Chastity Resort: a Gentle Turn

Without saying anything I offered my wrist as well, convinced that the receptionist would give me a bracelet as well. But she and my wife looked at each other and barely stifled a giggle.

To get me out of the awkward position, Geena gently took my wrist and said, "You're not getting a bracelet, honey, because it would mean that you would be free to go to the piano bar and order your own drinks. But you are not free. For two weeks, you depend on me for any purchase, whether it's a cocktail or access to a class. It was clearly written on the website-it's strange that you didn't read it, Ludo! Not to mention, the men will often be in handcuffs--there would be no room for a bracelet on the wrist, hehehe."

The receptionist composed herself from laughter. Blushing, she asked for forgiveness. "Please forgive my laughter, sir, you are a kind Guest and I had no right to laugh at you. Do you see this black bracelet that I am wearing? All the Resort staff wears the same one. If you see a man wearing a black bracelet, it means he is not a guest but an employee (caged, too)."

I bowed my head and apologized in turn. "I am the one begging your forgiveness, kind Miss Lucjia" (I was reading the name on the nametag but with the English pronunciation, like Lucy from Peanuts).

"It's pronounced Loò-zia, but thank you, sir."

"Thank you for everything, dear Lucjia," said my wife, taking me by the elbow, "we will go to the room for a moment and then we will see how to decide. Thank you very much and see you soon!"

Chapter 5 What I Ate For Dinner.

As soon as the automatic door closed, my wife hissed, "Follow me!"

I swear she had never used that verb in her entire life. We had been on that island less than an hour, and already she had ordered me to follow her twice. Is that what is meant by Female Leaded Relationship? I began to doubt that perhaps my wife had diverted some of the time she spent on romance novels, and Farmville, into much more interesting reading, and with much more explicit direct consequences.

We walked past our neighbors' window. My wife turned to me and said, "They turned off the light. What do you think they are doing now? Do you think they are sleeping? Are they cuddling?"

"I don't know... I don't know them, I have no idea..."

"I think they went to the piano bar. I imagine her dragging him on a leash, and him licking cocktail drops from her hand, on his knees, naked, with the cage exposed to everyone. What do you say?"

"Oh ... if you say that you make me horny ... I can't run with your speed."

"Or, better. She tied him to the bed and left him in the dark while she went to celebrate with cocktails together with the other girls, planning pranks and telling each other how they teased their husbands... that could be fun, right?"

"OMG, my Queen... don't tell me these things on the street..."

"Are you ashamed in the street? We're not at home here, and we're not even in bigoted, prude Munich... we're on a desert island where 100 percent of the population already knows you're wearing a cage."

Geena paused. She turned toward me. Legs open, hands on hips, a blond lock of hair on one side of her face. She glared sternly at me and gave me a sharp order. "Get undressed. Naked. Now. Under the light of this lamppost."

"Oh ... but ... if ..."

Her eyes blazed. I had never seen my wife so horny. "You would dare to disobey a direct order from your Queen? Ludo: Either you use a safeword, or you take your clothes off right now. Naked."

I bowed my head. I bit my lower lip. I had longed for this, and now it was becoming true. I was afraid, but I was also happy. I began to unbutton my shirt, then my pants. I was naked in front of her. She had absolute power.

"Now, let's play a game. Let's play that I am the good policewoman who has to arrest you, for indecent exposure. And you are the bad perverted maniac wandering naked through the sandy paths of a respectable Resort. Wrists behind your back, right now!"

From her purse, where I thought she had room only for documents, Geena pulled out the leather handcuffs. She fastened the straps tight and checked carefully that I could not free myself. Then she put her hand on my balls and said, "You are in my hand now, you criminal."

She continued to caress my balls while kissing my shoulders and neck. Then suddenly she whispered, "Kneel down. I want to see you crawl to the door with the key in your mouth, and I want to watch how you can open the door using only your mouth. I want to see your knees on the sand. And I want to see how enthusiastically you obey."

I trudged with difficulty through the sand. The cock kept struggling against the bars of the cage, and I was horny as hell. I reached the door. Fortunately, the reader was very low and I could reach it comfortably. I was thunderstruck by the thought that maybe all the doors at the Resort had an opening at the bottom, to allow this experience for all Keyholders. And I also thought that maybe it was one of the confidential messages they had sent only to her. Maybe the bracelets, too, were secret news that she knew and I didn't? I began to understand that real Power does not consist in a pair of handcuffs, but the possession of secret information.

