If I don’t get out of here soon, she will find me here. Yes, I know it’s all my own fault, I shouldn’t have done it, but I did OK? And now I can’t get out again. And soon she will be doing her rounds and she will find me here, and while that’s a fantasy I might enjoy in private, I really don’t fancy it in reality.
It all started when we took a holiday down on the farm. This farm here as a matter of fact. A proper working farm, complete with animals, arable crops, manure spreading the lot. And when we arrived I first set my eyes on the lovely Celia. Tall, strapping Celia. With the mass of curly dark hair and a figure made hard and lithe by endless hours working the land. I guess there must have been other people about, but it was Celia I always noticed. Celia in the skintight jeans, jeans that squeezed an arse so tight and muscular it made my manhood hard and my palms sweaty.
I’m a submissive at heart I freely admit it, and when I was chatting with her one day I couldn’t keep my eyes from straying to the riding crop she was carrying. And I’m sure she noticed as well, but nothing was said. I guess I’m not the first tourist who has drooled over her, and I would be very surprised if I was the last.
Things took a turn for the worse when she gave me tour of some of the facilities. The tack room with all it’s delightful leather harnesses turned me on terribly, as did wandering through the stables as I imagined myself harnessed and bridled in the stalls. And always my eyes kept being dragged back to Celia as she walked in front of me, her magnificent arse swaying back and forth in those damn tight jeans. She knew exactly what she was doing to me I’m sure, and she was revelling in it.
We walked on through the barns, the feed stores, and finally through the milking parlour with it’s rows or gleaming steel apparatus and a row of cold steel cages where the animals being milked stood.
Cages. My ultimate fetish.
Every since I could remember I had wanted to know what it felt like to be kept helpless in a cage, but I had never been able to find a way of indulging myself without giving myself away. Maybe now I would have a chance.
Once we had finished our tour I waited by the window of my room until I saw Celia drive away to town then slipped quietly back into the milking parlour. All was silent and cool as I silently approached the row of cages. Each was tall enough to held a person on their hands and knees, with a swinging gate at the rear and a two-section weave gate at the front. I reached out and touched the stainless steel bars, snatching my hand back as if the steel was red hot as my fingertips touched it. So cold, so inescapable, so damn sexy !
I knelt down behind the cage and peered in. The inside was perfectly smooth so as not to harm any animals being milked so there was no danger of my getting snagged, and the rear door had a simple latch to open and close it. Yet it could be closed with me within to allow myself to indulge my fantasy.
Glancing quickly about I crawled forwards into the cage, pausing as my shoulders passed the threshold, my cock hard in my trousers, my head already bowing in fantasy submission. Yet something did not feel right. There was something missing. And in a moment I realised what it was.
Reversing myself quickly out of the cage I glanced guiltily about. My eyes lit on the wall clock, and I could see that I had plenty of time before Celia was likely to be back from town. Swiftly, I slipped out of my clothes and piled them in the corner. That was the missing element of my fantasy. The caged slaves were always kept naked.
Shivering at the prospect I knelt and started to crawl back into what was now my fantasy slaves cage again. This time my cock was bobbing hard in the air, crying out for the attention of a firm hand as I crept naked inside. Living my wild submissive fantasy. I playfully rattled the bars and cried out to the empty room and fantasy mistress to let me out, and behind me the cage door clanged closed, the latch snapping shut.
I indulged myself for a while, but the reality is less fun than the fantasy when there is no one else to share it with you, so I started to back out of my cage. My feet soon pressed against the closed door, and that was when I discovered that the cage was too narrow to turn round in. And no matter how hard I stretched and twisted, I simply couldn’t reach the catch to let myself out. I was trapped.
Fighting back the rising panic I lurched desperately towards the raised anti-weave gate at the front of the cage. It was going to be tight, but I was sure I would be able to climb out over that and make my escape back to sanity. Cursing my submissive nature. I put my head out of the front of the cage first to look about, and as my shoulders brushed the front of the cage the top half of the gate rattled down in it’s runners and placed a cold steel grip about my neck.
I frantically tried to pull back, but the hole left by the two sections was too small to allow my head to pass. And no matter how hard I strained, I couldn’t get the gate to rise again. Now I really was trapped. Like a captive in an old-time pillory my head stuck out into the fresh air with no hope of my being able to release it, and soon Celia would be coming back. And she would find me here. Trapped quite naked in a cage of my own making.
The first thing I knew of her return was her laughter. She walked down the steps sending out rolling peels of laughter as she saw what I had done to myself. And when she came into my view I blushed a deep, humbled scarlet and begged her to let me go. Somehow the fantasy wasn’t so much fun as a reality.
“Oh no!” she said, “You want to be milked, then I can oblige you.”
She turned away, and when she turned back she was holding a milking tube. One that was already making a rhythmic sucking noise.
“No, no, dear god no!” I pleaded as she walked round the cage and reached inside. I started fighting that implacable steel cage’s grip like a madman, but it was no use. And she was still laughing as she reached in and started to press the milking tube onto my raging cock. And it’s warm, firm interior felt so perfect as it was pressed further and further onto my manhood, swallowing it’s straining length and wrapping it in a warm embrace. And she kept on pressing until it’s smooth, rolled edge was pressed tight up against the base of my cock.
Then the sucking started to take an effect. A terrible, rhythmic action that soon had me sobbing with frustration. I looked up into her eyes and saw a terrible dominant fire that told me I had awakened a demon. My face fell, and her fingers appeared under my chin and tiled my head back again until our eyes met.
“Submit to me,” she said softly, “and I will make sure that your life will never be the same again.”
There were tears in my eyes as I allowed myself to be swallowed by those big brown eyes, big beautiful brown eyes that filled my mind as that terrible wanking pump had its way with me and I came longer and harder than I had ever done before.
And as I came and my body flushed she laughed again, long a hard. She picked up a bundle of leather straps from a peg on the wall and silently set about fastening them about my helplessly exposed head until I was swathed in a mass of leather straps bedecked with stainless steel rings that rendered me both silent and utterly controllable through the simple expedient of ropes, reins, or any other thing she might choose to affix to them, and I knew I was lost to her forever.
25.06.08