Got bored last night while currently being locked in chastity and wrote an erotic story.

Tbh, I’m currently locked in chastity and have been for a few days now while waiting for a smaller cage that I recently ordered and last night I couldn’t sleep because I’m horny af. Enjoy.

**"The Keyholder's Captive"**

Ethan squirmed against the silk restraints, his wrists bound to the ornate bedposts. The cool metal of the chastity cage felt foreign against his skin, a cruel contrast to the heat building between his legs.

"You look so pretty like this," murmured Lillian, her painted nails tracing the outline of the cage. His breath hitched as she flicked the tiny lock, sealing his fate.

"But—I’ve never—"

"Shhh," she whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. "That’s why it’s fun."

Her hand slid down his stomach, teasing just above where he ached the most. Ethan arched his back, desperate for friction, but the cage denied him. A whimper escaped his throat.

Lillian smirked. "Such a good boy, learning patience." She straddled him, her warmth pressing against his trapped length, and his hips bucked uselessly.

"You’ll stay like this until I say otherwise," she purred, grinding slowly. "And trust me… you’ll beg before I let you out."

Ethan groaned, already realizing—this was going to be a very long night.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 2**

Ethan’s breath came in shallow gasps as the new figure stepped into the dim light—tall, broad-shouldered, with a smirk that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Lillian had to leave," the man said, his voice deep and smooth. "But don’t worry. I’ll take *very* good care of you."

Ethan tugged at the silk restraints, his pulse quickening as the stranger’s fingers replaced Lillian’s on the chastity cage. The touch was firmer, more deliberate, sending an unexpected thrill through him.

"You’ve never been locked up before, have you?" the man murmured, giving the cage a light tap that made Ethan whimper. "Such a shame. You look perfect like this."

Ethan swallowed hard, his cheeks burning. "I—I don’t even know your name."

The man leaned in, his lips brushing Ethan’s ear. "Call me *Sir* for now." His hand trailed down Ethan’s chest, pausing just above the cage. "And don’t worry about names. Worry about how long you’re going to stay like this."

Ethan’s hips jerked instinctively, but the cage held firm. A low chuckle rumbled in the man’s chest as he pressed his weight down, pinning Ethan beneath him.

"Already trying to rut against me?" He clicked his tongue. "You’ll learn." His fingers traced the outline of the cage, slow and possessive. "And by the time I’m done with you, you’ll *thank* me for keeping you locked."

Ethan’s breath hitched—part fear, part desperate arousal. He was completely at this man’s mercy.

And somehow… he didn’t want it any other way.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 3: Bound and Dripping**

Ethan’s wrists strained against the padded cuffs as *Sir* tightened the restraints, securing him spread-eagle to the bed. A blindfold slipped over his eyes, plunging him into darkness—every touch, every whisper, now magnified.

"You’re already leaking," Sir murmured, dragging a fingertip along the base of Ethan’s cage, collecting the glistening pre-come that beaded at the edges. "Pathetic. And we’ve barely started."

Ethan whimpered as something cold and slick pressed against his entrance—a vibrating plug, humming to life before it even breached him.

"*Fuck—!*" His back arched off the bed, but Sir’s strong hand pinned his hips down.

"Stay still." The command brooked no argument. The plug twisted slowly, teasing, before sinking deep inside him. The vibration intensified, sending shocks of pleasure through his trapped cock.

Ethan gasped, his thighs trembling. The cage felt like a cruel joke now, his erection straining uselessly against the metal as the plug worked him open.

Sir leaned in, his breath hot against Ethan’s ear. "You’re going to stay like this—bound, plugged, and *denied*—until I’m satisfied." His thumb circled the weeping tip of Ethan’s caged length. "And trust me… you’ll be *dripping* by then."

Ethan moaned, his body caught between pleasure and torment. He was completely at Sir’s mercy—and the worst part?

He *loved* it.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 4: The Lesson**

Ethan's body trembled as *Sir* circled the bed, his gaze dark with amusement. The cage felt heavier now, a constant, aching reminder of his helplessness.

"You're fighting it," Sir murmured, running a thumb along Ethan's lower lip. "Your body wants to resist, but your eyes..." He leaned closer, his breath hot against Ethan's ear. "*Your eyes give you away.*"

Ethan whimpered as Sir's knee pressed between his thighs, applying just enough pressure to make the cage dig into his skin. The pain was sharp, intoxicating—mixed with something deeper, something that made his stomach tighten.

