Chaste Honeymoons Keepsakes

Chaste Honeymoon's Keepsakes

The most beautiful framed memories of a newly married couple.

### Disclaimer. Most of the Vanilla couples' memories are about the Wedding Day and the Honeymoon's many sex sessions.

Instead, Britney and Dean chose by mutual agreement that she was the Keyholder of his enforced chastity, with total authority over granting or denying penile erections. They have had two children, and have been together for decades, but their memories differ from those of Vanilla couples. In particular, most of the details allude to a joke made during the Chaste Honeymoon, which you can read about here: https://www.literotica.com/series/se/here-comes-the-bride-only

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

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Chapter 1. Wake up.

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It was a Wednesday morning. My wife Britney was on a business trip, and I woke up with the metal bars clutching the flesh of my penis, as always.

It had been almost thirty years now that every morning my cock woke up a prisoner of a padlocked metal cage. Usually, I nourish some hopes of an unexpected and undeserved release. But not that morning, for sure, because Keyholder was on the road, far away.

The one thing I knew would happen was that I would receive teasing and mocking messages from her.

It was the teasing way she showed me every day how often she thought of me. Not like some vanilla wives, who play the Silent Treatment by imagining they are creating pain for the victim whom they exhibit to Ignore (don't they know, poor women, that if you leave a man alone, you give him a great gift!).

Sometimes the message contained a picture of her: once he had sent me a picture of her pussy with her fingers in it, taken at night on a plane over the Atlantic! Other times the photo showed the key hanging from her necklace, in the middle of her boobs: sometimes it showed an erect nipple or her bare toes.

Other times the message contained a request. "Send me a picture of your imprisoned cock, next to something blue" or "strip naked and take a picture in front of the mirror."

Often the message was just a sequence of emoticons. She liked to create little charades to guess. Some were very simple: Woman walking, Padlock closed, Smile.

Man Lying in Bed, Closed Padlock, Chains, three icons of Women Dancing in a Red Dress (one blonde, one black, and one red): easy, she'll go out with friends while I'll be handcuffed to the bed spread eagle.

A Knight, a Sorceress, Laughter, Lake: this meant "Thinking of my husband Dean the Paladin, my White Knight in shining armor, to me seems to be like a cruel witch: thinking of your frustration, my pussy gets wet as a puddle and my smile bursts into a laugh of joy."

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I looked on the shelf in the center of the large closet in front of our double bed.

Like all Vanilla couples, we had our Keepsake: The most beautiful framed memories of a newly married couple.

Ours were slightly different.

There was a large photo album, padlocked shut, and a glass jar with a handful of sand from the tiny island in Croatia where we had gone on Honeymoon.

But the photos were not everyone else's usual photographs and the sand was not just sand. And the RSVP envelope did not contain the usual boring invitation.

Everyone keeps an envelope with a wedding invitation: RSVP, one of the few French acronyms used everywhere by English speakers. Delphine explained how to pronounce it with the very rounded R: "Repondez S'il Vous Plait."

The store near the Resort Reception had a printer that allowed us to choose a very fancy font, adding a touch of sophistication.

The contents, however, were not as fancy.

It was the envelope with which the girls had invited themselves to see "Dean the Paladin half-dressed as a full bride," and "Brit the Brat full-dressed as a half-groom."

Even the use of capitals and lowercase letters had been studied down to the smallest detail. "Britney" was written Bold, because she earned a bolder paycheck.

"Dean" was spelled Italicized, as if some Paladin in shining silver armor was forced to remain bowed all the time under his Queen in an eternal courtsey, even in the printed letters.

Harmony even through lack of symmetry.

Balance of two complementary souls.

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Together with their friends (but far from their lovely families).

BRITNEY the BRAT

fully dressed as a half-groom

and

Dean the Paladin

half-dressed as a full bride

invite you to join them in celebrating their union

as they exchange vows of

HER

love and

HIS

devotion

on the evening of Sunday, the fifteenth of the Month

at five o'clock in the afternoon.

***

The Grand Suite Garden Mansion

2, Celebration Path on the Wet Sand

The Tiny Island Naturist Resort, Croatia (HR).

