Gentle Resort: Husband-Free Day

"Wait, girl, just a moment! I remembered something."

"Of course Ma'am.

Any capricious whim of yours will be an order for all of us, Ma'am."

Meanwhile, my husband approached the bed. It was funny to see the contrast between that Croatian girl's elegant legs, gorgeous in her short skirt and high heels, and my husband's hairy legs as he knelt down.

The girl smiled too.

Slowly I put the coffee cup to his half-open mouth. It was like giving a small child a drink; his mouth was at just the right height. Was I his mother and he was my baby? Not really: I was his Queen, and he was my lovely beaver licker. A beaver without much fur, but not to please him: my shaved skin communicated a lot more sensations to me, and the thin blond tuft amused me.

"Is the coffee too hot?" whispered I in a burst of motherly concern. Damn! I was distracted, and had immediately become too affectionate!

But he was ready to answer, bringing the scene back to the right tone: "No, my Queen".

I must admit that my husband was precisely born for that role.

But I am also at ease.

I spread my bare legs, sticking out of the sheet, and said in an imperious tone: "I ordered breakfast just for me: a slice of cake, biscuits, croissant, orange juice, grapes, and yogurt. Just one portion for one person. [then I turned to the girl].

Loucije, be nice, would you remove the chandelier from the hook in the middle of the ceiling? Yesterday it was suggested to me that it is perfect to hang a reluctant slave, and have him whipped for two hours by a cruel torturer."

Without saying a word Loucije reached with her hand for a switch near the door, which I had not even seen. I thought it was necessary to climb on a chair and do a lot of acrobatics (and my husband, from below, would have enjoyed an exciting view of the girl's firm buttocks) but the resort workers had made it easy for them. Just as well. The only one who had to struggle, in that room, was my husband, not some poor guiltless barmaid.

'While I'm eating, it would be rude for you not to eat with me, wouldn't it Hubby? Eat my pussy: move the fabric of the thong with your tongue, without using your teeth, and lick me while I enjoy my breakfast.

Feeling humiliated because the girl sees you giving head? Don't worry, the resort's website is very explicit about this, employees are used to seeing much worse things. Anyway, if you're that embarrassed, I can ask her...

Loucije dear, sorry to interrupt your work, maybe it bothers you if my husband licks my pussy while you move the candlestick?"

"No, Ma'am, you two go ahead...I see him struggling and straining, and it's very funny, but it doesn't bother me."

She seemed sincere to me. Either that or she was pretending, and actually hated the job and was annoyed by our exhibitionism. But her face looked sincere, and in the previous days, Milka had told us that all the women working in the resort are also keyholders who also lived the lifestyle in their families, in a Female Leaded Relationship FLR, which I was quite inclined to believe she was sincere.

Milka also seemed so passionate about the Lifestyle.

And anyway, I thought, trying to rid myself of a misguided sense of guilt, I had not asked the girl to masturbate or dance naked: she was just moving a chandelier, topless, as women in every country in the world, from ancient Crete to the Caribbean, had done for centuries.

All these thoughts in a split second.

My husband's tongue on my clitoris brought me back to Planet Earth. "Ah! Easy! Not the clit! Proceed slowly, slave, why are you so hasty?"

Ah, my plan was working all too well!

Hearing the order about the ceiling hook, Ludo had thought I wanted to hang him by the wrists for two hours, and maybe ask the girl to whip him!

Ah, poor Ludo!

Now he was frantic, half excited and half frightened.

The joke had already taken effect.

I ate a grape, then very calmly said to the girl: 'Thank you, Loucije, put it on the cabinet. Now that I have seen how it rises and falls, I can use it as I please. Go ahead, I don't need your help anymore until ten o'clock, thank you very much."

The girl smiled and went out, leaving me alone with my husband.

I kept eating breakfast and he kept eating my pussy, but with less hurry. Good. Good boy.

"Your breakfast is waiting for you at the beach bar at 10 o'clock sharp: Loucjie will feed you, if you behave, she will write me a short report on your behavior.

As you well know, you, unfortunately, did not receive the electronic bracelet that is used to make payments within the Resort.

Once again, freedom was taken away from you, to give it to me.

Ha, ha, weird tricks of Karma!

So I paid for your breakfast for you.

You will have soft drinks, but nothing alcoholic.

Fruit juices, mainly, which you can sip from a straw, despite your wrists being cuffed behind your back.

