Insomnia

When you can’t sleep, you write.

The toilet flushes and the sink water runs. The door opens and he crosses our room and climbs back under the sheets. After a minute or two he rolls over and his breathing slows, drifting off again.

I rub my hands up and down my cramped legs. They are recently shaved (he is in one of his moods where he likes me smooth) and I enjoy the sensation, the feeling of my hands running up and down the recently liberated skin. It’s not my place to make the decision, but I much prefer being smooth, so this suits me well. My hands make their way past my knees and to the top of my legs and then brush against the cock cage. Playing with myself is out of the question, and clearly he thinks I’d be unable to keep my hands off. He’s probably right. But I can play with it by proxy – I reach a few inches below and twist the plug in my ass. Plug rubs prostate, cock jumps. Not against the (stated) rules.

The stated rules for the night: first, do not fall asleep. I’m not sure how I could, in this 2 x 2 x 3 cage, actually fall asleep, I haven’t learned that trick yet. The cage, with its flimsy leather pad between me and the hardwood floor, is on the opposite wall from our bed. It is small, and black, and locked. I sit with my back against the back bars, knees pulled up close to my chest. He was nice to me tonight – other than the cock cage and my usual leather collar I am unrestrained. I am also unclothed, without so much as a jock to keep me company or warm.

Second rule: count the number of times he gets out of bed, to be reported in the morning. If I fall asleep I may miss one and screw up my count, and missing one is not advisable. One night of “Insomnia,” as he calls it, is bad enough. But if I prove I can’t manage a few simple rules I have to repeat the process the next night. One time I screwed up the second night and he made good on his promise of a third. I think he took pity on me as I have no idea how I stayed awake all of that third night. That was, to say the least, an unpleasant week at work.

Third rule: be ready for oral service at any time. He’s been out of bed twice now – first for a blow job and then to piss. The first time is always a BJ, and I think usually before he falls asleep. It follows our nightly pattern of going to bed, and then about ten minutes later my being pressed into service for one final time before we fall asleep. The cage makes it a bit more difficult, but I do the best I can. He seemed to have no complaints, or as near as I could tell he had no complaints. He said nothing as he walked over, got it out, and stuck it through the bars of the cage. He also said nothing when he was done and shuffled away.

Fourth rule: by morning the cage and my body must be completely free of his cum. This is easier said than done. The first time tonight was easy, he stayed in my mouth the whole time. Swallowing right from the spigot, so to speak, makes for a no-mess situation. I remember one time he pulled out and finished with his hand, intentionally making as much of a mess as possible. There was even some on the back wall, but as the rule is “cage and body” I was let off on a technicality. I spent most of the rest of that night running my hands everywhere on my body and cage bars to check for drip-dry.

Fifth rule: do not make any noise which will wake him up. This one is pretty easy to follow. The cage door latches tight. The only real sound I could make would be if I started talking in my sleep (which I do), or if I absolutely positively needed to get out and woke him up by voice. For any safety reason I would, without hesitation. But it would mean breaking a rule, so I would clearly think twice (or thrice) about it.

For a while I try to meditate. Maybe that ate up twenty minutes, maybe forty, maybe only five. I glance down at my cock again and decide it’d be worth the price to play with my nipples. As quietly as I possibly can I move my left hand into position and start twisting and turning the right one, and no sooner do I begin than my dick starts twitching, then not so slowly starting to swell. It will hurt when it reaches the confines of its prison, but maybe that’s part of the point. I decide to glare fate (and pain) in the face and start playing with my plug. It feels so good. In my distraction I start to make faint sounds, my ass squeaking against the leather pad I sit on.

I hear a movement. I freeze. He turns over. He turns over again. This is a dead giveaway that he’s about to get up. Did I wake him up? He sits up, stays there for a second, then hits the floor and makes a line right for the cage. I move forward as best I can, trying to get my legs on the floor and my head toward the front of the very small space. He says nothing as he takes off his boxer briefs, so hopefully my semi-legal masturbation has gone unnoticed. He quickly sticks his dick through the bars and, reaching through the cage on the top, grabs my head and moves it roughly into place. He starts a rapid-fire movement and it’s clear this is a face-fuck, not leisurely fellatio. I do my best to keep my breathing regular, my teeth out of the way, and my throat open. From this angle all of these tasks prove difficult, and I start choking. In, out, in out, it keeps going. Finally I fall as best I can into a rhythm. He moans with pleasure so at least I know I’m doing my job.

I reach a point where I am not sure I can take it any more. By a stroke of luck it seems he can’t take it anymore either, and suddenly pulls out. I hear the familiar sounds of his reaching climax and I try to arrange myself such that my chest is directly under him. I have good luck, or he has good aim, and before I know it my chest and belly are covered with warmth which I cannot see but I know exactly what looks like. His cock comes back through the bars and I clean it up, then it goes away. I hear the sounds of him returning to bed and to sleep.

I am left to clean myself up. I used to hate this part, but it’s growing on me. In this situation it’s best to try to get as much as possible as quickly as possible, so I do just that. I hold it in my mouth for a second, trying to enjoy the taste. I never do, but I hope one day I might. I swallow, then do my best impression of a cat cleaning himself to try to get all the rest. After a while I am satisfied I will pass the morning’s cleanliness test and begin to relax.

It is quiet. It is dark. He is breathing slowly. I attempt to do the same. I run down the list of rules to make sure I’m doing okay. Awake? Yes. The count so far is three. Ready to serve if he gets up. All clean. Completely quiet. If I’m lucky I’ll be in bed with him again tomorrow.