Daughter Holds the Eys

The weekend passed mostly without incident. The girls teased Robert as usual, with little flirts or casual mentions of his cage, but for the most part went about their business as usual. Robert spent Saturday evening with some friends, and was glad when no talk came up about the state of their blue balls. Sunday passed quietly—Brooke nearly caught a glimpse of him leaving the shower, but for how quickly she hurried away when he saw her, Robert genuinely suspected that it had been an accident. All weekend, though, he found himself unable to stop thinking about the website he had browsed. And so on Sunday night he found himself sitting in bed, with his cock pounding helplessly again while he perused the site

Daughter Holds the Keys

.

My daughter lets me out once per week,

he read.

But it's basically the same as at a clinic. She makes me kneel, and gives me only a minute to cum. Sometimes less. If she's feeling generous, she'll let me look at her legs while I jerk off. Once she wore a sexy bathing suit. She holds up her phone with the timer on, and teases me the whole time that if I don't cum fast like an inexperienced teenager, she'll lock me back up until next time. I almost always finish before the time is up.

Robert shivered. He could remember his wife playing a similar game with him. His cock ached all night, but he couldn't stop clicking through the website. He didn't know what time it was, when he finally fell asleep.

===

He woke the next morning to a knock at his door. He blinked awake, mumbling as he looked over to see that it was still half an hour before he usually got up.

"Daddy?" he heard Claire ask, from outside his room. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, come in," he called.

Claire stepped into his bedroom wearing a white shirt and another pair of shorts that were basically panties. She was already made up for the day, and Robert wasn't sure if it was his imagination, that her gaze slid down his bare chest as she came in. "Uh...Brooke and I are leaving early, to meet up with some friends for breakfast before class," she said. "I just wanted to talk to you for a second before we go..."

Nervousness washed through Robert at her words, and suddenly, sitting in bed before her, wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms and his cage, he felt helpless.

"If you really don't want me to have your keys, I'll drop it," Claire said. "Really. I'm sorry about the other night...if that was weird, with the police officer. I know you liked it a bit, but—"

"No I didn't," he protested, "what are you—"

"Daddy, come

on

. What guy

wouldn't

like having a nice girl touch his balls? It's

okay

. Jesus!" She huffed, and for a second it looked like she might turn and leave, but then she composed herself again. "Whatever. If you're really happy to keep things the way they are, then I'll stop bringing it up. Brooke and I are gonna be out a lot this week, so you'll have some space to really think about it...we'll be out late tonight, and then from tomorrow until Friday afternoon we'll be staying at Jess' place. We've got a ton of projects to all work on, so we figured we'd just crash together for the rest of the week."

"Oh. Okay." The thought of having the house to himself for a while was actually a relief.

"When we get home, I'll ask you one more time. Brooke has thought of a fun little test. If you really don't want all the things that can come with me holding your keys, then fine. We'll leave you alone. But if not..."

Robert's heart pounded. "A test?" he asked. "What kind of test?"

Claire only smiled. "I can't tell you," she said. "Brooke had a few ideas. I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

Robert was left frozen in place as she vanished. He sat in bed as he listened to the sounds of the girls packing up and leaving, and then in a flash he was out of his

room, and into theirs.

He didn't know what he was looking for. A diary? That was stupid.

What kind of test?

Claire's bedroom was a mess, but more an eclectic bunch of ornaments and posters and books, than of dirty laundry. A guitar rested on a stand in the corner. Her bedside table didn't contain anything memorable. Brooke's made him freeze in an instant. He pulled the top drawer open, and sitting there, laid out perfectly, was a single pair of red and lacy panties. His heart caught in his throat. He hadn't even considered what kind of lewd things he might find.

What kind of test?

He stared at Brooke's panties, and his thoughts raced.

If you let us hold your keys, I'll let you see me in these,

he imagined her saying.

I'll wear these and nothing else, and I'll get on my knees and I'll unlock your cage and I'll let you cum all down my throat...

He sunk to his knees, and gingerly opened the tiny door of the bedside table. The butterflies in his stomach lurched as he saw what was inside.

Handcuffs. Pink and frilly. There were two vibrators—a hitachi and a thin gold one. A blue gall gag. And a pink strapon. The fabric of the harness was limp where it lay, but the dildo was hard, and the sight of it made him jealous as he knelt. He could remember overhearing the girls' lovemaking the other night...had it been Brooke using the strapon on Claire? The mental image of his daughter sucking the thing made his balls hurt.

If you let us hold your keys, I'll let you watch me fuck her,

he heard Brooke offering, now.

I'll let you touch your cock while I make Claire beg for mine. Wouldn't that be nice?

No,

he told himself, even as he was stuck on the floor. He had perused the website

Daughter Holds the Keys

enough by now to know that his wish would be twisted, if he gave up the keys. And in his thoughts, the fantasy of the watching the girls have sex while he jerked off over them changed. Now, he was kneeling in the corner, still locked while they made each other cum. And then Brooke's mouth was on his balls, and Claire was asking him over and over again,

don't you wish you could come out, daddy?

