Caged Honeymoon: Welcome Party

Motionless, standing next to the two naturist men, I understood (only now!) why my wife had made me wear that useless leather apron. It served to communicate to everyone that I was not a naturist, and my apparent nudity was not my choice, but an order from my Keyholder. Perhaps some other man might have felt humiliated. I felt loved by her, and even though the bars were clutching my penis, it was as if her hand was clenching me in her fist (yet, at that moment, she was a few feet away, chatting amiably with two naturist women).

I had remained behind along with the two husbands. They introduced themselves to me with much respect, although I could not shake hands.

Heinz, more mature, white-haired, and Kurt, younger, black-haired. They told me that the wives' names were Helga, white hair and was "curvy" (I don't want to say she was fat, however, she was the classic German woman who drank a lot of beer and ate a lot of butter in her life), and Karin, natural blond, very thin with small tits, very mischievous blue eyes. Heinz was Karin's uncle, so jokingly he told me that he was somehow like Kurt's father-in-law. All four of them lived in the same town in Austria.

At the bank, they taught me a technique for remembering people's names. Many people are amazed when the clerk offering them an investment remembers their proper name because over a lifetime they have often experienced that their name is forgotten immediately. This makes them feel neglected and unheard.

There are many techniques, but the simplest one for me is to associate each name with a memorable action. You may have already heard it enunciated by Woody Allen in the movie "Scoop" (2006).

Heinz had cheeks as red as ketchup. In German, Heinz is a first name, while in America it is perceived as a surname. I could not have forgotten Heinz's red cheeks.

Kurt vaguely resembled the character in the TV series "Glee." Not the same, but somehow similar: he could have been a direct heir from the Von Trapp family ("The Sound of Music"). After those thoughts, I could not forget Kurt's name either.

Helga had very large thighs and arms. The first thing I thought was that he must be a Hell of a Backer because it is foolish to think of a skinny pastry chef! From Hell to Helga was an instant.

Slim blonde Karin seems to me "carina," a word that in Italian means pretty, nice girl. Coincidence, but it worked for me (because I knew a few words of Italian, like "risotto" and "spaghetti" and "that's Amore", and "mille grazie, Mario!").

The two Austrian naturists were very relaxed and had flaccid penises as if they didn't care to see my wife wearing that outrageous dress. Instead, they both stared with curiosity at the cage curve that forced my penis to remain short as in the most flaccid condition. The tip bent forward as if in perpetual bowing, and the overall length from base to tip was short: I have an average-sized penis, but when flaccid it is possible to enclose it inside a very short cage.

Kurt asked, "Does your wife never let you cum?"

"Well, first of all, I was the one who proposed it. I had started by keeping the key in my closet, but it's not the same thing, so, I asked her, who was reluctant at first.

You see, this Chastity Lifestyle implies a Transfer of Power. Everything changes when you have another trusted person as a keyholder. I no longer own my cock! I can no longer jerk off freely, and we agreed together, that I will never gain the authority to initiate something sexual, or even ask for it. In sex, she decides everything.

I wear the cage 24/7. It is a constant reminder to me of my decision, to surrender my freedom to her. In this way, I perceive that I am owned by her, even when I'm at work in the Bank, and Britney is not around. And it's better even for my job and my team.

Every time I'll feel sexually aroused, I will feel even the strong tension of the constricting metal bars around my emprisoned cock.

Keep in mind that neither I nor she likes penis penetration into the vagina (aka: PIV).

We made love and it was disappointing for both of us. And not because of defects of premature ejaculation or small size. I have a normal penis, but I don't like to penetrate."

"So you got married, already knowing that you will not have children?"

"On the contrary: we plan to have two children if the Fates allow it."

Heinz, the uncle, asked "But excuse me, Kurt, honestly: how many times a week do you and my niece Karin make love?"

"Honestly? Once a month, or maybe less. And I doubt that my wife often does it just to please me, but she doesn't mind. When she was young, she was enthusiastic about giving head... but over time, even that activity has very much faded in frequency, and now it's rarer and rarer."

"There you see? You and I, who are just two old-fashioned vanilla husbands, marvel at the lifestyle of these guys: yet, you have sex once a month, and I, honestly, even less than you. Do you know that it will turn out that this young groom, with the cage and the padlock, will have sex more often than the two of us added together? And who knows, that maybe he wasn't right!" said Heinz.

