Cucked, Caged and Conquered: Part Six (Patreon)

You were probably feeling a little unsatisfied and disappointed by the size of my last post. But I'm hoping to leave you more satisfied this time, as you're about to be stuffed full of something bigger. Just like Travis when he decided to make his husband a cuckold. 

Hope you enjoy it. As always, feel free to let me know what you think.

I’d thought he was joking. But a couple of nights later, out of the blue he asked me, “Have you heard of chastity cages?”

I looked up from my phone, a little thrown by the unexpected question. “Um, what?”

“Cock cages.”

For an instant I thought maybe he’d seen my search history. I never used to be interested in that kind of thing; I’d never been very into anything kinky before, especially anything that required anything that required special equipment. It had all seemed like a bit much. But ever since things had changed with Travis I’d found myself a little more intrigued by the idea than before, and each time I’d come across a photo of a guy with his cock locked away in a cage when I’d been scrolling through porn on my phone, I’d found myself lingering on it longer than usual. Before long I’d found myself looking it up, seeking it out. There was something about the idea of being emasculated that way — this uncomfortable, humiliating reminder that your cock wasn’t there to be used anymore — that gave me that familiar tingle in my junk when I imagined what it would be like to have one of those devices on myself.

It was so embarrassing to admit I’d even thought about it though. So I did my best attempt at feigning innocence. “Not really… You mean those things guys put on their dicks? I’ve seen them before but I don’t really get it. Why’s that?”

“I was thinking,” he said, “about how we need to stop you being able to cum so you can enjoy yourself when I’m cucking you.”

When I’m cucking you. I’d never heard him put it like that before. I hadn’t even realised that’s what this was. I almost reacted, almost told him off for presuming that that’s what he was doing. I’m just letting him have his freedom, I thought. Letting him meet the needs that I can’t help him meet.

But if it was just that, why was I getting off on it so intensely?

“So I thought maybe a cage would help,” Travis continued.

“You want me to lock my dick in a cage?” I said, letting the outrage show. Despite the fact that ten seconds ago I’d been panicking that he’d somehow found out the idea of being locked turned me on, I was suddenly kind of angry that he’d have the audacity to suggest I actually do it.

He shrugged. “Not necessarily. It’s just an idea.”

I exhaled and let the outrage subside. I didn’t know why I was even acting like this. Why I didn’t just admit straight up that the idea turned me on.

“Come here,” Travis said, gesturing to me to come sit on the sofa, beside where he sat with his laptop on his knees.

I sat down beside him. “Look,” he said. His browser was open to some online store, and every product on display was some type of chastity cage. Plastic ones, metal ones, rows of different shapes and sizes and locking mechanisms.

“Wow,” I said. “I never knew there were so many different kinds. How many companies are there even making these things?”

Travis laughed. “I know, right? There must be a real market for it. All those cocks not getting any use at all.”

He scrolled down the page, rows and rows of these fucking cages. “What do you think? Interested in the idea?”

“You can’t even get hard in these things.”

He gave me a skeptical look. “Why does that matter? You can’t get hard most of the time anyway.”

I stayed silent; I didn’t want to admit that waiting in the living room while he got fucked had gotten me harder than anything had for a while.

“Any preferences?” he asked. “Any you see that you like the look of?”

I thought about it as he scrolled. “I don’t know where to even start,” I admitted.

“Okay. How about, metal or plastic?”

I considered it for a few seconds. The plastic ones looked lighter. And less expensive. And they wouldn’t be cold against my skin the way the metal ones would. On the other hand though, there was something kind of thrilling about the metal: I thought about the firm, unyielding metal wrapped around my dick, unable to be broken or penetrated. I’d be totally at its mercy.

“Maybe metal,” I said. “The metal ones look kind of cool.”

“Okay, good start.” Travis filtered the list down to just the metal ones. “How about the styles?”

I studied the different types. There were ones that were made out of bars, like an actual cage but in the shape of a banana; they reminded me of a terribly impractical version of those utensils you could get for separating out your egg yolk. Others were solid, but with holes for your dick to breathe a little or something. And others were just a solid, curved tube of metal with a piss-slit at the end. Seeing those ones, thinking about my cock being completely encased in solid metal, unable to escape, unable to even be seen, made my heart race a little. That was the kind I wanted.

“The solid ones,” I said, pointing to a couple of the type. “Maybe that one.” I pointed to one that was a little more… penis-shaped than the others, with a slight hint of a mushroom head. In my mind I wondered if maybe wearing one that shape could make me look like I was packing more than I actually was.

“Nice,” Travis said. “I like it.”

“I mean, that’s if I was going to get one,” I said. “I don’t know about the idea.”

“What are you worried about?” he asked.

“I mean, it’s a big commitment,” I replied. “It’s kind of expensive. And I don’t know if I’ll like it.”

“No harm trying,” he said. “It’s my shout.”

“You sure?”

“The way I see it, it’s an investment,” he told me. “Because if it works then maybe I can get fucked without you freaking out about it.” He paused, before adding, “And you’ll have more fun too.” It sounded like an afterthought though.

I shrugged. “I guess.” He was right, I had nothing to lose by trying it out. Besides, even though I was putting on this bizarre act of being hesitant, I actually really wanted it to happen.

“What size do you think I should get?” I asked. “Medium? Or small?”

Travis looked at me, his eyebrows tilting in a show of scepticism. “Babe, seriously? You think you’re medium?”

“Oh,” I said, feeling embarrassed. “So, small then.”

“Is there an extra-small?”

“Surely I’m not…”

“We should probably measure to make sure.” He stood up. “I’ll get the tape measure. You try not to get too excited, you don’t want to overestimate.”

To be honest that was harder said than done. The idea of having it measured turned me on. But I tried to distract myself.

He came back into the room a minute later with the tape measure. “Drop your trousers,” he ordered.

I undid my belt, and my fly, and dropped my trousers to my knees. Then, a little reluctantly, I pulled my cock and balls out from my underwear,

Travis put the end of the tape measure against my pelvis where it met the top of my dick. He pulled the tape measure taut, out at ninety degrees from my body, and I lifted my flaccid cock to line it up with the tape measure.

“Two point six inches,” Travis read out. I winced in embarrassment: the number was lower than I’d expected. He wrapped the tape measure around my balls to get the ring size too.

He looked at the specs on the web page, his lip curling into a grin. “Two point six inches,” he repeated. “That’s extra small, babe.”

It was astounding how comfortable he already was with making fun of my size, my performance, my inability to satisfy him. I wondered how long he’d wanted to say these things; had he been holding this in the whole time we’d been together?

He looked up at me looking at him. “That’s all I need,” he said, dismissing me. “Like I said, I’m paying.

I got up off the sofa and left him to fill out the payment details. I was nervous: I wasn’t sure if I was going to like what I was getting myself into. But at the same time I was excited. And I was looking forward to finding out what it felt like to have my dick locked away next time my husband was fucked.