Song of the Night Bird
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Song Of The Caged Bird free porn video
Song of the Caged Bird
As I walked through the sliding glass doors, the first thing I thought
was that I wasn't adult enough to be in this store.
I mean, I'm 26 years old, but for crying out loud, I still watched
cartoons on Saturdays. I still liked Cocoa Puffs. I still played video
games.
So what was I doing at Flesh and Fantasies, the adult entertainment
store?
Well, except for feeling embarrassed just to be in the place?
Oh, if you want to know the truth, I was here with Mary-Anne, my
girlfriend who was, like, much more mature than I was. We had been
dating for a year, and yes, we were having sex. It was terrific. At
least, I thought so.
From the way she talked, she knew all about stores like this with their
movies and their toys and their pornography. Me? Most days, you'd have
to give me a penicillin shot just to get me inside.
Hell, I didn't even like parking outside. I was convinced that a busload
of my closest friends would drive by, and my mom would be right behind
with a carload of nuns. I imagined hookers in the hallway and glory
holes in the bathrooms and sleazy clerks with canker sores. I imagined
flashers in overcoats and magazines with all the pages stuck together.
And what it was, pretty much, was Wal-Mart.
The place was brightly lit, and it was clean and roomy, and the woman
behind the counter was a pretty brunette with freckles. A few shoppers
milled around the movie aisle, checking out the titles and chuckling.
"Backside to the Future" was one. "Brokebutt Mountain" was another.
I followed Mary-Anne into the room, and she picked up a pair of
handcuffs with pink fluff around them. She looked and me and grinned. "I
wonder if these come in your size," she said. I felt the blood rush to
my face. "Put that down, please," I said.
"Grow up," she said.
She moved down the first aisle, and we passed a long glass counter to
our right. There were penises on it. Really. Long, rubber penises of
every length and girth. Mary-Anne picked up a black one. She weighed in
her hand. "Did you notice?" she said. "The black ones are bigger." She
giggled and put it back.
We passed a wall filled with whips. We passed a display at ball-gags.
"This is the clothing section," Mary-Anne said. "Let me know if you see
anything you like."
I blushed again. In that area, tHere were pink boas and leather corsets.
There were maid's dresses in colors that Crayola hadn't thought of.
There was lingerie under a sign that said, "Yes, we carry men's sizes."
There were masks and a nurse's uniform. But the thing that stood out to
me was all the clothing in leather. Rhinestone-studded bras. Long
dresses. Pants suits. Collars and leashes.
"Do people really wear this?" I whispered to Mary-Anne.
She laughed. "What do you think pays the light bill?" she said. "There's
a lot of money to be made in kink. People pay for their pleasures."
There was a suit of armor in the corner. What was that about? There were
entire shelves of various lubricants, of multi-colored condoms and
edible underwear. There were vibrators and oils and something called a
"penis pump." There were strap-on harnesses. There were more dildos -
the Squirter and the Whopper and the Satisfyer and the Pleaser. There
were buttplugs and nipple suckers and anal beads.
Imagine a Quaker from the 18th century dropped off at Disney World.
That's what I felt like. I felt like the rube who just fell off the
turnip truck. There were devices I didn't know existed. There were fake
vaginas and o-rings and dental dams. There were butt-plus in individual
serving sizes and family mealsI. I turned to Mary-Anne and said "I bet
they sell a lot of batteries."
She scowled at me. A store filled with erotica, I assumed, was not
something to joke about.
I wondered how many times Mary-Anne had been in Flesh and Fantasies, and
just what she might have purchased. Maybe a latex dress? Maybe the
fishnet stockings? Or (gulp) maybe that menacing looking dildo by the
cash register.
"Are you two just looking?" the brunette cashier said. "Or did you have
a particular toy in mind?"
"Oh, you have such wonderful things," Mary-Anne said. "It's like the
Joker said when he asked where Batman got such wonderful toys. I bet he
got them here."
The cashier laughed. "Hi," she said. "I'm Angie."
"Mary-Anne. This is Nick."
"So what can I fix you up with. We've got some new maid's dresses if
your girlfriend is looking. And our heels are half-priced. She would
look cute."
"No, thank you," I stammered. But Mary-Anne just glared at me, as if I
wasn't supposed to join the conversation. I shut up.
"Here's what I had in mind," Mary-Anne said. "Do you have one of those
things that fits over the guy's thing? That controls him."
Angie brightened. "You mean a chastity belt," she said. "A cock cage.
We've got lots of those. Follow me."
We went to another glass display case -- I lagged behind the two of them
-- and Angie unlocked it. "You guys want to look, or can I answer any
questions?" she said.
