Sissy CEO's Tight Chastity Lock

The late afternoon light slanted through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Andre’s private executive suite, gilding the polished mahogany desk and the leather couch in warm amber. Petra had been summoned with a single terse text: Office. Now. Collar on. She had left her own smaller corner office three floors down without hesitation, the short, pleated skirt of her sissy uniform swishing against her bare thighs, the faint metallic clink of the chastity cage a constant reminder with every step. At thirty-two she lived fully as the locked, decorated pet her forty-one-year-old master desired—smooth legs, padded hips, soft pink lipstick, and that cruel little steel prison locked tight around what she now only ever called her clitty.

The cage was deliberately too small. Andre had chosen it himself months into their power exchange, measuring her soft, shy three inches of flesh with clinical precision before snapping the device shut. The ring bit into the base of her balls, the tube squeezed her shaft so snugly that even the slightest arousal made the metal press ridges into sensitive skin. Right now it ached with that familiar, delicious pressure. Petra’s tiny locked cock throbbed uselessly against the unyielding steel, leaking a steady bead of clear fluid that had already darkened a small patch on the front of her lace panties. She could feel every pulse of frustrated blood, every frustrated twitch that went nowhere. The constant ache kept her wet between the cheeks of her ass, her hole fluttering emptily whenever she thought of Andre’s thick cock.

She knocked once, waited the required five seconds, then pushed the heavy door open and dropped immediately to her hands and knees on the thick carpet. The collar—soft pink leather with a silver O-ring—sat snug at her throat. Her long lashes lowered as she crawled forward, the cage swinging heavily between her spread thighs, tugging and biting with every movement. The sensation dragged a soft whimper from her painted lips.

“Master…” Her voice was high, breathy, already edged with need. “It’s so tight today. My little clitty hurts. It’s swollen and leaking and the bars are digging in. Please—”

Andre didn’t look up from the tablet in his hand at first. He sat behind the massive desk in his charcoal suit, sleeves rolled to expose thick forearms, the open collar of his shirt revealing the strong line of his throat. At forty-one he carried the quiet authority of a man who ran an empire and a locked sissy with equal ease. When he finally set the tablet aside, his dark eyes raked over her crawling form—the way her padded bra pushed her small tits forward, the way the short skirt rode up to flash the pink lace and the cruel glint of metal beneath.

“Closer,” he ordered, voice low and unhurried.

Petra shuffled forward on all fours until her face hovered near his polished shoes. The cage scraped lightly against the carpet; the pressure made her gasp. Andre’s polished toe nudged the steel tube, tilting it so the metal bit harder into the underside of her trapped shaft. Petra’s hips jerked involuntarily. A fresh pulse of slick wetness soaked through her panties and dripped down onto the carpet between her knees.

“Look at you,” Andre murmured, leaning forward. He reached down, two thick fingers sliding under her chin to tilt her face up. “My pretty locked CEO sissy. Thirty-two years old and still squirming like a desperate little slut because her tiny cock can’t get hard. Does it ache, Petra?”

“Yes, Master—so bad.” Her green eyes shone wet with frustrated tears of lust. “Every time I walk it rubs. Every time I sit it presses. I’ve been dripping since lunch just thinking about you looking at it. Please, it’s so tight I can barely think.”

Andre’s free hand drifted lower. He hooked two fingers into the waistband of her panties and peeled them down just enough to free the cage. The steel gleamed under the office lights, shiny with her leaking fluid. Her balls were flushed pink and drawn up tight against the ring; the head of her clitty was visible through the slotted tip, shiny and swollen where it pressed against the metal. Andre traced the outline of the cage with one fingertip, pressing deliberately against the bars so the steel dug into the most sensitive spots.

Petra’s whole body shuddered. A broken little moan spilled out of her. “Master—oh god—please don’t tease. It hurts so good. My clitty’s throbbing. I need—”

“You need what I decide you need.” His finger circled the locked tip, smearing her own precum around the metal, then tapped the underside of the tube hard enough to send a jolt straight through her. “Tell me how it feels. Every detail.”

