Emotional Labour

Emotional Labour

Jess pursed her lip as Hank sobbed into her shoulder. She gently patted him as he wept against her”

“There, there, it’ll be OK”

“But she left me!  I don’t know what I’ll do without her!” 

“It’s OK, plenty more fish in the sea”

“But I loved her.  Thought I’d marry her…thought she was the one!” he trailed off in shuddering, silent sobs. 

“I’m sorry  she broke up with you. Sometimes these things just happen”

She held him as he was lost to breakup grief.   He still smelt nice, but he was so much work!  Everytime he got upset, he turned to her shoulder to cry upon. Why did she always have to do the emotional labour of putting him back together after every breakup!?   But theirs was an old, strong connection, deeper than any passing romance. 

It had begun in university- they’d dated, the first time either felt free to explore their kinks and discover their perversions.  Hank had discovered he needed to be told what to do, Jess her love of domination.  A foreign year abroad had amicably parted them, and they moved onto other relationships but stayed the closest of friends,  still casually intimate, something beyond friends with kinky benefits…

Eventually he stopped sobbing. He had relaxed into her embrace, caught his breath. Dried his eyes. 

“Now you know what we have to do?”  she gently whispered into his ear.   She felt the tension rocket through his body

“No… no, Jess, can’t we wait a bit this time?!” he begged.  Well his lips protested, but his zipper had suddenly tented like a teenage boy. 

“Now don’t be a silly boy. Let me lock you back into your old chastity belt. I hope it still fits after these  2 years!”   - her tone was definite. Declarative. Brooked no possibility of denial. 

“But I haven’t cum  in weeks” he whined.   He knew he wasn’t allowed to touch himself- that’s why staying in a romantic relationship was so vital to him. 

“You know the deal. Soon as you are officially broken up, it’s back in the cage. You know you can’t handle it by yourself.” 

“Yes Jess” he said, a wrenching sob re-entering his voice. 

She fetched out from the back of her wardrobe an old familiar device. 

His hands remembered the routine of old - pulling balls and cock through the ring, straightening, adjusting, even as he shook  His treacherous  member was erect and he struggled to push the cage down.  She just gave him a look and with a wince of pain, he found the guiding rods and pushed the cage flush to the ring.  It took a second for the padlock to be threaded through.

CLICK  

It locked. His red glans struggled and fought against the bars, pressed hard against the unyielding metal.  That old, familiar metallic  grip around his cock. He’d probably spent more time in it over the years of his adulthood than out.  He wished it didn’t feel like coming home. But it did, and somehow that gave him comfort.  He knew he’d regret it in the small hours of the night when nocturnal erection turned into excruciating alarm. But he knew he’d get used to that in time again, the cold steel taming his cock.  Reminding him that he was happiest belonging to another. That someone cared enough about him, cared about his manhood to lock it away- he was never alone in a cage- it never let him forget Jess. 

And it would be motivation enough for him to mourn the end of his relationship quickly, then go back to the dating apps, speed-dating meetups, to scour Fetlife personals, let co-workers  match him with likely blind dates and lay on the charm in the gym and coffeeshops.  Only when he was ‘official’ with another woman, only when his Facebook status read “in a relationship with X”  would Jess release him from his penile prison. Only then could he lose the permanent cramp, the never-ending tension,  the erection denying punishment.  

Jess secured the key in her lockbox.  She’d retrieve it weekly for supervised hygiene and shaving.  Though his body still felt the pain of his recent separation, now it had a new sensation to re-adjust to.  A 3-inch cage had a way of making an 8-inch cock focus it’s mind on other things.  Sometimes Jess couldn’t believe how much she’d short circuited his repetitive, constant grieving process every time he went through a break up.  This saved so much comforting, so much cooing and caring,  the miracle of the cage rescuing her from endless emotional labour. 

The first time had been after his what… third breakup? He’d gone through 3 relationships in under a year - his commitment insufficient, his demands too selfish. They’d split, he’d be heartbroken and then he’d spend a month sobbing on her couch. After the third one, he’d been desperate, lonely, fearing he’d never love again, but too gunshy to even try again.  

She’d just been tired of his self-pitying emotional masochism and the Domme voice had taken over. She’d told him to pull down his pants and then found a spare cage from an ex-sub. 

“You can be released when you start dating again” she told him.  He’d accepted it without a word of complaint. Too emotionally distraught to question her. Holding onto her certainty and command like drowning man to a life-raft. 

And it had worked. He’d  been motivated.  He’d never dated harder- subscribing to a dozen apps,  swiping right  obsessively, considering every match. Sometimes he’d go on 10 dates a week - scheduling breakfasts, brunches, late afternoon weekend lunches, dinner out every night!! 

Then he’d found a girl, made it to 4 dates with her and agreed to go official.  He’d shaken in relief as the cage was unlocked and lifted off.  His hands descended on his instant erection as if to confirm if was still there, but a cold glance from Jess checked him.

 “No touching! It’s for her pleasure alone! Not yours. She can touch you there. She can make you feel good. But it’s not for you!  In fact, if you ever break up, I want you to come back here right away!” 

And after a glorious 6 months,  heartbreak set in again and he’d returned. 

*Click*  

Just like now. 

“Thank you Jess” he said.  “I don’t know what I’d do without you”

“That’s OK love, I’ll always be here for you.  Just as you are here for me”

He knew what that meant. He sunk to his knees before her. Gently took off her shoes and panties.  She reclined on the sofa, legs parting before him. Once more he began the sacred worship- stroking along her legs, kisses across her inner thighs.  Lips and tongue playing across her warm, wetness.  Kissing her intimately. Feeling her tense,  moan and cry.  Hearing her sighs and exhalations of satisfaction  as he pleasured her in payment for her command. His imprisoned cock, straining in it’s inescapable cage again.

Yes she had to do all the emotional labour in their relationship. But he used his tongue to make her feel better just as much! 

FINIS 

- my first story in a few years  - came to me in a flash when I saw a caption. Thoughts comments, criticisms welcome