"Tell me," Sir commanded, his fingers tightening in Ethan's hair. "Do you want me to let you out?"

Ethan hesitated, biting his lip. The denial was *excruciating*—but the thought of being freed now, of losing this dizzying control, felt... wrong.

Sir chuckled, reading his silence. "That's what I thought." His free hand trailed down Ethan's chest, nails scraping lightly over sensitive skin. "You don't *want* to be let out. You want to be *good* for me."

Ethan's breath hitched. He *did*.

Sir smirked, sensing his surrender. "Then prove it." With a slow, deliberate movement, he straddled Ethan's hips, grinding down against the cage. The pressure was maddening—Ethan could feel every ridge of the metal, every impossible throb of denied pleasure.

"*Please*—" Ethan gasped, arching beneath him.

"Please what?" Sir's voice was a velvet threat.

Ethan's mind was fogged with need, but the answer came out in a whisper.

"Please... keep me locked."

Sir's grin was triumphant. "Good boy."

And as his hands slid lower, teasing, tormenting, Ethan realized—this was only the beginning.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 5. 1: Dripping Denial**

The room was thick with the scent of musk and restraint, the only sound Ethan’s ragged breathing as *Sir* traced the outline of the cage with a single fingertip. A slick bead of precum glistened at the tip, betraying his desperation.

"Oh?" Sir’s voice dripped with amusement as he swiped the droplet away, holding it up for Ethan to see. "Look at that. *Leaking* already, and I’ve barely touched you." He smeared the wetness across Ethan’s lower lip, chuckling as the younger man instinctively licked it away. "Pathetic. And so *delicious*."

Ethan whined, his hips twitching up into nothing, the cage denying him even the barest friction. Sir’s hand pressed down on his abdomen, holding him still with infuriating ease.

"None of that," he chided, his other hand trailing lower, cupping Ethan’s trapped length just to feel the heat radiating through the metal. "You’re *mine* to tease. Mine to deny." His thumb pressed hard against the sensitive head through the bars, and Ethan *jolted*, a broken moan tearing from his throat.

"F-fuck—*please*—!"

"Please *what*?" Sir leaned in, his teeth grazing Ethan’s earlobe. "You want me to stop? Or do you want me to make it worse?"

Ethan’s mind was a haze of need and humiliation, his cock straining uselessly, another sticky pulse of precum wetting the inside of the cage. He hated this. He *loved* this.

Sir’s laugh was dark as he reached for the small bottle on the nightstand—*lube*, Ethan realized with a shudder. "Let’s see how much you can drip before you start begging in earnest."

And as slick fingers circled his rim, pressing *just* enough to make his entire body tense, Ethan knew—he wasn’t getting out of this cage anytime soon.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 5. 2: The Reward**

Ethan's submission hung thick in the air between them, his body pliant beneath Sir's commanding touch. The man studied him with a predator's patience, tracing the outline of the cage one last time before finally pulling away.

"Since you asked so nicely," Sir murmured, reaching into his pocket, "I think you've earned a reward."

Ethan's breath caught as something glinted in the low light—*another key*. Smaller, slimmer, attached to a thin silver chain. Sir dangled it just above Ethan's chest, letting the metal sway hypnotically.

"Do you know what this is?"

Ethan shook his head, pulse racing.

Sir leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of Ethan's ear as he whispered, "It's the key to your *next* cage."

A whimper escaped Ethan's throat. *There was more?*

Sir chuckled at his reaction, trailing the key down Ethan's body until it rested just above the locked steel. "This one was just a test. A taste." His fingers tightened possessively around the cage, making Ethan squirm. "But if you're going to be mine, you'll need something... *sturdier*."

Ethan's mind spun. The thought of being locked in something even more inescapable should have terrified him—but instead, his trapped length strained pathetically against the metal.

Sir smirked. "Look at you. You're *already* addicted." He pressed the new key into Ethan's palm, folding his fingers around it. "Keep this safe for me. Because soon..." His grip turned punishing, forcing a gasp from Ethan's lips. "*Soon, you'll beg me to use it.*"

And as Sir's mouth crashed down onto his, claiming him completely, Ethan realized—he already was.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 6: The Exchange**

Sir released Ethan's lips with a slow, satisfied bite, leaving him breathless. The weight of the new key burned in Ethan's palm—a promise of something even more inescapable.

"Now," Sir purred, plucking the key from Ethan's trembling fingers, "let's see how well you handle an *upgrade*."

