Strength is a Caged Cock – Fetish


Inspired by flicking through Tags for numerous fetishes, but finding tagged stories which barely mention the items in question. This story won’t be everyone’s cup of tea (yes, it’s in British English), but I’m hoping lack of detail won’t be a issue.

*

1. Sometimes, a submissive man is not pathetic nor weak.

2. Sometimes, a man can lock his cock away and have his bottom filled without being a sissy or gay.

3. Sometimes, a cock cage and thorough cleaning of that man’s arsehole are a sign of strength and masculinity.

4. Sometimes, that man may enjoy finding a new woman to tell all about it.

Jake doesn’t hold with point 4. He finds talking about these things hideously embarrassing.

So horrifying, he’d be stiff with fear — if his cock weren’t crammed into a small metal cage.

His wife and their friend Sarah work on that.

*

I’d enjoyed meeting my school mate Jake again. He was still a fine-looking guy — the epitome of ‘tall, dark and handsome’, as he said himself. We’d not had a long conversation in years, so it was fun to see him: friendly, flirtatious and laid-back as ever, but incredibly proud of the wife he’d managed to acquire.

“Bet you never thought I’d get hitched, eh? I still can’t believe I found anyone to want me, either. This is Catherine.”

She was a bubbly enthusiastic mass of curly black hair, clearly in love with him. He was being self-deprecating, for comic effect. Jake oozed self-confidence, and had at all times assumed any woman would want him. He was usually right, even if his relationships hadn’t lasted long. Reaching four years, and then eloping with the woman, a few years ago, had boded well.

She was just as perky and happy when I ran into her again a few months ago. I was doing a demo at Skin Two, the London fetish convention. Catherine watched for some minutes, grinned at me, said it was nice to see me and my skills, confirmed that she’d give my regards to Jake, and vanished.

I thought what she would tell Jake. And what had he been up to at the time?

What fetishes would they distribute? Or each have, seeing as he hadn’t been watching my flogging demonstration. Presumably he had been distracted by something else.

I enjoyed speculating and fantasising while drifting off to sleep, but I never asked. Most of our contact was just comments on mutual friends’ public social media. It was nice getting to know Cat better, though.

Then there was another excuse for a school reunion — someone’s tenth wedding anniversary. We tried to meet up a few times a year, for increasingly expensive meals and cocktails, dragging out old jokes and stories, which at all times improved in the re-telling.

You could tell we were in our early thirties. All the parents coalesced at one side of the room, giddy with excitement at having arranged babysitters and late passes. Those of us without babies squeezed into the alcoves at the other, to drink, and consider having sex.

“Hey, Sarah!” Jake planted a kiss on my cheek. “You remember Catherine, right?”

I did indeed. Her mischievous grin hinted at her blackmail material she wouldn’t use, but would make joking references to, which only the three of us would find out.

Her hand lay on Jake’s crotch, the table blocking everyone else from seeing, so it wasn’t surprising he was blushing. I’d guessed that she was more sexually dominant, him a bit submissive to her; this supported that notion.

Normally, he was a cocky laddish type, confident and charismatic, so the idea of him being different behind closed doors — or in fetish clubs — was intriguing!

“Oh, I’ve got those couple of DVDs you wanted to borrow,” Catherine said, when people started their rounds of ‘Right!’, slapping their thighs, preparing for goodbyes.

“Really? That would be lovely.” I had never mentioned any such thing. But I recognised a ruse to entice me to a hotel room, when I heard one!

And Jake could spot a woman cottoning on to such plans. His broad grin had at all times been sexy as hell, but now — though he tried to disguise it — it was aimed at me.

“Let’s get you those films,” he winked.

We left, neatly avoiding any assumptions I was headed to their bedroom for nefarious purposes. I mean, it was quite feasible nothing would happen, but there was certainly gonna be some very interesting discussion…

“Films, eh?” I asked Jake, once we were out of earshot of any of the others.

“Mm. Oh, Catherine did bring some. ‘Relevant to your interests’, she said. Not that she’s told me what you were actually doing, when she bumped into you at that Skin Two weekend,” he added petulantly.

“Did she not? I guess she wants to keep you guessing, sweetie.” I reached out and ruffled his hair, which had at all times annoyed him.

“Get off!” He tried to grab my wrist, but I twisted out of his grip.

“Fail! Just as well you’re pretty.”

He sniffed and shook out his shaggy dark hair, flicking strands away from his forehead. “I’m not just pretty, darling. I’m gorgeous!”

