She Said Yes - a Covid-19 Story

She Said Yes -- a Covid 19 story Ch. 07

By Pat Annon © 2021

(All characters are over 18 years old. They have no memory of anything that may or may not have happened before their eighteenth birthday.)

The chastity cage had a firm hold on me this morning. I woke to sunlight. We left the curtain open after recording yesterday. I sensed Julie's presence, touched the spot she lay.

It was much later than usual. I slept in. I had trouble getting to sleep last night. I got up twice to add lubricant to spots where my chastity cage ring pinched. It's better this morning, especially if I don't think about Julie naked in my bed.

By now Amanda is out on her morning run. For her everything is normal. Yesterday changed nothing. This morning, for Amanda, is like any other; for me not so much. Everything has changed.

Amanda, Amanda, Amanda. Damn. I always think about Amanda in the morning. Right now, I feel like Amanda has a firm grip on my balls. Most mornings I awake and my prick is hard. I associate Amanda with morning wood. I can't help it; it just is.

Most mornings, thoughts of Amanda lead to jerking off. With this fucking cage on, I can't. I can't come to full erection. I can't masturbate. I can't do what comes naturally. Most mornings, after I ejaculate, I can stop thinking about Amanda. My day starts when thoughts of Amanda stop. How do I stop thinking about Amanda without release?

When my prick tries to get hard, it moves the cage and stresses my balls. I try to adjust the chastity device for comfort. My prick is locked in because my balls are trapped. Shaking and pulling on the device proves it will not come off. I try gently pushing a testicle back through the ring, but no dice.

I can picture Amanda out jogging along the lakefront. I picture those keys, wet with her sweat in early summer heat. Right now, my prick is wet with too much lube and pre-cum mixed. I see the moisture through the clear plastic. Those fucking keys are with her, not with me. Would I be able to keep from masturbating if I had the keys? I think not. this proves I need Amanda to keep them. I trust her to keep me on track.

I'm on my back, legs apart, hands on my cage. If I had the keys... But I don't... Shaking the cage feels good but brings on a renewed partial erection. My prick is trained to respond to my hand. The physical and psychological pressure is intense. If I had the keys, I could get relief. It would feel so good to get a hold of my prick and work out the kinks. I have to stop thinking this way. I used to get control of these thoughts by beating off. Now what do I do?

Amanda told me only a little part of me was locked up; I'm mostly free. But I'm not. Without the freedom to masturbate, I can't think about anything other than Amanda. - God, she is beautiful. - I love her feet. Amanda has long toes. The second toe is longer than the big toe. I know. Sometimes in a session she lets me kiss and suck on her toes while massaging her feet. But this is not what we do now. Instead she has locked up my prick for my own good.

She told me the keys are as important to her as my cock is to me. Well, right now my balls are pretty insistent that they are important. I'm choosing to honor Amanda's desire in spite of my ball's complaints. I will not beg for release. I know she cares about me.

I can picture those keys on her necklace, on her chest, between her breasts, maybe under her sports bra, next to her skin. Those keys are the connection, the physical union between us. Amanda has me by my fucking balls. And this morning it feels right -- it hurts -- but it feels right.

Key and lock linked, like sex, makes one out of two. The lock incarcerating my prick, remakes it in a hard shell, limiting it, not letting go even for a second. I can feel the shape of my prick formed in plastic, but not my prick. The lock awaits the key, the insertion and turn of the key by Amanda.

The key, inserted into the lock, makes possible release, climax, orgasm. Amanda has the key, the part that is inserted. I have the lock, the part that waits for the key. I'm the one with the key shaped hole. Amanda is the one with the phallic key.

While I am in this hard plastic chastity device, I have a continual connection with Amanda. A connection more intense than even kissing her toes. She, the key holder, is in control. I, imprisoned, am under her control. Key and lock the sign. Amanda is with me, holding this central part of me. She says I'm free. I am is free to wait for her. I'm free to think about her, obsess over her. I have no outlet, no cleansing ejaculation, only desire, only Amanda.

I can't feel my prick. It is locked away. Safe in its plastic prison, its unfeeling jail cell. I can touch the cage, not my prick. I visit the prison, not the prisoner. When I tap on the plastic I can sense it, my prick feels it. Like a code between prisoners, there is communication. I can touch a tiny bit of the prisoner through the hole in the cage, but it isn't at all satisfying.

