Locked for our future PT 12
The morning light filtering through the curtains was soft and golden, but Jake woke to the same familiar pressure that had become his constant companion. The cage was tight against his morning erection, the steel unforgiving as his body tried to expand in sleep. He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to will his arousal down before the discomfort became pain.
Beside him, Emma stirred, stretching languidly, her body arching beneath the sheets. When she rolled toward him, her hand found his chest, her palm warm and soft against his skin.
"Morning, sleepyhead," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep and affection. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then his neck, her lips trailing up to his jaw. "How did you sleep?"
"Okay," Jake managed, though the truth was he'd woken several times, his body aching, his mind racing with images from the day before, the demonstration, Nurse Sarah's expert hands, the thirty minutes of edging that had left him shattered.
Emma's hand drifted lower, her fingers tracing the waistband of his pajama pants. "Dr. Grant said we should start the sessions first thing," she reminded him gently, her touch light and teasing. "to get your levels higher."
Jake nodded, his throat tight. He knew what was coming, knew the torment that awaited, but Emma's expression was so loving, so filled with gentle concern, that he found himself nodding despite the dread pooling in his stomach.
"Okay," he muttered.
Emma smiled, that warm, radiant smile that had first made him fall in love with her. She climbed out of bed, her nightgown falling to mid-thigh, and retrieved the key from her necklace. The key glinted in the light as she unlocked the cage, her movements careful and deliberate.
The release was immediate and overwhelming. Jake gasped as the steel fell away, his erection springing free, already hard and aching. Emma set the cage aside and wrapped her hand around him, her touch light as her fingers danced across his exposed skin.
"Fifteen minutes," she said softly, settling back onto the bed beside him. "We'll do the second half tonight after we get ready for bed. Dr. Grant said consistency is important."
Her hand began to move, slow and steady, using the technique Sarah had taught her, the twisting motion, the perfect pressure. Jake's head fell back against the pillow, his eyes closing as sensation flooded through him. After weeks of nothing but the cage's cruel restriction, the feel of her bare palm against his skin was almost too much.
"That's it," Emma cooed, her voice warm with encouragement. "Just relax, honey. Let me take care of you."
She stroked him with practiced precision, bringing him steadily toward the edge. Jake's hips began to move involuntarily, thrusting into her grip, seeking the friction he needed to tip over. But Emma was attentive, watching his face, reading the signs. When his breathing grew ragged, when his thighs began to tremble, she eased off, her grip loosening, her strokes becoming light and teasing.
"No," Jake whimpered, his hands fisting in the sheets. "Please, Em, don't stop…"
"Shhh," she quieted him, her free hand stroking his chest, his stomach, anywhere to maintain contact. "I know it's hard. I know. But we have to do this right..."
She brought him to the brink again and again, each time backing off at the last moment, leaving him hovering in a state of agonizing anticipation. Jake was babbling, pleading, tears pricking at his eyes, but Emma's expression never changed, she was focused, determined, her brow furrowed in concentration as she followed the nurses instructions to the letter.
At one point, she reached for her phone, which she'd left on the nightstand, and glanced at the screen while her hand continued its slow, maddening rhythm.
"About the catalog Dr. Grant sent last night…," she said, her voice distracted but pleased. "I've been looking through it. Some of these men have such impressive credentials, Jake. It really gives me hope."
She turned the phone toward him, showing him a photo of a man with dark hair and a chiseled jaw, some kind of professional headshot. The man was smiling confidently, and below his picture were statistics and measurements.
Jake felt a familiar lurch in his stomach. Even now, even with her hand on him, she was thinking about the donors.
"Emma," he whimpered, his hips bucking. "Please, I can't… I need…"
"I know what you need," she said softly, setting the phone aside and turning her full attention back to him. Her hand sped up, her grip tightening, and Jake felt himself racing toward the edge. "But what you need and what's good for you aren't the same thing right now. Jake, Trust that I'm doing this for us."
She held him there, right on the precipice, her hand perfectly still, gripping him just tightly enough to maintain the pressure. Jake's vision blurred, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding back.
"Good boy," she whispered, her eyes locked on his, filled with warmth and pride. "You're doing so good for me. So strong."
Finally, just as he thought he might actually break, Emma's hand withdrew.
"No," he gasped, reaching for her, but she was already moving, already reaching for the cage.
