u/Far_Art5484

This story contains SPH & Chastity

Evan had been in love with Maya for almost three years.

He had never actually told her.

He didn’t need to.

It was there in the way he answered every call, remembered exactly how she took her coffee, drove across town whenever she needed help, and somehow found birthday gifts based on things she had casually mentioned months earlier.

Maya called him sweet.

Evan had grown to hate that word.

Sweet. Reliable. Such a good guy.

Exactly the kind of man women claimed they wanted while Maya continued dating men who seemed specifically designed to frustrate him.

They were louder than Evan. More confident. The kind of men who could meet Maya at a bar and have a hand around her waist twenty minutes later without looking remotely nervous about it.

Evan was the one who listened afterward.

He brought coffee after breakups. Helped assemble furniture. Reminded her she deserved better whenever one of those men treated her badly.

Then another cocky asshole would make her laugh across a crowded room, and Evan would find himself exactly where he had always been.

Her friend.

Maya was almost unfairly attractive. Outgoing, naturally flirtatious and completely comfortable with attention. She hugged people when she greeted them, touched their arms when she laughed, and seemed capable of walking into a party knowing nobody and leaving with three new invitations.

Evan rehearsed text messages before sending them.

Which was why he assumed she was joking when she announced one evening:

“I found you a girl.”

They were eating takeout on Maya’s couch.

“I don’t need you finding me a girl.”

“Yes, you do.”

She smiled.

“Tessa.”

Evan knew Tessa.

Tall, blonde and intimidatingly pretty. Long legs, bright blue eyes, an athletic figure and the kind of confidence that made it seem perfectly natural when every man in the room noticed her.

Evan had barely managed a coherent conversation the two times they had met.

“No.”

“She asked about you.”

That got his attention.

“What?”

“She thinks you’re cute.”

Cute.

Of course.

“And she’s tired of dating assholes,” Maya continued. “She said she wants to try somebody nice.”

“So I’m a rehabilitation program?”

Maya laughed.

“I told her you’re kind, dependable, funny once you relax, and you’d actually treat her well.”

“You gave me a reference?”

“Basically.”

She grinned.

“I also told her you’d probably bring flowers.”

“I haven’t even agreed.”

“You absolutely would bring flowers.”

Annoyingly, she knew him too well.

“Fine. One date.”

Maya was already reaching for her phone.

---

Evan brought flowers.

Of course he did.

Not roses. Roses felt desperate.

A smaller arrangement that he hoped communicated thoughtful without communicating I’ve already imagined our wedding.

Tessa looked even better than he remembered.

She wore a fitted summer dress that showed off long tanned legs and hugged her waist before falling loosely over her hips. Her blonde hair was down in soft waves, and there was something effortless about the way she carried herself.

She looked like a woman accustomed to being wanted.

When Evan handed her the flowers, her face brightened.

“Oh my God. Maya was right.”

His heart sank slightly.

“She said you’d bring flowers.”

Then she smiled.

“That’s really sweet.”

There was that word again.

Still, dinner went surprisingly well.

Tessa was warm and animated. She told him stories about terrible dates, laughed easily, and reached across the table more than once to touch his forearm when something amused her.

Evan paid despite her offering to split it.

Afterward they walked for almost an hour.

By the time they reached her building, he had started to wonder if Maya had actually been right.

Maybe this could work.

Tessa stopped near the entrance.

“I had fun.”

“Me too.”

Evan was still calculating whether he should kiss her when she smiled.

“You think way too much.”

Then she kissed him.

His brain stopped working.

She smelled faintly sweet. Her hand settled comfortably against his chest, and unlike Evan, she didn’t seem nervous at all.

She kissed him again.

When she pulled back, she smiled.

“Want to come upstairs?”

He tried desperately to make his answer sound casual.

“Sure.”

---

Tessa’s apartment smelled faintly of vanilla.

She put the flowers into a vase while Evan stood near the kitchen counter wondering what to do with his hands.

“You’re nervous.”

“A little.”

Tessa smiled.

“It’s cute.”

Evan wished attractive women would stop describing him with words normally reserved for puppies.

Then she crossed the room and kissed him again.

That helped.

Tessa took the lead naturally.

Her arms circled his neck. Evan’s hands settled cautiously around her waist, feeling the curve of her body beneath the thin fabric of her dress.

She pressed herself closer.

The fact that someone who looked like Tessa actually wanted him there felt almost unreal.

When his hands hesitated, she laughed softly.

“You know you’re allowed to touch me.”

He relaxed slightly.

Maybe being the nice guy wasn’t always a consolation prize.

Then Tessa’s hand moved toward his belt.

His heart started pounding again.

She noticed.

“Relax,” she said with a little smile.

He tried.

She undid his belt, opened his pants and slowly pulled them down.

Then she looked.

Her expression changed immediately.

Her eyes widened.

There was a brief silence.

Then a small giggle escaped her.

Evan stared at her, completely confused.

“What?”

Tessa covered her mouth, trying to stop herself.

“What is it?”

Another tiny laugh slipped out.

Evan’s face began to heat.

“Tessa, what?”

She looked down again, then back at him.

Her voice was surprisingly calm.

“It’s tiny.”

And then she giggled again.

For a second Evan just stared at her.

The words didn’t even register properly.

“What?”

Tessa immediately looked guilty, but she was still fighting the smile.

“I’m sorry.”

“Tiny?”

She bit her lip and nodded with another laugh

“yeah...”

Evan glanced down at himself as if there had somehow been a mistake.

There wasn’t.

He was completely hard.

A little over four inches.

Knowing she was seeing him at his absolute largest made the humiliation hit all at once.

His face went scarlet.

Tessa saw it and immediately softened.

“Awe.. Evan... I’m sorry.”

He reached for his pants.

“I didn’t mean to laugh,” she said. “I was just surprised.”

That somehow made it worse.

Surprised.

She hadn’t decided to embarrass him.

She hadn’t made some cruel joke.

She had simply looked down and reacted before she could stop herself.

Evan hurried to pull his clothes back into place.

Tessa touched his arm.

“Hey.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t. I embarrassed you.”

He couldn’t look at her.

She seemed desperate to find something reassuring to say.

“I really did have a good time tonight.”

There it was.

The sentence people used right before ending something.

Evan nodded.

“Yeah.”

Tessa gave him an apologetic smile.

“I think maybe we should stop here tonight.”

He swallowed.

“Okay.”

“I’m really sorry.”

He nodded and headed toward the door.

The flowers were still sitting in their vase on her kitchen counter.

That was the detail that stayed with him.

He had bought her flowers. Paid for dinner. Tried to be thoughtful, respectful, funny, everything women supposedly complained they couldn’t find.

And in the end, all it had taken was Tessa looking down and calmly saying two words.

It’s tiny.

---

At 12:17 a.m., Evan sent her one message.

Please don’t tell Maya.

By morning it had been read.

There was no reply.

---

Maya knocked shortly after noon.

She almost never knocked.

That was the first thing that worried him.

The second was her expression when he opened the door.

She was carrying two iced coffees and dressed for the summer heat in tiny denim shorts and a loose white tank top.

No bra.

Evan noticed immediately.

Of course he did.

The thin fabric followed the shape of her breasts, and the cool air inside his apartment made the outlines beneath it impossible not to notice.

He forced his eyes back to her face.

Of all the days for Maya to show up looking like that.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

She held up his coffee.

“Brought your usual.”

“Thanks.”

He stepped aside.

Maya kicked off her sandals and walked inside like she had a hundred times before.

“You look exhausted.”

“Didn’t sleep much.”

She handed him the coffee.

For the first few minutes they talked about nothing important.

The heat.

Traffic.

Something stupid one of their friends had posted online.

Maya leaned against the kitchen counter while she talked, and Evan found himself making a conscious effort not to let his eyes drift downward.

Normally being around her dressed like that would have been distracting enough.

Today it felt almost cruel.

Eventually Maya looked down at her drink.

“So… Tessa called me this morning.”

Evan went still.

There it was.

“She told you.”

“Yeah.”

He looked away.

“I asked her not to.”

“I know.”

His head lifted.

“You know?”

“She told me about the message too.”

“Jesus.”

“I’m sorry.”

Maya didn’t rush to fill the silence.

Eventually Evan asked:

“What exactly did she tell you?”

Maya’s expression softened.

“Do you really want me to say it?”

