Locked and Waiting - 4: Build Up

Morning came slow and soft against the sheets, and the ache was already there before your eyes even opened. Heavy, constant, pressing against the cage like it had never let up. Your hand moved on instinct, reaching for your phone, thumb hovering over last night’s thread. No new messages yet. Just that last one, sitting there like it was waiting: I’ll hold you to that 😈.

It lingered in your mind, not a threat but a promise. You stayed there for a while, still half under the covers, the weight of the cage grounding you. The fabric of your thong barely muted the pressure, each breath a reminder. And with that a desire woke in you.

You didn’t hesitate. You moved with purpose. Slid the waistband down slowly, let the morning light catch the neon orange plastic, the way it gripped you so tight it almost pulsed. You took the photo, no caption or filter, just the picture; quiet and deliberate. You sent it, holding your breath for a moment.

Then, the typing bubble appeared.

“Didn’t think you’d last the morning.
You ready to be good for me today boy?”

And with that, the tone of the day was already set.

The message hit different. Your breath caught, heart thudding a little harder. You barely had time to reply before the next one came in.

“Show me more. Different angles, and take your time.”

It wasn’t rushed. It was confident and steady, like he already knew you’d do exactly what he asked. And he was right. You sat up slowly, letting the sheets slip down your legs, light spilling across your pale skin. There was something in the way he said it that made you want to take your time, to make it perfect for him.

You started with a side angle, the neon orange Nub cage pressed tight, barely a curve showing under the stretch of fabric. Then you pulled the waistband lower, revealing how snug it really was; how completely it held you, locked and aching. You gave him a top-down view next, one with the key in the shot for scale, sitting aside the small, sealed cage. Helpless. Contained. Exactly how he liked you.

Then you turned, let the camera catch the back of the thong riding high, the black stretch of fabric drawing a clean line across your skin. You knew what that image would do to him. You wanted it to. Each photo was a quiet submission, a wordless yes, a slow answer to everything he’d asked for the night before.

You sent them one by one, giving him space to respond. And each time the typing bubble returned, something in you pulled tighter.

His next reply took a little longer, and you could already feel the shift coming. Then an image, no words at first. Just him.

It was hard. Thick, heavy in his hand, hard in a way that made your mouth salivate. His cock was thick and heavy, fairly tan with just a touch of warmth beneath the surface. Veins traced steady paths along the smooth shaft, pulsing slowly with a controlled strength. The head was full and rounded, flushed a red that contrasted with the skin. His balls hung heavy and full, the skin slightly darker and softer than the rest, with a faint texture that caught the light just right. They rested low and relaxed, a perfect balance to the weight of what he carried above. Every subtle movement reminded you that they were part of the same quiet power, a tangible symbol of dominance and control that never needed to shout.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“You think you’re gonna stay locked after that?”
“When are you free?”

You could feel the cage tightening with every second. There was nowhere for you to go, nowhere for that pressure to escape. Just tension, building slow and steady, burning under your skin. You started typing a few different answers. Erased them. Tried again.

You wanted to say now.

Instead, you typed out a quick excuse:

“Got to head out with my family soon, but maybe later?”

It wasn’t a full yes, but it was honest enough to keep the conversation alive. And the way the typing bubble popped up almost immediately told you he was already thinking about how to make sure later actually happened.

After a few minutes, his message popped up again. This time it was a little bolder.

“Where are you staying today? Just curious.”

You hesitated for a second. You could easily ignore it, pretend you didn’t see. But something about the way he asked made it hard to resist. You didn’t want to give too much away, but you also didn’t want to shut him down completely.

So before you grabbed your jacket and headed out, you shot back a quick reply:

“At the Lockwood Lodge. Just getting ready to head out with my family.”

It was simple and honest enough, but the moment you hit send, a rush of excitement flooded through you like you’d just crossed a line you weren’t sure you were ready for. At the same time, a nervous flutter settled in your stomach, reminding you how much this all meant. You put your phone down for a moment and took a deep breath, feeling the buzz of anticipation mixed with that familiar edge of nerves under your skin. The day was just starting, but you already knew this conversation wasn’t anywhere near over.

The Day Out…

Getting a text from your mom saying you needed to head out quickly, you closed your phone and got ready. You were heading out from the lodge, a trip to the little shops nearby with your mom, dad, and sister. Totally normal. At least, it looked normal. You were layered up for the cold, but under your jeans, the cage was snug and unrelenting. Every step, every shift in the car seat was a reminder of what you were wearing… and what you weren’t allowed to do. No one in the car had any clue, of course. You just kept your expression neutral and acted like everything was fine, even though that low, constant pressure was already messing with your head.

