The Chaste Boy and the Locksmith

A little bell tinkled softly as the door closed behind me. A shiver shot up my spine as I stood there in that little shop waiting to be helped. For a brief moment, I thought about running out the door and living with my current predicament. Just as I was about to act on that impulse, an older man stepped from behind a curtain. He looked to be older than my father. He stood well over 6 feet tall with broad shoulders and arms larger than my thighs. But he looked kind and understanding, two qualities I was in desperate need of. After seeing him, I considered making up a story and leaving quickly. But there was something about him that kept me from being dishonest.

He offered a smile and asked how he could help me. I stood there stupidly, rocking from one foot to the other, nibbling on my lower lip and feeling so insignificant. When I finally opened my mouth, I nervously said, "Um, I called earlier. My name is Cameron."

His expression changed from that of a kind shop keeper to that of a sympathetic parent. In a gentle voice he asked, "Are you the boy who has found himself locked in a chastity belt?"

I nodded my head a few times but left my chin lowered. I felt so embarrassed. Nearly two months had passed since my girlfriend left my life. Two months of agonizing frustration in the chastity belt she left me locked in. I'd waited as long as I could, I waited until I was sure she wasn't coming back from the 3-day business trip she left for over seven weeks ago.

After failing to find a way to remove the steel chastity belt myself, I resigned myself to the fact that I'd need help. I called dozens of locksmiths, asking vague questions, not wanting to let on to the situation I found myself in. I listened to their voices, trying to find a kind, understanding tone. Hoping to find a woman, but apparently locksmithing is a predominately male field.

I finally settled on a friendly sounding man and hinted to him about my situation. Oddly enough, the link to his website had been marked as if it had been viewed before. His calm, friendly voice prodded me about my situation until I bashfully gave in and told him. He suggested I stop by his shop so he could take a look at the lock. He assured me that he'd be able to release me from the cage I was being kept in.

Standing in his shop, blushing from head to toe, I had never been so embarrassed. He stepped around the counter and approached me. Holding out his hand, he introduced himself as Mr. Harris, the owner and operator of Harris Locksmithing. I struggled, but somehow managed to look up into his eyes while reaching out to shake his hand. I've always had issues shaking hands. I wind up with the other person shaking just my fingers, which makes me feel feminine every time it happens. And the handshake with Mr. Harris was no different.

After the handshake was finished, he continued to hold my fingers and suggested we move into his work room in the back of his shop. He understood I'd need to compromise my modesty for him to examine the cage and knew I'd want some level of privacy. Laying his hand on my lower back, he guided me behind the counter and though a curtain. The room I found myself in was extremely organized with tools hanging from pegboard on two walls, a door leading outside to the rear of the building and the wall with curtained opening I'd just passed through. The two walls with doorways each had sturdy looking cupboards and workbenches covering the space not occupied by the door or curtain. In the very middle of the room was a large, square bench which was completely empty and looked recently cleaned. There was a large light hanging from the ceiling and another light on an arm that could be adjusted to whatever position he needed.

Still standing behind me, Mr. Harris laid his hands on my hips and almost whispered, "Cameron, I need you to lower your pants and hop up on my work bench."

I was terribly nervous. I felt my body shiver with anxiety. I was about to lower my pants in front of a man I'd just met and show him the chastity belt that contained my poor penis! He must've felt my body shiver too. Because he leaned forward and told me that he couldn't help if I wouldn't show him what he needed to do.

So, with shaking hands I opened my belt, undid the button on my khaki's and slowly lowered the zipper. After pulling out my shirt tails from my pants, I wiggled my pants and underwear downward to about mid-thigh. I wanted to vanish! I was so embarrassed! I'm not sure if I imagined it or not, but I could swear I heard him whisper, "Good boy."

Mr. Harris used his hands on my hips to have me step closer to his workbench. He then had me turn around to face him. While I turned, my pants and underwear fell around my ankles. Before I had a chance to reach down and pull them back up, Mr. Harris slipped his hands under my arms and lifted me onto his workbench. Even with my shirt tails hiding my privates, I immediately covered myself with both hands.

