Unexpected Haircut pt. 2.5 (Patreon)

"Now, try this on," he says and hands me a cream white sweatshirt with a big Lonsdale logo across the chest. I do as he says and replaces the tight T-shirt with the looser sweatshirt. It's barely on before his dick is in me again, slowly massaging my prostrate. The chastity device is back on, and my dick is painfully struggling inside it, leaking precum like crazy. Too bad, since I'm now half-wearing some Puma joggers. He wants to make sure all of the clothes fit before I leave, as he still has all the receipts. And apparently he wants to have sex with me in every single piece of my new wardrobe. "We must test them under realistic conditions," he said which made me blush. And test we did. He put on a cock ring and we've gone from room to room, doing different positions on different furniture, swapping out one piece of clothing at a time. I don't know why I'm surprised by his stamina. He owns several gyms and looks like it.

"I think this is the last one," and hands over a pair of glossy adidas shorts, light blue with dark blue stripes. As I put them on he carefully removes his cock ring. "Let's finish in bed. You ride me as hard as you can, keeping the shorts on as far up as you can." He lies down comfortably on the bed, naked except for a T-shirt, with his arms behind his head. He closes his eyes. I climb into the bed, straddles him, lowers my shorts a bit, and carefully inserts his dick into my now well-loosened hole. His faint smile grows into more of a proper smile. I want him to enjoy this. I don't know if that means I want him to last as long as possible or to squeeze out another load from his as quickly as possible. I start to lift and lower myself on his dick, and find the right angle to rock back and forth that feels the most like what he had been doing for the past however long it's been. Once I find that I try to match the frequency that he seemed to keep for most of the time. I'm hoping he has shown me, inadvertently or on purpose, what is best for him.

I can feel a slight squirm below me, and continue just the same. Then there is a moan, and I know for sure I'm doing things right. He hasn't let anything slip out during the entire evening. I would like to speed up, but know that no matter what I do I will not come again tonight, not while in the cage, so I keep doing the same. It goes on for what probably feels like much longer than it actually is, until I hear the best sound I've ever heard. A deep squeal over and over, as I feel him pumping cum into me. Then we both remain still for a moment, me sitting with his dick up in me. Then he opens his eyes, looks at me, and asks "Do you want to watch me shower?"

He has a rather large bathroom directly adjacent to his bedroom. As I climb off him he tells me to pull up my shorts and "keep it in", meaning his cum. He athletically jumps out of bed. I do as he said and follow him into the bathroom, where he directs me to sit on the floor, looking into the shower. With slow and deliberate motions he steps into the shower and turns on the water. The water makes his white T-shirt cling to his body, and reveals his pecs and abs through the fabric. He isn't posing exactly, but he certainly isn't just taking a shower either. It's like a porn movie playing out right in front of me. I sit cross-legged on the bathroom floor, trying my best to keep his seed in my ass while my dick continues to strain the cage. He is taking off the T-shirt and slowly and deliberately lather himself with soap, taking care to not miss anything. The legs, the ass, almost masturbating when cleaning the foreskin, the front, the armpits. It's the sexiest thing I've ever witnessed. He rinses thoroughly, picks a bottle of shampoo, and thoroughly lathers his hair while the water streams down the rest of his body. His movements are exaggerated, clearly putting on a show for me. Finally he lets the water clear out the foam from his hair. He makes a few flexing poses in the water before turning it off. He then takes just as much care with a large, fluffy bath towel to dry himself.

"The shower is all yours. Try the green bottle. I'll prepare your room." he says and leaves me just as horny as this morning, despite hours of fucking.

I strip, step into the shower and turn on the water. He has one of those really wide showerheads up high, creating something more like rain than a normal shower. The warm water feels fantastic on my sore, exhausted body, and it makes a completely new sensation on my head. I lose track of time as I just stand there soaking while what we just did flashes through my mind. The green bottle, I recall as my gaze is unfocused on the rack of hair and body products. The "refreshing and revitalizing menthol, eucalyptus and tea tree" soap lingers and tickles, like a chemical reaction with the skin, and makes it even more sensitive to the impact of the rainfall. I'm again lost in thought for I don't know how many minutes before I reluctantly turn off the water, dry myself with another towel. With neither Lonsdale shirt, adidas shorts, nor socks obviously ruined, I put them all back on and go look for Chris.

I find him in the guest bedroom. He has just finished collecting all my new clothes from all over the place and put them in a pile on the sofa in the room.  He is back in jeans and shirt. "We have so much to do tomorrow, I think it is best we go to bed now. You look so good in that. You should sleep in it. See if you like it."

After he left I'm considering what he said. On the one hand it felt really wrong to sleep wearing clothes, especially these ones I'd just had sex in. On the other this was his weekend to control, so why not try it? Was it his weekend to control? I decide to try it anyway and exhausted I immediately fall asleep.

His footsteps outside the door wake me up.

"Breakfast's ready in the kitchen. You're ready?" he says and leaves without waiting for an answer? A bit sleep drunk I wonder why he would think I'm ready, until I realize the bedside lamp is still lit and I'm lying on top of the bed wearing socks, shorts, and a sweatshirt. I step out of bed and immediately feel sore in places unfamiliar to me.

