Caged Men In The Job: CFNM

"Silly you. Aren't you curious WHY I enjoyed it so much?"

"Of course. I hope you'll tell me so I can satisfy you again in the future."

"I was thinking that you would have licked me even better if your penis had been locked up by the corporate device."

"But! Are you crazy?"

"No, look it's a very fashionable trend these years. I just checked on my PC while you were taking a shower, and the doctor who runs HR is right."

"But would you... would you give up your well-deserved penetration?"

"Richard, my love. You know that you give me the greatest orgasms with your mouth. It's not your fault, your penis is okay: more than average in size, in both length and girth.

It is just my vagina that does not respond adequately to any penetration.

You know very well that when I masturbate, I lean the Magic Wand on the outside... vaginal orgasm does not belong to me.

And perhaps vaginal climax is only a mirage for a percentage of women, ranging from 20 to 27 percent... I have enjoyed your penetrations and given birth to two magnificent children in perfect health, but you acknowledge without any doubt that my orgasms are clitoral.

Your tongue and mouth have given me so many orgasms, even when I was pregnant, you can trust that I will never forget that.

I'm not complaining -- we've both always been happy.

But maybe this is your... new... mandatory device... maybe it deserves a chance.

And maybe this Memorandum is not as bad as you thought.

And, as a final topic, I don't want you to be transferred to Antarctica."

Neither of them spoke again that night. We hugged and cuddled for a long time before she fell asleep, tired from her orgasm and the week of hard work (her swollen paycheck did not come for no reason).

I lay awake for a long time, constantly thinking of her words.

Fair enough: it seemed legit.

###

I got out of bed and went to the kitchen to cook dinner. This is not a female chores: in every Army and every Navy, the cook is a man - since the time of Long John Silver.

Often, during the week, my wife would cook: her family is of Italian descent and they have a very important recipe tradition.

My mom was Irish and although she didn't cook many things, she taught me a couple of tricks. In this way, when my wife is tired, I cook.

We never eat packaged meals or junk food. Maybe that is why we are not as fat as many other people our age.

And that evening, I was trying to distract myself from my thoughts.

I didn't cook anything special: an old-fashioned potato omelet, and a salad. Anyone can chop tomatoes and lettuce, add almonds, seeds, fennel, oil, and vinegar (never industrial dressing).

After dinner, in the late evening, we both did a lot of research. Alone at first, but then together.

We immediately ruled out explicitly pornographic sites, almost all of which focused either on gay men or on bitchy women who wanted to cuckold and humiliate their husbands out of sheer sadism.

My wife Cathy is a good and kind person. She could "roleplay" some Dominatrix-themed roleplaying...but that would be artificial. Sadism is something innate: it's either there or it's not. Sure, it can evolve with experience and readings, but you still have to "feel the Calling," and Cathy couldn't play the sadist for more than a few minutes without getting bored (usually).

The sites were very numerous.

Sadly, more than half of the topic was monopolized by gays (with a submissive offering his captivity to his Dominant, or a Dominant forcing the submissive to demonstrate his hierarchical inferiority in the couple), and almost 90 percent of the remaining sites were devoted to Hotwife, Stag, and Bull.

And an exaggerated focus on sissification: husbands with square jaws and hairy shoulders, forced to wear light pink bras and see-through baby dolls.

Perhaps cross-dressing may seem believable if the male has ephebic or androgynous features, but if a man has a mustache like Freddie or a skull like Arnold, lingerie does not suit him. Just IMHO, of course.

But some sites gave us hope. They were rare, but they talked about normal heterosexual couples practicing this male chastity either as a temporary game or as a 24/7 lifestyle, or better said: 24/7/365!

I was scared but also interested.

There were cages of all kinds. Some looked like medieval armor: plate armor, chain mail. Others looked like cages for canaries, like Tweety and Sylvester from Looney Toons.

My wife pointed out that I was without a doubt a Grower.

She said, "I have never doubted the overall length of your erect penis, my love, but there is no question that when it is flaccid it becomes very short indeed. Look at it now!"

Partly because of the recent shower, partly because I had just cum, the penis seemed very short indeed.

"Let's measure it now," my wife said. "I wouldn't want the director and her assistant to have to punish you because you exaggerated the size."

"But what if I then get too tight?"

