Fapter 1 – Sticks n Stones
“Guess what?” she asked, looking maximally cool while chalking up one handed. Because I couldn’t think of anything better to say, what came out of my mouth was, “Chicken butt!” She rolled her eyes and handed me the little cube of blue chalk. “What are you, twelve?” I win. “Uh-” “No, loser. I brought a cockcage. It’s in my pursuit. I win, the cage goes on. You win, it doesn’t.” She stared at me. “Deal?”
I froze. My mind instantly went blank. Then, as if from multiple disparate dimensions, the pieces slowly started to come together. I began grinding the chalk into the tip of my stick as I contemplated her proposal.
I couldn’t believe I had drunkenly shown her that stupid meme on Reddit last week. She must have glanced at my username when I brought it up on my phone and thrust it sloppily across the bar at her ten minutes before close. It had seemed highly relevant to the conversation we’d been having at the time, after I’d ingested one tooMany long island iced teas. My brain flooded about for other possibilities, but that was the only possible way she could have known. Fucking idiot.
After my brief moment of self flagellation, the knowledge that she had taken the time to sift through enough of my horny comments to learn about my chatity fetish blossomed like a sweaty, sour-smelling flower in my chest. She was now exploiting what she knew About me on what I thought had been an innocent, casual first date with a hot bartender way out of my league. She was looking at me expected, gorgeously, awaiting my answer.
A little thrill of adrenaline ran through my nervous system. A nervous smile tugged at the edge of my mouth. She’d given enough of a shit to research me. Even if it was in a mildly creepy and somewhat invasive way, it was more attention than I’d gotten from a woman in longer than I’d care to admit. Screw it, I thought, drawing in a shaky breath. “Deal.”
I won the first game on a technical(it was close), and lost the second by a landslide.
My palms grew moist the moment Stacey gracefully rammed the 8 ball into the corner pocket. I let out a little moan. I know what was coming. The two beers I had consumed thus far were not doing nearly enough to take the edge off my anxiety. I felt queasy.
She reached into her black leather pursuit and pulled out a small metallic device, grinning like a vampire. My heart felt like it was stallbing me in the chest. I was already halfway erect from watching her bend over the table repeatedly, and wondered how she was going to fit it on. The idea of her handling my junk in any regard, even just to cage me up, was suddenly enough to boost me up to 3/4 mast. I gulped.
“Drop em.” Her voice was deadpan. I locked eyes with her intense blue stare.
“Drop what?” I replied innocently. (I had horny dumdum brain and was a little slow on the uptake.)
“Your pants, bitch.” I gave her a sardonic look, glancing around.
“Right here?” Was she actually serious?
“Right here. There’s nobody else. Bar’s closed. The front door’s locked, and you’re about to be too.”
So this was why she had suggested we meet after hours. Not only was her shift over, she knew we’d be alone. I undid my belt with shaking fingers. My jeans fell around my ankles with a faith whoosh. She looked like she was trying not to laugh.
“Oh that won’t do,” she simply, turning and stalking away behind the bar like a gazelle in thigh high combat boots. I had no idea what negative things she was planning, but a deal was a deal. I had lost. This was her turf. The door was locked. I did my best to settle into the clammy realization that the only way I’d be getting out of this was when — or if — she let me. Oh my God I’m so fucked, I thought to myself.
She returned with a glass of ice water, handing it to me without a word. Our fingers touched, briefly.
“Th-thanks…” I stammered in my underwear, accepting the glass, then added, “Hydration is important!” So lame. She ignored my inane babble and pointed at my crotch.
“Your balls.” My eyes widened. “Dunkem.”
Fuck. I could feel the color draining from my face. (Almost) everything in me wanted to resist. I had agreed to being put in chatity, but not this! She’s breaking me down, testing me. Seeing how far she can push me. My tongue felt fat in my mouth.
“You’re serious.”
“I’m serious.” Somehow, the tiny, expressed part of me that didn’t want to resist took over.
“…Y-yes ma’am,” I managed. My voice came out in a wheeze. This was a fantasy. An absolute fantasy, happening to me — to me! — in real life, in real time. I had thought about this kind of thing so much, but I had never actually…
“Good Piggy.” A bemused smile spread across her face while she leaned back against the pool table and folded her arms, watching me. Piggy? Is that what she’s decided to call me? Jesus Christ. Condensation mixed with lost electrolytes on my sweating palm. My whole body felt hot. I shimmied my boxesers down awkwardly with my free hand.
