girlfriends

“So we might be having a guest next month,” she said casually, under the circumstances. “Actually a new friend who I think will be a fun visitor. No one has stayed in the casita for weeks.”



“And someone who is not a family member, for months,” I said In the spirit of the conversation, if not the moment,. ” Will you tell me more about this ‘new friend,’ or do I have to just wait and see?”



“Some of each,” as she very slowly stroked the hard cock she claimed as hers. With me in that moment of tease and denial, when she has restrained my body and removed my chastity device, my brain’s fantasy center went into overdrive. Did her conscious use of gender free, singular terms, suggest that she intended to fuck someone else? If so, I felt pretty certain it would be another woman. One thing that was an expressed fantasy of mine was for her to bring another woman into the equation.



She was coy when I asked about another woman but her grin gave her away. She had been close enough with a woman before that she knew there had to be no doubt about ‘diving into the pool’ whenever the opportunity and attraction presented themselves. My fantasy seemed to be in harmony with a long-standing desire of hers.



It was very easy to go far off in fantasy-land when the present reality is a delicious, slow, almost tortuous sensation of pleasure that the mind says will not be realized, while HER cock hopes for intercourse. There will be no orgasm for me tonight but she will have several.



Slowly she slid her lubricated thumb and forefinger down opposite sides of her pulsing flesh toy. Just that tiny bit of friction sent waves of arousal throughout my body and I shivered involuntarily. Then a very slow upstroke with the tip of one nail, from the base to a small circle around the foreskin had me straining at my bindings and pushing that stiff firecracker upward as if humping the air would set it off.



I couldn’t help myself. Knowing a small display of self-restraint might result in an opportunity to actually cum, I still was under the control of the smaller brain and it wanted to get off now. So I humped against the tiny amount of slack in my restraints, bringing a smug grin to her face as she again stroked upward with a feather-light touch.



“No, no, none of that. We’ve worked hard to create unimaginable pleasure for you . We just have to build up to the point where you get the real deal, not just some short term momentary relief..”



As she increased both the pace and the pressure of her strokes, putting me on that slow upward curve to complete abandon, she asked, “Are you listening to me. I think having my friend come for a week will be fun for all of us.”



I was panting and squirming to hump the air, when I managed to croak out, “What kind of fun for me?”, with a hint of sarcasm in my voice .



“You know that’s the kind of question and tone that will get you a lot of extra time. Is that what you want now, more time? Do you think you can stand more days of this desperate need?,” she purred as her oil-slick hands lightly rubbed the head of her cock. I knew she could feel me beginning to spasm, so she squeezed tightly with both hands at the base of the throbbing tool, leaving me with only the frustration of a tiny dribble of precum.



Considering that my whole body was shaking from this immediate denial of release, I said, “Geez no. How do I earn less time before I get to cum?”



She smiled, “I’ll tell you more as the plan progresses.”



With that she commenced a series of rapid downward strokes, tightening her fingers as she slipped back up to the swollen head. Her prize appeared, a drop of clear pre-cum. She tightened her hand at the base of her cock and held it there for a moment.



I was panting, groaning, whining and ultimately begging her for some relief. It had been more than two weeks and the cock, ever the optimist, was hoping for intercourse. What I got was the drop of pre-cum pressed to my lips on her extended finger.



“Did you think you were going to cum tonight, sweetie. Bad prediction,” she said as she returned from the dresser with her bowl of ice. Iced, shrunk, caged—who knows how long. “I’m always glad to know I gave you what you really wanted, deep down, more frustration and a taste of cum.”



“This is difficult to figure out,” she said. “I want to keep you happy by feeding you lots of the cum you love, but it makes me so happy to deny your orgasms. I’ll have to think about how to achieve a win/win situation, where you get to feast on cum often but I can still relish the positive impact that your denial has on MY sex life.”



“Since I just gave you so much pleasure, don’t you think it would be nice to return the favor?” She climbed up and swung her leg over my head, giving me a close-up of her beautiful pussy, the object of my strongest attainable desire. As she lowered herself toward my extended tongue, I could see the dampness around her lips. Clearly her power to control my orgasms, in itself, super-charged her desire.



