The gym at Crestwood University echoed with the sharp squeak of sneakers and the steady thump of volleyballs. Richard Brown, the 40-year-old coach of the women’s volleyball team, the Crestwood Vipers, sat on a bench, trying to focus on the drills. At 5’5”, he felt small compared to the towering athletes, his clipboard a flimsy shield against their teasing. The girls, a pack of confident 20-somethings, had other plans for him today. Jenna, a brunette with a sly grin, bent over right in front of him to pick up her water bottle, her black biker shorts stretching tight over her plump ass, the outline of her thong peeking through. “Oops, sorry, Coach!” she chirped, her slow movements deliberate, her teammates giggling as they watched his reaction.
Richard’s face burned, his breath catching in his throat. The steel chastity cage locked around his cock pressed hard against his swelling flesh, offering no relief. Under the Locking Laws, every man over 18 wore a cage, their keys held by women or the state. Richard’s cage, made of 316 surgical stainless steel, was an open-bar design for easy cleaning, secured with a screw that kept it rattle-free. It hid well under his shorts, but when arousal hit—like now—it was merciless, the rigid bars biting into his smaller penis. His balls ached, heavy and full after a week of denial, the pressure a constant torment as the Vipers played their game.
Lily, a redhead with a mischievous glint in her eye, stretched her arms overhead, her neon green leggings riding up to show off her hips. “Coach, you’re sweating—are we working you too hard?” she teased, winking as the other girls laughed. Their toned legs and bouncing curves were a deliberate taunt, a daily test of Richard’s endurance in a world where women dressed to dominate. Leggings, biker shorts, and thongs were their weapons, designed to keep men like him in a state of aching need. Richard shifted on the bench, pre-cum slicking the steel bars, his clipboard forgotten as he fought to keep his composure.
The Locking Laws had reshaped society over the past decade. Men were fitted with steel cages at 18, their keys held by the government in Chastity Clinics for weekly unlocking sessions. Women over 18 could sign for a man’s key, gaining total control over his schedule—a power many used with relish. Some men, at their keyholder’s choice or for minor crimes, had ball shockers added, their faint hums a warning of potential jolts. Others, convicted of serious offenses, wore spiked cages with internal barbs, every movement agony. Flat cages, smaller and more restrictive, were used for tighter control, often mandated by the Clinic for serious convictions. Richard’s cage was standard, but the Vipers’ teasing made it feel like a prison of its own.
By the time practice ended that Friday afternoon, Richard was a mess. He hurried to the locker room, avoiding the girls’ knowing glances, the steel cage pressing hard with every step, his full balls throbbing. It was Friday—unlocking day at the Chastity Clinic, a ritual he both craved and dreaded. The anticipation had gnawed at him all week, his balls so full they felt ready to burst, the promise of relief tainted by the humiliation he knew would come. He drove to the Clinic just off campus, his hands tight on the steering wheel, his mind swirling with nerves and desperate hope.
The Chastity Clinic was a sleek, modern building, its glass facade reflecting the fading sunlight as Richard pulled into the crowded parking lot. Fridays were busy, with men of all ages arriving for their mandatory sessions, their faces a mix of shame and resignation. Richard parked and took a deep breath, the weight of his cage and the ache in his balls a constant reminder of what awaited inside. He stepped into the lobby, the air thick with antiseptic and a faint jasmine scent, undercut by the hum of ball-shock devices activating down the hall.
The lobby was a shrine to female supremacy. Posters lined the walls, showing smiling women holding keys, with slogans like Empowerment Through Control and Lock the Man, Free the Woman. Men sat on hard plastic chairs, eyes downcast, avoiding each other’s gaze. All wore steel cages, some with ball shockers or flat cages, their LEDs glowing—green for compliant, yellow for recent activity. A freshman stood near the entrance, his flat cage blinking yellow as his older sister scolded him for staring at a girl in class, her key necklace glinting. Richard approached the receptionist desk, his voice low as he gave his ID number.
Behind the desk sat an intern, a curvy blonde in a low-cut blouse, her cleavage spilling out as she leaned forward to check his file. “Richard Brown, Subject 4729… right on time for your little freedom session,” she teased, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Bet you’re dying to get that tiny thing out of its cage—don’t worry, we’ll have you leaking in no time!” She giggled, her chest jiggling, drawing Richard’s gaze despite himself. His cage pinched painfully, his full balls throbbing, but he forced his eyes to the floor, nodding stiffly as his face burned. “Sit over there by the window,” she said, pointing with a manicured nail, her smirk lingering. “You’ll get your turn soon.”
