I never thought I’d be the kind of guy to wear a chastity cage. But then again, I never thought I’d end up with someone like Mia. From the moment we got serious, she made it clear she liked her men submissive—and she loved taking charge.
The first time she locked me up, I was nervous and a little embarrassed, but the thrill in her eyes made it impossible to say no. The tiny steel cage clicked shut, and she palmed the key like it was nothing.
“That’s where it belongs,” she said with a smirk, giving my now-caged bulge a playful tap. “And from now on, everyone’s going to know what a good little boy you are for me.”
At first, I thought she was joking. But Mia had a way of turning her fantasies into reality.
She started small, having me strip down in front of her in private, inspecting the cage and teasing me mercilessly about how pathetic and small I looked locked up. “You’re not even a real man like this, are you?” she whispered one night, grinding herself against my thigh as I whimpered in frustration.
Then she escalated.
One Friday night, we were hanging out with her girlfriends, and Mia suddenly said, “Show them.”
I froze.
“Show them your little situation,” she repeated, her voice sweet but commanding. The girls’ eyes lit up with curiosity, and before I knew it, I was standing there, my jeans unzipped, revealing the chastity cage beneath.
“Oh my God,” one of them giggled. “Is it… locked?”
“Of course it’s locked,” Mia purred. “He’s my good little pet. Aren’t you?”
I nodded, my cheeks burning. The mix of humiliation and arousal left me dizzy.
It didn’t stop there. She started introducing me to her male friends, casually mentioning I was “kept” and loved it. Some laughed awkwardly, others gave me knowing looks that made my stomach knot with shame and… something else.
Every time I thought I couldn’t be more humiliated, Mia found a new way to push me. At the gym, she whispered in my ear, “I bet no one knows you’re caged right now. I dare you to squat in front of them.” At parties, she’d drop hints in conversation: “He can’t even get hard for anyone but me—he’s locked up tight.”
And every time, despite the heat in my face and the pounding in my chest, I stayed obedient. Because it turned her on so much. And the truth was, it turned me on too.
The power dynamic, the exposure, the way her friends now saw me as hers—it all wrapped around me like the steel cage itself.
The first time Mia took it further, I thought I might actually die of embarrassment.
It started at her friend Casey’s housewarming party. The girls were all tipsy, lounging in the living room, and I thought I was safe—until Mia caught my wrist and pulled me close.
“Pet,” she purred in my ear, “why don’t you show them what makes you so… special?”
My stomach dropped. “Mia… here?”
“Yes, here. Don’t make me ask twice.”
The room went quiet. Every eye turned to me. My hands shook as I fumbled with my belt, unzipping my jeans to reveal the tight metal cage hugging me snugly.
“Oh my God,” Casey gasped. “It’s… tiny!”
“Well,” Mia laughed, “it’s not like he needs it for anything anymore. I’ve got the key, and he’s only allowed to please me. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, Mistress,” I muttered, my face hot as hell.
“You’ve trained him so well,” another friend giggled. “Can I touch it?”
I looked to Mia in shock, but she smirked. “Of course. He loves the attention.”
I stood there trembling as a pair of manicured fingers traced the metal bars. “Wow,” she teased, “you can’t even get hard in this, can you?”
“No,” I whispered.
“Say it louder,” Mia commanded.
“I can’t get hard unless Mistress unlocks me,” I said, my voice cracking.
The girls laughed, clinking their wine glasses. Mia was glowing, clearly getting wetter with every second of my humiliation.
But it didn’t stop there.
At the gym, Mia made me wear leggings—no underwear. “I want everyone to see that little cage print,” she whispered as I bent over to rack weights. I could feel eyes on me, hear snickers, and my cock twitched helplessly inside its steel prison.
Then came the night she invited her guy friends over for drinks.
“Boys,” Mia said casually, “ever seen a man in chastity?”
The laughter and teasing were brutal, but Mia thrived on it. “He’s so much happier like this. I don’t even let him touch himself. Not one stroke. Weeks now.”
“Seriously? Damn,” one of them said. “That’s cold. Can I see?”
“Go ahead,” Mia said with a shrug. “He’s used to it.”
I stood there, pants down, humiliated as male hands tapped at the metal, tugging playfully. “That’s insane. You’re locked up like a dog,” one said.
“And he loves it,” Mia added. “Don’t you, pet?”
“Yes, Mistress.”