“See how wet I got for you, just from focusing on your needs for awhile. I think you find it more flavorful that way.”



Slowly I licked the length of her slit, arriving at the right spot just as her clit came in range. Alternating sucking her delicious nub with licking those intoxicating lips, I could feel her start to move. I was pleased when I heard a suppressed moan and felt the tips of three fingers begin a little massage on her now engorged clit.



After a few minutes of that, she slid down along my tongue so that it licked right up to her little cherry. “Oh baby,” she said, “do you know how much I’ve enjoyed your rimming lately. I really never knew that could feel so good. Give me some of that with a little penetration.”



I did what she asked and she began to move up and down, forcing my tongue deeper into that sweet spot. I could feel her hand working faster on her clit and then she pushed three fingers into her sopping pussy. In what seemed like seconds, she was shaking and screaming, “Fuck me.”



She collapsed forward along my body, pulling her tasty treats away from my mouth. Turning her head around to look back at me, she asked with a grin, “Was that good for you?”



We both lay still for a few minutes. Her cock had been surging to get hard since the moment she relocked it, but now the pressure diminished slightly. That surge and pressure is a big part of the physical pleasure of being captured in a chastity device. It’s like being perpetually aroused. The cock swells in its tiny prison, filling the limited space, and then continues to try, with nowhere to go. But it is receiving constant touching that may briefly escalate to attention-getting pain. At that point the attempt to grow subsides slightly, allowing the cycle to begin again. My brain repeatedly ignores the certainty of no orgasm because that sensation of arousal convinces my body that I’m also receiving pleasure. Ultimately, the denial of release operates on a more mental level to reinforce the submissiveness that got me here in the first place.



When she rose from the bed, I got to look at her entire body in a state of complete sexual abandon. I felt her cock surge again in its prison. She left me restrained and went to the bathroom.



Walking back into the bedroom, she said, “While we’re both here, why don’t we actually fuck.” She had her favorite strap-on dangling from her hand.



After a long absence, my chastity had returned to our sex lives. We had briefly played with chastity a few times in years past but life always got too busy for her to keep up the constant teasing necessary to sustain my submission and her pleasure. A few months ago, we had moved to a tropical paradise when we both retired early. We bought property, built a house and got legal residency, during which the sex was almost non-existent. Without going into details now, she decided to take control; I lost control; her sex life was hot; mine was too, but constantly frustrating.



Now she kept me locked virtually all of the time. She would remove the cage only when my hands were restrained, knowing that not being able to touch myself was the continuing reminder of my condition and her control over me. In the weeks since locking me up again, she had removed the device to clean and shave me and, on no discernible schedule, to allow me “relief.” That usually consisted of long periods of stroking and stopping until she decided to take me all the way to orgasm.



That decision was happening far less as time passed. We were not living 24/7 whips & chains. In fact, very little of the stereotypical Femdom/BDSM style had crept into our lives at that point. She didn’t need to dress-up to make the point of her dominance—the plastic cage locked almost constantly on HER cock put me right where she wanted me. She never hesitated to remind me that I was getting just what I begged for and, if I couldn’t handle the little things she asked of me, we could stop all the playing around and have her think only of herself.



How could I complain just because I never foresaw in my fantasies where hers might take us, given the opening I had provided? One of the first rules for me was no clothes in or around the house unless someone else was there. Because our ocean-view property was extremely private and we lived in the Tropics, being naked, except for my tiny prison, was not an issue. I had always preferred to be nude at home anyway. This wasn’t the same as hanging loose.



She had played with my asshole, fucked me with her strap-on and tried out butt plugs on me long before any real D/s entered our lives. After she took control, her assault on my ass became increasingly frequent. As that became more and more of my physical contact with her, just the appearance of one of her favorite plugs or anal dildos, caused HER cock to visibly strain to enlarge, a reaction which did not escape her notice.



“I think you’re starting to get more aroused by even the thought of something in your ass than you do from getting to put your little sissy clit inside me,” she said one day, while teasing HER temporarily unlocked cock. As I tried to tell her that wasn’t true, she added, “Say what you will, but the surge I feel in the palm of my hand tells me I’m right.”



