Chaste Honeymoon Almost Unlocked

Chaste Honeymoon: Almost Unlocked

A Keyholder allows a strong erection to her husband, but...

### Disclaimer. This is completely imaginary fiction. All the characters are over 18 years old. After their very fetish wedding, Dean and Britney are on their Chaste Honeymoon in a peculiar Resort friendly open to naturists and fetishists (each husband with his penis locked in a cage), but it is not necessary to read previous episodes of the series "Here Comes The Bride (Only)" https://www.literotica.com/series/se/here-comes-the-bride-only. English is not my mother tongue, forgive my mistakes.###

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Chapter 1 -- The Importance Of Being... EARNED.

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I had once read in a book, "Even when I've somehow 'earned' time out of my chastity cage, my wife likes to make it challenging for me to get any relief."

There was a picture of a man with a hard cock but wrists and ankles cuffed behind his back. The cock was free, but in the middle of the thin air, with no chance to stroke it.

In our "hygienic" routine, my wife would often handcuff me and then proceed with the washing.

I always had very few hair bulbs and those few grew slowly, so they were never a problem. I guess it can be problematic for men much hairier than me.

My wife usually wore gray sweatpants or pajamas, just to communicate to me on a subconscious level that we were not engaging in sexual activity.

Then she would only wash my penis with cold water, and even if I happened to have any initial erection, the cold water would quickly wash it away.

Britney would soap me deeply and leave my flaccid cock hidden in a cloud of suds, like in a Doris Day movie. Only then would her serious face light up with a smile of joy, and she would say, "What a cutie you are, Dean darling!"

She said it, just as my penis had completely disappeared from view.

I am sure a psychologist would find an explanation for this sudden joy of my wife, but I am not educated enough to understand it.

That afternoon, after washing and drying me by gently dabbing my soft skin, Britney took a dog collar and fastened it around my neck, hooking it on a long chain. Then she giggled and said, "I have a surprise for you, Dean dear!"

For the first time in weeks, my penis was free. And as soon as the rush of blood managed to counteract the cold sensation of the shower water, the penis began to stiffen.

I had to warn her!

"Britney... my Love, did you forget my cage..."

"Oh, no! I didn't forget anything, Dean dear! This is just your surprise! It's such a gorgeous afternoon, and I've decided to allow you to see off. But there are a few little rules.

First rule: I will be lying on the chaise longue in the garden, naked in front of you, with my thighs open and, yes, even my pussy wide open. I want your cum to reach me and cover my belly button. Do you feel up to it?

Second rule. You will remain chained using the collar. The chain is attached to the table, inside. And, if you're wondering... yes, I've measured: my pussy will be close enough to be flooded by your ejaculation, but too far away for you to penetrate me. So near and yet so far. Do you feel up to it, too? It seems to me that your friend over there is pretty UP, ha, ha!"

I blushed.

My cock was so hard because Britney was telling me about my ejaculation to land on her delicious tummy!

"Third rule. You can jack off with your hands-free, but always remain my Butler, available to my female guests. And the garden is right along the main path. And it might have happened that, without thinking about it, I asked some girls to drop by to pay a visit... in that case, you should stop your public masturbation, and serve each one of the women by obeying any request.

Are you up to it?

Of course, you are UP!

You love serving my guests, offering them glasses and other items from the kitchen, and cleaning their nipples and ankles with your tongue, don't you?

And you like to watch their gait as they walk, and their turgid nipples, and their protruding clitorises.... innit?

Don't say anything... your friend sincerely confesses your desire.

Fourth rule.

Oh! You are so funny when you blush!

But I want to keep that shyness just for myself and hide it from other women.

Do you agree? I have to assume that this silence counts as a "yes, the groom agrees".

So I'd like you to keep this leather mask on -- with the zippers over your eyes and mouth tightly closed. Oh, sure, it will be harder to aim -- let's say if you cum without covering my belly button with cum, there will be punishments. All clear?"

I nodded.

"Dean dear, the erection you are exhibiting shows that you like my rules.

I will put the leather mask on you now, but then it will be difficult for you to speak clearly: if you want to use a safe word, you must do so now."

"No, my queen, I perfectly agree with everything."

I had my hands free and my cock free, for the first time in weeks! A proud erection showed my wife that I adored her with all my being.