With a click, the first cage fell away, leaving Ethan exposed. The cool air against his flushed skin made him shudder—but before he could savor the fleeting freedom, Sir's strong hands were already guiding something new into place.

Ethan gasped as cold steel encircled him—thicker, heavier, with an unforgiving internal curve that pressed relentlessly against his most sensitive spots. The *click* of the lock was deafening.

"Titanium," Sir murmured, admiring his handiwork. "Custom-fitted. No more squirming free in your sleep." His thumb pressed down on the intricate locking mechanism, making Ethan whine. "And this one has a *security screw*. Only I decide when it comes off."

Ethan's hips jerked instinctively, but the new cage allowed *nothing*—every desperate twitch only reminded him how thoroughly he was trapped.

Sir traced the outline of the device with dark amusement. "You feel that? The way it *holds* you?" He leaned in, his breath hot against Ethan's throat. "That's *ownership*."

Ethan moaned, torn between panic and dizzying arousal.

"Don't worry," Sir whispered, palming him through the steel. "I'll let you come eventually." A cruel smirk. "*Maybe.*"

And as Sir's lips found his again, Ethan realized—he wasn't just locked now.

He was *claimed*.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 7. 1: The Torment**

The titanium cage was *merciless*.

Ethan writhed on the bed, his body slick with sweat as Sir circled him like a satisfied predator. Every slight movement sent waves of frustrated pleasure through him—the smooth metal interior pressed against his trapped length, the security screw glinting tauntingly under the dim light.

But Sir wasn’t done.

A low, vibrating hum filled the room as Sir produced a sleek black remote. Ethan’s eyes widened.

"Oh, you didn’t think I’d leave you *empty*, did you?" Sir smirked, pressing a button.

A sudden, wicked buzz *inside* the cage made Ethan cry out. His back arched off the bed, his thighs trembling as the hidden vibrator came to life, teasing him with relentless pulses.

"Look at you," Sir murmured, dragging a finger through the slick pre-come already dripping from the cage’s openings. "Leaking like a *desperate little thing*." He held his glistening finger to Ethan’s lips. "Taste."

Ethan whimpered but obeyed, his tongue darting out to lick the salt-bitter proof of his own helpless arousal. The vibration intensified, and his hips jerked uselessly against the restraints.

"Please—*please*—"

Sir tilted his head. "Please what?"

Ethan’s mind was a haze of pleasure and denial. "I—I don’t know—"

"Then I’ll decide for you."

With a cruel flick of the remote, the vibrations *stopped*—leaving Ethan gasping, his cock throbbing against unyielding metal. Sir leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of Ethan’s ear.

"Next time you beg, you’d better know *exactly* what you’re asking for."

And as the vibrations started again—*harder, faster*—Ethan realized with dizzying clarity:

He was completely, *deliciously* ruined.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 7. 2: The Mark**

Sir's teeth grazed Ethan's collarbone as his fingers traced the outline of the titanium cage, each touch sending electric jolts of denial through Ethan's trapped body.

"Such a pretty thing," Sir mused, his free hand reaching for something on the bedside table. The glint of metal caught Ethan's eye—a slender steel rod, its tip glowing faintly from recent sterilization.

Ethan's breath hitched. "W-what's that?"

Sir's smile was all teeth. "A reminder."

The first press of the branding rod against Ethan's inner thigh came without warning. A sharp *hiss* escaped through clenched teeth as pain flared—followed by a wave of dizzying endorphins. When Sir pulled the rod away, an elegant cursive *M* remained in raised, angry flesh.

"*Mine*," Sir growled, licking the fresh mark as Ethan writhed beneath him.

The cage felt heavier now, the weight of ownership settling deep in Ethan's bones. Sir's fingers returned to the titanium prison, stroking with possessive precision.

"You'll wear this for a month first," he whispered. "Then we'll see about that security screw." His palm pressed down hard, making Ethan arch off the bed. "And if you're *very* good..."

The sudden vibration against steel stole Ethan's breath—Sir's other hand holding a sleek black remote.

"...I might let you ruin yourself in this cage before dawn."

Ethan's choked sob turned into a moan as the vibrations intensified, his world narrowing to unrelenting metal and Sir's dark, approving gaze.

The lesson was clear—his pleasure wasn't his own anymore.

And God help him, he *loved* it.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 8: The Ruin**

The vibrations pulsed through the titanium cage like a cruel heartbeat, each wave of stimulation just shy of enough to push Ethan over the edge. His back arched, sweat-slicked skin sticking to the silk sheets as Sir watched with predatory satisfaction.