I asked Loucjie if they have bananas, and she said yes.

To avoid the temptation for her to humiliate you by holding a long banana in front of her pussy while you are on your knees, I specifically asked her to hold the banana with her hands under her tits, making the tip protruding above the chain between the pierced nipples... I hope my choice is to your taste. [he nodded even though I didn't need approval].

You will also have a yogurt: I asked Loucije to pour it over her tits and make you lick it drop by drop.

She replied that to encourage you she will instruct you to swallow it all, I hope it's not too kinky for you: it's a vanilla-flavored yogurt, whitish with a slight yellowish tint, I recommend you swallow it, it's mandatory..."

From the intensity with which Ludo was sucking my pussy at that moment, I could have sworn he was horny as hell.

I was excited too, and I don't remember what other things I said.

Maybe I said other things again.

Maybe every little thing I said contributed to his arousal in his little cage, and he groaned and grunted but didn't stop eating my pussy.

Maybe I stopped uttering complete words and started moaning and squirming.

The thought that his cock was locked inside the cage, and that he was willing to give me head without even asking to cum, drove me crazy.

I lost track of time.

Finally, I grabbed his head and pressed it against me, preventing any escape. After a phase of absolute bliss (which might have lasted two seconds or two hours I don't know), I reached an orgasm while he continued to strain inside the cage, moaning.

Petite mort.

I was breathless as he gasped.

I was motionless, he was trembling.

I had had an intense orgasm, while he accumulated frustration and despair, and his face was all smeared with my vaginal humor mixed with his saliva.

Should I have washed him?

Should I have allowed him to wash his face, to free his wrists, to regain a shred of dignity?

No.

I would not have told him «wash your face and ears» as if I were the mother of a small child.

We stayed like that until almost the hour of the ten o'clock lesson. Me lying down, legs spread wide and pussy open, and him on his knees in adoration before his queen.

He never asked to be released and never used his safewords, and this filled me with pride.

Filled with pride and endorphins from my orgasm, I stood up. I saw myself in the mirror and thought that I had put on weight: fortunately, I had cut my hair short and it looked tidy (I only had a quiff on one side, and shaved to zero on the other, like Natalie Dormer).

I chased away all the ghosts imposed by the fashion industry and concentrated on the man who adored me. All my doubts could be dispelled, by the adoring eyes of my husband, who looked at me as if I had been Dormer at 21, and not a 50-year-old who had given birth twice.

I searched for a haughty, stern tone of voice.

'Your Queen has to go to an important meeting, slave. What kind of outfit do you suggest? Do I go like this, or wear a fancy dress?"

"You look gorgeous either way, Gineke, you know that," he whispered, with puppy eyes.

"Correct. OK, then. I'll go with this outfit. I mean, dressed, but almost naked. Because of you: you tired me out, with your insatiable tongue."

"Forgive me, Queen"

"I'll only forgive you if you behave yourself at the beach bar. Perhaps there will also be other keyholders or other caged husbands.

I give you my permission to make conversation, and all that is normally done at the bar, but your wrists must remain cuffed at all times, and you must always remain near Loucije, standing, or sitting on the stool, where she will put you. Always obey her for anything."

"Yes, Gineke"

"You already know what outfit I thought of for you at the bar, right?"

"Yes"

"If you want to use a safeword this is the time, darling"

"No, no safeword. Blue balls yesterday, blue balls again this morning: I can resist. And even if Loucije summons other girls to tease me and deny me, humiliating me before a silent audience of males, I know I will be able to resist, out of devotion to you."

My husband's devout and sincere words gave me butterflies in my stomach again. But how was this possible? I had just had an orgasm, and again I felt ready for another facesitting session. I smiled at my stallion.

"You're in luck, Slave because in ten minutes I have to be at a meeting organized by Milka. Otherwise, you would have had to do the pussy encore, while your cock strains painfully inside the metal bars.

But luckily for you, it's too late, Ludo, ha, ha!

Hurry up!

Being late is very rude, and not befitting a prudish, bourgeois gentlewoman!"

He looked at me as I pranced happily towards the door. I was wearing my dark green silk dressing gown, the thin, cupless balconette holding my tits, and the green thong. Barefoot, but elegant and refined like a Countess.

He, on the other hand, was naked, caged, and with his mouth and nose smeared with the smell of my pussy.

He looked at me with puppy-dog eyes, as if to ask me something, but said nothing.