“I want to know what she told you.”

She hesitated.

“She said the date actually went really well.”

Evan gave a short, humourless laugh.

“Until it didn’t.”

Maya nodded.

“She said you went back to her place and things started getting physical.”

His face warmed.

“And?”

“She said she opened your pants.”

Evan stared down at his coffee.

Maya continued carefully.

“And when she saw you, she was surprised.”

“What exactly did she say?”

“Evan, are yoy sure you want to know?”

“What did she say?”

Maya took a breath.

“She said you were really small.”

He closed his eyes.

“How small?”

“Do you really need me to—”

“Yes.”

Another hesitation.

“She said very tiny.”

The same word.

Coming from Maya somehow made it worse.

“She said she giggled before she could stop herself.”

Evan’s face burned.

Maya looked genuinely uncomfortable having to tell him.

“She said you looked confused and kept asking what was wrong. Then she told you…”

“She said she realized she’d embarrassed you. She apologized and told you she’d had a good time.”

Evan laughed once.

“Oh, Evan.”

“Don’t.”

She shifted closer and put a hand on his forearm.

“I’m not laughing.”

“I know.”

“I’m just sorry.”

Her thumb moved once across his skin without her seeming to think about it.

“That must have been incredibly embarrassing.”

The word landed hard.

Embarrassing.

Maya understood exactly what had happened without him having to describe any of it himself.

He wanted to pull away.

He also wanted her hand to stay exactly where it was.

Then Maya hesitated.

“There’s one more thing.”

His stomach tightened.

“What?”

“Tessa told some of the girls this morning.”

Evan slowly looked at her.

“What do you mean, some of the girls?”

“The girls who were there.”

“All your friends?”

Maya nodded.

He sat down.

“What exactly did she tell them?”

“Basically what she told me.”

“And?”

Maya’s expression became firm.

“I’m not repeating the rest.”

“There were jokes?"

Her silence answered for her.

“Oh my God.”

Maya sat beside him.

Their shoulders touched.

Her bare thigh rested only inches from his.

She put a hand on his knee.

“I told them to stop, i defended you.”

That image somehow made everything worse.

Maya sitting among a group of attractive women defending him while they laughed about something he had desperately wanted kept private.

He covered his face.

“I specifically asked her not to tell you.”

“I know.”

“And now all of you know.”

“I know.”

Her hand squeezed his knee gently.

“I’m sorry.”

Evan lowered his hands.

“How much was she exaggerating?”

Maya frowned.

“What?”

“You heard what she said.”

“I have no idea.”

“She probably made it sound worse.”

“Maybe.”

He studied her.

“You don’t sound convinced.”

Maya hesitated.

Then, carefully:

“Can I see it?”

His head snapped toward her.

“What?”

She immediately raised one hand.

“I know how that sounds.”

“No, I really don’t think you do.”

“If she exaggerated, I can honestly tell them.”

“No.”

“Evan.”

She gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s me.”

Exactly.

That was the problem.

It was Maya.

The woman he had wanted for years.

The woman sitting beside him in tiny shorts and a thin white shirt he had already caught himself staring through more than once.

And now she wanted to see for herself whether another woman had exaggerated about how small he was.

“You trust me.”

He did.

Unfortunately.

“I promise I won’t laugh.”

Evan stared at her.

“You’ll actually tell them if she exaggerated?”

“Of course.”

That tiny possibility got him.

Maybe Maya could fix at least one part of this.

“Fine.”

His fingers felt clumsy as he slowly undid his pants.

Maya turned her head politely.

“Tell me when.”

Several agonizing seconds later:

“Okay.”

She looked.

Her eyes dropped.

And stopped.

For half a second her expression betrayed her completely.

Raised eyebrows.

Pressed lips.

A tiny breath caught in her throat.

Evan went hot from head to toe.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh.”

“I’m not.”

“You almost did.”

“I know.”

She immediately touched his arm.

“I’m sorry.”

Then Maya looked again.

Not a quick glance this time.

She actually studied him for a moment, as though trying to objectively compare what she was seeing with whatever Tessa had told her.

Evan had never felt more exposed.

Finally Maya exhaled quietly.

“Okay.”

“What?”

Her expression softened.

“Oh, Evan.”

Somehow those two words were worse than laughter.

“What?”

She squeezed his arm.

Her voice became very gentle.

“Im so sorry, it is very tiny.”

He closed his eyes.

“Fantastic.”

“No. Hey.”

Maya leaned slightly closer.

“I’m not saying that to make fun of you.”

He quickly covered himself.

“Tessa wasn’t exaggerating. I was surprised too.”

That hurt.

Maya saw it instantly.

“Oh, honey.”

He looked away.

“No, listen to me.”

Her hand moved from his arm to his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault.”

He reluctantly looked at her.

“You didn’t choose it. There’s nothing you did wrong.”

She was completely sincere.

“And the right girl won’t care.”

Evan gave her a doubtful look.

“I mean it.”

Maya rubbed his shoulder.

“The right girl will like you enough that your size won’t decide whether she wants you.”

“She’ll notice.”

Maya paused.

“Well… yes.”

Another little cut delivered with absolute kindness.

“She might even be surprised.”

Evan gave her a look.

“I was.”

“Maya.”

“I’m being honest.”

She smiled apologetically.

“But surprise isn’t the same as making you feel ashamed.”

Her hand stayed on him.

“The right girl won’t laugh at your size.”

Evan fixed his clothes as quickly as possible.

Maya waited.

Then, when he was finished, she pulled him into a hug.

Her arms wrapped tightly around him.

The thin fabric of her top did almost nothing to disguise the warmth and softness of her body against his.

His heart pounded.

Maya simply held him.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

The woman he had wanted for nearly three years was pressed against him, comforting him because she had personally confirmed that the most humiliating thing Tessa had said about him was true.

And despite everything, he didn’t want Maya to let go.

When she finally pulled back, she looked him directly in the eyes.

“This doesn’t change anything between us.”

For half a second he felt relief.

“You’re still my friend”

Then she smiled.

Of course.

Friend.

The word landed almost as hard as tiny had.

“I have to go for a while,” Maya said. “But I’ll come back later.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

She kissed his cheek.

“I want to.”

---

Maya returned that evening carrying a small shopping bag.

Evan looked at it immediately.

“That seems ominous.”

She smiled faintly.

“Maybe hear me out first.”

She sat beside him on the couch, close enough that their legs touched.

“I kept thinking about what happened.”

Evan looked away.

“I hated hearing the girls talk about you like that, making fun of you.”

Maya rested a hand lightly on his thigh.

“And I kept thinking about you going home last night after Tessa laughed at your penis.”

He said nothing.

“I don’t want that happening again.”

“How exactly are you planning to prevent it?”

Maya reached into the bag.

“I bought you something.”

She removed a small box.

Then opened it.

Inside was a compact plastic chastity cage.

Evan stared.

Then looked at her.

“You’re serious.”

“Completely.”

She lifted it carefully between her fingers.

The device was very small.

Evan’s face heated instantly.

“That thing is tiny.”

Maya looked down at it.

Then back at him.

“I picked the size carefully.”

His stomach tightened.

“After seeing you this afternoon, I knew this one would fit well.”

Evan covered his face.

“Oh my God.”

Maya immediately rubbed his shoulder.

“I’m not trying to embarrass you.”

Somehow that made it worse.

She gave him a sympathetic little smile.

“I want it to fit properly.”

Evan stared at the small cage in her hand.

The fact that Maya had spent part of her afternoon comparing sizes while thinking specifically about his body was almost impossible to process.

“What exactly is the plan?”

Maya placed the cage into his palm.

“The plan is that I keep you safe from another Tessa.”

He looked up.

Maya was completely serious.

“I meant what I told you earlier. The right girl won’t care that you’re small. But until we find her, I don’t want another woman getting you into bed, seeing you and making you feel ashamed, laughing at you and telling people.”

She closed his fingers around the cage.

“If you wear this, nobody gets that far unless we already know she’s someone you can trust, who wont mock you”

“We?”

“Yes.”

There was no teasing in her voice.

“I’m helping.”

“And you keep the key.”

Maya nodded.

“For how long?”

“Until there’s somebody I trust enough to know she’ll treat you properly.”

The word I landed harder than it should have.

Maya choosing.

Maya knowing exactly what he looked like.

Maya deciding which woman was safe.

