For Pete's Place Pt. 03

This is a continuation of a previous story, so I'm anticipating that you've read that as well. But just in case you need a reminder, or for some reason decided to jump in here, this story takes place in a cumshift world. Details about that can be found in my essay about the world rules. This chapter will start to touch on the world, but for the most part, it isn't super important to how things in this chapter will develop. Beyond that, also remember that Pete's deal is that Alex is basically a sex toy in exchange for Pete's supporting him, but he only ever demands to cum once per day at Alex's hand.

Thanks to everyone who reads

-AR2

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I was getting very irritable. Partially because I was getting very horny. And not just the "I want to fuck something right now" kind of immediate horny that you get in the moment, oh no, I was getting the "if I don't cum in the next couple days, my balls are going to explode" kind of general horny that you get when you just can't get a break to relieve yourself for days on end and it starts to consume your every waking moment even when not actually thinking about or actively wanting sex right now and the cumulative sexual frustration just makes you want to do something drastic that you know everyone involved will regret and your mind just goes to weird place to try to solve the problem and even though you know they're all ridiculous, you're so desperate some of the ideas start to makes a little too much sense. You know what I'm talking about?

So anyway.

Pete had locked my dick up in a cock cage a week ago while I was sleeping. I had gotten mad about it, for obvious reasons, and had yelled and screamed at him. He simply stated that it was well within the terms of our deal, which was true, and that I was free to leave at any time, which was also true, and that if I did, the deal would be void and I wouldn't have to wear it anymore and he would give me the key to take it off, which I have to admit is also probably true. But I had nowhere else to go. My job hadn't paid me enough yet to be able to support myself yet, and I still had nowhere else to go or any other backup plans. So I had to stay at Pete's. So I had to stay locked up.

After my initial burst of rage, I tried to rationalize my situation. How long would I really be locked up? Certainly not indefinitely. It had to come off at some point, so until then, I just had to come to terms with the fact that I wasn't getting laid until that time happened, at least. I convinced myself that the cage was fine so long as I stayed limp, and I could stay limp as long as I wasn't getting laid in the immediate future.

But I was wrong, and I discovered that in less than a day. With the cage on, I couldn't stand while I peed, I had to sit down. Maybe not the worst thing in the world, but a mild inconvenience, added to by the fact that I couldn't just shake out the last couple drops either, I had to use toilet paper to wipe it off the edge of the cage. The next thing I discovered which should have seemed obvious, is that I couldn't jerk off either, since my cock couldn't get hard enough to be jerked, so I just had to ride out the urge as my little guy strained helplessly just to get up for work. What had never even crossed my mind was that I couldn't even get random erections anymore.

Did you know you get random erections while you sleep? I'm sure I'd heard that before, but it never really clicked for me because, well, I was asleep whenever it happened to me. But I was aware now, because when I would normally get random erections, now I got woken up as my cock crushed itself in the cage trying to break out. This meant I woke up vaguely horny and unable to do anything about it, so I had to wait for the horniness to subside, and then wait to fall back to sleep. And I was waking up at least once a night.

So yea, all that put together and never ending for a week was getting on my nerves. And the worst part of it was that while all this was going on, as I'm sure you remember, I still lived with Pete, so I still had to pay him his daily blowjob, so I knew he was getting off, and he was doing it every day. So as I knelt there in front of the couch on that Sunday night, servicing Pete as he drank a beer, unable to service myself, I seethed. A week had gone by like this now. 7 whole days and nights. And now the whole weekend had gone by without any relief either, which I had really been banking on.

After he filled my throat with cum and I swallowed it, I got up onto the couch and continued to stew in my anger. The thought of having missed the whole weekend's opportunities had made me think of getting the chance to fuck Ash again, which had stirred my cock and I was still waiting for it to calm back down. I decided to try raising the complaint with Pete again.

"Pete, I need some relief man. Can you just take this damn thing off already?"

"What? Oh the cage," Pete said, lazily sipping his beer. "Sorry buddy, that's the deal. It comes off when I want it to, or you can leave and take it off then."

