Caged Honeymoon: Welcome Party

Caged Honeymoon: Welcome Party

Bride exposes caged, naked and cuffed groom to Resort's guests

###Disclaimer. It is not required to read the other chapters related to Britney and Dean's marriage; it will suffice to know three brief things. Britney does not like vaginal penetration. Dean loves wearing a chastity cage and licking both his wife and her friends. They both think this demonstrates his obedience and submission as he endures torture to give women orgasms. Britney is exclusively monogamous and resents the concept of cuckolding. In addition, Britney is very proud of how much of an alpha male Dean is in real working life, and she does not find it funny to see him wearing women's clothes (zero cuckolding, zero sissification).

English is not my native language, please forgive my mistakes.###

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§.1 - Getting Ready for an Elegant and Romantic Welcome Party (CFNM).

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"Oh, Dean! I love you so much! And I am so happy that we are here, together, on this little island in Croatia! This resort is magnificent, and this junior suite is fabulous!" sighed Britney, as she picked through the clothes in her closet.

The sun was setting over the sea to the west, and the large bedroom was awash in the red and purple colors of the clouds.

"I love you too, Britney, honey. You chose a beautiful location for our unforgettable Honeymoon, and I will never stop repeating for you the three magic words: I Love You." I answered, truthfully.

"I Love You, Dean. You are the sweetest and also the strongest man I have ever known."

"You say those words because you are blinded by love," I joked.

"No, I mean it. I know it's unseemly to talk about exes on the honeymoon, but they were all so selfish, focused only on their own cumming... Chad, or Kevin... no one ever bothered to know if I was enjoying, or in pain."

"The past is behind us, my love. Think no more of the selfishness of people who will never cross your path again. I am here for you, and I will always be here." I was almost naked, my wrists cuffed, and a tight chastity cage forcing my penis to bend according to a curved line, in a perpetual bow: the metal bars prevented my erection, and the ring around my testicles prevented my release and caused them to protrude forward, swollen, exposed and unprotected.

I was about to kneel to lick my wife's delicious still-naked rosebud while she adjusted her lipstick in front of the mirror, but while I was still standing, we were interrupted.

###

At that moment our new neighbor, Charlotte, entered: without even knocking.

"Excuse me! I couldn't resist. I was outside the door and I was about to knock, then I heard your lovebirds' fives, and I couldn't help myself from entering to interrupt you right away! Sorry, not sorry!

Oh, if the walls had ears! Who knows how many times the walls of a hotel dedicated to Honeymoons have heard these phrases, and who knows how many times the spark has faded between the couple? Often through the fault of both: he may have been too selfish, too hasty, too unconcerned about her needs, but she may have been too lazy, too careless, too inclined to put novels and movies before a healthy fuck.

How many couples had passed through that hotel room, and promised to have sex every day as they did during Honeymoon? Then, however, his wife began to become more and more aloof. Despite his efforts, his wife often did not reach orgasm, because the biology of the human body is like that. Moreover, the young wife was often in the mood of having sex only once every three or four days, or once a week. Before the wedding, she would strive to please the groom-to-be, but after wearing the ring on her finger, her priorities had changed.

Gradually, the bride will begin to announce reasons for avoiding a sex session: too tired, too hot, too cold, too late. One evening the bride will invent a completely false excuse: "I have a headache." How many comedians have made an entire theater laugh, and how many movies have been successful, simply by making fun of phrases that all wives make up to fend off their husbands' sexual initiatives?

The paradox is that when they were engaged, those girls did everything they could to tease their boyfriends, trying to stimulate their sex drive as often as possible.

Instead, when married, those same women will do everything to prevent their husbands from getting aroused. Wives will start wearing flannel pajamas, cut their hair in a "more practical" (i.e.: ugly!) way, and stop wearing makeup and lingerie. Wives will reject their husband's sexual attempts, suggesting that he sleep... while we all know very well, that when a man has a hard cock, he cannot fall asleep until he has emptied his balls (or, maybe, they just believe so: they are all believers!).

My grandmother used to say, "The perfect wife keeps her husband with a FULL belly and EMPTY balls." Am I wrong, perhaps?"

Charlotte smiled in triumph.