Maya holding the key.

It wasn’t remotely the intimacy Evan had imagined having with her.

But it was intimacy.

Maya had inserted herself directly into the most private part of his life.

“I’d obviously let you out sometimes, to take care of your self,” she said matter-of-factly.

His face warmed.

Maya noticed.

This time she didn’t tease him.

“But otherwise I keep the key. And if some pretty girl starts paying attention to you, you tell me first and ill talk to her.”

Evan stared at her.

“You’re making me sound completely incapable of making my own decisions.”

“No.”

She smiled gently.

“I’m saying you trust people too easily when you want them to like you.”

That was annoyingly difficult to argue with.

“I don’t want you taking this off just because somebody gives you attention and then ending up right back where you were last night.”

Evan looked down at the cage.

“This is incredibly humiliating.”

“I know.”

Maya squeezed his hand.

“But last night was worse.”

He couldn’t argue with that either.

Then she held his gaze.

“Will you wear it for me?”

For me.

Two words.

That was all it took.

“Okay.”

Maya looked almost relieved.

“Yeah?”

He nodded.

She hugged him immediately.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

His chest tightened.

It would almost have been easier if she were laughing.

Instead, she genuinely cared.

She pulled back and picked up the cage.

“I watched a couple videos earlier so I’d know how this works.”

Evan stared at her.

“You researched this?”

“Of course.”

She looked genuinely puzzled that he found that surprising.

“I wasn’t going to buy something and have no idea how to use it.”

Another wave of embarrassment rolled through him.

Maya had spent part of her afternoon researching chastity cages.

For him.

Comparing sizes.

Learning how they were fitted.

Thinking about what would fit his body.

Then rejecting the larger option after seeing him herself.

Maya glanced toward the kitchen.

“Actually, grab me some ice.”

Evan frowned.

“Ice?”

“Apparently guys sometimes get aroused when somebody is trying to put one of these on.”

His face heated immediately.

Maya gave him a sympathetic little smile.

“The guide said that can make fitting it difficult. They recommended cooling things down first.”

Evan stared at her.

“You really researched this.”

“I told you I did.”

A few minutes later he returned with a small bag of ice wrapped in a thin kitchen towel.

Maya took it from him.

“Come here.”

He reluctantly moved closer.

Once again she was completely matter-of-fact about something Evan could barely believe was happening.

Maya carefully held the cold pack against him.

The chill made him tense immediately.

“Cold?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry.”

She smiled apologetically.

“That’s sort of the point.”

The effect was fast.

Any reaction his body might have had to Maya being this close disappeared under the cold, leaving him soft and contracted.

When Maya finally removed the pack, Evan made the mistake of looking down.

Barely more than an inch.

Small.

Soft.

Completely exposed in front of the woman he had wanted for years.

His stomach tightened.

He had never felt so vulnerable.

Tessa seeing him fully aroused had been humiliating in one way.

This was different.

Maya was seeing him at the opposite extreme, soft, cold and reduced to almost nothing, and there was nowhere to hide from the contrast.

Maya looked too.

Not mockingly.

Just assessing.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “That worked.”

Evan immediately wanted to cover himself.

Maya caught his wrist gently.

“Hey.”

He looked at her.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed with me.”

Easy for her to say.

She was sitting inches away looking at what appeared to Evan to be barely over an inch of himself while holding a cage she had specifically chosen because it was small enough to contain him.

Maya picked up the device.

“I think this will be much easier now.”

That sentence went straight through him.

He let her continue.

She worked carefully, her attention entirely on making sure she wasn’t pinching or hurting him.

For Maya, it seemed almost clinical.

For Evan, every small touch felt enormous.

He had imagined her hands on him countless times.

Never like this.

Never while he was completely soft and exposed, waiting for her to place something around him that only she would control.

His breathing changed.

Maya immediately looked up.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No.”

“Too cold still?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

She returned her attention to what she was doing.

“Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable.”

That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was Maya’s fingers touching him at all.

A moment later the cage settled into place.

With humiliating ease.

Maya paused.

She checked the fit carefully.

Evan knew exactly what she was thinking.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

Her mouth twitched, but she didn’t laugh.

“I was actually going to say I’m glad I got the smaller size.”

Evan closed his eyes.

“That’s worse.”

“Why?”

She genuinely didn’t understand.

“I was worried it might be too tight.”

Maya checked it again.

“But it looks like there’s plenty of room for you when you’re soft.”

Evan felt his face burning.

She glanced up and immediately softened.

“Evan, that’s a good thing. I wanted it to fit properly.”

He nodded, unable to think of anything useful to say.

Maya picked up the tiny lock.

“Ready?”

Not remotely.

He nodded anyway.

Click.

The sound seemed impossibly loud.

Maya gave the cage one final careful inspection, then sat back.

Her expression wasn’t amused.

It was relieved.

“There.”

She smiled.

“Nice and safe.”

Evan looked down.

A few minutes earlier he had been completely exposed to her, soft and barely over an inch.

Now even that was hidden inside something Maya had selected, fitted and locked herself.

She held up the tiny key.

And somehow that made him feel even more vulnerable.

Maya slipped it into her purse.

“I’ll keep this somewhere safe.”

He swallowed.

“Okay.”

“If you meet somebody you’re interested in, you tell me first.”

“And then?”

“I will talk to her, then we decide whether she will be safe with you, and wont make fun of you. ”

There was nothing mocking in her voice.

That made it land much harder.

Maya touched his cheek.

“You’re too sweet to let girls hurt you.”

There was that word again.

Except now his closest friend had him locked in a cage while calling him sweet.

The humiliation should have made him angry.

Instead, all he could think about was the fact that Maya cared enough to involve herself.

A few minutes later she glanced at the time.

“Oh. I need to get going.”

“Where?”

“Dinner.”

Evan looked at her.

“A date?”

“Yeah.”

She said it as casually as if she were going to the grocery store.

Jealousy appeared immediately.

Not because Maya was trying to provoke him.

She wasn’t.

That was what made it worse.

Her dating life simply existed.

Men wanted her.

She wanted some of them back.

And meanwhile Evan was sitting on the couch newly locked in a tiny cage by the woman he had spent three years wishing would choose him.

Maya noticed the change in his expression.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

He nodded.

She accepted that.

At the door she reached into her purse, then stopped.

“I don’t actually want this loose in here.”

She pulled out the key.

Evan watched as Maya unclasped the simple necklace around her neck and threaded the tiny key onto it.

She fastened the chain again.

The key settled against her chest.

“There.”

She looked down briefly.

“I definitely won’t lose it now.”

Then she started checking her purse for her wallet.

That was it.

No teasing.

No suggestive smile.

To Maya it was simply the safest place to keep something important.

To Evan, seeing the key to his cage resting against the chest he had fantasized about for years was almost impossible to look away from.

Maya caught him staring.

He immediately looked at her face.

She seemed to assume he was looking at the key.

“Don’t worry. It’s safe.”

“Right.”

She smiled.

Then stepped toward him.

“Come here.”

Before he could react, Maya wrapped both arms around him.

It wasn’t one of her quick goodbye hugs.

She embraced him properly.

Warm.

Close.

Reassuring.

Evan’s arms circled her almost automatically.

And immediately he became painfully aware of everything.

Her breasts pressed firmly against his chest through the thin fabric of her top.

Her body fitted against his.

Her cheek rested beside his.

Her perfume filled his breathing.

For Maya, it was affection.

Comfort.

A friend making sure somebody she cared about knew he wasn’t alone.

For Evan, it was torture.

His body reacted before he could stop it.

The tiny cage allowed almost nothing.

He felt himself strain helplessly against the rigid enclosure, the pressure immediate and frustrating.

There was nowhere for the reaction to go.

No way to shift comfortably.

No relief.

Just Maya holding him closer while his body pushed uselessly against the thing she had personally locked around him.

Evan closed his eyes.

It was almost absurd.

For years he had imagined finally having Maya pressed against him exactly like this.

Now it was happening.

Her breasts were against his chest.

Her arms were wrapped around him.

His face was beside her hair.

And he was locked tightly away because she had decided he needed protecting.

Maya rubbed his back.

“You’re going to be okay.”

That nearly made it worse.

He held her a little tighter.

She didn’t know what the hug was doing to him.

Or perhaps she simply had no reason to think about it.

Why would she?

To Maya, Evan was her sweet friend.