***

Reception to follow, served by

a quiet French Maid

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We kindly request the Pleasure of your company

as we embark on this beautiful journey together.

Kindly RSVP by noon.

The italicized letters were a hint to allude to a detail that would not have surprised any of the girls: the mute French Maid would be me, once again. The girls liked giving me orders and being served, and I liked making them happy.

There was no sadism or definite intention to bump me. Well, occasionally the caresses on my exposed blue balls were less gentle than expected, but I imagine every French Maid happened to be harassed by some guest who had drunk a glass of champagne at a wedding dinner.

On the back, it was specified:

This is not open +1: each woman will come alone (if you know what I mean), like in the music "Here Comes the Bride [Alone]."

You are cordially invited to celebrate the union. This intimate occasion honors the love shared between the couple, and we kindly ask that each woman attends solo, as the only couple present will be the newlyweds themselves.

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I know other details had made some of the girls at the resort smile, sneer, or giggle, but the detail that appealed to me was the thought of a long Journey Together.

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Chapter 2: Two Monogamists.

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Looking back on my whole life: I have always been monogamous.

Once upon a time, one of the girls asked my wife, "But do you two really think it's okay to be monogamous? Wouldn't it be more fun, and generally more in keeping with Human nature, for each of you to have sex with other people outside of marriage?"

Britney smiled without laughing because she was very serious. "I believe deeply in the importance of being monogamous... for two people to have sex very often and never for one of them to feel marginalized because of the other's laziness. Do you know how many women I have listened to complain that their husband was playing Victim because he wanted to have sex much more often than his wife? Do you know how many divorces are caused by that? Do you know how many wives force their husbands into a chastity that is only mentally forced, even though there are no bars around his penis?"

The friend was stunned.

Britney continued without interrupting. "My Dean wants to be monogamous. He would have dozens of opportunities to cheat on me, with one of the many girls who know our secret. All he would need to do is pick up the spare key and fuck one of my cousins, my sister, or one of my colleagues. They all know that he is kind and strong and never tired.

Yet, he has never done that. I tease him whenever I feel like it, and he is always excited to see me, to hear my heeled footsteps, to smell my perfume.

Trust me, my friend: if a husband wants to cheat on you, it's easy. A prostitute can be found everywhere: the Bible talks about it, ancient Greek and Roman mythologies talk about it, and the history of colonialism talks about it.

My Dean controls all our money: do you think if he wanted to, he couldn't withdraw the cash needed to convince a prostitute to let him fuck her pussy?"

The friend was stunned, and astonishment was painted on her face. "I thought the Power Exchange was total between the two of you-I thought it was 100% FLR!"

"No, he handles the finances. Like an old-time housewife. Like my grandmother did sixty years ago. But the real head of the house was my grandmother: my grandfather worked and earned, but it was my grandmother who decided everything.

And maybe--maybe even between the two of us, I delude myself to decide, but this perversion he asked for. I am happy about it, and from it, I received numerous intense orgasms, but it was him.

I am not saying that it happens that way in every couple. Quite the contrary: I think it is very rare.

Two monogamous people, a husband who never masturbates and never gives in to cheating ever.

Yes, I think the two of us are very rare."

From above, she turned to me.

"What do you say, Dean dear? I know it's not good manners to talk with your mouth full, but if you agree, make a hand sign!"

I was lying down and tied spread eagle while my wife enjoyed a long facesitting session. Sometimes she did it to reach orgasm, other times just to relax. She knew that the smell and taste of her vagina drove me crazy--and she never allowed me to wash afterward, so I would be left with the smell on my lip and nose for hours, my cock always tensing in frustration.

Chapter 3: a little sealed jar of sand.

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The jar with sand and cake crumbs. It was sealed, and the crumbs were now dry: more like nuts and almonds, and to my ears echoed the girls' dad jokes: "We drive you nuts," and "The jar can nuts, you don't!" Some girl was drunk, maybe.

I wasn't, because I hadn't drunk anything at all. It appears very difficult to drink while wearing a penis-shaped silicone gag that presses your tongue against your jaw!

Britney had not been drinking either. She was holding a flute of pink champagne, but the liquid was still at the same level, and her lipstick had not smeared the rim of the crystal. It was other edges that would have been soiled by Britney's lips, but not during that fake wedding.