Meanwhile, my wife, who was naked before, had quickly donned an elegant creamy white dress with wide slits on the hips. Weakened, Britney sighed: "My sister Abigail got divorced for this very reason.

Her husband was having vanilla sex with her, selfishly and hastily. She did not orgasm, and began to rarefy the occasions, to avoid disappointment.

He, instead of masturbating by reading erotic stories on an international website, started courting a colleague in the office... he cheated my sister since the very first week (a Honeymoon Cruise!), she found out, and they divorced."

Charlotte paced back and forth in our large bedroom, with a triumphant gait. Charlotte wore a half uniform of a dominatrix. Half uniform: above her pierced navel, she wore a short, shiny black leather jacket, with silver metal studs, and underneath was a harness of thin strips that covered neither her breasts nor her nipples. Below the navel, she was wearing absolutely nothing: and I could see, between navel and pussy, the tattoo that said "Happy Cheater," and the drawing of the female bunny with eggs in the basket. Underneath she wore tall stiletto-heeled leather boots, closed by dozens of eyelets and labored laces knotted up to above the knee. "Dress to impress", the saying goes.

While I was distracted, my wife was already ready for the Welcome Party. She had quickly donned a creamy white dress, very low-cut and with a deep slit on the thigh, reaching to the hip at navel height: the open fabric clearly showed the absence of panties. She chooses to go commando! Not bad, for a girl who not long ago declared herself "a shy and reluctant Keyholder." But from a legal standpoint, she was clothed: the only bare body part was her feet. Perhaps she was undecided, about whether to attend the party barefoot (as befits a beach vacation, and also as a sign of openness to naturists), or to wear stiletto shoes (unsuitable for wet sand) or cork-heeled sandals (less sexy but still heels, with considerable influence on her already elegant gait).

Only now did I realize that I was the only naked person in the room: CFNM. I was embarrassed: not because of the humiliation of being naked in put to two women in seductive clothes, but because it seemed so inappropriate for a new neighbor to walk in without knocking to give lectures!

Yet, I must confess that I was excited. My wife looked so beautiful to me! Charlotte's jacket, tattoo, and her "man-killing" boots seemed excessive to me.... Britney seemed much more attractive to me, in the simple whiteness of her white dress: purity mixed with provocation, with her genitals and nipples covered, but ample slits to make the beholder dream.

I, on the other hand, was completely naked, like a beggar or penitent, except for a small leather apron (of the barbecue kind, very masculine), which did not buy my chastity cage. A pair of soft padded handcuffs held my wrists behind my back.

But I sensed no embarrassment: we had previously met Charlotte and her submissive, in a predicament worse than mine (for he was also gagged!). And, from her body language, I seemed to be able to infer that Charlotte, too, was neither embarrassed nor intrigued. It was as if my presence was completely invisible to her: as I spoke, she addressed only my wife. Should I perhaps have felt humiliated? At that moment I paid no attention.

Charlotte continued her monologue. "There, your sister is an example. At the height of paradox, those same women who denied their husbands sex, wonder why that man turned to a mistress or a paid prostitute. Wake up, women! Those are MEN! They just want to cum! As soon as possible, and as often as possible!"

"That's not true," Britney whispered as she laced her heeled sandals around her ankles.

"Come again?" Barked Charlotte.

"It is not acceptable, in my opinion, for you to come into our bedroom and make these statements against the whole of mankind. My husband Dean is... just different. He is sweet and strong, and he accepts me even though I do not like vaginal penetration.

And I do not accept that you come into my house (I mean, I mean, into the rented junior suite) without even knocking, to give us all a reading, and that you do not greet my husband and address him with due respect.

I may appear a cruel and harsh keyholder because he has handed over the key to me: the key to the heart and also the key to the lock. But you, Charlotte, you are a stranger to us. I feel that we could be very good friends, I sense in you the desire for a sincere friendship without ulterior motives, but I demand that you be friendly with my husband.

He has a name: Dean. He is my spouse and he is the person I admire and honor more than anyone else in the world."

Charlotte was dumbfounded.

My wife continued, "I understand very well that at this very moment, it seems that I am not honoring him: appearances are deceiving. You see him naked, caged, and cuffed, and it seems to you that he is my submissive. But I confess one thing to you, Charlotte: although he appears to be my servant, it is I who am a Slave To Love, for him.