Richard shuffled to the corner, the hard plastic chair cold against his thighs. The wait felt endless, the air heavy with tension as the men around him shifted uncomfortably, the Clinic’s machinery humming ominously. A tall brunette in silver leggings stood at the desk, her massive ass a taunting display as she spoke sharply to a younger man with a flat cage, its orange LED signaling a keyholder change. “I’m taking over his key now—he begged his girlfriend for one night out, and she was foolish enough to consider it!” she snapped. Richard guessed she might be a professor, her authority clear, the young man likely a student under her control. The men in the lobby fought not to stare, their cages betraying them with every glance, the pressure building painfully.
A sharp voice broke the silence. “Subject 4729, Examination Room 4—now,” a nurse called out, her tone commanding. Richard stood, his legs shaky, the ache in his balls making each step a reminder of his need. The door to Room 4 was open, and inside stood Nurse Emily, a striking woman at 5’9” with jet-black hair in a tight ponytail, her olive skin glowing under the lights. Her white uniform hugged her curves, the fabric taut over her full breasts and toned thighs, a key dangling from her neck. Her dark eyes locked onto Richard, a smirk playing on her lips as he entered.
“Strip,” Emily ordered, her voice low and firm. Richard’s hands trembled as he pulled off his shirt, the cool air prickling his skin. His shorts and boxers followed, pooling at his ankles, leaving him exposed except for the steel cage. He piled his clothes on a metal table as Emily watched, her gaze piercing. “Everything off,” she added, noticing his phone in the pile. She grabbed it, scrolling through his photos with a frown. “No pictures, no videos—nothing to fuel your fantasies outside supervision,” she said sharply, locking the phone in a drawer. “You’ll get it back if you behave.”
Richard stood naked, shivering as Emily knelt in front of him, her face inches from his cage. A drop of pre-cum glistened at the tip, the steel slick with his frustration, his balls swollen and heavy from a week of denial. “Leaking already, huh?” she remarked, her voice amused as she ran a gloved finger along the bars, checking for tampering. Her fingers brushed his balls, sending a jolt of pain and arousal through him, more pre-cum dripping to the floor. “Pathetic,” she muttered, standing to grab her scanning device.
The room was stark—a metal chair in the center, a digital screen on the wall showing his stats, a sink with antiseptic wipes. A sign read, Efficiency is Obedience, and a speaker played a soft message: “Compliance ensures freedom—obey the Locking Laws.” Emily directed Richard to the chair, its surface cold against his bare skin. She scanned his cage, the screen beeping: “Subject 4729 — Chastity Cage Integrity: 100%.” She smirked. “Those volleyball girls must be putting on a show! Let’s get you cleaned.”
She unlocked the cage with a security screw key, the steel bars releasing with a click as his raw penis sprang free, red and irritated, pre-cum dripping onto the chair. Richard groaned, the brief relief overwhelming, his body trembling as the week’s pressure surged. Emily cleaned him with a cold antiseptic wipe, her gloved hands precise, then stepped back with a clipboard. “Three minutes to relieve yourself while I file your paperwork,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact, turning away. “You came in two minutes last week—don’t waste my time.”
Richard’s heart raced as he gripped his now-free penis, the sensation strange after a week of confinement. He stroked frantically, his smaller shaft throbbing, his full balls bouncing with each movement, the pressure unbearable. His mind filled with images of the Vipers—Jenna’s ass in her biker shorts, Lily’s teasing wink, Sierra’s neon pink leggings. He imagined Sierra kneeling before him, her tongue swirling around his cock, then turning to let him rub against her leggings, her curves jiggling as he thrust. In his fantasy, he came hard, spilling over her leggings, the relief shuddering through him. But in reality, his hand moved faster, the pressure wouldn’t build—he couldn’t finish, his body too overwhelmed.
