A Bully Caged Pt. 03

I deeply appreciate the feedback and response to this story so far. I'll take a brief hiatus after this installment to work on more projects to increase my readership, but I will continue! Please let me know what you'd like to see next, in this story or another.

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Wes stayed in our guest bedroom last night, freshly showered. He thanked Ms. Simmons for dinner, he thanked me for my cum, and he went to bed almost immediately without another word. I was confused, and it was another hard night of sleep. My mind moved in waves, and every time one would subside, another would rise, bringing new anxieties, frustrations, and questions with it. What was going through Wes' mind? Did I go too far? Would this last? Was it already over? I have no clue when exhaustion won, but I'm thankful it did.

When I wake up, I'm tired. I reach over to my nightstand to turn off my phone's alarm, and my hand finds an unfamiliar chain. It rattles when I pick it up. I turn off the alarm and turn on my flashlight, casting a big, fat shadow of a chain against my bedroom door. My eyes adjust, and I see it's a black metal. On one end, there's a small open padlock with a simple "D" engraved on it, and the other end hangs loose from my hand. It's not a long piece, and suddenly, I realize that it's the collar Ms. Simmons had mentioned last night for Wes. This is supposed to be around his neck, and I am supposed to put it there. 

Fuck, my nerves are back. I've played with his ass and came all over him, but he's still Wes. Yesterday I was horny and bold, but what if I can't be those things today? What if I slip back into passivity, and he decides to give it all up? All he would need is a set of bolt cutters and steady hands, and his chastity cage would be history. And I don't know if I would blame him.

I notice there's a text from Ms. Simmons on my phone.

*Gm, honey! I hope you enjoyed last night. Wes asked me to drive him to school, and I didn't see his collar on him. It's up to you, but I'd strike when the iron is hot! The longer you wait, the more likely he is to forget how much he loved yesterday. The key included also opens his chastity cage. ;) Might be a good idea to let his sexual energy loose soon, since he's new to the whole idea. Have a good day! I'll be home after yoga class. His safe word is balloon btw.*

Awesome. There's nothing like a deadline to alleviate anxiety, right? I pocket the collar, get ready for school, and head out. We're close enough to walk, and I do like seeing the spring dew on my way to class. It helps calm me down a bit, but not much. I can't stop and. I'm glad I don't have to walk with Wes. I still need to figure out what to say, even if I am a little miffed that he left for school without me.

It's not long before I've made it into the school and am already scanning the halls for Wes. He's generally joined by a friend or two, usually other soccer players. I don't see him at all before classes start. 

My first two classes of the day pass by uneventfully, and it's apparent that even the teachers are phoning in the last week. It's not until passing time after AP World History that I spot Wes. As I expected, he's talking to a friend, Chris. Chris is a few inches taller than me, but he's skinnier. He has glasses and curly black hair. A goalie. I lock eyes with Wes as I'm walking. I decide to be bolder than usual. I walk past him in the hall and just say "good morning, Wes."

Chris immediately turn to him, expecting the blond asshole to say something, to do something, but he just mutters "good morning." Chris laughs and starts to ask what's going on, but I'm out of earshot by that point.

That's all the confirmation I need that he's still in.

I try to lay off for most of the day. Part of it is that I need him to process what's happened, but it's also for me. I can't just do an about face in twenty-four hours on someone, even if they do look like him. I even take a page from Ms. Simmons' book, and I meditate in a band practice room. It's not incredibly effective, considering that they're playing twenty different trumpet solos the next door over. 

But it does get me thinking. Wes has a safe word, "Balloon." That means he has an out if he wants one. A "get-out-of-dick-jail-free" card if you will. He doesn't need bolt cutters or anything of the kind, and as long as he doesn't say that word, I'm okay. I can still push him farther. He may not admit it to me or to himself out loud, but he wants this. I take solace in that.

I'm sitting in my Chemistry class during sixth hour when I see Wes walk by through the door window. He's headed toward the bathrooms, so I raise my hand and excuse myself for a little one-on-one conference. He's farther down the hall, and I try to walk quietly to avoid his attention. He turns into the restroom, and I follow. He's just closing a stall. Before he can get it latched, I push into the enclosed space, causing him to gasp and sit down on the toilet behind him. He looks at me and then all around with panic in his eyes, as if he'll be able to see through the stall walls.

