“Your constant whining and begging to cum is absolutely pathetic,” you chided. “It’s only been a week since your last orgasm, and you’d think it’s been a year with the way you’re going on. This stops today.”

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I was new to the BDSM scene when we met at a club almost a year ago. I was nervous when you approached me and struck up a conversation, but after a couple of drinks we hit things off. I shared with you that while I was successful and domineering at work, I secretly craved a strong woman to control me at home; especially in the bedroom. You were giddy with excitement at the prospect of training a new slave from scratch — it was an opportunity to mold me into exactly the kind submissive you all the time dreamed of. I went home with you that night, and we quickly found ourselves spending almost every day together. After just over a month, I committed myself to being your slave 24/7, and my training began in earnest.

The following months were filled with all sorts of experimentation, negotiation, and sexual exploits. You introduced me to everything from shibari and impact play to feminization and pegging, most of which I quickly learned to enjoy. Your favorite kink, however, turned out to be one that I had a very hard time adjusting to: orgasm control and chastity. You got off on teasing and denying me for weeks at a time. Meanwhile, I became a raging brat when I went more than a couple of days without an orgasm. You were initially very patient with me since I was so new to all of this, but your patience finally wore off.

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“Enough of your antics. No more complaining,” you continued. “Your orgasms belong to me, and you’ll get them when and if I decide. I’m going to slowly work you up to 30 days of denial, and if you complain even once, you’ll be lucky if you ever get to cum again.”

You gave me one last “mercy orgasm” that day to reset my clock, then slowly began increasing the time between each orgasm; first every two days, then every three days, then every four, and so on…

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It was 6:30 AM on a Tuesday, 10 days since my last allowed orgasm, and you were headed off to work as usual. I worked from home and didn’t need to get up for another hour, so I was still laying in bed when you left. Up to this point you hadn’t caged me, choosing instead to trust that I would honor our agreement not to cum without your permission. My attitude after 10 days without an orgasm was far more positive than you expected, however, which made you very suspicious. So, you decided to stay back and investigate.

After pretending to leave for work, you stood silently outside the bedroom door. After a few minutes, you heard me roll over and grab my phone. Then, you heard a rustling noise that you immediately recognized as the tell-tale sound of my hand rubbing against the sheets as I jerked myself off. I picked up the pace, stroking faster and faster as I reached the edge of orgasm. You heard a moan, a deep satisfied sigh, then… silence.

Before I could regain my composure, you stormed into the room to discover exactly what you expected: me lying on my back with a gigantic load semen covering my stomach and chest. Startled, I jumped to my feet, spilling my seed all over the bed and the floor in the process.

“CLEAN THAT UP”, you yelled as you walked into the closet. I busied myself cleaning up and apologized profusely, but my apologies fell on deaf ears. You returned from the closet with a new chastity cage and tossed it at me. “I’m late for work, so I’ll deal with you later. Put this on until further notice.” You watched as I struggled to place the tiny plastic cage over my shaft and secure it to the tight plastic ring behind my balls. You locked it in place with a combination lock and scrambled the numbers.

“You’re going to stay locked up until you complete 3 tasks to earn each of the three numbers on that lock”, you said. “Your first task is simple: Wait 30 days.”

With that, you left for work as I stood dumbfounded in the bedroom. I reached down to touch my cock and felt cold, hard plastic in its place. My cock felt… nothing. I started to panic as the enormity of the first task began to set in. I hadn’t gone 30 days without an orgasm since before I learned to masturbate as a preteen. I tugged at the rigid lock that stood like a vigilant palace guard, blocking me from accessing my own body. I fiddled with the numbers, desperately trying to guess the combination, to no avail. I tried breaking the lock off, but it was too strong. I realized I had no choice but to wait. I was completely at your mercy.

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Over the next 30 days, you made sure I stayed horny constantly. You threw out all of my men’s underwear and replaced them with slutty thong panties, requiring me to wear them and send you pictures. You wore revealing clothes in public and pranced around the house in sexy lingerie, taunting me and laughing at my predicament as my cock strained helplessly behind its new prison. Pegging went from a weekly occurrence to a daily ritual, milking precum from my desperate prostate. You forced me to watch while you fucked yourself with a dildo three times my size, reminding me that I couldn’t even achieve a ordinary erection in my cage. You sexualized every activity you could think of, and by day 30 I was absolutely desperate. Desperate to cum, yes, but also desperate just to feel the warmth of skin against my cock that had been locked away behind hard plastic for the past month.

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On day 30, you woke me up by softly whispering in my ear, “Good boy. Your tiny little cock made it 30 days in its tiny little cage without an orgasm. You earned the first number to the combination: 0. Don’t forget it!” I quickly stirred and wrote down the first number in my phone. I had barely regained consciousness and hoped against hope that I heard it correctly, and I knew better than to ask you to repeat yourself.

