“Probably just me, but I don’t think I’ve ever desired to submit to the inefficiencies of a tech support department.”
@SybariticT
Challenge accepted.
Note: This story is a completely fictional fabrication of my fertile mind, aided by a few amusing tweets on the interwebz. Any resemblance to actual people and companies is strictly coincidental. Please know your risks in engaging in kinky play, and always ensure that you are operating with clear, enthusiastic and honest consent.
I knew this was a mistake.
Almost from the time the package arrived on my doorstep, I questioned the wisdom of what I was doing.
I’ve fapped to enough chastity porn to fully understand the consequences of “be careful what you ask for, lest you actually receive it.” Not to mention all of the tropes of mysterious packages appearing in the mail, whereby the hapless sub puts on an unknown device of questionable origins—driven by that intoxicating and dangerous cocktail of curiosity and horniness—only to find themselves locked up tight with no hope of release, subject to the whims of a distant, remote and cruel dominant.
In my case, the package in question came courtesy of Mistress. I was to be her stunt cock, testing a new form of chastity cage. One that for her was mildly disappointing, in that it had no physical key. One that at the same time was very exciting, in that full control of the device was subject to an application on my phone. One that—as I learned the hard way—could be completely removed from my control.
I thought I was being responsible. I tested the device first. I know technology, and I like to think that I’m not an idiot. I charged the cage, installed the app, and subjected myself to the masochistic pain of walking through the registration process. Required to enable location tracking, provide my cell phone number, upload an avatar and to subsequently pair the device. Whoever designed the app, user experience was not a strong suit. You needed to be committed to get through to the end of the process.
I am nothing if not an obedient slut, however. I persevered.
Unlike the app, the cage is a bit of a marvel. Smooth, expensive-feeling plastic—the kind that would not be out of place in a high-end car—and a firmly unrelenting metal ring to lock behind my balls. Inside, enough technology to make my life a living hell, should I not play my cards right. Not just the ability to lock on the device, but also the option to deliver shocks to my nether bits. According to the documentation, this could be done on a schedule, manually triggered or enabled continuously, at varying levels of intensity.
I would need to be a very, very obedient stunt cock.
I tried the timer. Apart from not really updating in real time (and let’s be clear, there is a delicious tension to watching the time inexorably count down, achingly slowly, until your release) it worked. The pairing seemed solid. The lock and unlock button reliably unlocked the device with a quiet snick. Apart from a brief panic when the device put itself to sleep (one of the many features that the documentation failed to mention) the cage did what it was designed to do. It locked when it was told, and it unlocked once it was given permission.
By the time I tried it on for real, I had a level of confidence that nothing untoward would happen.
The device was comfortable. The ring was solid and unyielding. The brief audible whirr and click of a servo enabling the lock seemed a little louder, a little more real. It was on. A firm tug confirmed that it wasn’t about to come off any time soon.
The message from Mistress appeared on the screen mere moments later.
Is it on?
Confirmation resulted in another altogether brief but ominous reply.
Good. Give me control.
This was the ultimate feature of the app. Control of your chastity at a distance. The fantasy for so many. To be tormented and teased and denied, without release, held in the power and submitting to the whim of your keyholder, wherever in the world that they happened to be.
Assigning Mistress keyholder status had immediate effect. All of a sudden, the app interface changed and all of the control features I had tested disappeared. In its place was a count-down timer, one that still didn’t change unless I left the app and went back in. Now I was stuck, with no release until permitted.
According to the timer, that would be in about eight hours.
I thought we would start off easy, and work from there. You’ll be free in the morning. In the meantime, be a good puppy and get some rest. Bed. Leash on the bed post. Now.
Did I mention that I’m an obedient puppy? I was also now a horny and increasingly frustrated puppy. One of the fundamental features of enforced chastity is that you never want more the thing that you cannot have. The craving for touch, for sensation, to cum was overwhelming. I could feel myself trying to get hard in the device. The unyielding form of the cage was having none of that. All I could do was squirm and try to sleep.
I tossed and turned that night. Every 45 to 60 minutes I would wake up, cock attempting to get hard and balls stretched tight as my horny brain sought satisfaction. Fondling the cage did nothing but exacerbate the problem. There was nothing to do but roll over, breathe deeply and try to relax back into sleep. Until the next time I awoke.
I had set my alarm for when I thought the timer was supposed to be released. Finally, as the first rays of dawn crept cautiously through the windows, its blaring klaxon beckoned me awake. I hit mute, again feeling the unfamiliar cage between my legs. I grabbed the phone, and immediately opened up the app.
The counter was indeed at 0:00:00. A button had appeared as well. Not a lock, but something that looked like a paper airplane. I pressed it, and saw a message:
Requesting permission to unlock. Stay on this screen.
I waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing happened. No snick of the lock opening. No change to the screen. I jostled the cage to be sure, and it was just as unyielding as it had been when first locked. I was trapped.
Despite the difference in time zones, I tried messaging Mistress. No answer there, either. Several time zones away, she was unlikely to awake for at least a couple of more hours. With a cold realization that I wasn’t getting out any time soon, I finally got out of bed and got ready for my day.
I finally got a message around mid-day.
Are you okay, pupster?
Explaining the situation, I asked Mistress to release me. I could leave my office, go to the bathroom, and finally get this infernal device off. While it was comfortable, the anxiety of being locked without and the uncertainty of why it would not unlock gnawed in my core.
According to my app, you should be unlocked now. I don’t see anything I can do here, pup.
I guess you should contact technical support.
A quick search of the internet revealed not only an email address, but also that the provider was based in China. It was early afternoon in my time zone, but the business day in Shanghai would not begin for at least another eight hours. I emailed. I marked it urgent. I tried to concentrate as best I could for the afternoon.
One of the things they don’t tell you in the chastity blogs is how much fear and horniness combine.
I thought I understood how the device I now wear works before I put it on. I tried to be cautious. I tried to test it out and ensure it would work the way that it was intended. I thought I was smart.
Now I was its prisoner. My penis was locked beyond reach. Comfortably so, but absolutely shielded from touch. Hard metal encircled my balls, absolutely denying any possibility of release. Whoever designed the cage knew what they were doing. I had questions about whoever designed the app.
My anxiety over release fed into my horniness about being trapped. This was something I had long waited for and that I had wanted. I had begged to be locked up. I wanted Mistress to take control. I was excited when I transferred ownership of the cage to her. But now my cock was in limbo, locked, without a clear understanding of how—or when—it would be released. I should be terrified. So why was I trying to get hard?
The hours of the evening went by slowly. My email was open, waiting for an message from support. The start of business in China came and went. Still the clock wound inexorably onwards, counting seconds and minutes and hours. Finally, shortly before midnight, an answer.
Who are you?
What is your order number?
We can’t find you in our system.
What?
Shock and despair battled for the upper hand. This was not the answer I expected.
Breathing deeply, I tried to take stock of what this meant. I replied with my device ID, my handle, my email address (again) and my repeated request to please help me get the device unlocked.
Resigned to another difficult night locked, I went to bed.
I woke up to yet another response, but once again not what I expected.
Our warranty policy only covers for purchases that are made on our website. You might have to reach out to your seller directly and let them know about the problem and check what coverage they provide for you.
I was flabbergasted. I had searched for the company, and contacted their support page. Why wouldn’t they help me get free?
Recognizing it was still early and I was still very tired, I made myself a coffee and gingerly sat down, the device making its presence assertively known between my legs.
A few minutes of internet searching led me to realize that the device I wore had any number of sales sites, all located in China, all virtually identical. Each with their own warranty policy, each with their own support contact, but each not actually claiming to manufacture the device.
Finally, after drilling deep into the search engine results, I found a site that matched up the manufacturer’s name with some acknowledgement of having created the product. Unlike the slick imagery and overtly flagrant marketing of the sales sites, this one was embarrassingly sparse. A basic information page, a page outlining their products (their flagship being the device currently imprisoning me) and a support email address.
Knowing that the business day there wouldn’t start until well into the evening here, I nonetheless sent the same email to their support contact, and resigned myself to showering, getting ready and heading to work. For all its lightness, the cage weighed heavy around my genitals. I hoped it would be released soon.
The day was one of the longest of my professional career, and yet possibly one of the least productive. I could barely focus on work, and yet could also do nothing about my chastity situation. I was literally locked in limbo. It was not a good feeling. The gnawing anxiety of yesterday had grown to a persistent level of anxious desperation. My penis was locked, my keyholder seemed helpful but indifferent, and my release depended upon getting technical support from a remote team in a country that was literally on the other side of the world.
I finally got a response, once again asking me to confirm my identity, my status and the details of my problem. It was late evening, on the third day of being locked. I again breathed deeply, provided what they asked, and left for work.
Another hard day. Made harder by the fact that no matter how often I looked at my email, there was no reply. Arranging a meeting with a client, I came to a horrific realization. It was Friday morning. In China, it was already Saturday. I probably wouldn’t hear anything until late Sunday night. I was still locked, and there was no hope of release in my future.
Mistress seemed to realize this, too. At least, she was incredibly demanding in her requests of me, both during the day and into the weekend. Even knowing I was locked, I received a message at mid-day on Friday to insert my largest plug and keep it there all weekend. Friday night saw a request for cocksucking training. Then came the expectation that each morning, I should meditate for an hour on my purpose while wearing my most severe nipple clamps.