"I don't think that's possible. This site rules it out. Boh! We'll see."

I continued to be doubtful, so my wife said, "Let's give it a try. Let's buy a silicone copy of the size you say, and then look. If it fits tight, then that means you were right. If, on the other hand, it leaves a lot of room, it means we have to choose a shorter model."

An online sales site offered silicone models that cost very little and repeated the size of the metal ones. I agreed and we purchased a model that would arrive the next morning.

###

On Saturday morning (it was April 6) the chastity cage arrived.

We had seen some tutorials on how to get the testicles and penis into the larger ring, and I helped Cathy with resigned enthusiasm.

My wife smiled with satisfaction as she pointed out to me that the silicone cage could fit a whole phalanx of her finger in the space between my penis and the tip of the device.

"See, this model is too long. Fortunately, the girth seems to me..."

"The diameter is perfect," I murmured.

"But doesn't it hurt at the sides? The flesh comes out of the gaps as if it were captive..."

"I'm fine. The girth is right. The length, on the other hand, is too much. You were right, love."

"As always! No, just kidding. In financial things, you are always right. But let me say, I have held your cock in my mouth hundreds of times, both erect and flaccid, and my eyes see it up close while you always see it from a distance."

"I trust your judgment completely. But trust me about the diameter: it feels right. The length, on the other hand, is excessive."

"All right. Then let's order that shorter device but with the same diameter, which we had saved in the "Shopping Cart" last night."

###

My wife had gotten horny as hell seeing me with that cage squeezing my penis. Immediately after clicking to finalize the order, she jumped on me and kissed me hard.

"But, love...you have to take the cage off me first..."

"Oh, Richard, please! Lick my pussy now! I'm so horny, and knowing that you can't cum gives me a feeling of absolute Power! I know it's just a game... at least for today... but eat me, I'm begging you!"

###

Usually, my wife settles for just an orgasm. That day, she demanded of me that I eat her at least four times. And even though it was just a game, she kept me locked up until midnight!

Then she allowed me to cum.

Cathy took the cage off me and said, "Do whatever you want, you're free."

After I cum, she whispered, "Tonight I'll let you sleep without a cage, honey. Don't get used to it... I think it will be your last free night, from tomorrow I want you locked, to make a good impression with HR."

.

Chapter 3. A husband accompanied by his wife at the Human Resources (HR) First Inspection.

.

On Monday morning, at 9 am, my wife accompanied me to my appointment with Dr. Jensdottir from HR.

I knocked on the door.

Barbara, my coworker, came to open it.

"Oh, Mrs. Cathy, boss Richard's wife! What a pleasure to see you again! We met at the company dinner on New Year's Eve, I'm Barbara, one of your Husband's assistants!"

"Of course, Barbara, I remember..." stammered my wife, completely oblivious.

"Oh, Mrs. Cathy! You don't remember me, that's clear. I'm the lesbian girl! The one whose breasts were removed by surgeons! Maybe you remember that we talked about the fact that according to statistics, many wives earn more than their husbands: 29% in 2023, if I'm not mistaken... not that I care, because Teresa and I earn the same amount here at the company."

"Oh, sure! Well, yes, I earn more than my husband, but it's only because my father paid for my studies (and then he, too, as an engaged man, saved money to allow me to study). But I don't pay much attention to that, and then, I rely completely on him for economic and financial choices, because he is more experienced. Barbara. Oh, yes, of course, I remember that interview. Maybe on New Year's Eve, you had your hair dyed green and very intense make-up? You look better now, a natural blonde, if I may say so, my dear child." (My wife is slightly younger than me, but she earns more than I do. She might be old enough to be Barbara's mother).

"Yeah. The green hair was just a joke for the winter vacations... and it wasn't just over the head, curtains matched the drapes, if you know what I mean, ha, ha! My wife had asked for it as a "Winter Holidays" themed gift... now instead I've shaved it all off, my mons is smooth as a billiard ball, and I have to admit that the sensitivity increases a lot, especially with the magic wand" My wife nodded sharing a knowing look. "But enough talk about me. Did you come for the Male Dress Code?"

"Yes," said I, "and I didn't know you had been transferred to HR! No one notified me, but I'm still in charge of the office, or am I wrong?"