"Fifteen minutes," she said gently, her voice apologetic but firm. "That's what Dr. Grant prescribed for the morning session. We'll finish tonight."
She fitted the steel back onto his aching, desperate erection. His cock was still hard, still throbbing, and the sensation of confinement was devastating. The bars pressed into his swollen flesh, turning his arousal into genuine discomfort.
Emma worked quickly, securing the lock with a soft click. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the tip of the cage, her lips warmth slipping through the gaps in the metal bars.
"There," she said, patting the cage affectionately. "All secure."
She climbed out of bed and stretched, her nightgown riding up her thighs. "I'm going to shower and get ready for the day. Want me to make coffee?"
Jake could only nod, his chest heaving, his body still trembling with denied need.
Emma paused at the bedroom door, looking back at him with that warm, loving smile. "I know it's hard, honey. But think about why we're doing this. Think about our baby."
She disappeared into the bathroom, and Jake heard the shower start. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm his racing heart. As the water continued to run his imagination could only return to imagining Emma in the shower deepening his frustrations.
The morning passed in a blur. Emma hummed as she moved through the house, getting ready for the day, her mood light and cheerful. She'd left the donor catalog open on her phone on the kitchen counter, and Jake caught glimpses of it as he made his own coffee, photos of handsome men, statistics about height and weight and sperm count.
"Isn't it exciting?" Emma said, breezing into the kitchen ready for today, a modest blouse and skirt that somehow still managed to cling to her curves. She picked up her phone and scrolled through the catalog, her eyes bright. "Dr. Grant really vetted these men carefully. They're all so… qualified."
Jake said nothing, sipping his coffee.
Emma looked up at him, her expression softening. She set her phone down and crossed to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I know this is weird for you," she said softly, her voice filled with empathy. "I know it's not how we imagined things. But we're going to get through it together. We're going to have our family."
She pressed a kiss to his cheek, then his lips, her mouth warm and soft. "I love you, Jake. So much."
"I love you too," he managed.
"I know," she whispered. "And that's why you're going to keep being strong. For me. For us."
She pulled back, her smile returning. "Now, what is on the agenda for today hun? Don’t forget tonight, we need to finish your session. So we cant be out too late." With a small laugh
He was still in his sweatpants and t-shirt, when the doorbell rang.
Jake checked his phone—almost ten o'clock. Emma gave him a look that asked him to see who it is. He shuffled to the door, the cage shifting with each step, and opened it to find Ashley standing on the porch.
She was wearing a sundress that was slightly too short for office wear, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun, her arms full of manila folders and file boxes. When she saw him, her face lit up with a bright, friendly smile.
"Mr. Peterson! Hi!" she said, her voice cheerful. "I'm so sorry to bother you at home, but these files needed to be reviewed by Monday, and since its so important, I thought I'd bring them by."
She shifted her weight, and the top box began to slide. Ashley made a grab for it, her arms flailing, and Jake instinctively stepped forward to help. The movement was a mistake. His still-sensitive, caged groin brushed against the doorframe, and he let out a sharp hiss of pain.
"Oh no, are you okay?" Ashley asked, her eyes wide with genuine concern. She lurched forward, trying to steady herself, and one of her sandaled feet caught on the welcome mat. She stumbled directly into Jake's chest, her files scattering across the porch, her hands landing on his shoulders for balance.
The impact drove Jake back against the doorframe, and Ashley followed, pressed against him in a tangle of limbs and papers. She was soft and warm, and Jake's traitorous body responded instantly, his cock straining against the cage with fresh, agonizing urgency.
"I am so sorry," Ashley breathed, not moving away immediately. Her hands remained on his shoulders, her face inches from his, her blue eyes wide and earnest. "I'm such a klutz, I swear. Are you hurt? You made a sound like you were hurt."
"I'm fine," Jake managed, his voice strangled. He tried to step sideways, to create space between them, but Ashley was still off-balance, still clinging to him.
"Let me help you," came Emma's voice from behind him, warm and friendly.
Jake didn’t heard her come from behind, but now she was there, standing with a expression that came off as pleasant, Jake was terrified at the implication that the scene before her might come off as.
"Ashley, right?" Emma said, her voice bright and welcoming. "From Jake's office?"
"Yes, Mrs. Peterson," Ashley said, finally releasing Jake and bending down to gather her scattered files. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…"
"It's no trouble at all," Emma said, Helping Ashley up. She placed a hand on Jake's back, her fingers trailing down to rest just above his waistband in a gesture that felt supportive and intimate at once. "Are you okay, honey? You look flushed."
