Whatever It Takes Pt. 01: Trust - Sex Stories

Whatever It Takes Pt. 01: Trust

... took the steel meshed cage, lined it up, and slid it over my cock. She lined it up carefully, turned the key and stepped back.

'What is this?' I asked.

'Trust,' she said. 'You wear this until I can trust you.' She threaded the key through her silver chain. 'No fucking, no wanking, not without my say so, not without this.' She wrapped the chain around her neck, the key hanging pendulously between her breasts where she teased it with the length of her finger. My cock began to swell, the sense of it tight, constricted, maddening. She looked down to the cage, scooped a dribble of precum and, before I could think to protest, she pressed her finger between my lips, salty, bitter, but turning too soon to sweet.

'Suck,' she said, and I did. 'You'll get used to it,' she said, and moved back towards the bedroom.

'How long?' I asked. She turned, looked at me with something akin to disgust, sneered, and then left me naked and shivering against the cold.

That night she allowed me to return to her bed. I slid open my bedside draw looking for my pyjamas.

'No,' she said, 'For now, you sleep naked.' I swung in beside her. 'Just so I can be sure that you're not playing with that tiny dicklet.'

I blinked. This was quite unlike Sarah. I blinked harder and my cock twitched within the confines of the cage, rearing up before shrinking back.

She stepped into the bathroom, locked the door, and I listened to her flush the toilet, run the tap, clatter the medicine cabinet. She ...

... emerged wearing a black slip, the cut running the edge of her thigh teasing all that lay beneath. Her breasts bulged against the silk straps threatening to overspill but not quite.

She climbed into bed beside me leaving space between her hip and mine. She turned on her side and towards me.

'Show me,' she said.

I pulled away the covers and she took the steel cage, turning it between her slender fingers. She was still wearing her wedding ring. I noticed that. I also noticed the way in which my cock looked ridiculous and tiny against her hand.

'Why I wasted so many years on this pathetic dicklet is quite beyond me,' she said.

She rolled away from me for a moment and rummage in her bedside cabinet. She turned back holding it out towards me, thick, heavy, intimating: a fake cock, pale rubber flesh, impossibly huge, 8 inches, maybe 9. She held it out towards me, gripping the base with her right hand. She reached out with her left hand and stroked down from the crown to the base, pausing to cup at the balls. She repeated the action once and then twice.

'Too dry,' she said, holding the cock out towards me.

I blinked, like a fucking idiot.

'I said it is too dry,' she held the cock out, the shaft pointing towards my face.

'Seriously?' I asked.

'Whatever it takes,' she reminded me.

I understood, I wanted to fix things, and so I allowed her to touch the rubber phallus to my lips. She slapped it once, twice, three times against my mouth, the weight of it ...