The Glass Slipper

I’m going to invite you to participate in a quick exercise.  Imagine for a moment that you are tasked with purchasing an item you didn’t know existed 24 hours prior to making the purchase.  Then, imagine that you were purchasing this item for the person you love and you feel an immense amount of pressure to ensure that they enjoy it.  Furthermore, imagine this item is an accessory that is physically impossible for you to wear.  And for all of this to go well you must determine the correct size and specifications to ensure it is a perfect fit.  Does that sound stressful?  Nearly impossible to get right?  This, dear reader, was the exact predicament I found myself in when I ordered my fiancé’s first chastity cage.

During our first conversation about cuckolding on the eve of my birthday, my fiancé invited me to purchase an extra gift for myself: the first device I would use to lock up his penis.  We sat around my laptop and browsed the various models for over an hour.  He explained the basics of the mechanism to me: the ring wraps snugly around his scrotum and the “cage” portion fits around his penis.  The cage connects to the ring and a padlock is affixed at the conjoining point, ensuring that it could not be removed.  I looked at the chastity cages with a sense of wonderment, curious about what these strange devices would feel like and imagining how they might look on him.  

“I think it’s only right that you should pick mine out.  My penis belongs to you now in a very different way than it did before.” He said.

“I like the sound of that, but I’m a little intimidated to be honest.” I remarked.  “I mean, you appear to be the expert on this…”

“It’s okay if it’s not perfect.  We can always get another one.” He replied. 

I spent the rest of the evening laying in bed scrolling through my phone reading about chastity.  I read contradictory beginners guides on how to find the perfect cage.  I learned that cages were made from different materials: steel, plastic, silicon. I read about the pros and cons of each of these and read review after review. I began to feel overwhelmed by all of the information I was taking in.  It was almost as if I was a newly crowned Queen about to make her first royal decree.  I nervously decided it was best to just pull the trigger and buy one from the first website we had visited together.  I’ll never forget the model: cbx-6000.  I hurriedly selected the color: a neutral wood grain. Then I approached the question I had been dreading: the size of the cage.

At this point in my life I was not well versed in determining the size of men’s cocks.  Societal conditioning had programmed me to believe it was rude to overly fixate on the dimensions of any man’s penis and it seemed especially uncouth to measure my fiancé’s.  He had always insisted that he was average at best and I tended to believe him, even though I often felt he was being slightly modest in his assessment.   Now I was tasked with selecting the perfect length to encase his flaccid penis in a sheath of plastic.  I agonized about it for a few long moments and then made a selection: 3 1/4 inches. 

Something shifted within me when I looked at that number on my phone screen.  Three and a quarter inches.  It seemed like such a small number.  More than small; miniscule. Insignificant.  Three and a quarter of anything isn’t really all that much.  That realization quickly transposed into a title wave of excitement.  My fiancé had just given me the gift of freedom to fuck anyone I wanted.  I was certain I would fuck men with bigger cocks than him.  I hurriedly finished the checkout process before eagerly grabbing my Hitachi vibrator and embarked on a google search of an entirely different nature.

I am an obsessive purchase tracker.  I greatly enjoy shopping online because I never lost the wonderment of opening a package I have received in the mail.  I will often compulsively check the tracking even though I know the location of my package is not likely to have been updated.  This tendency was on full display as I waited for my fiancé’s chastity cage to arrive in the mail.  It was a grueling wait made even more excruciating by the unbelievably hot sex my fiancé and I were having.  We had both worked ourselves into a frenzy fantasizing about cuckolding, denial, and the dynamics of bringing a bull into our relationship.  I had even gone out and bought a surprise: a spool of pink ribbon to tie around the chastity cage and a pair of thigh high stockings for him to wear with it.

You can imagine my excitement when the tracking status read delivered during my 10th check at work.  I hurriedly texted my fiancé and told him it arrived.  

“I want you to put it on as soon as we get home.” I commanded.

