It’s late. You get out of your car in the parking lot of a suburban apartment complex. There’s a warm swelling sensation in your chest and you can’t help but smile as the passenger side door opens. Black leather and steel-toed boots with hot pink laces step over the pavement. The punky stylings match your date’s leather jacket and three-ring ear piercing, clashing with his naturally white and pink fur color. The chains from his outfit jostle as he gets out, and as he turns with a smile you notice the black striped crop top over his chest, accenting the black studded belt and matching hot pants he wore for the evening. 


“I had a great time tonight,” says Pallas. The sylveon saunters over to you, his finger dragging across the hood of your car, then boops your nose. “Did you?” 


You nod, but before you can voice why Pallas seizes an opportunity and locks lips. It’s a soft kiss, no tongue but the craving is there. You can tell by how tight his hands hold your jacket, how he pulls you in despite being half a foot shorter. Unless you count the ears, but ears are never a fair fight for height. 


Soft blue eyes hook you in as he breaks away. “You know, we don’t have to end right now,” he says, curling a finger through one of his floating streamers, “My roommates are out of town for the weekend. Gives us both privacy to do, well, I don’t think I need to spell it out for you, do I?”


You don’t so much nod as you fall forward, forcing Pallas to catch you with a laugh. “Ok, ok. Geez, someone’s excited. Luckily for you I enjoy excited pups.” He leads you to his apartment by latching his arm around your waist. You get the feeling that, if you really wanted to, you could break away. Pallas knows it too, and the way he looks at you says he knows you won’t break away. You’re happy to let him take charge.


Not two steps into his apartment and your back is against the wall. His lips embrace you in another kiss, this one with his tongue slipping through for conquest. His breath surges to your lungs, fueling your desire and making your jeans tighter. His paws at your crotch, kneading his knuckles against the growing erection as he breaks his kiss with one soft bite and pull of your lower lip. 


Then he undoes your belt, allowing his fingers to slip under the waistband. Your gasp, shuddering at the soft taps against your cockhead. “Don’t think I didn’t notice this earlier?” Pallas whispers, pulling the zipper down before stroking your rod. “How you grinded this against me on the dance floor. How you hunched over when I played footsie under the table. How hard was it when my boot pressed against it, hmm? Did you like getting trampled?”


You nod, hands holding the wall as if fearful to fall. The sylveon laughs softly. “Good. Maybe later I’ll give you a better taste. But first, I need to dig in.”


Through no small feat, he pushes you over a couch. You flop haphazardly, earning a snicker from your host as you try to compose yourself. What balance you get is shunted aside when the sylveon kicks your legs open and plops down between them, right where your cock stands before his face.


A delicate hand pumps it to one side as his tongue lathers it. From the base to the tip he tastes it all, suckling the head upon reaching it. He locks eyes with you while he works, and for a moment you consider grabbing his head and forcing him down. You’re just about to, hand hovering over his skull ready to face fuck the greedy slut. But you stop, watching his mouth work with an unerring motion as his expression eggs you on. Soon he looks at you, disappointed but also happy, as if deciding how this night will go. 


Then he grabs your nuts and squeezes. You gasp, hands held away for fear of making it worse should you grab him. Pallas chuckles when he pulls off, letting your wet cock rest against his face for a moment before taking half your sack in his mouth to suckle. Then the other. There’s not an inch of your cock and balls that avoids his tongue. He swaps to your balls whenever you reach an edge, letting you cool down before taking you inside his warm wat maw. Every so often he spits at your cock, lubing it further for what you hope is a wonderful evening inside his backside. 


“I’m feeling a little kinky tonight,” Pallas says, pulling off of you and nestling his elbows at your thighs. “Would you be interested? I promise it’ll be fun.” There are few times when agreeing without knowledge ever pans out well, but you’re far too lost to consider that as you nod. “Great.” He says, slapping your balls once. You grunt in pain but don’t shield yourself, keeping your legs open as your date gets up and leaves. “Just wait right here, I need to change.”


He takes a while, leaving you to pump your cock in order to stay erect while looking around his apartment. It’s a little messy, with papers and jackets covering one table, but nothing too disorganized. Eventually, you can’t keep yourself up, though upon his return you find your cock stirring at the sight of him.


