Cody's On-Call Ch. 02

I wasn't prepared for any of this. Cody has never used me like this in any of our encounters. I've never done chores for him, beyond fetching him a beer. I've never been alone in his apartment, and I've never had the least interest in piss. But here I am, standing on Cody's patio after all that, scrambling to put my clothes back on as quickly as possible, contemplating all that happened and what it means. While I'm alone in the dark, I use my fingers to scrape as much of his cum off of my face and out of my hair as I can, then suck my fingers clean. This is all of him I'm getting tonight. At least the salty, slightly bitter flavor helps partially cover up the taste of his urine. As I pull my shorts on and zip them up, I am keenly aware of the uncomfortable plastic cage locked on my genitals. How long will this last?

The drive home is hell. I've developed a routine since I've been serving Cody. Since he forbids me to touch my dick while I'm with him, I leave his place so horny I can barely drive. As soon as I get home, I jack off furiously, reliving my time with him while the scent and taste of his body still lingers on me. Usually, I cum three or four times in a row as a result.

Now, that isn't possible. I spend the rest of the night with the smell of Cody all over me, the combined taste of his cum and piss still lingering in my mouth. It's foul, but it's all I have, and I begin to cherish the mixed flavor, viewing it almost as a new gift he's given me.

********************

I can't sleep. I'm too horny, with a frustrated erection that I can't even touch, one which refuses to go away. Cody is all I can think about. When I finally drift off to sleep, I dream of his face, that wicked grin as he stared into my eyes, his cock brushing my lips as he degraded me in a way no man has before.

The next few days are torture. Rather than calming down, my sexual needs go into overdrive. I can barely function at work; home is even worse, since I have nothing to do but sit and think of Cody. I try to distract myself, but the weight and bulk of the cage is a constant reminder of him; the subtle yet distinct clinking of the metal lock against the plastic when I move in certain ways seems to mock me, reminding me of what he has done to me, how low my obsession for him has taken me. I get so desperate I consider cutting off the lock, but quickly discard the idea. That would surely mean an end to my chances to serve Cody again. No - he put this on me, so it must stay on, I decide, no matter how much I hate it, no matter how much it makes me suffer. The worst part, of course, is that I have no idea how long it will be before I hear from Cody again. It could be days; it could be weeks. What if he makes me wait months again, locked up like this? I will surely go mad, both from frustration and the separation from him. I make up my mind and steel my resolve - if this is what Cody wants, I'll suffer it gladly, I decide. Consider it another way of worshiping him and showing him my devotion, of being connected to him on a constant basis.

I last five days.

Five long days. Five endless, mostly sleepless nights. Every time my dick starts to swell, it presses against the cage, and I wake up in torment. My brain can't focus on anything except thoughts of sex. I'm hornier than I've ever been in my life. Finally, I break, and I do the forbidden, the thing I have sworn to myself I will not do, not matter how bad it gets.

I text Cody. And I beg and plead like I haven't ever before, not even when he ignored me for months. I am at a breaking point. I am practically crying as I type, that's how desperate I am. If only he will remove the cage, I'll do anything he wants. Anything. Or, lacking that, if he will just use me, give me a focus for all this pent-up sexual energy.

The messages I send him are increasingly desperate, increasingly humiliating and pathetic. I'm ashamed of myself, but can't stop. I watch as each message is delivered, as each one is confirmed read.

I get no response.

Perhaps he doesn't care. Or, perhaps Cody is enjoying my desperate begging and groveling. I have no way of knowing.

Early in the wee hours of the 13th day, I am lying in bed, trying to sleep. I hover somewhere in that twilight area between awake and asleep; my mind is a mishmash of sexual thoughts, feelings, and images playing on a constant loop, as if I were stuck in a fever dream, when the text finally comes in.

"Now," the message reads.

I don't even think. I can't think. The word "Now" keeps echoing in my brain like the refrain of a song that won't stop. I throw on my clothes and rush out the door. Desperation makes me hurry, as thrilled for an end to this torment as I am for the chance to experience Cody's cock.

