Chastity Resort: a Gentle Turn

Virginia walked off the stage with a firm step.

With my mouth under my wife's pussy, I followed Virginia with my eyes. I caught myself thinking about how important a woman's gait is in nonverbal communication. Before, the girl seemed awkward, and insecure, despite her costume (indeed: precisely because of her costume). Now, however, she walked swiftly and lightly, with spontaneity, without a care in the world. She seemed to be flying or prancing like Santa Claus's reindeer.

Surely her partner was ready to give her a good present: even from a distance, I could see his cock jerking inside the cage, and the purple knob all swollen. She stroked his balls with her sweet little feet, then sat on top of his face, and after a few minutes, she began moaning and groaning. Little Virginia moaned and cried, it was heartbreaking but also heartwarming.

My wife with a tap on the balls called me back to my duty. She understood that I was distracted, but she was not jealous: she too was following the pair of young lovers with her eyes. The girl groaned louder and louder until she exploded in an orgasm of screaming and cursing. Then throwing her head back, Virginia let herself fall onto the long back of the chair, as her labored breathing jerked her firm little tits up and down.

Not every woman enjoyed a real orgasm that morning, but she did, and a very intense one at that. I thought, that perhaps to the other Keyholders it must have seemed almost a form of respect for Virginia to let only her enjoy a real orgasm, while each in the audience was content with a general feeling of pleasure.

For all the women, however, it was a pleasant moment: while for all the men, it was a declaration of implicit submission, the consequences of which we would only fully understand at lunch and dinner, during collective moments of socializing.

Milka concluded the lecture by anticipating the theme of the afternoon lesson. "I would like us to take advantage of this first day to dispel two myths.

The first is that chastity should last an infinite time, or very long, or scheduled on a calendar.

The second is that liberation from the cage should coincide with a male orgasm.

My proposal, which each Keyholder can decide whether to join or not, is that after dinner the piano bar is devoted to a CFNM dance night. Let me explain further. Each Keyholder can wear the shoes she prefers, the most elegant or the most provocative outfit, and lead her partner to dance on the piano bar dance floor. We have a great selection of music, drinks, and even soft drinks for those who wish. For gentlemen, however, I propose a very stiff dress code: stiff, is the word, for Stiff Dicks.

I would like each of you to lead your man here naked, with his wrists cuffed behind his back (at the very least, or even elbows, collar, whatever you prefer) and without any cage. In fact: I would like them to arrive flaunting the most majestic erection possible.

The mechanism implicit in CFNM situations makes us all safe from harassment or uncomfortable situations: waiters and musicians, caged, will be there to protect us. But no accident has ever happened

After so many days of denial, some of your partners will have a desire to cum as soon as possible, and instead, we will force them to dance: a waltz, a rock, a slow dance."

"Can we even exchange them, to dance?" asked one of the twin sisters.

"Yes, of course, dancing doesn't mean cheating. It will be fun to see how embarrassed your men will be, forced to hold back cumming while dancing with their hard dicks rubbing against the silk skirt of a seductive woman, just a few steps away from their wives!"

"Yay! Let's dance tonight!" The twins were clearly well accustomed to swapping partners in the dance.

"The other myth to dispel is about timing. This Resort, dedicated to Gentle Femdom, does not support some games that have become fashionable, such as "Locktober", NNN as "No Nut November" and DDD as "Destroy Dick December". Uff, people don't know what to come up with anymore, I'm waiting for the trend of "Jerkoff Joined January" and the "Fabolous Family Fucking February" and "Make Me More March and May," not forgetting "Ate at Afternoon April."

And although you will find many couples on the Internet and in books who claim to add days of chastity as punishment, or to postpone the release to New Year's Eve or birthday, I have to advise you instead to always release them suddenly and unexpectedly.

Our experience in the Resort is this. If a man knows that he will be released in twenty days, for the first fifteen days he becomes resigned, and apathetic, because the release is too far away. If, on the other hand, he does not know whether he might be released in ten minutes, he remains active at all times. It is the same mechanism as the lottery: if you bet on an annual lottery, you will only be excited for a couple of days, whereas if you bet on a draw that happens every minute, every minute could be the winning one!

With that said, I declare the morning class concluded. See you on the terrace for lunch: remember the groups I have already divided with the "under the shade" group and the "under the Sun" group.