The person she wanted to protect.

Not the man she was getting dressed up to meet for dinner.

When she finally pulled away, the sudden loss of her body against his almost hurt.

Maya smiled up at him.

“Better?”

Not remotely.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

She kissed his cheek.

“You’re a good guy, Evan. Nothing about yesterday changes that.”

“Thanks.”

She touched the key at her chest almost absentmindedly.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Then she left.

The door closed behind her.

Evan stood there for several seconds without moving.

The pressure in the cage was still painfully obvious.

So was the memory of Maya’s breasts pressed against him.

He could still smell her perfume.

And somewhere between the humiliation, frustration and jealousy was something he didn’t particularly want to examine.

Maya had chosen the cage.

Maya had fitted it.

Maya had locked it.

Maya had his key resting against her chest.

She had promised to protect him until they found the right girl.

And now she was out living the effortless dating life Evan had always watched from the sidelines.

He looked down at himself.

Humiliated.

Frustrated.

Protected.

Completely friend-zoned.

And somehow more emotionally tangled up with Maya than he had been before any of this started.

Part 2 here https://www.reddit.com/r/ChastityStories/s/lmnWI6Jp04

Chapter Three

The next morning, I was still locked.

I woke before her with my cock already pressing painfully against the cage, the skin beneath the plastic tender after another restless night. The ache had become constant, following me into every room and sitting beneath every thought.

I had expected her to soften overnight.

She had not.

“Have you reconsidered?” I asked when she opened her eyes.

She glanced beneath the blankets and smiled.

“have you reconsidered your jealous and controlling behaviour?”

“I apologized.”

“Mhm.” She brushed her fingers across my cheek. “But saying sorry because your little penis wants out isn’t the same as learning your lesson.”

A few of the women from the trip were coming over that afternoon for drinks and dinner. I decided it was my chance to prove myself.

I would be helpful, pleasant and completely composed. Maybe after they left, she would decide I had behaved well enough to earn some attention.

Maybe even the key.

By the time the doorbell rang, I had cleaned the kitchen, arranged the food and set out the glasses.

She watched me from the counter.

“You’re being awfully helpful today.”

“I’m trying to make you happy.”

“I can tell.”

Her eyes dipped briefly toward my pants.

“Very motivated.”

The women arrived carrying wine, desserts and far too much food. I recognized Lauren, Melissa and Claire from the trip pictures.

I stayed upstairs at first, pretending to give them space while listening to their laughter below. Every time one of them began with, “Do you remember when…” my stomach tightened.

Eventually, my wife called me down.

“Come say hello. You’re being antisocial.”

I adjusted my pants, trying to hide the outline of the cage, then forced myself to smile.

The conversation dipped briefly when I entered.

They welcomed me warmly. Lauren thanked me for preparing everything. Melissa asked about work. Claire joked that they had managed to return my wife in one piece.

For a while, everything felt ordinary.

Then Claire looked across the table at me.

“You seem surprisingly good about everything.”

The room quieted.

“What do you mean?”

She glanced toward my wife.

“After the trip. I thought tonight might be awkward.”

I assumed she meant the dancing.

“We talked about it.”

Claire frowned.

“Well, I suppose we did encourage her pretty heavily.”

My stomach tightened.

“Encouraged her to do what?”

Claire froze.

Lauren looked down at her wine. Melissa immediately glanced toward my wife.

“I’m sorry,” Claire said. “I thought she had told you.”

“Told me what?”

My wife calmly raised her glass, but I saw the warning in her eyes.

Claire swallowed.

“About your arrangement. The cage. The denial.”

The blood drained from my face.

“What does that have to do with the trip?”

“She told us how long it had been since you two had sex.”

My heart dropped.

They knew.

They knew I was sitting across from them locked beneath my pants. They knew my wife controlled my release and that I had asked her to deny me.

“What exactly did you encourage her to do?”

“That’s enough,” my wife said lightly. “We have guests.”

Her foot brushed against my ankle beneath the table.

Be good.

I remembered the key and forced myself to stay quiet.

The rest of dinner passed in a haze. I cleared plates, brought out dessert and tried not to notice Claire avoiding my eyes.

The moment the final guest left, I turned toward my wife.

“What did Claire mean?”

She began gathering the glasses.

“She meant that we talked, about your cage, your size and the last time we had sex'

She carried the glasses into the kitchen as though we were discussing nothing more serious than the dishes.

“They’re my friends. I’m allowed to talk to them.”

“And she wasn’t talking about the dancing.”

My wife paused, then sighed.

“No.”

My heart began pounding.

She leaned against the counter and studied my face.

“Are you going to have another jealous little tantrum?”

“Just tell me.”

Her head tilted.

“You’re already worked up and I haven’t even said anything yet.”

The tension sent another painful pulse through the cage. I shifted slightly, trying not to reveal how strongly the thought affected me.

She watched my face and smiled.

“That’s cute.”

Then she looked directly into my eyes.

“I slept with him.”

The room seemed to tilt.

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

She watched the realization settle across my face.

“You cheated on me.”

My voice rose despite myself.

“You let your friends convince you to sleep with some stranger.”

“And this,” she said softly, “is exactly why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d throw a tantrum and act like a jealous baby instead of listening.”

Her expression became almost pitying.

“They didn’t convince me to want him. They convinced me to stop feeling guilty about wanting him.”

She stepped closer and rested one hand against my chest.

“They asked when I had last been properly fucked. I told them I hadn’t had sex in eight months.”

Her smile became more deliberate.

“And that honestly, I hadn’t been properly fucked since before I met my husband.”

The words landed like a blow.

My cock throbbed helplessly inside the plastic. I tried to keep my expression steady, but she could clearly see the conflict on my face.

“Your poor little mind doesn’t know whether to be devastated or excited.”

I looked away.

She caught my chin and turned me back toward her.

“Don’t pout.”

She traced one finger slowly down my chest.

“I explained the cage. The denial. How much you enjoy being kept frustrated. How sweet and attentive you become when your little penis is safely locked away.”

Her fingertip stopped just above my waistband.

“Once they knew how little penetration had ever done for me, they thought it was ridiculous that your fantasy had turned into my celibacy.”

“You agreed to it.”

“I agreed to indulge you.”

Her voice remained soft and patient, as if she were explaining something obvious.

“And I knew how much you were enjoying it. You were locked, aching and getting exactly the frustration you asked me for.”

Her smile widened.

“I didn’t want to unlock you and ruin your fantasy just because I needed sex.”

I stared at her.

“You wanted to stay locked,” she continued. “I wanted to get properly fucked. Why should either of us have to be disappointed?”

“That isn’t how marriage works.”

“Don’t you want your wife to be happy and satisfied?”

“Not by somebody else.”

“Aw. Are you jealous, baby?”

“Yes.”

“That’s adorable.”

She stepped closer.

“But this arrangement isn’t only about what makes your little cock happy. I have needs too. I need to feel desired. I need to be touched. Sometimes I need sex instead of lying beside a husband who gets excited every time I tell him no.”

The words made me shift again, the cage suddenly feeling much tighter.

She noticed the discomfort in my posture and smiled.

“You could have talked to me.”

“And asked you to give up the thing you were enjoying most?”

Her voice softened.

“You loved being locked. I could see it every day. You were attentive, desperate and constantly thinking about me. I wasn’t going to spoil that for you.”

“You’re saying you did it for me?”

“Not entirely.”

She laughed softly.

“I did it because I wanted him. Protecting your denial was just a lovely bonus.”

She stroked my cheek.

“You should honestly thank him.”

I stared at her.

“He gave your wife something she desperately needed. I came home happy, relaxed and very satisfied.”

Her eyes searched my face.

“And judging by the way you can barely stand still whenever I mention him, he gave you something you needed too.”

She watched me carefully, enjoying every flicker of jealousy and arousal.

“Do you want to hear what happened?”

I knew she was teasing me now, turning the confession into another form of denial.

I nodded anyway.

“That’s what I thought.”

Her expression warmed as she remembered.

“When we were dancing, I could feel how much he wanted me. His hands were holding my hips and pulling me back every time I moved.”

Her voice became slower and softer.

“The girls saw it too"

My stomach twisted.

“They reminded me that you were probably at home enjoying your denial while I stood there pretending I didn’t want him.”

She leaned closer.

“So I stopped pretending.”

Her lips nearly brushed my ear.