"Oh, boss! You don't have to worry! I was the only one with the right resume... and anyway, Dr. BJ assured me that apart from the first week (handling protests and booking cages) it would be a limited commitment, at most half an hour a day, no more..."

I sighed. "Okay, okay Barbara, as long as you come back to our office as soon as possible... Andy will be lost without your guidance."

My wife looked at me. "I thought Andrew was guided by you, dear, for so many years!"

"Yes, well, I didn't make myself clear. I am the team leader, and Andy is a very good worker but Barbara is a very good guide. And both of them are more effective if they are together. Not in the sexual sense, because Andy is married to his wife and Barbara is... married to her wife, of course, you already know it. But they are in work symbiosis, they are "husband and wife" in the office, I don't know how to say. Work wife and work spouse. For helping, caring, keeping an eye on, and being always there. But it's just a figure of speech, they never kissed or anything. "

"I understand."

" Since Teresa (Barbara's wife) also arrived, Andrew was in danger of losing his mind, and his job. Barbara continued to be like a working wife to him, and Teresa was understanding enough to accept this situation. For us, she is a support that Andrew really needs."

Barbara indicò il seno asportato. "Quando ero appena uscita dalla clinica, Andrew mi è stato accanto come un padre o un fratello. E per me è stato importante sapere di poter contare sempre sul mio "work spouse". Il boss si occupava di tutti noi, invece Andrew si occupava solo di me, e io mi sentivo sicura e protetta. Ho ricambiato la profonda amicizia. Non l'ho friendzonato... io sono lesbica e lui è felicemente sposato. Ma questa nostra "amicizia speciale" ci ha aiutati nella carriera aziendale con benefici reciproci".

"Okay."

My wife recalled the main issue of today to my former co-worker, now in charge of mandatory chastity cages.

"Are you comfortable in this new role, Barbara?"

"It was awkward at first. I am a college graduate, but I am just over 25 years old.

Some of our managers are old enough to be my father. Old Donald Macdonald, who must be at least 70, came to us, and he asked if I could measure him.

Dr. Jensdottir thought he was trying to be funny, but instead, he explained that with glasses he can't see well anymore--I measured him myself.

Then came Dr. Pasteur, who had been my first Boss the year I was hired...he is really like a father to me, he taught me everything!

He was so embarrassed, with his penis inside the cage...he confided in us that his wife has kept him under lock and key since they were married. But Dr. BJ retorted that the company had already set aside a budget to acquire a new cage for each...if he wanted, he could go ahead for an upgrade. He was pleased, although he was very embarrassed, and whispered under his breath that his wife would like a spiked cage..."

"A what?"

"A device made specifically for screwing in spikes, which bite into the flesh of the penis when it tries to get hard...not good for beginners, but since Dr. Pasteur has been inside the lifestyle for so many years, then it might work for him...his wife seemed ecstatic about the idea."

Barbara told us that once, an executive had protested against Dr. Jensdottir. He claimed that it was an affront and that it had never happened before. And that the co-workers (male and female) would no longer recognize him as Boss: leadership would be irreparably harmed after everyone saw that he had his penis confined in a metal prison.

At that thought, I also had a shiver of fear. What would happen if my co-workers (male and female) lost all respect for me? I imagined myself naked, wearing only stockings and high heels, handcuffed in the women's restroom, forced to tell everyone "Sorry everyone, I'm not your boss anymore... from now on I'm this company's meat toilet," as in a famous illustration by the artist Sora Draws... And the girls would urinate inside my mouth, mocking me... Was this a nightmare, or perhaps a dream for someone? Not for me...

Barbara's voice roused me from daydreaming. But I could not help noticing that her eyes were staring at the erect tent in the fabric of my pants (which I was wearing Commando, following a suggestion from my wife).

But, Barbara went on to tell, BJ did not flinch. She replied that when a leader is admired by all, he continues to be a leader, even if he is maimed or temporarily maimed.

Once Beckenbauer, the captain of the German soccer team (the famous "Die Mannschaft") had gone on to play the finals, even though he had an arm in his neck.

Roosevelt led the army during World War II while in a wheelchair, and perhaps that predicament was more serious and cumbersome than a small cage.

And the Viking hero, the aristocratic Ivar Ragnarsson nicknamed the Boneless, was obeyed by his berserkers even though he could not walk. These examples show that a true leader continues to be an example to his associates, with or without a penis.