She swallowed, voice trembling. “It feels like it’s crushing me. The ring is so snug around my balls that they’re full and aching. The tube is too short—my clitty is trying to get hard and it just smashes against the end. Every heartbeat makes it worse. I’m so wet behind… my hole keeps fluttering like it wants you inside while my locked clitty just drips and drips and can’t do anything. Please, Master, it’s been months of this constant ache and I love it but right now I need your cock so badly I can’t stand it.”

Andre’s mouth curved in a slow, satisfied smile. He stood, towering over her, and walked around the desk so he could stand directly in front of her kneeling form. His expensive trousers strained around the thick outline of his cock. He unzipped with deliberate slowness, freeing the heavy length. It sprang out thick and already half-hard, veined, the head flushed dark. Petra’s mouth watered instantly. She leaned forward on instinct, but his hand in her hair stopped her short.

“Not yet.” He stroked himself once, twice, letting her watch. Then he reached down again and cupped the chastity cage fully in his palm, squeezing just enough that the metal compressed her trapped flesh further. Petra cried out, a high, needy sound that echoed in the quiet office. Her hips rolled helplessly against his hand. More precum leaked through the tip slot, coating his fingers.

“Beg properly,” Andre said, voice dropping into that commanding register that always undid her. “Beg for your Master’s cock while I play with your useless locked clitty. Tell me exactly what you want.”

Tears of pure desperate arousal slipped down Petra’s cheeks, smearing her mascara. She kept her eyes locked on his cock even as his fingers continued to torment the cage—pinching, tapping, rolling the whole device so the ring tugged her balls and the tube scraped every hypersensitive nerve.

“Please, Master Andre—please fuck me. My clitty is locked and aching and too small and I love that it can’t get hard for anyone but you, but I need your big cock in my mouth, in my throat, in my sissy hole. I want you to use me over your desk until I can’t walk. I want you to make me thank you for every second this cage bites into me. Please, Master, I’m dripping down my thighs and my hole is empty and hungry and I’ll be so good—just let me feel you. Unlock me later if you want, or never, just please fuck your locked sissy CEO until she breaks.”

Andre’s cock twitched visibly at her words. He released the cage only to slide two spit-slick fingers back between her cheeks, finding the tight, fluttering entrance and pressing in without warning. Petra’s moan turned into a broken sob of relief as those thick fingers sank deep, curling against the spot that made her locked clitty jump uselessly inside its prison. He fucked them in and out slowly, scissoring, stretching, while his other hand returned to torment the steel.

“That’s it. Squirm for me. Feel how wet you get when I own every part of you.” His fingers pumped harder. The wet sounds filled the office. Petra’s thighs trembled; her painted nails dug into the carpet. She pushed back onto his hand shamelessly, the cage swinging and tugging with every rock of her hips. Precome dripped steadily from the tip of the device onto the floor.

Andre leaned down, lips brushing her ear while his fingers worked deeper. “Tonight you’re going to stay locked. You’re going to come only from my cock in your ass, if I let you come at all. And you’re going to thank me for every second this little steel bitch keeps your clitty useless. Understand?”

“Yes—yes, Master—thank you—” Petra’s voice cracked. Her body was a live wire of need. The dual torment of the too-tight cage and his thick fingers had her shaking, dripping, hole clenching greedily around the intrusion. She could feel how close she was to something vast and overwhelming, even locked. The ache had become a constant, sweet agony that made her mind blank except for him.

He pulled his fingers free suddenly, leaving her empty and gasping. Then he wiped them across her parted lips. Petra licked greedily, tasting herself. Andre’s cock was fully hard now, a thick, heavy club that she wanted more than breath. He guided the head to her mouth but didn’t let her take it yet—just rubbed the slick crown across her lipstick, smearing precum over the soft pink.

“Keep begging,” he ordered quietly. “I want to hear how badly my locked little CEO needs to be ruined.”

