It had been three days since I was last permitted an erection. The plastic cage on my cock kept it from getting hard. As I said, I'm a 23 year old male - I'm in the height of my sexual prime. If it wasn't for Mistress Steph's orders, I would be getting off two or three times a day.
Not being able to get off was doing a number on my body. People commented that I seemed tense. I awoke every night gripping the cage. These night erections were the worst - I guess my sleeping mind wandered down the alabaster avenue of Mistress Steph's thighs, legs crossed, a shiny leather boot bobbing in the air. In my dreams I'm kneeling before her, naked, blushing, jerking off, and she's fully clothed, tapping a riding crop in her palm. In my mind her crop lands on my thighs and ass, but in real life the torture is in my cock, trying to wake up from its nightmare, solitary confinement.
I needed to get the key back from her. Bad. This is too much, I thought to myself as I tried to calm myself down after an especially difficult bout with willpower first thing in the morning.
Mistress Steph gets annoyed when I'm weak or whiny, so I knew better than to ask directly for the key. She said that she'd start off easy, maybe letting me out every few days, but it would get longer and more difficult as she "trained" me to do without the orgasms I craved so much.
Simply not being able to touch my cock was torture. I could tell that it was getting very sensitive without any attention - sometimes I was able to lightly brush my foreskin through the bars, and it felt delicious... I was imagining what it would feel like for her to take my cock in her hand and slowly stroke it to full length... but these thoughts became problematic as I swelled. The funny thing about a chastity belt is that you can't even THINK about sex. God forbid you look at naughty pictures while so restricted - It was like Mistress Steph was punishing me for having unclean thoughts.
I rang her doorbell at our usual time, 11 PM. I stood there on her steps, nervous and sweating. I had showered and shaved, top and bottom. My swelling balls were well baby-oiled so they wouldn't chafe against the fastening ring. I wasn't wearing any underwear. I was wearing a leather collar with an O-ring on the front. This was the letter of the law of Her word. Eventually, Mistress Steph answered the door. She was wearing my favorite thigh-high boots, a PVC corset, and short a PVC skirt. Her soft breasts seemed to spill like liquid over the top of the corset. Around her neck, there was a tight choker with an O-ring on the front that matched mine. She glared at me.
"Get ready for me," she said with a yawn, and shut the door.
My mind raced. Mistress Steph prefers when I'm naked in her presence - it is a clear demonstration of which one of us is in charge. Did she really want me to...?