Soft music played from the speakers. The
warm water soothed our yoga-sore muscles. The vitamin E oil in the water
mixed with the rose oils and petals made it feel like we were soaking
in liquid silk. Benedict was reclining against my chest, eyes closed. I
could see the tiny movements of his eyes under his pale lids. I kissed
his temple. He smiled and reached for his wine glass.

These were
the moments I never thought I’d have with Benedict. With a more casual
lover, I would have just broke up with him, but there was no easy with
out of this one. I was smitten, in love. I wanted a life with Benedict,
but one thing had almost been a dealbreaker: his sex drive.

Benedict’s
sex drive simply did not have an off button. He craved sex frequently
and fervently. He seized upon any instance to touch, stroke, suck, or
put my dick inside of him. After being with him for a while, I began to
see two distinct patterns. One was just random horniness that needed to
be soothed, usually in the morning. The other was a side-effect of
exposure. He couldn’t see me change, or catch a glimpse of me in the
shower without getting hard and wanting to turn it into sex. If Benedict
saw my bulge while I watched TV in my boxer briefs, he had to try and
turn it into sex. Don’t get me started on swim trunks. We had a talk
about it more than once.

I hated letting him down, and leaving
him frustrated, especially because surprisingly Benedict wasn’t a big
fan of masturbation. He didn’t like the way it made him feel. He felt
stupid, and kind of gross, especially after, so he tended to ignore his
urges until they were pent up. As long as he had a boyfriend, Benedict
did not see the point of self-pleasure. However, he was wearing me out.
Also sex wasn’t really appropriate or possible in some instances, which
lead to stress in our relationship.
What drove me crazy thought was
that I could see the potentional of our relationship underneath the
river of hormones, I just couldn’t dive down deep enough without being
swept away. Benedict wanted to cuddle. He wanted to be romantic. He
wanted to go on dates, and have fun, without bringing sex into
everything. Benedict told me once he wished he could see nude bodies in
museums the way artists did, instead of how perverts did.

That’s
when I realized Benedict knew that he was out of control himself, but
was too embarrassed to confess. So, I decided to take the Big Step
Forward in our relationship and assert myself. I locked his cock up in a
pretty metal cage. No pesky erections. No distraction. No masturbation.
Turns out, that his rampant hunger to be fucked only reared itself when
he was fully hard and ready to go. So as long as it was locked down,
his sex drive only simmered. It was much more manageable. The orgasms I
gave him were more powerful and lasted longer. Plus, Benedict found it
fun to postpone his orgasms until I could give him a really big one. When he thought to beg for sex, he found himself pausing, remembering the
fun of preferring long nights in the bedroom with toys and torment instead of
quickies.

Slowly, we began to enjoy the rebirth of our
relationship. Here we were in a scene I never thought possible: we were
having a bath. That’s it. Just a bath, both of us, completely nude (well, him locked),
completely wet, and Benedict’s hand was no where near my cock. He was
sipping his wine and just relaxing. It was wonderful to just be us. I mean, we went to yoga as a couple today, and Benedict was an angel. He got to stare at my ass and didn’t get an embarrassing public boner. Everyone wins.

I
put my arms around his waist. Now, I could see a future together. The
same key that locks the chastity cage can also be used to open the key
to a boy’s heart.

_______________
Text is fictional. I might have posted this before, but it was sitting in drafts, so I’m not entirely sure.