So many memories, resting on top of one shelf!

Each time I wonder: but was it just me?

How many men don't make love on their wedding night? Because of tiredness, drunkenness, or because the wife really cheats on them with his Best Man, or with her FBFF (Female Best Friend Forever)?

Was it only me during the Honeymoon that I ejaculated far less than I would have liked, or was I deluding myself that it would happen? How many other men got married, and then during the Honeymoon had to find out that the bride was tired, had a headache, had dysentery (Montezuma's Curse does not even forgive brides!), was too hot, too cold, too sleepy?

I at least know that I did not ejaculate because the two of us agreed.

But I have heard tales of disappointed husbands who had been tricked and manipulated by women who had the body of an adult, and the mind as childlike as a toddler. Whimsical, whimsical brides who demanded to wake up at 4 a.m. to see the sunrise that is so romantic, and then slept all day on one pretext or another.

In the small jar was island sand mixed with dried hazelnut crumbs. The jar was sealed. No one could have understood why the two of us were so fond of that small glass object.

It contained the crumbs that had fallen from my wife's pussy while I was licking it in front of the girls.

Chapter 4: "Heat your cake, Dean dear..."

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They took away my gag, only to humiliate me even more.

Charlotte said, "It's tradition for newlyweds to eat a piece of cake!"

For a moment I was afraid they were going to shove the cake in my face like in a 1930s comedy. I wouldn't have minded the humiliation, only the waste of good food.

But then I realized that cake in the face is only a problem for brides who have spent hundreds of dollars on hairdo and makeup: I was a man without even lipstick, if they had thrown a dozen cakes in my face, I would have washed myself with water!

The girls' game was another, and all planned to see me suffer devoutly inside my frustrating cage.

Britney took a portion of cake with her spoon and put it near my mouth.

I still had my arms cuffed behind my back and could not bring my hands near the sweet food.

"Kneel, Dean." My wife ordered me in a melodious but firm voice.

She smiled as she slowly unbuckled the waistband of men's pants. Dark linen pants, fit for a groom.

In front of the other women, Britney looked like a man, with a man's jacket (not covering her firm bare boobs underneath), and pants tangled around her ankles. I knew she had chosen to go Commando, but the girls might not have noticed.

Kneeling in front of my woman dressed as a man, I looked like a damsel in distress, my wrists tied behind a long white wedding dress, which covered my back but left my imprisoned genitals exposed.

The key dangled from her necklace: so close, yet so far away!

She could see that my eyes were staring at the key between my bare nipples, and she gently scolded me. "No, Dean dear, lower your eyes.

Your portion of the cake is here, concentrate.

The key must not distract you in this radiant moment when you can kiss your newlywed's lips.

I want your lips to eat the cake directly from my lips, and meanwhile, I want my mouth free to drink champagne and kiss my bridesmaids!

And therefore, you stay on your knees, because Mother Nature has provided me with two sets of lips, ha, ha!

Now come on, get started!

Get busy, chop chop! "

As the girls laughed, Britney smeared my portion of Nunziale cake on the shaved mound of her. With her finger, she pushed some nuts inside her vagina. My job was to go after them with my tongue!

"While we sip champagne, you stay on your knees, Dean."

Fiona, who had officiated at the mock wedding, had now walked around the two of us and looked curiously at the long skirt that covered my ankles at that moment.

The redhead had a little joke in mind. "You know Britney, I'm a fan of foxtails stuck inside my anus with a butt plug.

Everybody knows that!

But I was wondering if this sweet bride who is eating her portion of the competence cake is wearing an anal plug at this very moment."

"Ha! Sounds like a mystery worthy of a thorough inspection! What do you say Dean dear, can we permit Fiona to check it out? She is a dear friend and is always kind to you..."

I nodded, as I was rooting like a wild boar trying to catch with my tongue all the nuts she had stuck in her vagina.

Fiona bent down to pick up the fabric of my skirt. I felt the fabric stretch and then felt Fiona's hands near my wrists.

What is the redhead doing?

She was tucking the satin train of my skirt between my forearms. This way, my ass cheeks were exposed at the back, as were my genitals at the front! And all the women could clearly see the emerald green stone anal plug my wife had ordered me to bury inside my anus.