I pretended to misunderstand the question he had not asked.

"Oh poor hubby, I certainly can't let you go out in public like this, can I? Silly me! You need me to... oh, of course... I'll do it right away darling... just give me time to get it right..."

He thought I was going to wipe his face with wet wipes.

Instead, I came back with two more handcuffs. I grabbed his elbows and squeezed them behind his back.

They were two ordinary Velcro manacles and if he had his wrists free it would have been easy to free himself, but in that condition, it would have been impossible for him.

I knew it would be humiliating for him to walk around the beach exposed like that, with his shoulders pulled back and the caged cock shown to everyone.

Therefore, I decided to give him a chance to save himself, pretending to be concerned about his physical pain and not the humiliation. "Do you remember which country borders Finland, darling?"

He replied without hesitation, "Estonia, it's beautiful both in winter and summer."

If he had said Sweden, I would have let his elbows loose. But by choosing Estonia, he had condemned himself to the most shameful humiliation. CLICK! The plastic hooks of the manacles were hooked.

We both walked out of the flat.

I was elegantly dressed in dark green silk, and had an imperial gait: he was naked as a worm, with his cock cocooned like that of a worm, and his feet bare like a poor beggar. He looked like a prisoner and blushed with shame.

With my hand, I grabbed him by the caged cock and forced him to walk behind me: I felt his blue balls swell at the touch of my fingers.

I felt as if I were richer and more powerful than the Queen of Sheba, and my heart was pounding with joy and pride.

We parted after a short stretch of wet sandy path, in front of the beach bar where I booked breakfast for him served with a «special» smile. He would stay there for the next two hours, while I went to the training room.

I arrived at the meeting with a big smile on my face. Some of the other women were beaming, others slightly worried. I was curious to know what each of them had invented to torture their caged husbands. But before we could speak, Milka arrived to start the Meeting, and so I had to force myself to restrain my curiosity. [The events of the two protagonists continue separately for two hours, in chapters: Chapter 3 a reluctant wife, and Chapter 4 a meeting of female confessions].

.

Chapter 3. A caged husband teased in a bar.

.

Ludo's wife had booked a special breakfast for him. The barmaid, Loucjie, was waiting for him topless, with a banana erect between her pierced nipples joined by a thin gold chain.

Ludo had a real obsession with piercings, and the thought that his wife had ordered just that kind of breakfast made him horny as hell. Loucije was a pretty young girl, and she knew how to tease the bar patrons with her short skirt and slender legs.

After the banana, Loucjie took a tepid yogurt, which she had kept out of the fridge on purpose so that it would reach the right temperature. She took a spoon and smeared the yogurt on her tits, then leaned towards Ludo for him to lick it all off.

The yogurt, by his wife's express order, was whitish and looked like semen.

The girl smiled invitingly at him.

In the beach bar, there were also other people. There was Erich the Red, and he was handcuffed, but he was chatting with another barmaid without any kind of predicament: sure, his cock struggled against the inner walls of the cage, and surely that girl was talking to him about extreme BDSM practices just to tease him. But Erich seemed calm and was not suffering any humiliation. Not far away, there was the old Austrian man, a naturist: Herr Ulrich, naked in his cage, comfortably seated at a small table, with very comfortable handcuffs joined by a chain almost a foot long. A very light restrainment, which only served to fulfill the protocol of the bar rules: 'all men caged and cuffed'. But he was seated in a dignified manner, sucking a normal orange cocktail through a straw. Instead, Ludo was completely exposed, standing, could not bend his shoulders to hide the cage, and was forced to lick the girl's tits in front of everyone.

He knew that his wife had given precise orders: he was to lick and swallow everything. But because of his personal fetish for pierced nipples, this would cause him perpetual attempts at erections inside the rigid metal bars of the cage.

The barmaid giggled as he groaned. She too was a keyholder and knew what effect the pierced nipples also had on her own (also caged) husband. In a way, the barmaid thought it was pleasurable to use her own body to please the client: which in this case was the absent wife, not the suffering husband. It was little more than a game for her: but it was a huge pain for him.

Hearing Ludo moan as he licked that whitish cream from her nipples, Loucije remembered that perhaps he might need a break.

Without removing her chest from his mouth, she reached out a hand and picked up a small plate with small shrimp and mayonnaise sandwiches, on which a few small flags were stuck.