The trip to his apartment is a blur. I can barely catch my breath before I'm on my knees as required. At least it's late; at least it's dark. I'm less concerned about the neighbors seeing me this late, kneeling here in the dark. Cody's apartment is dark, too. I don't know if he is home or not. I say a prayer he hasn't fallen asleep, in which case I might be kneeling here all night, or until I give up. No, I realize, I'd be here all night, which is both very honest and desperately pathetic.

The living room lights come on inside. Cody has the blinds open on the sliding glass door, so I can see inside clearly. He's naked. Naked and beautiful. His cock is about half hard, bobbing in front of him as he walks around, his big balls swinging low in their sac. I watch him as he walks around the living room, fascinated by the leonine gracefulness of his walk, the power and impressive size of his exposed genitals. I watch as he moves to the couch, carrying something. He sets it down on the couch, then sits beside it. I watch as he unfolds a towel and lays it on the floor at his feet. Surely, this is a sign he's almost ready for me, about to let me in to grovel at his feet where I most long to be. He clicks on the TV, and then reaches beside him for the object he was carrying.

It's a bottle of lube. He pours some on his cock, then begins to stroke himself. He's apparently got porn playing on the TV, because he is focused intently on it as he strokes his cock slowly, the movement of his hand as it slides from the swollen head of his dick all the way to the base and back up, causing his balls to swing in rhythm with his stroking.

I feel something wet on my chest, and realize I am drooling on myself. I become aware my tongue is hanging out, my natural response to seeing Cody's cock. I am overwhelmed with longing and desire; to be this close, and unable to touch it, is agony even worse than the last time. At least then, I could smell it, almost touch it with my tongue. But this is worse than porn: my heart's desire is so close, on the other side of the glass, yet completely untouchable, forbidden, denied. My dick is throbbing so much I won't be surprised if the chastity cage actually explodes into pieces. I look down at my crotch - the entire cage is moving as my dick throbs in time with my heartbeat. A small pool of precum is visible on the concrete, glistening in the moonlight, a silvery thread from my imprisoned dick to the ground.

Looking back at Cody, I can't believe this is happening. This is so cruel, beyond the kind of thing I expected, even from him. I want nothing more than to crawl through that door and be at his feet, to worship that perfect pole of flesh he's slowly stroking, but I don't dare. I don't even dare move out of this position, in case he sees it and decides to put an end to even letting me watch. Involuntarily, it happens again - I start whining like a dog not allowed its treat, a desperate, pathetic, anguished sound I'm embarrassed to be making, but unable to stop.

I hold out hope for a little longer; hope that Cody is merely warming up, that he will stop stroking his cock, stop torturing me like this; that he will finally allow me to crawl inside and swallow him down to his balls. Or perhaps he is getting himself ready to bend me over and spear me with his cock, and this is just a way to get it lubed up for a nasty, painful fuck.

But the more he strokes, the more he watches the TV, completely ignoring the faggot he has stationed outside as his audience, the more the truth becomes plain: I am only here to watch. He is deliberately torturing me, denying me the one thing I crave more than anything else. He knows how insanely horny I am. The increasingly desperate messages I've sent begging to serve him have made that abundantly clear. I am finally forced to admit to myself the ugly truth: Cody brought me here for exactly this torture, to make me watch him enjoy the exact pleasure he has denied to me - stroking himself to orgasm. Not only can I not touch myself, I'm forced to watch him do it, which is doubly agonizing.

I am in awe of his cruelty.

Cody wraps both hands around his shaft, squeezing it, admiring its size, almost waving it at me. He is showing off how big it is to add to my torment. He strokes it faster, using both hands now. He throws his head back. I know what is about to happen; I've seen that look before, many times, and it's followed by my mouth being filled with his seed. Not this time, though. I imagine I can actually hear him groan as he shoots his load, his cum arcing out in long ropes and landing on the towel at his feet.

As I watch this scene play out, I realize I am now crying as a result of my frustration and horniness.

