When you wake up bound to the bed frame and realize that this is the best you could’ve asked for, you know that you’re broken. The question is whether it bothers you or not. For me, waking up with my wrists and ankles encased in steel, warmed from my body heat over the course of the night, is a pleasant morning. Squirming, a slight moan works up my throat. Last night’s invader is still firmly in place, stretching me deliciously.

       Many men claim that they can get ‘rock hard,’ but if they had my Mistress, they’d know how wrong they were. You see, inside me is a truly rock hard cock. It was carved from white marble in the semblance of an engorged penis. There are black veins running through it at random, but there are also thick ropey veins carved into the surface of the object object. You see, she designed it partially from the appearance of my own cock. It has a very well defined head and is as long as I’ve ever been. She’d taken measurements from me after days of teasing and denial; I had grown larger than ever before thanks to her skilled ministrations, eight and three quarter inches.

       There are obviously dildos longer that I could be made to suffer with, but she likes the symmetry of fucking me with a cock the same size as my own. Me? I like how it fills me without destroying me. You see, she’d designed it for long time use. By that, I mean that during its construction, a threaded hole was placed at the base. Thusly, it can be attached to anything from a chair to a wall to a harness. That’s where the sizing really comes into play. I wouldn’t be able to move with something excessively large inside me, as much as I’d like to. And if it were any longer, I wouldn’t be able to sit down without the risk of puncturing my colon. So it fills me well without doing me harm.

       I squirm on it a bit wishing that I had permission to get hard at least. Instead, I’m locked into my chastity belt. Actually, it’s a butt plug harness with an o-ring for my cock to fit through. But Milady hadn’t wanted me hard without permission, so she’d replaced the ring with a locking cock cage. I can urinate, but I can’t get hard. However, she can free my cock without freeing my ass. So I can be kept stuffed much more often. I’d hated it at first, but now, I truly enjoy it.

       I’m going to miss it. It’s been locked inside me since I got home from work on Friday. Every weekend and holiday or day off, I’m locked into this harness. But, it’s Monday. She’ll come through the door in a moment to release me from the bed and the belt. I squirm a bit more to enjoy the last bit of my confinement and denial. I won’t be allowed to jerk off before work, but at lunch break or before she comes home, I should be able to squeeze it in. I groan at the thought of my hand working me over after so long locked away. By far, this isn’t the longest I’ve been denied, but every session ends feeling that way.

       The door opens and my wonderful, beautiful wife glides through, evil leer on her lips. “Sleep well, darling?” she asks.

       I nod. I haven’t been given permission to speak yet. Her smile broadens, dark eyes gleaming and crinkling in contentment. I’d served her well this weekend. I always tried to, but sometimes I’d get distracted. Not this time.

       Her pale fingers lightly graze over my chest and stomach, to the top of my belt and back up to my throat. I shiver; her touch can be so light that it’s almost like imagining it sometimes. “Darling,” she says pulling her hand away.

       My brow furrows. Normally, she’d be unlocking my hands by now.

       “You like the way I treat you, don’t you?” she asks, doubt evident in her depthless eyes.

       I nod fervently. I won’t have her doubting herself. Where did this come from?

       “I’m glad,” she says, a worrisome glint in her eyes. “But I was thinking that maybe we could try something new. Would you like that?”

       My face automatically breaks into a grin as I nod. I love it when she plots new things. I’ll have a full work week to fantasize about what she’ll do.

       “Good!” she laughs melodically and my blood heats. She unlocks me from the bed.

       I rub sore wrists as I wait for her to unlock my harness. Once it’s off, I’ll be free to question her about her plans and reassure those doubts away. She stands, and my eyes dart to her.

       “Get dressed for work. It’s too late for your shower now,” she orders and I stare after her as she leaves.

       She can’t mean to leave me harnessed. Maybe she’s just playing to get me worried. I sit up and groan as the marble cock brushes my sweet spot. I guess she just wants to get me really worked up before I have to leave today. I stand and pull out a tee shirt and my coveralls. I’m a mechanic. Normally, I’d wear boxers under them as well, but not with the belt. It wouldn’t be unheard of for her to send me to work without underwear. And it’s far too hot in the shop to wear jeans under the coveralls. I’d melt.

       Zipping up, I put my watch, wedding ring, and a thick silver chain necklace back on. The necklace acts as my collar when I’m out of the house. It’s very strong and quite pretty, like my wife. And it’s a socially acceptable way to show her ownership of me and my devotion to her. No one else knows what it means, but they don’t matter.