Mary-Anne was mesmerized by the Chastity choices. There we're metal
cylinders and plastic ones of various sizes. There were pink and blue.
There were very large contraptions and a very small ones. Mary-Anne kept
picking models up, as if to test the weight and the heft and the shape.
"Angie, tell me about the pink one here."
"Well, that's a very popular model. When a lot of women lock their
boyfriends or husbands away, they like the pink. It reminds the wearer
that his woman has put in in the cage. If it was me, I'd buy the pink
and make him wear panties over it. It's especially emasculating."
"Now, wait a minute ..."
Mary-Anne glared at me again. I stopped talking.
"What does it come with?" she asked.
"Well, two keys," Angie said. "That way, you can keep one and lock the
other away for safe-keeping. You get lubricant. And you get a vey, very
obedient boyfriend. He will roll over, and he will play fetch. Whatever
you want."
I stared at Mary-Anne. She could not be considering this. I would not
stand for it. A man's cock is supposed to dangle free. That's the way
God intended. I wondered: Is there are lawyer who could keep my dick out
of jail?
"Can we try on an extra-small one?" Mary-Anne said.
* * *
All the way, I kept looking at my crotch and imagining the monstrosity
under my jeans. Mary-Anne had bought the pink one -- a CB something-or-
other -- and Angie had helped her put it on me right in the store's
dressing room. Two women handling my penis sounds like fun. It wasn't.
A ring here. A spacer there. Some pins. The tube here. And my penis was
doing hard time. Wait. My penis was doing not-so-hard time.
I felt the onset of a panic attack. There was nothing to assure that
Mary-Anne wouldn't keep me caged for a week. A month. A year. I had no
say. My poor, abused dick just lay there, limp and abandoned. It was as
if someone had taken a bicycle lock and put it on my dingle.
"Mary-Anne," I said softly, trying to be as non-confrontational as
possible. "Please let me out of this thing."
She look at me, irritated.
"Nick, here's what you don't get," she said. "This makes sex better, not
worse. It makes you appreciate it when I let you have an erection. The
anticipation, I hear, is delicious. It's like a great movie. There is
all of this build-up, and then there is the climax. So to speak. Well,
you'll get a climax, too."
"What if I just promise I won't touch it? I'll take a vow. Would that
work?"
She laughed loudly. "Yeah, guys can be trusted," she said. "I'm sure a
guy has never thought to touch his cock before. Not once. That won't
work, Nick. You've had your right hand as a lover for too long. We'll do
it my way."
"But hasn't Thumper always been good to you?" I whined.
"You mean Tom Thumb? He's a nice little dick, I admit. He likes me more
than he likes you, you know. Wait until I free him. He'll really like
me.""
"He's not so little," I said feebly.
"Well, he isn't a Louisville Slugger, either," Mary-Anne said."Hell, if
I had thought about it, I could have just stapled on a bottle cap and
saved the money."
I stared out the car window. I felt my cock cage. I watched the trees
flash by. I felt my cock cage. Mary-Anne put a Rhianna CD on. I felt my
cock cage. We passed a McDonald's. I felt my cock cage. We came upon
road construction. I felt my cock cage. I sat to pee. I felt my cock
cage.
Every mile, I felt it. Every turn. Every bump in every road. I was the
most miserable man in Cincinnati, and I had the most miserable dick.
"Honey, brighten up," Mary-Anne said. "We're almost through the day.
Only six more to go, and you get a get-out-of-jail free card. Won't that
be fun?"
I felt like crying.
* * *
The next morning, we were still in bed. Mary-Anne threw the comforter
off of me and grinned.
She leaned in, as if my cage was a microphone. "Hi, Casey," she said.
"I'd like to say hi to Bob and Marie and all the gang at Pops."
I frowned, but I didn't say anything.
"Gee," Mary-Anne said. "Can you get Armed Forces radio in this?"
I stared ahead.
"I ... am .... Iron... Man," she sang.
I got out of bed and left the room. I didn't want to wallow in self-
pity, but...wait. Yes, I did. I wanted all the self-pity I could claim.
I went into the bathroom. I took a hand-held mirror and I examined my
groin. I tugged this way and pulled that way, but it did not give. I
tapped on the cage. I flicked the lock. I tried to move it. It felt like
there was a toaster oven on my dick.
Mary-Anne walked into the bathroom and saw me handling myself. But
instead of getting angry, she smiled. "A prisoner always has to test the
cell door, doesn't he?" she said. "Just tell Mr. Limpy to be patient.
His sentence will be up soon."