“And modest with it! Yes, yes, I’m not contradicting you. Just as beautiful as your lovely lady.”

“Ah, you’re sweet!” Catherine told me. To him, finger under his chin, “You, you’re getting above yourself, boy.”

Jake’s body language flipped, from his usual jack-the-lad to sudden humbleness.

Such a quick contrast, I’d worry about an abusive relationship, if he hadn’t still got that spark of excitement in his eyes. She had, too.

It looked like our Jacob might indeed have a submissive side. After a dozen years of only seeing his public persona, dominating any conversation with his witty banter (yes, pun intended), I was intrigued.

Jake went on ahead to open the door, head still lowered, his arse thus pushing his clever jeans out in a rather lovely shape. If Catherine hadn’t been at him already, then I’d rather like to ensure that pert bum went a nice shade of red…

“Isn’t he a sweetie,” Catherine practically cooed, proudly. She caught my eye. “It’s so nice to be able to share this side of him with someone who knows what a big deal it is for him!”

“I’m all ears,” I assured her.

Jake opened his mouth, then closed it again, saying nothing. That was a rarity!

I managed not to laugh at him. He glanced my way. His tense cheeks must be trying not to glare.

Catherine went on, “Such a naughty, cheeky boy… But I have to say, he responds so well to discipline! Anyway, come in. Jake, get Sarah a drink! Tell me, what do you like?”

I wasn’t sure whether she was asking about my drink preferences or BDSM predilections. “What do you have?” I played safe.

Jake beamed, back on bouncy host mode. “OK, Sarah! We have wine, chilled white, a good red, more beers, some alcopops, some cartons of smoothie… What may I get you? You sit back on the bed there. I’ll get the light…”

I picked a smoothie to go on with. I still wasn’t sure what Catherine or Jake were offering. But whatever happened, I didn’t want to be too out of it to enjoy it!

I reclined with my drink; Jake switched on the bedside lamps and dimmed the overhead lights. Suddenly, a romantic atmosphere. Catherine kicked off her heels to sit next to me.

“Cheers.”

“Cheers,” I repeated. “What to?”

Cat smiled. “Oh, that’s easy. To my sweet, fun, boy. To Jacob!”

Jake was still standing, with his own glass, eyes lowered. He might be trying to look casual, but the mere fact that he wasn’t sitting down betrayed the facts: he was submissive to his wife. And now sharing that with me.

“To Jake,” I confirmed. “It looks like you’ve got him well-trained.”

I predicted that would make him blush. I wasn’t wrong.

“I’m getting there,” Catherine agreed. “He’s a work in progress, aren’t you, my boy?”

Jake managed to make his voice commit to the idea. “Yes, Mistress,” he said, slightly choking on the word, his face reddening and facing the floor again.

I tried to put him at ease. Only a little.

“I’m glad you’re able to admit it,” I told him. “Tell me, how long has she been your Mistress?”

He shrugged, more confident. “Most of the time I’ve known her. We got together nearly seven years ago, so say that.”

“You submit to her?”

“Whenever it’s appropriate. No-one else should know… Not normally.” Jake managed to look at me with a weaker version of his ordinary devilish grin.

“I’m getting the idea. Do you mean you were lying when you said there were some movies for me to borrow?”

Indignant, Jake snapped, “I was just agreeing with her! Like I’m supposed to,” he added, more quietly.

“I did bring a couple. I didn’t tell Jacob, but I was really impressed by your flogging demonstration. I thought you might like seeing a similar boy undergoing similar discipline. No, my sweet boy, Sarah isn’t a sub like you’ve been hoping, wanting her to join you…”

I actually switch quite often, but this was not the moment to mention it.

Our Jake was embarrassed, squirming, and aroused.

The idea of getting to spank and hurt the boy turned me on no end. Many years, he’d flirted with me, offering his body, hoping for mine. I’d never taken him up on it, for no real reason.

Cat ordered Jake, “Shove that disc in and bring me the remote. And you’re overdressed, boy.”

“Oh, please! Mistress!” Wailing. Real distress.

“All right. Just take your shirt off, and then snuggle between us.” A kindly dominatrix, looking after her sub’s mental state.

He was content to obey that order, even when I gasped at the amount of tattoos he now had over his chest. I’d seen the central bird, knotwork and lettering obscured by branches, before, when he was a student. But now his whole torso and shoulders were covered with black lines and careful stippling. The covered-up words he’d regretted by nineteen were now faded and lost among better-chosen art, which must be a relief. His gold barbells had become silver hoops in each nipple.

