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He had said that he wanted to see me dance in a cage. The idea intrigued me, not so much because he would be watching me move, admiring my body, but much more because I’d get to experience being confined to a cage for a while. I always enjoyed the chance to experience bondage in a different form, and this would be another opportunity to do so. And from our past friendship, I knew that I could trust him, therefore, I had agreed.
Don and I had known each other for almost a year, both of us being members of our local munch group. Early on, we kind of fell together as singles at a small gathering of friends, mostly couples, that turned into a play party. It was an enjoyable experience, so we found a few other opportunities to play bondage games while with other friends, but nothing we did ever went very far toward sex or even real nudity. This would be the first time he and I would be alone together for more than just conversation, and I was rather excited, not knowing how far he planned on taking things. Still, I trusted him not to push my limits too far.
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The afternoon of my night of dancing, Don showed me to a dressing room where I took off my sneakers, socks, jeans and sweater. He insisted on me closing these items into a lockable box before he revealed what I would wear for my time in the cage. Once the box was locked and my clothing no longer available to me, he handed to me his choice of costume over the top of the door. It was a tiny, little, black leather bra with vertical zippers over the nipples and a matching thong with a similar zipper. The zippers were closed, but I doubted they’d stay that way, especially if he tied me up somehow. I didn’t know how much he might play with me when I’m helpless, but I trusted him not to hurt me.
Obviously I couldn’t wear my regular bra and panties beneath this skimpy costume, so with a distinct feeling of trepidation, I resigned myself to strip completely and put on the racy little offering. With the box already locked, I simply hung my delicates on a hook on the wall. Although I blushed at the thought of how exposed I’d be to my friend in this sexy costume, I couldn’t help but admire my own image in the full length mirror. It made me look decadent, like I intended to be naughty. And, after all, naughty girls should be locked up and punished, shouldn’t they? Besides that, the idea that I’d be unable to hide myself from his eyes while in his cage only added to my sense of impending helplessness, and that made my heart race. Yes, it was embarrassing to step out of the dressing room like this, but it was also very arousing and I caught myself squirming just a little at the thought.
Opening the dressing room door, I found Don waiting for me with a pair of handcuffs in his hand. My heart skipped a beat and I hesitated, noticing his approving eyes traveling my body, obviously pleased with the sight he was taking in. In another moment I would be even more beautiful to him in bondage. Resigning myself to his pleasure (and secretly my own), I turned and submitted to being handcuffed behind by back. The ratcheting of each shackle closing around each wrist made me feel vulnerable and excited all at once. Again I caught myself squirming, this time squeezing my thighs together before realizing that he must have been noticing this.
“Enjoying yourself already, I see,” he mentioned with a wicked grin.
“Um, yes, I suppose I am, Sir,” I acquiesced in abashment.
As he led me to the next room with his hand gently gripping my upper arm, I tested the handcuffs and allowed myself to revel in the physical control he had so easily gained over me. I felt intensely aroused, enough to want to play with myself, not that I would in front of him, but the handcuffs now prevented that little luxury, and this only served to arouse me even more. As we passed through a doorway, I finally saw the cage that would hold me. My eyes widened with just a little fear, but at the same time my tummy tightened in happy anticipation, little thrilling sensations rippling through my body.
It was a tall, skinny cage, very skinny and tapering. The bottom seemed barely large enough for both my feet but widened enough for my hips. It was made of a sturdy wire mesh, the wire much like a coat hanger with the openings about three inches square at most, and the whole thing painted a sleek black. The little bottom was bolted down to a small, round platform, a short pedestal rising a few inches from the center of the floor.
He sat me down on a bench and produced a pair of shoes, high heeled platform shoes, the kind that strippers wear. With my hands cuffed behind my back, I simply watched as he slipped them onto my feet and buckled the straps around my ankles, ensuring that they’d not come off until he wanted them off. I knew that these shoes were also part of my bondage, and liked them for that reason, more than for how sexy my feet looked in them. As I was thanking myself for getting a pedicure the day before, he did something that surprised me, but thrilled that kinky part of me. He showed me two little padlocks and snapped one on each ankle strap, making me a prisoner to my shoes.
