Inverted Chastity Cage Novels & Stories

No excuses. The elevator opened into a dimly lit basement level that looked more like a private sex dungeon than storage. Concrete floors, exposed beams, heavy metal hooks and frames bolted to the walls and ceiling. In the center stood a sturdy wooden breeding stand—padded leather top, adjustable height, with thick leather cuffs dangling from the sides and a bar at the back for spreading my legs. My pulse kicked up. This was where they planned to break me in.

Her eyes were dark and commanding. “Inside,” she said softly. The moment the door closed, she pushed him against it and kissed him with bruising intensity. “Tonight I’m not just going to fuck you,” she whispered. “Tonight I’m going to offer you something real. Something permanent.” She led him to the bedroom and pushed him onto the bed. From a drawer, she pulled out a heavy, permanent metal chastity cage , thicker and more secure than anything he had worn before. “This is what I’m offering you,” she said, holding it up. “Permanent chastity. No more orgasms unless I allow it. Stricter protocols. Daily denial. Complete mental ownership. You would belong to me in ways Mirabel and Mitchelle coul

The second night in the penthouse was really quiet. Alex spent the day at Vale Tower trying to act like everything was okay while the security teams checked the building and the penthouse for hidden cameras. They found two cameras in the living room air vents. They were put in there by a pro. Rowan got really mad. He made them change all the locks and put in new security systems before the sun went down.. Even with all the changes the feeling of being violated still hung in the air.

His tiny caged cock, locked in a pink steel chastity cage for four straight months now, leaked constantly whenever she even whispered about her plans. It was Cindy’s 29th birthday. She had rented out the entire top floor of an exclusive rooftop club in Manhattan that catered to the city’s most discreet high-end swingers and kink community. The venue had a glass-walled penthouse suite overlooking the skyline, complete with a large circular bed platform in the center, multiple couches, a fully stocked bar, and a raised stage area with spotlights.

And there were chains — some hanging down in loops, others coiled neatly on racks like Saint had just organized them. My eyes darted to the far side, where a massive wooden X stood bolted to the floor and ceiling. The leather straps dangling from each corner glistened under the dim, amber light overhead. Across from it stood a tall steel cage. It was empty, but its door hung open like an invitation I'd never accept.

I touched the bars of the cage and tested their strength. “It’s made of the strongest metal and other components. Even with my strength, I couldn’t bend it. This cage was made specifically for someone like me. I’m pretty sure they’re traders, Empress, and they’re going to sell us to a slave planet—or worse, a pleasure house.” “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been thinking… Does it have a lock?” She nodded, and I moved toward the cage door. I saw a digital padlock with a small slot.

NIGHT SIX: The Cage and the Marathon Victor didn’t even let her wake up fully from her sleep. He grabbed her by the throat, marched her naked across the penthouse, and shoved her into a steel cage built dead center under the brightest lights. The cage was small like four feet square, the bars were thick and the floor padded in black leather already stained from the previous nights. A single steel pole rose from the middle with cuffs at different heights. A ring gag waited on a hook.

He knelt on the bedroom floor, wrists bound behind his back with soft leather cuffs, the chain between them short enough to keep his arms pinned and useless. The tiny chastity cage squeezed his cock mercilessly, the metal bars digging into his pale skin as he tried to shift for comfort. She had locked it on him two weeks ago, and every day since had been a slow torment of denial, his dick straining against the confines whenever she walked into the room.

At long last, Clara began to orgasm, rubbing her moist and happy sex against Shamira's face while her body shook gently. "About time," she muttered, not at all unhappy but not willing to admit it. "Stay," she commanded again. She got out of her chair and went over to the shadows, grabbing one of her favorite toys. Shamira watched as Clara brought some kind of cage over to the center of the room. There was a rubber floor on it to prevent knees and hands from getting torn up, and a hole in one end that was framed with two semi-circular pieces of iron that seemed to be mounted on tracks. Clara opened up one end of the cage.

Frigid, it chilled every exhalation into thin clouds of mist as he breathed. Approaching the person bound in the center of the room, Cazer walked over the inscriptions of the magic cage on the floor. His presence prompting a soft clink, the links of their chains shifted slightly. Made of heavy iron they draped from the floors and walls of the cell, limiting the prisoner’s movement.