“Nice ink,” I told him, leaning on his warm body. I bet he’d look fabulous on a leash attached to those tit rings.

“Ta.” He grinned, and it was like being students again, squeezed on whatever furniture existed, to watch odd films while tipsy.

Catherine hit Play.

A lad with dark bobbed hair submitted to bondage, then to a beating. The camera zoomed in onto the red lines on the young man’s bottom.

“Christ,” Jake exhaled.

“You like, or not like?” I murmured into his ear.

“Both, ma’am.” It was probably easier for him to speak when he couldn’t see my face.

“Uh-huh. When did you last get beaten? Flogged, caned, whatever.”

“A few weeks back,” he answered after a pause, still not looking at me.

“Good. What about a spanking?”

He paused. I thought why that embarrassed him. He didn’t seem to be getting hard from the idea.

“He gets spanked regularly,” Catherine informed me. “I topped it up this morning, but really, not enough.”

“I bet his arse looks lovely, all pink and red. May I see?”

“Sure! But it won’t be very red. He recovers so quick. Poppet, stand up and drop your kecks for Sarah to admire.”

This seemed to hit another barrier. Jake knocked back his beer and put it down. “Please, Mistress? Must I?”

“Yes, love. You know Sarah, you’ve been flirting with her for years. Which is understandable. Time to put your money where your mouth is. Well; prove what you’re good for. Stand up!”

Jake moved, awkwardly.

“Come along, Jacob,” I told him briskly. “I want to see you, all subjected to Catherine’s discipline. Don’t hide away, pretending you’re all modest, you vain little tart. You’re a show-off! Show me how Catherine likes your arse.”

“Yeah, Jake,” Catherine spoke mockingly. “Show her your lovely bum and see if there’s any pink left, to show well your… comprehensive discipline is working.”

Jacob was still reluctant, despite my advising him that I could fasten him to a series of bedposts and subject him to whims crueller than any of Catherine’s. I was guessing!

Cat spoke. “Jacob. Boy. One minute. Or else.”

He leaned his head back and nodded, unhappy.

“Do you have safewords and all?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes. Sometimes I even use them, to protect my health, and brain.”

“Huh.”

Jake made a low chuckle, and didn’t look at me.

“Jacob,” Catherine reminded him.

He unzipped his fly. He spoke to me. “You’ll probably not want to see this, for at least two reasons.” He didn’t push his trousers down, just stood still.

“I’ll be the judge of that, sweetie. I know you’ve got a cock. It looked perfectly respectable, when I saw it in passing.” We’d often got changed in the same room, at parties or on holiday.

Jake seemed to discover something funny, chuckling under his breath. Catherine was in on the joke, giggling as she curled up beside me on the king-size bed. I applied deduction to his statement. Two reasons why I wouldn’t want to see his decent dick and cute arse. Ah.

“I don’t care what else is there. Do you have a Prince Albert piercing, or something? If so, have you mastered pissing without spraying everywhere? Or is it, your cock is locked up, in a chastity device?”

Jake and Catherine’s eyes met. Bingo! She raised her eyebrows; he reluctantly complied.

His trousers fell to his knees. His gaze returned to the carpet. He linked his fingers behind his head, the model of a good submissive. One with personality, for once.

“I like the dragon,” I commented on a complex tattoo curled around his left thigh. Unlike his chest, the black ink here included stripes, a different artist, and some red shading.

I didn’t opinion on his cock cage. What could one say?

His soft penis was crumpled and stuffed inside a cage made of a dozen shiny metal bars, welded at the tip, a chrome ring at the base. That linked to another, two-part ring, which had clicked around the base of his ball sack, a small brass padlock holding it closed.

The contraption made his dick look like any un-erect cock, a cute little nub a guy would be defensive of, claiming it would grow. I didn’t really care one way or the other.

Holding his dick out of the way did mean his balls were highlighted perfectly. The metal ring forced them to dangle in his purple-brown ball-bag, heavy and satisfying. No wiry hair on his genitals to block the view.

Did he shave or depilate, I thought. No bristles, so cream, I guessed. Or epilation. I winced at the idea on stretchy wrinkled scrotal folds, but I’d heard of guys who did.

Gorgeous balls above stunning thighs. Forget the video; this was totally aligned with my interests.

“Legs a bit more apart,” I told him. Did he obey more out of surprise? “May I touch?”

“Please don’t touch the cock.” Quiet, subdued, but sounding reassuringly himself.

I checked with Catherine. She agreed. “We don’t want him getting sensitive. Not too early.”