I love him so much.

I chose this resort to do many fun and beautiful things together with him, excursions, visits, sports, dances, dinners... and even sex, yes, why not, after all, we are married!

Yet... Dean and I are not the classic vanilla couple, boring and bored. He is not the stereotypical male who dumps his seed after two hasty pistons, and immediately afterwards, he starts snoring and farting without taking care of the unsatisfied woman's vagina!

In these weeks you will often see him naked, on his knees, or handcuffed, but that doesn't mean I don't love him.

I love him and enjoy together with him this particular lifestyle of ours. The night before the wedding, I instigated my bridesmaids to provoke him. I put so much trust in him that I fell asleep while the girls forced him to lick their feet, pussies, and tits..."

"Add Priscilla was pregnant!" I added fast.

"...And among my friends, one was pregnant full term. This is us: Britney and Dean, chastity couple, ready to fun with the girls. This is our lifestyle.

I may look mean, I may seem cruel, but I'm not sadistic, and everything I do for him, for us, to be happy together.

Both he and I, both of us have safe words and we can interrupt... what my sister didn't have with her boar-of-a-pig husband."

Charlotte smiled in relax. "I admit that you two look different from most of the young couples I've seen here at the Resort in recent years. And your eyes do not communicate sadism... and perhaps I was rough on this tall, gentle young man. I apologize. Maybe I got off on the wrong foot, and maybe you, Britney, are right in demanding more respect for the Head of the House, even if he is naked and chained right now. He remains the Head of the Household."

I smiled too. No one had ever called me that: however, it was true. Our agreements provided for parity in everything, but in the financial sphere, Britney trusted my guidance because I was much more knowledgeable and experienced, b ecause of my degree and my job at the bank (continually updated by reading dozens of books and newspaper articles... you must not believe that I only read erotic narrative!).

Charlotte made a little reverence, which seemed funny considering the Dominatrix outfit. "My deepest apologies, Mr. Dean, sir, husband of my friend Britney. I am so used to treating my husband badly that I have forgotten that every couple lives differently."

"Apology accepted," I bowed like a true gentleman, even though I was handcuffed.

"Apology accepted and the beginning of a beautiful friendship," smiled Britney. "I don't judge your choices, and I don't care if it's true that you're cheating on your husband, or if it's just a provocation," she said, mentioning the tattoo. "Just as I don't care if you are Barcelona or Red Sox fans. Everyone lives their life the way they want to, and this Resort is home to many very different people."

"That's true. My husband and I have been coming here for several years, and we have seen very different situations. It started as a Naturist Resort many years ago. Naturists are often labeled by mainstream thinking as sex maniacs devoted to orgies, but in reality, they are very serene people who are almost disinterested in nudity. Come to think of it, most of the perverted maniacs I have known wore stretched clothing and perceived nudity as demonic. Well.

In time, the owners added facilities suitable for BDSM tourist couples. There is a lot of talk about gay-friendly (LGBTQ-friendly) tourism, but few know that BDSM-friendly tourism exists. The initial idea was to keep the two areas separate, but the island was very small and people were very discreet. It happened, without anyone having planned it, that people mingled. So at the restaurant, on the beach, or at the Welcome cocktail hour, you might come across a completely monogamous, vanilla naturist couple, and at the next table a Femdom couple with the husband eating from a bowl on the floor, next to an Owner with a whip and latex."

"Yes, I read that on the website."

I didn't know anything about it, but it sounded interesting.

"As in all Resorts, everyone can spend the vacation alone (ie: as a couple) without ever interacting with others. But, as in all Resorts, the entertainers organize small occasions to make friends. Drinking, of course, at the Welcome Party. But also treasure hunts, board games, darts, sports, and excursions. A helicopter trip doesn't allow for much dialogue, but a hike up the mountain offers many conversation starters."

"Are naturists shocked when they see... this?"

"No. Not at all. I don't know why, but naturists are the most tolerant people in the world. A simple "no, thank you" is enough to reject a proposed orgy, or a threesome, or even just taking a selfie together with a caged submissive."

Britney's eyes sparkled.

"Selfie! Oh, I almost forgot, how distracted I am! The girls begged me for some couple selfie of the first night, would you feel like taking the picture for us, Charlotte dear?" said Britney, handing her phone to Charlotte.