Cody bends over and wipes his hands on the towel at his feet, then picks it up and grabs his keys from the table next to him. He opens the door and walks over to me, his cock still hard. Perhaps I am wrong; perhaps he does intend to use me after all. He walks over to me and stands right in front of me, his cock bobbing less than a quarter inch from my mouth, one last, perfect drop of his cum beaded on the tip. I stretch out my tongue, trying to at least touch it, but he moves away, teasing me with it. Suddenly, he steps forward and rubs his cock on my upper lip, smearing the drop of cum across my lip and on to my nose. The smell of his semen is intoxicating. I think I may cum just from the smell, without any contact at all to my dick, but can't quite manage it. Cody places his bare foot on the front of my jockstrap, pressing against the plastic cage, his toes right against my nuts. He plays with the cage the way he did before, bouncing it around, enjoying my predicament. He takes the towel and opens it up, turning it upside down and rubbing his cum on me - in my hair, on my face, all over my head.

My eyes are closed, breathing in his scent, licking his seed off my lips as much as I can, trying to get any part of him inside me, even if it's just drops of his cum. At the same time, I notice a pattern. This is the second time he has called me here and denied me, sending me home covered in his cum, but without the chance to truly worship him. He has transformed me from his cocksucker to his cumrag. As much as that disgusts me, I am more disgusted that I feel happy to get even that much. If he would allow me, I'd beg aloud for it, even beg for his piss at this point. That's how horny I am, just that desperate. What is the power this young jock has over me, and why do I need his abuse so badly?

I don't see him unlock my collar, but I feel it, and know what it means. We are done. This is all there is. He walks over and unlocks the wooden chest, then turns and goes back inside, my last glimpse of him being his beautiful ass as he turns out the light and locks the patio door.

I thought it would be impossible for me to get any hornier than I already was, but I was wrong. Another lesson Cody has taught me, as I am forced to drive home, my jockstrap soaked with my precum, and every breath I take permeated with the scent of his load. I will never be able to sleep like this, but I can't stand the thought of washing it off.

For now, it's all of him I have.

********************

I call in sick the next day. I'm still exhausted from the lack of sleep and my trip to Cody's last night. And, truth be told, I am still covered in the remnants of Cody's dried cum. How pathetic is that? I hate myself for feeling this way; but each time I inhale and get a whiff of his scent, it makes my caged dick throb, my full balls ache. My obsession with Cody is reaching dangerous levels.

I nap. I roam my house, debating how much more I can put up with, how much longer I can handle being locked in this chastity device, and whether it's all worth it. I could easily find another cock to suck, someone else willing to use me and even abuse me.

But none of them will be like Cody. He is a rare find, and I know it. That combination of angelic looks and evil mind; a truly straight alpha male jock that is still willing to use a faggot like me to get off. And that cock - the biggest I've ever seen in real life, definitely the biggest I've ever had in me. It has become an addiction.

I am just about to sit down and eat my dinner when the message comes in: "Now." My food, already on the plate, is left uneaten. Being summoned two nights in a row is another change, but one I thank God for. My desperation, my need for relief, or, alternatively, for Cody's cock inside me, has surpassed anything I thought I could tolerate. I am functioning now almost on instinct, a walking, throbbing sexual being.

Summertime means it there is still plenty of light out as I strip on Cody's patio; plenty of light to allow anyone who cares to look to see how desperate I am, how quickly I rush to abase myself for Cody's amusement; to see the huge wet spot already forming on the front of my jockstrap where my precum drains out of the bottom of the cage. Anyone could see me here, the collared, nearly-naked fag ready to beg for cock. And I am ready. Ready to do anything and everything he wants.

He makes me wait about 20 minutes before he comes downstairs and unlocks the door. As many times as I've done this, as often as I've been exposed out here like this, I should be used to it, should have overcome my fear of being seen, but every single time it is just as bad as the first time. My need for Cody is mixed, as always, with relief to be out of public view as I crawl inside and immediately start kissing his bare feet.

Cody must be off tonight. He is wearing nothing but a pair of athletic shorts, thin ones which seem barely able to contain his erection. He lets me kiss his feet for a few minutes while he stands over me, then snaps his fingers and points to his erect cock, which is now hanging out of his shorts. I need no other invitation. I swoop down on his dick, reveling in the way it fills my mouth to capacity. Cody grabs my head and forces himself down my throat as far as he can go, so that his balls are resting on my chin. He holds it there as I try to breath and begin to choke. Finally, he lets me up for air, only to repeat the process; not fucking my mouth, just making sure the entire length of his cock is lodged firmly in my throat. Finally, he pulls it out of my mouth entirely, shining with my mucus and spit. He snaps his fingers and points to the arm of the couch. There is a towel laying over it. I'm about to get fucked.

