message was clear: you are here to serve me, no matter how trivial my needs, any time, any way I want it. I drove forty minutes round trip in the middle of the night just to be his urinal, and didn't even get to touch his body.
I hate this treatment. At the same time, I love him for it. My need for him grows daily. The more he uses me, the more demanding he is, the more I crave him. And I hate that.
But I can't stop.
I want nothing more than to plead with him, to beg him with every fiber of my being to remove this horrible cage, to allow me to fully worship him the way I used to, but I know better than to speak in his presence. So instead, I send him the most pathetic texts in existence. Groveling. Promising. Begging like I never knew I could beg; begging to worship him like a god, begging to serve him, begging to suffer for him, if only he will allow me to, if only he will remove the cage so I can have my life back. I read these texts later, and I am ashamed of myself, disgusted by how sniveling and pathetic they make me sound. But I can't seem to stop myself from writing them. Every time I read them, I swear I will stop, will put an end to my virtual groveling. But then my balls start to throb with their unspent cum, and I find myself composing yet another pathetic text of submission, hoping it will convince Cody to have mercy on me.
But he never does.
I will do anything he wants. Anything. And he knows it. Then I realize: this is another lesson he is teaching me. Another of his wordless, practical, painful lessons in how to obey him. A lesson that pleasing him is all that matters.
Cody never deigns to respond to my messages. When he replies, it is only to summon me for more service. Never any words, just a time he wants me.
To him, I'm nothing more than a tool to use.
Then, the silence comes.
Two weeks, and nothing. No summons. I for him to use me, but nothing. I am out of my mind, both with horniness and with fear, fear that this is the end and my jock god has forsaken me.
My hormones rage, with no relief in sight. I have no idea when he will remove the cage, if ever. Perhaps this is forever? I shove that thought aside, unable to fathom what that would be like. Lately, the closest I can get to release is when he fucks me, when his thrusts milk some of the pent-up cum out of my balls, even though there is no pleasure in it, ejaculation with no climax. I am desperate for release. I buy a dildo, a big one that reminds me of Cody's cock, but without the perfection of size and shape his has. I ride the dildo, fucking myself with it, hoping it will scratch the itch deep inside me, but it's not the same. It only makes things worse, makes me crave the real thing even more. Despite that, I keep fucking myself with it. It's all I've got.
The silence finally ends one Saturday night, late. "Now," the message says. I rush right over. As usual, the patio is dark when I arrive, for which I am grateful. When he's feeling mean, Cody turns on the outside light, making sure I am even more exposed to anyone looking out their window. But tonight, I will be able to get undressed and collared in the dark as soon as my eyes adjust. I strip, then open the wooden chest, only to find a surprise: Cody has left handcuffs for me, right next to the collar. A tremor of fear goes through me. What does he have planned? The only other time he handcuffed me, he beat me with his belt. Nevertheless, my need quickly overrides my fear and better judgment. I secure the collar and lock my clothes in the chest, then snap the cuffs into place behind my back. I move to my usual spot to kneel and wait, but there is something in the way, something I can't quite make out in the darkness.
Then the lights come on. The outside light blinds me momentarily, exposing me to anyone who cares to look. Inside, Cody has turned on the living room light as well. I can see the couch has been turned to face the patio, and he is sitting there, watching me.
And he is not alone.
Another young guy sits next to him. I've never seen him before. He's athletic-looking, about Cody's age, only bigger. Maybe six foot or so, with broad shoulders. His dark blond hair sets off his big blue eyes. He's wearing a workout shirt and gym shorts, with a baseball cap on his head turned around backwards. He looks like a jock, like Cody, and he's staring at me with a sneer on his face.