“I pressed back against him and made sure he understood.”

The plastic felt painfully tight around me.

“Still jealous?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Her cheeks had begun to flush.

“We went below deck. There was a small bedroom, and I closed the door behind us.”

She held my gaze.

“He stood there watching me, waiting to see what I would do. I smiled and lowered myself onto my knees.”

My stomach tightened.

She knew exactly what the image was doing to me.

“I had never wanted to do that for you,” she said softly. “But I wanted to do it for him.”

My cock surged painfully against the cage.

Her smile deepened as she read the strain in my face.

“When I saw how much bigger he was, I hesitated. Then I decided I wanted to find out how much I could handle.”

She paused.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Her voice became almost seductive.

“I loved the way he looked down at me. I loved feeling his fingers slide into my hair when he realized I wasn’t teasing.”

The affectionate softness in her voice made the humiliation sting harder.

“And knowing I was willingly giving a man I had just met something I had never wanted to give my husband felt incredibly naughty.”

She leaned close enough that her breath touched my ear.

“I was enjoying him, but imagining you at home, locked and aching while I knelt for him made me even wetter.”

I closed my eyes.

“He pulled me up, turned me around and moved that tiny green string out of his way.”

Her breathing had deepened.

“It had been so long, and he was much more than I was used to. But once I relaxed…” Her smile became dreamy. “It felt incredible.”

The comparison sat between us without needing to be spoken.

She stroked my cheek.

“Aw. Are you jealous again?”

I nodded.

“That’s cute.”

Her smile became mischievous.

“And once wasn’t nearly enough. I saw him the next morning, after the beach and again before we left.”

My stomach sank.

“Once I remembered what satisfying sex felt like, I wasn’t going to pretend one time had been enough.”

Then her expression became more certain.

“And I’m not stopping.”

My heart lurched.

“When I need sex, I’m going to have it. I’m not returning to celibacy because you enjoy being denied. You get your fantasy. I get my needs met.”

She smiled sweetly at the panic and arousal fighting across my face.

“Aw. You look crushed.”

“I am.”

She stepped close and placed her palm firmly over the cage through my pants.

The pressure made me shudder.

Her smile deepened as she felt my reaction.

“And still painfully hard.”

“I need you to unlock me.”

“No.”

The answer was immediate but gentle.

Then her voice softened.

“How long has it been since I let you come?”

“Almost two weeks.”

“And since you touched me or saw me naked?”

“Before the trip.”

Her smile became knowing.

“So you haven’t come, touched your wife or seen her naked in days.”

Her thumb traced my lower lip.

“You must be starving.”

“I am.”

“I bet that even though you’re angry and hurt, you’d do almost anything just to touch me.”

Her hand slipped beneath the waistband of her shorts.

“Anything to see my breasts.”

I stared at her hand.

“Anything to put your mouth between my legs.”

She laughed softly.

“Oh, you poor thing.”

She lowered the waistband just enough to give me the slightest glimpse of smooth, bare skin before letting it rise again.

“I shaved this morning.”

The tiny glimpse sent a rush through my entire body.

She watched my reaction with obvious satisfaction.

“Do you want to see the rest?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to lick me?”

“Yes.”

The answer came immediately.

Her smile widened.

“What would you do for it?”

I stared at her, confused.

“Nothing is free, baby.”

She tapped one fingernail against the cage.

“Would you give me another week?”

I hesitated.

She ran her hands slowly over my chest.

“If you give me another full week, I’ll let you have all the attention you’ve been craving tonight.”

Her lips brushed my cheek.

“You can touch my breasts. Kiss me. Use your mouth until I come. Worship every part of me you’ve been dreaming about.”

She pulled back and smiled.

“Anything you want, as long as it doesn’t involve your little penis.”

Another week sounded impossible.

But the thought of finally seeing her naked and being close to her again made it difficult to breathe.

“I’ll do it.”

Her eyebrows lifted.

“That isn’t enough.”

“What else do you want?”

Her smile became beautifully patronizing.

“I want you to beg.”

My face burned.

“Beg me to keep you locked for another week. Beg me to let you worship your wife after she just told you how another man satisfied her.”

I closed my eyes.

“Look at me.”

I obeyed.

“Go ahead.”

“Please keep me locked another week.”

Her fingers circled the cage through my pants.

“And?”

“Please let me see you. Let me touch you and taste you. I’ll stay denied. I just need to be close to you.”

Her smile brightened.

“And your little penis?”

“Doesn’t get anything.”

She kissed my cheek.

“See? I knew what you really needed.”

Then she turned toward the stairs.

“Deal.”

I followed so eagerly that she laughed when she glanced back.

“Someone’s thirsty.”

“I am.”

In the bedroom, she undressed slowly, making me watch each piece of clothing fall away.

When she finally lay back against the pillows and opened her legs, the sight of her nearly broke me.

I dropped to my knees before she had to tell me.

Her laughter was soft and pleased.

“There’s my desperate little husband.”

I moved between her thighs, my heart pounding with gratitude and hunger.

She placed one hand on the back of my head and held me just out of reach.

“Remember our deal.”

“Another full week.”

“And no complaining, whining or pouting if decide if I need to get properly fucked during that week, or I'm adding more time"

Jealousy twisted inside me again, but the sight and scent of her overwhelmed everything else.

“Yes.”

She smiled.

“Good boy.”

Then she guided me down.

I tasted her like a man crawling through a desert who had finally been offered water.

There was no hesitation left. Only desperate hunger.

I pressed closer, eager for every sound and every tightening of her thighs around my head. The cage pressed painfully beneath me, but I barely cared.

She wanted me there.

She was touching me.

She was letting me please her.

Her fingers tightened in my hair.

“That’s it,” she whispered. “Show me how grateful you are.”

I had just begged for another week of denial for this.

With her praise filling my head and her hands holding me exactly where she wanted me, it felt like the easiest decision I had ever made.

Chapter Two

The days she was gone stretched longer than any lock period I had endured.

Eight days became nine, then ten.

Her messages came rarely. Most of mine sat on read for hours, sometimes overnight. When she did respond, it was usually nothing more than having fun, a heart emoji, or a blurry picture of cocktails.

The silence gave my imagination too much room.

I pictured her on the beach in the emerald T-bar bikini, the narrow strip disappearing between her cheeks whenever she walked. I imagined the tiny triangles barely containing her breasts, her tanned skin glowing as men watched her pass.

What made it worse was that she had never worn anything like that for me.

In all our years together, she had chosen modest bathing suits. One pieces, high waisted bottoms, tops that kept everything securely covered. She had never walked beside me with her ass exposed, the soft flesh of her cheeks jiggling with every step.

But now she was doing exactly that on a girls’ trip.

She was wearing the smallest bikini she had ever owned for strangers after refusing to let me see it in the fitting room.

That detail consumed me.

I imagined her stepping onto the sand, the T string vanishing completely between her full ass cheeks as they shifted and bounced with each step. Every man behind her could see more of her than she had ever willingly shown me in public.

And she knew I was locked at home imagining it.

The cage made every thought worse. My cock spent most of each day trapped somewhere between soft and hard, swelling whenever I pictured her and pressing immediately into the plastic. The skin had become tender. Every movement reminded me that I was still locked while she was somewhere far away wearing almost nothing.

I started checking her friends’ social media more often than I wanted to admit.

Most of the posts were harmless. Drinks beside the pool. Group selfies. Food and ocean views.

Then a new picture appeared.

It had been taken on a boat.

My wife stood near the centre in the emerald bikini, her skin golden and a drink raised in one hand. She was laughing at something outside the frame.

The suit looked even smaller than I had imagined. The top covered only what was necessary. The bottoms rose high across her hips before disappearing behind her.

Around her were the friends I recognized.

And four or five men I did not.

One stood directly behind her. His arm stretched along the railing, but from the angle, his hand appeared to rest near her waist.

My stomach dropped.

I enlarged the picture until it blurred, studying his hand, her posture, and the space between them.

Then I texted her.

Who are those guys?

She read it almost immediately.

Her response came nearly an hour later.

Don’t worry.

Those two words should have reassured me. Instead, they made everything worse.

I was at home, locked and denied.

She was on a boat in a thong bikini she had refused to model for me, surrounded by men who could stand close, watch her walk across the deck, and see her bare cheeks bounce with every step.

I had never been given that view.

They were getting it simply because they were there.