In the kitchen Chris is sitting on a barstool by a small kitchen table, already eating from a bowl. He is dressed much more relaxed than yesterday, T-shirt and shorts. He motions for me to take a seat at another barstool with a similar bowl in front of it. As I get closer I see it is full of fruits and stuff, but I can see from his already started bowl that there is yogurt below.

We eat in silence until he finishes his bowl. Then he then lays out his plans for the day. We'll start with some cardio, because he does every day. As he says it I feel the soreness from yesterday a little extra. After cardio he has an outdoor surprise for me, and then back at his place to relax and have a soft evening at home.

"Sounds great," I say without actually having any details on any of the things he talked about. I swallow the last spoonful of yogurt.

"Ok, let's go."

"Like this?" Just as I say it I realize that the shorts and sweatshirt I'm wearing are perfectly fine gym clothes, as are basically everything in my new wardrobe.

"Add shoes perhaps," he says and winks at me, and puts both our bowls and spoons in the dishwasher.

I put on my new Air Max TN and he some adidas running shoes, and we exit the building.

"Ok, keep up with me," he says and dashes off. I do my best to keep up, but cardio isn't my thing. Sure, I spend all my day walking and carrying stuff, so I'm not a couch potato, but it's walking, not running. It only takes a few blocks before my breathing is getting loud. There is a park to our right, and he leads me in there and stops by the first bench.

"Take a seat," he says with an effortless voice. I sit down, and he right next to me. He grabs my arm and puts a finger on my wrist to feel my pulse. He concentrates on his oversized, black wristwatch. "Ok, let's sit here for a few minutes."

I realize I'm checking him out. Again. He looks so relaxed, watching the pedestrians outside the park. He grabs my arm and checks my pulse a second time. "Ok, let's make a slow jog around the park and then back home." We don't share the definition of "slow jog" and I'm tasting blood all the way around the park and back to his place, but at least I'm not worried about killing myself.

When we step in through his front door my legs tremble. I have no idea how we can do anything more today. "Go upstairs and swap into the grey Nike tracksuit," he tells me. I kick off my shoes and wobble up the stairs to do as told. I keep the socks on, but replace the shirt and shorts. I would normally shower, but whatever I sweated during the sprint dried up during the jog.

Back down the stairs I see that Chris has changed into something quite different from what I've seen him in before. He's wearing a black hoodie, black Nike joggers, and the same running shoes. In his hands he is holding one of those radio-controlled anal vibrators, and a tube of lube. "Ready for a different game?"

"Yeah, I guess I am."
"Your shoes first."

My shoes are still warm from the run. Then I drop the joggers, bend forward, and I can feel the vibrator slide in easily, right up to my prostate. Once outside again he says "Let's try it" and rubbed my head at the same time as I could feel a quick vibration in my ass. It's sent a shudder of pleasure through my body. Fuck that felt good.

"Ok, I'll explain what we are going to do. I'm going to give you small tasks, and you have to do them without giving away when I zap you. Ok?"
"Yep."
We exit his place, and only a few buildings down the street he stops and hands me a tenner.
"I want to you go into Saeed's over there and act suspicious by the beer fridge. Once I buzz you pick a can of lager, pay, and come out with it."
"Suspicious?"
"Well, loitering. Shouldn't be hard."

With that, I walk across the street into the small supermarket. I don't really know what acting suspicious would look like, so I walk slowly down the aisles picking up stuff, looking at them, and putting them back as if I'm not really interested in any of them. I also try to keep out of sight from Saeed or whoever is at the checkout counter. It's not that big of a place, so I'm soon a the back by the fridges, and it doesn't take many minutes to look through all the brands of beer and soda in there. Still no signal, so I do the same as I did with the shelves. Open fridges, pick up cans to look at them and then put them back.

"Can I help you?" the cashier asks me from the other end of the aisle. He's in his fifties and looks middle eastern.
"No, I'm fine," I answer, and continue to aimlessly eye the cans.
"What are you looking for?" He is still keeping his distance.
"Just a beer."
"Buy one or not, but do it now." I'm not sure what it is I'm hearing in his voice. It's something unsettling and unfamiliar. Is it anxiety? Fear? I don't know what to say or do, so I just continue to stare through the glass door of the fridge.
"Leave. I want you to leave," he continues. At that moment I can feel the tingle of the radio-controlled bullet in my ass spreading its vibrations through my body. My locked dick helplessly strains against its confines. I'm a confused mixture of emotions. I'm horny as fuck again, surprisingly, but I'm also feeling bad for having caused Saeed or whoever his distress.
"I'll have this one," I say, grabbing a cold Heineken from the fridge in front of me. He doesn't see me, I realize. He sees a skinhead in a grey sweatshirt and joggers trying to nick some beer cans from him.
"£1.49," he says, remaining in place, looking at me. I walk up to him and hand him the tenner I had stuffed into my pocket. He grabs it and walks over to the register to bring my change.

"What the fuck was that?" I ask Chris when I'm out of the store. "It was embarrassing. I think I scared him."
"We have work to do then. Open the can and have a sip."

