Scott’s shaft strained against the bars of his cage. His mouth watered in the hope that Joe would offer him his cock to suck on next, but Joe helped him up off his knees instead.
“Sh-should I?” Scott pointed to the spanking bench.
“No, we’re not stopping here. If I get you on a spanking bench now, we’ll never finish the tour.” Rather than offer Scott his hand again, he tapped Scott on the arse, quite firmly, with the crop.
Scott lurched forward, more in surprise than pain, making Joe laugh. Scott smiled back at him. The crop had looked both odd and intimidating when it was in the cupboard. It had looked unwieldy while Scott held it. But, it looked very different in Joe’s hand. Once Joe was in control of it, it became something that looked natural and comfortable. Scott was sure it would provide far more pleasure than pain.
For better or worse, Scott couldn’t say the same for some of the equipment they walked past. Bloody hell, most of it would have been rejected by the Inquisition as too extreme.
“Try it out for size.”
Scott turned around very slow, his mind racing with guesses as to what Joe was pointing out behind him.
A cage.
Scott stared down at it for several seconds. It looked like a mini version of the kind of cages used by old fashioned circuses, except it was way too small for a lion—maybe more the size for a largish dog—or a man on his hands and knees.
A shiver of anticipation ran up Scott’s spine, mixed with relief at Joe having picked something that Scott was reasonably sure he could cope with.
Scott lowered himself to his knees and set his hands on the floor in front of him. The cock cage pulled in a slightly differentdirection now. It took him a few seconds of shuffling awkwardly on his knees before he could pick up the pace and crawl past Joe toward the cage door.
Joe helpfully opened it for him.
“In you go.” He gave Scott a couple of taps with the crop to encourage him forward. The impact still wasn’t enough to hurt, just enough to sting pleasantly, and to make Scott wonder what it would feel like when Joe finally decided he was willing to use it in earnest.
The cage door clanged when Joe closed it. Something that small should never have been able to make that much noise. Scott squirmed, attempting poses that would challenge most yoga instructors, in his desperation to face the door—to face Joe.
“I’ve seen a lot of guys locked in this cage over the years,” Joe said, crouching down so they were closer to eye level with each other.
“You c-come here a lot, s-sir?”
“I’ve worked here off and on for a few years.”
“Is there anywhere in the c-city to d-d-do with sex that you haven’t w-w-worked?” Scott blurted out.
Joe laughed. “Well, there’s one lesbian pub on the outskirts of the city which, for some reason, has never offered me a job. Apart from that, not really. The phrase sex sells exists for a reason. Places like this pay well. Even in a recession, people still want to get laid, and they want to get whipped. Some even want to be put in cages.”
Scott tried to sit back on his heels and straighten up, but there wasn’t enough head height. He had to keep his hands on the floor in front of him and his body bent forward.
“What usually h-h-happens to guys when they’re in the c-c-cage?” Scott asked carefully.
“Depends what they’re into?”
“You,” Scott replied.
“I’m your fetish?” Joe asked, with obvious amusement.
But Scott wasn’t joking. He nodded, perfectly seriously.
“Some guys blow whoever sticks their cock through the bars of the cage. Others get teased.” Joe seemed to think for a while. “If I put you in there, it would be so you could feel safe while you had a rest between rounds. I’d pull up a chair and rest my feet on top of the cage—have a chat to some old friends while you have a nap—or at least get your breath back—you’d probably be too frustrated to actually sleep.”
Long before Joe had finished the first sentence, Scott’s cock was straining against his cage. The image expanded to fill his whole mind.
“Then, when I thought you’d rested for long enough, I’d release you.” Joe picked up something from a container alongside the cage. “But, if the club was actually open, I wouldn’t be letting you wander around on your own. I’d want to keep you close at heel, wouldn’t I, Scottie?”
He reached through the bars of the cage and slipped a chain link collar around Scott’s neck. “Of course, this is just a practical bit of bondage, it isn’t arealcollar. A real collar would have a tag on it saying Property of Joe, and it wouldn’t ever leave your neck.”
Property of Joe.
