Chapter 5
Chapter five
Atlas
I’d seen Miles every day for the last three days, and all the reasons we hadn’t gotten together in January were still relevant. So since nothing was going to happen with the guy I really wanted, what was a gay to do but take matters into their own hands?
Quite literally for the first two days, actually, but it was day three, and I was getting desperate. I needed to get dicked down and quick.
When I was looking for a good scene partner, maybe a boy to command and fuck—or, most commonly, command to fuck me—I used the Daddy’s Boy app. It never disappointed. But when I just needed a good railing, a simple hookup, I had another app I used.
That was the one I found myself tapping into tonight.
After swiping through duds for what was probably a full half hour, I finally found someone who sparked my interest. He appeared to be a big guy, covered in hair, and yeah, I could get down with that. He seemed like he could show me a good time and wreck my hole.
So I sent him a message.
He responded minutes later, and when I didn’t get any red or even pink flags from our chat, I set up a meet at a hotel half an hour from my house. No way was I showing him where I lived. I wasn’t born yesterday.
At first, everything was going swimmingly. The bear was sexy, he had a gorgeous dick, and he was into me with my makeup and femme clothing. And when he brought out a few items for us to play with, I barely batted an eye. I was no stranger to sexy toys, and I was down to try a lot of things.
Then he pulled out a metal cock cage.
Look, I’d been in a cage or two in my time. I even enjoyed them. They fit snugly, and I found it delightfully frustrating when I couldn’t get hard, ramping up my arousal tenfold. Although I was a Daddy, I did like to flirt with a little role reversal from time to time.
So when he pulled it out, I was down to try. I didn’t need my dick free to get fucked, after all. And besides, he’d shown me the key and the backup key he had for the built-in lock and everything.
The evening went downhill from there.
He fitted it on me, we’d started making out, he’d prepped my hole then slammed inside my ass, and when he could tell I was ramped up and ready to come, he pulled out the key and unlocked the cage.
Except that wasn’t what happened. Nope, the key ended up breaking off in the fucking lock.
And I freaked the fuck out. “Motherfucking shitballs!”
The well-endowed bear cursed and scrambled to pull out of me faster than a bat out of hell as I started screaming. The condom on his substantial cock started to hang limply as his dick shrunk until the rubber was barely hanging off the tip. The guy was a grower.
“Fuck! Get it off me!” I tugged and pulled at the cage, quickly realizing my error with a wince and a shout when it felt like I was trying to rip my own dick off. No way was I doing that again. “Goddammit!”
All the blood drained out of my poor partner’s face. “I can’t, baby, I’m so sorry! I don’t . . . I don’t know what to do! The key just fucking broke off!”
“Shit!” My breathing was coming way too fast now, and instead of leaning into logic—because somewhere, deep down, I knew this wasn’t the end of the world—I panicked for a solid five minutes, yelling and screaming pointlessly for him to get the thing off. But of course, that wasn’t helping anything.
“Deep breaths, baby,” the man offered in that low, rumbling voice that had turned me on only minutes ago, rubbing my back. And after I’d calmed a bit—at least enough that I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to hyperventilate—he sweetly asked, “Can I drive you to the emergency room or something?”
If I wasn’t so worked up, I would’ve nearly swooned at his consideration. But it was going to be embarrassing enough for me to go by myself, say nothing alongside a stranger. “No, thanks. You want to finish?”
His cheeks pinked over his beard as he yanked the stretched condom off his dick and tossed it into the trash can across from the bed. “No, unfortunately—this just killed the mood. Which sucks balls, because you’re hot as fuck. And your ass is heaven.”
I gave him a sad smile, patted his arm in a conciliatory move, then got dressed, bidding him goodnight and heading back to Gomillion.
At least my dick had stopped trying to get hard at this point.
Once home, I sighed and dropped to my davenport, wondering what the fuck I was going to do. Long-term chastity was not my thing. Though I knew it wouldn’t do any damage to keep it on until morning, I needed the fucking thing off of me as soon as possible.
I was so over this night, and I needed every trace of it gone.
A lightbulb went off, and I smacked myself on the forehead. Of course. In my panic, I’d forgotten the golden rule: When in doubt, google it.
I jumped on the internet and soon came up with a list of options.
