hi everyone. It's me: slave jim back. i'm going to write some more about our vacation trip, and some other stuff that's important but first... i need to clear the air for some of the readers. Some of you write comments that are very hurtful. Sir Dean agrees that they are over the top. So, please excuse this little bit of self indulgence. Sir Dean does not keep me a prisoner, and i do not have Stockholm Syndrome. i can leave whenever i want: i still have my old apartment. it's empty except for storage stuff, but i could go back if i want. i own my own business, and i have my own money. i stay with Sir Dean because i want to. i don't know if some of you are jealous, or what, but i really don't want to see anymore three page lectures on how the chastity cage is going to disfigure my penis forever, and that Sir Dean and i need therapy.
Ok, sorry for the screed. Now, to continue. i thought that when Sir Dean pushed up the date for me going three weeks in the chastity cage, that was the end of my punishment. Well, it was, except... one night, Sir Dean was speaking on the phone with a good friend of his. He had mentioned Sir Peter a few times, and he was talking to him about our up coming vacation trip to San Francisco. i had never been there, and Sir Dean hadn't missed a Folsom Street festival for at least 20 years. SIr Peter lives in the Bay Area, and they were talking. i was sitting in the butt plug chair: the plug was up my ass, and my hands were tied behind my back. i was naked, and it was about 2.5 weeks into my first three week period of chastity, and i wasn't having an easy time of it. two weeks was much easier than three. Sir Dean just smiled every time he walked by, "accidentally" tweaked one of my nipples, and i grunted. He said he was gonna gag me if i made too much noise. i wanted to ask "which gag Sir?" because i like some more than others, but i know i'd get the spreader gag, the one i like the least.
Anyway, i knew he was talking about me to Sir Peter, because he was talking about "my boy" and "getting him to submit" and things like that. He eventually got around to my punishment and why he had moved things up. Then he was quiet. i heard him saying "uh huh. uh huh. OH! What a great idea." He promised Sir Peter we'd meet when we were there, and then he got off the phone, turned and smiled at me. (Whenever Sir Dean smiles at me, i know i'm in for something). This time though, he said "you've never been, right boy?" "No Sir. i wanted to go, but it never happened. " "I'm going to show you my album. See what's coming up." Sir pulled me off the plug, but he kept my hands tied. He slipped a pair of very tight shorts on me (he called them my Tarzan shorts), and we moved to the sofa. Sir Dean took an album off the shelf. i was surprised when he put his arm around me and began turning the pages.
He started at the beginning, which was the most recent ones. OH MY GOD. i think Sir Dean is one of the hottest men i've ever met, but those pictures from Folsom Street: my SIR walking around with nothing but a leather vest, chaps, and his band on his left arm, carrying a folded whip. His Muir cap. All that beautiful salt and pepper fur on his chest: the hair that i was privileged to feel on top of me so often. i was forward. "please Sir, don't turn the page.." He smiled. "There are more, boy. We'll go back. " There were. i was seeing Sir Dean age in reverse, and he was telling me how Folsom had become, in his words , a "fucking tourist attraction." For exaple, he showed me a photo from about 12 years before. There was my Sir, standing in a group of hot men (he was the hottest). They were all aiming their hard dicks toward a point. "it was a jerk off competition. There were two parts: who could hold it the longest, and who could aim the best." "Did you win Sir, " i asked. He laughed. His answer was "Not that day and not for a while, but now I did," and he squeezed my shoulders. "But you can see, back then, everyone showed their cocks, and what we were doing..." he laughed. "That was tame. Now..." He looked disgusted. "Now, if we did something like this, we'd be arrested for disturbing the peace. Times have changed. " Again, i spoke out of turn. "One thing hasn't changed Sir. You were hot then, and you're hot now. No, Sir, i'm wrong. You were hot then and you're hotter now." Sir Dean smiled and stared at me for a minute. He looked at me without saying anything. Then he just said "Gimme a kiss. " i opened my mouth like i did when he kissed me, and he said "No, just a regular kiss. I don't kiss you enough." We kissed for about five minutes. He was smiling again. "I haven't decided whether or not I want to fuck you tonight, but you have to go and clean your chair, so..." He untied me. "Go get it cleaned up and then come to bed." "Yes sir," i answered. Sir Dean went off to the bedroom, and i got the disinfectant to take care of the seat. When i was done and i went into the bedroom, Sir Dean was under the covers, and snoring. i got into bed, with my back turned to him the way he liked me to sleep. He switched positions and wrapped his arms around me. i could feel his hard cock and i expected he was going to roll me over and fuck me, but instead, he just whispered into my ear "if you think I'm ever going to give you up without a fight, you're mistaken, studmuffin." i didn't say anything but i think i was smiling when i fell asleep.