"I'm fine," Jake managed.
"Why don't you come in?" Emma continued, turning her attention to Ashley. Her voice was inviting, the way she might speak to a friend. "You must be exhausted, carrying all those files. And you came all this way. Let me make you some coffee."
"Are you sure? I don't want to impose…"
"Nonsense," Emma said, stepping aside and gesturing into the house. "We'd love the company. Wouldn't we, Jake?"
She guided them inside, her hand finding the small of Jake's back again, propelling him forward. Jake moved awkwardly, trying to keep distance between himself and Ashley, trying to hide the bulge in his sweatpants.
"Come on," Emma urged, her voice light. "Let's get comfortable."
"Sit, sit," Emma urged, guiding Ashley toward the couch. "Jake, why don't you sit next to Ashley? Help her organize those files. I'll bring coffee."
She disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of the coffee maker gurgling filling the silence.
Ashley settled onto the couch, arranging her files on the cushion beside her. She looked up at Jake expectantly. "Are you going to sit?"
Jake hesitated, but Emma emerged from the kitchen with two mugs, then returned for a third. "Don't be rude, Jake," she called over her shoulder, her voice teasing but warm. "Ashley came all this way. Sit with her."
There was no escape. Jake lowered himself onto the couch, keeping as much distance as possible between himself and Ashley, but the cushions were soft, and as he sat, he sank toward the center. Ashley immediately shifted, crossing her legs, her knee bumping against his thigh.
"Here we are," Emma said, setting the tray on the coffee table. She handed Ashley a mug first, her smile warm and welcoming. "Cream and sugar?"
"Just black is fine," Ashley said, accepting the cup. "Thank you, Mrs…."
"Emma, please," his wife insisted, settling into the armchair across from them. She sipped her coffee. "We're all friends here. Isn't that right, Jake?"
"Right," Jake muttered.
Ashley set her mug down and began sorting through the files. She reached across Jake for a folder that had slid toward his end of the couch, her body leaning over his lap, her hair falling forward to brush against his thigh. She stayed there for a moment, her hand resting on his knee for balance.
"I think this one goes first," she murmured.
Jake froze, his hands gripping the couch cushions. He could feel Emma's eyes on him, could sense her attention even as she pretended to be absorbed her phone.
Ashley finally straightened up, turning her body toward Jake, tucking one leg beneath her, which brought her knee even closer to his groin. "So, Jake, how's your... project coming along? The one you've been so stressed about?"
Jake blinked, confused. "Project?"
"You know," Ashley said, her eyes dropping to his lap, then back up to his face. Her expression was innocent, but there was something in her gaze that left Jake unsettled. "The thing that's been keeping you so tense. The reason you've been so... distracted at work."
She knows, Jake thought suddenly. She knows about the cage.
But Ashley's expression gave nothing away. She looked genuinely curious, her head tilted slightly, her smile friendly and open.
"Jake has been very dedicated," Emma interjected, looking up from her coffee with a proud smile. "Very committed. He's been following a strict regimen." She turned to Ashley, her expression earnest. "You should see how disciplined he is. It's really inspiring."
"Oh?" Ashley's lips curved into a small smile. "He always does seem so... restrained. So careful." She crossed the space between them, settling onto the couch armrest beside Ashley, leaning in close. "Actually, Ashley, you're young, you probably have better intuition about these things. What do you think of this?"
She showed Ashley her phone, and Jake saw the donor catalog open on the screen.
Ashley took the phone, her fingers brushing Emma's. "What is it? Some kind of... dating app?"
"Something like that," Emma said, her voice light and casual. "We're looking for someone. For a friend of ours."
She didn't explain further, and Ashley didn't ask. Instead, Ashley scrolled through the photos, her eyes widening. "Oh wow," she breathed. "These men are... very handsome."
"Impressive, aren't they?" Emma said, her hand resting on Ashley's shoulder, her other hand dropping to play with a strand of Jake's hair. "Look at this one. A firefighter. Strong. Reliable."
"Amazing," Ashley agreed, scrolling down. "And this one? The swimmer?"
"Oh, I liked him too," Emma said, her fingers trailing from Jake's hair down to his neck. "Great stamina, apparently. Very... enduring." She turned to Ashley. "Would you mind grabbing that folder from the floor? I think it looks important and slid under the coffee table."