Geena walked in, leaving all the suitcases outside. "We'll take care of it later," she said.

In one move she lifted the sundress she had worn for the trip. Underneath she was naked. While in Munich she would have done a real strip tease for me, now she just wanted sex instead.

"This may not be an original joke, but... guess what I'm going to make you eat for dinner?"

She laid me down on the bed and sat on top of me, her pussy all wet. With her hands, she leaned on the headboard of the bed, which was made of wrought iron (the architect must have been a BDSM expert) and with the swaying of her pelvis, she decided whether I should focus on my clit, pussy, or rosebud.

I think Geena enjoyed an orgasm almost immediately, from the excitement of being on that island, with that power, in that apartment: with the mirrors on the ceiling, the window wide open, the door deliberately left open.

But in normal situations, after orgasm, she would have slowed down, and sought cuddling and pampering. Instead, she was horny as hell and kept straddling my face without ever stopping. She kept saying provocative phrases to me, such as "I'm going to make you eat pussy until dawn" or "you know, don't you, that knowing you're giving up your orgasm is the thing that turns me on the most?"

After a long time, maybe an hour, maybe two, she began moaning and groaning louder and louder. I had my cock struggling against the bars of the cage and my knob purple with desperation. Amid the moans, she began to scream, "Now I'm coming! And you won't! You will NOT! I am coming precisely because you DON'T! Aah... I'M COMING! I'M COMING! Aaaaah!"

Now I recognized her. Now she was slowing down, now she was caressing me.

I thought, now she's going to undo my handcuffs and give me something to eat.

Instead, she said, "Honey, I'm so tired. If you can open the refrigerator eat something. Close the door. I will be here sleeping, join me."

She turned over and immediately fell asleep. I could hear her snoring slightly, the way our little girls used to snore after feeding milk. She was as innocent as an infant.

No guilt. No assumptions about reciprocating anything for me. Not even getting me a little bit of food.

I opened the refrigerator with great difficulty. Most of the bottles could not be opened, I drank pineapple juice and ate ham. With much effort, I lay down beside her. My cock was raging, but after much, much patience, I fell asleep.

Chapter 6 the first lesson (part 1)

The next morning, in most of my fantasies, I was supposed to wake up first and make her breakfast and then wake her up with cunnilingus.

But I was honestly exhausted from the previous night. I was awakened by the doorbell and the smell of coffee.

My wife was already awake, wearing an unbuttoned blouse from which one could see both her pussy and both nipples. She let in the maid pushing a cart with breakfast. The girl looked very young but wore a black bracelet and had a key around her neck. We could tell that she was not particularly surprised to see the sight of a naked, caged, and handcuffed guest on the bed.

My wife signaled to place the main tray on the bed.

The girl smiled at me as if to say "don't worry sir, I've seen all kinds before," and then turned back to Geena. I thought she would dismiss her right away, but instead, she held her by the hand to make small talk. They were talking in whispers and giggling but I couldn't understand anything they were saying.

I was stunned by that incredible sight. My Geena, always shy and reserved, now stood naked in front of a maid, her blond pussy clearly in view and her nipples exposed under a negligently unbuttoned shirt.

An incredible scene.

Finally, Geena said goodbye to the maid and came to me. She poured cream into my coffee and helped me drink it (I had slept with my wrists cuffed behind my back), fed me the way she had fed our daughters as babies.

"Do you feed me the way you used to feed little girls?"

"You are my baby, Ludo. I'll even give you milk if you want it. Would you like a tit to suck on, little Ludo?"

The nipples were stiff, whereas before they were soft. Had she become aroused while talking to the maid? Could it be that my wife also had a lesbian curiosity? After all, she had chosen this Resort, and the site clearly mentioned the possibility of kissing and touching other women to tease her husband.

She put a nipple in my mouth. I licked and sucked it as I had done the night before with her clitoris. But after a while, she took it away from me, saying, "Finish eating, lazybones, or you'll make us late for our first class!"