In that understanding tone, Mr. Harris said, "Cameron, I know this must be very embarrassing for you. But I can't help you unless I can see what I need to work on." Laying his hands on my thighs, he gently pressed them apart until my legs were spread as wide as they would go. But with my underpants and dockers around my ankles it was a little awkward. Without a word, Mr. Harris knelt down and untied my shoes and slipped them off, followed by my socks. I knew I'd have to expose myself to him to some extent, but I didn't think he'd need to remove my pants completely. For some unknown reason, I didn't resist at all. I let him undress me without even questioning him. There I sat, bottomless, on this man's workbench that I'd just met! It was wildly embarrassing, but made my penis tingle at the same time.

He turned his back to me, crossed the room and laid my shoes down, tucked my socks into them and then folded my pants and laid them on top of shoes and topped it all off with my underpants. When he turned around and walked back toward me, I remained sitting there with my legs spread wide with my hands covering my privates. When he stood between my naked thighs, he looked into my eyes and suggested we remove my shirt as well. That way he wouldn't have anything in his way. He didn't wait for me to respond. He broke eye contact for only a moment while reaching up to undo the buttons on my shirt.

While slowly removing my last article of clothing, he began quizzing me, "So tell me, who's idea was it for you to wear this chastity belt? Yours or your girlfriends?"

My voice shot up an octave or two, "It was both of us. But I guess, if I have to be honest, I mean, well, it was my idea first."

With my shirt half way unbuttoned and still looking into my eyes, he said, "You know it takes a special sort of boy to ask for a chastity belt. You gave all of your orgasms to someone else. That is a gift that should never be taken lightly. But it sounds like your girlfriend didn't appreciate what you'd given her."

When the last button was undone, he took hold of one side of the shirt and had me raise that arm and slide it out of the shirt. As soon as my arm cleared the sleeve, I quickly moved it back to cover my chastity belt. He then held the other side of the shirt and helped me remove my other arm from it. My pale skin shivered and goosebumps rose all over my body. As soon as I could, both hands were back covering my cage. There I sat before this grown man, completely naked, hiding my chastity belt behind my hands. I was so embarrassed, but my little penis was trying to throb in its cage. It was pulling against my little balls and I was sure it was bulging out of the slots in the cage. It was sort of painful, but more uncomfortable than anything. Its awkward position kept it from becoming erect, but allowed my arousal to leak out freely.

Mr. Harris turned his back to me again, crossed the room while folding my shirt and laid it on top of my other clothes. He came right back to me, without touching me, he asked me to lean back on my elbows while keeping my legs spread nice and wide. It took every ounce of willpower I had to comply with his instruction. He didn't seem too surprised at me leaning back on his bench, naked with my little penis in a chastity belt. He made me feel like this sort of thing happened all the time. But then he reached down and turned on the light directly over my naked body. I felt like I was in front of a huge crowd, in the spotlight, completely naked!

Mr. Harris sat on an elevated chair right between my legs. Without touching any part of me or my cage, he asked about my complete lack of body hair. While his eyes wandered from my caged penis to all of the other parts of my body, I tried to explain that my girlfriend gave laser hair removal for a living and she loved to practice her technique on me. She had done it often enough, that it was unlikely my hair would ever grow back. He smiled at my answer and said, "I like it. It's a good look on your petite body."

It wasn't the first time I'd been referred to as petite, but it made me shiver with embarrassment when he said it. Not quite standing 5'4" and weighing 130 lbs., I had always been small and thin. And I felt absolutely tiny perched on the bench in front of Mr. Harris.

He leaned forward and looked down at the lock on my chastity belt. He laid his giant hands on the insides of my naked thighs and gently pressed them further apart. Feeling his warm breath on my naked, hairless thighs and pubic area. My little cage was pressing away from my body which caused my balls to stretch the skin of my hairless scrotum taut. My little penis wanted to get stiff so badly!

He leaned in even closer and took the lock between his finger and thumb. With the other hand, he gently lifted the cage upward to see the hinge beneath my aching balls. After gently fondling my most private places for several minutes, he shakes his head from side to side. In a sympathetic tone he said, "My goodness son, you have gotten yourself into a terrible situation."