"Of course," Ashley said, handing the phone back to Emma. She turned, bending forward at the waist, her dress riding up in the back. She stayed in that position for a long moment, her hands patting the floor.
Jake looked away, his face burning, but Emma's hand on his shoulder tightened.
When Ashley straightened up, folder in hand, she turned, her face perfectly innocent. "Did I miss something?"
"Not at all," Emma said, her voice returning to its normal volume. She stood, moving back to the armchair. "Ashley, I hope you don't think I'm being too forward, but I really like you. You seem like such a sweet girl. We should get together sometime, just us girls. Coffee, or shopping?"
Ashley's face lit up. "I'd love that, Mrs…. Emma. That would be so fun."
"I think so too," Emma said, her smile genuine and warm. "It's nice to have friends who understand. Who are supportive."
She glanced at Jake, her expression softening. "Jake's lucky to have such a helpful assistant. Someone so... willing to go the extra mile."
Ashley stood, smoothing her dress down. "Well, I should probably get going. But thank you so much for the coffee, Emma. And for being so welcoming."
She moved toward the door, her hips swaying, and paused at the threshold. "It was lovely seeing you both. Emma, I'd love to get together soon. And Jake…" she turned, her eyes meeting his, "….feel better soon. Whatever's got you so... tense."
She slipped out the door. Jake heard her footsteps retreating down the porch, then the crunch of gravel as she walked to her car.
"She's sweet," Emma said, her hand still resting on his shoulder. "Very... eager. I like her."
"She knows," Jake said, his voice hollow. "Emma, she knows. About the cage."
"Does she?" Emma asked, her tone unconcerned. She moved to the window to watch Ashley's car pull away. "Even if she suspects something, what does it matter? She's just being friendly. Helpful." She turned back to face him, her expression softening. "Besides, we have other things to focus on right now."
She crossed the room and settled onto his lap, her weight pressing down on his caged groin. Jake gasped, his hands coming up to grip her hips instinctively.
"We need to finish your session," she said softly, her fingers tracing his jawline. "The second fifteen minutes. Dr. Grant said thirty minutes total, and we only did fifteen this morning."
Jake shook his head, his hands tightening on her waist. "Emma, no. I can't. Not after... not with her just... I'm too..."
"Too what?" Emma asked, her eyes searching his, filled with concern. "Too aroused? Too frustrated?"
"Yes," he admitted. "Please, Emma, I need a break. Just an hour. Just—"
"Shhh," she quieted him, pressing a finger to his lips. Her expression was so tender, so worried, that it made his chest ache. "I know it's hard, Jake. I know. But Dr. Grant was very clear. Consistency is what helps your numbers improve." She cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing over his skin. "If we skip it, if we wait, we might lose the progress we've made. Do you want that?"
Jake shook his head, unable to speak.
"Then be strong," she whispered. "For me. For us. Just fifteen more minutes, and then you can rest. I promise."
Her fingers worked at the waistband of his pants, pulling them down enough to expose the cage. She ran her finger along the bars, and Jake felt his resolve crumbling.
"Good boy," she cooed, reaching for the key on her necklace. "Let's get you unlocked. We need to finish what we started."
The click of the lock seemed louder this time. Emma lifted the cage away, and Jake's erection sprang free, already hard, already aching. She wrapped her hand around him, her grip firm and sure, and began to stroke.
"Fifteen minutes," she repeated, her other hand cupping his cheek. "And this time, I'm going to be extra careful. I want to make sure we do this exactly right."
Jake closed his eyes, and surrendered to the torment.
The fifteen minutes that followed were an eternity of exquisite torture. Emma was true to her word—she was careful, attentive, focused on doing exactly as Dr. Grant had instructed. She brought him to the edge with practiced precision, her hand moving in the twisting motion Sarah had taught her, her thumb finding the sensitive ridge beneath the head with devastating accuracy.
She watched his face with intense concentration, her eyes tracking every twitch, every gasp, and every twitch. When he got too close, she backed off, her grip loosening, her strokes becoming non existant until she could start again.
"That's it," she whispered, her voice warm with encouragement. "Good. You're doing so good for me."
She varied her technique, alternating between the firm, twisting strokes and light, teasing caresses that made him whine and thrash. At one point, she used both hands, one stroking his shaft while the other cupped and rolled his balls, which were drawn up tight against his body.