"Pete, I've been in this thing for a week. Do you have any idea what it's like not to be able to cum for a week? It's not just that I can't get laid, I can't even fucking masturbate to just ease the goddamn tension!"

"Yea you can," Pete offered unhelpfully without explaining.

I glared at him. "I can what?" I asked.

"Masturbate," he clarified. "You can still masturbate, you just can't jerk off specifically. And I promise you, you can still cum just fine. I need another beer, you want one Alex?"

I gawked at him as he got up and walked to the kitchen. "No, I don't want a beer, I want to know what the fuck you're smoking! What are you talking about 'you can still masturbate', whaat the fuck does that mean?"

"Your prostate," Pete answered nonchalantly. He walked back into the living room with his new bottle, popping the top off as he sat down beside me again. "You can stimulate your prostate for sexual pleasure, i.e. you can masturbate. And believe me, it's the most intense orgasm you'll ever have."

"Ok," I said through gritted teeth, not wanting to admit I needed a brief anatomy lesson. "And how exactly do I do that Doctor Helpful?"

"It's not all that hard to find," Pete said. He rolled onto his side and pointed at the seat of his pants. "It's right here, just under the skin of your taint." He sat back down and added, "It's easiest to get too through your asshole, but you can massage it from the outside easily enough. If you need a little extra help, there's a bunch of toys in your bedside table you can use. Masturbatory aids and massagers, that kind of thing." You'd have thought he was telling my how to get the most out of a new sound system or customize the controls in a new game. This conversation was just regular fair to him.

But I was hearing something entirely different from what he was saying. "So you're telling me to go fuck myself then," I said angrily. "I mean, you are literally telling me to go fuck myself, that's your solution?"

He shrugged. "That's not how I would put it, but sure, if you want to be offended about it. You had a problem, I offered you a solution, that's all." He never looked at me throughout the conversation. He didn't find it important enough to stop watching...fuck, I don't even know what he was watching, I was so angry I couldn't focus.

"You know what? You can go fuck yourself too Pete. This is bullshit and you know it. You can let me out anytime, but you don't because you're a dick." I got up and stormed off back to my room. I crawled into bed and turned on my tv, not really watching whatever was happening on the screen, just needing the background noise while I fumed.

About an hour later, I was still fuming. Looking at the tv as the colors moved across the screen in pictures I didn't consciously register while cursing Pete and everything he stood for. My cock stirred in its cage. At first I winced at the soreness as it failed to get hard, then I wondered why it was trying to get hard in the first place. I turned my attention to the movie for the first time and realized a rather steamy sex scene was happening. It wasn't x-rated, but I was so desperately horny right now that it might as well have been. I watched it through, not caring that my dick strained to get hard as I enjoyed the soft porn happening in front of me.

The scene finally ended and I looked over to my bedside table. I was now horny and desperate enough, I could easily convince myself I was doing it out of spiteful rage, which was almost true, and which I did. "Go fuck myself, huh?" I muttered, "Well, let's do just that then." I slid the drawer open and looked through the various assembled toys.

Pete had called them masturbaters and massagers, which was probably their professional name, but I knew them as dildos and vibrators. And while I normally would have refused them on principle, my balls were to blue to care. As it had so many times in the last month and a half, my pride took a back seat to my needs. I grabbed one that looked sufficient and dropped my pants to use the thing.

I found some lube in the drawer and applied it before lining the dildo up with my asshole. I didn't even hesitate, I just shoved the thing inside me and grit my teeth. I'd had butt plugs in me several times now, but this was something else. It didn't just sit there and let my muscles hold it in place. I pushed against all my muscles as they clamped down, trying to push it back out, and it was much longer and deeper inside me.

I paused when I had it in me, trying to get used to the feeling. I was on my knees in bed, my ass in the air and face to the sheets. My arm reached behind me to hold the dildo. I remembered what Pete said about where the prostate was and how to stimulate it. I reached my other hand down between my legs, mast the cage, and pressed my fingers to where my prostate should have been according to Pete.