"Mary-Anne, please," I said. "This is just mean. You don't mess with a
guy's cock."
"Well, I do," she said. "And if you piss me off, I might mess with
someone else's, too. I might even make you watch. There are a lot of
bigger dicks out there, sugar."
That stung. Mary-Anne has never cheated on me -- not that I knew of,
anyway -- but now she was threatening to find herself a cowboy, and I
couldn't even get my pistol out of its holster.
She tossed me a pair of pink panties. "Angie at the store said those
went well with the cage," she said. "Try them on."
I didn't say anything. I started to put them on. Then an idea came to
me.
"Mary-Anne, if you want, I'll dress in drag for you. I really will. I'll
wear a dress. I'll go out wearing handcuffs. I'll march in the Pride
parade. That'll humiliate me. You'll like that. Just uncage me."
Mary-Anne grinned.
"Nick. Nicki," she said. "You're trying to trade things I already own.
If I say so, you'll wear a Prom dress and dance at the Mall. You'll wear
shackles and high heels. You'll hold hands with an ugly man as you walk
into church. I'll go to your workplace and spank you in front of God and
everybody. I'm in charge now. I control the penis, and I control the
rest of you. Understand?"
I understood. My cock wasn't doing anything, but the rest of me was
fucked. There was a cold streak in Mary-Anne that I hadn't been aware
of.As soon as that locked snapped shut, Mary-Anne had changed. Me, too.
My dick was starring in a prison movie. It was Like from Cool Hand Luke.
It was Andy from the Shawshank Redemption. It was Paul from The Longest
Yard.
Mary-Anne?
She was the warden.
* * *
More than anything, the next week was filled with her teasing me. One of
our friends would say something about a third down call, and Mary-Anne
would respond "Well, that takes brass balls." Someone would mention the
armed services, and she would say "I like living in the land of the
free, don't you, Nicki?" Or "Let's war has Netflix. Has everyone seen
Luke Cafe?"
There was never a moment I was allowed to not think about the
contraption enclosing my penis. There was never a moment where I was
sure she would not tell people about it.
One night, at dinner, she brought up the subject of the American penal
system. She said she felt sorry for all of those who were jailed. She
talked about prisons and cages and being trapped. About guard abuse and
jailhouse sex and guys doing hard time and it was all a metaphor for my
situation. She cared about cock, not convicts.
It had been three days now since was jailed. Mary-Anne had taken to
talking to my penis, to scraping her fingernails over the outside of the
tube. Do you know those pet stores where the puppies are locked into
those cages that are too small? That was me.
Evidently, Mary-Anne missed sex, too. But she could make up for it.
She'd climb all over me in bed, then work her way up. Her boobs were in
my face. Then her belly. Finally, she straddled my head and grinded her
vagina into my face. I licked, because I liked oral sex, but the hotter
the action became, the more pressure I felt from my cage.
After she came, we showered. It was the most intimate moment we had had
in days. It was as if we loved each other all over again. I whispered
that she should unlock me. She reached over to the counter and showed me
my key, on a gold chain that went around her neck.
"Unlock you with this?" she said.
"Yes," I said.
"So you can fuck me?" she said.
"God, yes," I said.
"So you can spew your come all inside me."
"It'll be good," I said.
"And you can get it on my belly and my face?" she said.
"Please," I said.
"And then you can lick it off?"
"What?"
"And then, you can imagine it's someone else's sperm. Someone with a
big, throbbing cock."
"I didn't say that."
"Then you can put your panties back on so you can show your mommy?"
"No, Mary-Anne.
"So what you're telling me is that you want me to unlock you so you can
imagine you're blowing a guy and sucking his sperm while your mother
watches."
"No, Mary-Anne. You're twisting my words."
"Oh, cherry-pie. If you want to suck a dick, you're going to have to ask
nicely. I always do."
"I don't want ..."
She laughed. And she walked out of the room.
***
The next day, Mary-Anne wanted to talk about lesbians. She said she was
considering signing up.
"Why not?" she said. "I feel like one now. My boyfriend doesn't have a
dick. He just eats me. I can have that with a woman golfer."
She looked at me and shook her head.
"Nicki, what's the difference between a boy and a girl?" she asked.
"Huh?"
"The difference in a boy and a girl. What does a boy puppy have that a
girl puppy doesn't? Or a boy duck? Or a boy gerbil?"
"They have a penis?"
"Exactly. They have a penis. Now, Nicky, do you have a penis?"
"Not really," I mumbled.
"It's in the phantom zone," she said. "That's funny, girlfriend. But
you're a girl now. You may never get free. I'd adjust if I were you.
