Page 48 of Yours Truly

After Ivy left, I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t do anything but think of her.

She gives as good as she gets, and I like that. She’s challenging and smart, and drop-dead gorgeous. She wears what she wants, she says what she thinks and she follows her goddamn dreams.

Not to mention she’s got roots. People who love her here in Bluebell. A small, quiet life but one still bursting at the seams with dreams and goals, passions and dedications.

She’s what I want and she’s got what I need.

Despite the booze and regret, my lower half awakens, throbbing at the thought of Ivy in that bodysuit and tiny skirt, all her ink exposed through the tears in those sexy tights.

Fuck. I may be more hungover than I thought.

I feel hard. Or.. I’m aroused but…

Panic slaps me across the face like I’m on Maury.

Did I finally break my dick? Did I drink so much that even in the light of day, hours of sleep and a bottle of water under my belt, and I still can’t get it up?

My hands fly to my belt, which I struggle to unbuckle. It’s like I’m trapped in a nightmare where I’m trying to dial emergency services, but my fingers won’t find the right keys, or the keys won’t press. That’s this, only more urgent because this isn’t a dream, I’m awake and it’s my cock on the line.

The more panicked I become, the slower my belt slides from the loops, all the while, my aching cock is just that… aching.

“Jesus, finally,” I crow, whipping my forearm with the edge of the belt as I jerk it free. “Fucking button fly piece of cocksucking…” I grumble and curse as my big fat thumbs struggle to pop open the buttons on my fly. Finally, after my forehead is covered in a thin sheen of boozy sweat, I shuck my jeans down, leaving them banded below my ass as I shove down my boxers.

“Fuck!” I scream, literally scream. Blinking, eyes wide, I stand there, staring down at where my cock normally is. And it’s there but… “Ah!” I scream again, only this time, no words, only pure terror. “Ahh!!” I howl again, making myself jump.

And when I jump, my cock does, too, but within the confines of a tiny metal dick cage. Reaching down, I cautiously cup my balls which are shoved through the contraption by a ring that loops my entire package. I stare at my cock all compressed, the bulge and veins reduced to a handful, all shoved into a metal cage.

It’s like a tiny torturous birdhouse for dicks.

I hate it.

“What… what the fuck?” I can’t stop staring at my locked-up dick. Seriously. The last time I stared at my dick this hard was after the first time I ejaculated. I remember staring at my cock, thinking, what the fuck? I’d trade that what the fuck for this one any day of the damn week.

With my locked dick just hanging out because, again, what the fuck? I pick up my phone from the floor and dial Deuce, my heart absolutely racing.

“Welcome back to Bluebell,” Deuce answers, making light of my drunken stupor last night.

“Are you mad?” I first ask, because even with my dick in a birdcage, I fucked up last night. But I’m at my house. The last thing I remember last night was being at Ink Time.

There are no half-dressed cowgirl singers around this place. Deuce has to be the one that brought me home. He has to.

“Mad? No. Disappointed, yes, but mostly for you,” he says, thanking Ev quietly in the background.

“Wh—” I start my sentence but no words adequately fit the what on God’s green earth is happening right now mindset that I’m in. “What… happened last night?” I ask, still staring at my locked-up guy. Maybe whatever Deuce has to say will make my dick prison make sense.

Deuce sighs. “Thanks, baby,” he says, likely to Ev, but I don’t care to clarify. All I want to know is why I need a treasure map to take a fucking piss this morning. “Well, you got butthurt that Ivy went out to eat with Jeremy. Then you got shit-faced too fast and passed out, and the women you invited over to party tried to rob the shop. They were sticking needles in the side of the till when Ivy came back and pulled a knife on them.”

“What—”

“Then,” he continues, speaking more loudly to not let me get a word in edgewise. “She held them at knifepoint till Bluebell PD got there. Arrested them. By the time the security company called me to tell me we left the alarms off, the PD had it all taken care of. I showed up at Ink Time, watched the footage while Ivy got you dressed?—”

“Ivy dressed me?”

Wait—I know I didn’t fool around with any of those women. I remember when I helped her off the floor and told her I couldn’t. She called me a pussy. And that’s when the bottle entered the chat. Still, I don’t understand.

“Why was I naked?”

“I don’t know, big dog, you tell me.”

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