Chapter 11 The Lunch Break: What My Wife Ate.

The Resort's cooks were all men, and they appeared very busy cooking in the shade of the tent. The summer was very hot and there was a lot of sweating near the stove. Also, from the black bracelet worn by each, I was sure that each was wearing a cage.

The waitresses carrying the trays were almost all women, but not all. At least two waiters or three were males.

I would have been very embarrassed but by pure chance (I think) they were buzzing most often in the sunny area where there was Danai, who had lifted the silk and exposed her breasts to the sun, naked wearing only two shining piercings on her large nipples, and Pedro kneeling at her side, near her gold sandals.

Pedro was searching with his eyes for his wife Pam, who at that moment was stroking Erik the Red's blue balls with her bare foot.

His sister Cam was holding the pale Vincent's cage in her hand as she stared lustfully at young Virginia, standing there getting her pantyhose off Chris -- on her knees, and using only her teeth and tongue. She was in danger of being completely naked, Virginia, but Teacher Milka came to her rescue, returning her biker hat with its visor.

"That's it! A real lady doesn't eat lunch naked in front of guests, that would be very rude, hehehe."

She came toward us. Perhaps it was a form of courtesy for the older couple? Or maybe it was because she understood that I was very embarrassed to be the object of attention from a woman older than me, who was inundating me with news about naturist resorts in Austria? I don't know.

Teacher Milka walked quickly toward us, nodded silently to approve of my wife's posture (who was rubbing the blond tuft of pussy over Ulrich's thigh, standing straight up), then turned to the two of us and said, "Marie and Ludo dear, if both you would like to follow me, I would like to introduce two people from the advanced course."

"Oh, of course, dear, I leave my Ulrich in good hands, it seems to me, what do you think, Ludwig?"

I was used to hearing my name mispronounced by German customers and contractors, and I thought it was not appropriate to correct an elder person on the perfect pronunciation of my name. Only after a moment, did I realize that that was a submissive attitude: last night, the receptionist had corrected me without hesitation. Because she was a free person with the correct name, while I was just a prisoner with the wrong name.

We followed the teacher Milka. She introduced Marie to the girl with the most wonderful red hair I had ever seen. She was not beautiful on the face, and she did not have a perfect body; she was just a normal girl with natural red hair, as I could confirm from a quick yet careful examination of the tuft on her pubis.

She was naked except for a short dark green bolero open at the front, which covered her shoulders (perhaps to protect her from the sun), and on her head, she wore a wide woven straw hat. At her side stood a man with a beard and white hair, caged and cuffed.

Milka took charge of making the introductions. "Dear Marie, meet Connie, and her husband Sean, they are from Ireland and left their handcuff keys in the room. Would you be so kind as to feed Mr. Sean? In the meantime, Connie meets Ludo: his wife would have the keys to unlock the handcuff straps, but she is very busy right now with Marie's husband. If you don't mind, may I ask you to feed poor little Ludo?"

Connie smiled at me. Marie began to talk about nudist villages with the white-haired man, and occasionally fished canapés or nibbles from the trays of the girls in the room and fed him.

Connie was doing the same with me, but without a conversation about Naturism. She was wearing a purple bracelet: it meant she was participating in the advanced course.

"I would like to complete the introductions. My name is Connie, we flew with Air Lingus (the Irish fleet), and by adding the letters together, you can guess what my husband likes most:

«Cunnilingus her»! hehehe... old but gold...

But enough about me now.

Tell me about yourself, and your wife, why she's not here to nourish your cuffed body?"

"Well, it's our first day, and as our first practical lesson, the teacher took us out on the terrace to have lunch; but with a clever ruse, she separated each pair of spouses, assigning each Keyholder the husband of another. I think it's a kind of exercise, about trust and fidelity. Ours is an exclusively monogamous group and I exclude that anyone intends to cheat."

"Oh, so many memories! We also participated in the beginners' group last year. Yes, it's a typical Milka technique: every decision she makes seems randomized, but it's all part of the plan. Our class is also all monogamous and faithful couples, at least, as far as phallic penetration is never involved. But if I asked you to lick my pussy, would you obey?" While she was saying that, she sidled up to me and rubbed her bare nipples against my cuffed biceps.