i keep on thinking that looking at the album and saying what i did resulted in big changes in my relationship with Sir Dean. i think that is true because the next morning i did what i always did in the morning, and got to the kitchen to make the coffee and breakfast. Then i came back to give Sir his morning blow job. When i came in and said good morning, i asked him if he wanted it and he said "yes, but i want a good morning kiss first." i have to admit: that surprised me. Sir Dean is a wonderful lover. i can't say that there is anything i want in bed that he doesn't give me. And he IS a good kisser in his own way: OH MY GOD HIS TONGUE! But the affection of a good morning kiss? Sir Dean had never asked for that. And when i bent down to kiss him, he didn't force my mouth open to shove his tongue in. It was a sweet kiss, like i had gotten when i was in high school and dating. He smiled and said "thank you boy," before he said "Now get to work!" i did. Sir Dean blew a load in my mouth bigger than he had in a long, long time.
That night, when we were both home, had finished dinner and i had cleaned up and got in my butt plug chair, Sir Dean went to the bedroom. i heard the closet door open, and then He came out with one of my favorite shirts - maybe my favorite: it's a dark blue - like midnight blue - button down shirt in a corduroy fabric. Sir Dean was smiling, as he sat down, and i saw him putting something inside the shirt. "This is what you're wearing tomorrow, boy. I'm putting in something that Peter told me he calls "Masters' fingers" It's velcro. It'll rub up against those nipples of yours all day. " He smiled again. "You'll feel like I'm with you all day." Then he put the shirt down, came over to the chair (my wrists were tied, of course), and began playing with my nipples. "You like that boy?" "OH. YES SIR" i answered, because i really did. i've said this before, and i'll probably say it again: if i ever didn't want to give Sir Dean what he wanted, he could get it by playing with my nipples. They WERE getting more and more sensitive. "When I told Sir Peter how i was punishing you for the mistakes when you type, he felt it wasn't enough. He suggested ONE DAY of it. I promised I'd tell him how you handled it. " i could feel my dick getting harder in my cage, if that were even possible. i couldn't remember if i was supposed to be milked on Sunday or Monday (it was Thursday), but i knew it was soon: i was about to pass my first three weeks without release.
Sir Dean didn't fuck me that night, so i knew: he had something wicked in mind: and he did. He did give me a goodnight kiss, and everything was as normal, including the morning blow job on Friday, preceded by a morning kiss. i had forgotten about the Masters' fingers until i put on the shirt. Then there was no way i could forget them, for the rest of the day. Remember when i wrote how the touch of fabric drove me crazy after my piercing? This might have been even worse. i didn't tuck in the shirt to try to give some space between it and my nipples, but it didn't work. As it happened, i needed to go out on a job that day, and i was wincing so much, as i worked with the septic system, that my client was worried: she asked me if i were sick, and i told her that no, i was just sore from a hard workout. (THAT was to come, as i found out). i couldn't wait to get home, so i could take off the shirt as i did my evening chores. Then i got a text from Sir Dean, just about 4pm: "how are your nips feeling?" i answered "they're very tender Sir. i can't wait to get home and out of the shirt." His answer was "who said you could take off your shirt today boy?" i could feel my face getting red. "No one Sir. i apologize for presuming." "Nah. You keep that on until I come home and tell you you CAN take it off." "yes sir." Then he stopped texting. Unlike most people, Sir Dean liked to work late on Friday. i was looking at him coming home no sooner than 8pm. my favorite shirt was driving me crazy. Sir came home at about 8:30. The first thing he did was to come up to me and pinch my nipples through the shirt, so that the velcro rode on them even more. i must have moaned very loud, because i felt Sir Dean's bulge get bigger. He whispered "Get your ass on the bed boy. Face up." Sir Dean had this look on his face. He knew what was going to