       Going out into the kitchen, I find my breakfast set up on the floor next to her chair. A small cushion laid before it for me to kneel on. So that’s it. She wants me to eat as a slave one last time before I go. I kneel before her seated form and kiss her feet before crawling to my cushion and kneeling upon it. I suppress another series of moans as the marble phallus torments me.

       “You may use your hands,” she says, nibbling a piece of toast.

       I’m still confused as those words set in. I look at the clock and eat quickly since I know that it‘ll take her a few minutes to get the harness removed and for me to clean up. I finish and kiss her feet again, hoping she’ll have me unzip my coveralls and lean over the table to be freed.

       The marble cock teases me with every move I make, seeming to grow as the threat of a workday like this grows closer. Crawling with it inside me is distracting to say the least. She reaches down and pets my hair, brushing it back from my eyes like a favored dog.

       I whimper, knowing that I’m not allowed to speak yet, but time is running out! She scoots her chair out and picks up the dishes.

       “You better get going, or you’re going to be late,” she says.

       My eyes bug out. She can’t be serious.

       “Like this?” I ask breaking one of her favorite rules.

       She looks over to me, eyes wide in surprise. “I haven’t given you permission to speak,” she says clearly. “And yes, like that. I told you that we were going to try something new.”

       My eyes widen. I can’t!

       “Now get going. You’ll be punished for your tongue tonight. If you’re late, I’ll add more torment to your evening, darling.”

       Then she smiles and takes my hand. “Now, on your feet.” I stand. “Give me a kiss.” I do, eyes still wide as the invader toys with my insides. My face burns.

       She leads me to the door, handing me my wallet and keys. I still can’t believe it as I bend over to pull my boots on and grit my teeth as my prostate is stabbed.

       She pushes me out the door, leaning in to say, “You may speak,” just before she shuts it behind me.

       My heart hammers as I approach my truck. I’m really going to work with a marble cock up my ass and my cock trapped in a metal tube. My hand on the roof of my truck, I realize that I’m dripping already.

       I can’t do this.

       The cock feels so good in me as I walk back to the door and knock. Milady opens the door, and I open my mouth. “Please ma’am, can you plug my cock?” I ask wanting to go through with this, but not wanting the guys at the shop to think I’ve pissed or creamed my pants.

       She laughs and says, “Hurry inside. I’m still going to punish you if you’re late!”

       “Yes, Milady.” I step into the living room as she goes to the bedroom to retrieve our special plug. I unzip my coveralls, dropping them to my ankles as she returns.

       Whereas most plugs can’t be used with penis cages, due to the curved position they’re kept in and the fact that most plugs would damage a cock trapped in such a position, ours is flexible. It has short solid one inch segment which attaches to a flexible tube which is capped by another short piece of metal. It’s three inches in length, so it’ll fill me quite nicely. I won’t be able to urinate with it in though.

       She ducks down to press the cap against the slit of my penis where it’s pressed against a hole in the cock cage which normally enables me to pee. She doesn’t bother with lube since I’m dripping at the thought of what I’ll endure today. It slides in fairly easily, making me moan and want to jerk off so badly. Once it’s fully seated in me, she uses a small allen wrench to give it a half turn, locking it in place. My eyes roll back as it turns inside me. She’d had the hole in my cock cage threaded so that the plug could be ‘locked’ in like this. We’ve never done this before, but she’s threatened. And oh god, I wish we had.

       My head lolls back. She pinches my chin in her hand and makes my eyes meet hers. “You’ll call me before lunch break and meet me here once we can find a time which works for us both. You’ll be permitted to empty your bladder then and make lunch for us before you return to work like this. Understood?”

       “Yes, Milady,” I sigh. My body is hers.

       “Get dressed, and expect a double punishment tonight. You’re already late!”

       I nod, looking forward to that dark promise. Pulling my clothes back into place, I fight my arousal for control and drive to work. Oh my god, driving like this feels wonderful. The vibrations of the truck’s engine course up into the marble. I melt and mechanically get myself to work.

       I’m late, but I don’t get written up. My boss is cool and assumes from the ‘stupid look on my face’ that I got laid this morning and that’s why I’m late. He just gives me a warning and a wink. He’s seen my wife.