In a detached voice, she told the poor handcuffed man if he wanted to choose a sandwich. He opened his eyes and saw that there were both Swedish and Danish flags. His wife had been so prescient, that she had even asked him to use one of her safewords!

His heart filled with joy as his cock filled the cage with impetus, pressing flesh against the bars.

"Croatia, for me, will do, but not now, I beg you, I still have to finish my yogurt..."

"of course!" smiled the barmaid, "your wife said you have to swallow it all!" she exclaimed loudly, on purpose to be heard by the others.

Ludo blushed with shame.

Erich tried to encourage him, in a sincere voice. "Chin up, Ludo, we all know it's only yogurt..." but the other barmaid scolded him: "Tsk, tsk, mister Erich, it's not fair to help one who is suffering humiliation..." and so Erich remained silent.

After Ludo had finished licking all the yogurt, the barmaid offered him the tray with the shrimp sandwiches again, with the paper flags.

At that moment an unknown man and woman arrived. Ludo thanked his lucky stars: it was humiliating to be seen in handcuffs, but at least he had his mouth on a sandwich and not on the pierced nipple of a girl in the bar.

The man was naked, with a big hat on his head, and his cock locked inside a black silicone cage. The woman was very provocative, with an almost transparent silk dress and erect nipples, but she kept her eyes downcast as if she were very shy and reluctant.

Loucije smiled at the newcomers.

"Good morning, we have been expecting you. You should be Mr. Steve and Ms. Tabby, correct?"

"Yes of course we are here for the photo shoot. Oh, wait! We only photograph espresso cups! [he rushed to clarify]. We don't take pictures of men in handcuffs! Ha, ha! No, seriously, it's for an espresso advertisement, on the beach, not here."

The wife remained silent but began to look at the other caged men in the beach bar, with obvious curiosity.

The barmaid addressed her directly. "Ma'am, please, if you don't mind, the rules of the beach bar require all men to be caged and cuffed, at the very least," and in her voice, she emphatically stressed, "at the very least."

"Oh!" the woman roused herself as if waking from a dream. "Oh, sorry, I've never cuffed anyone and I don't know how to do it."

"No problem, Ma'am, this is a Chastity Resort but Gentle and Soft. Here in the bar store, we have handcuffs of all kinds: comfortable, or uncomfortable for him; soft, or hard, as his wife prefers. And we also have these gags... new, of course, in the original factory packaging, these are items that are best avoided to be borrowed. I'm not saying this to sell... it's just that disinfectants often taste bad in the mouth."

"Yay! Look, my dear husband, this place is so wonderful, they even have a way to shut you up! You agree, don't you? After all, it is your fault that you are caged and that you chose this island with these rules... we are here to fulfill a wish of yours!"

The husband pouted but nodded, already silent.

The wife chirped: "I'll buy one of those gags, the smallest one because it's the first time: the important thing is that my husband shuts up for a few minutes! And for handcuffs, the chain ones will do... I've never handcuffed him and I don't want to give him a shoulder sprain on the very first day."

"Good choice, ma'am," Loucije said in a matter-of-fact tone as if she had sold tyres in a car store.

The Barmaid stepped out from the counter and showed the woman how to do both the handcuffs and the gag. Then she returned to her seat behind the bar, and with a big smile asked, "Can I tempt a happy lady with some drinks? It's on the house."

"A piña colada will be fine, thank you. And congratulations on the piercings: very graceful."

"Uh! I forgot. If topless bothers the lady I can get dressed..."

"No, not at all. I like to see how my husband winces at such pure beauty. You know, if I may tell you, it is my husband's fault that we are here. I am a very shy woman, and since our children went to live in another city, I feel ugly and fat.

We are empty nesters. I am 49 years old, and I feel the weight of the dates approaching. But he kept telling me that I am beautiful and attractive even though I am my age. Bah!"

The husband nodded with conviction.

While the barmaid prepared the piña colada, Erich and Ludo had come closer to hear the story of the lady in her almost transparent outfit.

Tabby sat down on a high swivel stool and continued telling the story, looking into the barmaid's eyes to avoid looking at the men around her.

Tabby felt the tension of the longing glances. But she was aware that they were completely harmless. With his wrists handcuffed behind his back, and his cock locked inside the cage, it was as if each of those men were furniture in the decor. It was as if in the lovely little beach bar there was only her, the barmaid who was making her cocktails, and the other barmaid who was cleaning the bar.