I'm stunned and humiliated, being shown off like this. No. That's only partially accurate. The truth is, I'm fucking terrified. Terrified of being seen like this by another person, a stranger. This has always been a very private thing, just me and Cody, and I've done things for him and let him use me in ways I've never even considered with someone else. That's how bad my obsession for him is. Despite the constant threat of being seen by his neighbors out here on his patio each time I arrive, all of his use of me, all of the humiliating things he's put me through have been in the privacy of his apartment. Just our secret. What I like to think of as our private arrangement, even a relationship of sorts.
But not anymore.
I have no idea how to interpret this new development. Coming to terms with my own need for Cody's abuse was bad enough; now, he's putting that need on display, taking it out of the shadows and shining a light on it for his friend to see, making it entertainment for the two of them. It's like having to admit what I am, what I crave, all over again, only this time in front of a total stranger.
I am mortified. This blond guy, I realize, has never seen me before, never known me as a normal person. To him, I'm only what Cody has told him, and what he can see for himself: a groveling, desperately horny faggot, ready to beg for cock. I suddenly realize he will never see me as anything else. No matter what happens from here on out, I'll always be just an obedient cock slut in his eyes.
The front of my jockstrap is already soaking wet from my precum, and it's obvious to anyone who can see the bulge that my dick is under lock and key. I can't look at Cody or his buddy, instead lowering my eyes to the ground, terrified of what Cody has planned. Instead, I move forward to kneel. That's when I see it. I've been so distracted by Cody and his friend, I haven't paid attention to what is now right in front of me.
The patio light has revealed the object I couldn't make out in the dark. In the spot on the concrete where I usually kneel to wait sits is a short stool with a flat wooden top. Attached to the seat is a dildo - a very large one. It's not as big around as Cody's fat cock, but it's probably several inches longer. It's much bigger than the one I bought to use on myself. This monster must be almost a foot long. Its presence, along with the couch being moved to face the patio, makes the implication clear. They want me to impale myself on this for their entertainment. I have to fuck myself in front of an audience.
I look inside to the couch were Cody and his buddy are sitting, and make direct eye contact with Cody. I am pleading with him with my eyes, "Please, don't make me do this." His eyes never waver from mine, his gaze burning into my soul. His hand, already in his lap, slowly caresses his crotch, reminding me of what he has hidden there, the dick that I dream about at night. He stares, as if daring me to defy him, reminding me, silently, what saying no would mean. He is challenging me, testing my obedience to him with this task, forcing me to perform such a humiliating act here in front of his friend. This is another of Cody's lessons for me, a clear test not only of my obedience, but my devotion to him, my obsession with serving him.
I lower my gaze. He knows me better than I know myself. Before I realize what I'm doing, I'm moving toward the stool, preparing to skewer myself on this monstrous rubber cock. I try to position myself to take it, only to realize two things: the height of the stool makes the dildo too high to just sit on; and, what's worse, it's dry. I look around, but Cody has left me no lube. I glance at him. He's smirking. That's when I realize he hasn't neglected to lube the dildo -- he did it on purpose. He wants to see how low I will go to amuse him and his friend, to see just how desperate for his cock I really am.
I am ashamed of myself when I find out.
It's humiliating as hell, but there is no choice: I kneel down next to the stool, put the tip of the dildo in my mouth, and begin sucking on it, lubing it up with my saliva. The more of it I can swallow, the more my throat will lubricate its length. I feel like some sort of an animal, kneeling here and sucking on a rubber cock while these two men watch. I glance up at them. They are talking and laughing as they watch me, though I can't hear what they are saying. It doesn't matter. My imagination is quite willing to fill in their comments, none of them flattering. Better that I should try and ignore them, so I concentrate on the dildo, trying to get it all the way down my throat. But no, it is just too big. Unlike Cody's massive cock, the dildo isn't as pliable, isn't shaped right to slide down my throat, but I manage to swallow a good portion of it. When I finally pull off of it, the rubber cock glistens wetly in the porch light. I hope it is enough.
