“This is…?” says A.
“Your birthday present!”
A. had just opened the small box. “And why would you think I’d want this?”
“I thought it might be fun to try it.”
“A… chastity cage?” A. turns it in his hand. “Fun?”
“Yeah, maybe enliven things a little.” M. pauses, looks directly at his partner. “OK, you know, after a few years things have slowed down a bit.”
“Maybe you could say that.” A. looks back down at the object. “But this?”
“Yeah, I thought,” putting his hand against M.’s neck, “this might be a way to get them, you know, going again.”
“You thought that if I wore this our sex would be better?” A. looks at M. incredulously. “More frequent?”
“I don’t know, maybe it would be more like a game, like playing.” M. takes the device from A. with his right hand and puts his left hand on his shoulder. “I thought you could, like, decide who wears it and for how long.” M. looks intently at his partner. “You could wear it, then I could. Or whatever. You decide.”
“I decide?”
“I’m not forcing you to do anything. You don’t want to use it, we don’t use it. It’s up to you.”
“So the gift,” A. says slowly, “isn’t just this, but the power to decide how we use it.”
“Exactly. And I thought maybe we’d get more reinvested in sex with each other.”
“By not having sex.”
“By experimenting, by playing with denial, being more deliberate about it, being more in control… if you know what I mean.”
“Control?”
“As a form of sex, yeah.”
“You want to control me with sex?”
“I don’t want to control you. I want us to explore the dynamics of our relationship. Maybe we could make it better by playing with control, with power.”
“Power? Come on, you’re the one who makes most of the decisions, about restaurants, movies, vacations.”
“Me? I don’t know about that. I might decide, but you’re the one who gets his way.” They’re both silent for a moment, then M. continues: “Maybe we could play with that, you know, see where we stand, mix things up.”
A. puts his finger on the device in M.’s hand. “And have you tried one of these before?”
“I haven’t. But I’ve, you know, read about them.” M. pauses. “On the internet, like one does, right?”
“Ah, right.” A. takes it from M.’s hand and holds it up. “This seems small. You really think either of us will fit?”
“I think so, yeah. We’re about the same size. It’s supposed to fit when you’re, you know, going about your daily business. Not when you fully erect.”
A. is eying the device closely from multiple angles. “It looks pretty tight.”
“Well, it’s supposed to be snug. The constriction is part of the appeal.” A. contracts his face. M quickly adds: “Part of the effect. Whoever gets their cock locked is supposed to feel that.”
“That’s sexy?” A. wonders. “No touching yourself, no getting off, no pleasure?”
“It’s not about what you don’t have. It’s about what you get.”
“And what’s that? Endless frustration?”
“No, a constant connection to your partner. The person who’s locked isn’t denied sex – well, of course they’re denied sex – as much as they’re always reminded about who who’s controlling their dick.” M. slides his hand over A.’s crotch. He bends in and whispers: “It’d be like I was constantly fondling you.”
“And the person who’s not wearing it, what’s he get?”
“I don’t know, maybe the fantasy that his lover is constantly horny for him, maybe something else. Think about it.”
“Ah hah.” A. seems like he’s about to continue, then falters.
M. draws closer, takes the cage from his partner and puts it aside, then kisses him. “Happy birthday, lover.” They embrace and kiss more deeply.
After a minute M. pulls back. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?”
“I love my hot boyfriend.”
“No, I mean the cage.” He reaches down again to A.’s crotch. “It’s making you hard.”
“Yeah,” he grins, “I’m kinda turned on.”
“But by which? Putting it on me or wearing it yourself?”
“They both could be… interesting. But I told you, it’s up to you. I’ll wear it if you want, or I’ll put it on you.”
“And you’ll hold to keys.”
“For as long as you decide. Or you will.”
M. is silent for a moment. “This seems like a dangerous game you’re proposing.”
“There might be some risk.” A smiles at his partner. “But that’s part of the pleasure. Sex without risk is just masturbation.”
M. sits back and raises his thumb to his mouth. He sticks the thumbnail between his two front teeth. He keeps looking at A, almost squinting. As the silence gets longer, A. finally says: “What are you thinking?”
M. slowly shakes his head. He pulls his thumb away from his face, leans back, and cocks his head. A. again: “No, nothing?”
M. puts one arm over the back of the sofa and crosses his legs. Then flatly: “Take your clothes off.”
“My clothes?”
“It’s my birthday. Take your clothes off.”