After costing a few store with little to no notable purchases you walked into this cozy little gift shop near the base of the mountain. Wooden shelves, touristy mugs, that kind of thing. You tried to pay attention, act present, nod at whatever random thing someone pointed out. But then your phone buzzed in your pocket. Once. Then again, fast. You didn’t check it right away, but you knew what it was. When you finally pulled it out, low and discreet, you felt your stomach flip.

The first message hit hard: “Can’t stop thinking about you in that cage. Bet it’s tight today.” And right after that, a pic—blatant, hard, no shame. He knew exactly what he was doing.

You glanced around, your heart suddenly racing. No one noticed. Your mom was looking at candles. Your sister was debating over some stupid snow globe. You should’ve put the phone away, but another message came through: “Wish I could see your face right now. Bet you’re squirming in public, aren’t you?”

You were. The cage felt tighter now somehow, like it knew you were being teased. Every movement made it worse. And the fact that you were surrounded by your family, pretending everything was normal while your phone was filling up with messages like that, it made the whole thing feel even more intense. You typed back quickly, hands a little shaky.

“You’re evil. I can’t even think straight right now. I’m with my family out shopping and am leaking in my cage now 😖”

Sent it. Slipped the phone back in your pocket. And just stood there for a second, breathing slow, trying to pull yourself back to reality. But you already knew you weren’t coming down from this anytime soon.

You tried to shake it off, to focus on the shelves in front of you and pretend your whole body wasn’t buzzing, but it was useless. The cage was throbbing with every step, and every glance at your phone only made it worse. A new message popped up: “Oh I knew you’d be leaking already. Show me. Go find a spot. I want to see how desperate you are.”

You stared at it for a second, jaw tight. Part of you wanted to ignore him. You were with your family, for god’s sake. But another part loved how risky it felt. The way he knew exactly how to push. How to make you feel exposed even in a room full of people who had no clue.

You shot back a weak protest: “There’s nowhere to go. I’m not doing that here.”

His reply came fast. “Yes, you are. Bathroom. Now. Just one pic. I need to see how locked up you still are.”

Your pulse spiked. You glanced around—the restroom was down a narrow hallway near the back of the shop, just past the clearance rack. You waited for a moment when no one was looking, mumbled something about needing to use the bathroom, and slipped away as casually as you could manage.

The gift shop bathroom was cramped and plain, but mercifully empty. You locked the door behind you and leaned against it for a second, breathing hard. This was insane. You told yourself you’d just look, maybe tease him a little. But your hands were already at your waistband, unbuttoning, easing your jeans down just enough to reveal the bright flash of the cage, snug and unforgiving.

Your phone buzzed again. “Come on. Let me see you. Just one pic.”

You didn’t overthink it. You angled the camera down, focusing on the small, helpless shape trapped inside the cage; the desperate, flushed tip barely pressing against the plastic, trying and failing to escape its tight prison. The way it looked so vulnerable, restrained and powerless, made your breath catch. You snapped the photo and stared at it for a second before hitting send.

“You’re going to pay for this,” you typed after, fingers still trembling. But the truth was, you weren’t even mad. You were turned on, flustered, and way too far gone to stop now.

Just as you were about to tuck your phone away, the bathroom door creaked open, and your mom’s voice called softly from the other side. “Hey, are you okay in there? We’re heading back soon.”

You swallowed the flush rising in your cheeks and hurried to button your jeans back up, locking the door behind you. The cage felt impossibly tight now, the reminder of what you’d just done pulsing with every breath. You slipped your phone back into your pocket, heart still racing, and made your way back to the main shop.

Your mom was waiting near the exit, a gentle smile on her face but a subtle urgency in her tone. “Come on, we need to get back to the room. The others are already settled.”

You nodded, letting her pull you gently away from the shop and toward the car. The ride back was quiet, your family chattering softly about nothing in particular, just conversation that fills up empty afternoons.

Once inside the room, the rest of the day stretched ahead, predictable and dull: unexciting family movies on a loop, board games that no one really wanted to play, and the low hum of background chatter. You sat there, the cage pressing against you with every shift in your seat, a constant, delicious secret that made the monotony somehow feel a little more alive. And your phone buzzing away without the chance to answer..