You'll learn to love dick. Trust me."
Later that day, she said she had lost a key. She made a fuss looking
frantically for it, scaring me to death. But she had it all along. She
was, well, yanking my chain.
A little later, she unnerved me again.
"So what happens if I get hit by a truck?" she asked. "How do you get it
off?"
"A doctor, I guess," I said. "Maybe a locksmith."
"Well wouldn't that be embarrassing? 'Oh, Doc. I have a mousetrap on my
cock. Got a crowbar?"
She laughed. And I shrank a little more. At this pace, no one would have
to remove it. Imy dick would just fade away.
* * *
Every day, her mood got better. Even day, my mood darkened.
If someone tells you that you get used to having their sex locked away
in a vise, they're lying. You can't eat. You can't sleep. You can't
watch television. You can't listen to music.
I still had dizzy spells. My palms sweated. My guts were in a knot, so
hard that Mary-Anne suggested I must be on my period. I woke in a cold
sweat during the night. I feared developing a rash. I feared permanent
damage. I feared growing a vagina.
It was then that Mary-Anne started to show me the pictures. Soft porn
that got harder. (I wish I could say that about my cock). There were
lesbians, kissing passionately (ouch). There were guys giving each other
blow jobs (Not as ouch, but not comfortable, either). There were black
guys taking blondes from the rear (major ouch). There were women
convicts and strippers with other strippers and men going down on woman
(ouch, ouch, ouch).
Mary-Annie liked teasing me, because she knew it was uncomfortable.
That was a big thing with her. The less I was comfortable, the more she
walked around the apartment humming.
There was the feminization. She started that in midweek. I was docile by
then, meek. And with the threat of additional time, I went along with
it.
For days, I had been in panties. But she added a bra to the ensemble.
She applied makeup. She put a wig on my head and heels on my feet. Every
time I tried to stop her, she laughed. She added breast forms and had my
ears pierced. Hell, she didn't want me to be a girl, not really. She
just knew it humiliated me. That was the goal, wasn't it?
Why didn't I say no to women's clothing? Because my dick was serving
time. I would do anything to get free. Wear panties. Whatever. I choked
up,when I thought of not getting out on time.
She made me shave my legs. She had me do chores in the house. She had
me dress as a maid. It was as if she stayed up nights thinking of ways
to humiliate me. She started inviting friends and co-workers over. My
sister. Her brother.
And you know what? Compared to the cage, it was all kiddie stuff. I
could take my sister seeing me in heels. I could take her brother seeing
me in lipstick.
Just take the damn cage off, okay?
* * *
There were only a couple of more days to go when Mary-Anne floated the
idea of extending my sentence. She was full of anticipation, she said,
and if we waited until Tuesday or Wednesday -- maybe Friday -- it would
just be that much better. Wouldn't it?
I cried when she told me that. I don't mind saying it. I was becoming
more and more of a sissy as the days rolled past. Hell, if I didn't get
paroled soon, I was going to start growing breasts.
At lunch, Mary-Anne looked at face closely. "What's that in your eye,
Nicole?" she said. "Why, I think it's sperm floating around. You must
really be backed up."
"Ha," I said.
"Of course, it might not be your sperm. Have you got a back-door man,
Nicole?"
"You know I don't," I said.
"You want one?" she said. "That cage doesn't plug up anything in your
ass, you know. You can lift those cheeks to the ceiling and feel that
delicious flesh sliding in and sliding out. You know, it hurts at first,
but then the nerve endings take over, and you feel like Brad Pitt is
knocking at the door. Your booty will thank you."
"Please stop it, Mary-Anne."
"I'm serious. I'd love to see you buttfucked. You might decide to keep
your cock caged and out of the way forever. I mean, look at you. You're
in a fucking dress, and women's underwear, and makeup. You're the
biggest sissy there ever was, just because we put your dick on the shelf
for a week. What a gaywad."
I couldn't believe it. All I had done to go along with her plans. Now
she was calling me names and suggesting I wanted gay sex.
"Don't you love me?" I asked her.
"I did, back when you were a man," she said. "But you just caved once
the penis was padlocked. It was just a few days in the cage. You act
like you're in prison ... on the chain gang. I really think you'll end
up as somebody's wife."
I thought about it. Would gay sex be better than chastity? No, don't
think like that. Be strong. Or at least, as strong as you can be.
I looked at my crotch again. I felt faint. I felt weak. I felt like a
pussy.
* *
For all of her talk about cheating, I suppose Mary-Anne was missing sex,
too. She was getting shorter with me. She was mean.
