The young man whimpered, as Elena carefully removed his flushed, leaking dick from the cage constraining his manhood.
“Shh, sweetheart. None of that” she soothed him, enjoying the weight of his inflating manhood in her tiny hand.
She gave him a couple of affectionate strokes, before turning back to the work table and getting a much smaller cage out of the box.
It was a beautiful thing, made of rose gold and adorned with small jade junctures and tiny emeralds. One of her best works, if she could say it herself. Expensive as fuck too. His family was not that wealthy, but they went full out when it came to their boys' devices.
Elena was a third-generation cage maker. It was a good, stable and remunerative business – chastity was a well-established practice among the members of the Lundin Peerage, along with the 5 o'clock afternoon tea and the customary evening spanking.
It just made sense, really. It did not only keep sin at bay but also prevented unfortunate “accidents” that could spoil the lineage of the well and carefully bred intelligentsia of the Isle.
It was also a matter of status. Cages used to be incredibly expensive, a luxury reserved to the wealthy. Of course, times were changing – it was getting more and more common to spot a squirming duke or even (gasp!) a merchant quietly waiting in her parlour for their monthly milking.
Elena didn't necessarily consider herself an artist, but for sure she enjoyed the process.
She reached for a bucket of cold water and watched the cutie hump the air for a bit. She saw nothing wrong in letting him enjoy what were likely going to be his last few minutes of freedom for a long, long while.