"Look at you," Sir murmured, dragging the tip of the remote down Ethan's chest. "Desperate. *Delicious.*" He increased the intensity just slightly—enough to wring a broken whimper from Ethan's throat. "You'd spill in seconds if I let you, wouldn't you?"

Ethan nodded frantically, his fingers twisting in the restraints.

Sir's laugh was dark. "Pathetic." His free hand closed around the cage, squeezing just enough to make Ethan gasp. "But I did promise you a reward."

With a flick of his thumb, the vibrations jumped to their highest setting. Ethan's entire body tensed, his toes curling as pleasure crested—only for Sir to abruptly shut it off the *second* before release.

Ethan sobbed, thrashing against the sheets. "*Please—*"

"Please what?" Sir's voice was velvet-wrapped steel.

"Please let me—" Ethan's voice cracked. "*Let me come.*"

Sir considered him for a long moment, then leaned in, his lips brushing Ethan's ear.

"No."

The vibrations started again, slower this time, teasing. Sir's teeth nipped at Ethan's earlobe. "You'll take what I give you. And tonight?" He palmed the cage, watching Ethan writhe. "You get *nothing.*"

Ethan's moan was equal parts agony and surrender. The cage felt heavier than ever, his body strung tight with denied pleasure.

And as Sir settled beside him, one hand resting possessively on the titanium, Ethan realized with dizzying clarity—he was exactly where he was meant to be.

*Owned. Denied. His.*

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 9: The Collar**

The vibrations had stopped, leaving Ethan trembling in the aftershocks of denied pleasure. His skin was hypersensitive, every brush of silk against his body like fire. Sir watched him with dark amusement before reaching into the nightstand drawer.

The *click* of a leather strap made Ethan’s breath hitch.

"You’ve earned this," Sir said, lifting a sleek black collar into the dim light. The supple leather gleamed, its silver buckle engraved with the same ornate *M* now branded into Ethan’s thigh.

Ethan’s pulse pounded as Sir tilted his chin up. The collar settled around his throat with a weight that felt *right*, the lock clicking shut with finality.

"Now everyone will know," Sir murmured, running a thumb over the engraved plate at the front. His grip tightened, just shy of painful. "Say it."

Ethan’s voice was raw. "*I’m yours.*"

Sir rewarded him with a searing kiss, his free hand tracing the outline of the titanium cage. "Good boy." He pulled back just enough to meet Ethan’s gaze, his own burning with possession. "And tomorrow?"

His fingers tightened on the collar, forcing a gasp from Ethan’s lips.

"Tomorrow, we test how long you can *truly* last."

Ethan shuddered, the cage a constant, aching reminder—his pleasure belonged to Sir now.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 10: The Revelation**

The morning light filtered through the blinds, painting stripes of gold across Ethan’s marked skin. He stirred, the weight of the collar and cage still foreign yet intoxicating. Sir was already awake, dressed in tailored black, sipping coffee as he watched Ethan with a predator’s patience.

"Sleep well?" Sir’s voice was a low rumble, fingers toying with the remote in his pocket.

Ethan swallowed, the collar pressing just enough to remind him of its presence. "Y-yes, Sir."

A smirk. "Good. Because today, we begin your *real* training." He set the coffee aside and pulled something from his desk—a velvet box. Inside lay a delicate silver chain, its clasp a perfect match for the collar’s lock.

Ethan’s breath caught.

"This," Sir said, lifting the chain, "connects to your cage. A constant reminder, even when you’re dressed and pretending to be *normal*." He fastened it with practiced ease, the chain just tight enough to tug when Ethan moved.

Then, to Ethan’s shock, Sir unlocked the cuffs binding him to the bed.

"Stand."

Ethan obeyed, legs shaky. The chain swayed between his thighs, the collar snug around his throat. Sir circled him, admiring his handiwork before stopping behind him, lips brushing the shell of Ethan’s ear.

"From now on, every step you take, every breath you draw, you’ll feel this." His hand trailed down Ethan’s spine, making him shiver. "And tonight?"

The remote buzzed to life in his pocket—just for a second—enough to make Ethan gasp.

"Tonight, you’ll beg for the privilege of staying locked."

Ethan’s knees nearly buckled.

And for the first time, he *understood*—this wasn’t just play.

It was a new way of *living*.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 10: The Revelation**

The morning light filtered through the blinds, painting stripes of gold across Ethan’s marked skin. He stirred, the weight of the collar and cage still foreign yet intoxicating. Sir was already awake, dressed in tailored black, sipping coffee as he watched Ethan with a predator’s patience.