Oh - My -- God! I want to jerk off. I want to get hold of my erection and feel it hard. I want to work it slowly until there is no holding back. I want to feel the contractions, the flow of semen, the mind numbing descent from a satisfying orgasm. I want to know the peace that follows when thoughts turn off. I want to feel my cock, but all I have in hand is its hard plastic shell, and my balls stretched tight. I have to think about something else. Amanda is my every moment. I need a distraction.

Every morning of my adult life I have been able to get one off either in bed or in a morning shower. But not today. Before today I didn't treasure the opportunity. I enjoyed it. I never imagined missing it. My prick must wait till Amanda has time this afternoon to unlock it.

She said she would. She also said I could choose to stay locked. But why? Why would I choose to stay locked up like this? Amanda wanted me to try it. I tried it. She was happy last night when I chose to continue our experiment. I like making her happy. But two days?

This morning Amanda holds the key. By holding it, she has hold of my prick. And somehow, at this very moment, I would not have it any other way. I willingly give my ache, my want, my desire to her. I might as well. She has the only key fitting this lock. God, these feelings are complicated.

I rolled over and pressed my imprisoned prick into the bed in exactly the spot where Julie's hips had been. The cage doesn't give way. My balls do. They adjust to new pressure.

I can feel my balls. I can't feel my penis. So strange. Every other morning it's the other way around. I don't spend much time with my balls while masturbating. The penis is responsive, I ignore my testicles. They are just there, providing.

My cage presses into the bed sheet where Julie was yesterday morning. Yesterday I watched her struggle in Amanda's bindings. Now, here am I differently bound. Lying in the same place where Julie's breasts were compressed, now my balls compressed. I think about Amanda binding us, Julie with rope, me in a cage. Amanda connects us, Julie and me.

Last night Julie came over. She was wearing a gorgeous summer dress. Anyway, I thought it was gorgeous. Light cream print, spaghetti strap, long skirt, hiding, yet revealing the body beneath. The midriff close, not tight. Her breasts framed by the fabric gathered above and just below. The back dipping low enough to make it obvious she wore no bra. The dress, with a scalloped hem freely draped from her hips, full enough to float as she turned.

How is she so sensual, wearing a summer dress as if it were an accessory, an eye-catching addition to her presence on the room? The dress moves in a reflection of her. It exudes comfort, grace, confidence.

I remember the swirling of her dress as she entered, turning, almost skipping, as she went past me. I opened the door at her knock and allowed in this floating nymph. She was full of energy: bright, alive, enthusiastic, free. I was none of the above: locked, confused, questioning, wary.

"I brought popcorn," she said, "Amanda suggested I might come over instead of spending the night alone again in this covid lock down. Are you up for a movie, or would you rather play chess? I love The Queen's Gambit." She put the bag she carried down in the table.

"I've never played chess. A movie is fine."

Her confident attitude made Julie's physical presence larger. She filled the room. I couldn't look away. I smiled when I noticed her bedazzled wedge sandals.

"I have an idea. Let's go sit out on the balcony and watch the sunset. I know its warm out there. Amanda said she put a bottle of wine in the refrigerator. Would you mind? I do so love the sun."

Julie's skirt flirts a glimpse of leg beneath. Why is it that a little hint is far sexier to me than a whole leg uncovered? Her dress falls from her knees as she puts her feet up on the lower rail of the balcony. Up here, the noise of the city fades. It blends into a dull roar. What is left in the evening heat, is a woman completely at ease where she is.

"Oh, this chardonnay is nicely oaked. I like an oaky Chardonnay. It is sure of itself. It is what it is. I like it."

What I liked was bringing the wine to her. What I liked was sitting near her. What I liked was... What I said was, "That's a great dress for a warm evening like this."

"Why, thank you. I do like it. I don't wear much under it. If people on the street below could see up here, they'd get an eyeful." She winked at me and smiled.

"That's the thing about dresses and kilts," I responded. "You never really know what's underneath." I returned the smile.

"Ha! You are kind of cute. I can see why Miss Amanda likes you." She sipped her wine and cocked her head, looking at me. "I've been amazed at how placid you are while Amanda and I make videos, even when you were spanking me. You did a good job of that, by the way. I really enjoyed it."