"David, what are you doing?"

I try to sound confident. "Give me your phone." As I say this, I pull down my jeans, letting my half-soft cock flop out.

Wes' eyes glaze over as I do, and suddenly he's entranced. He absentmindedly reaches for his pocket and hands me his phone. "Please just wait until the end of the day..."

"Password," I say, grabbing his head and pushing his face into my soft dick. He tries to hide it, but he takes a deep breath, pulling in my scent. He's savoring me. His skin is smooth and soft against my shaft.

"We--we can't do this," Wes says into my pubes as he starts to swallow nervously. His mouth is watering. A drop of my precum trails on his cheek.

What he doesn't know is that I'm nervous too. I have a scholarship to think about. However, this isn't wholly uncalculated. Both my class and Wes' only allow one person in the hall at a time, and the other teacher in this hallway is on prep. Unless a janitor comes in, it's unlikely we'll be interrupted. I don't think Wes has figured this out, so watching him uncomfortably shift is worth the modest risk.

I stroke his cheek with my free hand before pushing my thumb into his mouth. "If you ever want this smell again, tell me your password."

He struggles to speak with my thumb between his lips. I pull it out and smear the spit through his hair.

"It's... 1-3-7-9."

His screen is open now. I pull up his camera and snap a quick picture of him gazing up at me with my cock covering one of his big blue eyes, and I set it as his home screen background. I pull up his texts and send it to myself, naming myself "Sir" in his contacts. "Don't change your home screen," I tell him.

He nods.

"I want a 'yes, sir.'"

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy. Now give me your underwear."

Wes looks up at me, suddenly sober. "My underwear?"

"Hurry up, straight boy, I have class."

He sobers for a moment. "I am straight, you asshole, I just--"

I slap his cheek with my cock a few times. "You just get so hard sucking dick for no reason?"

He pushes his legs together.

"Stand up and turn around," I say.

He does. His jeans do a poor job at hiding his ass, and I look at it before reaching my arms around him. I undo the front button on his pants He's quivering again, even more nervous now. I let my flat hand run down his abs, past his close-cropped pubes, and it lands on the warm metal of his cage. It's tight and sticky with precum. It feels dainty in my hand.

"Say you're straight again," I say, pulling him close to me. My cock is resting on his lower back, and I'm sure, even through his shirt, he can feel the heat.

"I'm straight..." he whispers. His breath trails off as I massage his balls.

"Then give me your underwear, straight boy. I want you commando for school today."

"But... I have to help with graduation setup later." I forgot that Wes was helping out student council. Apparently he's trying to improve his image even more before he heads to college.

"I didn't ask," I breathe into his ear.

He nods. After a moment of hesitation, he slips his shoes off, then he shimmies out of his skinny jeans, leaving just his boxer briefs. They're red. I grab the waistband of them and practically tear them when I pull them down and off his legs. He jumps when I do. His legs and ass are smooth and pale.

An idea occurs to me, and I smile to myself. "I'll bring you some underwear later," I say before spanking him. He yelps. I cover his mouth and spank him again.

He whimpers quietly this time, and, in the spur of the moment, I pull him close and kiss his neck, feeling his skin on my lips for the first time. I can feel his goosebumps, and I can feel my now-hard dick resting on his ass. 

Fuck, I have to get out of here before I do something really stupid. I'll breed his asshole soon, but we need to have lube and we need to get back to class.

I pull up my pants, exit the stall without another word, and leave the bathroom to return to class. I've been gone longer than usual, but my teacher doesn't even blink when I get back. I see Wes walk past our door again only a couple minutes later.

The rest of the class passes by uneventfully. It's hard to focus on what we're supposed to be learning, and even though our course is winding down for the year, my mind feels extra foggy. Wes has taken up permanent residence in my thoughts. I just wish I could control myself better around him. I just get wrapped up in wanting to touch, grab, and violate him, and I start taking unnecessary risks. I'm supposed to be the level-headed one, but I can't stop playing with him like he's a toy. God, now I'm horny again. I should have at least came so I could think straight.