He followed that up by asking why I'd asked my girlfriend to lock up my penis. I struggled with an explanation while he held my little caged penis in his large, strong hand. He adjusted the overhead light so it shined more directly on my chastity belt.

When he asked how long it had been since I'd had an orgasm, I bit my lip and felt tears form in my eyes and whispered, "It was 8 weeks, yesterday." While still staring at my caged penis, he replied, "That's a shame. You are cute as a button. And your tight little body was built for sex." While he spoke those words, the middle finger of the hand that was holding my little balls slid down between my cheeks and gently pressed against my little wrinkled hole. I whimpered softly and was unable to keep my hips from grinding down on his finger.

He began tapping his finger against that tight ring of muscle and asked in his deep voice, "After two months, I bet you've been having a difficult time thinking about anything except sex. You've been a very horny little boy, haven't you?"

Grinding myself against his finger that was teasing my bottom. His other hand was gently holding my caged penis. He was correct. I'd been achingly horny for weeks. And sitting naked before this man, my level of arousal was at a new peak.

Looking up to my eyes and pressing his finger against the tight ring of my bottom, this giant of man asked, "Have you ever been with a man?"

I somehow found the strength to answer, but my voice was shaking when I whimpered, "No."

"But you've thought about it, haven't you?"

I looked away from his eyes. But found myself raising my chin to meet his gaze once again. Biting my lower lip and grinding my hips, I answered in the softest of voices, "I, I, I guess so. I mean, yes I suppose I have."

His lips spread into a smile and I felt the tip of his finger pop inside me. My head leaned back and a soft moan slipped through my lips. My poor, neglected penis fought to become erect in its cage. He released my chastity belt and slid his fingers up my hairless body until he pinched one nipple and then the other. He continued to pinch my nipples in time to the thrusting of his finger into my wrinkled hole.

That sexy, deep voice of his then asked, "Sweetheart, tell me what sort of man you fantasize yourself being with."

Another moan slipped through my lips and glancing down, I saw pearly drops of my excitement running down the sides of my cage. I whimpered, "A big, strong man."

He grinned quickly but it faded just as fast. With his fingers still teasing my neglected body, he asked, "And what does this big, strong man do to you in your fantasies?" As soon as he'd finished that sentence, I felt him press his finger in even deeper inside me. I guessed it to be to the second knuckle.

My hips bucked up against his finger and he pinched down my left nipple hard at the same time. I moaned deeply and spread my legs even farther apart while keeping my bare feet flat on the workbench. A thin layer of perspiration had covered my hairless body and seemed to glisten under the bright lights. Still leaning back on my elbows, I fought to look him in the eye. My lips opened a few times but nothing came out. Finally, I was able to utter a few words, "He, um, the man, he makes love to me."

Pinching my right nipple and then tickling his way back to my left nipple, his finger rhythmically thrust against my wrinkled hole. One of his eyebrows raised, "So this big, strong man puts his big, fat cock into your tight, little bottom? How does he do it? What position are you in?"

I was way beyond normal levels of horniness. I was in the stratosphere. I laid down flat on his work bench and began thrusting my hips up to meet the thrusts of his finger. But laying flat on the table kept him from seeing my eyes and expressions. He removed his finger and stepped away from the table. He told me not to move and that he'd be right back.

The first thing he did was to pick up my neat pile of clothing and place it all in a cabinet. Taking a key chain from his belt, he locked the cabinet. I had been naked in Mr. Harris's shop for nearly an hour. But watching him lock my clothes away made me feel even more exposed and trapped. It sent an erotic shiver shooting throughout my body. Without another word he disappeared through the curtain. I laid there naked on his workbench and figured out he was locking the front door and flipping the sign from 'open' to 'closed'.

I jumped when he opened the curtain. I had heard him cross his shop and knew he was approaching the curtain, but it still startled me when he entered the room. And for some strange reason, I didn't bother to cover my naked body. I had kept my hands laced together under my head. He brought with him a bottle of hand lotion. He left the curtain open and said, "Now we don't have to worry about being interrupted."

He smiled at me, set the lotion down near my left hip and went directly to another cabinet, from inside he withdrew a clean, folded towel. Walking to the side of the table where my head lay, he had me lift up and slipped the towel underneath as a makeshift pillow. I giggled and squirmed and thanked him.