I try to find the right position to take it up my ass, but that's difficult with my hands cuffed behind me. Despite my best efforts, I can't get the angle right, and I can't grab the dildo to maneuver it with my restrained hands. I can see Cody growing impatient out of the corner of my eye, so I finally abandon my last shred of dignity and gingerly climb atop the stool, my feet balanced on the edges of the seat. I position myself carefully over the phallus, until I can feel the tip pressing against my hole. Slowly, carefully, I try to lower myself on to this fat horn of rubber. I feel like a monkey trying to balance on a ball; it's unbelievably humiliating. I can see the men inside, laughing and joking about my predicament. I blush from shame, but by now I am fully committed, the first few inches of the dildo inside me, splitting me apart, provoking involuntary gasps and groans from me. They sound unnaturally loud in the quiet night, so I bite my lip hard, determined to remain silent, in deathly fear of waking Cody's neighbors and being caught like this.
I shift on the stool, trying to ease the dildo further inside me, but the stool is small, and my position on it is precarious, at best. Quick as a wink, I lose my balance, one leg slipping out from underneath me, and, before I can react, I fall onto the dildo, gravity and my own weight driving it deep into my guts. I end up with my feet on the ground, the stool tilted forward on two legs. I am impaled, at least nine inches of the dildo up my ass. Inside, Cody and his jock buddy are cracking up at what happened. I see them high-five each other, like they had figured something like this would happen. This is a degrading torture for me, but it's pure entertainment for these two jocks. As I take a moment to catch my breath and adjust to the rubber invader inside me, I catch a look from Cody, it's meaning clear: I'm not done until I am seated on the stool, the entire length of the dildo lodged inside me.
Slowly, carefully, painfully, I straighten up the stool, the phallus moving in and out of my hole as I do so, my own actions fucking me slow and deep. It's easier now, with so much of it buried in my ass, to position myself correctly. The last few inches are the toughest; this dildo is longer than anything I've ever had inside me. It's pushing into places never touched before, far past the point when I expected it would bottom out. I've never felt penetration like this; the pain spreads through my lower abdomen. I can't take any more, but I am still just shy of being able to sit. I look inside, directly at Cody, silently pleading with him, the torment evident on my face. He smirks, giving me no quarter, as demanding as ever. His hand slowly strokes the hard bulge in his shorts, running halfway across his leg. He's grown hard watching me suffer, watching me abase myself in front of him and his friend. I look at his angelic face, that grin which hides so much cruelty, then down again at the cock I crave, the cock I worship, and that does it. Like magic, my asshole opens and takes the last of the dildo. The very tip of the dildo enters my second sphincter deep inside me. As it does, it forces from my lips a loud groan, the kind that only comes from being stuffed completely full of a big hard cock. The groan echoes off the concrete walls of the patio, loudly enough I'm shocked no one nearby turns on a light or looks out to investigate it.
The hard wood of the stool is pressed against my ass, and I am pinned like a pig on a spit. I hang my head, the shame of it all is almost too much to bear.
I don't know what I expected would happen. Perhaps I have been so caught up in the moment I haven't thought about that, but I am surprised they leave me here like this: impaled, exposed, trapped. With my hands cuffed behind me, and the dildo buried a foot up my ass, there is no way for me to get loose, no way to escape now, even if I want to. The movements required to free myself are impossible now.
I'm going nowhere until Cody decides I am. Another of his lessons for me, no doubt.
It is a special kind torture, sitting here, impaled and helpless, sweating from the stress and the hot night air, watching them inside in air-conditioned comfort, amused at my predicament, ignoring my agony. Even worse, my caged dick has gone into overdrive, throbbing inside its plastic restraint, dripping copious amounts of precum, enough to completely soak the front of my jockstrap and leak out in a long thread onto the pavement.
They leave me, cuffed and stuffed, exposed in the porch light, while they talk and get more beers. I begin to wonder if this is it, if this was all Cody wanted -- to show me off to his friend, to display the desperate faggot that comes running at his beck and call, willing to do anything it takes to serve him. Perhaps that is all I am good for tonight: twisted entertainment for two half-drunk alpha jocks, looking for something different to amuse them late on a Saturday night.