"Sleep well?" Sir’s voice was a low rumble, fingers toying with the remote in his pocket.

Ethan swallowed, the collar pressing just enough to remind him of its presence. "Y-yes, Sir."

A smirk. "Good. Because today, we begin your *real* training." He set the coffee aside and pulled something from his desk—a velvet box. Inside lay a delicate silver chain, its clasp a perfect match for the collar’s lock.

Ethan’s breath caught.

"This," Sir said, lifting the chain, "connects to your cage. A constant reminder, even when you’re dressed and pretending to be *normal*." He fastened it with practiced ease, the chain just tight enough to tug when Ethan moved.

Then, to Ethan’s shock, Sir unlocked the cuffs binding him to the bed.

"Stand."

Ethan obeyed, legs shaky. The chain swayed between his thighs, the collar snug around his throat. Sir circled him, admiring his handiwork before stopping behind him, lips brushing the shell of Ethan’s ear.

"From now on, every step you take, every breath you draw, you’ll feel this." His hand trailed down Ethan’s spine, making him shiver. "And tonight?"

The remote buzzed to life in his pocket—just for a second—enough to make Ethan gasp.

"Tonight, you’ll beg for the privilege of staying locked."

Ethan’s knees nearly buckled.

And for the first time, he *understood*—this wasn’t just play.

It was a new way of *living*.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 11: The Constant Reminder**

Ethan’s first steps were unsteady, the silver chain swaying between his thighs, each subtle movement sending a jolt of awareness through his trapped body. Sir watched with dark amusement as he reached into the drawer once more, producing a pair of sleek steel handcuffs—not the playful silk restraints of the night before, but heavy, *policeman’s* cuffs.

"Wrists together," Sir commanded, and Ethan obeyed without hesitation, his pulse fluttering as the cold metal snapped shut.

Sir attached a second, thinner chain from the cuffs to the front of Ethan’s collar, forcing his bound hands to hover just below his chin. The position was humiliating, *helpless*, and Ethan could already feel the slickness of pre-come beading at the tip of his caged length.

"Look at you," Sir murmured, dragging a finger along the underside of the titanium cage, collecting the moisture there. He held it up to Ethan’s lips. "*Taste.*"

Ethan’s tongue darted out, lapping at his own desperation as Sir’s eyes burned into him.

"Good boy." Sir’s hand slid behind Ethan’s neck, gripping tight as he guided him toward the full-length mirror in the corner. "Now *see* what you are."

Ethan’s breath caught. The man in the reflection was *wrecked*—collared, cuffed, leaking pathetically into polished steel. His cheeks flushed, but his caged length twitched against its confines.

Sir’s free hand found the remote again, thumb hovering over the controls. "You’ll stay like this all day. Bound. Denied." A cruel pause. "*Dripping.*"

The vibrations started low, a constant, torturous hum that had Ethan’s knees trembling. A fresh bead of pre-come welled up, slipping down the cage’s bars.

Sir smirked. "*Mine.*"

And as Ethan stared at his own ruined reflection, he knew—he’d never be free again.

Nor did he *want* to be.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 12: The Ritual**

The vibrations never stopped.

Not when Sir led Ethan to the kitchen, his cuffed hands making every movement clumsy. Not when he was forced to kneel on the cold tile, the chain between collar and cage pulling taut as Sir fed him bites of breakfast with deliberate slowness. And *certainly* not when Sir guided him back to the bedroom, where new implements waited on the dresser.

Ethan's breath hitched at the sight—a leather paddle, a coiled rope, and worst of all, a *plug*, its flared base stamped with the same ornate *M* that now marked his skin.

Sir noticed his stare. "Expecting something?" He trailed a finger down Ethan's spine, making him shiver. "This isn't for you. *Yet.*"

The vibrations intensified suddenly, wrenching a moan from Ethan's throat as fresh wetness slicked the inside of the cage. Sir hummed approvingly, collecting the evidence on his fingertips before smearing it across Ethan's parted lips.

"Clean yourself up."

Ethan obeyed, tongue darting out to lick the salty-sweet proof of his desperation. Above him, Sir unbuckled his belt with deliberate slowness.

"Today, you learn your place." The leather slid free with a whisper of promise. "First, you'll service me—*without* being allowed to rub against my leg like a needy pet."

The vibrations jumped higher.

"Then, if you're good?" Sir pressed the paddle against Ethan's flushed cheek. "Maybe I'll let you *kiss* your cage before bed."

