This hotel is a favorite of ours. We stay here whenever we’re in town, in no small part because the shower is so good. It may sound silly to you, but when you travel as much as we do, a room with some personality is important. The shower here is a big tiled stall, roomy enough for two, with a glass door on one wall, and a tiled bench running across the back. I remembered the last time we were here, she’d sat on that bench and sucked me off, hot water pouring down over both of us. I was hopeful now to re-live that memory.
She was already under the water when I swung the door open and slipped in next to her. I took the bar of soap from her hand, turned her away from me, and began soaping her back. I worked my way down to her ass, knelt down and washed her legs and feet, then stood and slipped a soapy hand between her legs. She pressed against me for a moment, sighed, then turned around, pulling away.
“Not now, Nick,” she said. “Later.”
She smiled and looked at me kindly and took the soap back from me. She washed me, working soap all over me. I luxuriated in the hot water and the feeling of her hands on my skin. Then she sat on the bench and pulled me close, bringing my cock within a hair’s breadth of her mouth. I waited, even though I wanted to take her head in my hands and slide my cock to the back of her throat. She didn’t move though, and she held me in place with her stillness.
She looked up at me. “Remember the last time we stayed here, Nicky?” She said. “Are you thinking about that?”
“I am too,” she said. “That was so nice.” She licked the tip of my cock playfully, then stood up and handed me the soap. She pushed me gently to the side and began rinsing herself under the water. “To bad you’ll have to wait for the encore,” she said, grinning at me.
“Oh god, Kate,” I said, feeling like I was going to break. “I can’t wait…”
She turned away suddenly and snapped off the water, then turned back to me, her face hard, her playful, teasing tone gone. “This is what you call service?” She asked. “You eat my pussy once, and then you spend the rest of the weekend begging me to suck your cock? Is that how you think this is going to work?” She seemed genuinely angry. I felt like I’d misunderstood what we were doing. Our weekend game seemed suddenly not very game-like.
“No, Kate, I…” I started.
“Be quiet,” she said. She was dead serious. She opened the shower door. “Stay here,” she said, wrapping herself in a towel and closing the door. I was, once again, pulled up short by the unexpected turn of events. What’s more, I was cold, standing there in the shower dripping wet. I wanted to turn on the water, but I didn’t know if I had permission. Fuck, permission? What was going on? Should I ask for a time-out? Was this even a game?
Whatever it was, and despite the cold, my dick was still hard. I decided to leave the water off and keep my mouth shut. In any event, she was back soon enough, wrapped in a robe, handing me a towel. “Dry off,” she said.
She sat on the bench, waiting for me to dry myself. She said, “The third kind of service is chastity service.” I caught my breath. She produced a little plastic device, translucent, complicated, somehow penis-shaped. A cage designed to wrap around my cock. “I’m going to put this on your cock and lock it until I want it unlocked. This will allow you to give me chastity service.”
“Fuck, Kate,” I said. “What is chastity service?
“In çorum escort chastity service, you don’t ask me for sex. You don’t ask me to blow you. You don’t ask me for anything. Your dick won’t be able to get hard—there’s no room in the cage for that. So sex for you is off the table—until I put it on the table, do you understand?”
I nodded, genuinely scared.
“Chastity service is unlike cock-ring service and nipple-clamp service—it doesn’t have a time limit.”
“Kate…” I tried.
“You promised me a weekend of service,” she said, “and this is the service I want. So you can back out now, or you can proceed. It’s up to you. But if you proceed, it means I’m putting this on your cock.”
I looked at her. She was sitting there in her robe. Her legs crossed, her hair in a towel. I couldn’t read her expression. A moment ago, she seemed furious. Now, what was that look on her face? It was almost like she was daring me. How brave are you Nick? How far will go with me? How far will you go for me?
I badly wanted to come. I’d waited a week for her, shooting models in Tokyo and actresses in LA. I’d slept alone in king-sized hotel beds and I’d kept my hands off my cock. I’d held her naked body all night last night. I’d licked her to orgasm and washed her from head to toe this morning. I’d waited and I’d served. And yet I wanted more.