The jealousy felt hot and sickening.

I hated how much it turned me on.

She returned two days later.

I heard the front door open and followed her into the bedroom as she carried in her bags. She looked tired but happy, her hair still slightly salt-tangled. Her skin had deepened into a warm golden colour, and her loose tank top and short denim shorts showed off her thighs.

The sight of her hit me like a physical force.

“Hey,” I said. “I missed you.”

She dropped her bags beside the dresser, stretched, and climbed onto the bed.

“I missed you too.”

I tried to think of something normal to say.

Instead, the question escaped.

“Can you unlock me?”

She turned her head slowly.

“I just walked through the door, and the first thing you ask about is your release.”

Heat climbed my neck.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not whether I had fun. Not whether I’m tired. Not even a proper hello.”

“You’re right.” I sat beside her. “How was the trip?”

She watched me for another moment, then relaxed against the pillows.

She told me about afternoons beside the water, long lunches, and the boat ride. On the final evening, the men had anchored near a beach party. There had been music, drinks, and people dancing barefoot between the sand and the deck after sunset.

They were ordinary vacation stories, but hearing them in her voice made every image vivid.

Her tank top had slipped slightly, revealing the pale edge of a bikini tan line.

“It was hard with you gone,” I admitted.

A knowing smile appeared.

“I bet it was.”

I hesitated.

“Did you get a lot of attention?”

Her smile widened.

“Maybe.”

“The green bikini?”

“The one you haven’t stopped thinking about since I bought it.”

My cock pressed harder against the cage.

She glanced down and laughed quietly.

“You’re still jealous I wouldn’t let you see it in the fitting room, aren’t you?”

“A little.”

“A little?” She stretched lazily. “You’ve been thinking about it the entire time I bet"

“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t show me.”

“Because it was more fun making you imagine it.”

“You never wore anything like that for me.”

“No,” she said softly. “I didn’t.”

“But you wore it around all those people.”

“I wore it every day.”

The admission twisted something in my stomach.

“Every day?”

“Mhm. Everyone loved it.”

She reached over and traced one finger along my thigh, stopping just short of the cage.

“Were you jealous imagining me walking around like that?”

“Yes.”

“Knowing the bottoms barely covered anything?”

I swallowed.

“Yes.”

“Knowing every man behind me could watch my ass jiggle when I walked?”

My cock surged painfully.

She smiled.

“Oh, that one really bothers you.”

“You know it does.”

“I know. That’s why I said it.”

“They got to see you in it, and I didn’t.”

The cage dug sharply into me.

She settled back against the pillows, pleased with the effect she was having.

“That bikini may have helped us get invited onto the boat.”

“The men in the picture?”

“Mhm.”

“Did anything happen?”

She tilted her head.

“What do you count as anything?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

“Did anyone touch you?”

She smiled as though I had finally asked the question she wanted.

“We danced.”

“On the boat?”

“Some on the beach. Some on the deck after dark.”

“With one of those guys?”

“One of them.”

“What kind of dancing?”

“The fun kind.”

“Come on.”

She let the silence stretch.

“He came up behind me.”

“And?”

“I didn’t move away.”

“You let him touch you?”

She gave me an innocent look that was not innocent at all.

“We were dancing. Where do you think his hands were?”

“Your hips?”

“Eventually.”

“What does that mean?”

She laughed softly.

“You’re getting very worked up for someone who wanted details.”

“Just tell me.”

“He started at my waist. Then he slid his hands down, held my hips, and pulled me closer.”

My mouth went dry.

“And you let him?”

“I may have encouraged him.”

“How?”

Her smile turned wicked.

“I leaned back.”

My imagination filled in the rest: the emerald string buried between her cheeks, her bare skin beneath the lights from the boat, another man standing close behind her as she moved against him.

“Could you feel him?”

“What do you think??”

“I want you to say it.”

She leaned closer.

“Yes. I could feel him.”

“He was hard?”

She nodded without looking away.

“And you liked it?”

“I didn’t keep dancing because I hated it.”

The cage bit painfully into me.

Jealousy rose faster than I could control.

“You let some random guy grind against you while you were practically naked?”

Her playful expression faded slightly.

“You were the one begging for details.”

“And you liked it?”

“I think we established that.”

“I was sitting here locked while another man had his hands on you.”

She glanced down at the cage.

“That was part of what made it exciting.”

The admission knocked the breath out of me.

“You thought about me?”

“Of course.” Her teasing smile returned. “I thought about you sitting here unable to get an erection while his was pressed against my ass. I could feel it, it was long... and thick..."

My cock surged again.

“There it is,” she murmured. “You’re acting angry, but your little cage disagrees.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m okay with it.”

“It means you liked the fantasy until you realized I was the one making the decisions.”

“I didn’t expect you to actually do it.”

“Do what? Dance at a beach party?”

“you let him press his cock against you!"

“And? I ground back into him, I liked it"

“And that’s different!.”

She sat up.

“Don’t get mad for telling you the truth after you begged me to.”

“mad?!"

“You’re raising your voice because the fantasy didn’t stay safely inside your head.”

“I was locked here while some guy rubbed himself against you.”

“And yet you’re harder than you’ve been since I walked in.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“No, baby. That is exactly the point.”

The patronizing softness in her voice made my face burn.

My mind had already made the stranger larger than me, thicker, harder, everything I feared she secretly wanted.

“You shouldn’t have let him do that.”

Her amusement disappeared.

“Excuse me? I wanted it”

“I’m your husband.”

“And?”

“You shouldn’t let random men put their hands on you.”

She watched me for several seconds.

Then she reached beneath her tank top and pulled out the thin chain.

The key hung from the end.

Every muscle in my body tightened.

She let it swing between her fingers, watching my eyes follow it with an almost pitying smile.

“You were going to unlock me?”

“I was.”

Relief surged through me.

She brought the key closer, letting it hover just out of reach.

Then she closed her fingers around it.

“But that was before you threw your jealous little temper tantrum.”

The words hit harder because of how sweetly she said them.

“No. Please.”

“Oh, baby.”

She gave me a nearly maternal look.

“You don’t get to raise your voice, interrogate me, and tell me what I’m allowed to do, then expect a reward because you suddenly remembered how badly you want to come. And youre certainley in no postion to tell me who i can or cannot dance with, with your tiny penis locked up in that little cage"

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure you are now.”

She tucked the key beneath her shirt.

“I just got jealous.”

“I noticed.”

“And insecure.”

“Very.”

Her eyes lowered toward the cage.

“And judging by the way that little thing is straining, you enjoyed hearing about it much more than you want to admit.”

“That doesn’t mean I was okay with it.”

“It means you liked the idea until you realized I wasn’t asking permission.”

I lowered my eyes.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice. And interrogating you.”

She waited.

“And for trying to make you feel guilty.”

“And?”

My throat tightened.

“For acting jealous and controlling.”

“There you go.”

She stroked my cheek with the back of her fingers.

“I accept your apology.”

Relief flickered through me.

Then she smiled sweetly.

“But I’m still not unlocking you.”

My cock throbbed against the plastic.

“For how long?”

“Long enough for you to think about your jealous and controlling behaviour.”

The answer frightened and excited me more than a number would have.

She pointed toward the suitcases.

“Now unpack everything and put the dirty clothes in the wash while I take a nap.”

“And later?”

Her gaze moved slowly down my body.

“Later, If you behave, and im in a very good mood, i might let you lick my pussy.”

I placed the first suitcase on the floor and opened it.

The emerald bikini lay directly on top.

The bottoms looked even smaller than they had in the store, little more than three narrow strips of green fabric. They still carried the faint scent of sunscreen, salt water, and her skin.

I lifted them carefully.

She watched from the bed.

“Hand wash those,” she said, pulling the blankets over herself. “I really like that bathing suit. Ill be wearing it again... Just not for you" she said with a giggle.

I stood there holding the thin green string between my fingers, locked, aching, and no longer certain when she intended to let me out.

Update to my previous post

https://www.reddit.com/r/PussyFreeCommunity/s/FDgzqJp8sz

I was initially made aware that I was small after a girl overly giggled at me during a sexual encounter, story for another day.

This led me discovering my love of sph, which led to discovering other fetishises, chastity and cuckolding. Ive always been to shy to open up to my wife about how the thought of her being with some one turns me on, my ego wouldn't let me. She knows I enjoy the denial and control she has, the teasing about her past, and she throws in light pokes about my size, although shes never maliciously or meanly humiliated me.

