Recap:
Doug, a mid-20s shlub with a small dick, had been returning to his hometown regularly to visit his childhood psychologist, Dr. Rogers, for months while his relationship with his girlfriend, Jess, deteriorated. Dr. Rogers had been a caring, warm presence in his life since he was a boy, but he also harbored a secret infatuation with her.
Part I began when Doug, horny and eager for humiliation as penance for his inability to sexually satisfy his now ex-girlfriend, hatched a plan to show Dr. Rogers his small penis. Little did he know what revealing his shortcoming would awaken in the psychologist; she reacted viscerally to his smallness and berated him for how it had rendered him ineffectual and weak in his personality. After a devastating humiliation, Doug submitted to Dr. Rogers.
Part II chronicled Doug's next appointment, when Dr. Rogers cemented his submission to her and outlined treatment for his problem. She fitted Doug with a chastity cage, explaining that the padlock for his plastic prison had three keys. She would hold one key, as would Doug's ex-girlfriend Jess, and Brandon Crowley, another patient of Dr. Rogers' whom Doug had known in high school. Crowley came to the office and witnessed Doug exposed in all his emasculated, degraded glory. We pick up in Part III.
*****
Disappointing Dr. Rogers - Part III
Doug took a deep breath. Here he was again, at the door to Dr. Rogers' office suite. He waited there for a moment, anxiety swirling in his stomach. He tried to swallow to ease the fluttering in his chest, but he couldn't conjure up much saliva. Finally, he reached out, turned the knob and stepped into the waiting room.
It had been a week since his last appointment, a week since Dr. Rogers had first instructed him to put on the chastity cage that was now tucked away under his boxers. It had been a long seven days. That first night was torture. He hadn't passed such a sleepless, tense night since a bout with a stomach virus when he was in college. All he wanted to do was to forget about the plastic shell imprisoning his manhood, but his mind stayed laser focused on his groin. He tossed and turned for hours, oscillating between frustration over his inability to find a comfortable position and futile, desperate horniness.
The first full day was almost worse. At first, he had woken up from a fitful sleep momentarily unaware of his circumstances. He wasn't reminded of his cage - and all the memories of humiliation it represented - until he swung his legs off the bed and felt its weight pull his small package down between his thighs. The day was full of reminders - trivial and monumental - of his situation: when he realized he would have to sit to pee in the men's bathroom at his office; when he had twisted unwisely in his chair and wrenched the tight plastic ring around his scrotum; when he ogled without discretion at the goddesses on his subway commute only to have his nascent erection cowed by the cruel curve of the cage.
Still, Doug hadn't even taken out his phone to text Brandon Crowley until the fourth day, a Saturday, when he had woken up with what passed for morning wood. His balls were pulled tight against the ring as his engorged shaft thrust the tube outward and away from his body. Driven by lust, he humped his bed furiously in a frantic attempt to generate some sensation and satisfaction in his penis, but he gave up with whimper. He had taken the phone out and gotten as far as selecting Crowley's number to begin a new text chain, but the thought of the alpha's patronizing smirk as he opened his front door was enough to make Doug throw his phone across the bed.
The dread induced by the barest imagining of an encounter with Crowley sustained him. He never texted, and he never called. There were more nights of pathetic bed humping, more endless days of frustration and waiting at work, and finally one morning when he woke with his sheets damp and sticky from a wet dream, but he didn't waver, and for that small victory, he was proud. He didn't know what lay ahead of him in Dr. Rogers' office, but it couldn't have been worse than what lay behind him.
He closed the door behind him. The waiting room was the same as ever; toys and games were piled high in bins and on shelves, and a collection of old People and Sports Illustrated magazines were arranged in a fan across the low table. Doug held his breath for a few moments, but he didn't hear any talking in Dr. Rogers' office, no sound to indicate a previous patient. She was waiting for him. He began to undress.
Obediently and diligently, Doug removed his shoes, into which he stuffed his socks, and folded his shirt and pants and placed them on the couch. Finally he removed his underwear. By now he was at least semi-aroused at all times, and the straining cage bobbed in the air as the elastic waistband slipped around it. Doug felt a distant, dull ache in his balls. He cursed all the times in his life that he had freely and uselessly masturbated for driving him to this humiliating moment. He folded the boxers and placed them neatly on the couch.
He stood before the office door for a moment. He thought of the voluptuous, acid-tongued goddess waiting on the other side of the door, and his exposed ass clenched as he tried in vain to flex his penis. He took a deep breath, then opened the door and stepped in.
Dr. Rogers wasn't in the office. Doug was expecting to hear the jangle of earrings and bracelets as the doctor turned her head to look at the door. Instead, there was silence. But the office was not empty. Sitting in the back, on the couch facing the door was Brandon Crowley.
Doug froze in the doorway. His stomach plummeted, and it felt like he was gulping back his heartbeat. He had been relatively sure that Crowley would be making an appearance today, but he was at least hoping to be eased into it with Dr. Rogers first. Even though she only offered him sneering disdain now, Dr. Rogers was still somehow a comforting presence. She was trying to help him - she said, at least - and Doug didn't think things could get too out of hand under her watch. But here he was, caged and exposed in front of that smug asshole Brandon Crowley with nobody to protect him. His penis had never felt smaller and more impotent.
"Get in here and close the door," Crowley commanded.
Doug could read Crowley's gleeful look from across the long office, and his guts swirled in anger, frustration and pent-up horniness. But he didn't dare disobey. He closed the door and walked back toward the sitting area. He knew better than to try to cover his chastity cage. The padlock making a loud clacking sound as it bounced against the plastic housing with each step. Doug saw Crowley's eyes dart down his groin and register the symbol of his inferiority.
As if in turn, Doug's gaze was drawn inexorably to the groin of Crowley's dark jeans. He pictured the beautiful specimen that he knew lurked beneath the denim, and Doug felt a sharp pang of jealousy. Crowley's posture on the couch - his legs were sprawled open and his arms were spread, perched along the back of the couch - was illustrative of a natural, fearless confidence. Doug gulped, but his mouth was dry.
Doug reached the sitting area and stopped. He knew he would not be allowed to sit until he was commanded to, so he just stood with his arms at his sides and fidgeted nervously. His fully exposed cock was shriveled to its minimum size, and Doug could see it didn't even fill the small tube of his prison. Crowley sat before him, only feet away.
"Karen said she'd be back in a few minutes," Crowley said. "She asked me to wait here in case you showed up. She said she thought it would be good for us to have some alone time together, especially since you didn't call me." At this last comment, Crowley gestured with his eyes to Doug's crotch.
Perhaps it spoke to his fragile mental state, but Doug was thrown by Crowley's use of Dr. Rogers' first name. The familiarity tore at him, tying his roiling stomach into knots. His infatuation with Dr. Rogers went back over a decade, and he hated to think that other patients, especially this jerk from his high school class, had their own independent relationships with her that whole time.
The easy confidence with which Crowley had spoken the name revealed even more. Dr. Rogers had probably suggested that Crowley call her Karen, an offer she had never extended to Doug, even when they enjoyed a more traditional doctor-patient relationship. Doug had a flash of insight - Dr. Rogers had recognized Crowley as another adult, a co-equal, whereas Doug had never risen above a child in her eyes. The image of Dr. Rogers eagerly jerking Crowley's huge cock off onto her perfect beautiful breasts swam to the front of Doug's mind. It was safe to say that now was not the first time he had reckoned with that particular memory over the past week. Despite his intense humiliation, his penis tried to harden in its cage. Luckily, he was either too small to be perceptible or Crowley just didn't notice.
