A Bully Caged

Wes sits across from me, wearing a thick gray t-shirt. His sultry, serious expression is a far cry from what it had been only eight hours ago: a silent moan. I still can't believe it. Wes, the worst person I know, is pierced, shaved, and *caged*. And, somehow even weirder, he's sitting with me at the dinner table eating Ms. Simmons' sesame tofu. He wouldn't have been caught dead here only a month ago.

"Nice dinner," he says. His eyes glaze over me and land on some corner of the room. I held his cock in my hand, and the motherfucker can't even make eye contact with me. Not that I'm helping. We've been sitting for twenty minutes without a string of words longer than "do you need the salt?"

"Thank Ms. Simmons," I say, "not me "

I saw his shoulders tense up at the mention of her name.

"Wes," I say, leaning forward, "where were you the past ten days?"

He puts his fork down and taps his foot a few times. "It's a long story," he says.

"Long stories have beginnings too."

He breathed out and played with his fork for a minute, following the edge of his plate. It makes a dull ringing sound. "I met Ms. Simmons on my way to school." He's quiet after, as if that explains everything. He switches gears and starts playing with the tablecloth. It's a near-see through white.

"And?"

"And... well, she told me everything you told her. She told me that she knew I had--a crush on her." Wes purses his lips. He's got these big, pillowy lips that are topped with a natural cupid's bow. Ive thought about splitting those lips with a punch numerous times. I still feel this blind rage when I look at him, although now it's mixed with... something else. Something even more animal.

God, I'm horny.

I had had to make it through four more classes, lunch, and a whole ride home while still never having release from this morning. Wes passed me in the halls multiple times, pulling his backpack tighter and turning red. I even think I could see his piercings through his shirt if I looked closely.

I want to see more. I need to see more.

"I didn't tell her you have a crush. I told her all the disgusting things tou said about her," I say.

Wes scratches his arm and still doesn't meet my eyes.

"Wes," I say.

He looks at me. His eyes have that same teary look as he did in the locker room. Is he going to cry? Part of me hopes so.

"I gotta know. What happened?"

Wes takes in a breath. "She took me to a hotel," he says.

"A hotel," I say. "You're saying she brought you to a Holiday Inn?"

"No," Wes says. I can tell he wants to look away from me, but he doesn't. "It was... different. She got this room for ten days. It had more stuff in there."

I'm starting to guess what's going on, but I want to hear him say it. "What happened in that room, Wes?"

"As if I'd be telling you..." Wes sneers. He trails off as he hears himself.

I bite my tongue. I need to be more commanding with him if I want to make progress. "You will be," I say.

An awkward silence follows. "Sorry... again," Wes says.

"That's a lot less involved than your last sorry."

He turns red again when I say that. I hadn't expected Wes to be embarrassed so readily. He mutters something.

"What was that?" I ask.

"Sorry... sir," he said.

There it was again: "sir." What the hell had happened? I pause. "So did you have sex with Ms. Simmons?"

"No!" Wes exclaimed. "I mean--not really. She said she wanted to, but... she wanted to make sure I... repented."

"Hail Marys?"

"Not exactly," Wes said.

I lean back and cross my arms. "Everything has been 'not really, kind of, not exactly,' and whatever else. Just tell me *what happened*."

"She put me in... this thing," Wes says.

Now I'm annoyed. "You're in chastity. Just say it."

He blushes. "My... my dick is in chastity."

"Thank you."

"And then she started to tease me--*train* me she said. She tied me up, and would use this vibrator on my... cage, and she'd make me watch videos of... gay stuff... while she--while she played with my ass. I'm still straight! I just--she just had an effect on me. She was the one who wanted it... like that."

He was stopping and starting like he had never heard these words before, much less said them out loud. I sit, open-mouthed for a moment. "You mean Ms. Simmons did all that?"

"No, David," Wes says. "I mean the fucking Pope." I see a snapshot of the Wes I was used to then. It's ugly.

I raise an eyebrow.

"Fuck..." he says. "Sorry."

I hear a voice from the door. "What are you apologizing for, baby?" It's Ms. Simmons. She's wearing a casual cotton dress with a plunged neck. There's a window on its side, and both Wes and I can see just the crest of her right hip. She's gorgeous. She's giving her usual smile, but it feels like it's charged with electricity, and everything in the room is waiting for the static buildup to finally release.

Wes, who I expect to blush, is pale as paper. "I was..." Wes starts to answer, but his eyes have glazed over and his thoughts have left.

"I heard," Ms. Simmons says, "and for the record, I'm not even Catholic, let alone the Pope."

Wes nods.

"Floor," Ms. Simmons says. Her voice is sweet as ever, but it's firm.

Wes nodded again. He gets out of the chair and silently gets to his knees.

"Good boy," Ms. Simmons says, rubbing his hair. "Strip and climb under the table now."

"Yes, mistress," Wes says.

And I'm hard again. Of course, I had noticed that Ms. Simmons was beautiful, but it's always been a far-off beauty. It's as if she's been a renaissance painting or sculpture: delicate and gorgeous, but inaccessible and sacred. Now, however, her draw is palpable. I finally notice the way she drapes gentle power over her whole being and wears it like a housecoat. She sees my gaze fixed on her, and she winks at me. My face turns warm.