His breath shook, and he turned his head slowly to look to Claire's side of the room. What would he find, if he went looking? Would he find sexy panties that she only wore for Brooke? Lingerie? Would he find

her vibrators

? Did she even own one just for herself?

The fantasy changed again, and now he was watching Claire masturbate. He was on his hands and knees, and Brooke was behind him wearing her pink strapon, and giggling while she fucked him so slowly—

Robert bolted to his knees, and rushed out of the room. His cock felt ready to explode—ready to break clean through the steel of his chastity cage. His breath was fast as though he had run a marathon.

No more visiting that site,

he thought.

No more. Never again.

He pulled the door closed, and leaned against the wall. He could hardly find the strength to move.

What kind of test?

He wondered again.

Whatever it is...whatever they offer...it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. Nothing can be worth it.

Can it?

From down the hall, his alarm clock rang. Robert staggered back to his room, carrying balls that seemed to be dragging him downwards as he went. He had never been so horny in his life. Never. He would give absolutely anything to cum. Anything at all.

But not that. Not the keys. Not to Claire. I can't.

Maybe, though...

What if she really does want to be nice about it?

What if she doesn't want to tease me?

What if she just wants the keys to be in the house, so that I can cum? What if she really does just like the idea of me masturbating to her? What if it would just make her feel sexy? She said she just wants to feel more confident...to get used to a man being hard in front of her...

The thoughts kept him company as he showered and ate his breakfast. His pulse quieted as he got ready for work, but his mind was at war. Usually his morning routine helped to put him at peace for the day, after his nights filled with erotic dreams or frustrating visits to the internet...but today he couldn't find that calm. The sharp suit jacket and expensive watch didn't do a thing to put him at ease.

What if I gave her the keys?

He wondered.

It would be better than this.

There would need to be ground rules. Maybe we could talk about those when she gets home. I can't have her taking all my money and forcing me to sign the car over to her...I can't let it lose me my job

.

Don't do it, then,

the rest of him said, firmly and with the same authority that he had used to close a thousand business deals.

Don't do it. Crush it at work. Get a pay raise. Get two. And another and another, until you're rich as fuck and you can pay to have your keys transferred to a gold-star facility. Somewhere that you can have some girl slobbering over your cock every week when she unlocks you.

He stood from the table with fire in his breath. And then he was shattered all over again, as he looked across the living room and realized that the picture of Claire and Brooke in their bikinis was still sitting there, waiting for him.

If they're not home until Friday...I can take the picture to the clinic on Thursday after work. And they'll never know.

He thought of nothing else, all day.

===

The week went well. Claire's texts were mundane. Robert watched his favorite shows, and swam uninterrupted in his pool. He had a friend over on Wednesday—something that he had never dared to do, once Brooke had moved in. He somehow managed not to visit the website again, or to sneak back into Claire's bedroom. But he couldn't stop his fantasies. And he couldn't stop staring at the picture she had left for him. He hadn't touched it, since she had left, but at all hours of the day when he was home, he could feel its presence, as though he was tethered to it. The thought of having a two-week orgasm while he stared at their bikini-clad bodies was enough to keep him up at night and to distract him at work, and so on Thursday morning he called in sick. He didn't know how his secretary knew that Thursday was his unlocking day, but he had suspected it for a while. And from the smile in her voice when he told her he wasn't coming in, he knew for a fact that she had guessed he was staying at home in mindless anticipation of the afternoon's orgasm.

He killed time all day by doing some work, and by swimming laps again. But his cock pulsed every second, and the minutes passed like hours. Every single sound from the road made his heart sink, with fear that the girls had decided to come back early. Around noon he texted Claire again, to suggest that he make dinner when they got home on Friday. And to his relief, she gave the answer he wanted—one that didn't suggest they would be home before Friday after school.

He left the house a full hour and a half before his unlocking was scheduled, and with his hands trembling took the picture of Claire and Brooke out of its frame. The thing felt like it was burning him, as he tucked it carefully away inside his jacket, praying that it wouldn't crease too much and that the nurses at the clinic wouldn't take it away. He had to calm himself down, as he got behind the wheel of his car. His head was nearly swimming.

He took a long way to the clinic, but still arrived twenty-five minutes before his appointment. He sat in his car a while longer, drumming his fingers against the wheel and with his cock screaming to be free.

What kind of test?

He wondered.

By the time they're home, I'll be able to think more clearly, he considered. One day after my unlocking...they won't be able to do a thing. Let them parade naked in front of me—I won't give them the time of day.

The thought made a drip of precum spill from his cock, but still he stepped with determination out of his car. He could feel his footsteps echoing off the pavement as he went to the clinic door, as though with every passing moment the universe was waiting to interfere with his plans. But no, the place wasn't unexpectedly closed. There wasn't an impossibly long line at the counter. There weren't a team of reporters waiting inside to ask him about the picture in his jacket. The lady who looked up from the computer when he approached didn't immediately ask him why he had brought contraband to the facility.

