A week passes....

Sitting behind your desk at work, you contemplate the past week, your train of thought being harshly interrupted by the quick swing of the door opening. Your assistant rushed in, placing a few Manilla folder's worth of work on your desk.

"They need your signature." She replied bluntly. You stood to shake her hand, the usual process since she'd begun assuming most of your duties 24/7. Once the raise had hit her wallet, she worked like a maniac, with you more than happy to let her carry you. Your denial had fried any sense of focus you ever had. It made her a valuable asset.

"Uh, Boss, I like you got some water on your pants." She says, calling you boss for the first time in well, weeks. **** on your words, you reply to her, staring at the oak desk in shame.

"Thank you. It's a medical condition. Just me leaking everywhere." You reply. Lying to a woman in charge was hard. Harder still was listening to Carrie when she told you to wear the khaki's today, knowing full well you might leak some of your pre-cum, which would be very evident.

She nods. "Do you think I could get an office spot someday? I'm sorta over the cubicle lifestyle." Her question is an immediate yes, especially in her nice little tight white blouse, and you stop yourself from whimpering as you dribble into the pad in your underwear.

"Of course! I'll work on it." You say with a smile.

"Let me know by close of business today." She says as if she were the boss. Her smirk tells you all you need to know as she waltz's out. You definitely know someone would be hearing about your leakiness before the day was up.

Your underwear hit the bathroom stall floor with a thud. Before you change the leak pad out, you see your phone vibrate, and notice it's Carrie. You rush to respond to the text as quickly as possible. She asks what you were doing, and in a rush to reply, you tell her exactly what you were doing:

Leaked too much >_<. Changing my pad.

You had no idea why you used the emojis, but they were cute and you quite liked them; Carrie replied pretty quickly with a request for a picture. Sending one over quickly, you captured you pink chastity encased dick, the precum overflowing pad, and the shorts at your ankles in one photo. Carrie noticeably saves the photo and then replies.

Jesus. Get back to work.

It's only once your home, after eating Carrie out after your nightly pills, that you are allowed to talk to her. Carrie had claimed your voice had gotten quite frustrating, and jokingly told you not to talk till she came at least once. You took it in stride, swelling in your tight cage, and listened to her words.

"Listen. I think we both realize something." Carrie started off. "I think this whole chastity situation has been great for our relationship." You begin to speak but the words die in your mouth when Carrie puts her finger up. "You're too small to satisfy me, and I'm too big to satisfy you..." Her words become a lie with the second statement. "Anyway, I realize now that you're enjoying this whole 'not fucking me like a man'. So, for now, it'll be nice and permanent."

Carrie gives you quite the toothy smirk and shows you the cage's key. "Some wear a promise ring on a necklace. Here's your little promise key." The key is put on the necklace, and Carrie wears it proudly, shoved deeply between her cleavage.

You tell her you support her decision, and she replies telling you that she will be at your sex therapist appointment the next day. Sitting there you wonder how that too will go....

Just what fetishes might your sex therapist bring out? Please write in the comments the direction you'd like the story to go.