It's one o clock on the morning, and I'm just now getting to sleep. As should be expected from a 19-year old guy who's been stimulated but denied orgasm for a fornight, my thoughts turn to sex. The knowledge that my cock will soon be straining unsuccessfully against the cage goads me on, the sensation being mildly discomforting. The thought provokes yet more torrents of submissive feeling, as I am acutely aware of his control over me, my sexuality, my cock, which only gives my member yet more momentum toward its constriction. It hits just that, and I grit my teeth as a wave of frustration sweeps over me. I figure I should do my best to enjoy it, since it's not going away any time soon: even as the cage restricts the growth, its stimulation also makes losing a boner difficult.
30 minutes later, the mild discomfort has turned to something quite else, and I long , if not for release, at least for my libido to shut the hell up so I can get some sleep! Miraculously, it does so, at least partially, and I begin to relax. But, of course, as horny as I am from the past few weeks, any sexual thought is enough to stimulate me, and sure enough, my deflating cock turns my attention to that area, enough to remind me of my cage, the fact that it's completely owned by Master. "Fuck, again!?" part of me thinks; the other is eager to begin the cycle anew. Not that the former has any say; soon enough my cock is once more straining against that vicious metal contraption. Even as my libido begins to wane a bit later, that latter part of me once more wishes to feel the torment of frustration, and conjures yet more thoughts to my arousal, over the protestation of the part of me that just wants to get some fucking sleep. Being, at least partially, the instrument of your own torment is an interesting experience.
Lather, rinse, repeat for the next two hours.
All of which is to say I haven't had this much fun all summer.
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3 comments:
That is intense, I got more than a little turned on reading that. I have similar issues, I tend to like duct taping a cup to myself for days at a time, similar effects just more work and it probably hurts less to get a cage off, C'est la vie.
Richard, Who is of course me, Theocritus. =D
Now I feel old. I was only fantasizing about such things at your age. I'm happy to say that my fantasies are becoming more real with each passing year, but it is a painful struggle and I don't think it should be.
Then again, I also like to believe that my work empowers younger people to have the capability of experiencing a healthy sexuality. In this way, blaming myself for your experience is both rewarding and arrogant. :)
I hope you've continued to have this much fun. Fun is, after all, a lifesaver—literally.
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