She chirped, all full of joy, "I see your little soldier of steel didn't suffer, because of his silver armor, Dean dear... I was worried because so much fake news claims that the penis tends to shrink!"

I was trying to resist the temptation to jerk off there in the kitchen. Immediately. But she was turned around and if I had cum, I would have covered her back, completely missing the target bullseye (i.e., her perfect belly button).

I gritted my teeth and tried to distract myself.

Belly Bulleye, the Graceful Navel in the Castle (giggle) where my Oral... Helpful for her Fertile Vulval... would be the material for a Shakespearean sonnet. Think of a Rhyme, Dean... think of a Rhyme for the word "Canada," Dean...

"Can I write you a sonnet?"

"Not now, Dean dear. I like to see you focused -- on me!"

"Can I at least challenge the fake news? As far as I know, genitals are very elastic, and just as the vulva recovers its shape even after childbirth, so I would be inclined to believe that the penis...um..."

Britney's fingers had firmly grasped my hard cock.

Why did Mother Nature give us dicks?

Because that's how women know what to hold on to when they want to lead us. It's like a natural leash, a standard endowment. My wife knew what effect it had on me when she led me by pulling me by the cock: either inside the cage (i.e., all the time) or outside, as was the case today in an exceptional way.

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Chapter 2. "All in the golden afternoon: yet, what can one poor man avail against three tongues together?" (L. Carroll, "Alice in Wonderland," 1865).

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The sun was low on the horizon.

Sunset was the worst time to be in the garden.

The low hedge did not prevent passersby from watching what the two of us were doing. And these days Britney had explicitly told many people (almost always keyholder wives of caged husbands) that they could stop by and pay a visit even unannounced.

Britney, naked, lay down on the chaise longue and told me that shortly she would be masturbating with the magic wand...talking to me, and touching my knees with her toes, she informed me that she was standing in front of me with her thighs open.

I was blindfolded, a very rare thing in our lifestyle.

She is aware that I get aroused mostly by looking with my eyes, and

In that way, he is reassured of her position: it will be enough to cum in a straight line to cover her navel with cum!

And usually, I have to carry out orders or perform chores, errands, or other services, so I must have my eyes wide shut.

But that day was exceptional and out of the ordinary in all directions.

I was in total darkness, but I knew that others could see me because the sun had not yet set: the heat on my skin assured me of that for sure. The side effect was that this way I was forced to masturbate in the garden, exposed to the prying eyes of all the passers-by (whom I could not see but whose footsteps I could hear on the damp sand of the path beyond the low hedge).

Suddenly I heard a voice full of glee. It was Charlotte!

The voice was getting closer. I was trying to jerk myself to flood my wife's belly button, but Charlotte rested a hand on my shoulder and interrupted me, in the bored voice of a lady paying a visit for five o'clock tea: "I'm so sorry to interrupt you, spouse of my dear recent Host bride, but I'm very thirsty, and she's lying comfortably on the chaiselongue with her thighs open and a smile of blissful bliss.

You wouldn't mind interrupting what you're doing for a moment and walking over to the table to get me a glass of water, pretty please?"

I gritted my teeth to keep from answering.

It was obvious that this was all part of a plan to torture me.

Charlotte could very well have come in for a glass of water; we were now very close.

Moreover, it was clear that I was wearing a blind mask and that every step would cost me effort and distraction from what I was doing!

More importantly, I would lose contact with my wife's toes, which in a way, were the guarantee that my cannon was pointing straight at the target!

But the request had been precise and timely. I was on the verge of cumming, and perhaps Charlotte, cruel as she is, had waited to hear my breathing become labored to interrupt me at the very last moment.

So be it. Charlotte's sharp tongue can give me orders, and she precisely asked me for a pitcher of water.

Humiliation consists precisely in interrupting something important to me for the sake of something that is not important to her or any of the women present.

Damn! So I lose contact with Britney's feet, and then I won't know what direction to move in! How can I disobey such a precise order?

My wife saw my hesitation. I had stopped the hasty motion of my hand, and my cock stood out uselessly against the thin air without being able to find a way to orgasm.

Full of affection and understanding, my sweet Britney wanted to help me. "Dean dear, the chain is like a double-edged sword. It represents both restraint and safety. If you tense the chain with your hands, it will indicate a straight line for you to walk to the table... where you will find many plastic cups already filled with water."