I had no watch but realized that I had slept a lot. I ate like a wolf and then, full of energy, declared myself ready to go out. "What should I wear for the class?"

"Huh? Nothing. Your cage, your handcuffs. And that's it."

"But that's not possible!"

"Yes, of course, I have a message that says just that. Since I'm generous, I'll read it to you, even though it would be the confidential kind. "Morning, 10 o'clock, maximum punctuality. In classroom B, indoor, air-conditioned, first class. Dress code. Men, caged, may wear glasses if they need them. No hat required. Other accessories for him at Keyholder's discretion [and I have decided that you will attend with handcuffs]. Women, absolute freedom, with the only exception of not showing up completely naked: we try to establish an intuitive hierarchy, based on CFNM. Thank you. Teacher Milka."

"And how are you going to dress?"

"Are you asking out of curiosity to know, or do you think you have decision-making power over my clothes?"

"Just out of curiosity to know, my Queen."

"I will attend the first class dressed as you see me now. I just asked the maid if it seemed like a suitable outfit, and she said yes. I also asked about shoes, and she told me that the resort is continuously cleaned and scoured, there are no stones or glass or other troublesome things. So it is possible to go barefoot without any problem as if we were at home. In fact, I feel at home, even though we have been here for a short time. She told me that the only place where dress shoes are recommended, is the piano bar; although many keyholders neglect this rule, especially for dancing on the sand without heels."

"All right, then let's go!"

We reached the hall just in time. It was a fairly large hall, with two rows of three stations. They were quite strange, and I don't know if I can explain them well.

On some beaches, because of recent pandemics, separations made of glass had been set up to prevent contagion between one lounger and another. They were like transparent screens.

In this room, there were six seats in two rows: each seat was enclosed on three sides by three panes of glass, and open on the side that looked in the direction of the center stage. Thus, we could all see each other, but the glass provided minimal privacy and the impossibility of touching or being touched.

In each seat there was only one chair, with a highly adjustable back, very low: and only in the rightmost seat, back, was there a crib with a white mattress.

Can I say that we introduced ourselves to others? That is not the right word.

It happened that Geena introduced herself (and then me, as if I were an accessory matching the handbag) to another Keyholder, and then to two others. But it was clear to all that the pairs were based on total asymmetry: I was handcuffed, and two husbands were on their knees.

One rather elderly woman, naked with a scarf around her neck, introduced herself as Marie and said that her husband Ulrich could go to saunas because he was very used to them and his cage was plastic. Two English women were twin sisters: Pam and Cam (Pamela and Camilla), and they wore only simple identical cotton T-shirts-which amplified their resemblance. The only difference was that Pam had longer hair.

Pedro was Pam's husband and Chris was Cam's husband. Pedro was Spanish, very tanned, tall and thin, with green eyes and a hint of a chin beard: a young and cheerful version of Don Xiquote. Chris was of Jamaican descent, although he was born in London; his skin was the color of dark chocolate; he was tall, muscular, and had a clean-shaven skull. Because the twins were physically petite less than 5,2 feet tall, slim and slender, they often (as now) asked the two tall husbands to be on their knees because they felt uncomfortable being overpowered.

It occurred to me that the key to CFNM is just that: to grant women a position of superiority, in which they feel safe from any threat that might come from men (from testosterone, from a sudden erection). At that moment there were four free women, standing and in full control of the situation, dressed very casually but undoubtedly covered, who had nothing to fear from four naked and caged men, two of whom were on their knees, one elderly and one handcuffed.

At ten o'clock sharp, a lecturer entered from the side of the stage. But he was a man, caged. On his wrist was a black bracelet: he was a staff employee. He approached the microphone and politely begged us to take our seats, each in the seat with the same apartment number.

Then he got down on his knees, waiting for the teacher to come.

My wife sat in the long-backed chair: and I sat on the floor. As the minutes passed, I thought back to the people I had just met.

Chapter 7 Beginning of the first lesson: Marie.

A quarter after ten o'clock, the teacher arrived. She was a beautiful woman, tall and with black hair. She wore a black silk shirt, deliberately unbuttoned, and a very thin, black g-thong. But what impressed me most was that she was missing her left breast.

