The First Day of Caged Honeymoon

"Well, my groom didn't really penetrate me on the wedding night: we had made love before, anyway, but not on the first night."

"Oh, dear, what is the Honeymoon? It's that magical moment that lasts a week or two when the bride gives up pure romance to indulge in at least a little vaginal penetration for the groom; while he slowly gives up wasteful restaurants and romantic gifts, because after reaching the pinnacle's apex of spending on the wedding day, the following weeks will inevitably be less magnificent than that celebration. Result: she is more carnal, and he is less romantic. Then, of course, she will start making excuses to fuck less often: headaches, too hot, too cold... the usual routine of all couples. My husband and I were like that too... I raised two children with a husband like that, between headaches and specious excuses. Then we both realized that he craved to be a willing cuckold and now we are finally happy."

"Ah, no, it's different for us, I'm not available," huffed Britney.

"Of course, dear, every couple experiences the lifestyle differently! It's not like I want to convert you or convince you. In this resort you two can live the way you want... nothing is mandatory, there is complete freedom. And best of all, there are no noisy children!"

"We would like to have two children sooner or later..."

"How nice! Two children, already on our honeymoon! How tender of you. Well, it means you won't be vacationing here that year..."

"No, we will. I previously saw a full-term pregnant girl, right there, and I'm sure I read in the brochure that they have a nursery for babies in the annex depandance on the south end of the island."

"Oh? Maybe so. When we started with the cage, I had already given birth twice, so I never paid attention to those details. Good luck then!"

My wife dragged me away by one of my arms, while I stared mesmerized at that Charlotte's pierced navel. I would follow Britney as she walked resolutely toward a receptionist at the resort's central desk.

I was very amazed at the amount of things my wife knew about this resort.

I managed not to ask anything, though, as my wife took the key at the front desk (booked under her name!).

A blond girl in a dark blue uniform handed her the key and said, "Junior Suite number 201, the first in the second path to the right. All the information is here, only for you, madam" and handed my wife a QR code to scan. Only to her, though: I was left without it.

I asked nothing as I dragged the suitcases to our junior suite. The wet sand path was soft and welcoming: my wife removed her shoes and walked on the sand barefoot. I could see in her gait an infinite joy, confirmed by the smile in her eyes.

A gentle wind softened the afternoon heat. Trees filled the air with fragrance: olive trees, almond trees, and myrtle bushes. There is no more beautiful place than the small islands of the central Mediterranean, between Greece and Croatia. I read that in some "behind the scenes" from Game of Thrones.

Brintey opened the door to the junior suite (our "home"). It was like a small independent cottage: not a bungalow, but a real brick house with AC. There was a big king-size bed, a mirror on the ceiling, and two big mirrors as high as the wall in the middle of the windows. In one room was a small kitchenette, perhaps for making breakfast or cocktails (I thought); in the other room was a large bathroom with a jacuzzi tub.

In front of the bed was a St. Andrew's Cross Made of smoothed dark hardwood, with large handcuff hooks. Two television screens: one above the Cross, and one above the headboard I was silent, stunned. We had experienced BDSM sex before, but a real X-Cross was new. The mirror on the ceiling was magnificent: I love the shape of my wife's back, and I was finally going to get a chance to look at her if she rode me... IF, IF she ever decided that.

I quickly chased that thought away because the bars of the cage were too tight around my erection! I imagined that maybe she wanted to use the X-Cross to torture me: she could masturbate her pussy with the magic wand, and she could orgasm in front of me moaning, while I could not reach her. What a torture!

"Do you like it here, Dean dear?" she chirped.

"I like whatever you decide, my Owner," I whispered.

"Oh, darling, it's so beautiful here! And I'm so tired from the trip... wouldn't you like to cuddle me a little, darling?"

The meaning of "Cuddle", in that situation, meant that my cock would explode inside the bars, while the blue balls continued to hang swollen under the metal ring, also exposed by the total absence of pubic hair.

In a moment my wife stripped naked, put on a very thin transparent silk robe that covered only her shoulders leaving her tits exposed, and lay down on the bed.

She was never completely naked. Clothed Female, CFNM: Britney always wore something, to remind me that I was submissive ever, while she was always free. She will always wear something: just a hat, or heeled shoes, or a thong. Today, she wore a silk shrug sleeve, covering just her shoulders and arms.

She beckoned me to undress with her finger, but without spreading her legs. Perhaps she was tired from the trip or distracted by Charlotte's talk: but I understood that she did not desire my tongue at that moment.

I approached her, naked and imprisoned. I lay down and hugged and kissed her a thousand times until she fell asleep in my arms.

