Chapter 3
Coach reached into one of the bottom drawers of his desk and pulled out a tube of lube.
“It’s a little old,” he said, “but it should still work okay.” He squirted some on his finger, sniffed it, then nodded approvingly.
Alfie was feeling pretty approving himself.
Anything that involved lube, he expected to like.
Then Coach rummaged around some more and came out with a piece of metal shaped unlike anything Alfie had ever seen.
Definitely not a dildo—why would Coach have a dildo in his drawer?
—but not completely unlike a dildo either.
It was longer than a typical sex toy and more aggressively curved, with a heavy ball on one end and a somewhat smaller ball on the other.
Not shaped like a dick but shaped like something that might be going up your ass.
Coach coated the larger ball with lube, which further suggested where it might be going, then patted his lap much like he had earlier except now he was holding a sex toy.
Was Coach going to get him off? It was a little weird but wholly hot, so Alfie draped himself back over the lap he’d so recently left.
His ass still smarted, so he jumped when Coach put a hand on it, but it was only for the purpose of separating his cheeks so he could nudge the ball up against his sphincter.
His sphincter resisted. The ball was thoroughly ball-shaped, and Alfie hadn’t been stretched at all, but Coach kept rocking the wand until the ball popped through and then it was smooth sailing from there.
The rest of the wand wasn’t very thick—not what Alfie would want from a cock, that was for sure—and the stainless steel made it slide easily up his channel, though Coach didn’t slide it up very far, only until the ball pressed against Alfie’s prostate.
Alfie hissed out an excited breath. The ball was heavy, firm, and wedged tight against his pleasure button, which sent skittery happy feelings all through his body.
Coach started rocking the wand, causing the ball to rub over his prostate in a way that was perhaps a touch too aggressive.
Alfie would be enjoying the sensation if someone were touching his cock, but Coach wasn’t touching it and Alfie didn’t feel as if he knew Coach well enough—their current intimate situation aside—to touch it himself.
He tensed, wanting to ask Coach to stop massaging his prostate quite so hard, but Coach just kept increasing the pressure.
For a moment, Alfie thought he might be able to come like this. That he was, in fact, already coming, but the sensation was closer to pain than pleasure, and instead of sharpening, it lengthened, growing more and more unbearable. Something was bursting inside him, but not in a good way.
“Coach,” he complained in a voice that was disappointingly whiny.
“Shit,” Coach said in response. “I didn’t think this through.”
Alfie heaved a sigh of relief. Coach had understood that something wasn’t right and was going to fix it.
He didn’t take the wand out of Alfie’s ass, but he did stop moving it.
Then he half picked Alfie up and steered his torso around until Alfie’s chest was supported by his desk and said, “Don’t move. ”
Then he left the room.
Alfie’s pants were around his ankles and his naked ass was sticking straight out behind him with a wand sticking out of it. It was a humiliating position that grew more humiliating as one long second after another ticked by until Coach finally came back carrying a towel.
“That jock isn’t going to contain everything, and I don’t want it on my pants,” he said as he took his seat again. He spread the towel over his lap and steered Alfie on top of it. “Now, where were we?”
“You were making me come?”
Coach laughed. “Just keep thinking that.”
He started in with the wand again, no different from what he’d been doing before, grinding it over and over into Alfie’s prostate until Alfie couldn’t help whimpering.
“It doesn’t feel good.”
“It’s not supposed to feel good. I told you not to perv on my men, but I understand that you can’t help yourself, so I’m going to help you. This is called milking. Gets the come out of you without you coming, so to speak.”
“But—”
But he wanted to come. And he didn’t understand how the come was going to get out of him without him coming.
Then the first drop leaked from his tip and he did.
Coach was forcing semen out of his balls, bit by agonizing bit, and the only thing Alfie could feel was how over-stimulated his prostate was and the gradual softening of his cock, as if it were giving up.
“There you go,” Coach said as Alfie continued to leak. “Won’t be able to jerk off now, will you? Not if I get you nice and empty.”
Empty was the right word for it. Horniness drained out of him in painful, unsatisfying drops without any force or sense of completion.
He couldn’t even pinpoint the moment at which the last drop fell.
Without an explosion or a sudden sense of ecstasy, there was nothing to define it.
All he knew was that Coach eventually pulled the wand out of his ass with a painful pop and handed it to him.
“Go wash that up, then get back in here.”
Alfie stood, dazed and exhausted. He reached for his pants, but Coach stopped him.
“Nah, I still need those down. Just waddle on out there. It’s not like you’ve got a lot of grace at the best of times.”
Alfie waddled to the bathroom sinks and cleaned the tool as fast as possible.
The team had left long ago, but what if someone had forgotten something and came back for it?
And what was Coach going to do to him next?
He hadn’t minded the spanking so much, at least not once it was over, but milking was awful.
He never would have agreed to it if he’d known.