       Soon enough, I’m on my back on a crawler trying not to bite through my fist as the vibrations from the wheels against the shitty concrete floor travel into my massive butt plug. I take a few calming breaths and force myself to work. Bending under hoods is no better and when Rudy asks me why my hand looks like it’d been gnawed on by a wild raccoon, all I could think to say was that I’d dropped a wrench on my foot and hadn’t wanted to get in anymore trouble with the boss man, so I’d bitten myself instead of cursing a blue streak.

       He’d laughed before asking if I was okay. I’d nodded and escaped under the next car I could. The vibrations were worse, but at least no one was looking at me. I manage to dodge the rest of the crew in this way; I take to biting my sleeve when the consequences of my predicament are truly unbearable. Hopefully, that will let me avoid further inquiries. Though, I know a few groans escape me; I hope anyone who hears them simply thinks I’m having trouble with a stubborn bolt.

       When noon comes, I step out to call my Mistress, I couldn’t think of her as anything else with what’s inside me, driving me closer to the brink of madness with every passing second. We schedule to meet at one. She has a late report that needs immediate attention. I agree even though my bladder is killing me. I’ve checked my coveralls at every opportunity; I don’t have a wet spot yet. I shouldn’t be able to make one, but with how badly I need to piss, I worry about leaking. I’m not looking forward to scooting under another car since the vibrations from the marble to the liquid engorging my bladder is going to be worse than before. It’ll be hellish, but when the next car needs its wheel bearings checked, I volunteer and slide under it, a shudder of want coursing through me, causing me to clutch at the undercarriage so hard that I slice my hand open. I fucking love it. My eyes roll back and I know I groan; I hope no one hears me. 

       I’m locked into a belt which keeps a stone replica of my cock locked in my ass with a plug locked in my caged penis. I’m a whore in the middle of all these men that I’ve worked with for years, and right now, I’d drop to my knees and suck any one of them if they’d offer to take an allen wrench to my penis plug and just let me piss. There are allen wrenches everywhere, but no one knows why I keep looking at them so longingly.

       At one point, Jon, another of the guys I work with, asks if I need a metric set or something. Apparently, I seem upset; he offers to slide under with me and see if he can help. A blush burns my face as I refuse.

       When 12:45 comes around, I make a beeline for my boss’s office to tell him that I’m taking my lunch. He asks me to wait for Perez to get back and my eyes bug out. However, before I can argue, the man in question walks through the door and I’m dismissed for an hour. I sprint to my truck, clenching my teeth to keep silent. Rudy tries to ambush me, but I side-step him and jump in my truck, turning up the music as though I hadn’t heard him. I head for home praying that my eyes won’t pop before I’m allowed relief. I pull into the driveway at 1:03 and practically run to the door, not bothering to repress my moans. Unlocking it, my wife meets me in the foyer.

       “Please, Milady, please!” I beg falling to my knees in front of her, door still open, tears falling down my cheeks.

       She presses a finger to my lips. “No talking. Strip, and go cook. You may wear your apron while cooking,” she says before closing the door.

       I whimper pathetically, and her eyes laugh at me. “There, there. I’m sure you need to go, but that can wait a little longer. We haven’t had a lunch date in ages!”

       I nod, trying not to cry. I need to go! She’s right though. I used to come home and cook for her all the time, when we were dating. But I’d only worked part-time then, so it had been easier.

       Crawling into the kitchen, I pant with want. Eventually, I have to stand to take the apron from the wall; I yowl as my prostrate is violated for the hundredth time today. Calming, I slide the apron over my head and tie it in the back; it’s pink and black with cherry blossoms and ruffles. She’d bought it for me for our six month anniversary. I like girly things sometimes, and she uses it too. But I do most of the cooking. Looking at the ingredients set upon the counter, I find everything I’ll need for shrimp scampi. I sigh; that’ll take at least twenty minutes!

       Looking at the stove, I might be in luck. Milady’d put a pot of water on to boil. I turn it up and crank up a burner to sauté the shrimp over. She comes in behind me and presses her fully clothed body against my back, one arm snaking around my waist to give me a squeeze. I sob and clutch the edge of the stove, my knees weak, head light. She laughs in my ear, tonguing it slowly. A shiver wracks my body causing the cock in me to shift and grind into the bundle of nerves deep inside me. Gasping, I try to stir the shrimp before they stick or burn. She presses her pelvis against my ass, embedding the intruder deeper until I drop the wooden spoon, a whore-worthy moan bubbling from me.

