30
Jihun groaned, rubbing his forehead against his desk. Every time the unbearable urge struck, his cock throbbed painfully. The slightest stir of arousal sent the chastity cage digging into him, agony flaring. He’d even wake from nightmares of being gang-raped by men, sobbing from the pain—and the desperate, unfulfilled need to cum.
If he ran to a hospital begging, “I can’t stop thinking about sucking cock, I want to eat dick,” they’d probably send him to a psychiatrist. As a stopgap, he isolated himself completely, knowing even the slightest sexual stimulus would drive him mad. On the street, his eyes locked onto every man’s crotch. He quit drinking, canceled plans. He didn’t remember, but Hyeontae’s brainwashing had already erased his social life in college. No one even noticed his absence.
Only once, on the last day of term, did his classmates drag him out for drinks. He refused at first, but after enough liquor, he stumbled home in a panic, terrified he’d drag some stranger into a motel or grope someone in the street. He vomited into the toilet, relieved nothing worse had happened.
Jihun was a hair’s breadth from collapse.
When the university posted a startup and employment prep program for the break, he hesitated. Maybe holing up at home, tormented by lust, was better. But doing nothing—no job, no internship—while waiting for Hyeontae’s call felt pathetic. His original plan had been to job-hunt and work part-time.
He signed up.
Maybe Hyeontae would finally unlock the chastity cage, offer an internship—or at least a real job. If two months passed with no word, he’d call and demand answers.
His ass was damp. Leaking pre-cum had forced him to steal his sister’s sanitary pad, sticking it inside his underwear as a makeshift solution. It was itchy, uncomfortable, the adhesive digging into his skin. Sweat trickled down his crack.
Afraid of soaking his pants in the heat, he’d been sitting in an air-conditioned lecture hall for twenty minutes. At fifty-five past the hour, students flooded in. Someone sat beside him. Jihun’s head snapped up—then away, terrified of eye contact. Focus on the career tips. Just graduate. Just graduate.
The guy wore shorts, thighs fully exposed. As Jihun scribbled notes, his eraser slipped. Bending to grab it, his gaze locked onto the stranger’s legs. His heart plummeted.
What if I just—lean down, take him in my mouth? No one would notice. I could make him cum so good—
Jihun shot to his feet and stormed out. The cage prevented erection, but without it, he’d have been hard as steel. His cock ached.
This was unsustainable. Trembling, he hit call. After a few rings—click.
“Uncle… I can’t take it anymore…”
Crouched in the hallway, sobbing, Jihun heard Hyeontae’s calm reply:
“I’ve been busy. You crying for me, Jihun?”
***
Hyeontae praised Jihun’s endurance—impressive. He’d pass the company’s standards. Jihun wept with relief, all his suffering finally recognized. Hyeontae hid his real thought—that whining would be cuter with a cock in your mouth—and made an offer:
“I’m swamped, so I can’t unlock your cage right now. But I’ll send someone with the key tomorrow. You can take it off yourself.”
A pause. “You should’ve called sooner. I almost forgot about you.” As consolation, he’d arrange Jihun’s start date within ten days. “Call me tomorrow.”
Jihun could’ve flown. His cock even hurt less. Freedom was tomorrow—no more hellish arousal, no more denied orgasms. His past resentment, the agony, suddenly seemed foolish. He returned to the lecture hall. A few glances, but no one cared. The mundane lecture felt precious.
***
The next day, Jihun clung to his phone, waiting for the company’s contact. He kept it on loud, terrified of missing a call. Entering the lecture hall, a familiar scent hit him—sharp cologne, a hint of something burnt. Cigarette smoke? He racked his brain. Then class began.
The guy from yesterday sat beside him again, still in shorts.
Something was off.
The lecturer’s words blurred into noise, like forgetting something critical. His hands shook.
What do I need to do…?
He scanned the room. His eyes snagged on the stranger’s lower half—the crotch he’d fixated on since yesterday. Without hesitation, Jihun slid his hand into the man’s shorts and pulled out his cock.
The man jolted, staring. Jihun, glazed and serene, wrapped his lips around the shaft with a wet schlick.
Right. I was supposed to suck cock.
The gnawing anxiety vanished. He forgot he was in a lecture hall, slurping loudly on a stranger’s dick. Murmurs erupted. People noticed, of course—this was obscene. Jihun didn’t care.
“Nngh… mmpf… uh, ah…”
Just a blowjob, but his trapped cock burned. His hole clenched, empty and needy. Fuck me, please. He rocked his hips, craving penetration.
A hand yanked his hair. Rough. His mouth popped off the cock, strings of saliva dripping.
“Who told you to pull this freakshow in my lecture hall?”
The professor loomed, furious. Jihun, lips glossy with spit, only thought: I want more. Shove it in me.
The professor sighed, dragging him to the front.
“Class, yesterday we discussed uniqueness in job-hunting. Today, we have a perfect example.”
Students buzzed. Jihun stood, head bowed, torn between shame and the primal urge to fuck, to cum.
“Park Jihun, right? Demonstrate your unique appeal, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”
“Y-Yes…?”
The professor patted his back.
“It’s not about high specs anymore—it’s about standing out. You need to prove you’re unforgettable. Like our friend Jihun here.”
With that, he stripped off Jihun’s pants.
The black chastity cage glistened, leaking pre-cum for the whole class to see. His groin was smooth, meticulously groomed. His soaked underwear slid down, revealing the sanitary pad smeared with semen. Jihun’s face burned. Even hypnotized, he knew this was humiliating. His body trembled.
“Now, sell yourself. You listened yesterday—show me you can do it. Or…” A whispered threat: “Everyone finds out you’re the pervert who sucked dick in class.”
Jihun squeezed his eyes shut. Better not to see them.
“I’m… Park Jihun. Twenty years old… um… I’m a, a depraved college student… who wants to suck cock—no, eat cock!”
Hyeontae’s relentless training made the words flow easily. His cock, defiant even now, dripped steadily. Each shudder sent more fluid trickling from the cage.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
