Chapter 3
Sunday was laundry day. I managed to keep myself occupied all morning without obsessing too much about the steel prison that encompassed my cock and balls. The metal had warmed against my skin, and I wore a tight jockstrap that kept it in place so the lock didn't jingle around when I walked up and down the stairs of my apartment building.
Things got a little annoying around noon when I was in the laundry room finishing up my final load of clothes. This hot slab of beefcake strutted in with a basket full of filthy work clothes. I could smell the stench of dried sweat and grease wafting in the air. He acknowledged me with a smile that turned my legs to jelly. He was young, boyish, with defined arms that flexed when he lifted the lid of the washing machine.
Judging by his pile of dull gray shirts and pants smeared with oily black streaks, I figured he did some sort of work with cars. I was ready to ask him if he wanted to take a look under my hood, but as soon as my mind started plotting, I was punished with the painful pressure of my cock cage. I snarled and threw the rest of my clothes in the basket, not even bothering to fold them. I'd sort them out when I got upstairs.
Fuck.
I trudged out of the room without throwing a second glance his way. It was pointless to wonder if the mechanic was flirting. There was nothing I could do about it.
The rest of the afternoon was spent cleaning. That's what I did when I needed a distraction. That, or working out. I thought about throwing together a new video for my online channel, but I was paranoid that too much movement would create a clinking sound from the lock. Better stick to cleaning.
I started with the kitchen, wiping down all the countertops, stove, oven, fridge, and microwave. I even got on a step stool and dusted the top of my cabinets. I don't think those had ever been cleaned in the three years I'd lived there. Next was the living room, guest bathroom, guest bedroom, which I'd converted to a small studio for my videos, and finally, my bedroom and bathroom.
By dinnertime, I was exhausted and my entire home—all nine hundred square feet of it—smelled like a lemon grove. It was kind of nice being so focused and productive. I decided to throw my usual strict diet out the window and ordered a meat lover's pizza. When the fat-laden masterpiece arrived, I crashed on the couch to enjoy it while mindlessly binge-watching TV for the rest of the night. I went to bed with a gut full of greasy goodness and balls full of neglected semen.
Day one was done. I wondered how I was going to make it the rest of the week.
Monday was a productive day at work. I had a desk job at a medical supply company. It was tedious work, mostly just pushing paper around, but I had steady hours and good benefits. My brain felt weirdly re-wired that day. It was like a fog had been lifted. I'd knocked out the stack of folders piled on my desk by 2 p.m., so I spent the rest of the afternoon reorganizing my file system, cleaned out the junk in my drawers, and then cleaned up my computer's folders and installed all the software updates I'd been ignoring for months.
The cock cage was beginning to feel like an extension of my body. It was somehow comforting as if it were cradling and protecting me. Stupid, I know.
Using the bathroom was a bit of a charade. Urine flowed through the opening at the tip, so I was able to pee freely, but it also sprayed out the sides between the spirals. I had to sit down to avoid making a mess.
I'd also resorted to taking baths instead of showers. The design of the tube made it easy to stay fresh, but I liked the way the bath water floated in and rinsed everything out. Soaking also seemed to soothe to my swollen scrotum.
Tuesday was a different story. My clarity and focus turned to anger and resentment. There was a boiling pressure building inside me. I had a bad day at the office, which was rare because I usually didn't have any stress in my life. This one vendor was really getting on my nerves. She kept fucking up a bulk order and I kept having to send it back to her. It probably wasn't as big a deal as I was making it, but I was so damn on edge anyway, I think it intensified my frustration.
When I got home that night, I went right to my bedroom to try out an idea I'd been cooking up. In my nightstand was a small vibrating egg. Small but mighty. It had a loud and powerful motor that I loved putting in my ass when I jacked off. But tonight, I had different plans for it.
I didn't even bother getting fully undressed. I wrenched my pants down around my ankles and held the small egg in my hand, feeling its velvety soft silicone shell. A long black wire was attached, leading to a remote control. I pulled out a condom and stretched it over my cock cage, then popped the egg inside the latex sheath so it pressed against the end of the tube where my cock head was.
With the press of a button, the egg roared to life, vibrating against the steel. I began tingling all over, feeling the waves against my cock and balls. It felt like one collective bundle of nerves being stimulated at once.
My cock plumped up, trying to rebel against the pressure of its prison. When it was painfully pushed to its limits, some of the blood drained from my veins, bringing me down to a semi. That was fine. My pleasure blocked out any discomfort.
It didn't take long before I felt an orgasm building inside me. Warmth spread through me and my whole body tightened. Here it came. I closed my eyes and imagined a river of thick white semen surging through my nuts, all the way up my cock, and bursting out of me. And then my fantasy came true.
Sweet relief.
It felt like a gallon of cum was exploding out of me. I looked down and watched it seep out of the sides of my cage, smeared all over the black egg and filling the condom.Finally.
The last time I'd gotten off had been Thursday night, and now it was Tuesday. It had to be some kind of record for me. I didn't think I'd ever gone that long without release since I first learned how to beat off in the seventh grade.
And Bear had wanted me to hold it in a whole week. No thanks, pal.
I still felt a little plugged up, so I went for a second round later that night after eating dinner and recuperating. Then I did it again on Wednesday. And Thursday. And Friday. It became a sport. An act of defiance.
On Saturday morning, I decided to skip it. That would be my compromise, my peace offering. I'd hold off until that night.
Before heading to the bathhouse, I took a long, hot bath and made sure to spend plenty of time with my cock submerged in the water. I wanted to make sure every remnant of spunk was cleaned out so there wouldn't be any evidence. Afterwards, I turned on the shower head and aimed it into the crevices of the cage to power-blast it clean. I wasn't taking any chances.
At 9:05, I strutted into the bathhouse, saying my usual hellos. Yeah, I was a few minutes late. I did it to piss off Bear. He struck me as the type of guy who expected punctuality, and I was betting that even five minutes would be enough to chap his ass.
I was right.
He was sitting on a sofa in the lounge, arms crossed and a stern look on his face. I kinda hoped he'd spank me as punishment.