Conquered Manhood

Twas the night before Chastemas, and all thru the place Not one cock was stirring, not even a trace; The undies were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that The Keyholder soon would be there; The bitch-boys were nestled all snug in their  beds, While rock hard erections danced in their heads And me, bound and gagged with a dirty jock strap, Had just settled my brain for a long winter's nap When outside I heard someone pumping the bass I sprang from the bed and fell flat on my face Away to the windows, which were all painted shut I pulled them so hard, the plug fell out my butt The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow, Made me totally regret that I’d given up blow. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a sensible Hyundai and eight thirsty queers. With a hot shirtless driver, so lively and quick, I knew in my gut, he had the key to my dick. More rapid than eagles his harem they came And he whistled, and shout...

Masturbation is not a right. It’s a privilege. And privileges (like tiny padlock keys) are easily lost. There will come a time when he will command you to strip down and expose your shame. They’ll see your pathetic limp dick in its unyielding cage. They’ll pity the boy who can’t touch himself, who can’t cum. They’ll stare at it and remember it when they wake the next morning to full throbbing erections - unimpeded, and unbroken. They’ll touch themselves, stroking and teasing towards an effortless and immaculate climax.   And as the smell of their own cum wafts up from their heaving abdomen, they’ll remember that desperate look in your eye.  Your cheeks flushed with humiliation. Your balls, boiling with unreleased cum. Your dick, dulled to the touch.   And they’ll realize how hopelessly horny you must always be as that prison between your legs weighs down on what remains of your conquered manhood.

Does he know what it’s doing to me? This cage. How humiliating it is to know I’ve relinquished the use of my dick for his amusement? All I can think about is his cock, every time I look down at the uncomfortable predicament in my pants. I ache for his pleasure - constantly imagining myself worshiping his groin, and swallowing his cum. Hourly or more. All in hopes of convincing him that maybe I deserve my dick back. Before it gets worse… Does he care if it’s shrinking me? Do I care? I should - it’s my fucking dick! The single most powerful symbol of manhood. But I don’t know if I’m allowed to care? My beautiful cock, it’s been so long now. So many months of stifled erections and cramped quarters. I feel the change. It used to draw a second glance from straight jocks in the locker room. It was big. I could barely wear some shorts. Alone In bed, I’d slowly tease it to a massive explosion covering my stomach with thick white spunk. But now it’s just pathetic, locked and tamed, l...

He told me he wanted to see my dick - he heard it was big. I’d had the request before. It starts out with “lemme see it”, then quickly becomes, “let me see you jerk it” Then the guy watches me, transfixed until the thirst becomes too much for him and finally he asks “can I suck you off?”  All pretense disappears at that moment. He’s at his most pathetic - well almost. If I say “nah, I’m not into that shit” - THAT’s his most pathetic. He’s either forced to beg for a mouthful of my cum or just give up all together. Either choice makes him a total fag.  But this guy was holding out on me. He wanted to see me jack off, but he wasn’t going the extra step. He couldn’t gather the nerve to ask, I assumed. Meanwhile, I was getting closer and closer to cumming. I edged myself, drawing it out, hoping he’d give in and just fucking ask. I was hovering on the brink when finally I broke the silence. “I’m really close man, I’m gonna fucking cum!” I didn’t even look up, I was mesmerize...