But no. Finally, Cody unlocks the door and they both walk outside. Cody grabs both my nipples and pinches them, pulling them so hard the top half of my body follows him, shifting the dildo deep inside me and eliciting another load groan which echoes in the still night. While Cody holds me by my tits, rolling my delicate nipples between his fingers, the blond walks around behind me. Cody has bent me forward, shifting my weight, as the blond grabs the back legs of the stool and pulls them backwards, sending me toppling forward, the dildo oozing partially out of my hole. I cry out as I fall, gravity stronger than Cody's grip on my nipples. They are jerked from his hands before I land on my knees, my face planted right on Cody's feet.
Cody shoves my head back up, then snaps his fingers and turns around. He walks inside, not even looking back, so confident is he that I'm following. I slowly manage to start crawling behind him, struggling to obey, as if I would consider doing anything else. His buddy follows me in, holding the legs of the stool, using the rubber shaft up my ass to drive me forward, like a cowboy herding livestock.
Once I'm inside, the blond locks the door behind me, then he and Cody lift me up and set the stool upright. When they let go of me, I'm left to slide down the length of the dildo again until I am firmly and securely seated, my insides stretched. Now I understand why Cody used this low stool: it puts me at a good height for his cock. He moves in front of me, the bulge in his grey workout shorts immediately capturing my full attention. He reaches out and grabs my nipples again, dragging me forward by my tits until my face is where I most want it to be -- right against his huge cock. I moan and mouth it greedily, desperate to get it inside me, to be as filled with Cody's manhood as I am with this horrible giant dildo.
Behind me, the blond grabs the legs of the stool and tilts it over again, though this time, I'm prepared and just end up on my knees, my face pressed even more firmly into Cody's crotch. I can feel the dildo snaking its way out of my ass slowly, until the blond guy grabs hold of the legs of the stool again. He uses them to fuck the dildo in and out of my ass, making me groan into Cody's cock. They are laughing about it, laughing at my predicament, commenting to one another as if I was no more than an interactive game they are both playing.
Cody pulls down the front of his gym shorts, hooking the waistband under his balls, slapping me in the side of my face with his cock. My mouth is already open, trying desperately to catch the head of his cock in my mouth. I need it inside me so badly. He teases me with it, rubbing it on my lips, but not allowing me to suck it. I can only stick out my tongue and taste it, feel the heat coming from it, perhaps catch a small drop of his precum and savor it. Finally, he sticks it in my mouth, and I am in paradise. Even with the huge dildo deep in my ass, my mind is focused completely on Cody, on worshiping him; becoming, for this short time, a part of him, as I take him deep, my tongue in overdrive. In seconds, I have the entire length of his cock down my throat, and I am trying to breath around it, my nose buried in his pubic hair. With his pole down my throat and the dildo rammed inside me, I've never felt so full. The blond pulls on the stool until the dildo is almost completely out of my ass, the tip of it just inside my anal ring, then he shoves it back inside me until the wooden stool is against my cheeks. I scream into Cody's cock, making him sigh with pleasure; he enjoys the vibrations of my throat.
Above me, the guys compare notes about my cock sucking ability. Before I know it, Cody pulls out of my mouth and the blond takes his place, presenting me with his cock. He's big, though not as big as Cody. His cock is thick, maybe eight and a half fat inches, and curves slightly upwards. It fills his fist. He wastes no time shoving it in my mouth, then working the length of it down my throat.
I'm ambivalent. I didn't sign up for this. I don't even know this guy, and now he's balls-deep in my mouth. He's hot enough, and I like the feel of his cock buried down my throat. But Cody didn't ask me, or even consider if this was OK with me. He just took it as his right to invite his bud to use his faggot. On the one hand, I'm disturbed by how casually he chose to share me, as if it was his right. On the other, I can't help but notice -- I haven't stopped sucking. I'm amazed at Cody's control over me. Evidently, his lessons have had their effect.