"At least he and Britney are honest. If I understand correctly, she only lets him have sex when she's in the mood, right? Instead, my wife pretends to accept my sexual endeavors just to please me and doesn't understand that it hurts me deeply."

I tried to explain. "For me, it is not humiliating. Britney showed me to all her friends but none of them laughed at me: I did not feel humiliated, because it was my choice.

In fact: it's liberating for me. I no longer feel the need to compete against other males, I don't feel the need to seduce or show initiative. It is like having taken a weight off my backpack. Certainly, I can no longer masturbate at night, but that's good for my health, too: before the cage, I was also masturbating for three or four hours every night, to the detriment of sleep!

I also asked her to be a strict and rigid Keyholder. At first, she didn't want to, she was shy and reluctant: she was afraid of hurting me physically, but mostly of hurting my pride. Then, little by little, she gained confidence and entered the role comfortably. When she feels like it, she jokes and asks me questions about the situation of my "little soldier," the little knight in his armored armor -- Tiny Dean, the little Paladin...

The metal bars are a prison, but also an armor of protection....

Besides, it's kind of like my wife's fingers are tight around the skin of the cock all day long. It's as if the penis is squeezed gently by her fist every minute of the week. It is a liberating feeling. I guess in a way it's like giving up clothes for naturals." I said.

"Yes, in a sense, nudity is often associated with poverty: only the poor don't wear shoes, for example. And in the Middle Ages, nudity was a punishment for penitents. But for naturists it's different: everyone knows it's a choice, dictated by the brain and not by poverty or punishment." Heinz replied

"Then in a way, you understand me because we are partially similar."

They remained silent for a while. Then Kurt said, "I thought the cage was used to punish unfaithful husbands or to torture a misbehaving boyfriend. Or even, payment for a lost bet."

I replied, "No cage is completely inescapable. If a man wants to, he can slip out or have a blacksmith break it. I don't believe at all that it can be "imposed" to control an unfaithful husband or anything like that. And the "bet" also puzzles me. I understand that it can be a way to start: each of the two alleviates guilt, pretending that the cage was worn because of Fate, which caused the bet to be lost. Or: a man fails to confess his desire to wear a cage out of devotion, then he resorts to betting in a pretextual way, perhaps losing on purpose to be, as it were, 'forced' to wear a cage that he would fail to confess that he ardently desired."

"So according to you the proposal always starts with the male?"

"In my opinion, yes. I have never known a couple in which the girl had proposed first to the male... in part because there are at least two major obstacles.

7The first is that many girls fear hurting male pride all girls are old feminist philosophers who theorize about castrating all males they meet!

The second is that it appears much easier for girls to handle the desire for a male with a free cock. If girls are tired or low in mood, they can get rid of the task with a quick blowjob or handjob. Or they can instigate the boyfriend to watch a porn video and masturbate by himself (relieving the girl of fatigue)."

"Yep."

"Also, my wife doesn't want penetration, but many women do. If the penis is caged it becomes an obstacle for the wife as well. I repeat: Britney does not want it. But other women want to be pounded hard, fucked hard and wild."

"Confirmed. At least, at first, my wife was like that. Then... once a month... and always in the most boring vanilla forms."

The oldest naturist, Heinz, sighed and said. "You see, naturism also means a lack of mystery. And this is the most important ingredient for seducing a woman. Perhaps your current predicament makes you even less attractive: not only do you have no mystery, but on the contrary, your submissive position is made explicit to all the women at the Resort. Let me say that, after this introduction at the Welcome Party, your chances of seducing a stranger are reduced to zero."

I smiled, despite the cage and handcuffs. "My goal during the Honeymoon was precisely to devote myself to my wife: isn't that what everyone does?" I smirked.

"No, to be honest, a lot of people cheat on their spouse during the first week. It's in their nature. I don't judge them. Perhaps the most important thing about becoming a naturist is that we have stopped judging other people." The youngest naturist, Kurt, intervened.

I added, "I know why my wife was so insistent that I intervene at this Welcome Party in this predicament: naked, caged, and cuffed. It's the seven-second rule."

"Come again?"

