His Frustrated Slave

Jeff was a tall, clean cut and high-powered modern man. He was a businessman who worked in a high rise, and lived in a gated mansion. While he enjoyed work, there was nothing he loved more than returning home in his super car and being greeted by his girlfriend Trixie.

Trixie was short, cute, and light as a feather. She had a flat chest, but a big ass. Since moving in with Jeff, she hadn't left their property or put on any shoes or socks. The floors may have been hardwood and cold, but she knew it pleased Jeff to see her barefoot, so she trotted around the home and garden in her leggings, jeans, sweatpants, and skirts, but never shoes or socks.

Jeff like her feet because they were small, cute, and complimented her shaved legs well, especially when they poked out the bottom of a pair of long pants. Trixie made sure they were as appealing as possible, painting her toenails a new pink, purple, or red every day to match her fingernails and lipstick. On the days Jeff went to work, Trixie dressed more formally and sexy, wearing a sweater with the back cut out, tube top and skirt combo, or sometimes just a bra and panties. And when Jeff came home, he would press her against the wall and have passionate sex, making her always-visible toes curl and her feet quake with pleasure against the floor. Jeff always got more out of it, though; Trixie only came once in a blue moon.

On that particular night, Jeff and Trixie were having a dinner party with two other couples: the middle aged Hardesons, and the lesbian couple Stevie and Danica. Trixie had been working since she woke up to get the dinner to perfection, meaning she had eaten nothing all day. She was starving, and suspected her ribs were showing.

An hour before the meal was ready, Jeff came home. He was wearing a three piece suit, while Trixie wore a striped sundress, cut high.

"Where's my little girl?" Jeff called out, slipping out of his stuffy clothes.

"I don't like it when you call me that," Trixie complained, arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Sorry, little girl," Jeff said with a grin, "How about you give your man what he's been waiting for all day?"

"Dinner will be ready in an hour," Trixie said, "Oh. You mean that other thing. Sorry, Jeff. I really don't feel like it at all. I've not eaten anything all day!"

"Well, then let me fill you up."

"Please?"

"I've got a raging hard-on like you wouldn't believe. Lift up your skirt for me... oh, yeah! Now turn around and bend over."

Trixie bent over, touching the ground with her hands and feet planted, legs straight, and butt pointed high in the air. She pulled the bottom of her dress over her butt and let it fall down to her shoulders, revealing her lack of both panties and bra. Jeff grabbed her supple hips and fucked her ass, hard. Trixie blinked away tears of pain and sadness, then cleaned cum up off the floor and started cooking again after she washed her hands.

"Great cooking, Trixie," Mr. Hardeson complimented. The others at the table joined in their praise, including Jeff. "I knew as soon as I tasted it--no offense, Jeff--that it had to be a woman's work."

"You got that right!" Jeff said to laughter.

Danica rose with her glass in her hand.

"You don't have to get up. What is it that you need?" Trixie asked, rising to her bare feet and standing between Danica and the refrigerator. For a moment, she worried that she rose too fast, and consequently revealed her lack of underwear.

"Oh, just some more ice water."

"I got it." Trixie said, feet slapping against the floor as she walked. Everyone else was wearing shoes. Trixie didn't even have any in her closet.

"Wow," Mrs. Hardeson said, looking around the room, "You really do have a wonderful home."

Stevie added, "Have you ever considered having kids? I know if Danica and I could, we'd do it in a heartbeat."

Jeff played it off, "Oh, we probably never will. I just can't imagine us ever having a kid."

"Well, I can," Mrs. Hardeson said.

Suddenly, just as Trixie finished filling the cup with ice and closed the freezer door, she was overcome by intense sexual feelings. She awkwardly shuffled over to the dinner table and handed Danica her drink. Then, she began leaking, and without panties to catch it, the crotch of her dress started getting soaked. She awkwardly held her napkin to her groin, hoping to hide the spreading stain. She whimpered under her breath while she tried to regain composure.

About an hour later, Jeff and Trixie were saying goodbye to their guests on the front porch, Trixie wearing an apron since she'd just been putting everything away. The leaking had stopped, but not her pent up frustration.

Jeff and Trixie were back at the table, putting everything away.

"So, why'd you put the apron on?"