The other night I finally opened up a bit. Some times we start off our play sessions with my lightly holding a small vibrator on her clit. Ill rub her, we'll make out until shes ready for me to start licking her.

This time I could tell she was very horny, she was writhing and pressing her self into it. I was so turned on. I started a little dirty talk, little things like "does that feel good" "you like that?"

I then asked her "do you miss getting fucked?". She just smiled real big. I asked again "tell me baby, do you miss getting fucked?". "Yes" she said. "By me?" I asked. "No.." "you miss getting fucked by a big dick".

"Yes" she moaned.

My heart was racing. "Thats so fucking hot" I told her. "You want to get fucked by a huge cock?"

"Mmmm yes!" "I want you to get fucked by a huge cock"

We were both so turned on. This is the first time i brought up any overt cucking or her being with another man. I havnt brought it up since, but id like to tell her, out of the moment, that the thought really turns me on.

Like many here, ive fallen into the pussy free lifestyle due to my lack of size and stamina. My wife and i are very actively intimate, I love licking her pussy and using g spot simulators on her. She doesnt get anything out of piv, and it always leaves me feeling anxious and ashamed in her dissapointment. This arrangement has been pretty fullfilling for both of us, the pressure is off of me and she still gets sexual satisfaction without feeling she needs to provide duty sex.

The one thing I struggle with is my wife has never given me a blow job, ever, not once have a been in her mouth. Shes definitely given them before, a lot of them, she has a bit of a wild past before we started dating. When we got together, she told me that its simply something she doesnt want to do. Ive tried asking her again now that im pussy free, but she refuses, insisting its degrading.

What bothers me and also turns me on like crazy, is knowing that shes given blow jobs to so many men before me, she doesnt know the exact number but shes told me at least 30. Her on her knees, sucking off random men, being used, letting them cum in her mouth, but still denies me, her husband who loves her.

I cant stop thinking about it, even more now that we dont have piv sex, im completely denied any kind of penetration. Its humiliating and exillerating.

​

It started as my idea. I told her how much I loved the denial, the way not being allowed to come made everything sharper, how the frustration built into this constant throbbing ache that made me desperate to please her. She did not get it at first. She looked at me with that soft, slightly puzzled expression and said she did not understand why anyone would want less of something that felt good. But she was open. She always had been, once she knew it turned me on.

What neither of us expected was how quickly she would start to enjoy the control.

She noticed the change in me almost immediately. How much more attentive I became. How I started offering to go down on her without being asked. How I would spend long evenings with my face buried between her thighs while she scrolled on her phone or watched something on the tablet. I would lick her slowly at first, long flat strokes from her entrance up to her clit, tasting how wet she got when she knew I was not getting anything in return. Then faster, sucking her swollen clit between my lips while I pushed two fingers inside her, curling them just the way she liked until her hips started rocking against my mouth. The curved G-spot toy changed everything. For the first time I could make her come from penetration, slow deliberate thrusts of that thick silicone cock while I kept my tongue working her clit in tight circles. I would watch her face the whole time. The way her mouth fell open. The flush that spread down her chest. The soft surprised moan when the orgasm finally rolled through her and her pussy clenched hard around the toy. Sometimes she came twice like that before she pushed my head away and told me I was done.

We fell into a rhythm. Most nights I would make her come at least once, sometimes two or three times if she was in the mood. On Saturdays she would usually let me finish. Not inside her. We had not had PIV in months by then. Instead she would sit me on the edge of the bed, take my aching cock in her hand, and stroke me with that deliberate, almost clinical sloweness while she talked.

“You know you are not getting this inside me,” she would say, voice low and amused, thumb smearing the precum already leaking from the tip. “Not tonight. Not this week. Just my hand. That is all you get.”

She would edge me for what felt like forever, tight slow strokes up and down, stopping every time my hips started to jerk, smiling when I whimpered. One night, about three months into the routine, something shifted. She closed her hand completely around me mid-stroke and paused. Both of us looked down at the same time. My entire cock had disappeared inside her closed fist. Nothing left sticking out. Not the head, not even a hint of shaft. Just her fingers wrapped around what looked like nothing at all.

She let out a soft little giggle, almost surprised, and gave a gentle squeeze. “Oh,” she said, still looking at her hand. “I never really noticed that before.”

The realization hit us both in that moment. I have always been insecure about my size. Not quite five inches on my best day, and even less when I am nervous or already worked up. Stamina has never been my strong suit either. I used to finish too fast when we still had regular sex, and the tease and denial only made that worse. Once she started controlling my orgasms I came even quicker, sometimes after just a few strokes of her hand. She has never said it outright, but I can tell she is not really missing PIV. Six months without it and she barely seems to notice. I know it is because of my size and how little time I could ever last inside her. That knowledge sits in the back of my mind every time she locks me up, every time she makes me eat her instead of fucking her. It stings, and it turns me on more than I want to admit.

She kept stroking after that, still smiling, and when she finally let me come it was sudden and messy. A few firm pumps and I spilled across her fingers in thick desperate pulses, cock twitching hard while she kept working me through it until it almost hurt. Then she wiped her hand on my stomach and told me to go clean up.

I never lasted the full week cleanly after that. Some nights the pressure got too much. I would wait until she was asleep, or locked in the bathroom for a long shower, and finish myself off with quick guilty strokes, eyes closed, imagining her mouth, her pussy, anything. The relief was always followed by that hollow drained feeling and the knowledge that I had lied. She never asked directly, but I think she knew. The way she looked at me sometimes, the slight narrowing of her eyes when I claimed I had been good.

That was what finally made me bring up the cage.

I told her the truth one night while she was straddling my face, still dripping from the second orgasm I had given her. I admitted the cheating. I told her I wanted the physical lock because I did not trust myself anymore. She went quiet for a long moment, then reached down and stroked my cheek, her wet pussy still resting against my mouth.

“Okay,” she said. “We will try it.”

The first device was a simple plastic one. She locked me after I came that Saturday, took the key, and wore it on a thin chain around her neck for a few days just to get used to the idea. Short periods at first. Overnight, then a full day, then three. She liked checking on me. She liked the soft helpless sound I made when she cupped the locked cage in her hand and gave it a little squeeze, feeling how my cock tried to swell against the unyielding plastic. She liked how quickly I dropped to my knees when she pointed at the floor, how I would press my face between her legs and eat her until she came, my locked cock throbbing uselessly the whole time.

Three months later the stretches had become easy. A full week without release was normal now. She kept the key. Sometimes she left it on the nightstand where I could see it. Sometimes she hid it. Sometimes she wore it under her clothes so that every time she moved I would catch the faint glint of metal and remember exactly who held the power. My cock stayed soft most of the time now, but the constant low ache of denied arousal never really went away. When she teased me, stroking the cage, grinding against it while she kissed me, or just looking at me with that knowing little smile, it would try to get hard, pressing against the bars until the skin felt tight and sensitive and almost painful. The size of it only made the cage look more ridiculous. Small even when soft, and completely trapped when it tried to swell.

Her confidence grew with every locked day. She had always had a beautiful body. Full hips, a soft round ass that filled out every pair of pants she owned, breasts that sat heavy and perfect in my hands. But she had never been someone who displayed it. That changed. Tighter booty shorts for the gym that rode up between her cheeks when she walked. Sports bras that left the soft undersides of her tits on display. Shorter dresses when she went out with friends. I noticed. Of course I noticed. The anxiety sat low in my stomach every time she left the house looking like that, but the cage made the jealousy feel different. Sharper. More erotic. More hopeless. My cock would twitch and strain against the plastic while I imagined other men looking at her the way I used to before she locked me up.

The night of her last girls’ night she came out of the bedroom in a short tight black dress that barely covered the curve of her ass and dipped low enough in front that the inner slopes of her breasts were on full display. I stared. She saw me staring and smiled, slow and knowing, and stepped closer until I could smell her perfume.

“Considering I have your little penis locked up,” she said, voice almost gentle as she reached down and gave the cage a soft deliberate squeeze, “you are not really in a position to tell me how I can dress.”

The words hit harder than I expected. Little. Locked. Not in a position. Heat flooded my face and my cock tried to swell so hard the plastic bit into the skin. I was hard and humiliated and so turned on I could barely answer. She kissed me on the cheek, told me not to wait up, and left. I spent the rest of the night with my hand pressed against the cage, feeling every useless throb, replaying those words until I was leaking precum onto the sheets.