Our next conversation about our expected visitor occurred when I was a little less amped up about needing to cum right now. Well actually that feeling never leaves but it is more tolerable when there is no active teasing going on. I was simply tied to the bed with the cage off for a little “truth-telling.”



M. loves to prove my hidden desires and perversions by seeing what topics bring me to erection. Of course she recognizes that under her control, locked or not, my desire to please will engorge her cock when she mentions anything sexual beyond our experience and previously repulsive. Lots of things I had never fantasized about had now become part of her checklist for “satisfying all of your nasty kinks.” She could say, “Because you are so turned on by size and I want to make you happy, we need a much larger strap-on.”



Then, M. said, “My friend Emma is coming in two weeks and she’ll stay about a week.”



Despite my predicament, I just asked, “Who is she?”



“You’ve heard me speak of her often some years ago. She was a professor in Atlanta and we got to know each other at conferences over the years.”



“I don’t think I’ve heard you mention her for a long time.”



“We stayed in email contact. When I went to Florida the last time, she had just gotten in touch with me. I called her and we hung out the night I had to lay-over in Orlando on my way home.”



“We didn’t talk about that then did we?”



“No. I didn’t bring it up because it turned out to be a very special night for me and I couldn’t figure out how to tell you all about it.”



“So what does that mean for her visit? What does she know?”



“You’re not really in a position to be so inquisitive right now are you? And I don’t really have to ask you anything. My cock is so hard right now, I know your little male brain is going crazy with the thought of what it might mean to have two women around you.”



Then she said, “For now, all you need to know is that Emma is a little younger than me, beautiful, and wants to spend time with us in our natural element. Oh,” like an afterthought, “Emma is definitely bi and she is really intrigued by your situation. That you asked for it, she doesn’t get at all. She also assumes that you are insufficiently equipped to satisfy me or most any woman with that cock.”



“Why would she assume that at this point? You know that’s not true.”



“Well, in the pictures, it looks awfully small inside that cage. She could see it is only about 2 inches long.”



“You showed her pictures of me locked up? But you know I’m a grower. Didn’t you tell her I’m actually larger than average?”



M. laughed, “Why would I tell her that? Soon enough she’ll see that her assumption is correct. I mean really; in the past I was deluded about your size but since YOU want that cock to always be tiny, why shouldn’t I and my friends think of it that way too.”



“What are you expecting from Emma’s visit?” I asked. “It seems like there is some pre-conceived eroticism.”



“You’ve figured that out, huh. From the swelling member in my hand, it seems like you are anticipating watching some girl on girl activity. Well, I certainly hope that will be happening, but what you get to see…?”



At that point, she turned her full attention to her cock and began to stroke it from the base to the tip with her fingertips lightly gripping its circumference. As she reached the tip, she pressed and swirled her thumb around the hole. With that, a single stroke caused a huge twitch, and, as she pulled her hand away, a large drop of pre-cum popped out. She ran her index finger softly across the tip and raised it to a few inches from my face, showing me the glistening drop she had retrieved. When she put that finger to my lips, I groaned and licked.



“I guess talking about my friend makes you crave cum. Are you becoming my little cumslut? I remember how eager you were to tongue my pussy the last time you came inside me. It seems that I’m going to need to provide you with more cum just to keep you happy.”



Of course, her swollen cock twitched strongly at that comment, with my brain telling me it meant she intended to produce some more cum right now for me to swallow. I was so horny, that prospect gave me nothing but joy along with an even harder erection. “Because you won’t be ejaculating nearly enough to satisfy your obvious craving, I may be forced to find other sources for you to get your cum fix.” Again, a strong twitch of her cock, and she said, “That’s a pretty positive reaction to the idea of sucking a real cock. Do you want me to make that happen for you baby? You don’t need to answer now; I can tell better how to make you happy by watching you react.”



She pulled her hand away from her cock, watching it jump and strain for more contact, and said, “Another day we’ll have to talk about how to get you all of the cum you desire—or maybe even a little more.”



I wasn’t ready to have that conversation any time soon, especially when I was constantly as horny as I had become, and could not control what I might agree had become my own burning desire.



Emma had arranged to take a commuter flight from the international airport to a small airport closer to where we live. We only had about 45 minute drive to pick her up.