Trixie stopped what she was doing. "I started leaking." She walked over to Jeff and hugged him. "I just want to come so bad!"

Jeff said, "Well, it's a good thing you had the cage on." He snatched the front of Trixie's dress and pulled it up, revealing a set of male genitalia encased by a small steel cage, a set of metal plates and bars that completely prevented erections. "If you weren't locked in one of these, you would've came back to the table with a bulge in your dress! How would we have kept your little secret after that, huh?"

"I understand wearing the cage in front of others. I do. But why does it have to be all the time?"

"Because, when we first started dating, you agreed to a ten year sentence of chastity. And it isn't really chastity if I let you out when you want, now is it?"

"But that block of ice in the fridge. It taunts me, Jeff." Trixie had jumped in front of Danica because she didn't want her to see the freezer, which contained a block of ice with a key in the middle of it. If Danica saw that, there could be no explanation. "Every time I look at that thing, I want to take it out of the fridge, smash it on the ground, get the key and jerk off."

"But then you remember what consequences there would be," Jeff reminded. Trixie had a $10 million trust in her name, waiting for her the moment she completed her decade of chastity. Back then, she was a boy named Tristan who didn't realize exactly how Jeff would change him. Jeff legally renamed Tristan, slipped him estrogen, changed his wardrobe, and fucked him in the ass to no sexual pleasure until Tristan became Trixie. Trixie still had eight years to go, and if she broke the ice, all eight digits would automatically go to charity.

Jeff playfully slapped Trixie's cage, who winced hard in pain and pleasure. Trixie had tried many times to jerk off in the cage, to no avail. She tried anal sex toys, to no avail. Only by a vibrator on the cage and another vibrator in her ass could she have a pathetic, humiliating orgasm-in-name-only. Even then, she hadn't had one of those in many months. She leaked all over the house now.

"Alright, Trixie. I'll be in bed, naked. If you want to fuck, just come upstairs dressed sexy. Otherwise, just wear what you're wearing and clean up the kitchen," Jeff said, trotting up the stairs.

Jeff was gone, and Trixie stood alone, wearing nothing but the apron--Jeff requested she leave only it on. By this point, she was horny beyond all rationality. All she wanted was to cum. She stared with the freezer door open, frigid air blasting her tiny tits, budding from estrogen. Careful not to alert Jeff, she placed the ice block in the sink and tried to chisel through it with a corkscrew. After several careful, unproductive taps, she noticed a crack in the key, and it was growing. Desperate, she hurled the block to the ground, hoping that the key would survive and that she could cum before Jeff came down and stopped her.

The ice block loudly burst into a million pieces all over the floor. Trixie, still barefoot and wearing just her apron, crawled around looking for the key because it was too dangerous to walk upright. Her back arched, and her ass pointed up into the air, genitals batting around uselessly below. Finally, she found the key, miraculously unbroken. She heard footsteps smacking down the stairs. Trixie tried the key in the lock. It didn't work. She tried the key the other way. It still didn't work. Balls aching, more desperate than ever for relief, she tried just pulling the cage off, but the pain in her testicles became too great. Reaching maximum frustration, she threw the key across the floor and feebly shook her cage around, a crude facsimile of jerking off. She had never been further from orgasm.

Jeff landed on the first floor, and picked the key up off the ground, smirking. "This was never the key to your cage. You will only ever get that by doing what I say, and never by any other way. This was a test, and you failed."

Trixie cried, her tear ducts and penis emitting about the same amount of fluid.

"Your trust fund has just been donated to a political campaign that hates transgender people. Good job. And, now you know, that you don't even have hope. You will not have an erection for eight more years, Trixie."

"Tristan! Please call me Tristan! I'm a man! You know what? I'm done with you. I'm leaving."

"I can assure you there is no way to escape that cage without the key. Both the lock and the cage are titanium. The lock is unpickable. There's no machine or tool in the world that can get that off you without seriously damaging you. So, if you walk out of this house tonight, you will not have an erection for the rest of your life. Plus, it's cold out there, and you don't have any shoes."

Trixie, devastated, pounded the floor with her fist, ass pointed toward her master. Jeff took this as an opportunity to fuck her in the ass. Trixie ended up producing more sexual fluid, but Jeff was the only one who came. Trixie was left with tingling, frustrating genitals, and eight more years to look forward to.