I was surprised to feel something come over me as my fingers dug into my skin. I'd found it, and just pressing on it from the outside was like a solid stroke on my cock. I guesstimated where it was in relation to the dildo in my other hand and tried to reposition it. When I found it with the dildo, I took an experimental stroke, pulling the dildo out a couple inches and then pushing it gently back in against my prostate. A shiver ran up my spine as the organ released another wave of minuscule pleasure.

I gave another pump of the dildo, then another and another. I was actually starting to get some relief. And I as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I was hungry for more. I began to massage the outside with my fingertips, keeping the organ stimulated while the dildo withdrew for another thrust. And what had started as just relief melted into pleasure as I found a rhythm that worked for me. In no time at all, I was gasping and grunting in pleasure as a familiar pressure built in my loins.

And then suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, orgasm ripped through me and my balls exploded. Cum leaked out of the cage and onto my wrist, but I didn't dare stop the action, so I let it drip down and around my arm and onto the bed. I was too euphoric to care about petty stains at the moment. I just wanted to milk this moment to its last drop.

After the last drop had fallen, after I had caught my breath, my senses returned to a sharpness it hadn't been in nearly a week, and I became disgusted with myself. I slid the dildo out of my ass. I considered just tossing it back in the drawer, but that was a level of petty and disgusting I just wasn't at yet. I got up and walked to the bathroom with it, washing the thing off in the sink. I also washed off my arm, which was dripping with cum.

I returned to my bedside and put the dildo back in the drawer, then addressed the line of cum stains on the sheets. I wiped as much of it up as I could with a towel from the bathroom, and that got most of it. I could clean the sheets, but there was no way to get to the laundry without Pete noticing, and I just knew he would figure out what I was doing immediately. I just couldn't give him the satisfaction. I decided to let them sit and see if the stain didn't just dry out, or at worst get washed out in the next laundry cycle I could get around to doing.

I swore I wouldn't do anything like that again, even if Pete had been right about the ferocity of the orgasm. My determination lasted all of two days, and by the third day I was a breath away from repeating the act. Incidentally, on that particular day, Pete had me wear a butt plug, panties, and a miniskirt while servicing him on the couch.

My mind once again drifted to Ash as I was sucking Pete's cock, which made my own cock fill its cage. The strain caught my attention and brought it too my lower body, and I realized the weight of my butt plug was pulling on my prostate. If only it could move, just a little, and I could reach it and get some relief. I reached a free hand under down between my legs and under my skirt until I found the plug's cap with my fingers tips. I gave it a nudge in one direction, and then the opposite, getting a feel for how to move it around the way I wanted it to move.

When I found a way of moving it that adequately stimulated my prostate, I began to flick the plug in the desired direction and the waves of pleasure started to roll over me. I lost myself in it, letting my mind melt away as I played with the toy in my ass. My senses glazed over and as I embraced the feelings, I let my attention to Pete's blowjob slip into the back of my mind, performing on autopilot rather than actively trying to end it.

From my position, it should have been difficult, if not impossible, for Pete to see what I was doing. Luckily, Pete seemed not to notice or care that my performance had dropped. After a while, much longer than usual I'd wager, although I had no real perception of time, Pete finally pumped his load into my mouth and I dreamily swallowed it, barely coming to my senses afterword. I got up, like I usually did, and walked back to my room. This was pretty regular practice for me, or at least I tried to make it look like regular practice.

But as soon as the door to my room was closed, I rushed over to my nightstand and pulled the dildo and lube out of the drawer. I got into position on the bed and pulled my panties down just enough to expose my asshole and yanked out the butt plug with a small *pop*. I quickly lubed up the dildo and replaced it, finding my prostate with it and setting to work. I was desperate and horny and I knew what would cure me. I needed this, I had no alternatives, and I knew I would do it again and again and again. My pride shattered.