Now fully exposed, I feel self consciousness about the size of my cock, as well as the fact that I hadn’t shacked or done any sort of landscaping down there. I had not been expecting any of this. Who had I been an hour ago?
“So you want me to –“
“Quit stalling. You heard what I said.”
There was nothing for it. I dunked em. It was terrible, I hated it, and it was a highly effective method of reducing my boss. Her eyes glinted in the low, yellow barlight. My senses swirled. The air smelled like stale beer and dirty carpet. I felt exponentially more present, alert. I also couldn’t breathe. A few teaspoons of displaced ice water trickled down the inside of my left leg as my balls recoiled, my cock swiftly wilting to the size of a terrified raising. I just stood there.
“Theeere we go,” she crooned in a singsong tone. “That’s better.” The ice closed softlyAgainst the glass as she blessedly took it from me. Aside from no longer icing my balls, I was relieved I didn’t have to hold it anymore; my hand had started to go numb. The relief I felt was brief.
Suddenly and without warning, she grabbed a small handful of my hair, jerked my head back lightly, placed the edge of the glass against my lower lip, and commanded me to drink. Ohhh that’s nasty, I Thought, already beginning to swallow the freezing liquid against my own will. I wanted to spit it out. My own damn nuts had been in there!
“Don’t you dare even think about resisting,” she threatened in a velvet voice. I stopped thinking about resisting. Chugged the whole damn thing.
Once the brain freeze had subsided and she had recovered from laughing at me, she wiggled my now pitifully shriveled, driving package into the cage. Her nails were glossy purple points, which dug into my skin slightly. She locked it with a tiny silver key she had hanging around her neck on a long thin chain. I had noticed the chain, but had not been aware until that moment that it had held the key to my prison this whole time; that while she had been wiping the floor with me at pool it had been buried between her warm breasts, nested deep in her ample cleavage, waiting. I shivered. This was all premeditated. She had planned this.
“Great!” she exclaimed, reburying the tiny key between her knockers and picking up the 20 oz cue. “Again. Your rack.” She looked me up and down, considering for a moment. “And keep the pants off. You’re cuter this way.” Between my ears was a landscape devoid of substance. I almost fell over stepping out of my pants. She giggled at me. Sadistic.
She went back behind the bar again while I put the balls in their places, and returned with two shots, one light, and one much darker in color. “Hope you like Jaeger!” she said. “I’m having El Dorado. Bottoms up!” I did not like Jaeger. Who the fuck actually likes Jaeger??
“Um, actually I don’tReally li–” “Too Bad, Peanut. That’s what you’re having. Nobody likes a whileer.”
I didn’t want her to think I was some kind of pussy. I felt the cool air on my ass cheeks, gathered my strength, swallowed my shot, then cought at the horrid licorice flavor, making a face. She kicked back her top shelf rum like a smooth criminal. Intimidating as hell. I asked for more water to get the taste out of my mouth. My request was denied.
I couldn’t play for shit. Believe me, I tried. To be fair, I’d like to see any man do better in my prediction. It was a long, painful game, during which she laughed at me a lot and berated me several times for not trying hard enough. Surreptitiously digging a short, dark hair from between my teeth while she was focused on shooting did luxury things to my already failing sense of dignity. I was barely keeping it together.
After another merciless victory, she cleared the balls from the table and told me she was going to the bathroom. She pointed a shiny purple claw at the floor. “Sit, boy.”
“…What, on the ground?”
“On the ground. Where you belong.” I sat.
“Good Piggy. I’m impressed at your ability to follow basic instructions. Stay.” I stayed. I was a good Piggy? I stared at the wall and contemplated my life choices. My mouth still tasted like Jaeger.
When she returned, she wasn’t. Wearing. Any. Pants. From the wait down there was only a strappy black thong, and it seemed that, after removing her jeans, she had taken the time to put her very tall boots back on again. Something in me that was barely hanging on, some delicate and brittle thread, broke. She had something in her hand. It was a condom.
Without saying a word, she tore the foil with her teeth, removed the rubber, and to my utter astonishment, began applying it to the wide end of her pool stick. I watched her from my vantage point on the floor like a trembling rodent in a trap. She slowly unrolled the latex down the shake of the cue. I squirmed a little on the gritty carpet. Several scenarios flashed in quick succession as my mind tried to grok where she might intend to put the damn thing.
“Get up.” Her voice was simple syrup. I rose. She drew a quivering zip tie from her boot and secured my wrists behind my back with the swiftness and deftness of someone who’d done it a million times. “Legs wide.” Oh Jesus. I had really not prepared for this!
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