“Lock my cock, Kate,” I said.
Just before her face found that stern stern mask again, I clearly saw the tiniest trace of a smile.
Have you ever spent the day walking around a museum with your junk in a cage? Until today, neither had I, my friend, neither had I.
But that’s what I did. She had carefully dried my balls after the shower. “I should shave you,” she’d threatened, but then left it at that and instead worked the device in place. It had taken a long time to fit me into the contraption, as my cock was still fairly hard. The device had a ring that fit behind my balls—she’d squeezed one through, carefully, then the other—and a cage that fit around my cock, curved down, with an opening at the end so, in theory, I could pee while I was wearing it—but only if I was sitting down, I’d discover later. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
When we walked out of the hotel on that warm spring morning, I was certain that everyone in the city could tell my cock was in jail. It took me a little while to figure out how to walk in it—it didn’t interfere much with my walking. It was more that I was concerned it would, and kept trying out different gaits. And while I was doing that, I was certain that my strange motions were attracting the attention of every passerby. But as some point I realized that no-one was paying attention to me, and even less to my poor forsaken cock. I allowed myself a moment of self-pity, honestly. My cock was out of reach, Kate didn’t want it—she’d locked it away!—and no-one was even thinking about my poor fucking cock at all.
Such is the state of manhood in America today, I thought, grumpy.
Then Kate took my hand and I looked over at her, catching her eye briefly before she turned back to regard the city. The sun was shining in her golden hair. A small, contented smile played across her face. Light sparkled across her sunglasses. I was glad to be in her company. Enjoy this, I had said to myself. It should be enough for you.
And for a few moments, it was.
But all morning long, it felt like Kate was testing çukurambar escort me. We’d walked through the tourists to the Art Institute, where there was a show that Kate wanted to see. We walked through the galleries, whispering and holding hands and talking about the art. I’d linger over some painting, and she’d wander off, then slip up behind me unexpectedly and wrap her arms around my belly. She’d kiss my neck when we sat on a bench resting our feet. She’d hold one finger on my hand, stroking it obscenely, like she was daring me to break and express my hunger. But I was determined to hold out, to put my needs on hold. To serve, whatever that meant. It was a powerful mindfuck, to suppress myself this way. I felt like I was swimming in a sea of sex. Every painting took on an erotic undertone. Every drawing felt charged. Every touch of her hand shot through me to my core.
By lunchtime, I was exhausted, and she was walked out, so we grabbed a cab to take us to lunch. We settled into the back seat, glad to be off our feet. Kate took my hand again and leaned in to me. “That was nice,” she said. She set our hands down in my lap, where they lay resting against my caged cock. She knew what she was doing, I suppose, but she was playing innocent. She had to know that my cock was straining against the cage, trying to swell, but losing the battle, painfully. I did not want to show defeat though. Instead, I lifted her hand away from my crotch, turned it over, and began rubbing her hand. Not about me, I thought. About her. About her. She sighed and settled in to her palm massage. “After lunch,” she said, “let’s go back to the room.” Despite my best efforts, my cock strained even harder inside it’s very, very restrictive new home.
“Nicky,” she said, entering our room, “take your clothes off and show me your service, I mean your chastity cage.” She giggled. We’d managed a whole bottle of Italian red at lunch.
All through lunch she had found occasions to touch me, tease me, tempt me. We’d had a table in the back of a little white linen Italian place, in a dark corner where we sat close, on adjacent sides of the table, and her hand kept finding its way to my knee. Over coffee, just as the waiter was bringing the check, she leaned into my ear and said, “I’m feeling an urgent need again, Nicky.” I think the waiter caught the moment, but was too polite to say anything.
In the hotel room, I stripped as ordered. She kept her clothes on. “Nick,” she said, “You did a good job this morning.” She stood in the middle of the room for a moment, considering. Then she pointed at the armchair in the corner. “Sit,” she said.
