Gentle Resort: Husband-Free Day

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Gentle Resort: Husband-Free day.

Femdom wives confess the arousal caused by caged cock.

### Disclaimer.

The place where the story takes place, and some of the characters, have already been mentioned in a previous tale of mine (https://.com/s/chastity-resort-a-gentle-turn), but the present text is completely autonomous and there is no need to read a prequel.

You only need to know three things: there is a Resort on an island in Croatia; in which husband and wife couples stay (no children allowed); all the men on the island (including the Resort workers) wear a chastity cage by their own free will. Finally: everyone (men, women, and readers) came here to have fun and be happy.

English is not my mother tongue, please forgive the mistakes and focus on the ideas.###

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0 – Prologue

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My wife Geena swayed, sitting with her pussy on my mouth and her rosebud pressed against my nose. She was deciding the rhythm and depth of the licks, moving her pelvis up and down. With one hand, she stroked my balls (I am her rightful husband, Ludwig called Ludo), which protruded naked and vulnerable under the metal ring of the chastity cage.

She gently squeezed his balls. “Your two sloppy bags are deep blue today, darling, would you like it if I allowed you to cum?”

“OMG yes! Yes, Gineke, I beg you….”

“No! Ha, ha! Oh, how it turns me on to hear the desperation in your voice, Ludo… And to see your cock strained against the metal bars of your cage… OMG! Lick! Suck! I’m coming! I’m coming! Aaahh!”

My wife was too excited. Between moans and yelling she reached an intense orgasm, like the many she had already had on that small Croatian island. With impetus, she lay on top of me, burying my male body under her own, heedless of the excitement that even the accidental touch of an erect nipple would have given me.

In the large mirror that covered the wall of the bed, I saw that thought was enough to light up her face, despite the fatigue of orgasm. With a coquettish, mischievous smile, she continued to caress my skin between the bars of my cage.

Then she said: “My love, do you know what turns me on the most?”

“What!” grunted I, who no longer had the strength to speak, after licking and eating eagerly her pussy for hours.

Regardless of the muscular difficulties of her husband’s mouth, she continued smiling “The thing that turns me on the most is knowing that after I have had my orgasm, I don’t have to reciprocate. On the contrary: you have really entrusted me with the task of not making you cum too frequently. Now get up, and cuddle me: I want you to be the Big Spoon around my back, and I want to feel the cage stuck in the middle of the cleft of my buttocks… that same valley, which you are not allowed to enter. Will you do it for me, my love?” she said, pretending to be sullen.

I said nothing but followed orders, albeit with much effort, because my wrists were handcuffed behind my back and every movement required effort and coordination. The handcuffs were two old soft leather manacles, and she would often leave them on me all night without them leaving bruises: I was used to them and could fall asleep (the real problem for me was not the bones in my wrists, but the boner fighting inside the cage).

I was too tired to talk and we both knew what it would mean: if I had the strength, I would have said “there is nothing more exciting than seeing my woman having an orgasm”.

I lay down behind my wife. I crawled around her back and legs with my shoulders and thighs. Moving my pelvis I pushed the cage into the cleft of her buttocks: so close, yet so far from my life’s purpose.

She smiled. Geena was profoundly happy. She fell asleep immediately, without having to work hand or mouth to make me cum, without even thinking whether her husband was in pain or struggling with desire.

It took me a long time before I fell asleep.

I already knew, from what the Croatian coordinator Milka had said yesterday, that the next morning we would have another wonderful day at the Chastity Resort.

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Chapter 1. Preparing for tomorrow morning’s meeting.

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Last night we had that announcement. The meeting was coming to a close. Preparing to come down from the stage, the coordinator, Milka, picked up the papers scattered on the speaker’s lectern and leaned back on her high heels to turn off the projector, then as if overthinking said, “Uh. I almost forgot… what a fool I am…” and turned her female listeners a sarcastic smile. Some women already knew what she was about to announce, others were surprised, but none so much as the men.

“Tomorrow morning we will have the HFM: Husband-Free Meeting. Eh, I know, ladies: unfortunately, the name is misleading and would almost seem to suggest a release to all these handsome husbands, all free on the same day! No, that was one of the messages we sent you during the email booking, no surprises there.

But, ha, ha! Husband-free is different from Free marmaris escort Husbands! Let those gorillas go free? Haw… [Milka chased that hypothesis away, with a wave of her hand] Absolutely not: can you imagine the Testosterone Storm, the comparisons, and the filth, if we keyholders allowed this pack of savages to congregate around a barbecue of rare steaks while burping and talking about Sports while drinking beer and making degrading judgments about the bodies of famous actresses, or the girls in the Resort? Ah, no, not really, not while I’m working here.”