Emergency room was high on the list, along with several people who suggested I could just “pull the cage apart”—which honestly hurt my nuts just thinking about it. No, thank you.
Nope, as humiliating as I was sure this would prove to be, I had to seek professional help. Maybe I was bound for the ER after all. Sigh.
Then, like the clouds parted and angels started singing, I found someone suggesting a locksmith. Then another person. Then another. And as I read, I started to get excited—this was sounding more and more like a viable option.
So I pulled up my handy task app, the one I’d booked my internet troubleshoot on, and put out a call for help.
I included a vague description of an urgent “locked-out situation of a sensitive nature” and prayed whoever showed up would be willing to work with me once I explained the problem.
I also stated in the comments of the request that I’d pay them for their time even if they weren’t comfortable helping me—and no shame if they weren’t—so hopefully that would be enough of an incentive for someone to come out tonight.
As the request posted, I considered my options in such a small town, wondering who would come out this late and the likelihood of that person not sharing this juicy gossip with everyone in town. Pretty much zero, I guessed. Wouldn’t that just be my luck?
But . . . huh. Miles had said he was the only handyman for, well, miles, but surely he wasn’t a locksmith, too, right?
Though maybe it would be better if he was? I wasn’t sure.
Either way, I was desperate. At this point, I’d do whatever it took to get this thing off of me for good.
***
The knock came twenty minutes later, and I flew to the door with my silk kimono flying like a flag behind me despite knowing who was standing outside it and why they were here.
It was already late, so when the app had dinged stating my task was being fulfilled ASAP, I nearly wept. Then I’d noticed that Miles would, in fact, be one answering the request, and my cheeks heated though no one was around to witness my mortification.
I hoped he wouldn’t be offended by the cage or what I was asking him to do. He may have been closeted, but I doubted a gay man would be unaware of such things. And though this was sure to be awkward—I had no doubt of that—at least we had a bit of rapport, right?
Fingers crossed.
I retied the robe closed when I got to my door, trying to catch my breath.
When I flung it open, breathing hard from the situation and my sprint across my house, Miles was standing there with a black canvas bag in one hand and the other shoved into the pocket of his jeans.
My cheeks were instantly red again as I stepped aside and invited him in.
I shut the door behind him then turned to face the music. He was eyeing me closely, one eyebrow raised and lips twitching like he was fighting back a laugh. He couldn’t know what happened, right? But maybe he suspected?
Ugh. Fuck my life.
“Th—” My voice cracked because I needed to be even more humiliated, apparently, so I cleared my throat before continuing. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”
Miles’s lips did quirk up at that. “Seems you have a bit of a problem.”
I choked on nothing but air. Had he deduced my problem from my cryptic request? “Seems I do.”
I just stood there and stared at him, saying nothing, so after several long moments, Miles was the one to clear his throat. “Um, so what’s the”—he pulled up his phone, tapped a few times, then read off the screen—“‘locked-out situation of a sensitive nature’?”
My cheeks were surface-of-the-sun scalding at this point. “Um, right. So I . . . uh . . .”
What the fuck? I was Atlas Fucking St. James, goddammit, and I had nothing to be embarrassed about. I had a great body, I enjoyed sex, and these things happened. Not to me, but . . .
I sighed loudly, crossing my arms over my robed chest. “Look, I’m stuck in a cock cage, okay?”
Miles’s eyes shot wide before his face softened and he started fighting a smile. And mostly losing. “No judgment.” His eyes sparkled as one corner of his mouth turned up. “Um, I think I’ll need to get a look at it, if you don’t mind.”
With a huff, I reached for the belt of the pale-pink floral-print kimono I’d slipped on after my shower—no way was I going to have evidence of sex all over my nether regions when Miles was coming to take off the thing that was, you know, preventing me from coming.
With a fortifying deep breath, I slid the robe away from my front, tucking it behind my back—fuck, that silk felt amazing on my naked ass—and letting it hang from my shoulders.
Could I have had a shirt on under it? Sure.
But that would’ve made this seem almost clinical, and that felt almost more weird.
Miles swallowed hard when he got a good look at my mostly naked body. “Not the way I’d expected to get your clothes off for the first time,” he muttered under his breath, but I damn well heard him.