"Dr. Grant said this helps," she murmured, her fingers gently massaging. "Keeping everything stimulated, building up the pressure. Can you feel it, Jake? Can you feel how full you are?"
Jake could only moan in response, his head lolling back against the couch. He was babbling, a stream of incoherent pleas and promises. He would have done anything, agreed to anything, for just one more stroke, for the permission to finally let go.
"I know," Emma soothed, her voice filled with sympathy. "I know it hurts. But think about why we're doing this. Think about our baby."
She held him on the edge for what felt like an eternity, her hand perfectly still, gripping him just tightly enough to maintain the pressure. Jake's vision blurred, his mouth opening and closing as nothing tangible could escape him.
"Please," he sobbed, the word breaking apart. "Emma, please, I love you, please…"
"I know you do," she said softly, and her expression was filled with nothing but genuine tenderness. "That's why you're being so good. That's why you're going to hold it. For me. For us."
She brought him to the brink one final time, her hand moving with purpose, her grip tight and sure. Jake felt the orgasm building, the pressure reaching an unbearable peak, his entire body tensing as he teetered on the edge of release.
And then, just as the first contraction was about to start, Emma's hand withdrew.
"No," he gasped, reaching for her, but she was already moving, already reaching for the cage where it sat on the coffee table.
"Fifteen minutes," she said, her voice gentle but firm.
Jake watched through blurred eyes as she fitted the steel cage back onto his aching, desperate erection. His cock was still hard, still throbbing, and the sensation of confinement was devastating. The bars pressed into his swollen flesh, turning his unsatisfied arousal into genuine discomfort.
Emma worked carefully, her movements precise and deliberate, ensuring the cage was secure. The lock clicked shut with a finality that made him whimper.
"You did so well," she said, turning to him with a smile. "I'm really proud of you, Jake. I know that was hard."
Jake lay against the couch, his chest heaving, his body slick with sweat. The aftershocks of the denied orgasm made his entire body twitch involuntarily.
Emma set her coffee down and picked up her phone, scrolling through the donor catalog again. "Even Ashley thought these men really are impressive," she said, her voice thoughtful. "I think I'm going to schedule a few appointments for next week."
Jake closed his eyes, unable to look at her.
"Don't be upset," Emma said, her voice soft. She set her phone down and curled against his side, her head resting on his shoulder. Her hand found his, her fingers intertwining with his. "I know this is difficult. I know it's not what we imagined when we got married. But we're going to get through it together. We're going to have our family."
She pressed a kiss to his neck, her lips warm and soft. "I love you, Jake. So much. Everything I'm doing, everything I'm asking you to do it's because I love you. Because I want our future."
Jake felt the familiar conflict tearing at him, the love he felt for her, the gratitude for her tenderness, warring with the frustration and humiliation of his situation. He wanted to be angry, wanted to point out the contradictions, the way she could be so loving while causing him such torment. But her warmth against his side, the genuine affection in her voice, disarmed him.
"I love you too," he managed, his voice hoarse.
"I know," she whispered.
She stayed curled against him for a long moment, her hand resting on his chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles. Then she sat up, her expression brightening.
"Now, how about some lunch? I'm starving. And then you should probably go over those files Ashley brought, and to make sure everything is ready for Monday."
She stood, stretching, her blouse pulling tight across her chest. Jake's eyes followed her automatically, his caged cock throbbing in response.
Emma noticed his gaze and smiled, a warm, affectionate smile. "Later," she said softly. "After you've had time to rest. We have all weekend to continue your treatment."
She turned and walked toward the kitchen, her hips swaying gently, the key on her necklace catching the light.
Jake sat alone in the living room, the weight of the cage a constant reminder of his predicament. He could hear Emma humming in the kitchen, the sound cheerful and carefree.
He thought about Ashley's knowing gaze, the way she'd pressed against him, the offer in her eyes. He thought about Emma's gentle cruelty, the way she wielded love like a weapon, disarming his anger with tenderness. He thought about the new friendship blooming between Emma and Ashley—two women who understood, who were supportive.
And he thought about the months ahead, the endless cycle of edging and denial, the donors Emma would take into her body while he remained locked in steel.
The psychological torment was almost worse than the physical. Almost.
Jake stood slowly, the cage shifting with the movement, and made his way toward the kitchen. Toward Emma. Toward the only future he had left.