I pounded myself with the dildo, loving the sensation but needing it to go faster. I pushed my free hand into the drawer and rifled around for what I needed. I grabbed the device, like a neon-colored microphone, and pulled it out. I flicked the power switch on and listened to it buzz to life, vibrating at a frequency I'm sure would have been impressive if I cared in the slightest about the specifications. But I just needed it to work, and it was working exactly like I needed it too. I reached between my legs with the thing and pressed it to my taint.

I began to moan immediately, and I had to forcibly remind myself that I was in the middle of something and resume fucking myself with the dildo. I could feel myself sprinting toward orgasm at a speed I couldn't have measured. It came up like a train, flying toward me and then all at once knocking me over before I fully processed it was imminently approaching. Like I had earlier that week, I peeked cum onto my arm, and it dripped down onto the bed from there. I rode out the full thing until I was exhausted and could do nothing but sit there and try to recover.

I finally recovered and did the things I had to do. I wiped as much cum as I could off the sheets, leaving a couple new stains next to the ones that had appeared Sunday night. I extracted the dildo and cleaned both it and my arm before putting the dildo and vibrator back in the drawer. I made a mental note of how I would need to do this in the future so as not to make a mess when it happened again, because I knew for certain it would.

And it did, several more times. I took to wearing a butt plug whether Pete asked me to or not during the blowjob. I started going a couple days at a time without masturbating, but I was soon doing it at least once nightly. After three weeks, it had become so ingrained as a part of my routine I almost didn't really derive pleasure from it anymore, doing it almost as much out of habit as relief or pleasure. And it only got worse after I lost my job (again), and I spent almost as much of my waking time in my room masturbating as doing anything else useful. But I made preparations and didn't make a mess anymore.

Three weeks later, I went to give Pete his blowjob, and as he often did, he demanded to see my butt plug in. I dropped my pants to show him, but as soon as they were low enough, Pete reached out and grabbed hold of my cock. Before I even knew what he was doing, he had inserted a small brass key into the lock and unfastened it. He finally let me take the thing off, and I went about his blowjob the way I usually did. It was liberating to finally be free of the thing. But then I had to get on my knees and suck Pete's cock anyway.

After Pete's blowjob, I rushed back to my room as discreetly as I could manage. I was rock hard, and for the first time in a long time, not constrained. I quickly unleashed the thing and wrapped my hand around it, pumping it furiously. Almost automatically, I reached for the bedside table and pulled the vibrator out of the drawer. I flicked it on and pressed it to my prostate for that magical feeling.

I moaned as the familiar sensations overlapped in a novel way and I was subjected to ecstasy untold. In no time at all, I was reaching my climax and loving every second of it. It was beautiful and intense, better than any other orgasm I'd had in my life. Any other besides the ones I'd had since Pete locked my cock in the cage at least. In fact, as good as it felt, it was honestly a bit of a let down after having gotten used to those in the last few weeks.

I jerked off the same way the next night, but found it even more underwhelming. The following night I started, but quickly began to lose interest. I eventually stopped, laying on my bed, defeated yet still horny, but not quite sure how to continue. My eyes fell on my bedside table, where the toys were kept. And I went into the tables drawer for one of those toys now.

I fished out the dildo and examined it. I contemplated it while slowly stroking my cock and decided to go for it. Just once more. I grabbed the lube and got into the now familiar position. And then I was lost in euphoric pleasure. I moaned and rocked, and when I'd had enough, I came as I had so many times before now, and it was bliss. And it was bliss every night from then on, but it was a cheap bliss. Less and less with each day.

It hadn't been the same since...I didn't want to admit when, but my eyes wandered to the forgotten corner of my bedside table's drawer, where a certain item had been discarded a week ago. I dragged my gaze from it, but I knew I had found my answer. The little cage beckoned to me. Without further prompting, I picked up the little device and fitted it over my cock, locking it in place. And then I picked up the other toys and went to my usual business. And finally, I knew the ultimate pleasure again.

Pete had unlocked the thing, and less than a week later, I had willingly put it back on. And when I finished masturbating, I went to take it off again. But there was a problem. Pete had given me back the cage and its lock, but had kept the key. I was now stuck in the thing again.