Scott gasped in relief as Joe finally took the ice bag away.
Suddenly, Joe dropped to his knees in front of Scott.
Still not entirely up to date on current events, Scott’s cock instantly tried to rise to an occasion that might include a blowjob, but the ice had done its job well. Joe had no problem tugging his balls through a small metal ring, or fitting the metal cage over his soft shaft.
Scott whimpered as Joe slid a lock into place and clicked it shut.
Joe sat back on his heels.
“It’s good that you’ve remembered to keep yourself shaved. It hurts like hell if a pube gets caught in the cage—or so I’ve been told.” Their gaze met. Even with Joe on his knees before him, Scott had never been more aware that Joe was the kind of man who took control of other guys’ cocks, and not someone who would ever end up in a chastity cage himself.
Joe straightened up. “How does it feel?”
“Ok-k-kay.”
Joe raised an eyebrow.
“A b-bit heavy, but ok-kay, s-sir.”
Joe stood up. “It will make sure you get through the tour without coming without permission. Its main purpose is to help you obey that order.”
Scott nodded.
“Its other purpose is to look as hot as hell.”
Scott took a deep breath and let it out very slowly.
“When the tour is over, I’ll take it off and let you come.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“If you’re very good, I might not lock it back on you before I take you home tonight.”
Scott met Joe’s eyes. It was impossible to tell if he was teasing, or if he really was considering making him stay in chastity until their next date. Against all logic, the idea made Scott’s cock try to get hard inside the cage.
“Come on.” Joe held out his hand to Scott.
Taking his hand, Scott walked forward at Joe’s side. Each step reminded him of the cage around his cock. Each movement seemed to tug gently at the top of his shaft and, as the effect of the ice faded away, his cock responded by swelling and starting to harden.
“What do you think?” Joe asked, as he brought them to a stop next to a spanking bench padded in deep red leather.
“I l-loved it w-when you spanked me before, s-sir,” Scott offered.
“Yes, but that was with my bare hand. Now, it’s time to try something new. Pick a number between one and ten.”
An order was an order, even if it didn’t make much sense. “F-five?” Scott hazarded, at random.
Joe pointed to the wall alongside the bench. There was a cabinet there with lots of differently shaped and sized doors—each one numbered. “Go and see what you’ve picked.”
Scott cautiously approached the cabinets. The doors weren’t in number order. It took him a few moments to find number five. The door was tall and narrow. Scott opened it and took out a crop. The tip was cut into the shape of a butterfly, which seemed like a very un-Joe-like thing.
“Not a bad choice,” Joe said.
It felt odd in Scott’s hands, as if a deep instinctive part of him knew that he wasn’t someone who should be wielding it. It belonged in the hands of a dom. Scott quickly carried the crop across to Joe, but hesitated a step away from him.
It seemed wrong to just hand the thing over as if it was no more interesting than a sandwich. Scott knelt down, resting the crop on both of his palms, and offered it to Joe, in rough imitation of pictures he’d seen on the internet.
“Good boy.” Joe reached past the crop and stroked Scott’s cheek. He brushed his thumb against Scott’s lips before casually penetrating his mouth with it. “So good.” He picked up the cropwith his free hand, but didn’t rush to take his thumb out of Scott’s mouth.