Petra’s tongue darted out, tasting him, while the cage continued its relentless, delicious cruelty between her legs. The office air was thick with the scent of her arousal and the quiet sounds of her desperate, broken pleas. Outside the windows the city lights were beginning to glitter, but inside the only thing that mattered was the heavy pulse of need between them—the locked, aching clitty and the dominant CEO who held every key.

Petra’s tongue flicked desperately over the fat head of Andre’s cock, tasting the salty bead of precum as she kept begging between wet, needy licks. “Please, Master—please ruin your locked sissy CEO. My clitty is throbbing so hard inside this tiny cage it feels like it’s going to split. I need your thick cock stretching my hole until I forget I ever had anything between my legs except this aching steel. Fuck me over your desk. Make me drip and sob and thank you for keeping me useless.”

Andre’s fingers tightened in her hair, guiding just the first thick inch past her lipstick-smeared lips. Petra moaned around him, cheeks hollowing as she sucked greedily, saliva already shining down her chin. The cage between her thighs pulsed with every heartbeat, the too-small tube crushing her swollen clitty so that even the simple act of breathing made the metal ridges dig deeper. She could feel how full her balls were, trapped snug against the ring, aching for a release that only he could decide to grant—or deny. Her hole clenched emptily around nothing, still slick from his earlier fingers, fluttering in time with the wet sounds of her mouth working his cock.

He let her worship him for long minutes, hips rolling shallowly so the heavy shaft glided over her tongue. Petra’s eyes watered with effort and lust, mascara streaking further as she took him deeper, gagging softly when the head nudged the back of her throat. Every time she bobbed forward the cage swung and tugged, the constant bite of steel turning her thoughts into one long, molten plea. Andre watched her with dark, hooded eyes, the corner of his mouth curling as she drooled and whimpered around his length.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Look at my pretty little CEO choking on cock while her locked clitty leaks all over my carpet. You were never meant to use that tiny thing, were you? Just a decoration. A reminder.” He pulled free with a wet pop, leaving her gasping, lips shiny and swollen. “Stand up. Over the desk. Now.”

Petra scrambled to her feet on trembling legs, the short pleated skirt already flipped up around her waist from crawling. Andre spun her bodily, one strong hand between her shoulder blades shoving her forward until her padded tits and painted face pressed flat against the cool, polished mahogany of his CEO desk. Papers scattered. The tablet clattered aside. She arched her back instinctively, presenting her ass, the pink lace panties stretched tight over the curve of her cheeks and the heavy steel cage nestled beneath.

Andre yanked the panties down in one rough motion, the fabric catching briefly on the cage before sliding to her thighs. Cool office air kissed her bare skin, the exposed steel gleaming under the amber light. He gripped the chastity device hard in one fist, tugging it backward so the ring bit cruelly into the base of her balls and the tube scraped every hypersensitive inch of her trapped shaft. Petra cried out, a raw, slutty moan that filled the suite. Her hips jerked, pushing back toward him even as the pain-pleasure ripped through her.

“Listen to that,” Andre growled, lining the thick head of his cock against her slick, fluttering hole. “My locked sissy already moaning like a whore and I haven’t even opened her yet.” He shoved forward in one relentless thrust, burying half his length inside her tight heat. Petra’s mouth fell open against the desk, a broken sob of pure relief tearing free. The stretch burned so perfectly—thick, veined cock forcing her open, grinding against her prostate on the very first stroke while his fist kept a merciless hold on the cage.

He bottomed out with a wet slap of hips, then set a hard, punishing rhythm. Every thrust drove deep, rocking her against the polished wood. Every withdrawal dragged the head over that swollen spot inside her that made her locked clitty jump and leak uselessly. And with every single slam of his hips he yanked the cage backward, tugging her tiny balls and crushed shaft in perfect time with the fucking. The dual torment—prostate pounded, clitty cruelly squeezed and pulled—turned Petra into a writhing, babbling mess.