She stays there, tormenting me further as I cook. The water boils within five minutes, and I add the pasta hoping her ministrations won’t cause me to mess anything up. She sways her hips to a song in her head, a random bar hummed here and there as she moves me with her, moving the cock inside me in slow, sensuous circles. She’ll never rush. It’s all I can do to concentrate on my task as her painted lips wonder down my neck to my too sensitive shoulders. She nips me and I jump; the cock banging around inside me. I whimper as I struggle to finish the meal. It’s ready in fifteen minutes, but her caresses make it feel much longer.

       She releases her hold on me and heads to the table when I set the pans aside, away from the burners. I bring the food out to find her waiting, sipping at her ever-present tea. I kneel, kiss her feet, and keen as pathetically as I can for release. The need for food is forgotten in my desperate want for relief. She sighs and stands, motioning for me do the same. She takes the allen wrench from the table and ducks down to unlock my penis plug. My eyes roll back as it turns halfway again; I nearly knock over the meal as the pleasure washes over me. She doesn’t pull it out though. She presses my hand to it.

       “Go relieve yourself and wash up. You have five minutes.”

       I run, the marble dong banging against my prostate with every step; I can’t stop the sounds from erupting out of me. Once I’m seated on the toilet, because I have to sit with this cock cage on in order to urinate, I ease the long plug out; my hand catches a load of precum and piss, but I don’t care. I moan like a cheap whore as it gushes out of me, nearly orgasmic after being denied so long. The utter pleasure makes my vision go white; I’m glad I’m seated as my head lolls back yet again. I feel a little feint as I try to stand. The action reminds me quickly that I’m not empty yet. My ass is still very nicely filled and stretched. Flushing, I turn to wash my hands and the plug. There’s no lube in the bathroom and my fluids had been flushed out with the urine, so I can’t insert it myself.

       I bring it to Milady and whimper upon seeing a small black bottle on the table. She takes it from me with a frightening smirk. I lean back against the couch since I don’t want to risk overturning the table and I know I’ll need the support. She dries the flexible plug with a Kleenex before dipping it into the bottle, so that it’s not even the slightest bit diluted. Approaching me, I whine, knowing how awfully good this is going to hurt. The tip touches my slit and I hiss. The burn has begun. She slowly slides it back inside me as I fight the urge to rip it from me. When she turns it to lock it in place, I see stars and fall to my knees.

       Ginger oil is naturally antibacterial and slightly slick, so it only makes an okay lube. Most people who have any sense would use surgical lube on a urethral plug, but surgical lube doesn’t have the added benefit of burning. Ginger oil has a chemical reaction which causes a mild tingling sensation on normal skin, but on the thin skin of the genitals or anus, it burns pleasantly for about twenty minutes. So I’ll spend the rest of my lunch break in this torturous pleasure, my hips bucking in hope of dislodging the plug and inadvertently pounding my ass on the marble cock.

       Tears prick my eyes and fall to the floor as Milady returns to the table.

       “Come eat,” she says. “Before it gets cold.”

       I crawl to her side where there’s a bowl on the floor again but no silverware. I look up and she smiles that evil leer again, a pair of handcuffs in her hand. I put my hands in place and the cold metal wrings another delightful shiver from me. I’m nearly out of my head with pleasure by this point.

       “Eat,” she says, twirling a noodle on her fork. I stick my face down into the bowl as my hips rock and writhe. I’m sure I’m making all kinds of amusing noises for her, but I can’t even think about that. Between the ginger and the marble, I feel like I’m going to die. My mind is her toy. Eventually, I feel her fingers trailing down my spine.

       “You’ll need to be leaving soon, darling,” she says standing.

       I kneel up, eyes snapped shut in the face of so much stimulation. Soon enough I feel a wet cloth on my face. It’s gentle and warm and I wish it were lower. My cock feels like it’s going to explode. I pant as she wipes away the evidence of my meal. She finger-combs my hair before uncuffing me.

       “Get dressed,” she says.

       My thoughts are still a mile above us as I fly on the pleasure-pain mix, so I do as I’m told, even lacing my boots back on as she puts the dishes in the sink. My stomach’s full and my bladder’s empty.

       A searing kiss brings me back somewhat. “You’d better go,” she says. “It’s 12:37.”

       My eyes bug out, my high being knocked down a bit more.

       “You spent eleven minutes in the bathroom.” She smiles angelically as I continue to stare. “Don’t worry, you’ll be punished for it.”

       Nodding mutely, I turn for the door to suffer the rest of my day: locked, fucked, and loving it. The burning is only beginning to fade. I love my wife, the lady of my soul.