Maybe Cody is correct: maybe this is within his rights.
In one swift motion, Cody pulls on the legs of the stool and the dildo flies out of my ass, leaving me feeling empty inside, the air cold on my empty hole. As the blond is sawing his fat cock in and out of my mouth, testing my gag reflex, I feel the bulbous head of Cody's dick pressing against my ass. The dildo has opened me up for him; Cody rams into my ass and, for the second time tonight, I scream into the cock down my throat. My body goes rigid -- there is a big difference in having a man shove his cock up your ass, compared to a dildo. Cody is thicker, and his cock is radiating heat. His compact, athletic body belies his strength; he rams into my ass with a lot of power, thrusting into me over and over, while his buddy holds my head down on his prick, enjoying the way my throat muscles spasm around his shaft each time Cody rams into me. Just like the first time he fucked me, my caged dick begins leaking copious amounts of cum every time his cock punches my prostate. Once again, it is a cum shot with no climax -- all the mess but none of the pleasure. He is milking me like a cow, ensuring my hormones continue to run rampant, my horniness remains unchecked and completely out of control.
I am so lost in the sensations that I am not paying attention to what the men are saying to one another. As if it is my business; as if I'd be allowed to contribute to the conversation. Suddenly, both the cocks buried in my holes are gone; I am momentarily empty and confused.
They swap places.
Cody is back in my mouth, and I can taste my own ass on his cock. Nevertheless, I swallow him to the hilt, his balls banging against my chin as the blond shoves into my ass. Even though his cock is not as big as Cody's, he's still pretty well hung, and a big guy overall. The difference is noticeable in how much more power he can muster as he rams his cock into my ass. He is pounding me, fucking me like he hates me, slapping my ass cheeks with his hands. He and Cody develop a rhythm between them, both shoving into my holes at the same time, until I am impaled to the limit on both ends; then withdrawing at the same time, leaving me feeling hollowed out. Their coordinated ramming knocks the breath out of me. I'm forced to gasp for air in between their thrusts. They are talking to one another as they plow me, discussing my holes and my performance, encouraging one another. I realize I am not even a person to them at this point, more of an appliance - a warm, pliable device they can stick their cocks in and get off.
As the blond fucks me, my throat constricts about Cody's cock, and he signs with pleasure each time he buries himself down my gullet. It won't be long now; I can tell he's getting close. The blond says something behind me, and suddenly, they both pull out of me. Again, they switch, and now the blond jock is feeding me his cock again, making me clean the taste of my ass off of it as he fucks my face, his fingers clutching my hair. My arms, cuffed behind me, ache and my shoulders are cramping, but it doesn't matter to these two. All they care about is using my holes to get off. And I'm so pathetic and desperate, I'm working hard to help them do exactly that, in spite of their treatment of me. No, not in spite of it -- because of it. In the heat of the moment, with two big cocks buried balls-deep in both ends of me, I have a moment of clarity: this is what I need, what I crave, more than anything -- the harsh, demanding treatment, even the abuse, only true alpha males can deliver.
Cody rams into me again, coring my hole out with his massive prick, beating up my prostate as he rearranges my guts to fit his cock. He has taken me to that no-man's-land again, right on the crest of an orgasm, where I am almost there, teetering on the edge of ultimate pleasure, but never able to actually take the last step into climax. I know if my dick were unlocked and able to get fully hard, I'd cum without touching it just from the feel of Cody's cock in my hole and the blond down my throat. But that is not to be, because Cody wants it this way. He wants me frustrated, denied pleasure, milked slowly and without enjoyment as he pounds me, my cum slowly pooling inside my jockstrap until the fabric can no longer contain it and it runs out onto the floor.
