The Key Game (Part 2)

It’s a quiet weeknight at the microbrewery. The dim lighting causes shadows to flicker on the tables, adding a touch of intimacy to our secluded corner of the room. Throughout the bar, we see a few regulars, a young couple on a date, and some colleagues settling their bills.

We’re all the way in the back of the room, huddled around a small table far away from others, so hidden that no one can hear us over the sounds of conversation and clinking glasses. We can say whatever we want. Maybe that’s why my lover is, once again, asking my permission to come this week, even though October has only begun. You should know that we’re playing a game, a game that’s part of our BDSM play :

“Just to take the pressure off a little,” he begs, looking longingly at me with his beautiful eyes.

“October just started! It’s been barely five days.” I reply, feigning compassion. “How is it already so unbearable?”

“I usually touch myself almost every day,” he says.

“And you’re making this my problem because?”

I can just imagine his member swelling up, his erection contained by the chastity cage he wears under his pants, just for me. The idea of this hidden tension brings a satisfied smile to my lips.

Our little secret. The rules of the game are simple: he can’t have an orgasm for an entire month.

I’m the one in charge of enforcing the rules, and I take great pleasure in my role as Dom .. I feel an intoxicating power in denying his requests, every whispered word to test his limits. My approach is gentle but firm; however I feel I need to specify a few things before we go any further.

“I want to remind you that you can withdraw your consent at any time. Do you want to keep playing?”

“I really like that you checked in with me. Thank you. And yes, I would like to keep playing. I just didn’t think it would have this effect on me.”

“What effect?” I ask, sipping my beer. I’m genuinely curious.

The bitterness of the hops contrasts with the sweet taste of power. 

“To be constantly horny, and not being able to… you know, release the pressure.”

I move closer and whisper, “You’re in exactly the state I want you to be in.”

“How’s that?”

“Easy to manipulate.”

“Pffft. Not true.”

“We’ll just see about that.”

“But seriously… Do you think we can bend the rules a little so I can finish this weekend? That’ll make it seven days. After that, I promise, I’ll put the cage back on, we’ll relock the padlock, and you can have the key back.”

“No. Impossible,” I say, stifling laughter. “That would ruin the purpose of the game, and you’ve been doing so well so far; you’re almost a quarter of the way there. Think how good it’ll feel to make love after you’ve fulfilled the challenge. The suspense, the tension… If you come now, all that build-up would just evaporate, and then all your efforts would be for nothing. It would be a shame to spoil it, wouldn’t it?”

He seems to weigh my words before continuing. “Do you really think I can succeed at Locktober?” ?

“Absolutely, my love! I believe in you. I never said this would be easy. But I can promise you it’ll be a month you won’t ever forget. Who knows, once this is all over, you might even look forward to October!”

He laughs.

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“On the other hand, I need to specify something.”

I let the silence hang before I launch into it.

“I won’t put up with you begging me for the key every other day. From now on, if you insist, there will be consequences.”

My sudden change turns him on. I can feel a shiver running through his body. He walked right into the trap I set for him.

“What kind of consequences?”

“Do you still like to be humiliated? Degraded ?”

His cheeks flush. Timidly, he confesses that he does, as if he were a little embarrassed to admit that he feels aroused at the idea of being humiliated, of handing over the steering wheel and letting someone else take control.

“In that kind of way, then, maybe…”

He gets up.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom, I’ll be back in two seconds.”

I raise a hand to stop him, my fingers slowly closing to remind him that he is not entirely free to do as he pleases.

“Wait, don’t go just yet.”

“What do you mean?”

Even his most basic needs can be used as leverage in this game.

“You’ll see, it’s part of the game. Just one more beer, then we’ll go.”

The idea surprises him, but I can see in his eyes that he is ready to be guided. A beer later, I pay the bill, and we head out into the crisp night air. We cross a park on the way to the apartment. It’s dark, and there’s no one around.

“You’re walking fast,” I notice.

I relish in his nervousness, this almost palpable tension.

“I really need to pee!”

His face reveals a sense of panic, and his features tense as he struggles to control himself. I gently grab his hand, my fingers tighten around his, and I stop walking to force him to stop.