The executive was dumbfounded: he was probably still thinking of soccer's Beckenbauer.

BJ overwhelmed him with words, saying that when there had been a pandemic, everyone had worn masks, and no union had protested. Today she was proposing something very similar to masks, with the only difference being that women were mandated to wear a chastity cage.

Then the executive, enraged, slammed his fists on the desk, "There's a big difference between wearing a little cotton mask on your face, and wearing a metal chastity device on your penis!"

BJ chuckled sarcastically, "Of course: covered by tissue, a man can still harass a woman, while with metal bars it's impossible."

Barbara paused to gaze at my wife straight in the eye. "I know very well that there are many women who molest males. Males are also victims. Students are harassed by female teachers, and recruits are harassed by bossy women older than them. Not to mention seductresses and gold diggers, who in a sense do circumvention by using their own most charming endowments (and sometimes emphasizing with make-up and plastic surgery."

My wife nodded without saying anything.

Barbara gestured with her hand as if to chase away a bad thought. "I am a lesbian and live with my wife. I know very well that 72% of lesbian marriages end in divorce: and I am aware that in 75-80% of those cases, the reason is Domestic Violence. Yes, I know that women harass and beat. I don't, my strong wife doesn't, but many women do it, every day, in every season. I know."

For the first time in my life, I saw a tear on Barbara's eyelashes. Perhaps she had been beaten by an ex-partner? But my wife was also crying tears, and she had never been beaten by anyone.

"Barbara, it will be all right," my wife consoled her in a broken voice. "There is so much hatred in the world, so much envy and jealousy, but you will win against everything. You won against cancer, you can win against Domestic Violence too."

My wife took a step toward Barbara. Barbara stood up, without fear, without any defense. My wife hugged her tightly, the same way she always hugged our children. "You are a good child, Barbara. I know your Boss, and he always says you are a work of integrity and a wonderful person in every way. We are lucky to have met you, and so honored to be able to witness your courage."

I remembered the first time Barbara told me about the operation of the removed breast because a breast cancer. The surgeons had told her that it was too late for any other option and that they had to remove a breast. She had rejected any suggestion of implants. "I don't want to lie to people looking at me. I am a cancer survivor and I want everyone to know that. It's like a war wound. My war against the disease."

The only idea she had accepted was a tattoo on her chest. It was not to "hide" the white scar but to highlight it. The scar marked a straight white line from the center toward the armpit. Below, you could see the blue sea; above, two seagulls flew together toward the Sun, free. After the Sapphic marriage, she had two letters added next to the free birds: "B" and "T," Barbara and Teresa.

My wife had heard from me all the phases of Barbara's medical affair. And she remembered everything about that strong and brave girl. Now she was comforting her as a mother would comfort a daughter.

Heartened by the hug and those words full of respect, Barbara recovered. She dried her eyes and sat back down at her desk.

Barbara opened a register. "Have you two gathered your measurements yet?" she asked in a neutral voice like a baker asks how much bread you want to buy.

"Yes, of course," chirped my wife cheerfully, listing the diameter and total length.

Barbara emitted a whistle of admiration. "Wow, Mr. Richard, how brave! This is the shortest cage we have booked so far! I had no idea..."

I blushed, but my wife defended me. "Dear girl, my husband has a normal penis. He impregnated me twice, and he always satisfied me. And I know penises, plural: trust me, it's not the only penis I've held in my mouth. But precisely because it's normal, it's the Grower type: which is statistically the most common. Barbara, if you want to make a bet with me, I'll bet that half the males who have had you book a very long cage so far will have to replace it with a shorter one. Will you bet?"

"Damn! And how do you explain such a statistical error?"

"Pride, exhibitionism, but also the trivial measurement starting from the wrong spot, or when the penis is not flaccid."

"And how did you do that?"

"I insisted that he purchase a silicone device to give it a try."

"Gee, but that's a great idea! I have to tell Dr. BJ right away! We'll buy a set of silicone cages first, as a test, and then have the blacksmith make the custom metal ones!"

So it was, that my wife lost that she could cash in on an easy bet.

And so it was, that all the men in the company wore a much shorter cage than they had planned. And poor Andrew, who had a penis that changed a great deal from flaccid to erect, found himself assigned a flat cage. Flat as a pound coin.