Cody grabs my hips and slams into me, his cock lodging deep inside my now-bruised guts as he lets out a roar and fills me with his load. The blond lets out a whoop, then shoves my face as far into his crotch as possible, coating my throat and tongue with his load of semen. The two jocks pull out of me and high five each other, like they've just won a game. I lay there on the floor, helpless, until Cody unlocks the handcuffs. I am so grateful to have my arms free I immediately begin kissing his feet to show my gratitude. He snaps his finger and directs me to his cock. He wants it cleaned, and I don't hesitate, sucking him clean, getting the last drops of his cum out of it. He leaves his cock in my mouth as it starts to soften, then puts his hand on my forehead. I know what's coming, and dread it. All that beer had to take its toll sooner or later. But as much as I hate being used this way, having him do it in front of a stranger makes it a thousand times worse. He seems determined to prove to his buddy that I have no shame, no self-respect when it comes to serving him. Sadly, he is right. He is always right, and he proves it once again as his piss begins to flow into my mouth. He holds his dick far enough away from my mouth it's like he is really using a urinal, making sure his bud has an unobstructed view of my ultimate degradation. I am so totally obsessed with Cody, so used to his demands and so anxious to worship him in every way, that even drinking his piss feels like sex.
I am disgusted with myself, but can't stop submitting. But my aching balls, my untouched dick, my deep, unending need for Cody and his cock propel me onward, taking away any ability I may have to say no to him or desires. Cody has made me helpless to his wishes. Cody finishes, his bladder empty, and wipes his cock on my face. But he wasn't the only one drinking; the blond grabs my head and turns it, then aims his cock. My earlier ambivalence is gone. Now I recognize what I need, what I am, and this guy commands my obedience almost as much as Cody. As much as I hate being used as a urinal, I find myself greedily swallowing the blond's piss, his hot recycled beer rapidly filling my belly. Suddenly, I am eager to abase myself for him the same as I do for Cody, eager to please him by drinking his urine, and to please Cody by showing how obedient I am.
When the blond finishes using my mouth, Cody retrieves his keys from the side table and unlocks my collar. This is my moment, I realize, when, as pathetic as it sounds, I stand my best change at getting him to unlock the cage on my dick. I quickly pull down the front of my cum-soaked jockstrap, displaying to both men my deepest shame -- my imprisoned dick. I beginning whining like a dog, looking at Cody with pleading eyes, my desperation written across my face. He laughs, and uses his foot to jiggle the cage, ratting the small metal padlock against the hard plastic, making my aching balls jiggle up and down as well. He and the blond are amused at my predicament, at the shameful fact I agreed to this in the first place. And that's the part that fucks with my head the most: not that Cody has kept me locked in this cruel little cage for so long, or even that he wanted it on me in the first place; rather, it's the fact that he didn't put it on me -- I did. All he did was leave it for me. The choice - to wear it and serve him, or walk away and get on with my life - was mine, and mine alone. I have done this to myself by continually acquiescing to Cody's ever-crueler demands. I wish I could stop, could quit obsessing over him, could quit needing this sort of treatment.
We both know I can't. We both know I won't.
Cody pulls his foot out from under my nuts, a smirk on his face. He snaps his finger and points down to his foot -- it has my cum on it. I immediately bend over and start cleaning the top of his foot, licking his instep, removing any trace of myself from his beautiful bare foot. Just as I am about to start sucking his toes, Cody moves away, going outside to unlock the chest where my clothes are stored. The blond jock takes his foot, much bigger than Cody's, and lightly kicks me right in the cage, just brushing my hypersensitive balls. I sense he does it more out of disdain than simple meanness. Regardless, the kick is just enough to double me over, my face landing on top of his sneaker, which I start licking almost reflexively. Cody has taught me well, it seems.
I hear Cody snap his fingers behind me. I am being dismissed. My usefulness to these two men over, I'm being put away, the same as any other sex toy. I crawl outside, and Cody goes back inside, locks the sliding glass door, and pulls the blinds. I am alone on the lighted patio, with nothing left to do but get dressed and make my way home.