Wes taking off his clothing is what pulls my eyes away from Ms. Simmons. He's slipped off his pants and underwear, once again revealing his small, imprisoned cock. It bounces as he pulls off his shirt, and his package is firmly straining against his chastity cage's black bars. His breathing and movement also causes his nipple and belly button piercings to glint in the warm near-summer sunlight. Then he is naked, sitting on my kitchen floor. He's lithe and muscular, but he's small, and when he rises to his knees, his eyes only come up to my waistband. He gently gets on his hands, and he crawls, on all fours mind you, underneath our kitchen table. His plugged heart-shaped ass is the last thing to slip under the tablecloth.

Okay... *now * I'm horny.

Ms. Simmons steps out of her shoes, sits down at the table where Wes had been moments ago, and lifts her hips to pull her dress up her long, thick legs that are just out of view. "I don't know how much Wes explained to you, hon, but I hope he was squirming the whole time." She laughs, and I laugh too out of habit. Then, Ms. Simmons knocks on the table lightly. "Wes, be a good boy and start sucking on my clit?" I hear some shuffling before she reaches a hand under the table. She starts to move her hips then, and I feel the table shift almost imperceptibly as she slowly fucks Wes' face.

I place both my hands on the tabletop. If I don't, I'll want to start touching myself, and I need my wits about me. At least, I do for a bit longer at least. "So, what the fuck?" I ask.

"We'll, I tried to explain," she says, "but you waved me off so you could finish jerking off. That's your fault, not mine."

"I was not jerking--"

"Oh, baby," she smiles, "we're way beyond that."

I'm quiet for a moment. Then, I realize, between our words, I can hear a soft and wet rhythm, with Wes moaning gently into Ms. Simmons' pussy.

"I know you're a horny bisexual boy from your browsing history, and I believe that, with some training, you could become a dominant. you have that fire. You could become like me," she says. "I just was looking to help."

I'm at a loss. This woman, who had preached spiritual recuperation and empathy to me at every turn, is a domme, and she's fucking my bully's face. She's fucking his stupid, doe-eyed face. She's...

She's standing up and pulling the dress over her head and off her body.

Her hips are wide, and she has a full, unkempt bush that punctuates the valley between her legs. Her legs and armpits are similarly unshaven. It looks natural, as if there's no other way for it to be. She has percings that mirror Wes' through her nipples and bellybutton. Hers are silver. Moisture from either her arousal or Wes' lips hangs on her bush. She has muscle, but is still soft, and has thick thighs that jiggle as she wiggles from her dress.

"David," she says softly as she walks around the table, "he'll do anything I ask. And... I want the same for you. You deserve to get what you want from the world. I just suspected this might be part of it." She puts her hand on mine. It's hot.

"I don't know what to say..."

"Don't say anything," she says. "Just sit in this chair if you think you want to take the next steps." She pulls out an unused chair, and she places it a few feet away from the table.

I swallow before standing. Almost immediately, I'm embarrassed by my erection. It's pulled my waistband from my body, and it's stronger than any I've ever had.

Ms. Simmons raises her eyebrows and smiles as she looks at my tented pants. It's her familiar smile. After a moment, I realize that even though she's the naked one, I am the one who is laid bare. Vulnerability has become me. I walk the four steps to the chair and sit. It's identical to the one I was just in, but it feels wholly different.

"Wes," she says, "come and suck your first real cock, honey."

Wes pushed up the tablecloth and appears from underneath. He crawls the short distance. As he does, I watch his hips sway back and forth as his weight shifts from one side to the other. His lips glow with Ms. Simmons' cum plastered on them.

"He's practiced to no end on dildos if varying sizes the past week or so," Ms. Simmons says, "but what I think it comes down to is that he's enthusiastic. For all the complaining he did about his cock training, it's usually when his little cock dribbled the most. Isn't that right, baby?"

Wes looked up at her. "It was because it was you, mistr--"

Suddenly Ms. Simmons spanks him, hard. Her body shakes a little from the recoil, but Wes almost collapses and groans. He's only a foot away, and I can see the start of a handprint on his asscheek.

"Please say yes, baby," Ms. Simmons says. Although it is phrased as a request, both Wes and I know it is a command.

"Yes, mistress."

"Yes, mistress, what?"

"Yes, mistress, my cage dribbled the most while we were doing cock training."

"Good boy," she says, smiling. She rubs his red ass gently, and gives his buttplug a push.

He closes his eyes and stifles a moan, just like he did in the locker room. I take the opportunity to lift my own hips and slide my sweatpants to the floor. When Wes opens his eyes, they widen. My cock is right in front of his face, less than ten inches away.

Barely, subconsciously, he rubs his lips together.

My dick is circumcised, and I keep my own pubic hair trimmed, but the thing that's surprising him is the sheer size. It's about eight inches long, and it's thick, curving upwards toward my stomach. A drop of precum sits on the crown, and veins decorate my shaft. My balls are churning as he looks at them. They're hanging loose from my body.