“Oh fuck—Master—yes—pull it—fuck your locked slut harder—” She pushed back greedily onto every stroke, ass cheeks rippling as she met him, the cage swinging and glinting between her spread thighs. Clear fluid dripped steadily from the tip slot onto the carpet in a growing puddle. Her green eyes were glassy, unfocused, mascara ruined. “It’s so tight—my clitty hurts so good—thank you for locking it—thank you for making it useless—”

Andre leaned over her, chest pressed to her back, free hand fisting her hair so her head arched. His voice was a low, filthy growl right against her ear as he pounded her open. “That’s right. This little steel bitch is all your clitty will ever feel. Look at it bouncing and leaking while my real cock owns your hole. Thirty-two years old, running a company floor, and all you can think about is how good it feels when Master tugs your locked sissy clit and wrecks this greedy ass. You’re dripping like a bitch in heat. Tell me what you are.”

“Your locked sissy whore—your useless CEO pet—oh god, Master, pull it harder—” Petra’s voice cracked into high, slutty moans with every thrust. The desk creaked under them. Her hole clenched and fluttered greedily around the thick invasion, soaking his cock with slick. The constant tug on the cage sent sharp, electric jolts straight to her core until her entire world narrowed to the stretch of him and the delicious agony of her trapped flesh.

He fucked her like that until her thighs shook and her moans turned continuous, then pulled out suddenly. Petra whimpered at the emptiness. Andre spun her around, sat heavily in his leather executive chair, and hauled her into his lap facing away—reverse cowgirl, her back to his chest. He gripped her hips, lined up again, and yanked her down onto his cock in one brutal drop. Petra screamed in pleasure as he filled her completely, the angle even deeper, the head punching her prostate relentlessly.

“Ride it,” he ordered, one hand still locked around the chastity cage, the other splayed across her soft belly. “Bounce on Master’s cock like the desperate locked slut you are. Show me how that tiny caged cocklette bounces while you take every inch.”

Petra obeyed instantly, lifting and dropping her hips in a frantic, shameless rhythm. The short skirt fluttered. Her padded bra bounced. And between her legs the too-tight cage swung and jolted with every rise and fall, the steel tube smacking uselessly against nothing while Andre’s fist kept a vicious grip, tugging downward on every downstroke so the ring crushed her balls and the bars scraped her swollen, leaking tip. She could feel how small and pathetic it looked—her three inches of locked clitty trapped and bouncing, dripping precum in clear strands that stretched and broke with the motion.

Andre’s hips punched up to meet her, growling filthy praise against the side of her throat. “That’s it. Use that sissy hole. Feel how your locked clitty just flaps around while my cock ruins you. Useless little thing. Can’t even get hard. Just a pretty locked decoration for Master to play with while he fucks his CEO pet senseless. You’re going to come on my cock with that cage still locked, aren’t you? Hands-free like a good locked bitch.”

Petra’s head fell back against his shoulder, mouth open, moans pouring out raw and continuous. “Yes—Master—I’m so close—my clitty is throbbing so hard it hurts—please don’t stop tugging—fuck—I’m going to come just from your cock in my ass—” Her walls fluttered and squeezed rhythmically around him. The prostate pounding was relentless, each deep grind lighting her up from the inside while the cruel yanking on the cage kept her locked clitty in constant, frustrated agony. No hand touched her front. Nothing but the dual assault of thick cock and steel torment.

The orgasm crashed through her without warning—a full-body seizure of pleasure that locked her thighs and arched her spine. She screamed his name, hole milking his cock in frantic pulses as she came hands-free, clear fluid jetting weakly from the tip of the cage in pathetic spurts that painted his expensive trousers and the chair. Her locked clitty jerked and twitched inside the too-small tube the entire time, unable to swell, unable to do anything but leak and ache while the prostate climax ripped her apart. Tears of overwhelmed bliss streaked her cheeks. She kept bouncing through it, riding him hard, pushing back onto every upthrust as if she could take him even deeper.