With his hand grasping my upper arm again, he helped me up, ensuring that I found my balance atop the very high heels, then guided me over to the cage. As I stepped up into it, he was careful to ensure I wouldn’t fall.
I immediately took note of how utterly confining this cage would be. There was barely room to wiggle around in it, let alone dance, a fact confirmed by my body meeting its inner surfaces as I merely squirmed in my delight. I found that the back of the cage closed in sections as he had already locked the bottom area around my legs. That part of the door reached up to my mid thighs, leaving me no room to step up out of the cage. Only now, with me thus fettered and handcuffed, did he reveal the ball gag.
At first I resisted being gagged, not so much because I didn’t want it, but because I wanted to feel myself helpless to prevent it. The struggle was short lived and I quickly found my mouth filled with the rubber ball and the strap tightening across my cheeks and around the back of my neck. It did far more than hinder my power of speech as I found myself intently aroused, so much so that at this point, should my hands have been free, it wouldn’t have taken much playing to bring myself off.
But then he surprised me even more. I felt one of the handcuffs open, releasing my left wrist. He guided my hands to meet in front of me and once again engaged the handcuff, shackling me once more. Then, holding me to ensure I wouldn’t fall, he guided my arms upward to stretch over my head to the narrow top of the cage. The two other portions of the door then closed to seal me into the cage and I quickly found that the narrow confines of the top prevented me from lowering my arms. Oh how I wanted to lower them and rub my secret spots, but this was impossible, leaving me to squirm in unfulfilled passions. Then he went a step further and padlocked the chain between the handcuffs to the top of the cage. There was now no way at all for me to escape this bondage situation. I reveled in my helplessness, happily squirming in the inability to complete my own pleasure. As I had learned long ago, the sexual frustration only served to enhance my sense of helplessness, thus arousing me further. And when a deepening arousal is combined with lengthy denial, when climax finally comes, it’s very intense. So I’m enjoying my sexual frustration, knowing that when, at last, I get the chance to come, it will be an amazingly powerful orgasm. Still, if I were able to play with myself, I would bring myself off now, and perhaps that would ruin the ultra-orgasm I could have, but I guess I’m just weak in that area of self-discipline. So the anticipation of the wonderful reward at the end of this session is what really spurs on my enjoyment of the helplessness my bondage provides for me.
Don stepped over to a panel of switches on the wall and spotlights flooded down upon me. I then expected the music to start and for him to take a seat in one of the many cushy chairs surrounding my cage, but the music didn’t start. Instead he approached me, looking up at my face, smiling at how the big ballgag stretched my jaws and how I was completely unable to do anything about that.
“I’ll leave you here for about an hour while my guests arrive,” he said to my shock. “When they get here you’ll start dancing. You’ll notice that the small size of the openings between the wire bars of the cage are small enough to prevent a man’s whole hand from getting in there with you, but don’t be surprised if my friends reach through with curious fingers. And you’ll continue to dance for them. If you don’t dance to my liking, you’ll find that my cattle prod will easily fit through the bars. Enjoy your stay. You’ll be here most of the night.”
I was horrified. But then I realized that I was probably hornier than I had ever been. I desperately wanted to masturbate, even with him watching, but I was totally unable to do anything about it. Indeed, this was going to be a long night.
Grinning up at me, he reached a finger through the cage toward my groin. I didn’t even think about it, I just thrust myself forward so his finger could touch my leather covered sex. I held myself there as he managed to work the little zipper down and my swelling labia immediately protruded through the opening. His finger felt wonderful as he sampled the moisture that was already collecting in abundance. But the contact was brief as he pulled away and laughed at me. I held no secrets from him now, I had given myself away. Then he turned and I moaned against the gag, pleading for him not to go, but he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him and leaving me to ponder what I’d gotten myself into.