Gone are his hot pants and leather jacket, replaced with a latex bolero jacket and matching thong that outlines a bulge over his crotch. Fishnet stockings match with his shirt, exposing tight pink nipples standing out of his white fur. In one hand, gloved so that you can’t tell where the sleeves of his jacket end, he holds a strange metal device. 


“Ever see a chastity cage before?” He asks. You shake your head. “Think of it as an enhancer of sorts. I lock this bad boy around your cock, preventing your erection. All that energy has to go somewhere, so it makes you more sensitive.”


You remain unconvinced so he pulled down his thong, revealing a black chastity cage with small spikes dotting the outer ring. “Trust me, it makes everything way more fun. If you don’t like it, I’ll take it off, deal?” 


Deciding that nothing ventured is nothing gained, you nod and present your cock. From the looks of it your cock grew hard from the conversation, forcing Pallas to grab an ice bag from the fridge. You shiver and huff at the chill pressed upon you and Pallas’s kiss doesn’t help. Slowly and surely you wilt enough to grow soft.


“Try to think about something unarousing for this part. Gotta stay soft for this.” His soft voice trails down your neck as slimy lube is rubbed over your cock and balls. The ring is tight at first, requiring just a little force to squeeze your sack inside before your cock goes underneath it. Then the outer lock pushes against your soft nub, lining up the hole with your urethra. With one click it stays in place, a constant weight hanging at your crotch to keep you soft, limp, and horny.


“So cute.” Pallas cups your caged cock by its sack, firmly kneading it until you groan, then patting playfully. “Can you feel it stirring? That heat from your dick trying to expand but unable? It can’t even get hard to push free, can it?” 


It can’t. You’ve seen memes and art of chastity before that depicted how a hard enough cock would send a cage ricocheting like a bullet. But it doesn’t work like that. It’s like a pool of warmth at your crotch, fruitlessly piling at the base with nowhere else to go. There’s just enough to make it twitch, to hear the cage click at each failing attempt of action. Pallas laughs softly, straddling you for a kiss. 


His weight sinks on you. You could lift him if you wanted but the sensation paralyzes you. As if his presence has conquered yours like his tongue has with your maw. The heat swells and you hear the clatter between you both as the cages collide. Both eager to frot but unable, forcing the energy elsewhere. Pallas grips the back of your head and pulls you back, exposing your neck to love bites and hickeys. 


Laughter escapes his lips. You didn’t realize it until he pointed it out, but your hips are humping at his cage. “See what I mean?” He whispers, “You get so desperate when caged. It’s the ultimate aphrodisiac. The irony makes it all the better.” A slender finger tilts your chin upward. “Why don’t we go to the bedroom for more fun?”


You don’t so much as nod as you let him lead you by your shirt collar. Some small part of you wants it to be a real collar. Leather with soft lining to dig in the back of your neck as he leads you down to pleasures unknown. Instead of some deep dark dungeon with black leather furniture, you’re brought to his bedroom, with pink bedsheets, black pillows, and gaming posters covering the walls. Directed to kneel, you watch that pretty ass of his shake as he crawls over the covers. With his panties down you get a glimpse of something jeweled underneath. A buttplug. 


Pallas, as if sprouting eyes from the back of his head, weaves his ass seductively before raising it up to spread its cheeks. “Like that you see? I’ve been prepping since before you picked me up. Just thinking about your hot cock burying deep inside me all night.”


Said cock is currently scratching at the cage walls. Pallas flips over, raising his legs and leaning forward with such ease you wonder how flexible he really is. Between two fingers he pulls at the plug, twisting left and right until it pops free. The base is thick, almost half the size of your fist, and covered in lube that trails from his waiting hole. 


“Well?” Pallas beckons you up, “It’s not going to service itself.”


Eager to please you crawl onto the bed. The musk of his sack overwhelms your snout as you sink below it, past the taint to his loose hole. Your tongue braces the rim, slowly lapping along it before digging inside. You know well enough as Pallas’s moans tell you. “Good boy,” he coos, huffing through bitten lips, “That’s it. Show me how much you want it.”


Recalling Pallas’s point earlier, you do feel a sense of energy thrumming through your body in lieu of an erection. Your crotch twitches and strains with the weight of the cage, sending what arousal it musters throughout to find another means of release. So you dig on, sampling the sylveon’s ass more than you would have if your cock was free. By now you’d have tried to fuck it, bury your bone as hard and deep into the petite sylveon’s ass to show who was the top dog. But there’s no top dog here. Or at least, it’s not you. 


