Chapter 19 : Dinner With Allison

"George," the voice on the telephone was Allison's. "I'm glad I caught you in. I thought you might come to dinner again. I know I wasn't very sympathetic about your condition. Perhaps I can make up for it with another meal?

"It wasn't any problem," George said, reluctant to get into any deeper discussion about just why he was wearing the cage over his cock. "Honestly. I'm sorry that I hadn't said anything before."

"I don't blame you," Allison replied. "It a very difficult thing to cope with I'm sure. I was talking to a friend of mine and she told me all about it."

"Oh really?" George was puzzled as to how sense might have been made of his imaginary condition.

"Yes," Allison responded. "What did she say it was called — '210605 Syndrome' — I'd never heard of anything like it."

"No well, oh!" George suddenly realised the significance of the numbers. 21-06-05 were the numbers on the tag that secured the plastic tube that still kept his cock imprisoned. There was only one person who could have told Allison the numbers; Erica. His reaction was immediate. A hot flush of embarrassment, his mouth dry at the realisation that Allison and Erica had been discussing him and his cock stiffening painfully against its constraints were the results.

"So," Allison went on, "why don't you come to dinner — tonight, shall we say, and you can explain to me all about your painful condition and we'll see if it agrees with what my friend told me. How about that?"

"Err, all right," George agreed, uncertain of what else he could say.

When George arrived at Allison's he was feeling even more trepidation than he felt these days turning up at Erica's. It was the uncertainty, he supposed, that was making him feel so nervous and causing the collar of his shirt to feel stiffer than it normally would. He pulled at his tie as he approached Allison's front door. George wasn't someone that did "smart casual"; the best he could manage was a sports jacket and trousers to go with his shirt and tie rather than the suit he normally wore.

Then there was the problem of the social etiquette. For a dinner party as a rule it was polite to turn up with flowers or wine or chocolates as he had before. Did that apply when the hostess had announced that she wanted to discuss with you why you had your cock locked in a cage to which you didn't have the key? And then there was the problem of the greeting kiss. One cheek? Two cheeks? Her feet? Probably not, George thought, as he swallowed hard and pressed the door bell.

Allison opened the door with a warm smile that still didn't help George to feel relaxed. "Come in," she said, "let's try again, shall we?"

George nodded. "Yes, well, I'm sorry. It was all rather embarrassing. I'm sorry."

"I quite understand." Allison took his coat and gestured to the living room where they had shared their Chinese meal so tensely a week before.

George stood nervously until Allison returned with a gin and tonic for each of them to drink. "Do sit down," she said. "I think we have quite a bit to discuss, don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose so," George replied diffidently. "You've been speaking to Erica..."

"Erica is it?" Allison said with a mischievous twinkle. "Really?"

"Sorry. I mean Ms Wilkie."

Allison raised an eyebrow as much as to say, I think you mean 'Mistress', not 'Ms' but said nothing.

George continued. "You used those numbers — 21 06 05 — did she explain what they mean?"

"Oh yes, George. Erica and I exchange many confidences. Perhaps I should explain first of all. I have been having therapy from Ms Wilkie for some time. I was worried that my shyness was a problem to me, holding me back, stopping me from finding out what I really wanted, stopping me from pursuing it."

George nodded, listening closely.

"Well, you will understand that some of her therapy is a little unorthodox. All I can say is that in asking me to experiment with some different roles, Erica has helped me to discover something that I enjoy very much indeed." Allison paused, making sure that she had George's full attention. "Cock!"

George spluttered with shock and almost dropped his drink.

"That's right, George, I've found that what really fulfils me is being filled full. Actually I don't mind much whether it's a male member or something more artificial but the sensation of feeling something rigid inside me is one that I have come to enjoy greatly. Of course I love the other little amusements that go on around the act too but what I really like is cock, thick, hard, hot, tumescent cock. And Erica tells me you have rather a nice one."

"Uhh." George almost whimpered in response. He hadn't ever thought of himself as being particularly well endowed.

"You are one of her slaves, aren't you? As well as doing her accounts?"

George nodded. "Yes, I suppose you could say that. It was sort of an accident really." He stopped as Allison looked sceptical. "I men it didn't start out with me intending that. I was just expecting to do her accounts. I didn't even know what the business was about, really, until well, until I'd said I would do it."

"And you couldn't refuse Erica could you? Of course you couldn't!"

George looked down. "No," he said, "I couldn't. It really was an accident, my getting involved, but once I had I didn't want it to stop. I find her compelling."

"Well, I'm sure you will find me compelling too." Allison didn't wait for George to question her assumption. "Now tell me about your cage." She folded her hands in her lap and looked directly at him, with an expression as impassive as if she had just asked him to describe his car or his job.

George, while still feeling embarrassed by the fact that Allison and Erica had been discussing his slavery, found it hard to do other than respond to Allison's directness. He swallowed and began. "Err. I'm not sure how to explain," he said. "Erica put this device on me. She holds the key. I can't remove it. Whenever I get an erection my cock presses against the cage, it can be quite painful if I don't distract myself somehow."

George looked across at Allison, she was looking at him attentively, studying his every move. Standing there in her tight black ski-pants, spike heeled boots and clinging black sweater, she looked every bit as dominant as any of the women he had met through Erica. As his mind wandered momentarily, his cock stiffened in fetishistic response, crushing itself against the walls of its cage. "Aah!" George exclaimed, involuntarily.

Allison smiled. "Well," she said, "it's nice to know I have that effect. There's a bit more though, isn't there. You implied that Erica asked you to wear this, didn't you? I didn't think that was really the case, talking to her about it." Allison was standing with her arms folded and her feet slightly apart looking directly at him, defying him to deny that it had been his idea to ask Erica to allow him to wear the device.