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Message-ID: <62834asstr$1384449002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: John D <johndstories@gmail.com>
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 14 Nov 2013 00:26:46 UTC
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Subject: {ASSM} Caged! (f-solo, femdom, chastity)
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Date: Thu, 14 Nov 2013 12:10:02 -0500
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All my stories are located at http://www.johndstories.co.uk/


Grown men don't cry, do they?

They do. And I am crying.

I am crying, begging and pleading for the agony to stop; wishing and 
desperately hoping that she will yield and show mercy to me, but I know 
my cause is hopeless. She will not submit to my pitiful cries and deep 
down, I do not want her to.

My situation is somewhat strange: I separated from my wife and moved 
into a one half of a small country cottage on the outskirts of a plush 
village a few weeks before Christmas. I was welcomed by my new 
neighbour: a playful, cheerful young lady called Natalie, when she 
returned from her holiday. The walls were thin, but it was relatively 
cheap to rent, and I had a bedroom, shower, kitchen and living space as 
well as a shared garden that was not overlooked. It was perfect as I 
adjusted to my new life as a single man.

A shortage of ready cash meant that I intended to see in the New Year at 
home, and on learning that I would be alone, Natalie invited me to her 
flat for her "get together" with her friends. The cynic in me thought 
that if I was upstairs with her, then she wouldn't need to worry about 
the noise that her party made, but I appreciated the company.

I brought a couple bottles of wine, and was introduced to all of 
Natalie's friends, who were upwardly mobile, ambitious but borderline 
alcoholics and by the time Big Ben was bonging, it was just Natalie and 
myself who were not comatose or incoherent. "What's your New Year 
resolution?" She asked with glazed eyes as we talked alone in the 
kitchen, both of us keen to be away from the totally inebriated individuals.

"I'm going to lose weight," I promised. "I need to lose a couple of 
stone and it won't shift."

"You really want to?" She enquired. "I mean really want to?" She looked 
at me, trying to decide something as she appeared pensive. I never 
realised at the time, but on reflection there was a reticence and 
excitement in her facial expression that oozed scheming witch and 
screamed warning signals. "I have a plan that will make you lose weight 
but ..." She hesitated and peered through the doorway to her lounge, to 
check she wasn't being overheard. "It's not for the feint-hearted, but 
my friend lost over two stone by August and it works."

"Are you a fitness instructor?"

She laughed. "No. This is more ... intimate."

"Intimate?"

She winced and then, obviously feeling unsure of herself, the pretty 
girl told me to "forget it" but my interest was certainly piqued and I 
asked her to show me. She smiled and beckoned me into her bedroom, 
closing the door behind her and opening her bottom drawer, taking out a 
clear plastic contraption.

"What's that?"

"All the incentive you will need," she promised and knelt down in front 
of me, unbuckling my belt. I protested and asked what she was doing. 
"Trust me," she said, with a wicked grin and shielded her actions from 
my view. I felt my balls being stretched and touched and then something 
moving my cock.

"What are you doing?" I asked, feeling apprehensive about what she was 
planning, when she withdrew her hands and I looked down at my cock 
padlocked in a clear, perspex sheath, held on with a cock ring that went 
behind my testicles. "What is this?"

She giggled and held the key in front of my eyes, attached to a silver 
necklace that she put around her neck with a broad, beaming grin. "I'll 
weigh you every week," she promised. "Come here every Sunday evening. If 
you've lost three pounds or more, I'll take the chastity off for the 
week. If you haven't, it stays on."

"Hey," I moaned instinctively, but her confidence was clear and she 
tapped the key between her bosom.

"Gareth, two stone, five pound, eight months," she reminded me. "He took 
up squash, running, golf and walking to work." Her eyes glanced at my 
encased cock. "And the walls are thin. I hear you and your porn every 
night," she added with a giggle and tapped the hard plastic. "It will 
encourage you."

It did; the first four weeks I lost two pound a week and despite my 
initial misgivings about her scheme, it did work. I was losing weight, 
but getting desperate. Natalie was quite the minx, putting dirty 
pictures through my mailbox, or even turning up at my front door, 
dressed in just lingerie to "borrow some sugar." Not a day went past 
when I wasn't teased and my inability to masturbate increased my 
frustration.

On several days, I had to change my underpants at work, such was the 
volume of pre-cum that leaked from my incapacitated manhood; Natalie 
revelled in my discomfort and every week congratulated me on my weight 
loss but refused to relent about the chastity cage.

Four weeks had come and gone since I last orgasmed and as I stood on 
Natalie's scales, groaned as the reading showed another two pound loss. 
"Please," I cried, tears starting to form in my eyes. "My balls hurt so 
much and I just need it. Please, please, please," I begged. My genitals 
ached from the pain of abstinence, and I was desperate. Desperately 
pleading with the young lady to bring a hiatus to my torment and allow 
me access to my manhood for 24 hours; hopelessly begging her to slide 
the key into my padlock and give me a day, or an hour, or even just five 
minutes with my cock to alleviate my suffering.

I needed it, but she shook her head, as I buried my face in my hands. It 
was too much and I needed relief, but she sat on the floor in front of 
me, and slid open her dressing gown, leaning back against the wall. 
"Think," she muttered. "Think how good it will be when you are allowed."

The blonde lady averted her eyes and kissed the tip of her finger, 
tracing the outline of her body as her hand plunged between her bosom 
and dived underneath her pink dressing gown. I gulped; the feintest hint 
of bosom, the subtle shapes of her pert orbs sang from underneath the 
fleecy garment and I groaned; my cock strained in the plastic sheath and 
my soul weeped a bit more.

I needed relief. I needed to be free, but Natalie would not let me and 
glided her hand further down her body to touch her thighs and then lift 
the hem of her dressing gown. She flashed skin at me; the wondrous 
smooth skin of her inner thigh, openly flaunted at my eyeballs and I 
shivered; my cock responded and I felt an explosion of horniness engulf 
me as I whimpered in pain and frustration. "Easy," she teased as her 
fingers reached the top of her legs, and she parted them.

My whimperings turned into cries; her delicious slit winked at me as my 
perineum tightened and I fidgeted on the sofa. My eyes were glued to the 
sight in front of me, as Natalie's finger slid into the folds of her 
skin and sighed dramatically.

I clenched my fists; eager to release myself but was helpless. I was 
glued to the chair, I had to see this, but I needed to divest myself of 
sexual interaction; I could not cope with the temptation and teasing. 
Natalie knew that my resolve was weak but her fingers glided 
effortlessly over her clit before circling her button while watching me 
squirm.

I cried; tears rolled down my cheek as I desperately wanted to play with 
myself. Everything strained and ached; my lust engulfed me as every 
fibre of my being needed to touch myself. My soul cried and begged for 
mercy, hoping that Natalie would yield. But she did not.

She played with her cunt and groaned; her breathing ragged and snatched 
as her lithe body steadied itself for an orgasm, marked by loud squeals 
and desperate cries that filled the room.

I was weeping; desperation dripping from every part of my body as I 
begged, pleaded and beseeched my neighbour to give me the relief that I 
craved. She laughed. "No," she said firmly and smiled at the pool of 
pre-cum on her leather sofa. "Why not do a ten mile run tomorrow?" She 
asked and I nodded eagerly. "Then I might have to unlock you next week." 
She winked at me with a sly smile. "And then we can do that ... together!"

Now I know how her friend lost so much weight!

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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