“Time’s up,” Emily said, turning back as she set the clipboard down. Richard’s penis throbbed painfully, a bead of pre-cum at the tip, but he hadn’t cum, his balls still aching. “Please,” he begged, his voice hoarse, “just a little more time—I’m so close!” Emily’s smirk widened. “No exceptions,” she said, pulling an ice pack from a cooler, its surface frosted. “You had your chance—back in the cage.”
“No, please, no ice pack,” Richard pleaded, trying to will his erection down, his breathing shallow as he fought the arousal. The thought of the cage locking again was unbearable, his balls still so full, the brief freedom making it worse. But Emily shook her head. “We don’t have time—too many caged boys waiting. You’re getting locked up now.” She pressed the ice pack against his erection, the cold biting like needles, making him gasp and squirm. The freezing chill numbed his penis, forcing it to shrink, his balls tightening painfully as the cold spread, the ache lingering despite the deflation.
Emily set the ice pack aside, lubing the cage’s interior before positioning the steel bars around his flaccid penis. The cold metal slid on, the bars closing with a turn of the screw, Richard whimpering as the familiar weight settled back, his full balls trapped again. The screen updated, noting his “failure to ejaculate” and “elevated leakage.” Emily added, “Maybe next week you’ll be quicker—don’t let those girls get you too worked up, or we’ll schedule a behavior adjustment with a flat cage.” She handed him disinfectant wipes and his phone, her glance a warning. Richard dressed quickly, the cage heavy, the chill and ache in his balls a cruel reminder of his failure.
He shuffled back to the lobby, the receptionist desk quieter now, the intern still there, her cleavage on display as she typed. She glanced at the wet spot on his shorts, smirking. “Rough session, huh? Better luck next week,” she teased, handing him his exit pass, her chest jiggling as she leaned forward. Richard’s cage pinched, his balls throbbing, but he muttered a thanks and hurried out, the evening air doing little to soothe the lingering chill or the heat of his humiliation.
Driving back to his apartment complex, Richard’s mind was a haze of frustration, the car engine’s hum no distraction from the ache in his groin. He pulled into the lot of his modest building, a few miles from campus, and sat for a moment, gripping the steering wheel as he tried to compose himself. The cage and the throbbing of his full balls felt heavier than ever, a reminder of his failure. He stepped out, the cool air brushing his skin as he walked toward his apartment, passing the complex’s pool area on the way.
A soft moan stopped him. Near the diving board, a couple was in a private moment—a man knelt behind a woman in a red bikini, her curves glistening with pool water, her long black hair cascading down her back. His shorts were down, a steel cage with a ball shocker dripping onto the concrete, its hum suggesting strict control. “Well, what do we have here?” she purred, noticing Richard. “Come join us—but you have to kneel.” Richard’s hands shook as he unfastened his shorts, letting them fall, his cage slick as he knelt beside the man.
The woman turned slightly, her red bikini bottom riding low, revealing the curve of her ass as she looked down at them with a wicked grin. Her skin glistened with a mix of pool water and sweat, the moonlight casting a silver sheen over her body. “I want you both to lick my asshole,” she said, her voice a sultry command, “taking turns, nice and slow. Show me how desperate you locked boys can be.” She shifted, bending forward slightly, her bikini bottom sliding down just enough to expose her tight, puckered hole, the scent of chlorine and her musky arousal filling the air. Richard’s cage throbbed, pre-cum dripping as he leaned in, his tongue trembling as he made first contact, the earthy taste mixing with the pool water’s tang. He lapped carefully, feeling her clench against him, her soft moan spurring him on.
“Now switch,” she ordered, her tone sharp, and her boyfriend took over, his tongue working eagerly as Richard pulled back, his face flushed, the taste lingering on his lips. The man’s cage dripped steadily beside him, their shared humiliation a silent bond under her gaze. She ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes glinting with amusement as she watched them. “Look at that cage,” she said, her gaze flicking to Richard’s steel bars, slick with pre-cum. “It’s just like my brother’s—same open design, same pathetic little screws. He used to leak like you do, always begging for a break.” She chuckled, her laugh a sharp edge that cut through the warm night air, making Richard’s stomach twist with shame.