“Yes, Mistress.” He promptly responded. 

Luckily, my fiancé was working late that evening and I was able to get home and open the box before him.  I laid all the parts of the device out on my kitchen table.  The starter kit came with several rings of varying size.  The cage seemed light enough in my hand, but there were two pieces of plastic that I wasn’t quite sure what to do with.  I attempted to put the cage together but it didn’t seem to fit together readily.  Puzzled, I decided it would all make sense when we secured it on my fiancé later in the evening.  I laid out the pieces of the cage on our bed and placed the key to the padlock in my pocket.  I set out the white thigh high stockings next to them.  Pleased with my display, I poured myself a glass of wine and waited for the man of my dreams to return home. 

A few glasses of wine later my front door burst open and my fiancé returned home.  He kneeled before me and kissed my feet.  

“Are you excited, Cucky?  Your new life starts today.” I said.

“I am, Mistress.  I’m ready.”  He responded.  I instructed him to shower and remain naked.  I felt a euphoric sense of joy wash over me.  I was experiencing the same emotion I always feel when I’m stepping onto an airplane. The man I love and I were about to embark on a remarkable journey together.  I wasn’t just stepping into my bedroom to place a chastity device on his penis, I was participating in a ceremony of great consequence. When my fiancé finished his shower I beckoned him into the bedroom to behold his device.

The grandiose nature of the moment faded quickly over our numerous attempts to correctly secure the chastity device on his penis.  We tried one ring, and then another.  One seemed too small and another was too large.  We both struggled to understand the correct placement of the extra plastic pieces, which I learned were called “spacers.”  He became frustrated, I became frustrated. Just as we both were ready to call it a night, our attempt yielded a tenuous hold.

“Is it on?” I asked, exasperated.

“I think so.” He said, taking a precarious step forward. We both shared a laugh.

“Well, it can only get easier from here, right!  Don’t forget to put on your pretty stockings.”  

“Yes, Mistress.”

I sauntered into the living room and laid out on the couch, waiting for my newly minted cuckold to stand before me.  I waited a few moments, and then a few more, and just when I was about to ask what was taking so long I saw my fiancé demurely poke his head out of the bedroom door.

“Come out here!  Let me see you!” I excitedly commanded.

The man I was betrothed to marry sheepishly stepped out and I was slightly taken aback by the sight of him.  He had raided my panty drawer and found my garter belt and affixed them to his white thigh highs. The cage was gratefully still snuggly attached to his genitals.  

“Come closer.” I instructed.  He inched toward me.  

“I think we might have a problem, Mistress, the cage is too big.”

I scoffed.  Too big?!  The three and a quarter inches that I found so tiny when I ordered it was somehow too big?

“Let me see!” I exclaimed.

I picked up his caged penis and testicles and looked into the small hole at the bottom of the cage.  I let out a small gasp.  There was visible space between the end of the cage and where my cuckold’s penis was placed within it.  I felt slightly crestfallen, but I wasn’t going to allow that feeling to put in a dent in the power I felt from locking him away.

“We’ll order you another cage tomorrow.  I liked the pink one anyway.  So, my love, how do you feel?”  I asked genuinely.

“I feel like I’m really, really your cuckold now.  I’m locked up and dressed up and this feels right.  What matters most to me is that you’re happy.”

I leapt to my feet and embraced him in a warm, passionate kiss.  I was truly happy and more in love than I ever had been.  There are times in life that I refer to as “bookmark moments.”  Life before the moment was unrecognizable when compared to life after that moment.  Nothing would ever be the same.  The power I felt the first night my cuckold surrendered his penis to me was unlike anything I had ever felt, and the surrender he experienced was of the same gravity.  There is only ever one first kiss, one first dance, and one first night locking up your cuckold.

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4 thoughts on “The Glass Slipper

    1. Thank you very much! I hope that you get to experience surrendering your pleasure to the woman you love as well.


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