I had slept on the plane and lay there contemplating our bodies in the large mirror fixed to the ceiling. "I may not spurt; I can not spurt. I can't sleep. I just may love her."

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§.3 The Full Content of My Large Suitcase for a Whole Honeymoon.

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After a time that seemed endless to me, Britney woke up.

She kissed my mouth and said, "I have to use the bathroom. You have the order to execute: go to the kitchenette and make two cups of their stronger espresso. Everything should be available, the brochure was very clear."

I found an automatic espresso machine and a few different packs of capsules with different flavors. Almond was definitely fine for Britney, and for me, a decaf would be enough, I was already pretty excited.

I found a silver tray, and a fine white porcelain service, Bone China. Brown sugar for her: she had thought of everything! A bottle of sparkling water. Perfect.

I heard the flushing of the toilet in the bathroom, then the sound of water washing, and Britney's voice heralded another order. "I would like you to wear the barbecue's apron too, honey!"

I was a little surprised. I searched the door and the closet to see if there was a huge and masculine barbecue apron, the kind made of leather, suitable for covering a strong, manly man from shoulder to hip to mid-thigh. But I couldn't see it anywhere.

I was sorry to fall into the cliché of the male who has to ask his wife where things are in the kitchen (and hoped she would not answer "In the usual place!") but I cleared my throat with a cough and asked, "Britney, I can't find the apron..."

"Oh, dear, perhaps it is so small, that you do not see it? I saw it before, it is clear leather, on the middle of the table!"

Oh! I thought it was a table centerpiece!

I lifted it. It had a very thin clear lace, in which I could stick my neck. But the size was wrong: the leather handkerchief only covered my navel, leaving both penis and testicles dangling in full view.

"Come here from the bed, Dean dear, don't keep your Owner waiting!"

Slowly I entered the bedroom.

Britney clapped her hands happily, "Yay! The little barbecue apron looks so good on you!"

"Isn't it a little too short?"

"No, I asked for exactly this size. And it's not feminine: if I made you wear a skirt, it would seem feminine. But a small barbecue apron is used by many males in their trades: tailors, cobblers, and cooks. I explicitly asked the shopkeeper that he give me the shortest size, to make sure it would not cover in my eyes my most precious possessions: MY cock and MY testicles, prisoners of MY cage under MY key! Don't you find that the dark blue of the balls matches wonderfully with the light leather of the apron?"

Agreed. I nodded.

We drank the coffee in silence. The taste was magnificent.

She looked ostentatiously at her watch and then said. "We are on time to attend the cocktail reception. And I particularly want to make a good impression. Would you mind opening your large suitcase, dear? That way you can see what you might choose to wear."

I lifted my suitcase. It was very heavy but I didn't know what was in it: my wife's sister had packed it while I showered shaved and dressed for the wedding.

I opened it.

There was no dress in it.

Not even a sock.

Not even a boxer.

Nothing.

The large and heavy suitcase was full of sex toys. Some brand new, in the packing box: I recognized a strapon with all its harnesses and other very bulky boxes. Then there were several handcuffs (metal and leather), a gag, a pair of anal plugs... and other things inside cloth bags.

I looked up and in the mirror, I saw that my wife was laughing joyfully.

"Do you like your surprise? Here are the contents of your suitcase! For the duration of the whole Honeymoon, I want your beautiful body to be naked at all times, my love. I am so proud of your devotion that I cannot be content with flaunting the key to the necklace! I want everyone to see your swollen testicles dangling under the cage!"

I nodded but some unconscious movement of the body urged her to add a few sentences. She said, "I can well see that the idea turns you on because you have the knob throbbing purple against the bars. I can tell from your look, though, that you are worried. If you are not 100 percent convinced, just utter one of your safe words. Red and I'll buy you a hundred dresses at the resort stores. Yellow, and I'll buy you one shirt, one pair of pants, and two swimsuits. Say whatever you want, you are free to use any safe word, as always."

"Green, my love, everything is green for me. My only doubt is about the sea rocks in Croatia and the tennis court, how could I play sports..."

Britney breathed a deep sigh of relief, "Oh, it was THAT! It's not like I'm crazy! For each sport, there will be the appropriate uniform... it's a high-end resort, and those who don't have the equipment can rent it. It's like bowling or the skating rink: you have to wear the shoes that the manager of the sporting activity rents to you. There are many different sports on the island here, and I certainly couldn't bring both skates and flippers! For the sharp sea rocks, they rent special shoes, your size is always 42, so there will be no problem."

"What about the clothes I was wearing today?"