M. spotted Emma in the window of the airplane as it taxied to a stop at the end of the runway. I first saw Emma when she exited the plane. As soon as Emma cleared the flimsy security gate, she and M. rushed into each other’s arms. I stood back a little, giving them a slightly private moment and giving myself an opportunity to take a long look at our visitor. I liked very much what I saw.



M. had not lied when she said that Emma was beautiful. She was just slightly taller than M., with very short dark hair. She had a slender build but I couldn’t tell much more about her body.



Emma was dressed for the tropics, wearing a thin, short, flower print dress, a pair of sandals and a jean jacket for the plane. As I watched the love of my life, my Mistress, embrace her friend, I felt that familiar swelling in my tube, forcing my awareness back to M.’s inaccessible cock. No wonder; as they broke their embrace, I could see that their kiss had been more than the local customary peck on the cheek. Tongues were being pulled back as they disentwined.



Then they turned to me. As M. made the introduction, Emma leaned in for a one-arm upper-body hug with a peck on the cheek. She seemed to know the local custom. What I could tell was she had a slender body and smelled deliciously fresh without artificial scents.



Emma pointed to a duffle-type bag on the baggage cart. I grabbed that. With her shoulder bag, that was all of her luggage.



As we got in the car and started for home, M. remarked, “Looks like you travel light;” to which, Emma replied, “I didn’t think I would need more than a couple of sun dresses and some shorts and tops. You won’t make me wear clothes around your house just because he is home, will you?”



“Don’t be silly. That’s a distinct advantage of keeping him locked—even if you flaunted it, he could only do things to pleasure you while increasing his frustration. If you chose to use him, knowing his true desire is to remain locked and frustrated, you both win. Of course he will never admit to his true desire so he’s lucky to have me, and now you, to help him recognize it.” I realized we had no secrets from our beautiful visitor and the humiliating aspect of that knowledge served only to increase my arousal.



I was driving and M. had given Emma the front passenger seat for our ride home. We would pass through miles of oil palm groves and cross about a dozen small rivers. As we drove, Emma turned sideways on her seat so she could more easily talk with M. in the back. As she did so, from the corner of my eye I caught her short dress slide up her thighs and when she pulled her left leg up under her, her bare crotch was completely exposed.



M. said, “Keep your eyes on the road Mr. Driver. I know what you’re looking at over there.” Then she leaned forward a little between the seats and let out a little gasp. “No wonder he’s transfixed. I see a little bit of heaven.”



At that, Emma spread her thighs a little wider, giving me the swollen surge which was the main sensation I got to experience in the cage. M. giggled a little and said, “You are such a nasty tease—just perfect for us. At this point he will be swelling out the sides of his cage and producing substantial amounts of pre-cum. That’s where I like to keep him as much of the time as possible. It keeps him more than willing to do whatever we want, on only the slightest suggestion of some kind of release.”



Emma said, “I’m sorry to be such a slut, but ever since we started planning this trip, I’ve been in a constant state of arousal. M., are you serious that I can just make love to you, tease the hell out of him, hang around naked, and there’s no price to be paid involving semen?”



M., acting more boldly with a woman than I had ever seen, leaned further forward, reaching across to Emma’s fully exposed lips and gently stroking them, said, “This is the only price of admission—and whatever results from it. As far as he is concerned, I hope you won’t be shy using him for pleasure, but there is no reciprocation. I do want you to help me keep him on edge, but that can be anything from just being naked around the house to joining us as he gets his time out of the cage and lots of slow attention that ends nowhere.”



I moaned. M. pulled her hand back and I could hear little pops as she licked her fingers. Emma said, “So who are you teasing now?”



As we got closer to home, my arousal turned to nervousness. I realized that in a few moments we would be at the front door, where I always had to strip before entering. All of this teasing banter was one thing but I was about to be exposed to a beautiful stranger with nothing on but my tiny plastic prison. And, of course, that humiliating thought turned me on so much that the cage felt more stuffed than ever before. M. had not said a word about whether I was supposed to deviate from our normal routine. I fully expected to be shown off in chastity for the first time. Rationally, that was not something I would have called a desire but knowing it was not my decision made the certainty of full exposure totally stimulating.

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