It takes me a while to process everything that happened. Unfortunately, I have plenty of time, since I don't hear from Cody for weeks. Weeks of frustration, longing, and very blue balls. I've lost track of how long he's kept me locked in this terrible device. But the result is plain: I have turned into a sex machine. I think about cock all the time, mostly Cody's, but often his blond buddy's as well. I spend my free time looking at porn, my ass filled with a dildo, dreaming of being used by the men in the videos, and sending pleading texts to Cody, begging for his cock, trying to get him to remember me.
As time goes by without a text, I grow beyond desperate. Cody has turned me into a cum dump, a completely passive sexual creative with no ability to take pleasure, only to give it; two hungry holes desperately needing to be filled. I have resisted the urge to find other men to use me, ashamed of having to show them the cage, or even worse -- explain it. But all this pent-up sexual energy must go somewhere, must have some focus. Finally, I break down, and seek out other men. Cruel men, like Cody, men who want to use me to get off. Some are just horny, talking a big game but really just wanting to get a nut; others are outright mean, taking great pleasure in abusing me, mocking me for the cage between my legs, making me suffer for their amusement. These guys are more satisfying, but all of them pale by comparison to my young alpha jock Cody.
None of them can relieve the burning hunger in my soul, the throbbing in my balls. Only Cody has that power.
Two months go by, with nothing from Cody. I feel abandoned, but hold out hope. Always hope. I have learned to live with the cage by now, to tolerate and manage the constant, burning desire. I have purchased more dildos and a few butt plugs. Most days I am plugged, even at work. Cody has reduced me to just two holes for men to use, my orifices my only sexual organs. So, I use them, even though the plugs and dildos are sad imitations of the real thing. They are better than nothing.
My messages to Cody, begging him to use me, disappear into the ether. They no longer even show if he has read them or not. Finally, I am so desperate for him, I drive by his apartment one day, when I'm sure he will be at school, just for a chance to be near him in some way. The blinds on the front windows are open, and I can see inside. It looks empty. I sneak around back, trying to be as casual as possible so as not to attract attention, and quietly slip on to his patio. The blinds on the sliding glass door are pulled back, and I can see the apartment is vacant. Even the wooden chest on the patio is gone, and, with it, my hopes. I feel so stunned, so abandoned; I sit down right there on the concrete of his patio, where I spent so many hours kneeling, sweating, and suffering. I sit there in the sunlight, and I cry.
I make my way home, then cry some more. Cody treated me like a sex toy, something he could pull out of a drawer and use when he was horny, then put away until he wanted to play with it again. I shouldn't be surprised by this development -- any relationship we had was entirely in my mind. He was like an alpha male jock god to me; I was nothing but a cum dump to him. Once I cry out all of my emotions, I am forced to admit the obvious truth - obvious, at least, to anyone not obsessed -- that this was entirely predictable.
Deciding what to do with the chastity cage is more complicated. Removing it would be easy, just a quick snip with a set of bolt cutters, then the padlock would fall away and I'd be free of the dreadful thing. But it's always been that easy. It wasn't the padlock that kept me locked in it; it was Cody's will, and my obedience to his will. It was my desire to keep serving him, to keep having him use me, which kept me imprisoned in that hateful plastic contraption. Now, of course, I can just cut it off and move on with my life.
Except...I'm reluctant to do it. It's my last connection to Cody, my final enduring link to him. Severing the lock means I have finally severed any chance of serving him again. Surely, if he summons me at some point in the future, he will expect the cage to still be there...
But that's pathetic, not to mention foolish, and I know it. Finally, I muster my will. I cut off the lock and remove the chastity cage. For the first time in months, my dick is free, and it rapidly expands to its full size, a feeling I have almost forgotten. I jack off furiously, over and over, until my balls are empty and my dick is raw.