Next up is a string of clothing stores, a book store, and some other small shops where Chris has me sip my Heineken until I'm asked to leave. Instead of having the vibrator as any cue, Chris is just buzzing that whenever he feels like. Sometimes it's when I drink from the can, sometimes when someone notices me, sometimes I can't figure out at all why he pressed the button. When we walked through a sports store together he buzzed whenever we looked at clothes he approved of. With the can long since empty and more of a prop he tells me to bin it and we enter the lobby of a small hotel that looks upscale.

"Tell the staff you need to piss and ask where the loo is," Chris directs me. I walk up to the check-in counter and halfway through the sentence I get a shock of vibrations on full blast so my voice shifts noticeably. I must look like a lunatic or drunk. Despite this I'm directed to the bathroom by the stone-faced manager. At the urinal, just as I'm about to bring out my dick I remember I'm locked and decide to use one of the stalls instead, in case someone else enters. But then I realize I can't sit down because I might lose the vibrator. Standing there with the cage in hand I'm afraid I might dribble all over the joggers, and wet stains would show really well on the light grey fabric, so I lower them all the way to my ankles before I start pissing.

"You took your time," Chris remarked as I met him in the lobby on my way out.
"Yeah, I'm still getting used to the cage."
"Ready for lunch?" I first thought that would be a bit early, and I don't have a watch or my phone with me, so I haven't been checking the time. When I glance at the wall clock in the lobby I see to my surprise it's already well past noon.
"Yeah, I'm actually a bit hungry," I realize.

We walk a couple of blocks while Chris explains that he and his father would always have a walk on Saturdays to a chippy near where he grew up, so the first thing he would always do when he moved somewhere was to try out all the local chippy shops to find the one that resembled his memory the best. "So is this one the one you like best?" I ask as he stops us outside an ordinary-looking fish and chips shop. "Nah. This one is good." He orders two fried haddocks with chips and two beers. Then all throughout the meal he pushes the vibrator button every time I attempt to drink. The first time I dribbled some beer on the front of my sweatshirt. The second time I spit out some on my chips, but the rest of them I was ready for.

"I'm a board-licensed massage therapist," he says once we are back at his place. "Would you like a thorough full body massage?" What kind of stupid question is that. Of course I would like one. "It can be quite the experience," he warns and brags at the same time. He tells me to get naked, except for the socks. He brings out a foldable massage table from a closet and sets it up in the middle of the upper living room, and tells me to lie down on it. He studies me for a moment. "I want to use some oils. I want you to glisten like an oiled-up porn star. Can I shave you?" I feel dumb for thinking that he already did shave me, only to too slowly realize he means all the body. "Yes," I answer, still without not entirely having thought it through. But once already answered I couldn't really think of any good reason not to.

"You just relax. Close your eyes if you want," he says and leaves the room. I decide to do as he says and shut my eyes. He comes back a few minutes later and puts down a tray next to me. He grabs my right arm and moves it up over my head. He wipes my armpit with a damp towel and I can feel shaving cream being applied. Is he using a brush? Somehow I don't want to look, content just feeling it. Then I feel the razor gliding across the skin. Then another wipe with the towel. Despite moving slowly and deliberately it's over in a blink, like he has practiced this a lot of times. Then the same on the other side. Move the arm, wipe, brush, shave, wipe.

His hand moves across my front, and I can feel him rubbing the trail below my belly button, but he doesn't wipe or brush or shave. Instead he picks something from the tray and then there is the click of the lock of the dick cage. Again, a few deliberate movements and my dick is free. Wipe. Brush. This time he is taking a lot of care with the razor, whatever type it is. I really don't want to look now, but somehow I feel like if someone were to hold a razor blade against my dick I want it to be Chris. I can feel him expertly moving up and down the shaft, around the groin, and working on the ballsack while stretching it. I'm having a 90-degree hardon all throughout. I'm a bit surprised given yesterday, but then again he has been teasing me all day.

After he wiped all the area he continues to wipe down the right leg, all the way down to the sock that he scrunches down to my ankle. I'm having a flash of indecision. Would I want shaved legs, but then it hits me how silly it would be to draw the line there, and not when he shaved my head or my nuts. He works on the legs with the same slow efficiency as the rest of the body. Wipe, brush, and then with long strokes he shaves the legs.

Once both legs are done he returns to the tray and I feel something poured on my chest and warmth slowly spreading from it. The smell of locker room eucalyptus confirms some sort of athletic cream is in the mix. He quickly works the liquid all over my upper body, across the chest, to the neck, down the arms, and in my armpits. He takes some more and massages it all over my dick and balls. It's not Bengay, but still quite the sensation, as if I hadn't had a lot of them recently. He continues down each leg.

"Let us wait for that to work a bit. Flip over."
"What?" I open my eyes and almost feel disoriented looking up at Chris. He's wearing a skin-tight white top that shows off his muscles just as well as naked. I'm already fully erect, but I can see from his smirk that he knows what I'm thinking. Almost reluctantly I flip over and put my face into the hole in the padded table.
"Hey, I forgot about this," he says and pulls out the vibrator with a rude slurp sound.