"A picture, of course! What a cute idea. Stand in front of St. Andrew's Cross so the mirrors don't frame this mature Dominatrix unnecessarily."

###

That was our first selfie session as a chastity couple: and it was not a real selfie.

I deduced from the way she carried herself, the tone of her voice, and the way she moved the camera up and down that Charlotte was an accomplished photographer-who knows, maybe she also had experience in filmmaking. Charlotte was talented. After taking the first pose very simply (me naked next to Britney in a cream-colored dress and heeled sandals), Charlotte suggested some more meaningful poses.

Me on my knees. Me on my knees, but three-quarter-length, showing cuffed wrists. Britney was no longer standing, but with one shoe over my shoulder: the slit in her dress clearly showed that her naked pussy was a short distance from my nose. "Pinch your nipples, dear, so in the picture you can see they are erect!"

In the end, we had a remarkable amount of photos, and it was only the first day! But the last photo was beautiful: my wife with her nipples erect under her dress, one foot on my shoulder, and me on my knees adoring her.

A faithful worshipper in front of his trustworthy goddess, beaming with luminous beauty.

I can never be grateful enough to Charlotte for taking that magnificent picture of us.

###

I didn't know it yet at the time, but the selfie with the cage on triggered a flurry of messages from the girls who had attended the bachelorette party.

They were also joined by a friend of my wife's, Virginia, who unfortunately lived in New Zealand on the other side of the world and had not been able to come in person in the flesh.

Every day my wife required me to take at least one or two photos, always in awkward positions and CFNM.

Friends would react by fangirling, sending spicy advice on how to torture me and how to provoke erections in me without then allowing me to cum. Some tips were dismissed with disdain by Britney, but others started some traditions that we kept in the following years, even during our two pregnancies and even when our children still lived with us (in the utmost secrecy, of course).

But at the time it just seemed like a harmless Honeymoon selfie: sometimes a flap of butterfly wings triggers a Tsunami, and no one notices.

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Chapter 2. The Welcome Party.

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A few steps from the main path, there were two large tents stretched around a very upscale piano bar, with soft lighting, relaxing music and sparkling cocktails (just water for Dean).

A very serious girl, wearing only glasses and a pearl necklace, was playing the piano completely naked, as befits a Resort originally designed for naturists.

There were only the people who had arrived that day: the new arrivals. So maybe a quarter to a fifth of the guests (and my wife explained that on some of the beaches on the island, other people sometimes got off the boats).

Most of the people were naked, but only half were plain vanilla naturists in full light. Some couples were clearly in a Submissive situation: the wife dressed smartly or provocatively, and the husband was naked, caged, or in another predicament. Somebody seemed to hide in the shaded areas and watch others from afar.

Some couples appeared much more transgressive than we did. I saw a bare-chested tall man, his back furrowed with his wife's lash marks, dressed as a Dominatrix. I saw a I saw a leashed girl naked, posing like a little dog with a tail sticking out of her asshole. I saw a tall, blond athlete, naked and caged: as muscular as Thor, with huge chains and shackles blocking his massive biceps. By his side, a petite woman (proudly wearing his key) was chatting serenely with the other women, ostentatiously ignoring that her giant husband was blushing in shame. Someone probably said something about the difference in stature (I was too distant to hear), then the petite wife whispered a word to the giant, and he knelt down. She smiled victoriously, because standing in heels and plafonds under her soles, she now appeared taller than he! The women around laughed as he blushed even more.

A group of people greeted Charlotte enthusiastically, and she ran to them, while we stayed by the bar counter waiting for our drinks: an honest Mimosa for her, and water for me (I was not allowed to get drunk).

There at the bar, we met two naturist couples. The wives, curious about the cage and the handcuffs, ask Britney if she is a sadist or a hotwife (since it is evident that she is not wearing underwear, and that she looks like Charlotte's friend), but she says she shakes her head smiling sweetly and confirms that she is not a sadist: she is a kind and reluctant keyholder. Then the two women, intrigued, started asking many questions at once, and she was looking for the right words to answer. Unhurriedly, they walked slowly away from me and I did not hear what they said (something was reported to me later) I felt like I was watching Sandy from "Grease" as she told Rizzo and the other Pink Ladies about Summer Nights!