You realize it never was. 


Impressive as your tongue is, he’s eager to explore your backdoor. “You don’t need to be so tense. But…” He pulls a pair of leather cuffs from his drawer, “If you need something to pull, these are heavy-duty enough.”


Unable or simply unwilling to say no, you let him lock your wrists behind you. Pushed face first into the bed, Pallas has you raise your bum. Politely, he ties a rope to your tail to keep it up and latches it to a leather collar now locked at your neck. “For stability,” he says, but you get the sense there’s something more in mind than that. 


The lube is cold for a moment. He trails it over your hole’s rim before sinking a finger inside you. You tense. He pats your cheek. “Take a deep breath. Focus on your bindings instead.” Your hands clench and pull away at the cuffs. They don’t show any sign of breaking under you. You’re truly at the sylveon’s mercy, a position he intends to exploit as another delicate finger enters you. The sensation is foreign but not unpleasant, yet you bite the pillow all the same as he searches for your prostate. 


“There we are.” He muses aloud as you give a mix of a squeal and shudder. Soft pressure pushes behind your cock. It rubs slowly, massaging a single button that’s been unattended to for too long. You sink into his touch, trying to stay relaxed so the sylveon can show you what his skilled fingers are capable of.


Your ears perk at the whir of a vibrator. The buzzing sensation braces your sack as he fingers you. “Shh…stay still.” Pallas coos, rolling the head of his wand over your sack and caged head. The clattering sensation rocks against the tip of your cock. You moan, unable to hold back as you try not to move. The sylveon chuckles, patting your cage with the toy whenever you fail to keep still. When that doesn’t work he hits your sack. Not enough to hurt, just enough to tell you he could. 


Being caged, vibed, and milked is wholly different from what you’re used to. Even when being ridden there was a sense of control. An idea of when you’d be able to cum. Here it’s gone. Without your erection you’re at the mercy of his delicate fingers, easing you to the edge as if you’re about to pee but nothing comes. It builds and builds until finally you’ve reached the climax.


Then he stops. The waves of pleasure crash against a dam, failing to do more than trickle drops over as your caged cock hangs uselessly. He massages the nub with his finger, swirling it around with glee until you’ve calmed down. Then he starts again.


Then stops.


Then starts.


Then stops.


Then starts.


You wail and beg as the hours pass by. Pallas chides you at first, but resorts to a thick rubber ballgag when your pleading gets too desperate. “This is a good look for you.” He teases, patting your face before returning to work. “And don’t be in such a rush. We both know you want this.”


You do. You’ve had more than enough chances to break free that simple begging wasn’t ever necessary. Whatever orgasm comes you want it by his hand. So when he stops again you’re not disappointed but eager, awaiting the fall of your pleasure to grow again in his torment. Except this time he signals you to roll over, exposing your cock to him. There he presses his cage against your own, touching his cage with the whirring wand.


You feel a fraction of his vibrations. The sylveon tenses, huffing as he grinds his caged cock at the wand and your own. Your eyes widen with realization and you mewl behind the gag that it isn’t true. But he cries out with a smile, soaking your cage with spurts of his enjoyment. 


He does not acknowledge your plight with words, preferring to keep his tongue busy licking up the splooge over your cage. You get a taste of it as he kisses you gag, lathering the creases with his seed and saliva. The salty scent overpowering your nose. “You know, I think that might have taken a bit out of me.” He says, smiling while dangling a collar over you. “Mind waiting until tomorrow? We’ve got the whole weekend to ourselves.”


By a taut leash, you’re pulled off the bed. Weak with exhaustion and denial you slump to the floor. He opens the closet just across from his bed, revealing a dog cage large enough to fit a person. To fit you. “Come now,” he teases, leading you along after the rattling cage swings open, “Get in. I need to sleep. Gotta be up early for my fun.” 


Behind black bars with a thick collar, you watch him undress and collapse into bed. Once the lights are out you’re left with nothing but the creaks of the cage, the squeaks of leather, and your own aching blue balls. The whirring sound returns from the bed, followed by Pallas’s huffy moans as you wait and listen.