The bell above the glass door of “Velvet Needle” jingled as Emily tugged me inside by the leash clipped to my collar. The place smelled of antiseptic, vanilla, and female laughter. Three women in pastel smocks looked up from the counter and immediately started grinning.
“Em! You actually brought him!” Tara, the owner, clapped her hands. “The PA prince himself. Come on back, sweetie—let’s see if that little ring healed pretty for its forever home.”
I was already blushing crimson, jeans around my ankles before we even reached the piercing room. Emily made me step out of them completely and stand naked from the waist down while the girls circled like sharks.
“Hands behind your head, legs apart,” Emily ordered, voice syrupy. “Show the ladies what a good healed boy you are.”
Tara snapped on purple gloves, lifted my soft cock with two fingers, and whistled. “Perfect placement. Look at that—nice and straight, no migration. Ready for lockdown.”
From a velvet tray she lifted the new cage: tiny, glossy pink steel with an integrated curved barbell that would thread straight through my healed Prince Albert piercing and lock the whole thing inescapably.
Emily leaned in, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear. “Custom made. Zero chance of pull-out now. Isn’t that exciting, baby?”
My cock betrayed me instantly, swelling at her tone. The girls burst out laughing.
“Already trying to get hard for us?” said Jess, the apprentice, filming on her phone with Emily’s permission. “Too bad that’s about to become impossible.”
Tara dripped lube over the open barbell, then over my piercing. “Deep breath, princess.”
I gasped as the cold steel slid home—through the urethra, out the underside, clicking perfectly into the cage’s back plate. One audible snick and the integrated lock snapped shut. Tara dangled a single key on a chain and handed it straight to Emily.
“Done. Permanently,” she announced, giving the cage a playful flick. My knees buckled.
Emily kissed my burning cheek. “Thank you, ladies. Now, who wants to test how escape-proof it really is?”
They didn’t need asking twice.
Jess stepped forward first, wrapping manicured fingers around the cage and tugging hard. Nothing moved except my hips, which jerked uselessly forward. The ring pulled deliciously on the piercing; the cage didn’t budge an inch.
“Zero give!” she crowed. “Look at his face—poor baby’s trying so hard.”
Next came Liv, the tall brunette. She slapped the cage lightly, watching it swing. “Aww, listen to that little jingle. Music to my ears.”
Emily produced the final humiliation: a pair of shiny baby-pink satin panties with rows of white ruffles across the bum. She dangled them from one finger.
“Step in, darling. Time to dress my permanently pierced husband for the ride home.”
The whole salon howled as I obediently lifted each foot. The satin slid up my thighs and snapped into place over the gleaming pink steel. The cage made an obscene, unmistakable bulge under the delicate fabric.
Tara crouched, pinched the front of the panties, and outlined the cage through the satin. “Adorable. You’ll be leaking into these all weekend, won’t you?”
Emily clipped the leash back on, gave it a tug. “Say thank you to the nice ladies for locking away your orgasms forever, sweetheart.”
Voice cracking, cage already straining and dripping, I managed a whisper. “Th-thank you for making me permanently caged.”
They applauded like I’d just performed the cutest trick.
Emily smiled, sweet and wicked. “Good boy. Now let’s go show your new bulge to the world—one waddling, plugged, pantied, pierced step at a time
2087
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