happen, because he climbed, right on top of me. Readers, however sensitive my nipples felt from that velcro, when Sir lay on top of me and pressed it even closer on me, and began to slide back and forth, i thought i would scream. It didn't help that he was scruffing my neck and ear while he did it, and he was pushing a knee into my crotch. He whispered two things. First, he said "This should teach you boy. You're going to get away with no more than 3 errors per installment, and no more than 10 in five. And for every one more than that: you'll be wearing a shirt like this for a full day." i could only whisper "yes sir. i understand Sir. i apologize for embarrassing you." But then he paused and he whispered something else. i've never forgotten it. "If you think I'm going to let you get away, you're mistaken." i didn't know what that meant because i hadn't tried to escape, and i wasn't planning to, so i just said "yes sir. I understand sir." He stopped scruffing me, and smiled before he kissed me. First, he kissed me like he had been kissing me in the mornings, but then... he drove his tongue into me like he was starving. He finished and said "Thinking of you and my substitute fingers on your nipples have been driving me crazy all day. I'm gonna FUCK you as hard as i can boy." He put his scruff back on my neck, and he began sliding back and forth over my body. i think my squeals were supersonic, but i managed to get out "PLEASE SIR. PLEASE. FUCK ME. FUCK YOUR BOY. FUCK THE BOY WHO ISN'T LEAVING." That night, he did something that Javier used to do, but Sir Dean almost never did. Sir Dean would push my legs in the air, and hold them up when he fucked me. Javier would rest my knees on his shoulders. That's what Sir Dean did that night. It felt different: and better. Better than when Javier did it, and better than the other way Sir Dean fucked me. But i have to say: Sir Dean wasn't exaggerating when he said he was excited. i've always thought that Sir Dean was longer than he was thick. NOT THAT NIGHT, NO SIR. The excitement must have sent more blood to his cock than usual, because until i got used to it, i felt like he was pushing a soda can in me. i moaned, and i screamed, and i tried to keep quiet, but for the first few minutes, it was very very tough. i saw Sir Dean smiling: my reactions were EXACTLY what he wanted. Sir Dean always has something on his mind, and i can see that when he's fucking me. Not tonight. Tonight, i think the only thing that was on his mind: was ME (i got Sir's permission to use that capitalization. He said it was appropriate). He whispered "you are SO FUCKING HOT BOY." and then he pounded me harder. i wanted to be out of the cage so badly at that moment: normally i'm good during sex, but this time, i wanted to beg. i wanted to beg to release so much. But the moment... the moment... i just closed my eyes. i was used to the "soda can " now, and i just wanted to enjoy how it felt. You might think that after a thorough fucking like that, with all that stimulation, Sir Dean's load would have been huge. It wasn't. It wasn't small, mind you, but i was a little bit surprised (on vacation, when i spoke with Sir Peter, he explained to me that sometimes when emotions are high, the orgasm goes down. i guess that's what happened that night. Sir Peter told me that according to Sir Dean, that was the night Sir Dean fell in love with me). After he finished his orgasm, Sir Dean opened my shirt. He took out the velcro strips and said "remember, boy. I can put thm on any shirt... Or.... I can just lay them on your nipples when you're in the chair. CLEAR?" "Yes sir. Very clear. Thank you Sir. Thank you so much." He kissed me on my forehead. "It's late, but let's have some dinner. Did you make that chicken dish roland taught you how to make?" "Yes sir. It's what you asked for, so i made it." After dinner, we sat on the sofa, with me shirtless. Sir Dean toyed with my nips as he began to tell me about our vacation. He thought i was going to love Folsom Street. i'll tell you about that next time. i'll just tell you i did love it. i don't know if i would have without being with Sir Dean, but i loved the whole trip. Thank you for reading. Sir Dean and i both have the same request: if this story bothers you, then don't read it. if you like it, please let us know. we'll be back soon.