Ms. Simmons finds her own chair and pulls it to the side. "I'll let you two lovebirds do your thing," she says.

"We're not..." Wes starts, but it's halfhearted. He never takes his eyes off my cock.

I look down and nod at him. "Suck my cock, Wes."

"I'm only doing this for Ms. Simmons..." he says, trailing off again. His fingers reach up, just brushing the inside of my thighs. Goosebumps appear on my skin as he wraps his painted fingernails gingerly around me. It isn't long before his grip tightens. He pulls closer, and I feel his breath as it rolls over me. It's warm. Then, he touches me, and I'm not sure if it's the heat of his lips, the sheer power of excitement, or some power of the divine, but as soon as there's contact, I shudder and start leaking precum like a faucet. He shifts forward to catch it all, firmly rooting his lips around the flare of my head. He looks up, and I catch his eyes as they flutter. His tongue swirls around me.

He may not know it, but he is already cockdrunk. His cheeks are flushed, and he starts to hum with me inside his mouth. He drinks my precum like it's medicine.

"That's a good little faggot," I say.

Before he has time to protest his new title, I decide to take a page from Ms. Simmons' book, and I run my fingers through his hair before settling my hand on the back of his head. He looks up at me as I slide deeper into his mouth, pushing into his throat. He gags a bit at first, but soon has almost all of my cock buried in his esophagus.

He shifts forward, putting one arm under my left leg. There's a small puddle of precum right below where his hips had been, so I move my right foot and fix it firmly on his cage. I find it pulled away from his body, wet and aching to be fully erect.

Fuck.

He hums again, and I pull out until my cock is settled on his lower lip. I grab his hair with a loose grip at first. "Beg me to keep fucking your face," I say.

"Can you fuck my face, please?" He asks. His eyes just don't meet mine.

I strengthen my grip, pulling a handful of his hair between my fingers. He winces as I speak. "I didn't say ask. I said beg,"

He looks at me and whimpers a bit. "Please, sir. Please fuck my face. I need it. Please. I need your big dick between my lips. Please."

I let go.

His head immediately falls into my lap, and he pushes me down his throat even farther than before. He takes a spare hand and starts jerking off the base of my cock with the spit rolling down it's sides.

I moan. "You're a natural cocksucker, Wes." I mean it. Assholery be damned, his mouth feels better than I ever could have imagined. It hits me that this is my first blowjob. The world feels distant, and for a second it feels like it's just me and Wes.

Suddenly he pulls back, focusing on the head as he now uses two hands to stroke me. In between his bobbing, he speaks in gasps and pants. "Thank you, sir." Another bob. "Please give me your cum." One more time. "I need it sir."

Fuck.

Then, I grab Wes' head and start pumping, feeling his throat loosen and and tighten. I stare at his face. I hate that I can't hate him right now. His eyes are closed. He's enjoying this as much, if not more than I am, and I don't think he even realizes it. My balls start to pull close to my body, and I feel my cum start to rise. I pull him off, tell him "I'm going to cum, Wes," and immediately his hands are on me, working my cock and wetting his lips.

The first cum from my cock fires out and lands on his forehead with an audible splash., Running down and dripping from his nose. The next hits him squarely in the lips, and he gasps, getting his first taste of another man's cum. Three more ropes of cum land on his chest and stomach, dripping down and stopping when they hit his heart-shaped trimmed bush. The rest cascades down my shaft.

Ms. Simmons giggles and speaks for the first time in what feels like ages. She's still naked, and it's clear she's been masturbating while watching us. One leg is up, and her pussy, spread and pink, is shining. "Really had a lot to give, David. Wes, clean him up too. Don't be rude."

Wes nods and immediately starts to lick and suck my balls, my shaft, and any inch of my body that could possibly have a drop of his reward. He even sucks the insides of my thighs, sending tingles up my body. This self-professed "straight" boy was eating the cum from my body.

He pulls back after I am completely clean, although now he has me almost ready for a part two. He's shimmering with semen. "Am I done, Mistress?" He asks, turning to Ms. Simmons.

She gestures towards me.

He turns back. His face turns red again. "Can I... can I get cleaned up sir?" His eyes are so blue and watery. I know it's from gagging and fighting for air, but he looks...

*Fuck.*

"Yeah," I say, "uh, bathroom's on the first right of the hall."

He gets up, and begins to walk away. His ass jiggles a bit as he does, and I see a drop of my cum fall off him and hit our kitchen floor.

"I'll have him lick that up later," Ms. Simmons says, "but I'm glad you're taking me up on my offer, honey."

I nod, drained and still somewhat stunned. "Yeah. That was... that was great."

She stands and smiles. "I left a collar on your bedside table for you to give to Wes. He's doing this all because I've told him to, but he's yours, even if he doesn't fully know it yet." Then she walks over to me. Her perfume is familiar, but now it's mixed with the smell of *her*. Pheromones, sweat, and her arousal all fill the air. I start to shift in my seat, trying not to become hard once again. She smiles. "I'll see you tomorrow, sweetie."

Then she leans down, kisses me on the forehead, and walks out of the kitchen.

What a Monday.