“I really have to go to the bathroom. Come on, let’s go back inside.”

I pull him towards me until our pelvises are touching, and I whisper in his ear, my voice soft but commanding:

“Beg me again to let you come before the end of the month.”

“Just once, please…”

I watch him intensely, analyzing his every hesitation. He is so vulnerable, almost dancing to try to maintain some control.

“Would you be willing to do anything just to be able to release the pressure a little?”

I know that the desire consumes him. I also know that the beer goes right through him in no time at all. I keep going.

“You can pee now if you want.”

“What, here? I can’t pee standing up like I usually do with the cage on. It doesn’t aim like it normally does.”

I move closer, playing on the slowness of my movements to heighten the intensity of the moment.

“Taking off your pants was never on the table.”

I see his incomprehension turn into hesitation; a panic washes over him, as if he suddenly understands that the game is about to reach a new level. His face tenses, and for a moment, he is frozen, caught between the need to free himself and the humiliation that doing so would involve.

“What do you mean?”

Je souris, mon ton basculant entre douceur et contrôle :

I smile, my tone shifting between calm and controlling.

“If you really have to pee, go ahead. I give you permission.”

He stares at me, his mouth slightly open, stunned by my proposition.

“Honestly, I’m not going to piss myself.”

I give him a slightly mocking smile, my eyes shining with defiance. It’s a game of total control, and every word, every gesture brings me a little closer to that moment when he will give in completely.

“You want to, don’t you? This is your chance. I bet you’re not up to it.”

“I’m not going to wet my pants in public in a park like I couldn’t hold it in.”

“Why not?”

I step back, scanning the surroundings to make sure no one is watching. Then, with a calculated gesture, I take his hand and place it on his crotch, feeling the rigid cage through his jeans. There’s no one around. Just the two of us. His penis is ready to explode, I know it. His bladder, too. It’s delicious to see him in this state, desperate for relief.

“This is way too embarrassing.”

I look at him, smiling wryly. How far can I take things? Teasing him, I remind him of what he revealed to me earlier.

“Weren’t you the one who said how much you loved to be humiliated?”

“I didn’t think you’d take me seriously!”

His smile says it all; he laughs an incredulous laugh, something I love about him.

“Careful what you wish for,” I whisper, bringing my lips to his ear. “Do I look stupid?”

He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. I stare at him, studying his reaction, wondering if I can get him to surrender. But first, I want to make sure he feels comfortable with the tension I’m putting him under. I still want him to have fun testing his boundaries.

“Am I going too far? Do you want to stop playing ?”

“No, no,” he says immediately.

I can see how excited he is, almost trembling. He quickly adds, “I love it, even! You know exactly which buttons to push to turn me on. I’ve never felt at someone’s mercy like this before.”

My lover’s surrender gives me immense satisfaction:

“Would it help to convince you if I told you I would make an exception and allow you to come once this weekend if you do everything I tell you to do?”

“For real?”

His eyes light up. I savour this fleeting and precious glimmer of hope, knowing how it will change. I run my fingers through his hair, caressing him gently before whispering in his ear:

“Let me guide you. Trust me.”

He capitulates. I won. His body caves into the desire he was trying so hard to fend off. I feel his warmth and see the dark halo spreading across his crotch, his jeans gradually soaking through. It’s my turn to feel thrilled at having so much power over my sub.

“Can I come over this week?” he whispers, wet and ashamed, his eyes pleading.

I take him by the neck, our lips meet in an intense kiss, an exchange of pure, raw desire. We kiss passionately. My hands slide down his torso to his wet crotch, caressing the cage through the damp fabric. My excitement mounts, thinking about him walking home, damp jeans, fully humiliated.

“Remember? I told you there would be consequences if you asked me to come.”

My gaze is piercing, my words charged with unflappable authority.

“The answer is no, and it will stay no until the end of the month.”

I let my words sink in before adding, in a softer and more cheerful tone:

“Consider yourself lucky because if you keep insisting, your next accident might not be in a deserted park at night. Let’s go back to my apartment. You have a shower to take. Then, I want your head between my legs.”

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[I must confess]