By nyc49

Eventually the door to the basement was unlocked, and Len came down the stairs with a key in his hand. “Ready to be unlocked?” he asked. First he unlocked the chain from the pole, leaving me to wonder if he was going to have me drag this chain around for a while. But then he unlocked the cuff around my foot. “Come upstairs for breakfast.”

I still hadn’t gotten used to hanging around people who were fully clothed when I was naked myself, but I didn’t really have much choice in the matter. Also, it was good to be able to move all of my limbs in any direction. If only my dick weren’t locked up.

My hosts started to make noises about leaving, and I was wondering if I was going to have to wear the cage home like I did last time. Bill brought out a bag, which turned out to have my clothes in it, as well as something else: an old wrestling singlet.

“Here’s what we’re going to do to make your trip home a little more interesting. First, put your jockstrap back on.” Since he didn’t mention anything about unlocking the chastity cage, I guess this meant I was going home locked. “Next, time to put that prostate massager in another time. We recharged it while you were asleep. Should have a few hours of juice in it.” I did so, carefully.

“OK, so we found this singlet for you to wear under your clothes.” As I put it on, I realized it was made of polyester, but without much lycra or spandex to provide stretchiness. It was also a little small for me, and I could barely get the straps over my shoulders. It pushed my butt cheeks together, making me more aware of the probe in my ass.

“Good, that’s on. Now to make sure it stays on, let’s put this chain around your neck.” I didn’t realize what he meant by that until he laced the chain over and under the straps and padlocked it in the front. “Now, try to get out.” I pulled on the straps, but the chain kept either strap from reaching beyond my shoulder.

“Right, you’re not going to have access to anything below the waist for a while, at least until you get home. You might be able to pee, if you try really hard.” He was right: he legs of the singlet were so tight that even if I could reach my hand up, trying to get my caged dick out of the jockstrap and aimed at an angle where I could pee was not going to be easy.

I put on the rest of my clothes, hoping this would encourage him to get me back to the train station. He had mentioned something about “not until I get home,” and I figured that the sooner I got home, the sooner I could get out of this gear.

“Hand me your phone.” I did so, and watched him swipe and type and wait a bit for something to download. He pushed a few more buttons, and I felt the prostate massager come alive again. I shuddered, and he smiled at my reaction. “Good to know that works.” He typed on my phone a little longer. “Obviously that’s connected via Bluetooth. I’ve set up an account and shared the code on a message board. I’m going to leave it up to the kinksters who like this sort of thing to decide how much activity your ass should see, at least until the battery runs out. Oh, and I’m not going to share the password to the account I’ve set up for you, in case you were wondering.”

Finally I asked, “what about the keys?”

“Oh, right, nearly forgot.” He handed me the real-estate style lockbox he had used before. “Text me when you get home and I can give you the code.” I could handle this, I thought: only a few more hours, and I would be able to get out of this predicament. Probably.

We walked to the car, and I realized it was going to take a while to get used to moving with this plug wedged in my ass, as well as to the restriction the tight singlet caused to my torso and hips. Bending over and sitting were going to be challenges. We got in the car. Ted drove slowly, as it was starting to snow pretty heavily, and even though we weren’t going fast, I felt every bump in the road in my ass and my crotch. Luckily no one on the internet seemed to have picked up on the code that was posted. At least not yet.

We reached the station, and I had some time before my train left. I figured I would try to pee, but even when I got to a stall, the maneuvering and grabbing was futile. I couldn’t get my dick far enough past the leg of the singlet to pee cleanly. I got on the train and started counting the minutes until I got home. Then I felt something in my ass. I guess the word was out, and I took out my phone to see if I could do anything in the newly installed app. I couldn’t even log in — I had no idea what my username was. The vibration started to ratchet up, and while I thought I was doing a good job at masking my reaction, I wasn’t sure about the noise. Could anyone else hear that buzzing? I looked around to see if anyone was looking, but the noise of the train must have covered the sound.

Even though the noise was masked, I still could do nothing about the vibration. Soon I began to feel myself leaking through the cage. On the one hand I could keep myself from pissing, but there was nothing I could do about this. As the train ride continued, I shifted in my seat, trying to calculate if the stickiness was going to soak through my jock, through my singlet and be visible on my jeans. Public humiliation was not my thing, and luckily the train ride ended before anything truly awkward was visible.

I got home, walking the last few blocks in the snow. All I had to do was get home and text Ted for the code. I stripped down to the singlet, and with the lockbox in one hand and my phone in the other, I texted Ted. “Home. Code?”

I waited a few minutes. I felt the vibrations start up again in my ass. “Are you doing that?” I texted. I waited a little longer. He replied: “Not me. I don’t have any control over it.”

“Do you have the code to the box?” I was pretty sure it was Ted who was responsible for that part of my bondage.

“Let me look.”

I waited some more. Nothing really I could do, as I was still locked in this get-up.

After what felt like an eternity, he texted “Try 2304.” I turned the dials, and to my relief, they worked. There was a key in the box, which I used to unlock the chain around my neck. I peeled off the singlet and took out the vibrator. Such a good feeling to get that out.

I pulled down my jockstrap and took the key to the other padlock. But the key didn’t go in. It was completely the wrong size. I tried again from every angle, but this was clearly not the key to the lock on my chastity cage.

I texted again: “What about the lock to the cage?”

“What about it?”

“When do I get that?”

“Text me again tomorrow. It’s closer than you think.”

I knew that begging and pleading would get me nowhere, so I resigned myself to another night locked up. At least tonight I would have access to a real bed, clothes and enjoy the use of all of my limbs. I looked out the window at the snow storm, glad it was happening on a weekend. We were going to get a foot of accumulation at least.

In the morning, I texted again: “Made it through the night. Key?”

“It’s in another lockbox. Won’t even make you wait for the code: 7809.”

I was relieved. “Where’s the box?”

“Last time I was in NYC I noticed how there were a bunch of these lockboxes attached to the railings around tree pits. Probably for dog-walkers to get into people’s homes? I added one to a tree in front of 1500 Third Avenue.”

He then texted me a picture of a tree in front of that address, and at the bottom of the tree you could see the lockbox, small enough that you would only notice it if you were looking for it.

I wrote down the code and bundled up. The snow had stopped, but it was still bitterly cold. The address was about a mile away, and what should have been a short walk was more of an expedition, climbing over big piles of snow that the plows had pushed at each intersection. After much hiking, I finally made it to the address. However, the tree pit in question was now under three feet of snow and ice that a snowplow had dumped there. There was no way I could shovel through this, especially not without people noticing, and even then I wasn’t sure I would succeed.

I took a picture and sent it to Ted: “Box buried in snow.”

“Looks like you’ll get to have that ice-lock fantasy after all.”

I was determined to try again the next day. After all, the snow would need to be moved, and it would usually melt of its own accord. However, that night there was freezing rain, followed by another dip in the temperature. The next day I hiked to that spot again, and the pile of snow where the box was located was now coated in a thick layer of ice. This really was an ice-lock situation. When I got home, still frustrated in my cage, I checked the weather: “Freezing temps expected to last all week.”

 

To be continued …

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Metal would like to thank the author, nyc49, for this story! If you liked it, please leave a comment for the author.