Of course. It was all part of the plan, and the chain would lead me right to where the already full glasses were. Then I wouldn't have made a mess pouring water as a blind man.

I was proud of how devious my gentle Femdom was.

Slow steps toward the table, holding the chain taut with two hands. The cock was also tense.

I picked up a plastic cup. Holding the glass with two fingers I tried to return to exactly where I was before--but I heard my wife's voice slightly to the left, waving goodbye to Charlotte.

It was undoubtedly a clue for me to help me find her blind.

Charlotte took the glass from my hands, thanked me, drank, and immediately left. I heard the voice in the distance waving goodbye.

We were alone, me standing erect and Britney spread-eagled on the chaise longue.

Charlotte's departure was a relief to me, for she was the most cruel and devilish of my wife's friends.

I would have wanted to jack off right away and submerge my wife's tummy with a flood of cum, but I was not sure of her geographical location. Maybe I was a few degrees off target, and I couldn't risk wasting my shot.

Then I heard a young, graceful voice, which let me know that Greta had arrived for a visit. Greta was a naturist girl we had met at the resort. She had a boyfriend, but he did not approve of naturism and might not be pleased to know that Greta was very intrigued by our lifestyle.

Until now, Greta had always seen me caged, and she probably thought I had a small penis. Come to think of it, all the people at the resort have always seen me caged by the padlock.

They probably all thought I was micro-domed.

That's not true: I have to admit that when flaccid, my penis looks very short, but when erect, it's perfectly average [SPOILER: two years later, I would become the father of two magnificent children, just by penetrating Britney's vagina for weeks: but that's another story].

Greta had probably seen many naked penises in naturist villages, and she did not seem intimidated, at least, judging by the tone of her voice. I could hear her talking to my wife.

"Be my guest, Greta, ask my husband to bring you a glass of water..."

"Oh, but I am ashamed! I happened to be passing by, and I am very thirsty, but I am so sorry to be on the side of those who torture him..."

"Don't be shy, sweetheart! My husband loves to make himself useful. It makes him feel part of the group, in a holistic symbiosis with the Whole. You can't see it now but he's smiling under that cuio mask."

Then, raising her voice slightly to be heard by me, Britney asked, "Are you smiling under the mask, Dean dear? Wave hello, to greet our dear Greta who is so thirsty!"

I wiggled my fingers as gracefully as I could.

A naked man, with a hard cock, a collar, and a chain, is not such a dignified image. But I was trying to make it as untraumatic as possible.

Our gestures had probably encouraged Greta, because without hesitation she said to me, "Dean! I order you to bring me a glass of water now!"

I turned and walked back toward the table, using the chain as a reference in the path. Behind me, I heard my wife's voice: "See, Greta? You are a natural."

"I'm usually a naturist."

"The two are not contradictory. Did you see how his penis jerked when you said the verb 'order'? Men like it. I mean: maybe they don't like it in the workplace or everyday life, but they like it in sex sessions... or at least, my husband likes it."

"I see."

I returned walking slowly with the plastic cup in my hand.

I was not sure of my wife's position, but Greta came toward me, patted my elbow, and said, "I am here," and she took the glass.

Then she helped me position myself right in front of my wife. Again Britney touched my knees with her toes: this meant that the bullseye bully was in range.

The ballistics, the range-I could smell my wife's pussy.

Greta had the voice of a shy little girl (even though she was of age) and asked Britney, "You know your husband has a nice cock? I have seen many of them, in naturist camps, but this one is nice. Proportionate, hard, and with a nice raised vein. What do you say, Britney? Can I lean my lips in to give a sororal kiss? Like a little sister greeting her big brother?" Greta's voice was devoid of any malice. But only my ears understood, my cock did not, quivering in anticipation.

"Yeah sure, you can always give a brotherly kiss," my wife said. My wife's voice was full of mischief and innuendo!

Completely blind, I waited for the lips that descended to kiss the purple kno.

I thought, "I can't cum right now! It would not be dignified, indeed, it would be outrageous to facial this innocent girl, and I would lose my target, which remains the belly button!"

Had she been an experienced and cruel keyholder like Charlotte, I imagine she would have lingered for a long time, letting the skin of my cock feel the hot breath of her lips before pressing her soft flesh over the hard flesh of me.

But Greta was a gentle, shy girl; she leaned in for a quick kiss like a younger sister, without her tongue. Immediately afterward she stood up, not out of fear but out of respect.