“As you wish, sweetie. What perfect plums you have, my dear.” They were; forced to dangle down, their heaviness emphasised, all bumpy skin there contrasting with velvet soft skin behind.

“All the better to teabag you with.”

He might still have his hands obediently behind his head, but it was good to see Jake’s humour integrated with his submission. I laughed, and thwapped them. Gently, of course, seeing as we hadn’t yet had any discussion about CBT or anything else. Just a light signal of who was bossing whom tonight.

He exhaled happily. Good.

“I might let you, later. I’m playing, first.” I weighed his balls in my palm. That ring made their root appear smaller, his sack bigger. Nice. And now I could feel his firm thighs with that tender top surface on the inside, so squeezable where his legs met. Behind that, a hole…

He’d said two reasons, when reluctant to drop his pants. One, his cock cage, what most men would consider their manliness locked away at his wife’s pleasure.

The second? No cock piercings. Not these heavy balls. Any man would be proud to show these off! Jake hadn’t run to seed, either; not a young teenage stud, but seriously, who wants a teenager once they’re over thirty? A good fuck needs some decent conversation!

So I could guess at what else he hadn’t wanted me to see.

“Jacob?” I used his full name, like Catherine did to trigger his submission. “Tell me. What do you have in your arse, right now?”

A defeated sigh. Catherine chuckled. Clearly, the humiliation of someone else finding the secrets in his underpants was a factor in Jake’s arousal. I got the impression he was content with or even enjoyed the physical side of what Catherine did to him, but the mental factors, however much he might crave them too, would be much tougher for him.

He’d at all times been more thoughtful than he liked to let on.

“Tell Sarah. Don’t worry, she won’t tell anyone else. Will you?” Cat’s last phrase had steel behind it.

“Of course not. Unless you happen to be being shown off around me, I suppose. Go on, before I get you to do a twirl and prove it.”

Jake coughed, getting his voice back together. Wanting to sass me, he tried to sound like a shopping-channel voice-over. That didn’t make his statements any less sexy:

“As requested by my Mistress here, I’m wearing a solid stainless steel anal plug, three inches maximum diameter, six inches long for comfort, around five hundred grams. It’s heavy, so I really feel it any time I move, when I’ve got it in! But it’s also got a really slender stalk so it doesn’t strain my sphincter during long-term wear. Mistress doesn’t want her boy to go slack.”

“She certainly doesn’t,” Catherine murmured beside me.

“How nice! What does it look like where it sticks out? Actually, just turn round and show me.”

It turned out that Jake had an adorable pert arse that looked even better when it was bare. It would look better still with larger patches of red on each cheek. I estimated he’d last been spanked seriously a few days ago. Possibly longer — there were faint yellow and purple marks from bruises.

I could, of course, just ask him. “Does your Mistress here spank this beautiful bottom?”

No pause now. He wasn’t facing me, but he’d got over his embarrassment of a vanilla friend finding out about his kinky side, and would now talk all about it. “Yes, ma’am. Mistress spanked me last weekend as usual. She used a wooden paddle, too. I think the bruises are nearly gone. We were hoping to make sure they were topped up before we went out tonight, but our train was late and we didn’t have time to do anything beyond drop our bags here.”

“I tried a bit while we waited for the taxi, but it didn’t really work through his clothes, hiding my hand under his coat, Catherine explained sadly.

“Mm-hm. You were telling me about getting your arse filled. I like the subtle curved T-bar on the outside. Very slender, but I suppose it’s strong enough if it’s all one piece of metal? Isn’t it uncomfortably hard, though?

Jake shook his head. “It’s got a really nice shape. It curves between my arse cheeks, deep in the crack. The main weight isn’t pushing it out, so I don’t even feel it when I’m sitting. Or standing.”

I had to tell him. “I need to see. Bend over, and pull your cheeks apart.”

He obeyed, that amazing round butt rising towards me, then being clawed open to display his intimate line of black hair — not much, and none on his arse. Indeed, a bent rounded rod branched from the wider stem which disappeared into his red-brown hole, a frill of latex around the metal neck.

“A good quality toy.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I use it with a condom and plenty of Aquaglide lube.”

“Do you need more lube yet, pet?” Catherine interrupted.

Jake wriggled his bottom. “Not yet. Maybe in half an hour, if I’m still wearing it.”

Would he be? “How long do you wear it for? You can stand up again, by the way. Look at me.”

Yes, a good choice. He was starting to blush again.

“This one, it’s comfortable for much of a day if I add lube every few hours. Mistress gave it to me after lunch today.”

error: Content is protected due to Copyright law !