The Keyholder: Part 3
- 2 months ago
- 18 min read
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Adam slept fitfully that night. He woke up several times, his cock aching to be released, and he kept imagining Joyce quite literally above him in the upstairs part of the house, sleeping with his key around her neck.
He wanted to be lying next to her, smelling her hair, her warm, lush body next to his. He could almost feel what it would be like if he tried hard enough to imagine, her soft skin, the impression of her body next to him, but then the image would fade, and he would just be alone.
And yet, he did feel her.
He felt that silent string between the two of them, the string she only needed to pull at, tug at, and he would feel it in his cock.
He was hers. He just wanted to be able to show her how much.
He thought about how jealous he'd been thinking she was with another man upstairs while he stood naked and waiting for her, and how angry he had been, but also how she had somehow known that it would excite him. He hadn't expected that, and he strangely had to admit to himself that there was a part of him that liked it—although he was also very glad she had just been toying with him.
She had done it for him.
It made him feel--special.
The next morning he had class, and then he taught, part of his graduate student duties and for which he received his stipend. It was hard to concentrate all day, although he managed. He willed himself to place Joyce and his aching cock in a sealed box in his mind, so he could keep up with his school work and his own students.
But by the time classes were over, he was more than eager to return to his apartment. On the way home, he stopped at the grocery store to pick up some food for the week, and he picked out some flowers for Joyce.
At first he thought of red roses, but then he realized those were too common. He chose purple irises instead. They seemed more exotic, like Joyce, and purple was the color of royalty. He was starting to think of her a little like a queen, his queen.
He parked and grabbed his groceries, including Joyce's flowers, preparing to bring them inside. But as he walked up the short path to the front door, he saw her, sitting on her front steps. She was in a long, flowy skirt today and fitted blue v neck shirt, and barefoot. She had a glass next to her filled with ice and a drink and a book in her hand.
"Adam!" She put down the book as he approached. "I was waiting for you." She seemed genuinely excited.
He looked at the book.
"The Color Purple," he said. "That's a great book." And he set down his bags and pulled out his purple flowers, feeling very pleased with himself.
"For me?" Joyce accepted them with a bright smile. "How did you know purple was my favorite color?"
"Just a guess."
Adam couldn't help feeling bashful around her. He knew he was blushing already. He looked down at the ground and couldn't help but notice her pretty bare feet, her toenails painted pink.
He couldn't get excited again—not yet. But there it was. His erection was trying to escape, but the metal prevented it. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.
"That was very sweet," she said. "They're going to look lovely at the dinner table."
"I'm sure they will," he said.
"But not quite as lovely as you," she said, smiling somewhat wolfishly, it seemed.
"As lovely as me?" He laughed.
"Yes. I thought maybe you'd join me for dinner tonight? After you put your groceries away? I thought we could get to know each other a little better."
"Oh! Yes!" He couldn't even pretend that he wasn't excited. "I'll just go down right now and put this stuff in the fridge."
"Sounds good," said Joyce. "I'll see you a little bit."
Adam ran downstairs, shoving his groceries in the fridge and freezer, hoping he didn't mix up which went where in his excitement. Then he practically bounded back upstairs.
She laughed she opened the door. "That was quick! So enthusiastic!"
"I was. I am," he admitted. "I would love to spend some time with you and get to know you better, ma'am."
"You really are adorable," she said, ushering him inside. "Come. Let's eat."
Adam finally got a chance to see her house, which felt like he thought her house would look like. It wasn't ostentatious, but it was comfortable and elegant. She had a lot of books.
A lot of bookcases, actually. All full of books.
"I was a history teacher," she said, catching him eyeing the colorful book jacket spines. "But I'm retired now." She was in the kitchen. There was the delicious smell of home cooking emanating from the stove.
"You're young to be retired," he said.
Honestly, he wasn't sure how old Joyce was, but he thought probably somewhere in her late thirties or early forties. He knew it wasn't polite to ask, and what did it matter anyway. She was perfect.
"I'm 42," she said, stirring something in a pot.
"Yes. I am young to retire. Honestly, I have family money, and between renting the apartment and a few other properties I own, I don't need to work. I volunteer now to keep my mind active."