By the time it rolled into Sunday evening, I was desperately horny, aching, throbbing, desperately needing to release and inordinately frustrated that I couldn’t. Finally, an email arrived in my inbox.
Thank you for providing information about your experience with our product. We have put your cage into diagnostic mode. We will monitor it for the next 72 hours in order to assess its status, and identify any possible problems with communication. Please keep your phone charged and powered on in the meantime, or we will need to restart the testing process. Thank you for your compliance.
I’m ashamed to say that I lost it. The email I sent was not polite. I used more expletives than I thought I knew.
The next response was not from support. It was from Mistress.
Puppy. You are a bad, bad dog. I’m so very disappointed in you…
(Are there words that cut closer to the bone?)
In reviewing your correspondence through my support portal, I see you have been entirely disrespectful and unpleasant. You have put your own needs before others. That is not what I have taught you.
I have escalated your support level to “difficult.” Yes, that’s an option for me. Be aware that I have two more options: “extremely difficult,” and “withhold all service.” I’m sure that you don’t want to experience either of those.
While I sympathize with your plight, I can’t have others thinking that I haven’t trained you properly. You will be polite and respectful. You will be appreciative and thankful to those that are helping you. If you cannot do that, you will be punished. First by them (with my permission). And then by me. I don’t think either of us want that to happen.
I was flabbergasted. First, my keyholder had access to my correspondence with technical support. She also apparently had the ability to identify how helpful they should or should not be in resolving my situation.
I gulped. I felt fear like I have not known it before. I felt so very vulnerable. The anxiety in the pit of my stomach roiled acidly. I also felt utterly turned on. My cock tried so hard to get erect. Until a hard bolt of pain shot through me.
Really, puppy? Is that making you horny?
Do you like when I make things difficult?
Be aware that the device doesn’t just lock you in and administer shocks. It knows when you try to get hard. While I still can’t unlock you, I CAN program how it treats you while you are in the cage.
Any attempted erection from now until release has been programmed to respond with an escalating series of shocks. In case I’m not abundantly clear about what that means, the more horny you get, the worse off you will be.
Behave accordingly.
Taking stock of my reality, I sent a very solicitous email to support, apologizing for my previous inappropriate response and begging them for their assistance in resolving my problem. As I pressed “send,” I reluctantly recognized the lateness of the hour, and once again prepared myself for bed.
I heard nothing for several days. I had hoped for someone to be in response on Wednesday, once the diagnostic period had ended. There was no communication that evening, and when I woke bleary-eyed and anxious on Thursday, my inbox was still entirely empty. I checked my Junk folder forlornly, but even then I knew it was a fool’s errand. I was nothing if not a fool.
Late Thursday night, I finally received a response.
Our tests were inconclusive on the communication problem. We have initiated a more detailed diagnostic, which requires 96 hours to run. Please ensure the device and your phone stay charged and powered on, and that you keep away from any other sources of electromagnetic interference.
Four more days. Getting close to two weeks. I broke down and cried. I tried to find a way out of the device, to no avail. I curse at my phone, but dared not write what I was feeling. Finally, I replied with a simple statement of, “Fine. I’ll wait.”
The response from Mistress was almost instantaneous.
Really, puppy dog? Is that the way I have taught you to behave?
I tried to explain, before belatedly realizing that I was only making it worse.
Maximum difficulty level, puppy. You have disappointed me. You are a very bad dog.
The detailed diagnostics have now been delayed. They will start next Thursday. Be good until then, and by the next week you might be out. Maybe. You won’t hear from me in the meantime.
True to expectations, I heard nothing else. A hard weekend transitioned into an even more difficult week. Finally, late Wednesday night, I got a simple email that said simply said:
Detailed diagnostics initiated.
The good news is that the results should be in on Sunday night. Perhaps by Monday I might be free.
I resigned myself to waiting.
Finally, late Sunday, I received a message from support:
We have reviewed your detailed diagnostics and can confirm that the device is working correctly. We tested an unlock and lock request, and can confirm that the device responded properly.
Gah! There was a brief period where I could have been free, and I missed it!
But there was more:
In communicating with your keyholder, however, she has expressed reluctance to resume control until you have expressed appropriate remorse. She has asked us to determine a remedy that we as a team feel appropriate.
We have consulted internally, and have decided on a resolution. You are to purchase our locking butt pug and our remote cocksucking unit. During our daily briefing, we will choose our daily assignment for you. Your compliance in wearing and performance will be remotely monitored and graded. Provided you successfully complete a month of perfect compliance, we will return control of your devices (all of them) to your keyholder.
Thank you for being a loyal client, and we wish you many years of future enjoyment with our products.
Please reach out to us at any time if you require any further support. We are always ready and able to provide assistance.