"Oh ... I don't know ... maybe I should ask my wife's permission?"

"From the way the purple knob inside your cage has swelled, I think your Friend, down there, wants to give you his eager approval."

"That's very kind of you, Miss Connie, but honestly I think we should seek out my wife to ask her word for permission..."

"Let me guess: your wife is a very pretty little blonde with an asymmetrical haircut, half a shaved skull, and half with a light tuft?"

"Yes precisely. Do you know her yet?"

"No, but I would like to meet her as soon as possible. Right now you don't see her, but she's on her knees, wide-legged, with an unbuttoned shirt in front of a guest, and she's simulating a blowjob to a carrot... if I may be so judgmental, that's the luckiest carrot in the world!"

I turned around in a rush. I saw an incredible scene. My wife, my shy Gineke, had knelt in front of Mr. Ulrich, who was erect near the wall and leaning his back against the building. His penis was locked in the cage, but above the cage, with two hands, he was holding up a long, thick, fat carrot, already washed and peeled by the cooks for the dip.

My wife, without any shame, was loudly explaining how she was going to blowjob Mr. Ulrich, and to make sure he understood correctly, she was also mimicking every single gesture for the benefit of... the carrot. From the vantage point from which we were watching, her shaved skull was not hiding any movement of her tongue or lips.

Geena noticed that we were watching her and that an unknown redhead was holding my balls with one hand. Then, to tease me, without fully undressing, she shook the unbuttoned chemise off her back with a shrug of her shoulders, exposing her breasts and arms up to her elbow. With her hands she curled up the fabric, leaving her buttocks and pussy even more exposed, framed by the perfect shape of her sweet feet arched over her toes. Gathered like that, her linen chemise almost looked like a rope binding her arms.

Fortunately, everyone knew that Herr Ulrich was caged and that it was only a simulation aimed at teasing: otherwise, someone might have thought that my wife was the man's sex slave, engaged in a real blowjob with her arms tied behind her back.

I felt myself being dragged by an elbow. Miss Connie was forcibly leading me toward my kneeling wife.

"Good morning, and congratulations on the talented technique, Mrs. Wife-of-this-happily-caged-man. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Connie and I am Irish. They say it's good luck to kiss an Irish woman -- and since you, as a couple, are on your first day (I hear), perhaps you'd like some luck for the weeks ahead."

My wife remained on her knees. She looked into the redhead's eyes from the bottom up and blew a warm puff of breath to push the slight blond tuft away from her eyes. Her voice let out neither shyness nor reluctance: in fact, it sounded almost like a tone of defiance. My coy Gineke! I heard her reply, "Of course, Luck always comes in handy for a couple deep in love. What kind of kiss did you plan to propose?"

I thought that my wife would get up and kiss the stranger woman on her tongue: already that would be an incredibly exciting gesture, in front of so many people, and in that predicament. But Geena chose to remain on her knees in the bright sun.

"Well, as the saying goes, the human body has two pairs of lips, and the best kiss is the one that unites the ones above with the ones below."

My wife smiled, with such confidence and determination, I had never seen in her eyes. "It must be a magnificent language if it contains such fascinating and useful proverbs."

"I agree. Before, my first impulse was to ask your husband to lick my pussy, but he is so faithful and respectful to you, that he has twice asked me to seek your approval. But now that I have seen with my own eyes your oral skills, I wonder if perhaps I had put my bet on the least suitable person in the couple." The Irishwoman grinned devilishly.

A small group of people had formed around us, with bracelets of all colors.

Not all the people: some couples stood on the sidelines, and others were completely disinterested (Danai, in the full sunshine, was doing something interesting, but I didn't see it).

But near our scene, there were at least a dozen people, maybe more.

My wife stared into the redhead's eyes and told her, smiling, "The answer is complicated. In our couple, he is undoubtedly the most talented with the mouth, but there is just a small detail: I do not allow him to eat another woman's pussy today. Maybe I will change my mind sooner or later, but not today. But I can offer you a second alternative, Woman of Irish Luck: I, Geena, will lick your pussy instead of my husband's, for the duration of the lunch break, or until you surrender devastated with pleasure."

I couldn't believe my ears. A challenge under the "High Noon" sun, like in an old Western movie with Gary Cooper and Grace Kelly!