She flashed her teeth. "Well, I do some other things too, like invite smart, young men to apprentice with me."
"Is that what I am?" He approached her at the stove, feeling bold for a moment, and slipped one arm around her waist. "Your apprentice?"
"Oh, in a way," she said. "It's kind of a partnership. Don't you think?" She pulled the necklace with his key out from her shirt and dangled it in front of his face.
He moved to kiss her, but she dodged him with a giggle, and instead pulled out a wooden spoon from the pot cooking on the stove. "What do you think of this?"
She held it up in front of his mouth and waited for him to taste it.
"Mmmm." It was creamy tomato soup. "Delicious," he said. "But not as delicious as you."
She laughed, and before he'd realized what happened, she'd flipped him around so he was pinned up against the counter and her hand was slipped around his waist, pulling him toward her. The spoon clattere d on the counter, and she kissed him hard.
"I was thinking about you all last night," she said.
"I was too!" It felt good to say it out loud.
"We're going to play," she said. She cupped his cage gently, and he moaned. "I promise. We really are. I'm going to be nice to you tonight, Adam. But first we're going to eat a little and we're going to talk a little and we're going to drink a little."
I'm not going anywhere." She tugged on his cage lightly. "And neither are you."
The dinner passed in a blur. Tomato soup and fresh baguette and salad and wine, and Joyce telling him about her years teaching, her marriage, over but amicably, her family, parents both dead, her friends, hobbies, etc...and Adam explaining how he decided on engineering, moving from a small town. He talked about feeling different from his peers, wanting to be somewhere else, somewhere there was "more," but he didn't go into too much detail.
That part of his life was a little painful. It seemed like both of them had a little pain in their pasts.
What neither of them talked about at all was what was currently between his legs. It was like they both knew they were saving that. It was there, a current running underneath everything, but it could linger, simmer. It would be there no matter what.
And then dinner was finally over, and Adam helped Joyce load the dishes in the dishwasher and clean up. And they sat on either side of her kitchen table, glasses of wine in hands and looked at each other.
"So," she said, reaching out and taking one of his hands in hers. "Are you ready?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am." He didn't know what she was proposing, but the answer was yes. How could the answer be no?
"Let's go upstairs then. To my bedroom."
They were quiet. She led, and he followed, and up the stairs he found himself in her room, which was white and serene and comforting.
"Sit down with me," she said, patting her bed, covered with a soft white duvet.
Adam sat, wanting to sink into it, and she sat down beside him. She smelled good. That perfume. Or her natural scent. Or both. Adam wanted to nuzzle at her, but he could tell she wanted him to wait. He didn't want to pester her. He wanted to be good.
"Last night was fun," she said.
"It was!" Had he said that too loudly. Why couldn't be at all cool around this woman? "It was," he repeated, more softly this time.
"It was," she said. "But maybe I rushed into that too fast. I should have checked with you first. I thought I was being clever, but I could have hurt you."
Adam didn't know what to say. It was true he had been shocked. Also angry and jealous for a time. But also...he had been excited. He hadn't expected to have all the feelings that he had—so mixed up and jumbled together. But the combination had been...intoxicating.
"I think tonight, let's get to know each other a little more," she said. "Just the two of us. No games."
"Ha! Don't act so disappointed. I just meant no surprises. Like yesterday. Let's get everything out in the open." To emphasize her point, she put her hand on his crotch, just very lightly.
Everything? What did she mean by everything? He could feel himself starting to melt.
"How often do you usually take off your cage," she asked, petting him slowly.
"Every few days. To clean myself. Make sure it's still working." He laughed.
"And how long do you usually wait between orgasms?"
He felt shy. "It depends. The longest I've gone was about three weeks, and I was pretty desperate then, ma'am. Usually, more like two is all I can stand. But I've never had a keyholder before. So, I had to rely on myself, and sometimes...I just didn't have enough discipline to continue."
"Okay," she said, taking her time. "Well, here's what we're going to do tonight." She rubbed his back as she spoke, and felt that calm slipping over his again. It was an effect she had on him. He felt slightly dazed in a pleased, lust drunk way.