"Uh, how cute Dean looks today! He looks just like a newlywed!"

In a low voice, Delphine murmured, "Mariage pluvieux, mariage heureux!"

"Huh? What did you say?"

The French girl mimicked rain with her fingers, after dipping her fingers in champagne.

Charlotte had an epiphany. "Wet bride, lucky bride! I know this proverb! But I thought it was an omen against vaginal dryness, an affliction from which our Britney does not suffer. But I understand that in French it refers to rain. Do you want us women to buy Dean's back and head with our Golden Rain?"

WHAT!!!

I was so embarrassed! This subject had never been negotiated and had never even been mentioned in our Contract, and we had never even talked about it!

Well, sure, I knew what it was, and she knew what it was too, but I didn't... I didn't...

Maybe I should have talked, but it's not good manners to talk with your mouth full...

I hesitated...

But.

Britney did not hesitate.

"No, girls..." she said, chasing that idea away with a careless gesture of her hand like a baroness giving her butler license to retire. "... Golden Rain is not part of my desires for today, and I still have many tasks for this elegant scented bride to perform. Perhaps there will be a Golden Rain session in the future, but today I need to smell only refined scents: after all, it is my Wedding, albeit a Fake one! The one that is real, however, is this cake, which is not Fake but is Cake.

Creampie is also a cake! Anyway, can we at least give him some gentle spanking on these two white cheeks? They appear so cute!"

"All right - agreed on Britney - but not too hard, I wouldn't want him to bite my lips in pain!"

Giggling and chuckling, Charlotte and Trixie took turns spanking my buttocks, while Fiona was content to hold up the veil. I know because I could hear the voices of the two of them counting the strokes and cheering each other on.

There is this famous saying, "Behind every happy man there is a strict woman with a dog and a strap-on dildo"...or something along those lines, I can't quite recall...

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Chapter 5: "Where there is a whip (crack!) there is a way."

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Charlotte was carrying a velvet whip. It was just a sex toy, not a real instrument of torture: and she kept it inside one of those baguette bags that women wear at weddings!

I heard Charlotte's voice say, with gentle sarcasm, "Don't pretend it doesn't turn you on, Dean. I can totally see by the way you move that you like it when a woman whips your butt."

It was true that the penis was hardening, even though the bars prevented it from assuming an upright position. My cock continued to have its head bent in a forced bow, or perhaps courtesy feminine, which would be a more appropriate word for my bridal dress.

Britney knew that I would accept spanking and even whipping. When she proposed this Fake Wedding as a play session, I told her sincerely, "I see in your eyes that you are full of joy, and that is enough for me. Even if the theme of the party were to whip your hubby Dean for hours, I would agree to it." And indeed that happened.

Alternating with Charlotte, Trixie was also hitting me with the velvet whip. She had smaller hands and a more precise wrist, I am convinced that the rare lashings that struck my testicles were premeditated and directed by precise aiming: she, laughing, apologized, but Britney did not say stop, nor did I use a safe word, so the lashing continued.

"Where there is a whip (crack!) there is a way."

Crack!

Crack again!

The single blows on the testicles became more frequent.

Then Trixie tired, and Charlotte preferred to focus on my cheeks.

"Don't cum, Dean dear! I know many men forced into a chastity device cum when they are whipped, but you must resist!" said my wife, in a stern voice.

I gritted my teeth and, I don't know how, managed to avoid ejaculating: even though a large drop of precum was forming from the tip looking toward the floor.

Britney kicked off the fine black-heeled sandals that matched the Groom's dress, and with her bare toes, she gently squeezed my aching testicles.

The drop of precum slipped silently onto the skin of the back of her bare foot as I grunted trying not to cum.

She smiled mischievously at me and said, "You know what the rules are for your mess, Dean dear. Every single drop of semen that comes out of your captive penis..."

"...I will have to swallow it. Yes, I know."

It wasn't really semen, it was just precum. But I knew she wanted to prove a point to the girls, so I licked the back of her foot that she had brought close to my chin.

She rested a hand on my head. She wanted me to swallow. It was humiliating, but also arousing. With a quick kiss on the foot, I swallowed all the precum, making her skin immaculate.