"But yes, of course, in the Bank they teach us this in training courses. Each of us wears a mask and exposes a facade. Based on that mask, others judge and label us.

The haircut, the level of tan (a funny type) or pallor (a hardworking type), the color of the skin, and the level of clothes. Everything is decided within seven seconds. I know that clothes don't make the man and that you don't have to judge a book by its cover, and yet, that's what the whole of humanity has been doing for centuries!

We all base our behavior on the memory of the first impression, accrued in those seven damn seconds.

And you, being both naturists, should understand this well: after all, naturism is the renunciation of status symbols such as designer clothes and fancy watches.

Naked we are all... on the same level, maybe one is more muscular and one is fatter, however, we are all equal human beings. Of course, there remain some differences such as haircut, and beard care, but correct me if I am wrong, it seems to me that your wives wear little make-up or maybe nothing, and hair color is not dye."

"Yes, my wife is very proud of her white hair and has never done anything to hide it. You are right, Dean: naturism is also a form of egalitarianism, although I must remark that differences remain in, for example, vocabulary and eloquence. A court judge or a law professor speaks more appropriately and eloquently than a more sincere but less educated person. If in those very first seven seconds, you also give them time to speak, the language will help form your idea of that person."

"Person! Sure, that's right, just what I wanted to say. In Latin, Persona means mask: 'per+sonat,' resoundingly, was the mask that actors wore in the theater to amplify their voice through a kind of funnel-shaped cavity. When we say 'a thoughtful person' or 'a greedful person' or 'a selfish person,' we are describing how he looks not how he is."

"Through naturism, we try to show ourselves for who we are."

"And through our chastity lifestyle, Britney and I try to show ourselves for who we are sincerely and deeply."

Heinz laughed heartily, "So you're lucky because your wife won't let you fuck! The Luck of Never Fuck!"

"The LUCK of NEVER FUCK... yes, I couldn't have said it better myself."

Kurt smiled ruefully. "My wife Karin also gets me laid too seldom... but I don't consider it lucky for me."

"I'm sorry, really. I am me, and I know what I chose." (spoiler: we later had two children, and I have to admit that "never fuck" did not fully describe our situation. It rang true as we talked together, though, with Heinz and Kurt).

Heinz coughed to set his tone, then said to me, "You see, Dean, now you look at my body as an old person and you would never believe that I was chosen by a Hotwife for cheating her Cuckold. I am not proud of what I did in my temporary role as Bull, however, in my partial defense I would like to state that I was unaware: she was not wearing the ring and when she seduced me in a bar, she did not warn me that at her house was her handcuffed husband waiting for us.

Do you know why she chose me? Because I was wearing my biker suit, and when she saw me, I was still wearing my helmet with the visor down.

Have you ever wondered why women drool over bikers, Dean? Because of the helmet. Oh, sure, there are other ingredients, too: the absolute freedom (kind of like Pirates and Buccaneers), the seeming disregard for civilized rules, and the impregnable ability to escape a police chase. But most of all, the reputation of being Bad Guys. Since prehistoric times, females have understood that the survival gene was strongest in Chad, in aggressive, bully boys, and testosteronic males ready for rage and violence.

The brave and bolt biker, in his black leather suit, appears much more aggressive than a cowardly office worker driving a car wearing an office suit. The necktie and buttons symbolize your collar on a leash, and the handcuffs: all office workers are submissive, while bikers-- all look like potential Bulls.

Also, there is the helmet. The car crystal shows who you are in a transparent way: a normal average man. It's like showing yourself as a naturist: you can't hide anything, you immediately show who you are. In contrast, the motorcycle helmet is as mysterious as Darth Vader's helmet: under the helmet could be Chris Hemsworth or Jason Momoa."

"I see."

"The woman, hotwife, told me to go up to her room. I go in and find a man in tears, tied spread eagle to the bed, while that woman was undressing to be fucked by me, standing in front of her husband. I said I was not available to do something like that and ruin a family: I turned around and left. But, be careful, Dean: I don't judge them. They can live out their perversions as they wish, just as you and Britney can play with key and lock. The limit, in my opinion, is always the same: everyone can do anything, as long as they don't harm the people around them. That night, that hotwife was ruining my evening (and I left) and she was probably ruining the self-esteem of that poor husband in tears. But I don't judge them: maybe he was happy like that, maybe he was masochistic, maybe he was clinically impotent. I was gone in a moment, although I understand that he, on the other hand, was forced to stay in his situation, and not just because of four handcuffs on the corners of the bed.