"Good morning to all my Keyholders students, and good morning to their cock caged classmates as well. My name is Milena but everyone has always called me Milka. Yes, I know what you are thinking: how ironic that a woman with surgically removed breasts has a name that resembles milk!"

There was some nervous giggling.

"You can laugh, you can pity me. I am a woman with a removed breast and a tattoo on the scar. And this introduces today's First Lesson: we are not perfect, and we must love ourselves as we are.

Put aside fantasies about thinness, height, and beauty: we are all flawed, and as we get older, the flaws will be greater and greater. But if we want to get as much pleasure out of life as possible (and if you are here, that means you want to), we must love our bodies and take the utmost care of them.

Hence today's First Lesson: eat well, drink well, sleep well.

But before that: love yourself. I know that every female child since birth has been bombarded with negative messages, telling her she was not thin enough, combed enough, deodorized enough. My First Lesson is that your smell is naturally good, your taste is naturally good, and your body is perfect to love as it is now."

There was shy applause.

"Ah no, the first lesson from Milka: no applause. Applause is reserved for celebrating Keyholders after you have had an orgasm. Now let's begin.

First lesson: punctuality. My husband arrived here on time at ten o'clock, because it is his duty to respect punctuality.

I, on the other hand, arrived late on purpose, to teach you that I am free to do what I want. This marks the asymmetry between my husband and me. He wears a cage, I am free. He doesn't have orgasms, I have orgasms every day. He can't masturbate, I masturbate every day, sometimes in front of him to tease him, sometimes in his absence and then I tell him about it, or I phone him and make him listen while I cum and he doesn't. And that's Lesson One."

She paused and looked into our eyes, one by one. She had beautiful blue eyes. One husband kept staring at her tattoo around the scar above her heart, and she said, "Hey, buddy, this may not be an original joke, but... my eyes are up here"

"Excuse me, ma'am"

"Apology accepted, I know my breast draws stares, but it's not the main topic today. And anyway, Lesson One is about Safeword: always respect Safeword. I know of sex videos where an evil mistress laughs at the safeword or threatens to throw away the key -- nonsense. Instead, try to always have two keys. And remember that no cage can resist a man who wants to break free: it's all about acceptance and trust."

Milka walked across the stage left and right, then summoned one of the Keyholders. She was the older naked woman, who had introduced herself earlier.

"Come on stage, dear, and if you feel like it, tell the class what your name is and how you are dressed."

She made a little bow with her head, and then said, "My name is Marie and together with my husband Ulrich we come from Lienz in Austria. We have been naturists for many, many years; my parents were naturists, and have pictures of my grandparents who were naturists. We only recently discovered the Chastity cage, so we are in the beginner class. The teacher only asked me my name, because it is not polite to ask a lady's age, but I don't want to leave you disappointed: I am 62. My husband is 64. Unfortunately, he has a meniscus problem in his knee and he shouldn't be on his knees. We pointed this out at the booking stage, and our station has been furnished with a mattress that in a way creates an unfair advantage situation, but I assure you it stems from a medical problem."

The teacher interrupted her.

"My question was about your outfit."

"Oh! Yeah. So, since I have been a naturist for so many years, on beach vacations I hardly wear any clothes: I only have a few little dresses for the evening, if an after-dinner cocktail happens. But it will rarely happen.

Nevertheless, I took up the recommendation to be CFNM, and I wore everything I had.

It's not much, I know. But at least I'm not naked. This scarf around my neck -- it's from Hermès -- in a naturist village, it would not be allowed. But if that's still not enough ... [she untied the fake knot and waved it like a flag] silk has this peculiarity, that a very large area can be enclosed in a very small volume. This scarf measures six feet, and I can wrap myself in it like Batman in bat wings (Do you know the character? He was famous in my time). It is purple and violet, with some black designs: I can fold it in half and get a skirt, I can knot one shoulder and get into a fancy theater.

And, if I may give some advice to younger young ladies--a silk scarf goes unnoticed even in the most bigoted situations, but it is perfect for tying up a husband before an oral orgasm. Orgasm for me, that is!"

"Good, very good! Thank you, Marie. Remember, ladies Keyholders, this is the first lesson we are getting: any object can be used to torment our husbands, after all, they are the ones who asked us for it.