Hans slept fitfully. Having his cock trapped in the confines of the cage was bad enough during the day, but at night his natural tendency to become erect meant that he woke frequently, disturbed by great discomfort.
Barb had been increasing the length of time she kept Hans padlocked into the cage, but she didn’t trust him not to touch himself at night, and she was right. Hans didn’t trust her right back – she had neither earned his respect nor had his best interests at heart. She would be shot of him as soon as she’d turned him into a chastity slave; once she’d broken his spirit.
Hans intended to keep fighting back, to keep resisting until he could break free. He wanted to see Greta, to reassure himself that she was happy, or offer her the chance to leave with him. He didn’t know where they would go, as they had almost run out of fuel when they stumbled across the Sweet Treat Inn, but in his waking hours each night he tried to figure things out.
Every morning after breakfast Hans was released from his room and his cock cage to shower and shave his skin smooth. Starting to enjoy his silky, buffed state, he luxuriated in massaging moisturising lotion into his skin. It resulted in his tormented cock getting hard, but as Barb hadn’t installed cameras in the shower he usually got away with it. Today he wasn’t so lucky. Just as he was fisting his length, stroking his foreskin up and down, glorying in the intense sensations, he heard the clacking of Barb’s heels. Hans was forced to pinch the tip of his cock and think ugly twisted thoughts to make the rising sap recede and his erection wilt.
“Hurry up!” Barb’s voice, shrill but stern, certainly banished sexy thoughts from Hans’ head.
She hung around to lace his corset tightly and fit the cock cage and padlock, before she inserted another plug firlmly into Hans’ butt. He now wore three sizes bigger than at the start of his training.
Today Barb selected a parody of a maid’s outfit for Hans to wear – a frilled short skirt with netting underskirt flared out from his hips adorned with a white starched apron at the front. He wore fishnet stockings fastened to the suspender straps and Barb tucked 2 chicken fillets into each cup of his black satin corset. Hans could hardly see past them to the pointed toes of his patent high heels. Frills provided the finishing touches to his outfit – a frilled white organza collar at his throat and panties with frothy white frills.
Hans made his way slowly down the hall, hobbled as usual by ankle cuffs. He had mastered walking in heels, but he masked this new skill so he could look inside any doors which Barb left open. He wanted to locate Greta.
Barb brought him into a reception room furnished with sofas and chaise longues, then equipping him with a feather duster, spray polish and cloths, she left him with instructions to clean. Hans set about his task, but used his time to look for anything which might help implement an escape plan.
At intervals Barb returned. She made a routine of stopping him each time, pulling his panties down to operate a pump in the butt plug, which increased its girth. Hans never knew if she’d pump it up or deflate.
The swell within his anal canal made Hans ache and groan, tormenting him with sensations of stretch and fill. Soon he was panting and sweating, trying to dust and clean to Barb’s expectations while avoiding too many bend or stretch movements. He was throbbing as desire tried to build, but his caged manhood had no room to unfurl or harden. On the contrary it induced pain when stiffening began, any engorgement was agony.
Not for the first time Hans looked back fondly on his days with their previous Dom Theo, who was stern but loving. Punishments with Theo almost always resulted in pleasure. Disobedience might earn beatings or orgasm control, but there was always some kind of threesome at the end of it all, with sweet Greta as the bratty sub she was born to be.
Feeling lightheaded he daydreamed about spitroasting Greta between himself and Theo. It was so vivid he could hear her grunts and whoops of pleasure, the galactic whore … or could he hear her in reality? Scuttling to the door as quickly as his bonds allowed he pressed an ear to the gap. Yes, she was nearby, probably in the room across the corridor, he recognised her guttural grunts and gasps. At least Greta sounded as if she was enjoying her treatment at Barb’s hands, which was great consolation.
Hans stood at the door listening to Greta’s sex noises build to a crescendo. When a gasping, groaning climax was wrung out of her, his cock tried to twitch in sympathy, only making him moan miserably. He shuffled quickly away from the door, returning to dusting & polishing the room’s surfaces. Hans had already spotted the concealed cameras in this room, but figured Barb was too busy servicing Greta just then to supervise his chores but he didn’t want to be caught and risk punishment. Consequently the room was dusted and polished when Barb came to collect him.
Applying two more pumps to his butt plug, Barb ushered him from the room. Hans wasn’t faking this time, he made very slow progress down the hall, panting like an expectant mother during labour. When they drew level with the office Hans stopped. Barb became impatient and she operated the valve on the pump so he felt the plug deflate, the pressure on his sphincter abating.
Tears of relief brimmed and that’s when Hans saw his opportunity, he was able to hook the bunch of keys from Barb’s pocket. He continued his hobbling progress up the hall back to his room, then announced that he needed to relieve himself. Although she tutted, Barb allowed him to visit the shower and toilet area where he peed and cleaned himself, hiding the bunch of keys underneath his fake boobs.
Barb ushered Hans into his room and shut the door behind him. At this point she must’ve realised her keys were missing. Hans stood with his ear to his cell door waiting for her distinctive heel taps as she retraced her steps, then he ducked out of his room swiftly and silently. He’d kicked his high heels off in his cell so was able to move more freely. He counted doors until he got to the office which he quickly unlocked to let himself in. Scanning the flickering monitors he easily spotted Greta’s room as Barb entered it in search of the missing keys.
Greta lay stretched out on a bed with straps extending from each corner which held her arms and legs in the spread eagle position. Nipple clamps hung from Greta’s firm breasts and a large dildo was sunk deep in her labia so only the flared base was visible. Her hair was in girlish plaits but her fringe was damp with sweat, in fact her whole body was sheened with perspiration. Barb drew close to tug on the chain between the nipple clamps; Greta’s head thrashed from side to side, a bestial moan wrenched from her lips.
To be Continued ….