Walking back between my wide spread thighs, he sat back down and asked, "Now where were we?" Without giving me a chance to respond, he leaned forward and blew his warm breath all over my caged penis, hairless pubic area and inner thighs.

I squealed and my hips bucked upward. Biting my lower lip hard, I said, "Um, you had asked. I mean, you wanted to know what position I fantasize about you making love to me in."

A warm, lust-filled smile formed on his face. "So you fantasize about ME making love to you?"

I blushed and tried to deny it. But he knew what he had heard. And quite honestly, he was exactly the type of man I'd always dreamed of being with, tall, strong, confident and a little bit paternal.

After that somewhat awkward situation passed, he grinned down at me while laying his hands on my body once again. This time dragging his fingertips down my sides and tickling me. I giggled and squirmed. And when I reached down with my hands, he told me to keep them behind my head in a stern tone. He then tickled my armpits, down my sides, across my hips and down my thighs. I was giggling and laughing and thrashing about and begging him to stop.

When I thought I could take no more, he squirted a big glob of lotion onto the fingers of one hand. Those fingers began to rub the lotion around and into my wrinkled hole. He wrapped his other large hand around my chastity cage which completely hid it from view. It looked like his fist was resting between my legs and I had no penis at all. Before long he was slowly finger-fucking me.

In that deep voice he began to prod me, "Sweetheart, tell me how you'd like me to make love to you. Face to face, missionary, like you're a girl? Doggie-style, with me holding your hips? Or maybe you'd like to be on top? Is that how you want it?"

With his finger thrusting in and out of my bottom and his other hand alternating between holding my caged penis, pinching my nipples and tickling all over my body, I was in a horny frenzy. In a loud squeal I answered, "You on top! I want you on top! I want to be made love to like I was a girl!"

"That's my good boy." Still slowly thrusting his finger in and out of my bottom, he leaned down and blew his warm breath over my leaking, caged penis, thighs and pubic areas. My hips were bucking in time to his finger thrusts. He looked down at my hyper aroused body for several moments, watching me react to his actions. In a soft voice, he asked, "Sweetheart, have you ever been kissed by a man?"

I unconsciously licked my lips before whispering, "No. No I have not."

He reached out and helped me sit up on the table. My legs dangled freely from the edge. Mr. Harris stood up between my spread thighs, looked down into my eyes and slowly bent toward me. I tilted my head to the left, parted my lips and let my eyes drift closed. He had one arm wrapped around my midriff, the other was on the back of my neck. Just before our lips met, I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck.

The instant our lips touched, my world changed forever. Fireworks exploded in my mind and goosebumps popped up all over my body. I moaned into his mouth when his tongue slipped between my lips. My poor penis was still fighting to get stiff, but it wasn't going to happen. I squirmed in his arms trying to adjust myself to allow more room in the cage. It was useless.

He kissed me with passion, desire and lust. I'd never felt so horny or desirable before. We'd been kissing for several moments before the scent of his aftershave filled my senses. I knew the smell. It was Old Spice, the same scent my grandpa always wore. The stubble on his face scratched my smooth lips and chin. I'd never been able to grow anything more than peach fuzz on my face. I hadn't shaved in months due to my girlfriend practicing with her laser. She often told me I had a babyface, and with my lack of facial hair, it made the statement all the more true.

Our lips smacked after his tongue had retreated into his own mouth, he then kissed me gently several more times. I never let my arms fall from around his neck. I gasped for breath before looking up into his eyes. I uttered, "Oh my God. That was crazy."

With our noses still touching he whispered, "No Sweetheart, it wasn't crazy. It was perfect. You are finally learning who you really are. You were made to be with a man. Be honest, did you ever feel this way with your girlfriend, or any other girl for that matter?"

I slowly shook my head from side to side, letting my lips drag across his. He whispered, "It's because you need a man to treat you as if you were the girl. You were born to flirt. Look at you, you've been driving me crazy since you walked into my shop. You were so bashful and embarrassed. I honestly wanted to kiss you the moment our eyes met for the first time."