Ethan whimpered, his entire body alight with denied pleasure.

Sir's smile was razor-sharp.

"Begin."

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 13: The Service**

Ethan's knees ached against the hardwood floor, his cuffed hands straining against their tether as Sir stood before him, belt undone, his arousal evident. The vibrations in the cage had settled into a relentless, teasing pulse—just enough to keep him on the edge, never enough to push him over.

"Open," Sir commanded, his fingers tangling in Ethan's hair.

Ethan obeyed, his lips parting as Sir guided himself forward. The taste of him was intoxicating—salt and musk and *power*—and Ethan moaned around him, his tongue working in slow, worshipful strokes.

Sir's grip tightened. "No hands. Just that pretty mouth."

Ethan shuddered, his own trapped length throbbing uselessly in its steel prison. Every bob of his head made the chain sway between his thighs, the collar pressing snugly against his throat. He could feel himself leaking, the slickness pooling at the tip of the cage, but he couldn't touch, couldn't *relieve*—

Sir's hips snapped forward, cutting off the thought with a choked gasp. "Look at you. *Fucking yourself* on nothing but air." His voice was rough, his control fraying. "Pathetic."

Ethan whimpered, his own need coiling tighter.

Then, without warning, Sir pulled away, leaving Ethan empty and desperate.

"Good boy," Sir murmured, thumb swiping across Ethan's swollen lips. "But we're not done."

He reached for the plug on the dresser, its cold metal gleaming in the light.

"Now, let's see how well you take *this*."

Ethan's breath hitched—his body torn between fear and *want*—as Sir pressed him forward, his world narrowing to the stretch, the ache, the *ownership* burning through every nerve.

And when Sir finally let him kiss the cage goodnight, Ethan did so with trembling devotion, his lips brushing steel in silent worship.

Because this was his life now.

And he *craved* every second of it.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 14: The Breaking Point**

The plug stretched Ethan deliciously, its flared base a constant reminder of Sir’s claim even as he was ordered to stand motionless in the corner, nose pressed to the wall. Hours had passed—or maybe minutes; time had dissolved into a haze of aching need. The vibrations in his cage had faded to a torturous, intermittent pulse, just enough to keep him teetering on the edge without relief.

Sir’s voice cut through the fog. *“Turn around.”*

Ethan obeyed, his thighs slick with a mix of sweat and pre-come, the chain between collar and cuffs clinking softly. Sir was seated in an armchair, legs spread, his gaze dark with hunger.

*“Come here.”*

Ethan stepped forward, his legs unsteady.

*“Kneel.”*

He sank down, the plug shifting inside him, making him gasp. Sir’s fingers traced the line of his jaw before gripping his chin, forcing his head up.

*“You’ve done so well,”* Sir murmured, thumb brushing over Ethan’s swollen lips. *“But I wonder… can you take one last test?”*

Ethan’s breath hitched.

Sir reached for the remote, his thumb hovering over the controls. *“I’m going to make you come in that cage.”*

A whimper escaped Ethan’s throat.

*“But here’s the catch,”* Sir continued, his voice a velvet threat. *“If you do… you’ll be locked in it for another month. No release. No relief.”*

Ethan’s eyes widened.

*“And if you *don’t*…”* Sir’s grip tightened. *“You’ll spend the night gagged, plugged, and cuffed to the bed, begging for a mercy I won’t give.”*

The vibrations surged to life without warning, ruthless and unrelenting. Ethan cried out, his back arching, his body torn between pleasure and punishment.

Sir watched, unyielding, as Ethan thrashed in his bonds—teetering on the edge of ruin.

*“Choose, pet.”*

But they both knew the truth.

There was no choice.

Only *surrender*.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 15: The Edge of Ruin**

The vibrations were merciless, wringing desperate whimpers from Ethan's throat as his body convulsed against the relentless stimulation. His cuffed hands strained against their tether, fingers clawing at empty air while the titanium cage pressed unforgivingly against his swollen, leaking flesh.

Sir watched with rapt attention, his fingers digging possessively into Ethan's shoulder. **"Look at you,"** he purred, **"dripping for me like a broken toy."** He increased the intensity just slightly—enough to make Ethan's hips jerk violently. **"You want to come so badly, don't you?"**

Ethan nodded frantically, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

**"Then *beg*,"** Sir demanded, his free hand wrapping around the cage and *squeezing*—just enough pain to make Ethan sob.