"First, we're going to get you nice and clean. Which means," she said, pulling her necklace out from between her breasts, that I'm going to take your cage off."
His cock immediately felt harder the minute she said that, which, he realized, was going to make the process even more difficult.
But god, how he wanted out of the cage—and then he didn't—but he did. He really did. He needed it. And he did want to be clean for Joyce!
"Take your clothes off for me. And meet me in the bathroom."
The bathroom was just off her bedroom. Adam slowly undressed, tying to give himself a little time so his cock could calm down, but it was so challenging knowing that she was waiting for him in there.
And once he got into the bathroom, it wasn't any easier.
Joyce had changed out of her day time outfit into a loose terry bathrobe, her dark hair clipped up in a bun out of her face and her neck exposed. He could see a hint of one of her gorgeous breasts peeping out one side of the robe.
She had the bath running, a soft looking white washcloth on the side of the tub and a bar of soap.
She had his key in her hand.
She sat down on the side of the tub and directed him to stand in front of her, so she was eye level with his cock. It was exciting...and embarrassing. She took her time, just looking at him, and she even lightly petted his ass, slipping one finger gently between his cheeks, probing very lightly.
He flushed and gasped.
"Is that new," she asked, sweetly.
"Yes. Oh...yes." No one had ever touched him like that before. But he felt embarrassed asking for more. He wasn't sure what to ask for more of.
But she just said, "Interesting," and moved on, keeping him wanting.
"I'm going to unlock you now, Adam. Are you ready?"
"Yes." It came out as more of a moan. He had started shaking, tried to will himself to stop, but he couldn't. He wanted to feel her hand on his cock so badly.
"You'll let me know if I hurt you?"
"Yes." Oh, god. Just touch me, please, he thought.
And then her hand was on his thigh and then his cock, over the metal, and she was turning the lock, removing it, placing it on the bathroom counter, and easing, gently, easing the metal cage off.
Luckily, he had been leaking already, so the cage slid off relatively easily, although as soon as it nudged off the tip, he could feel his cock starting to grow. And he still needed to get the metal ring off from behind his balls, which could be tricky.
"Ssshhhh." She petted his thigh. "Such a good boy. You're doing great, Adam. Halfway done."
He had no idea how she did it, but she managed to ease one swollen ball through the metal ring at a time.
He gasped with every touch, convinced she was going to have to pry it off him with bolt cutters, he felt so swollen and achy, but she was gentle and patient, and each touch of her fingers on his balls felt silken and calming, and then he felt a sense of relief as he realized he was free.
"That's a beautiful cock you have under there, Adam, she said, stroking it very lightly with just the tip of one finger. "I'd say it's still working quite well."
He shuddered from the touch. "Thank you, ma'am," he said.
Her robe had slipped open a little more, and now he could see the nipple of one of her breasts, the top of one thigh.
She had him get into the bath, easing himself into the steamy water, and she sat beside the tub, looking at him with that patient stare she had.
"Let's get you nice and clean," she said, taking the washcloth and rubbing a little soap on it. "And give you a little bit of time to get readjusted." Then she took the washcloth and gently started soaping him—first his arms, then his chest, then his legs. She even had him part his legs, so she could run the washcloth between his cheeks. He thought he saw a smirk on her face when he gasped again, but it was gone too soon to be sure.
And then finally, she washed his cock—gently—so gently—his erection was hard. It felt thick. Engorged. Even he was impressed with how hard he was. It twitched every time she touched it, and even when she didn't. It was like his cock had a mind of its own, and now that it had been freed, it only wanted one thing.
And then...bath time was over.
She pulled the plug, helped him out of the tub and handed him a big, fluffy towel to use to dry off.
"Now that you're nice and clean for me," she said to him, back in her bedroom, easing him onto her bed, on his back right in the middle, a soft pillow supporting his head, "I'm going to use you."
The minute she said the word "use" his cock leaped to attention again. It was ready. He was ready.
"Would you like that, Adam? Would you like me to use that lovely, delicious cock to give myself an orgasm? Would you like to see me come hard all over that lovely, delicious cock? I've been thinking about it all night."
"Oh, ma'am." He could barely speak. "Yes. Please."