Andre held the cage tight through her entire climax, growling praise against her ear—“That’s my good locked slut, coming with your clitty in its prison, soaking Master’s cock with that greedy hole”—and only when her tremors began to slow did he ease the vicious grip. He was still rock-hard inside her, thick and throbbing, clearly nowhere near finished. Petra slumped back against his chest, gasping, hole still twitching around him, the cage a hot, heavy weight of ongoing ache between her legs. The office smelled of sex and her perfume and the faint metallic tang of the chastity device. Outside the windows the city glittered fully now, but neither of them looked away from the wet, wrecked mess they had made of each other.

He nuzzled the side of her throat, voice still rough with dominance and dark promise. “We’re not done, Petra. That was just the first one. You’re staying locked. And Master still has a full cock that needs using.” His hips gave a slow, deliberate roll inside her oversensitive hole, making her whimper and clench all over again as fresh need sparked under the aftershocks.

Andre’s hips rolled again inside her oversensitive hole, slow and grinding, the thick head of his cock dragging deliberately over her prostate until Petra’s breath hitched into another broken whimper. The aftershocks of her locked orgasm still fluttered through her walls; every subtle shift made her clench greedily around him while the too-tight cage between her thighs pulsed with fresh, useless throbs. Clear fluid continued to bead at the slotted tip, a sticky reminder that her clitty could only leak and ache no matter how hard she came.

“Again,” he growled against her throat, one hand still fisted around the steel prison, the other splayed low on her soft belly so he could feel every desperate squeeze of her hole. “Bounce. Take every drop Master’s going to give you.”

Petra lifted and dropped with renewed desperation, the short pleated skirt fluttering around her hips, padded bra bouncing. The cage swung and jerked with every rise, the ring biting deeper into the base of her full balls, the too-small tube crushing her swollen three inches until bright sparks of pain-pleasure shot straight up her spine. She could feel how pathetic and perfect it looked—tiny locked clitty flopping and dripping while a real cock split her open. Andre met every bounce with a powerful upward thrust, the wet slap of skin echoing through the executive suite. His free hand slid up to pinch one lace-covered nipple through the padded bra, twisting just hard enough to make her cry out.

“Master—yes—fill me—please fill your locked sissy—” Her voice cracked into high, continuous moans. Interior thoughts dissolved into pure sensation: the relentless grind against that swollen spot inside, the merciless tug on the cage that kept her clitty smashed and throbbing, the heavy knowledge that she would stay locked no matter how hard she came. She was thirty-two, a CEO in her own right three floors down, and yet the only empire that mattered was the one between her Master’s legs and the steel he had locked around her useless flesh.

Andre’s rhythm turned savage. He yanked her down hard onto every stroke, burying himself to the hilt so his balls slapped against the cold metal of her cage. Petra’s hole fluttered and milked him frantically. She came a second time without warning—another hands-free seizure that locked her thighs and arched her back, more weak jets of clear fluid spurting from the tip of the cage onto his trousers while her ass convulsed around his cock. Tears of overwhelmed bliss streaked fresh tracks through her ruined mascara.

That rhythmic squeezing finally dragged him over. Andre buried deep with a guttural groan, hips stuttering as thick, hot ropes of cum flooded her ass. Petra felt every pulse—heavy, scalding spurts painting her insides, overflowing almost immediately so that warm rivulets began to leak out around his shaft and drip down over the chastity cage itself. She sobbed in gratitude, hole rippling to milk every drop, locked clitty twitching uselessly in its prison as if jealous of the real orgasm pouring into her.

“Thank you, Master—thank you for filling me—oh god it’s so much—” She kept grinding back even after he finished, savoring the wet heat, the way his cock stayed thick and twitching inside her cum-stuffed hole.

He held her there for long minutes, breathing hard against her neck, hand still possessively cupped around the steel. Only when his pulse began to slow did he lift her off his cock. A thick gush of his seed immediately spilled from her open, puffy hole, running in creamy streaks down the backs of her thighs and over the gleaming cage. Petra whimpered at the sudden emptiness and the filthy warm mess.