"Name?" she asked politely. She was probably near his age. Her eyes were bright behind her glasses, and she was certainly no model but Robert could imagine how nice she might look naked.

"Uhhm, Decker," he coughed. The place was not busy, but still the waiting room seemed to swallow his voice. "Robert Decker. I have an appointment at—"

"Yes, here we are," the receptionist said, with a click at her computer. "You're here early, Mister Decker. Eager boy this week, hmm?"

Robert blushed but held his composure.

"Molly will show you to your room. Molly!"

The assistant who appeared out of the hallway was the same young red-head who had brought Robert the ice pack last week. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, as she met his gaze. "Hey there!" she chirped. "Come with me."

Robert could feel his legs turning to jelly, as he went with her down to one of the

rooms. Her outfit hugged her ass so tightly, and her eyes were so pretty as she pointed him into the room.

"You know the drill," she said. "Clothes in the basket. I'll take them away, and then be back with your key."

"I have a..." Robert stuttered, flushing thoroughly again as she watched him undress. "I have a picture with me. I hoped I could...keep it?"

Molly smiled prettily. "Sure," she said. "You deserve it, after last week."

The relief nearly knocked him flat. But he took the picture from his jacket pocket, and placed it face-down on the table to Molly couldn't see, and she made no move to take it away. For a moment Robert worried that she would ask to see it, but she didn't do that either.

When at last he was naked, and had placed all his clothes in the waiting basket, Molly knelt to take it away. "Alright, I'll be right back," she said. "Would you like for me to bring a timer, also? I could watch you work, and make sure that you don't lose track of time like you did last week?"

"No," he said. "No, please..."

"I'm only teasing," she giggled. "Sit tight. Try not to drip all over the place, okay?"

She closed the door, and Robert sat naked with nothing but his cage and the picture for company. He sat on chair, covered in medical paper, and stole a glance at the picture again. Precum ran from his cock, and his heart was racing as it had never done before. He could hear footsteps passing in the hall outside.

Was time dragging slowly, or was Molly taking a long time? She had taken his watch, so he couldn't say for sure. But then after a while, he began to worry.

What's taking so long?

He wondered.

Oh God...please...

He had never wanted to cum so badly. And he was

so

close...

His raving thoughts were interrupted as the door opened again. But when Molly stepped back into the room, she was still carrying the basket full of all his clothes.

"There seems to be a problem, Mister Decker," she said.

No, no, no, no, no...

"What...what kind of problem?" he managed.

"We don't have your keys."

The silence that hung between them made up some of the worst few moments of Robert's life.

"

What?

" he demanded.

"We don't have your keys. Looks like they were signed out."

"That's impossible."

Claire can't have taken them. She can't have. She's not twenty-one yet.

"Someone named Sophie Decker signed them out, looks like. She had the proper documentation."

"That's...no.

No

. I haven't seen my sister in

years

. How would she even know—whatever. Can you please check again? Please?"

"I did, Mister Decker. Your keys aren't here. I'm sorry. Could you get dressed?"

Robert was frozen, still. He felt like he might cry. Did he even have Sophie's phone number?

He moved like he was underwater, as he dressed again. He wiped another drip of precum away from his cock, before fastening his pants again, and he put his jacket back on with the same practiced confidence that he had done a million times. He knew how to keep his composure, under pressure. But inside he was screaming.

"Don't worry, Mister Decker," Molly said kindly. "I'm sure it will work out. I can find her contact information, if you don't have it. I'll have someone give you a call tomorrow?"

"Yes. Yes, thank you Molly." He left the room before her, with full balls for the second time in eight days.

The drive home went by in a flash. Robert was amazed that he didn't crash. And when he pulled into his driveway, his heart sunk even further as he saw Claire's car parked there already.

He waited in the driveway while his thoughts raced. If they hadn't been home for too long...maybe he could get back inside, and put the picture back in its place. If he could avoid them until tomorrow...if he could avoid their test until he could find out how his sister had gotten his chastity keys...

He stepped into the house to find his plans all blown to hell. Claire and Brooke were sitting in the living room, just as they had been last week when he had arrived home from the clinic. Claire sat with her legs crossed, and her foot dangling. Brooke was lying down on the couch, and it looked very much like the was touching herself. Past them, the empty picture frame sat where Robert had left it. There was no chance in hell that they hadn't noticed.

"Hey, daddy," Claire said, as he stepped inside. She looked to him with a smile. "How was your unlocking?"

Robert only stood frozen. His mouth worked, but no sound came out.

"Aunt Sophie says hi," said Claire. And then she held up his chastity keys for him to see, glinting silver and tinkling in the light. And he realized that on the coffee table in front of her, there rested a glass bell jar. He had seen lockboxes like it before. "So..." Claire asked. "Are you sure you don't want me to hold your keys?"