When he got back to the office, Coach was looking at something on his computer, as if he had more important things to do than deal with Alfie, who was standing there with his pants down holding a sex toy.
But he eventually turned around and took the wand from Alfie and leaned down to put it back in his drawer.
When he straightened, he had a different piece of metal in his hand, this one shaped like a cock.
A soft cock. A soft, small cock made of metal bars.
“What’s that?” Alfie asked, extremely concerned because he already knew what it was.
“A cage for your dick. That milking should hold you for a while, but I know how you young guys are. Doesn’t take long to fill back up, does it? Pull your jock down for me so I can get this on.”
Alfie shook his head.
“Alfie,” Coach said sternly. “Don’t make me put you back over my knee, okay? It’s been a long day for both of us. Once I lock you up, you can finish your work here and head home.”
“For how long?”
“How long for the cage? For as long as you need help keeping your hands away from your dick when you think about my players.”
So, like, forever. But Coach didn’t need to know that.
Alfie had made a terrible mistake getting caught, but he’d learned his lesson.
Tomorrow he would report having zero dirty thoughts about the team.
Coach would feel good that he’d improved Alfie as a person, and Alfie could get on with his nightly jerk-off sessions.
Alfie’s jock bore a big wet spot where he’d leaked through it onto the towel across Coach’s lap earlier, and he figured it might be more comfortable to get rid of it completely and go commando, so he pulled off all his clothes and set them on top of the towel so they wouldn’t get Coach’s desk dirty.
Coach reached forward and grabbed his junk—not in a kind way either—and wrestled it into the cage with a minimum of finesse and a fair amount of cursing.
“Been a while since I operated one of these.”
Alfie squeaked when his balls got pinched by the retaining ring—causing Coach to give him a look like he was being difficult on purpose—before all his parts ended up in the right place with the unit snapped shut.
Coach clicked a tiny padlock through the ring holding the contraption together and sat back to survey the results with a satisfied nod.
“Much better. Should’ve locked you up the day I gave you the job. I had a feeling about you, Alfie. Like I said, I’ve seen your kind before. You were looking to get with those guys, weren’t you?”
Alfie nodded. It probably wasn’t uncommon for jock-obsessed bottoms like him to apply for this position. He wondered how many equipment managers had worn this cage before him.
“Well, maybe we can get you some action,” Coach said with a grin Alfie didn’t understand. “As long as you remember the golden rule.” He paused, waiting for Alfie to say something.
Alfie searched his brain for the golden rule. “Serve, not perv?”
“That’s my boy. Now, along those lines, it’s time for you to demonstrate some gratitude.”
Gratitude? For spanking him and milking him and locking his cock in a cage? What the hell kind of gratitude did Coach expect? When Coach reached for his belt buckle, Alfie saw what kind of gratitude he expected.
“That was a lot of trouble you just put me to,” he said as he undid his fly and pulled out his cock, which was already hard, telling Alfie that Coach had enjoyed the supposed trouble. “So show me how much you appreciate it.”
If Alfie was really going to show Coach how much he appreciated being spanked and milked and caged, he would take a bite out of Coach’s cock, but he didn’t want to get himself in any more trouble, and besides, Coach had a sweet cock.
Thick and cut and not badly manscaped. A few swallows of Coach’s come would compensate him for how much come he’d lost himself and give him a nice memory to jerk off to.
So he got down on his knees between Coach’s legs and swallowed Coach’s cock.
Coach wasn’t very considerate about the way he took a blowjob, which didn’t surprise Alfie. He started thrusting almost immediately, and it wasn’t long before he was full-on choking Alfie with his good-sized cock that seemed to keep getting bigger.
Alfie liked giving blowjobs. He always got hard and usually took care of himself while he was taking care of the other guy, but today he didn’t have that option.
As his limp dick continued to be limp, he started to fully comprehend the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to jerk off to this memory.
He was here in a purely service role with no thought given to his pleasure whatsoever.
In fact with negative thought given to his pleasure, with his pleasure being actively disallowed.
He started to cry, but his tears and the lack of arousal somehow made him even more eager to make Coach come, as if Coach’s pleasure had taken the place of his own. This was the best he could do. Serve, not perv.
Coach came with a single, unimpressed grunt, holding Alfie’s head down on his cock until Alfie grew dizzy. Then he pulled his cock out of Alfie’s mouth, used a clean corner of the towel to wipe Alfie’s spit off it, and tucked it back in his pants.
Alfie put his own pants back on, not sure whether he should leave or what. Coach had already shifted his focus to his computer.
“Um, okay. Bye, I guess.”
“Take that towel with you,” Coach said without turning around. “And check in with me when you come in tomorrow.”
“Yes, Coach,” Alfie agreed eagerly. He couldn’t wait to get this cage off so he could make use of all the hotness that had happened today. He would never jerk off to the memory of being milked—never, ever—but the rest of it? Holy hell, yes.