"Whose cock is it, Adam? Tell me." She slipped off the robe, letting it fall to the floor, and he took in her gorgeous soft body standing right there so close, naked in front of him.
"It's your cock, ma'am. It's all yours."
"That's right. Good boy. It's my cock."
She climbed onto the bed. She had a condom in her hand that she deftly opened.
"And what do you need to do with my cock while I use it, Adam?"
"Ma'am? I don't know," he said. "Tell me, please!"
She unrolled the condom down over him, and he could see and feel himself twitching again.
"Nothing," she said, climbing on top of him, her pussy poised right over him. "You don't have to anything. I'm going to do ALL the work. The only thing you have to do," she said, with a smile as she eased herself onto him, "...is not come."
Ohhhhh. She felt so good. She felt amazing. She worked her pussy down on him with exquisite slowness, clenching and unclenching her muscles, as she slowly eased his cock deeply inside her, until she bottomed out as their pelvic bones met.
"Ma'am!" He warned her. Oh, god. He was so close, and she hadn't even gotten started yet.
"Sssshh." She whispered into his ear, her breasts in his face, and turned his face to the side, so it was facing the wall, his cheek on the pillow.
"Be good," she said, like it was a secret. "Be good. All you have to do is just lie here and let me fuck you. Just relax and take it and let your cock stay nice and hard for me. It won't take long, if you're very good, and then you'll my good boy and we can put your cage back on and get you locked back up nice and tight."
"Oh, god." At the mention of his cage, frustration and desire surged through him...remembering how confined he felt in the cage, but also how safe and distanced. He wanted both. He wanted the cage and he wanted this. He wanted to come and he never wanted to come.
"Sssshhh," she said, again, working her pussy on him with that painful deliberation. She was barely moving, but her muscles were milking his cock incrementally, her breathing speeding up. "Take it," she whispered. "Just take it. Don't fight it."
He tried to complain again—worried that he wasn't going to be able to last, but she silenced him with a firm hand over his mouth.
"You can do it, baby," she said. "Keep my cock nice and hard for me. I'm almost there. It won't be long. Do you like the way my pussy feels milking you? Can you feel all that come in your swollen aching balls wanting so much to come out for me?"
Could he? Could he? He tried to keep his mind empty like Joyce told him, imagined himself as her toy, so lucky being used this way, concentrating on the sweet pressure of her pussy, the sound of her ragged breath, the feeling of her hot hand on his mouth. But his body fought him. It wanted release so badly.
"I know it's hard," she said. "I know how much you want to come...need to come...but I need you to stay desperate for me, baby."
She shuddered, grinding herself against him, forcing him ever more deep and tight inside her.
"I'm going to come now, baby. I'm going to come on that beautiful, hard cock of mine, and I need you to stay nice and still and calm and let it happen. Okay? It's going to happen now, Adam, and you're going to be very good and calm and still for me. Aren't you?"
He groaned. "Yes," he managed to mumble from beneath her hand, feebly, feeling her muscles tighten even more, watching one of her hands clutch the bedsheet beside his cheek as the other tightened over his lips.
"Good boy. Good boy," she repeated over and over, as she used him, working out her orgasm on his body. "Good boy," as her hand came off his mouth and into his hair, first grabbing and then petting, as her breathing slowed and she fell forward onto his chest, kissing it, and then his neck and finally his mouth.
"You did such a good job, Adam," she said, climbing off him, unrolling the condom off his still extremely hard and desperate cock.
"Please, ma'am. May I hold you?" He felt tender, fragile.
"Of course, baby," she said, allowing him to nestle in her arms. She petted his hair. "That was difficult. Wasn't it?"
"Yes," he admitted. "It was so difficult. I'm still so..."
"Horny," she finished for him. "Frustrated."
"Yes. Very, ma'am."
"I know," she said.
And he felt like she did.
"I'll give you a choice," she said, as he inhaled the scent of her, his face between her breasts.
"I can let you come now, before we put your cage back on. Or you can stay hard and desperate and wanting for me, and we can do this again tomorrow. I think I know which choice you're going to make, but I'm going to let it be your choice, Adam."
His cock had never felt quite so locked before, he realized an hour and an ice pack later, as Joyce turned the key.