“Kneel.”

She slid to the carpet on trembling legs, the short skirt still rucked around her waist, panties tangled at her knees. Cum continued to leak from her used hole in slow, heavy drips that soaked into the carpet between her spread thighs. Andre remained seated in the leather chair, thighs open, his cock glistening and half-hard, smeared with her slick and his own thick release. Petra crawled forward until her face hovered inches from him. The scent of sex and dominance filled her nose. Without being told she leaned in and began to clean him with slow, devoted licks.

Her pink tongue swept from base to tip, gathering every smear of cum and her own juices. She moaned softly at the taste—salty, musky, perfect. When she reached the head she opened wide and took him into her mouth, cheeks hollowing as she suckled gently, tongue working every ridge and vein until he was shiny and clean. Saliva mixed with the last traces of seed and ran down her chin. The cage between her legs felt heavier than ever, still dripping both her frustrated fluid and the cum that had run over it; every slight movement made the too-tight tube dig fresh ridges into her trapped clitty. She kept her eyes up, green gaze locked on his face while she worshiped, interior thoughts a blissful loop of owned, locked, his.

Andre’s fingers slid into her hair, not forcing, just resting with quiet ownership as she finished. When his cock was spotless he eased her back. His voice came low and warm, still rough with spent pleasure.

“Thank you for being such a perfect locked sissy, Petra.” He cupped her cheek, thumb brushing away a streak of mascara and spit. “My thirty-two-year-old CEO pet who runs her floor by day and drips for Master by night. You take cock like you were made for it. You come with that tiny clitty smashed in steel like the good little locked whore you are. Perfect.”

He reached down one last time and gave the chastity cage a firm, possessive squeeze, making her gasp as the metal compressed her aching flesh. “This stays exactly where it is. Too tight. Permanent. Every step you take, every time you sit at your desk, every night you try to sleep—you’ll feel this steel biting your useless clitty and remember who owns you. No key. No relief. Just my cum leaking out of your pretty hole and this cage reminding you that you belong to me.”

Petra’s eyes shone wet with fresh tears of pure devotion. “Yes, Master. Thank you. I’ll keep it locked forever if you want. I’ll go home aching and full of you and dripping and think only of how perfectly you own your sissy CEO.”

He helped her stand on shaky legs, tugged her lace panties back up so they immediately soaked through with the mixture of his cum and her own endless leak. The short pleated skirt fell back into place, hiding nothing of the heavy outline of the cage or the wet streaks already darkening the fabric of her thighs. He straightened her collar, smoothed her hair, and pressed a final kiss to her forehead that felt more claiming than tender.

“Go home, Petra. Sleep in the mess I made of you. Dream of this cage. Tomorrow you’ll walk into your office still locked, still sore, still mine.”

She left the suite on unsteady heels, every step a fresh torment of steel ridges grinding against her swollen, leaking clitty and warm cum trickling down the insides of her thighs. The elevator ride felt endless; the cool lobby air kissed the wet spots on her skirt. Outside, city lights blurred as she walked the few blocks to her building, hole fluttering around the thick load still seeping from her, locked cocklette throbbing in constant, delicious agony. By the time she reached her apartment she was a wreck of blissful submission—aching, dripping, thoroughly and permanently owned.

She locked the door behind her, leaned back against it, and finally let the full weight of the evening settle into her bones. The too-tight chastity cage remained exactly where Andre had left it, a cruel forever reminder clenched around her small cock, while his cum continued its slow escape down her legs. She had never felt more complete.

And in that perfect owned haze the truth rearranged itself like a key turning backward in a lock she had never noticed: the cage on Petra’s clitty was only the visible half of the game—because every night after she left, Andre snapped an identical too-tight steel prison around his own cock and whispered her name while he ached just as uselessly for the sissy CEO who truly held both keys.