After class, I immediately head out on foot across the parking lot. I have a promise to keep. Luckily, our school is only a quarter mile from a clothing store. They primarily sell fast fashion shirts and jeans, but they have a small selection of underwear as well. It's mostly cheap, lacy lingerie, which makes it perfect for my purposes. I grab a size large black thong and checking out, and the cashier smiles at me. He's sporting some major muscle, and he has tattoos scattered up and down his arms. "That for your girl, or do you want to try the dressing room?"

I think for only a second before responding. "Actually, it's for my boyfriend."

The cashier looks frazzled for a second. He's probably used to joking and flirting with customers for flattery points, but I don't think he expected my response. "Well--I hope he likes them," he says as he bags them up. I think I see him blush. 

"Me too." I take my new purchase and head out the door. I'll have to remember that shop. I might have the opportunity to embarrass Wes more one day by taking him there. I called him by boyfriend. The words tasted gross in my mouth. Not only do I still dislike Wes as a person, the statement itself doesn't seem anywhere close to true. I guess it's better than saying it's for my ex-bully who I'm currently torturing sexually.

There should be about an hour between the end of school and the soccer game tonight, so I pull out my phone and open my texts. I see the photo I had sent from Wes' phone. I stop to appreciate it. His mouth is slightly open, and his eyes are just starting to close. His lips are pink and full, and they're just brushing against my balls. I still haven't saved his number, so I add save that photo for his contact, and I type "Wes" before deciding to change it to "Straight Boy." If Wes gets off on being humiliated, then I'm going to work my hardest to make him regret that.

I text him.

*Meet me by the dumpsters if you want your underwear.*

I make my way around our school. Now that it's thirty minutes after dismissal, the majority of cars have disappeared. Most after-school groups and extracurriculars have disbanded for the year, and the only people still around the building are the ones who are getting it ready for graduation. The final few weeks, when the seniors are gone, there might be some extra meetings for others, but right now everyone's just waiting for us to leave. An empty nostalgia rises in me. I've spent four years here and I don't have any friends or connections beyond the teachers and staff. Part of it has been that I've been isolated by Wes and others, but after a while I just started to push away myself, focusing on academics and college as a way to disengage from everything between and before. My moms were always were there for me, but now that they're gone... this place serves as a testament to my loneliness. I sigh and try to change the focus of my mind. If I want to move forward, I can't focus on the past, or even on the future. I have to be here. That's what Ms. Simmons says, at least. I take a deep breath, and I watch a bee wind and loop through the air. I take the collar from my pocket, remove the key, and put Wes' new "necklace" in the bag with the new thong.

When I reach the dumpsters, Wes is already there, pacing nearby. When he spots me, he looks around as if he's being tailed. It's cute. I walk past him, to the space behind the large green trash bins, right next to the school's red brick wall. He follows, saying "hey... hey, Wes. Can I have my underwear back?" 

"I can give you your underwear, yeah," I say. I turn to face him. He's keeping his distance, but this is the first time I'm taking a look at him going commando in his jeans. I have to hold back a laugh. The fabric around his crotch has formed to his cage better than I could have hoped. It wouldn't be obvious unless someone was looking for it, but once they noticed, it would be clear he was in chastity. Perfect. I hold out the bag. He looks confused, but he takes it.

He looks in, rifling through the tissue paper before his eyes widen. He looks up at me.

"Take off what you're wearing," I say. 

Wes looks like he wants to protest, but he's learning. He nods. That's good enough for now.

"Do it now, and then I'll inspect you again," I say.

Wes turns pale and looks around again. "Here?" The smell of trash is strong, and I'm sure he wants to leave, maybe going somewhere more private and dignified.

"Here." Although I'm trying to control my emotions, I still want to humiliate the boy who ruined school for me. What friends could have I had? Relationships? Love? I'll admit, I'm pinning a lot of blame on him, but it's all I have right now.

Wes steps even closer to the dumpster to hide from prying eyes, and he starts to take his clothing off again. I like that I'm getting used to the sight. By the time he's naked from the waist down, I've pulled out my key. "Hold on," I say. He stops. He sees the key, and he realizes the possibilities. He's still anxious though, and rightfully so. He's vulnerable, and if anyone were to walk around the school's corner, they'd see him. I walk up to him, and I pull the collar and thong from the bag before reaching above his head to wrap the chain around his neck. It's tight, and when he swallows nervously, it bounces. I can see the hairs standing on his neck as I click the small padlock shut.