M. gets up unhurriedly, staring intently at A. as he does. “It is your birthday.” He grabs the bottom hem of his shirt and peels it up over his head. He locks eyes with his partner again before tossing it off to the side. Then he balances on his right foot as he pries off his left shoe with his shin, kicking it off. Then the other just as slowly. He looks at A. with an indeterminate expression. Moving deliberately he puts his thumbs in the waistband of his joggers. He hesitates. A. has been taking all this in, but his face betrays no reaction. M. pushes the waistband down, past his pelvis, past his thighs (he’s bending over now, no longer looking at A.), past his knees, past his calves. Balancing he sloughs them off first one leg then the other, kicking them to the side. He stands back up, now almost naked. He looks at A. and raises his eyebrows. A. nods slightly and M. strips off his underwear. He opens his arms, fully exposing himself.
“Happy birthday, mister president.”
A. leans back slightly, hesitating, then: “The socks too.”
“Quite a stickler,” M. says, taking these off and tossing them away.
A. smiles broadly. “Come here you beautiful man.”
M. steps towards his seated partner who leans forward and puts his hands on his bare hips. “Fuck,” A. says slowly, “you are so hot.” His hands remain still though his eyes rake up and down his lover’s body. “And you’re telling me that you’re willing to let this magnificent dick” – which A. is now cradling in his right hand – “get locked in that ugly black cage for a day?”
“If you want,” M. says with a small gasp, responding to A.’s touch. “Though a day doesn’t seem like a very long time.”
“No?” A. is gently caressing M.’s dick with his thumb. It’s getting harder.
M. exhales sharply. “I’m not sure a single day is enough for either partner to fully experience the situation.”
“Really?” A. speaks quietly. He’s moved his left hand to cup M.’s balls.
“I think it takes a little time to adjust” – small wheezes punctuate his words – “to the reality of being controlled like that.”
“I suppose the one in charge also has to get used to his position of control,” A. says gripping M.’s balls, massaging his dick. “How long do you think all of that would take?”
“A couple days” – M. bites his lower lip – “maybe a few.”
“So a week. I could lock you up for a week.”
“I guess.” M. has put his hands on his lover’s shoulders to brace himself. “I mean,” gasping, “that might be a little long.”
“But the terms of your offer would allow it.” A continues to stroke him. “You said as long as I want.”
M. grunts in response to A.’s manipulations, more than once. “I did say that.” He smiles. “So, yes, you could lock me for a week. If you wanted.”
A. releases his hold, spits in his hand, and licks his thumb. “In fact I could lock you for a month.” He’s grabbed M.’s cock again and is swirling his thumb around its tip. “That would be allowed under the terms of your gift.”
“Fuck.” He’s clutching his shoulders, digging his fingers in. “Fuck…. A month” – he’s panting – “that’s too… long. I couldn’t…”.
“But the terms of your offer,” A. is speaking very deliberately, “would allow it, wouldn’t they?”
“I… I…”
“You specified as long as I wanted?”
“I… guess… yes.”
“In fact, I could keep the cage on you for, hypothetically speaking, a year.” M. tries to push back but A. pulls him closer, clinching his fingers around his balls.
“What the fuck?” M. gasps out quickly. “Why would you want to lock away my dick for a year?”
“I’m talking about what you offered, the terms.” A. has stopped fondling but he’s still grabbing. “There was no time limit was there?”
“Not an exact number of days,” M. says rapidly, “but this wasn’t like a legal contract.” He pauses, breathes. “My idea was that this would enhance our relationship, you know, make the sex better. Not put an end to it.”
“Didn’t you just tell me this cage was a way of extending sex, making it ubiquitous?”
“I certainly didn’t say ubiquitous.”
“But it would be like I had your cock in my hand” – M. is doing what he’s saying – “all the time, like when you go about your day, I’d have a firm, unrelenting grip” – which he’s demonstrating – “like this was mine, not yours” – with his other hand over A.’s shoulder, he’s pulled him closer and now is growling straight into his ear – “like I keep you locked, all the time” – his tongue grazes his ear – “for as along as I want, indefinitely, like you’re my caged property, now and forever, your cock always locked because that’s what I want, I don’t give a fuck about what you want, I want it, I want to own your dick, I want to own you.”
M. just convulses, grunts and gasps, and cums in A.’s hand. A. pulls him in closer, hugging him, grasping him even more tightly, but then relaxes, releases, pushes him back a little. M.’s breathing is starting to slow. A. slowly smirks, leans forward and puts his lips up to his lover’s ear again.
“You are so fucked.”