Cody has never used my ass before, and, to be blunt, I'm terrified. Not of getting fucked - guys have done that before, certainly. But I've never taken a cock the size of Cody's. Based on the way he plows my throat, I know I'm in for rough and painful ride. I have no time to prepare for this, mentally or physically, as I feel him move into position behind me, the swollen head of his cock pressed against my vulnerable hole. The jockstrap leaves my hole perfectly exposed, and keeps my dick out of sight, just the way he prefers it. He doesn't pause, but shoves right in, the big knob popping inside my anal ring so fast it takes my breath away. Cody starts shoving his massive log inside my ass, using my own spit on his cock as lube. He gives me about half his cock before I can catch my breath. I am intimately familiar with the size and shape of his dick, but that's when it's in my mouth; going up my ass, it feels ten times bigger. Cody is relentless, but not brutal - he obviously knows the damage he can do with his dick. Inch after inch, it fills me. Just when I stretch to accommodate what's already inside me, he adds more. I am already stuffed to the length of most men's dicks, but Cody's cock is still only halfway in. It seems like it will never end, him putting this thing in my guts, rearranging them so they fit around his cock. He shoves his hips forward, spearing the rest deep inside me, until, at last, he is buried in me all the way. His cock feels like it is about to come out of my mouth, that's how full I am; his pole is reaching places deep inside me no man has ever touched before, the girth of it stretching me painfully.

The spit and mucus from my throat provide just enough lubricant to keep my hole from being damaged, but not enough to lessen the pain of this invasion. I have never felt so full. The thickness of his manhood pressing against my prostate, swollen as it is from my enforced chastity, is like nothing I've ever felt, like the start of an orgasm each time his cock touches it.

He fucks me then. Each time he withdraws, it feels like he is turning me inside out; with each thrust of his cock, it feels as if he is reaching inside me with his arm, all the way up to my chest, squeezing my heart. Every inch of his cock rubbing against my prostate threatens to send me over the edge, to make me shoot my two-week load of cum without even touching myself.

Cody pulls his cock all the way out of my ass, and it suddenly feels like he has removed a part of me, the gaping emptiness inside a painful absence. I ache to have him back inside me, to have him joined with me, body to body. He suddenly impales me full-length on his cock, driving it deep inside in a single thrust, only to pull completely out of me and repeat the process, grudge fucking me. I am out of my mind, squealing - literally squealing - each time he punch-fucks me with his cock.

I am riding a wave of sensation, both from the pounding of Cody's cock in my ass and the stimulation of my prostate. I am on the very crest of an orgasm, but the wave never breaks, never spills over into a sensation of release, instead keeping me there at that peak right before you shoot, unable to go over the brink. At the same time, I can feel the cum flowing out of my caged dick and leaking on to the towel below me. Cody's huge cock is milking my prostate, forcing the cum out of my balls in a near-constant flow without the benefit of an orgasm - physical release, but no pleasure, and also no relief from my burning desire.

He reaches a crescendo and slams deep into me, his balls banging into mine from behind, as he shoots his load deep into my guts, breeding me, claiming me as his bitch. I experience his orgasm almost as if it were my own, even though my pitiful dick is still locked in the cage, untouched and unable to get fully hard, my nuts still aching. Whatever cum Cody's fucking has forced out of my nuts isn't nearly enough to relieve my blue balls.

He lies on top of me momentarily, catching his breath. I cherish the moment, the closeness, the feel of his big pole still plugging my hole, almost like it was a new part of my body. Too soon, he stands up and pulls his softening cock from my ass, leaving my hole gaping and dilated, his cum slowly beginning to trickle out of me.

I have never felt so empty.

Cody snaps his fingers. I drop to my knees instinctively and begin to kiss his feet. He reaches down and unlocks my collar, then pulls up his shorts. I whimper as he dresses, knowing he is about to take his cock away from me again. He walks outside and unlocks the chest, waiting on me to crawl outside. Reluctantly, I crawl to him and kiss his bare feet again before he turns and walks back inside, closing and locking the door behind him.