"Turn," I say.

He does, and his back is now to the dumpster. I push him against it, and he yelps as his unprotected asscheeks are burned by the hot, putrid metal.

I pull his cage from his body, and deftly use the key to unlock it. Almost immediately, his small cock starts to grow, pushing the cage an inch out. I pull it off and put it in my pocket. His dick, at full length, is three inches. Now I do laugh. "You're even smaller than I thought. This is the little thing that's been bothering you so much?"

Wes starts to speak, but I put my hand over his mouth, shushing him. I don't want to hear him speak. I reach down with my other hand, thong in my palm, and I start to rub the fabric up and down his cock. The lace catches and rolls on his shaft as I stroke it, feeling how small it is under my fingers. My fist fits completely around it, and I tighten my grip. His eyes flutter, and after only about thirty seconds, he starts bucking his hips and moaning into my hand, which I move from his mouth to his ass. I pull him to me, shoving my tongue in his mouth. I push his plug in as he sinks back onto my imploring fingers. Wes becomes my first kiss. He starts to suck on my lower lip and buck even faster, and I decide now is my chance. I pull my face away and look into his begging eyes. He's forgotten where we are, who he is, and what he's said before. I am his whole world right now, and everything from public humiliation to being made to cum next to a dumpster is just contributing to his arousal, his submissiveness. He's becoming lust.

"Do you want to cum?" I ask, knowing the answer.

He nods and slurs his words. "yes, sir. Please..."

"If you cum for me," I say, "you're mine. Nod if you understand."

He pauses, and I slow down. He looks desperate then, and his eyes plead for me to continue. Finally, he nods.

"Good boy," I say, speeding up my movement and pushing his plug even deeper. He gasps. "Cum for me, faggot."

Wes' chest and face flush as he starts to meet my rhythm, alternately grinding his prostate on his plug and pushing into the panties.

"Yes... yes, sir... yes, sir..." he says. Right as the words leave his lips, I feel his cock swell and start to bounce, and the steady dribble of precum becomes a full fledged orgasm shooting into my hand, drenching the thong in his own load. It drips from my fingers, and Wes' knees buckle. I catch him, and I put the semen-soaked underwear into his hand so I can support him with both of my arms. He looks up at me, eyes hazy. Before he regains full control over his body, I pull the cage from my pocket again, and, with a little fighting against his still-rigid member, I lock him away again. He winces with the force. He groans, and goes to cover up. His mind is clearing. Mine isn't. I try not to give away how turned on I am, but I'm sure my own boxer briefs have a healthy pool of precum.

"Put the thong on," I say, wiping my hand on his stomach. It heaves below my touch as Wes tries to catch his breath. 

He holds up the soggy panties, and a big gob of his cum falls off, slapping on the concrete. He swallows, and steps one foot, then the other, into the underwear. It leaves a trail as he pulls it up his legs, and as he hurriedly puts his jeans on after, a soft squishing sound meets both our ears when he shifts and moves around. It doesn't do much to hide his cage. He's the most red I've ever seen him as a modest cum stain turns his jeans an even darker blue. "I just... I just really really needed to cum," he says. "I'm not... I'm still not..."

I know he's trying to say that he's not gay, and that this is all just because of pent up sexual frustration, but I just laugh. "Straight as an arrow," I say.

Wes looks frustrated. "I am..." he says, "I am straight. I just..."

"You just love to cum into a man's hand as he plays with your smooth ass," I say. "Whatever. I'll see you at my place. And since you're mine now, I want you to sleep in my room tonight." I turn and leave before waiting for a response. It's not until I'm halfway home that I look at the key in my hand. My heart's beating fast, and I have a flutter in my stomach. I feel... giddy? I'm not sure. I'm not sure about a lot, in fact. He's locked, and he lets me do all these things... but what is he thinking? How far is he willing to go?

I decide to start helping with his anal training tomorrow. I pull out my phone and text Ms. Simmons.

*Collars on him. Coming home for dinner! I want to join in on Wes' training tomorrow.*

My mood has raised, although the whole situation still has me wary. I receive a text back.

*Yay! Chickpea tacos tn. I have a friend who wants to help out too tomorrow. :)*