"It was my pleasure, Ma'am. Blindfolded made it a bit more difficult. I really couldn't tell what was going on."

"Have you not seen it? Amanda edited it and sent me a copy for my approval before posting it. I liked it "

"I haven't. Amanda said she would show it to me. But Amanda can do as she will from my point of view. I trust her to know more about these things than I do."

"I think we should watch it together. I brought my laptop. I think we can connect it to your TV. It must have an HTMI connection and I brought the cable."

"You want to watch the video we made?"

"On the laptop I have several videos I've been in. I like watching them. Gives me a good feeling, deep inside, where it counts. Know what I mean?"

She patted the lower part of her belly. The evening was really warm and humid. The thin fabric of Julie's dress clung to her body. I've seen her naked. She has been naked in my bed. Still, somehow, the tease of dress and female flesh, warm and damp, clinging and draping, was mesmerizing. I could see the outline of nipples through cloth. I stared; she let me stare.

"I love the color of the sky on an evening like this. I could do this every evening. Your condo has a great view."

"Yes, it does." Even I appreciated the double entendre of my reply.

The chastity device Amanda put on me was now unbelievably uncomfortable. I needed to adjust it, to turn it, so it lined up better with the increasing pressure from my cock. I shifted in my chair, hoping for relief.

Julie shifted as well, uncrossing her ankles and re-crossing the other way. As she did so, the underside of her thigh was revealed, just above her knee. I love the peek-a-boo of thigh and dress. She sipped her wine. I saw her glance at me, and her knowing smile.

For my part, I really had to adjust the position of the cage. I thought a slight twist to the left might help. Julie looked away from me, following a low flying jet making its approach to the O'Hare. I used the opportunity to try to turn the cage. It didn't work. I had to stand up.

Julie leaned her head back and shook out her hair. I could see a hint of delicious perspiration on her neck. The same perspiration that scented my bed this morning. I inhaled deeply, not quite close enough to catch that smell, fresh once more. I stood up. The cage was insistent. I had to dispel thoughts of Julie in my bed. I needed my prick to relax.

Leaning against the railing, feet apart, I faced away from the city and toward Julie. Her eyes were closed. I let my gaze linger. She was smiling. Her eyes were closed, her face lit by the last of daylight.

"Do you like what you see?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

It was so much easier to stand. The cage seemed to find its own equilibrium. I spread my feet a bit more and found a natural balance between a cock and balls trapped in plastic. Everything settled in when I stood up. I could feel the presence of the cage but it did not hurt.

It is an odd feeling. My penis, nestled in its cocoon, does not feel anything. The everyday rub of underwear and cock head goes unnoticed. Unnoticed, that is, until it is gone. Now in its place is a penis seeking attention when none is forthcoming. Amanda made arrangements for Julie to keep me company, to take my mind off this cage, but my prick insists on attention. And Julie, here with me, makes it more insistent.

She stood next to me, touching me, her hip bumping mine. Now I caught her scent, something lightly floral. I would have loved to taste her, to touch my tongue to her neck, just below her ear. In the warmth, in the damp of the evening, cock locked by Amanda, Julie so close, I felt feint. I was not in control of anything. I've no right to any of this. I held onto the railing.

"Let's go inside and watch some of my videos -- what do you say? I think you'll enjoy them. Watch them with me?"

I really wasn't sure how to respond. Julie was enthusiastic. She seemed to really want to watch porn videos with me. How could I resist? "Of course, I want to see the video we made, and any others you want to show."

"All right, then. Why don't you pop the popcorn I brought while I setup your television?"

I found the microwave popcorn in her bag. When I got back, she was already on the sofa with the laptop on the coffee table. On the screen the video was up. I could see I was about to knock on Amanda's door.

"This is going to be fun," she said, offering a full glass of wine. She had a small remote for the computer. The video started; Julie reached for the popcorn. I sat next to her, her thigh touching my leg. We shared the popcorn. The plastic cage between my legs pinched but I did not move. I did not want to break the contact with Julie. God, she's sexy.

When the scene of Amanda kicking me in the crotch appeared, I flinched. Julie felt it. "Effective, was it? I didn't know whether you were acting or not."