I did as I was told, sat naked in the chair, my cock straining at the cage, wondering what was coming next. She stood still in the middle of the room, looking around, when we both heard the sound of a vacuum cleaner in the hallway outside our room. Housekeeping. Kate said, “Go put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door. Quickly! Then back to your chair.”
Naked, I crossed the room, working out how exactly I was going to obey her command and keep from exposing my extremely humiliating condition to whomever was working in the hallway. I stood, momentarily frozen behind the door. “Now!” Kate hissed. Somehow, I managed the task, and was back in my chair a moment later.
Kate had resumed her calm demeanor. “Thank you Nick,” she said. She held the moment a beat, looking at me. Then she ankara escort turned and walked to the bed. “I had a lovely time this morning, and I appreciate how… good you’ve been today.” She sat down on the bed and started to undress, very matter of fact, not putting on a show at all, just… getting naked. I was hopeful, but I knew enough by now to keep my mouth shut.
“You’re very sexy sitting there all locked up for me, you know.” It wasn’t a question.
“You like it?” I asked.
“I do,” she said. “It turns me on. I know how much you want to come, dear Nicky, and you haven’t said a word all day, at least, not since I locked you up.” She smiled at me. I blushed. “You’re so flustered. It’s just delightful.”
“I’m glad to oblige,” I said.
She was down to her underwear, a white silk camisole and matching shorts. She slid a hand into her underwear and said, “Yes, it turns me on so much,” she said, her fingers beginning to work under her shorts. She lay back on the bed—I could no longer see her face from where I sat. Her legs were spread in front of me. She slid back on the bed, bringing her feet up, her knees in the air. I could see her hand moving, circling. Her pussy hidden from view behind the shiny white fabric. She moaned. “I’m going to make myself come now, Nicky,” she said. “And if you’re very quiet and don’t move at all, I’ll let you watch me.” She propped herself up on one elbow, other hand still at her pussy, and looked at me for a moment, then asked, “Would you like that, Nicky? Would you like to watch me?”
Would I like that? I wanted to tell her that it was all I could do to keep from leaping across the room and taking her. Burying my head between her legs and kissing her until she screamed out. To take her clit between my lips and suck till she came—but I didn’t dare. I wasn’t supposed to ask. “I’d like that very much,” I managed to choke out.
She held my eye and said, “Then not a sound.”
And I did like it. She let her head fall back. Her hand resumed it’s work. Her other hand found her breast. I could see the wetness beginning to form where her fingers were working.
“Oh, god, Nick,” she said. “I bet your dick is getting so hard over there watching me touch myself.” Hard was not the word for what I was experiencing. “I bet that cage, god, tonight at dinner I want you to tell me what it feels like to try to get hard in that cage…” Oh, god, was she going to make me wear this through dinner?
“Oh god, Nick…” she cried, “Oh god…” her hand was moving faster and faster. She moved her other hand away from her breast, pulled her panties aside—god she was dripping—and thrust a finger inside herself. One, then two. In and out, and “Oh GOD Nicky!” she cried out, so loud I thought of the housekeeper in the hall.
“I’m comingggg…” and her body shook, wracked by shudders, contractions, shakes. She pressed her legs together, trapping her hands in her crotch. “Oh god, Nicky, get over here and hold me!”
I was across the room in a flash. I pulled back the covers of the bed, scooped her up and gently put her in. I climbed in next to her, pulled the covers over us both and wrapped myself around her.
“Oh god, Nick, that was so good,” she said, kissing me, still breathing heavily. I returned her kiss, tentatively, not sure where this was going. We made out gently, slowly. I held her face. I took my cues from her. I wanted to ravish her, but I was still locked up, and I knew better than to ask. After a moment she reached down, took by cock and balls and cage in her hand, feeling, weighing. She giggled. “Too bad for you,” she said, and rolled over, pressing her ass onto my incarcerated cock.
“Hold me while I nap, Nicky,” she sighed. “Hold me.”