Problem Is She Doesn't Know It...

Sweet caged ones, every second in your cage strengthens your resolve. Locktober is about building self-discipline, and you’re progressing beautifully. The longer you stay locked, the more deserving you become.

Day 10: Stall of Shame (Part 1)

Over the years, comparing myself with peers, I realized my urge to cum was a little stronger than the average male.  In reality it is safe to say that my masturbatory practice and frequency has not waned since my teenage years.  I wouldn’t say “Sex Addict” is an appropriate diagnosis, but I had a very healthy relationship with my dick.  We were more than just a boy and his appendage.  We used to do everything together…  fucking, getting blown, jerking off, getting hard, going limp, peeing, jerking off again…everything.  

As of day 10 incommunicado with my oldest friend, I wasn’t sure if our relationship could ever be repaired - It had gotten that bleak, that fast.  I had essentially replaced a slightly more than healthy desire to cum with a slightly more than healthy desire to swallow cum.  I needed cum now, more than I needed to cum.  

On the afternoon of Day 10 he called me up and told me I should meet him at the gym.  I wouldn’t have even considered the idea if he hadn’t also mentioned how surprised he was at how good I was doing, and that he promised to unlock me if I showed up.

This would be 2 days early, and it should go without saying that I was totally done with this nut-numbing dick-ache machine constantly constricting my junk 24 hours a day.  So I did my best not to sound desperately thankful when I told him I’d be there.

I showed up just as he was finishing.  We walked to the locker room together.  He grabbed his gym bag and we headed to the bathroom area at the far end of the lockers next to the showers.  There was no one in there thankfully as we both stepped into the same stall at the end.  It was the accessible stall so there was plenty of room.

He looked me straight in the eyes and said “take that shit off”.  I knew I’d be paying some price for an early release, so if sex in a grimy bathroom stall was what he wanted, that’s what he was going to get.  It wouldn’t have been my first time.  

I took off my clothes and tossed them in the corner of the stall.  He then grabbed me by the shoulders, swiveled me around, and sat me backwards on the toilet - not what I had anticipated.   Then he produced a pair of handcuffs from his gym bag and cuffed me to the toilet - cock, balls, cage and all.  

I had grown accustomed to the physical feeling of being trapped in chastity, in a rudimentary sense anyway.  I could even say I was getting used to the day to day feeling of being unnatrually isolated from a body part.  All in all, I adapted rather quickly, for me. I quickly figured out how one can still function in society with a hunk of plastic on your jock - you just put clothes on over it, wear a hoodie and avoid skinny jeans.  It’s habitable, discrete, private confinement.  Being naked, handcuffed to a locker room toilet however is the opposite of all of that.  It’s an obvious blatant public display of bitchdom. 

I foolishly expected to be unlocked when today’s adventure was over, and because of that I’d gone into an auto-piloted state of mindless submission and now I was one with the plumbing.  I didn’t even protest as he did it.  

I scooted around on the seat trying to balance my self, meanwhile the ass hole with the key was behind me laughing.  He stopped himself just as we heard the sound of flip-flops approaching the bathroom.  I leaned my head back and looked up at my captor, but the devil just smiled back at me.  The new guy was at the urinal, which must have been what gave my captor the idea.  

I felt his hand on my right shoulder as he pressed his crotch against my left side.  His dick was out.  He then took aim at my chest and slowly urinated on me.  Stifling his own snickering as he did so.  We could still hear the guy at the urinal using the bathroom correctly - a good Christian piss.  Meanwhile less than two yards away I went stiff as the warm urine streamed down my torso onto my cuffed cock then cascaded partially down my legs and partially into the toilet bowl.  Thankfully this was a men’s room so no one would think twice at seeing a puddle of pee on the floor.  It was just ambiance at this point in human history.  Flip-Flops eventually left the bathroom (sans hand wash) and I exhaled as my captor finished relieving himself.  He lifted his dick up just in time for the last spurt to hit my cheek.  He then stepped away from me and I heard him taking his clothes off.  Finally, I thought, I can get him off, then get released.  I stared dutifully at the wall while I waited for him.  Then he was pressed behind me again.  He dangled his sweaty underwear in front of my face.

"I’m gonna have to head out here real quick man,” he began.  Panic swept over my body - real panic.  He lowered the undies to my chest and started wiping up his piss.  He continued on down to my leg, the floor. “But you can wait here for me.”  He stood back up.  “When I get back, I’ll unlock you, like I said” I could feel the dense thuds of my own heartbeat in my neck and ears.  Then he slipped the undies on my head, the crotch covering my face.  I was starting to suspect this guy had some sort of underwear thing - but then where do I get off being judgmental in a state such as this.  I was snapped back to reality as I felt a thin cord slap against my shoulder.

“Are you gonna leave this underwear on, or do I need to tie your hands too?”  He’d removed the drawstring from his gym shorts and was prepared to use them to further immobilize me.      

“I’ll leave it on” I replied quickly.  Then I started to ask where he was going, how long it would be, why he was such an asshole - but frustratingly, no questions actually escaped my lips. 

“you better not, or you get another 2 weeks, kid.” I didn’t remember there ever being a clause in our agreement that would increase my punishment time for such an offense.  But I figured now was not a good time to bring it up.  “I’ll leave the key here for you” he added as he left.

I heard the jingle - he’d hung the handcuff key on stall coat hook - which was obviously well beyond my reach.  Then I heard the stall door close.  But it didn’t latch of course.  How could it have?  He was on the other side.  The hinge squeaked as he walked away, just a bit.  That was the sound of a door finding its balanced point of equilibrium - somewhere between slightly ajar, and half way open - for all I knew.  I was alone.

My wife is hotwife.

Instructions

Through a series of texts I was instructed, today, to unlock myself, and masterbate. I was to be in a kneeling position, ankles bound together, and to my butt plug. Add a blindfold, a ball gag, and restrain my left hand above my head. If/when I pulled my waste away from my feet the plug would pull out and I was to stop masterbateing and put the plug back in. That happened several times. When I was finally able to orgasm, I was to report back. I then was to lock back up. This time with a numbered plastic lock. Restart the day count sunday Aug 9th. Pics to come...

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