Walking around outside with your penis and balls encased in a heavy stainless steel cage gives you a whole new perspective on self-consciousness. It's hard not to look for stares, when all that is between my abject humiliation and the eyes of my neighbours is the thin material of my khaki's.
When getting dressed, I had other things in mind. I figured I'd wear some of my tighter underwear and reasonably thick jeans. They'd reduce the bulge and deaden any sound made by any loose metal bits. In fact, there shouldn't have been anything to rattle except that my mistress, in her zealousness to prevent even the smallest chance of me escaping, had attached that little padlock through my frenum ring, so that as I walked there is the distinct ting of metal on metal.
I made it as far as the bedroom door before being intercepted, remonstrated for my clear defiance of her purpose and given another sound beating to my already swollen balls. So now, my underwear privileges are gone and I'm sporting my lightest pants that do nothing to reduce the protrusion of the cage and even less to stifle the sound of the mechanics. Worse still, they are light coloured so any wetness, say from precum, shows as a dark circle on a light khaki background.
"Slave, you're looking uncomfortable. Are you feeling any pain I should worry about?"
Just my beating heart, "No Mistress."
"Oh good. You just have this very anxious look on your face and you appear to be sweating a little and, frankly, it isn't that warm out."
We just stepped into the subway station and were riding down the escalator. She looks at me while standing close and reaches out to cup my balls through the material. She smiles, "I'm sorry, my slave, for treating you so harshly this morning. I want you to feel good and enjoy pleasure today, too." As she's saying this, she's gently rubbing my balls and sliding my cage up and down against my pubic bone.
The thing about a cage, particularly a short one, is that it doesn't really stop you from getting an erection. Blood rushes in just the same, but instead of a big hard-on, a lot of the erection happens internally. Another effect is that the cage is pushed outward as far as your constrained skin will allow. This brings along your balls which are squeezed even tighter.
So, as she's stroking me, my still chemically enhanced penis grows hard, the cage pushes out, my balls are further squished and I start to seap precum.
The escalators in this station are very long and she has plenty of time to get me excited, so that by the time we get to the bottom, there is a very pronounced bulge stretching my pants and a nice dark spot where I've leaked a little.
"Oh slave, I'm sorry. I've made you all hard. That must be uncomfortable." And then promptly grabs my hand in hers leaving me only one to try to mask the pornography going on in my crotch.
It's hard to say whether I was successful, so rather than risking some very uncomfortable eye contact, I keep my head down.
"Hey, let's head downtown and do some shopping."
I don't much care for shopping, but she's a big fan. This actually works out well as there is little to stimulate me and I'm able to keep everything in place. I discovered that if I keep my hands in my pockets, I can reach through and hold onto that infernal padlock. I think this might not go too badly and torturing me with shopping is outside of our deal, so this shouldn't take too long.
I'm barely paying attention as she piles clothes on me to port from rack to shelf to end display. Finally, we end up at the change room and head in. It's a big stall down a hall of changing room doors. There are people around but not too busy, which, frankly, is a little concerning. As this is just the kind of place for her to do something dangerous.
"Here babe. Try on these pants and shorts."
I head into the stall and turn to close it. With her hand on the stall, she says, "oh, don't worry about that, I want to see how it looks on you. We'll leave it open, dontcha think?"
I think that sounds very risky and you should be better behaved. That's what I think. "Ok."
"Pardon me?"
"Yes Mistress," I hiss. My face brightens as I think of the likelihood of someone in an adjoining stall hearing that.
Shorts and pants, of course that's what she'd pick when I'm not wearing anything under my pants other than a big cow bell of a cock cage. I turn to face the mirror and begin to unbuckle my jeans when I hear a little, "Ahem!"
Goddamit. I turn around. She's facing me with a rather bright smile. At least there isn't anyone in the stall directly across, but who knows when someone will walk by.
I pause for a moment holding my unbuttoned pants in one hand while I reach for the shorts with the other. Then, in a flash of action that would do justice to a Las Vegas quick change artist, I drop my pants and pull up the shorts... to about my mid thighs. That's when I realise that these wouldn't fit 12 year old me. I look up to see her giggling at the site of me struggling with the shorts with two hands as my bound cock bounces and rattles in its cage for all the world to see.
"Gah. You monster!"
Down go the shorts and I step into the khakis. But, in my haste to pull them up, I jam the zipper into the bottom of the cage. You know how, at the most inconvenient moments, inanimate objects get into the most unlikely position that you're left wondering how the hell that happened? That's what happened here. So, while I struggle to pull the tab out from between two little pipes in the cage, I see the shadow of someone passing right in front of the door.
Again, like Zorro twirling his cape, I face the wall only to realise that I've done nothing except to flash the passerby using the mirror.
I freeze and simply cover my junk.
They continue walking.
I breathe.
She's still laughing a half hour later as we're in the food court getting a snack, regaling me with a play-by-play of all the action. If I wasn't so mortified, I'd enjoy the fun she's having with this, but I'm not yet sufficiently evolved for that kind of generosity.
"Oh slave," quietly, "we're off to somewhere more to your liking next. We'll get a drink and I promise that no innocents will be scandalized by your subby bits."
Our city has strip clubs, lots and lots of strip clubs. They're everywhere, even on the most commercial downtown streets. But, in the couple decades I've been here, I've been only twice and that was for someone else's party. I've never been with my girlfriend. So, despite the nature of the day, I was a little stunned to be walking into one this afternoon.
There were few people in the club and a couple dancers around their poles.
"Let's sit down by the stage over there," she points at the secondary stage which has a very cute, girl-next-door, pixie blonde wrapping herself around a pole.
We order some drinks and sit close together as we watch this beautiful creature work her trade. She has a bright Meg Ryan smile and a small athletic body with perky little c-cups that know nothing at all of gravity.
She looks right at us and smiles before spinning around to show us her back, sliding down the pole facing away from us.