I feel naked without the cage. It has been on me for so long, it felt like a part of my body, albeit an unpleasant one. I find I miss its weight, the way it acted as a constant reminder of the kind of faggot I am.
I spend the next month trying to get on with my life, trying to get over my thoughts of Cody and his perfect cock, trying to get past my desire to be used by alpha males. I can almost feel myself regaining some sanity, except late at night, when I feel my dick throb and I touch it, still surprised to find it unlocked and free, always imagining the feel of Cody's massive cock buried inside me.
Late one Sunday evening, I am sitting around the house relaxing when my phone buzzes. I do not recognize the number, but open the text.
"4236 Willowbrook Ct. Back door. 8pm"
Chills go down my spine. Cody has found me again. He wants me again. I knew it! Now, I am cursing myself for cutting off the chastity cage, certain he will be furious, possibly even reject me outright when he finds out. I have no idea what happened with him, but I don't hesitate for a second. I look up the address, and realize I'll need to leave in a few minutes to be there by eight o'clock. I take a moment, though, and lube up my ass, just in case...
It's dark by the time I arrive. This time it's a house in a nice suburban neighborhood. I don't see Cody's car, but a small pickup truck is parked in the driveway with a sticker in the back window from Cody's college. Perhaps he got a new truck after he moved. I park on the street, then walk behind the house. There is a wooden deck, so I climb the stairs and look around. It's not as exposed as Cody's old place, with those two-story apartments all around, but there are houses behind this one; anyone there would be able to see me if the lights were on. Fortunately, it's very dark. Still, this is the chance I've been waiting for, the treatment I need, the use, even abuse, which I crave.
As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can tell the wooden chest isn't on the deck, but a large, locking plastic bin is there, an open padlock sitting on top of it. The message it conveys is clear, so I strip and open the bin. Inside is a new collar, a chain one with rounded spikes on the inside -- a dog obedience collar. Nervously, I slip it around my neck and pull it into place. It doesn't lock on, but the implications of the collar need no explanation -- strict obedience, or suffering.
As I put my clothes into the bin, I see it: another chastity cage, with a mini padlock on it. I feel the fear go up my spine, but, at the same time, a sense of calm comes over me. This is what I'm made for; this is my purpose, and how I am meant to live. I hesitate only a second before I pick up the cage and get it fitted on my dick. I am preparing to click the padlock in place when the light comes on inside the house.
Instinctively, I turn and look, eager for my first glimpse of Cody in months. Instead of a sliding glass door, this place has two large French doors with plenty of windows. The first thing which catches my eye is in front of the French doors, on the deck. I see the wooden stool, the same large dildo attached to it. It's presence here tells me what is expected next, an act I dread to repeat. But then my eyes continue up, past the stool to the windows in the doors. Standing on the other side of the doors, shirtless, dressed only in a thin gray pair or gym shorts, isn't Cody, like I'd expected.
It's the blond. Cody's buddy. He is rubbing his crotch and sneering at me, his look cold, demanding, and impatient.
In that moment, it all becomes clear to me, as if I could suddenly see it all play out in mere seconds: Cody, for whatever reason, has both moved and moved on. He no longer has any need of his on-call faggot. Maybe he finally found a girl to keep him company and meet his needs. But, like a good friend, he has passed me on to his bud. Probably his teammate, obviously his friend, definitively another alpha male jock.
Cody isn't here, will probably never be here, will probably never be inside me again. I've been given to the blond guy, to use however he desires. The only question, of course, is will I accept this change?
I look at the blond as all this becomes clear, and I finally come to terms with the ugly truth about Cody, and about myself. As sad and hurt as I am, I suddenly grateful to be passed on, to be deemed useful enough, obedient enough, to be worth transferring to someone else. A tear rolls down my cheek as I firmly click the padlock in place on the chastity cage, and prepare to mount myself on the giant dildo while my new jock god watches and laughs.
The End
********************************************************** I love to hear from readers! Please contact me at jeffhamby1025@gmail.com