Greta understood that I was very tense and decided to pull away, "Thank you, Dean! Thank you, Brit! I'm going to watch the sunset, and for the record, I'm turning my back now even though I'm naked, you'd only see my back and ass cheeks, and now I'm walking to leave, I'll leave you two alone, bye!"

I would hear Greta's footsteps on the wet sand path. Her voice was drifting away, without any doubt. The image formed clearly in my mind, though my eyes were blinded. Greta's firm buttocks, and that gap between her slim thighs... OMG how much I wanted to cum at that moment...

Had the girl put me in the right position? Could I hit the target even though I was blind, or would a few degrees to the left prevent me from flooding her tummy?

I was slightly crooked, and my wife wanted to help me once again. The toes of my right foot were in contact with my knee, but my left foot was out of reach. I turned slowly, like a blind man, and finally, both of her feet rested firmly on my knees.

I could hear Britney moaning beneath me-she was probably masturbating, her thighs spread like a frog, her pussy just waiting to be flooded by my flood...

I thought, "If no one interrupts me now I'm going to cover my wife with cum..." and grabbed my cock with my hand to jerk myself off.

But at that moment the toes came off the contact, and on my leg, I felt a strange tissue rubbing.

Before I could cum, I was interrupted by a mewing voice.

"Purr, purr, this kitty's thirsty too, what'll you buy me to drink, Butler Dean?"

It was the voice of Fiona the Vixen!

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Chapter 3 A Tale of a Tail: a tongue, a voice, a blowjob.

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With eyes blinded in the dark, I was reminded of the image I had seen the first night, during Welcome Cocktail. Frank and Fiona: a rare couple who alternated the role of Dominant and Submissive depending on the day. When Fiona was the submissive, her husband forced her to walk on all fours, with a foxtail stuck in her rosebud with an anal plug. He led her on a leash and she obeyed like a little dog (or more accurately, like a bitch in heat).

I couldn't see if the husband was there too.

Was the husband there, and was I standing with my cock erect in front of the lips of his submissive wife?

Or was the husband not there, and Fiona was dominant today, who knew? Maybe at that moment, the husband was in his bedroom, hanging from a St. Andrew's cross, while Fiona went around the resort looking for hard cocks?

I tried to discern among the voices if I was hearing that of Fiona's husband. But to no avail. If he was present, I could not know: perhaps he was gagged? I don't know.

The agreements with my wife are about no gay acts. If a caged husband looks at me while I'm walking, there's nothing I can do about it.

But if a caged husband looks at me while Fiona is on all fours in front of my hard cock?

I didn't know how to act.

I heard my wife's voice say, "Go ahead, Fiona, Dean has always liked red-haired bitches...if you were waiting for my permission, here's my permission, you can lick his cock and suck it, and you can also swallow all the cum he'll want to give you...it's been weeks straight since I've ever allowed him to cum, so, get ready for a flood, ha, ha!"

Below me, the fox's tail kept rubbing against my swollen testicles.

Sure enough, Fiona was enjoying teasing me by swaying her ass back and forth.

"Be Britney, I've always wondered why you two are so against cuckolding. But maybe if I show you how happy Dean is to cum down another woman's throat...who knows, maybe I can change your minds! And I'm so thirsty today--but not for water, let's understand!"

"You can do anything you want, Fiona, dear. But Dean is not as free. The rules were clear: today he had to cover my belly button with semen. If all his cum is swallowed by your skillful mouth, you get your prize, but he gets severe punishments."

"Ah, you mean sincerely? OMG, but this is a fantastic incentive to give your best! Have I ever told you my secret trick for an unparalleled blowjob? Up on the mouth top!"

"Wait, what?"

"Oh, Brit, how many more things you have to learn before you are a perfect little wife! The root of every gesture of love is always in the Christmas Carol, even if saying it on a sunny Mediterranean beach may seem incongruous.

Repeat after me: Up on the housetop, reindeer pause (and I heard a pause: perhaps Fiona was pointing her finger to the ceiling of the palate?) out jumps good old Santa Claus!

Down through the chimney with lots of... sperm boys (and here Fiona was treading with an intensity that sperm would go down the throat like a chimney) all for the little ones, the good old sperm boys! Oh, who wouldn't CUM? (I felt like the carol read "go!" but Fiona insisted it was "cum")