I haven’t spoken to him in a while. I’d noticed a few posts on Twitter and eventually, we get around to DMing again and then WhatsApp.
He’s caged at the moment with a new pink plastic sissy case for his cock. The pictures don’t especially turn me on, but the concept does. Long before I’d even seen a real cage in the flesh I was a huge fan of @thumpermn reading about his experiences of chastity. The incredible power of a man prepared to do that for a woman has always interesting to me, if not a fantasy.
We flick back and forth with news, sexy and not sexy, sharing links to porn and fantasies. He tells me he’s going to try the 40 days of lockdown which is quite a hilarious double irony given the current pandemic. It’s also a matter of willpower as probably the most logical thing to do while *gestures around* all THIS is going on is self-love.
For the first two or three days of lockdown I wanked solidly. I couldn’t think of anything else. Bullet vibe, vibrator, hand, everything. Even the Doxy came out again eventually as my body craved a different feeling, despite its very loud hum. It was quite the reaction to what was happening. Taking back control? I can control my orgasm but not my life? Freud would have a field day. I would work, then stop, then indulge myself at regular intervals. As I’ve documented over the past six weeks of lockdown, I heard from fuckboys new and old. Some still offering to meet up, even now. “I’m safe”, “are you free for a visitor?” “I can be there in half an hour”.
Tempting as it all was, not on my watch. I wanted something different….a long game instead of a risky quick fix.
He sends me a few pictures of his progress over the next few days, and him in some sissy underwear. No-one is particularly domming him, and I don’t have enough of the inclination to make it feel authentic. I ask who’s knickers they are and what they are made from – the small triangle looks like thin leather. It makes me want to touch the cage through it. I ask if they’re clean – “yes” comes the reply.
Almost simultaneously he suggests I send some of my underwear just as I’ve asked clean or dirty. And so it begins. Great minds.
I select a properly sissy pair, peach-coloured with a frill all the way around and a small pale blue bow at the front. Usually, I wear a liner like a good girl but today is different. The thought of wearing these for him is driving me crazy. I’m working from home but my cunt squeezes and rubs against the fabric and I squirm in my chair. It’s too tempting to retire to the bedroom and watch myself pull the knickers aside, part my cunt lips, lie back on the bed and fuck myself. It’s going to be this way for a while anyway. It doesn’t take me long to come. I remove the vibe and replace the knickers and get back to work.
Later, I do the same again. Again, I don’t use porn. I think about the last time I got laid, how his head went between my legs for a very long time until I was numb and told him to stop. I wonder if I will ever fuck him again. When I will fuck anyone ever again?
I want to catch the post, so I remove them around 4.30pm and wrap them carefully in tissue with a ribbon. Of course, I smell just to check they are as sweet as possible. I add a note on a devil postcard ” Look what you made me do x”
A few days later, he sends me the pictures with him wearing them. My goodness. How a simple gesture can trigger so much pleasure. Do I wank over those images? Do I immediately select another pair to “mess” for him? You will have to wait and see.
Either way, I have my wish granted for a ridiculously erotic correspondence, should I want it.