"Oh, you poor fool my love! That's a Butler's uniform, didn't you notice? A fancy white button-down shirt with French-style tips, dark trousers... I thought maybe sometimes I might like to be served in the garden by an obedient Butler. Your zipper will be opened and your testicles exposed on full display, it's obvious. You won't mind, standing by my chaise longue while I sunbathe almost naked? I might as well fall asleep with my thighs apart, or masturbate in front of everyone, and you would be standing there beside me, motionless and "erect"... what do you say? What if I ordered you to also serve lemonade to a lady or two, a friend of mine, also naked in our garden? You would look very elegant dressed as a butler... I even brought a bow tie for you to wear around your neck!"

Briteny closed her eyes, full of joy. It was clear that she had been anticipating this moment several times while booking this junior suite. I imagined that she had chosen the garden closest to the intersection of paths, on purpose for more people to walk past us, watching over the short fences me caged and her with wide-open labia.

I looked at my wife's tits. Her nipples had become dark and erect indisputable symptom that she had become very aroused, saying those things to me. Britney smiled and looked at me lovingly.

"Oh, Dean! You are such a sweetheart. Are you sure it doesn't bother you to be shown naked to everyone, nude or clothed, but always with the cage prominently displayed?"

"I trust you. You know there are only two things that are out of bounds. No gay intercourse, and no cuckolding. Everything else is at your discretion."

"What if I told you that at the cocktail party, the two of us would form a CFNM couple? That you will be naked like an ancient Greek slave, while I will be dressed in sexy lingerie, a revealing dress, and high heels?"

"Okay."

"What if I told you that -- although we've never done it -- that I have a leash with a hook to attach to your cage, to carry you like a pet property?"

"Okay. Anything you want, honey. And... if I can add something..."

"Oh? You can't add clothes or covers, just no." Brit stared sternly at me.

"I would like you to cuff my wrists behind my back. In front of your bridesmaids, the handcuffs kept me from instinctively covering myself... and I fear that at the cocktail party, I might succumb to the instinct to cover myself."

Britney looked at me with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "You naughty pervert... you want to top from the bottom, huh? You want to prove to your Owner that you're kinkier than she is, huh? All right: wish granted. Look well in your large suitcase: there are soft leather handcuffs that you can wear for a very long time without pain. And now that I see your little cute ass, I can think of an addition too... look for the emerald green gemstone anal plug. You will come to the party with a plug stuck in your asshole. I decided so, to show you that your Wife is more kinky than you!"

She waited for me to drink my coffee, then cuffed my wrists behind my back.

They were completely new handcuffs, made of padded leather, very soft to the touch but also very strong. I quickly realized that she had bought them so that I could sleep with the cuffs on me every night.

Britney lay on the bed with her thighs open and she wiggled her ass invitingly.

The sight of her open legs, calves, soles, and that magnificent ass made me horny.

She said, "Lick my asshole, Dean dear, lick my asshole on the first day of the honeymoon. Meantime, I'll think about which outfit to wear... which one might be most exciting to your eyes? Erotic enough to get men's attention, but not as slutty as that Charlotte, who honestly, with that tattoo, looked very gross to me!"

Handcuffed, I licked her asshole with all my enthusiasm. I adored every part of her body, the magnificent feet, the curve of her calves, the solid firmness of her firm buttocks. Although from that position I could not see her magnificent navel, and her small but delicious boobs, I adored the shape of her back, and the dimples of Venus above her kidneys.

She laughed, "I wrote to my bridesmaids that we will often send pictures of the two of us... Couple selfies, but caged! The other couples on Honeymoon post romantic photos of cafeterias and restaurants, but I want to post CFNM photos, in which I will be elegantly dressed, and you will be naked and caged! Maybe on your knees, or in a worshipper position: what do you say?"

The thought made me horny. It was not humiliating: the girls had already seen me in handcuffs and with my tongue, I had given orgasms to each of them. It was... kinky. It was our thing, typically ours. The two of us were not the classic vanilla, boring, predictable couple. We were just us, and the girls understood that without judging.

I continued to impale her asshole with my tongue, with greater intensity and energy. Britney laughed with delight. "Lick my asshole, and if you try hard enough, I'll let you lick my pussy, too, before we go to the cocktail party! That way everyone will recognize the smell of your wife's orgasm on your face, because I certainly won't permit you to wash your mouth, ha, ha!"

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That was everything I had been longing for since my first Honeymoon afternoon. As I licked it, I smiled: I was finally happy.

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To be continued ASAP

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### Disclaimer. This story can be read without following the whole series. Because I am a bad Author, this series does not proceed chronologically, because I have not yet finished writing the chapter about the party after the wedding.

If you enjoyed this story, I wrote about airports and airline flights in another series, "12 Labors Of Hercules, Caged Pt. 07 and 08"

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