But the challenge had been delivered from the sweet lips of my shy wife's mouth and having for subject not guns, but precisely lips! I was about to faint, and my cock was swelling like never before.

The elder naturist Austrian lady intervened to take her husband away, almost as if she feared that he would be accidentally injured by the gunshots. "Excuse me, pardon me, let me take my man from the field of fire .. come to the apartment, Ulrich, I'll release you with the key, I don't care if the teacher scolds me afterward: it's clear you're too excited."

Immediately Connie leaned against the wall in Ulrich's place. But Ulrich did not go far: it was clear that he wanted to see the Sapphic spectacle up close.

My wife didn't even have to move: the pussy was right in front of her face. Geena began to lick slowly, touching the skin near the clitoris only with the tip of her tongue.

"Tell me, Geena ... (moan) are you a lesbian (groan) or are you even Bi?"

"Slurp, slurp... No."

"And (moan!) you're in love only with your husband, right?"

"Slurp, slurp... Yes!"

"So (groan) are you doing this (Aaah!) just to get our husbands excited in their little cages?"

"Slurp, slurp... Uh-u."

"Do you mind... (moan!) if I press the back of your head? (groan) I won't hurt you... too much... I swear!"

"Slurp, slurp... tied hands... slurp, slurp... force me... slurp, slurp... to any you want from me!" (Geena moved her shoulders to show both her torturer and the near audience that she could not free her elbows from the entangled linen chemise).

My wife stopped answering Connie's questions. She was too focused on licking her clitoris and sucking her pussy. I had never seen her lick a woman. She was as beautiful as an ancient Greek goddess. If I had a camera, I would have taken a thousand pictures of her to get a three-dimensional marble sculpture.

Connie held herself against the wall, while she pinched a nipple with one hand and forced my wife's head against her pussy with the other. From the gurgles, I sensed that Geena was sucking the redhead's labia, as I had often done with her: as if she were sucking a cock.

I was as if hypnotized. I will never forget that moment. In the meantime, however, I had forgotten my sense of time. It could have been a few minutes or it could have been many. I could hear my wife's mouth making many noises as if the pussy humor had flooded her saliva-filled mouth. Drool dripped from her chin onto her bare chest, and no one dared to intervene to safeguard her dignity. We were Lightyears away from Munich.

Now Connie was no longer speaking: she put both hands on my wife's hair, pushing her mercilessly with outstretched knuckles. The redhead had her neck turned upward and her eyes closed, groaning and shaking. She began to scream relentlessly. Everyone, even those who were further away, came to see what was happening.

Connie let out an extreme scream and then let go of the double hold on the back of my wife's head. Geena coughed as if she were choking, and nonstop drool dripped from her lower lip: it was the vaginal humor of the lucky Irishwoman.

Everyone stood motionless, for a second that seemed endless.

Weak, Connie opened her eyes to seek her husband. Her voice was only a whisper, but the words were sharp orders. "Sean! Lift me... and take me home. You: you, lucky husband of this amazing woman. Lift her, and take her... Ah! Puff. You're still handcuffed. Big trouble. Puff! Milka, seek Milka and ask Milka for help, she knows what to do." As soon as her husband picked her up, Connie fainted.

Milka had everything under control. She spoke like a policewoman at a crime scene. "All regular, circulate, disperse, nothing more to see here, I'll take care of the fallen, keep eating food all of you, drink and hydrate because today the sun is hot, at 4 p.m. is the next class."

Then turning to me Milka whispered, "Ludo, do you know where are the keys for your handcuffs, or is it a secret?"

"It's the same key Geena wears around her neck, but I can't touch it, never, I promised."

"I will touch it by myself. This amazing woman... she needs some rest. And you... you need to carry her to the room with your strong arms. (Milka released my handcuffs in an instant). Can you do it, or do you need help? My husband is here on purpose."

"I can do it... I've always been able to do it."

"Take her to the bedroom and help her rest. At 4 p.m. you will come to class, on time, and in handcuffs. Your punctuality is mandatory; she, by contrast, is free to delay as long as she wants. I will write her a little message. Now go."

My wife tried weakly to protest, like a naughty child refusing bedtime, her mouth still full of drool. "I don't want to go to the room!"