**"P-Please, Sir!"** Ethan gasped, his voice raw. **"Please let me—!"**

**"Let you what?"** Sir twisted the cage, forcing a broken cry from Ethan's lips. **"Say it."**

**"Let me *come*!"** Ethan writhed, his thighs trembling, his entire body strung tight as a bow. **"I-I can't—I need—!"**

Sir's smile was wicked. **"Oh, pet... you *will*."**

With a final, brutal surge of vibration, Ethan's vision whited out—his body seizing as he *ruined* himself in the cage, his release trapped and useless, spilling in hot pulses against unyielding steel.

Sir didn't stop the vibrations, forcing Ethan through every second of overstimulation until he was limp and shuddering, tears streaking his cheeks.

Only then did he lean in, licking a stripe up Ethan's throat before whispering:

**"Congratulations. You just earned yourself *another month* in this cage."**

Ethan's breath hitched—not in fear, but in *relief*.

Because deep down?

He'd *wanted* this.

And Sir knew it.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 16: The Aftermath**

Ethan lay boneless against the sheets, his body still twitching with aftershocks as Sir finally turned off the vibrations. The cage felt heavier now, slick and warm with his trapped release, a humiliating reminder of his surrender.

Sir ran a possessive hand down his chest, pausing to toy with the silver chain connecting collar to cuffs. **"You took your punishment so well,"** he murmured, unlocking the cuffs at last. Ethan’s arms fell limp at his sides, his wrists marked by the ghost of restraint.

But the relief was short-lived.

Sir reached for the bedside table, retrieving a slender silver key—the one for the security screw. Ethan’s breath hitched as Sir leaned in, his voice a dark promise.

**"Don’t think this means mercy."**

The key slid into the lock, but instead of removing the cage, Sir gave it a cruel *half-turn*, tightening it just enough to make Ethan gasp.

**"There,"** Sir purred. **"Now it’s *even* more permanent."**

Ethan whimpered, but his traitorous hips arched into the touch.

Sir smirked, dragging a fingernail along the overstimulated flesh beneath the cage. **"Rest, pet. Tomorrow..."** He pressed a kiss to the brand on Ethan’s thigh.

**"Tomorrow, we begin your *real* training."**

And as the lights dimmed, Ethan realized—this wasn’t the end.

It was only the beginning.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 17: The Training Begins**

Ethan awoke to the scent of leather and coffee, his body still heavy with exhaustion. The cage remained locked tight, the security screw now an inescapable reality. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, illuminating Sir standing at the foot of the bed, already dressed in fitted black slacks and a crisp button-down, his sleeves rolled to reveal strong forearms.

**"Up,"** Sir commanded, snapping his fingers.

Ethan scrambled to obey, wincing as the movement made the cage pull snug against his tender flesh.

Sir watched with amusement before tossing a bundle of fabric at him. **"Put these on."**

Ethan unfolded the clothes—a pair of tight gray sweatpants and a black collarless shirt. Thin. Soft. *Revealing.* The kind of outfit that would show the outline of his cage with every step.

**"S-sir—"**

**"No objections,"** Sir interrupted, stepping closer. **"You'll wear what I give you. And you'll wear it *proudly*."** His fingers traced the edge of the titanium cage through the fabric, making Ethan shudder. **"Because today, pet, we're going out."**

Ethan's stomach dropped. *Out?* Like this? With the cage *visible*?

Sir smirked, reading his panic. **"Don't worry. No one will notice."** A pause. **"Unless you *make* them notice."**

He fastened a slim leather leash to Ethan's collar and gave it a testing tug.

**"Now. Let's see if you can walk properly while denying yourself every *step* of the way."**

And as Sir led him toward the bedroom door, Ethan realized—this was no longer just about physical restraint.

It was about *shame*.

And God help him, he was *hardening* in the cage at the thought.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 18: The Public Humiliation**

The leash tugged lightly as Sir guided Ethan through the upscale boutique hotel lobby, his every step accentuated by the whisper-soft drag of sweatpants against sensitized flesh. The cage pressed mercilessly with each movement, its outline *just* subtle enough to avoid outright scandal—but Ethan swore the concierge’s eyes lingered too long at his waistline.

**“Eyes forward,”** Sir murmured, giving the leash a warning flick when Ethan’s steps faltered near a group of laughing women. One of them glanced over—*did she just smirk at the leash?*—and Ethan’s face burned as fresh wetness beaded at the cage’s tip.

Sir noticed. Of course he did.