“I’ll text you with your next task later today.” And with that, you were gone. My cock responded, testing the limits of its confinement yet again.

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I waited impatiently all day for further instructions, my cock constantly straining and begging for release. At 4p, I finished my last meeting and looked down at my phone to discover a text from you. “Time for your second task: Go fuck yourself.”

I was confused – and a little indignant at the phrasing. “Go fuck yourself”? What the hell was that supposed to mean? I gathered myself and replied calmly, “Can you please elaborate on the task, Madam?”

You took a few minutes to reply. On purpose, no doubt.

“I said go fuck yourself. What are you confused about? I was going to let you get creative with it, but clearly your imagination is as small as your sad excuse for a dick.” Why was this making me hard?

“Fine,” you continued, “I’ll be more prescriptive. Go grab the big black dildo from the closet. You know the one – it’s the nice thick and veiny one that gets me off so quickly. The one that fucks me so much better than you ever could. Record yourself fucking it for 20 minutes. Mouth and ass. I expect at least 3 different positions, and multiple camera angles. And don’t hide your face from the camera. I want to see the exquisite convergence of pain and pleasure on your face as that enormous cock stretches out your tight little asshole and massages your horny prostate. No cumming in your little cage now!”

My mind was racing when you sent me one final text. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot… be sure to wear the costume I put together for you. It’s in the top dresser drawer. Love you, babydoll!”

I looked in the drawer to discover a pink leather collar, black stilettos, nipple clamps, white stockings, a tiny black miniskirt, a long blonde wig, and a tube of red lipstick.

You were having way too much fun tormenting me. But I knew I deserved it, and I was eager to do whatever it took to make it up to you. Besides, my mind was in a horny haze at this point. I would do literally anything you told me to in hopes of earning an orgasm. So I dressed up, made the video, and sent it to you as I was told.

“Good boy”, you replied as soon as you received the video. “Your second number is 3. I’m on my way home, and I’ll give you your final task when I arrive. Be sure to keep your costume on, babydoll.”

I quickly wrote down the second number and waited anxiously for you to come home. I knew I could easily guess the final number now – there were only 10 left – but I didn’t dare free myself and undo all of my hard work.

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As you walked in the door, I heard grunting and moaning coming from the speaker in your phone. You were giggling and smiling from ear to ear as you watched the degrading video I had just sent you.

“Well done, princess”, you said to me. “You rode that big black cock like a good little whore, didn’t you? Such a good girl.”

The nuance of your words didn’t escape me. I had suddenly gone from “good boy” to “good girl”, “princess”, and “whore”. My cock sprang to action inside its cage at the humiliation of you feminizing and teasing me.

“Your final task is to go down on me until I cum. Twice. Now get down here between my legs where you belong and put that pretty red mouth to work, slut.”

For the next hour, I licked your pussy lips and sucked at your clit, still dressed as your bimbo and locked away securely in chastity. You watched the video of me fucking myself over and over while I went down on you, critiquing my performance.

“Put more arch in your back next time.”

“Don’t forget to make eye contact with the camera.”

“You can swallow a cock deeper than that!”

On and on you went with your feedback, giggling as you watched me turn red with embarrassment.

After you had finally cum for the second time, you relaxed, smiled deviously. “That’s a good girl”, you said. “Time for your reward.”

“Your final number is 0,” you announced. “That makes the full combination 0-3-0. It represents the 30 days of chastity you endured. It also represents 30 seconds, which is exactly how long you have to remove your cage and cum, starting… now.”

You immediately started a timer on your phone for 30 seconds while I was still processing the meaning of your words. When it finally registered, the clock was already down to 25 seconds. I hiked up my skirt and quickly fumbled with the lock, trying to navigate the numbers to 0-3-0.

20 seconds. Shit – one of the numbers wasn’t aligned correctly.

15 seconds. The lock finally came loose.

10 seconds. I quickly removed the cap of my cage and didn’t even bother trying to remove the ring around my balls.

5 seconds. I grabbed my cock, already standing at full attention, and stroked it furiously under my skirt, trying desperately to achieve release in the final seconds I had been granted.

4-3-2-1.

“STOP!”, you yelled. You grabbed my hands away from my cock, pulled them behind my back, and placed them in handcuffs. My cock bounced heavily and helplessly in front of me, glistening with pre-cum and just moments away from full release. But release didn’t come – 5 seconds of stimulation simply wasn’t enough, even after 30 days of deprivation.

You grabbed an ice pack and held it against my penis to shrink it back down. You placed the cap of the cage back on my cock, changed the combination, and locked it back in place.

“Ohhhhh soooo close”, you teased. “Oh well, you’ll get another chance after you earn the next 3 numbers to the new combination. Your first task is simple once again: Wait 30 days.”