She straightened, pulling her bikini bottom aside to reveal her glistening pussy, her arousal evident in the slick sheen. “Now, let’s see who can make me cum first,” she said, her voice dripping with challenge. “Use your tongues on my pussy—one at a time. Whoever gets me there first gets a little reward.” Richard went first, his tongue diving into her folds, the salty-sweet taste overwhelming as he licked with desperate precision, her moans guiding him. Her thighs trembled, but she pushed him back after a minute, her breath hitching. “Not bad,” she teased, “but let’s see if my boy can do better.” Her boyfriend took over, his tongue working faster, her moans growing louder until she gasped, her body shuddering as she came, her fingers gripping his hair. “That’s my good boy,” she purred, catching her breath as she looked down at them both.
She smirked at Richard, her eyes narrowing as she assessed him. “Your keyholder must be strict—look at how backed up you are, leaking all over the place. But you’re obedient, I’ll give you that. She’s trained you well to follow orders without hesitation.” She turned to her boyfriend, her tone softening slightly. “And you, my sweet pet—you’re so close to getting unlocked next week. Keep behaving like this, and I might just let you out for a real release.” Her words hung in the air, a promise that made her boyfriend’s eyes light up with desperate hope, while Richard’s heart sank, his own cage a reminder of his failed session at the Clinic.
She adjusted her bikini, stepping back to present her ass to them, her cheeks full and glistening with a mix of pool water and their saliva. “Since you both tried so hard, here’s your reward,” she said, her voice teasing. “You get to kiss my juicy ass cheeks—one kiss each, make it count.” Richard leaned in, his lips trembling as he pressed them to her left cheek, the soft, warm flesh yielding slightly, the taste of her skin a mix of salt and chlorine that made his cage throb harder. Her boyfriend mirrored him on the right, their kisses a synchronized act of worship as she giggled above them, her dominance absolute. “Good boys,” she cooed, running her fingers along their cages one last time, making them leak even more, small puddles forming on the concrete beneath them.
She pulled her bikini back into place, her smirk satisfied as she looked down at them. “That’s all for now, boys,” she said, examining the trails of pre-cum on her legs. Without being told, her boyfriend knelt to lick his off her right leg, his eyes downcast in submission. Richard followed on her left, the salty taste of his own arousal a bitter reminder of his denied state. She reached down, squeezing Richard’s swollen balls through his shorts, making him gasp. “Such a good boy, following commands. Your keyholder taught you well,” she laughed, her tone mocking. She turned and strutted away, her boyfriend scurrying after her like an obedient puppy, leaving Richard kneeling, his cage aching, balls throbbing.
Inside his sparse apartment, Richard collapsed onto the couch, the silence stark after the day’s chaos. He lived alone, a small mercy in a world where many men were monitored by keyholders. His walls held old volleyball trophies, a reminder of a freer time. He tried to focus on game strategies, but his mind drifted to the pool, the woman’s red bikini blending into his torment. His cage felt heavier, the steel slick as he leaked, the chill from the ice pack and the ache in his balls a constant reminder of his failure. He groaned, rubbing the cage through his shorts, knowing it was futile—the steel denied any sensation.
A knock at the door startled him. Adjusting his shorts to hide the wet spot, he opened it to find Sierra, a 5’10” Amazonian blonde with a huge, jiggly ass, still in her neon pink leggings, her volleyball bag over her shoulder. She smirked, leaning against the doorframe, her height making him feel smaller. “Hey, Coach,” she said, her voice teasing, “I forgot to mention—I’ve talked to the Clinic about transferring your key to me. They said it’s possible if I sign with you present, but I figured I’d come by and persuade you.”
She stepped inside, her ass jiggling with each step, and Richard’s cage tightened, his full balls throbbing at the sight. His keys were still under Clinic control, making her offer bold. She dropped her bag and turned, hands on her hips, her blonde hair cascading as she tilted her head. “So, what do you say, Coach? Ready to let me hold your key? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” She winked, bending over to adjust her bag, her leggings stretching taut. Richard’s heart pounded, his mind torn between fear and longing, the Locking Laws looming as the cage and the ache in his balls pressed down like a storm cloud.
He opened his mouth, but no words came, his cage unyielding as Sierra straightened, her smirk widening. “I’ll give you some time to think about it,” she said, heading for the door. “But don’t take too long, Coach—I’m not a patient girl.” Her laughter lingered as she left, and Richard sank back onto the couch, trembling with unfulfilled desire, the weight of her offer and the ache in his balls a heavy storm cloud on the horizon.