**“Disgusting,”** he purred, steering them into a secluded elevator. The second the doors closed, his hand was on Ethan’s throat, thumb pressing into his fluttering pulse. **“You *like* being seen like this, don’t you? My desperate, leaking little toy?”**

The elevator *dinged*. A businessman stepped in, eyes immediately snapping to Sir’s grip on Ethan’s collar.

Ethan’s breath hitched—*he could see, he could definitely see*—but Sir didn’t let go.

**“P-p-please,”** Ethan whimpered, unsure if he was begging for mercy or more.

Sir’s lips brushed his ear as the businessman stared resolutely at the elevator numbers.

**“Too late. He knows.”**

The doors opened. Sir led him out, leaving the stranger with a memory he’d never forget.

And when they reached the hotel’s rooftop bar, Sir ordered two drinks—and a *straw* for Ethan.

**“Wouldn’t want you staining your pretty cage,”** he smirked, sliding the cocktail toward Ethan’s trembling hands.

The humiliation was *electric*.

And the cage?

*Dripping.*

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 19: The Game**

The rooftop bar was all glass and glittering city lights, the hum of conversation wrapping around them like a second leash. Sir swirled his whiskey, watching Ethan struggle to sip his drink through the straw without spilling. Every slight movement made the sweatpants cling, the outline of the cage *obscene* in the low light.

**"Tell me, pet,"** Sir murmured, kicking Ethan’s foot apart under the table—*wider*—**"how many people do you think have noticed?"**

Ethan’s throat tightened. The bartender? The couple at the next table? The waiter who kept *glancing*?

Sir’s shoe pressed between Ethan’s spread thighs, the tip nudging the cage with devastating precision. Ethan choked on his drink, liquid dripping down his chin.

**"Messy,"** Sir tsked, swiping the drop with his thumb before pressing it against Ethan’s lips. **"Clean up."**

Ethan’s tongue darted out obediently, his face burning.

Then—**"Sir?"**

A smooth voice interrupted them. Ethan looked up to see the smirking concierge from earlier holding out a hotel keycard. **"Your suite has been prepared."**

Sir took it with a knowing smile. **"Thank you. We’ll need… *supplements* to the minibar."**

The concierge’s gaze flicked to Ethan’s lap. **"Of course. The *special order* has already been delivered."**

Ethan’s stomach dropped. *Special order?*

Sir stood, tugging the leash until Ethan stumbled to his feet—and *oh God*, the cage rubbed just right with the movement, drawing another helpless bead of wetness.

**"Time to see what you’ve earned,"** Sir whispered, leading him toward the elevators.

The couple at the next table *definitely* stared this time.

And Ethan?

He *leaked* all the way to the penthouse.

**"The Keyholder's Captive" – Part 20: The Gift**

The penthouse doors swung open to reveal a tableau of horrors and delights—a St. Andrew’s cross stood near floor-to-ceiling windows, a padded bench with straps waited ominously in the center of the room, and on the bed lay a long, velvet box.

Sir pushed Ethan inside, the leash taut between them. **“You’ve been so good today,”** he murmured, his free hand tracing the sweat-damp outline of the cage through Ethan’s pants. **“So I got you a present.”**

The box clicked open.

Ethan’s breath stopped.

Inside lay a *harness*—thin black straps designed to wrap snugly around thighs and waist, with a gleaming O-ring positioned *exactly* where the cage’s tip would press.

**“This,”** Sir said, lifting it with reverence, **“will keep you *constantly* aware of your place.”**

Ethan’s fingers trembled as Sir stripped him, the cool air hitting his slick cage before the harness was buckled into place with military precision. The O-ring pressed *just so*, amplifying every brush of fabric, every shift of movement.

Sir stepped back to admire his work. **“Now. Let’s test it.”**

He pulled a slim remote from his pocket—*not the one for the cage*—and pressed a button.

The O-ring *vibrated*.

Ethan’s knees buckled. The stimulation wasn’t direct, wasn’t *enough*—just a maddening whisper against oversensitized flesh.

Sir caught him by the collar, forcing him upright. **“Ah-ah. You’ll take it.”** He guided Ethan toward the window, the city lights sprawling beneath them. **“And you’ll stand here, on display, while I decide if you’ve earned the *next* part of your gift.”**

Ethan whimpered, his reflection a lewd portrait of submission—cage gleaming, harness taut, O-ring humming.

Sir’s teeth grazed his shoulder.

**“Spoiler: You *haven’t*.”**

And as the vibrations continued, Ethan realized—

This wasn’t just a harness.

It was a *lifestyle*.