"Oh, it was effective alright." Amanda had made a montage of all three takes of that scene. The joy on Amanda's face was evident as she kicked me the third time. Strange how her joy made me happy. I watched myself fall. I flinched because I remember how that hurt.

"Let's watch it again, shall we?" Julie went back over the ball kicking scene several times. She seemed to like watching it. By the third time going over the scene, her arm was around my shoulders "I just love the way you collapse, like you're broken. But then you get right back up." She gave my shoulder a squeeze. I finished my second glass of wine.

Had I been alone, I would have stood and readjusted the plastic ring behind my balls. But I was next to Julie, I didn't think I could move. So, I sat there, suffering a pinched scrotum, just to be close. It made no sense to me then or now. It hurt to be this close, but I made no effort to relieve the pain.

Julie's enthusiasm for the video was infectious. I watched the two women together on the screen. I watched Amanda reach down and do something, I couldn't tell exactly what, to a naked Julie. Whatever it was, it drew a powerful response. It was the cry I heard while blindfolded.

Then I got to watch Julie's bottom while I spanked. It was awesome as it flexed and recovered, turning red. It filled the screen, many times larger than life. The third part of the video confirmed for me that Julie was moving because of what she was doing, not what I did. And it was clear, from her reaction, Amanda enjoyed Julie's efforts.

Let me pause here and say in one hour Julie had provided me with enough wanking material to last months, if not years. But my dick was locked in a plastic tube and there was nothing I could do about it. Julie leaned toward me, her hand on my shoulder, pulling me in closer. She whispered in my ear.

"Did you know Amanda tastes like dark chocolate with hints of tobacco and salty ocean? I could eat her up all day."

I moved my knees farther apart. There was no relief from the pressure on my balls. I felt like the skin of my scrotum was pinched in the ring. I later learned that most of the problem was hair. Pubic hair was caught between plastic parts. It was being pulled out by the roots as my prick tried to become erect.

Julie was close, very close. I felt her breast, soft on my arm. She took a piece of popcorn and put it up to my lips. I opened my mouth and she slipped it in. Her finger moved past my teeth gently pressing the kernel onto my tongue. One hand on the back of my neck, the other with fingers in my open mouth, she held me for the longest time. I could not move. I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Her breast warm on my arm, thigh against mine, I had no idea where this might go, but it was more than I bargained for.

"I do love popcorn," she said. "Don't you? Such a simple pleasure, salt and crunch, a little sweetness from the corn."

She withdrew her finger. "Like another?" she asked. "Put it in your mouth. Don't chew. Just let it dissolve. Press up with your tongue. Taste it."

I froze. Without a reply from me she placed another in my mouth. Then she traced my lips with her finger. Slowly that finger descended my chin. She pushed up on my jaw. I closed my mouth and my eyes. I slowly crushed the two kernels of popcorn with my tongue. I couldn't move. The chastity device pinched. I concentrated on breathing through my nose.

"I do love popcorn." Leaning into me, she took a kernel and put it in her mouth. I felt her breath on my neck. She stayed like that. The popcorn in my mouth broke up and partially dissolved. I tasted the sweetness of the corn. There was nothing I could do. My prick was locked; my balls hurt. She was all over me and I sat there trying not to encourage her.

"Some people say I taste like popcorn. I don't know, but if so, I would love eating me!" She laughed and moved back. She ate some more popcorn, but her hand was on my thigh. I felt her fingers squeeze, dangerously close to my cage.

"Hey! I have another video I did with a male dom. He's the one who told me I taste like popcorn."

A few clicks on her computer and there she was on my television, large as life, bound in a sex swing. This guy, rather big and intimidating, dressed in leather pants and chest harness, stood between her legs. He was flogging Julie right on her sex. The falls traveled in a circular figure eight, striking her lower belly, inside of her thighs and crotch over and over, faster and faster. Julie was writhing, twisting left and right in the swing, her feet bound high, legs apart, shaking. She let out a kind of visceral low throated growl.

Dropping to his knees, he seized her hips and began a rather forceful cunnilingus. Julie offered her commentary, "I must say pussy whipping followed by head like that is pretty good foreplay."

I had no idea how to respond. She squeezed my thigh again. I just stared at the screen. "Listen to this," she commanded turning up the sound.

"You taste like popcorn, my dear. Sweet and salty."