She told me one day that she had been back to see Angie at the adult
novelty store. She purchased handcuffs and a mask, a butt plug and a
dildo. She asked if I'd rather have my lipstick tattooed on or a tramp
stamp that said "sissy boi." I took "Sissy boi."
She asked if I would rather have a collar and leash or a ball gag. I
took the collar and leash.
She had me pick between a butt plug and a dollop. I took the butt plug.
"Great," she said. "I get the dildo. I'm gonna make a woman out of you,"
after all."
It was psychological warfare. Every hour, there was the threat of sex
... usually with a guy. She kept saying I had two weeks to go. Then
three.
"As long as you don't have a dick," Mary-Anne said, "you should learn
about life without one?" She force fed me pink pills, saying it was
estrogen. She had my ears pierced, and my tongue. She put a nice wave in
my hair. She talked about SRS.
It was cruel. She kept thinking of ways to emasculate me. She threaten
to make me a prostitute. She was going to bring home a college
basketball team. She had me try on lipstick at the mall.
I was dying inside.
***
On Saturday, Mary-Anne seemed ready to give me a final push.
We dressed up -- I wore a little black dress and black heels. My makeup
was flawless -- and went to dinner. Afterward, we made our way downtown
to Smokey's, a crowded bae near the river. The sign said that The Ohio
Thunder Review was performing. A male stripper show.
Mary-Anne gave the bouncer her name, and we were escorted to a small
side room. Mary-Anne ordered champagne.
I sat there, scared and nervous. Soon, a tall blond man came into the
room. He had long hair and swollen muscles.
He started to dance, as if he and I were the only two people in the
room. His crotch was close enough to my face to hit my nose. We were in
a private room, so he felt comfortable enough to pull down his tiny
shorts. His cock bounced free.
"Taste it," Mary-Anne said.
His dick was inches from my lips, long and hard. It bounced there, and I
felt my lips part. Why not, I thought. I leaned forward. His penis was a
centimeter from my mouth. I braced myself.
And then Mary-Anne had me by the wrist, and we rushed through the crowd
and out the door. She was walking quickly. She was angry.
"You were going to do it, you fag," Mary-Anne seethed. "You cocksucker.
You were going to let him come in your mouth! Like a common slut. I
should have let you."
"...but I didn't."
"You would have. That's just as bad. You were ready to suck his dick.
Probably other dicks, too. Well, next time, I'll let you!"
I wept. I curled into the corner of the back seat. I shook.
How could I ever recover from this?
***
The next morning, I was doing the dishes when Mary-Anne came into the
kitchen. She asked for a toasted egg sandwich and poured herself a cup
of coffee. I made the food silently. I was beaten.
"How you doing, dickless?" she asked. She didn't seem as angry as the
night before. "Don't forget, you have to iron the sheets and clean the
bathrooms today."
I nodded. I still said nothing. I was still shell-shocked from the night
before.
"If you have time, I'd like to have chicken pasta tonight. You'll have
to go to the store. And get some Texas Toast."
I nodded again.
She smiled.
"And Nicole...after you do the toilets, and. you iron the sheets, and
you vacuum, and you polish my heels..."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, I finally said.
"Then it'll be time to unlock you and have sex."
I stopped. I was stunned.
"Let's see if it still works," she said. "Thumper unleashed! It's time
for a jailbreak."
I looked at her as if she was joking. Her grin told me she was not. You
cannot imagine the freedom I felt.
"Really?"
"Really."
I fell at her feet and kissed her hands. I wept. I felt like such as
ass, not because of the way I was dressed or my lipstick. But because
there was a door at the end of the hallway, and it was going to open.
I did my chores. I cleaned and I cooked. I bathed and shaved my legs. I
put on a clean dress.
And then, after dinner, Mary-Anne reached down and unlocked me. And you
could have heard the click for miles. It was a sonic boom. I sprang up,
erect at once.
And you know something?
The sex was delicious. All that waiting, all that wondering, it really
was amazing. We fit together. All the suggestions she might sleep with
someone else, or make me. All the feminizing. All the waiting. All the
denials. I was a lion. I was a bull.
This is why men allow themselves to be caged, I thought. Because of the
building desire. Because of the commitment to one's partner. It's like a
banquet after a strict diet.
I came like a churning river. I loved Mary-Anne like it was my heart
that had been in chastity.
When it was over, we lay, intertwined. She kissed me.
"All better? she said.
"All better," I said.
"Worth it?"
"Oh, yes."
"Forgive me for making life tough on you?"
"Yes."
Mary-Anne smiled. The she gazed into my eyes.
"Good. This time, do you want to go for 10 days?"
Copyright, Cassandra Morgan
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