Women Chat Part One

“He’s now sporting an even tinier cage,” Esther told her friend over a glass of wine. They met up a couple of times annually, and once they had covered the usual topics, their conversations invariably drifted to their sex lives.

For years, Esther’s intimacy with husband Rick had been practically non-existent after he started wearing his chastity cage last year. He had read that it would benefit their connection; since you can’t masturbate while locked up, he wouldn’t waste sexual energy but would instead focus on her. It was a daunting idea at first, but she eventually got used to the notion. Rick bought one and strapped it on that very night.

She found his naked exit from the bathroom amusingly strange—a transparent plastic device firmly secured behind his balls with a ring gave him the appearance of a limp cock. “Well, if that’s what gets under his skin, I’ll let him have it,” she mused.

Since then, their marriage has transformed significantly.

Rick became more attentive: tidying up after himself and taking charge more often. He rarely argued now and grew increasingly physical, brushing her back as he passed, wrapping his arms around her from behind, and kissing her neck—a gesture absent for thirty years. They also agreed to be intimate once a week.

“Intimate,” that was the word he used because it wasn’t “real sex” like in the past. After those fiery early years of marriage, children and responsibilities had slowly extinguished her lust. When they did couple up, she would allow him his due; eventually, it felt like a half-hour chore before she could retreat to her own space again. The intervals between sessions grew longer until intimacy became an occasional, somewhat uncomfortable event rather than the norm.

She often discussed this with her friend Shirley after shopping trips or cinema visits. Though Shirley had been divorced for years and was open-minded and far from prudish, her sex life wasn’t spectacular either—occasional one-night stands with married men, relationships lasting a month or so, followed by long dry spells.

Esther hesitated before finally mentioning Rick’s new interest to Shirley. “Quite weird and awkward,” she admitted. “But if you can’t talk about it with your best friend, who else is there?” Shirley asked aloud, prompting Esther to speak up.

After that night, Shirley knew all the details: how Rick had grown more confident since giving up masturbation; how their ‘intimate afternoons’ became deeper and more intense as he revealed his hidden desires. He was shedding some of his archetypal strong-man persona (evident in how he trimmed and shaved his pubic hair), preferring to keep the cage on during their time together.

“It’s enough for me if you enjoy eating me out,” he had said. And indeed, he did that more frequently, with longer, franker sessions. After a few months, Esther even began anticipating their Sunday afternoons together. Shirley listened intently as her friend spoke.

“About three months ago, he asked me to keep the key to his cage,” Esther continued. “Not just hold it, but preferably wear it on a chain around my neck. He stated that this confirms his sexuality is in my hands and made it clear I should be the boss in bed—deciding when the cage comes off and if he gets release.”

“Strange story,” Shirley replied, “but I guess it suits you both well.”

It had been a year since then, and now they were chatting again. Curiosity got the better of Shirley, who asked about developments with Rick, leading Esther to describe his new, smaller cage.

“He used to want his cock to look as large as possible,” Esther said quietly, glancing around to ensure no one was eavesdropping. “But now he finds it sexy walking around in that tiny shell. He even asks me for commentary—telling him his cock has shrunk and that locking it up is a good thing because it’s too small for fucking anyway.” She watched as the cage began to shake slightly, seeing how aroused this made him.

“Well, that isn’t really unusual,” Shirley said, surprising Esther. “When you first told me about Rick, I did some Googling and was taken aback by what I found. Initially, I was shocked by all those photos of men of various ages and sizes posing with their cages and keyholders. But as I read more, it started to fascinate me.

That’s how I learned that many men choose cock cage wearership to express submissiveness—or perhaps their submissive nature is what drew them to the device in the first place. Why else would they order and wear one? And if a man wishes to behave submissively toward his partner, he doesn’t necessarily need a large cock. A small cage confirms that submission, making him feel hornier.

“Well,” Esther said, “you’ve really immersed yourself in this world.”

“Even more than you realize,” Shirley replied. “Yes, I told you it was beginning to fascinate me too. Because I noticed what it did for me as well—I realized I’m actually a kind of dominatrix. That was often the reason relationships ended; they thought I was too bossy or bitchy.

“And that’s true in hindsight. I just want to be in charge, even in bed. I never fully recognized this before, but now it’s very clear.”

“Are you consciously dating submissive men now?”

“Not really. I don’t know where to meet them. The guys I go out with are usually more dominant types.

“Maybe you should come and give Rick a good spanking,” Esther laughed. “He’s been asking me lately, but I can’t quite bring myself to do it. It seems such a ridiculous concept—a grown man with his dick caged in his bare butt over my knee.” She had done it once, though not entirely wholeheartedly.

“Of course you’re joking,” Shirley pondered, “but actually, I think the idea is very sexy—that I would give Rick glowing buttocks. Bare-handed, or perhaps with a hairbrush, riding crop, or something similar.

When I see women spanking subs online, I get completely wet.”

Esther gazed thoughtfully into her glass for a moment before lifting her head, a smile playing around her lips. “Can you make it Saturday night?” she asked.