That was the version of her I kept thinking about when she announced the girls’ trip.

A beach weekend with a group of hot single women. She would be gone for three days. Before she left she said she needed a new bathing suit. We went shopping together. I expected something modest, something she would wear once and forget. Instead she chose a T-bar thong bikini in a deep emerald green that left almost nothing to the imagination. The bottoms were a thin strip of fabric that would disappear between her cheeks. The top was two small triangles held by delicate strings that would barely contain her breasts.

She took it into the fitting room. I stood outside the door, already half hard in the cage, listening to the rustle of fabric as she stripped and pulled the tiny suit on.

“It looks really hot on me,” she called through the door, voice light with laughter. I could hear the smile in it. “The bottoms are basically just a string up my ass. My tits look amazing in the top.”

“Let me see,” I said, voice already rough.

“No.” Just that. One word, followed by a soft giggle. She came out a few minutes later with the suit in a bag and a private little smile that told me everything. My cock was straining so hard against the cage that it hurt, a dull constant pressure that made it hard to think about anything else.

She had promised I could come before she left. Last night. A slow handjob, maybe, or her mouth if I was very lucky, though she had never given me that, not once in all our years together. She used to do it for her ex all the time. She had told me that early on, almost casually. She was tired of it, did not want to do it anymore. The knowledge had always sat between us like a quiet ache. Jealousy. Frustration. The knowledge that someone else had gotten something from her that I never would. I used to imagine it sometimes when I was locked, her on her knees for him, taking his cock into her mouth the way she had never taken mine, and the mix of humiliation and arousal was almost too much.

But last night never happened.

She left a day early while I was still at work.

When I walked through the door the house was quiet. The key was gone. On the kitchen counter was a single folded note in her handwriting.

Sorry, baby. I left a day early. Try not to think about me at the beach in my new bathing suit. Love you.

I stood there for a long time, reading the words over and over. Eight days locked. No release in sight. My wife on a beach somewhere in a barely there thong bikini, surrounded by single friends, knowing exactly what the image would do to me.

My cock strained against the cage until the plastic bit into the skin. Precum had already started to leak from the tip, sticky against the inside. My stomach was tight with a mix of jealousy and arousal so intense it almost hurt. I could picture her perfectly. The way the thin green fabric would sit high on her hips. The way the T-string would disappear between the soft cheeks of her ass when she walked. The way the tiny top would strain against her breasts when she moved. The way men would look. The way she might notice them looking and do nothing to discourage it. Maybe even smile.

I pressed my palm hard against the locked plastic and closed my eyes, feeling every useless throb of my denied cock.

I was so horny it bordered on pain. So frustrated I could barely think. And underneath all of it was the same dark aching thrill that had started this whole thing months ago.

I loved it.

I could not wait to see where she would take it next.

My wife and I recently started experimenting with chastity after a few months of tease and denial play.

It was originally my idea. I explained how I liked being denied, not being allowed to cum, and sometimes being refused piv altogether. She didn’t really understand the appeal at first, but she was open to trying it because she knew it turned me on.

What surprised me was how quickly she started enjoying it herself.

She liked having control over when or whether I was allowed to cum, and she definitely noticed how much more attentive and eager to please i was. I started eating her pussy much more regularly, and we also bought a curved G spot toy. Using it was the first time I had ever been able to make her orgasm from any kind of penetration.

For a while, we settled into a routine where I would make her cum several times throughout the week, and she would usually let me finish on Saturday. Most of the time she would give me a very slow, drawn out hand job while teasing me about the fact that I wasn’t allowed to fuck her.

We haven’t had piv sex in about six months now, and honestly, she doesn’t seem to miss it very much. That’s difficult for me to admit, but I get ut. I’ve always been insecure about my size and stamina, and the senial dynamic has made me cum even faster.

she has never given me a blow job. When we started dating, she told me that she doesnt do that. She used to give them to her ex all the time and she was tired of it.

I know it’s her choice, but hearing that has always bothered me. The fact that she willingly did it for someone before me, but has never wanted to do it with me, causes a lot of jealousy and frustration.

Often I couldnt last the week, I would tell her I had waited all week, but sometimes I would masturbate without admitting it. Afterwards, I would feel drained and guilty, especially because I knew I was being dishonest with her.

Thats what led me to bring up an actual chastity device.

I told her that I had been breaking the rules and told her I thought being physically locked might help keep me honest. The idea was that she would keep the keys and lock me whenever she was away or whenever she didn’t trust me to control myself.

We’ve been doing that for about three months now. At first, it was only short periods, but now weve gotten up to one week stretches easily.

Since we started, she has become noticeably more confident about teasing me.

She has always had a great body, but she was never someone who showed it off. Now, shes started wearing tighter booty shorts and sports bras to the gym, along with shorter dresses when she goes out.

On her last girls’ night, she wore a short, tight dress that barely covered her ass and showed a lot of cleavage. It made me uncomfortable, anxious and extremly jealous. It felt obvious that she knew she would get attention wearing it.

When I said something, she looked at me and said, “Considering I have your little penis locked up, you’re not really in a position to tell me how I can dress.”

Ive never been so humiliated, felt so small and so turned on all at once.

That brings me to what’s happening now.

Shes currently away on a girls’ trip, with a bunch of hot single women, which is hard enough. I’m still locked, and I haven’t cum in eight days.

Before the trip, we went shopping because she said she needed a new bathing suit. To my surprise, she chose a very skimpy T bar thong bikini. She has never worn anything like that before, so at first I assumed she was only picking it up to tease me.

She took it into the fitting room and told me through the door that it looked really hot on her.

I asked her to let me see it.

She just said, “No,” and started laughing.

She had originally told me she would let me cum before she left. She was supposed to leave this morning, so the plan was that she would make me cum last night

Instead, she left yesterday while I was still at work.

When I got home, she was already gone. The key was gone with her, and she had left a note on the counter:

“Sorry, baby. I left a day early. Try not to think about me at the beach in my new bathing suit. Love you"

Im so horny and frustrated right now, thinking about her, what shes wearing and what shes doing. My stomach is in knots.

But honestly, I love it and I cant wait to see where this goes.

Not sure where to begin. Been with my wife now for 6 years, married for 2, unofficially pussy free for about 8 months. We never discussed it, it just kind of happened.

Our sex life has never been stellar, ive always been a little insecure about her satisfaction due to my PE, and although im not tiny, definately below average at just under 5". Ive always done my absolute best to keep her satisfied, always making her cum with my tongue. But piv sex as usually been quick and without much reaction from her.

A year ago I bought a curved toy to hit her g spot. Its the first time that I made her cum from any kind of penetration. Ive never heard her make noises like that before, it was the hottest thing ive ever heard. From that point piv sex started tapering off. Our intimacy would consist of my licking her pussy until she cums, using the toy on her until she cums then she would give me an enthusiastic hand job until I cum.

When we first started with the toy, she would let me finish inside of her but that stopped, she would tell me its too sensitive and uncomfortable. If I tried to initiate penetration straight away, she would sweetly tell me "baby use the toy", I couldnt say no.

BJs were always off the table, shes never given me one, when we started dating she told me that she doesnt want to do that, she had to give them to her ex all the time and she was tired of it. Knowing that theres something that shes given other men, but not me, drives me crazy with jealousy and insecurity.

So as our sex live started focusing on her pleasure, I noticed a growing confidence in her and growing insecurity in me. Not penetrating my wife has made me feel less manly. I dont know if its a coincidence, but shes started hitting the gym more, her body is hotter than every and shes not shy about showing it off.

I made a comment once about a shorts and sports bra combo she was wearing out to the gym, i was confortable with her showing cleavage like that, she plainly told me to stop, and that was the end of it.

She has a trip coming up with some girls and went bathing suit shopping. She bought a tiny thong bikini, shes never worn one of those ever. I couldnt take it, I didnt handle it calmly. I erupted about her wanting to show off her body and how shes never worn something like that for me. She basically told me that its not her fault that im insecure and that I have to deal with it. I had nothing to say, no power or pull.

Thinking of my gorgeous wife, wearing that bikini for others to see while I havnt fucked her in almost a year is driving me crazy with jealousy but also turning me on and im not sure how to handle this.