I hope you are deeply happy, Dean. I see that the key hangs between your wife's breasts, so perhaps breaking this game will be easy, when you two decide."

"Yes, it will. She has already released me in the past few months -- well, a few months ago. But we've already made love, if that's what you're worried about, and I have a normal-sized penis, and she knows it. I had a look at the luggage, and I knew Britney had brought provocative lingerie, too, to drive me crazy with desire. But I know very well that it will not happen every day of the Honeymoon. On some days she will have no desire, and therefore no obligation to tease me. We have already experienced this in the past months: when she is not in the right mood, she simply does not take any sexual initiative. You might say that she neglects me. I say she is sincere, and that is very true for me. I would never want her to "feign interest" or worse yet, fake an orgasm just to get me to go to sleep and stop bothering her!

She is a Keyholder but this does not entail any obligation. It is not an extra duty: these are not additional domestic chores to be done before bedtime. If she is in the mood to fiddle with my cage, fine: otherwise, she will ignore me all day, or even for several days.

But...

But you know what they say--when a man is held in chastity by his Keyholder, any small gesture is exciting to him, even just an occasional caress, seeing a barefoot, seeing the gait of her walking happily toward the beach."

"It's okay, kid, you don't need to convince me. I can see in your eyes that you are happy, and she looks so relaxed and fulfilled. It's okay."

.

§ 3 Meet a Master-for-a-Day and His Little Leashed Vixen on All Four.

I looked around. I saw my wife very relaxed, and deeply fulfilled, chatting amiably with a couple quite anomalous in the overall scene.

In general, under the resort's big tents, I had seen only fully clothed couples, or naturist couples, or couples like us, CFNM. But these two were the opposite: CMNF.

I greeted the two naturists and approached my wife.

"Oh, there's my darling, the Head of the House. Dean, allow me to introduce the Master-for-a-Day, Mr. Frank, and his pet, little dog Mrs. Foxy."

"Give paw, Foxy." Said the man, smartly dressed in a tie and dark suit.

My wife chuckled. "Unfortunately, my husband cannot shake hands, his wrists are firmly behind his back. But maybe your good dog can sniff his testicles: I know dogs do that when they first meet."

I stared stunned at my wife and also at Mrs. Foxy.

My wife had never mentioned a passion for pet play! But that was a notion they all knew after all: dogs sniff each other's genitals and anus, it is well known.

I stared at Mrs. Foxy, Pet-for-a-Day. She was a very attractive girl, but naked, collared, and leashed. She walked on all fours and had a metal bowl from which she licked water, exposing her pussy and anus inside of which was buried an anal plug from which a red foxy tail protruded.

I was contemplating a human dog/vixen. She behaved in every way as if she had been a real dog: her red hair (natural: the thin carpet matched the curtains) was gathered by rubber bands to form two ears as for a cocker spaniel.

When my wife said those words, Foxy looked at her Master with excited eyes, and with all the tongue out of her mouth, waiting for a specific order.

The Owner barked a sharp command.

"Smell. But don't lick."

Foxy approached me who was standing. She was on all fours and her nose was exactly level with my testicles.

My wife said something I did not expect. "I give full permission for your little vixen to start licking, if you will, my friend, Frank."

"Thank you, Britney, but it doesn't seem like the right time, right on the first day and during the Welcome Party. Some naturists live very vanilla and I wouldn't want to bother them." Then, tugging on the leash, he turned to the foxy girl in a harsh voice. "You can sniff but you can't lick, Foxy."

For several minutes, I stood motionless, handcuffed and caged with a very attractive girl on all four sniffing my exposed testicles. I confess I was very aroused, and both my wife and the girl could tell by the way the dark purple knob pressed against the gaps between the bars.

He placed one hand on my shoulder, while with his other hand, he stroked his vixen wife's red hair. "It is a pleasure to make the Head of Household's acquaintance, your wife Britney was explaining to us how deeply she loves you." I nodded. "My wife and I also love each other with such dedication, but we have this slightly exhibitionist kink of our own.