All the wives giggled. The husbands remained fairly quiet: perhaps only Vincenzo (who was from Verona, the city of Romeo and Juliet) had deluded himself that there might be a day dedicated to freeing their husbands.

Milka waited for the girls to regain their composure and then added: “I cannot rule out the possibility that sooner or later, two keyholders might decide, by mutual agreement and with the consent of their husbands, to get together in a flat for a foursome: with or without their tiny cages. It was clearly stated in the reservation that this Resort is not for swinging, nor is it for forcing your husbands into reluctant homosexual relations: but there is nothing to prevent two women from deciding to tease and denial their husbands caged in the same room (if the women feel they are in the right mood for it).

You already know that, personally, I am not in favor of cuckolding, but you are all free and consenting adults, and what you do in your rooms in the resort is none of my business. I advise against it because of the psychological consequences, but you take your choices calmly.”

Milka breathed deeply before the next announcement.

No one of the caged men dared to breathe.

Milka chose her sweetest voice: “The HF/Husband-Free Meeting means that tomorrow morning, from 10 a.m. to noon, we women will be here in the hall, but the husbands will not be here. Each of you can decide how to dispose of your husband, elsewhere. Think about it this evening at dinner, tonight in bed, or tomorrow morning at breakfast. The resort offers plenty of recreation opportunities.

I would be a bad coordinator if I left it to you to decide with total carte blanche, without even a couple of hints about the most frequent decisions here at the Resort.

The most frequent choices are three: Eagle, Hawk, and Cat.

EAGLE, as you will all have realized, consists of tying your husband’s wrists and ankles in the spread eagle position. Earphones will continue to play loudly the audio of the porn films you have selected for him on the big screen in front of the bed; often with an anal plug stuck in for prostate stimulation. Even if he closes his eyes (which, if he were a good and obedient husband, he should never do) he will still hear the moans and orgasms that are denied to him: and if a wife knows her husband well, she knows which categories of porn will most likely make his cock strain inside the cage.

The main flaw in this choice is that he will be alone, tied up, for almost two hours. Nobody talks about it, but what if a person has to pee or poo? I am not aware that any of you girls care to see the sheet soiled by their mess. If your husband is up to it and is used to resisting alone, it is a good solution; otherwise, there are many other ideas.

HAWK means that you, as a good loving wife, will allow him to go to our topless bar and drink a soft cocktail with a straw. The straw will be mandatory because at the Topless Bar the males may only enter handcuffed with their wrists (and elbows) behind their backs.

Our barmaids are all experts in extreme teasing (much more so than normal waitresses in normal bars) and, if his wife has allowed it (even just a post-it note stuck to the cage will suffice), they will also be able to feed him small portions of food with their fingers or tits: a warm sausage of minced meat, slipped into his mouth with their fingers, and mayonnaise to lick directly from the nipple, would give even a hermit saint an erection.

The name ‘hawk’ comes from that special hawk’s eye of males, that will arouse your husbands for two hours straight, even in the presence of other caged men.

Each one will be allowed to converse with the barmaids, but will not be allowed to talk to the other men. This way we avoid them talking nonsense about stupid things like sports teams or fast cars. They must spend two hours continuously teasing, never being distracted by others talk.

Cat sounds the easiest, like some fat little tiger sleeping near his food.

Obviously not.

CAT’s meaning is, of course for some of us, the Cat-o’-nine-tails. Personally, I never allow anyone else to whip my husband, even for fun: it is an activity the two of us do, but only the two of us. However, over the years, we have found that many men want to be whipped even if it is softly, gently, with special toys (not with the horsewhip that carriage drivers were using marmaris escort bayan in past centuries). If one of you girls explicitly requests it, the resort can send a topless barmaid to your flat. I know that some women do not like whipping their husbands, even for fun: this is not my case, but I can understand the existence of trauma, taboos, and ancestral prohibitions.

Theoretically, I could advise you to at least taste it… you might discover that (in the framework of a consensual, serene, and affectionate relationship) the act of whipping can give pleasure to the flogger as well as to the victim. But for tomorrow morning, you don’t have to make any special effort: the Resort only asks that you hang your husband’s arms from the big hook in the middle of the ceiling, naked and wearing his locked cage, and for two hours one of our barmaids will whip him relentlessly.

Again, if you want, you can leave a post-it note in which, generously, you as wife and keyholder will (perhaps) agree to small moments of relief. For example, write that he can ask for a glass of water, which he can only drink after having licked and sucked his torturer’s nipples for a long time. [Milka smiled devilishly] Under normal conditions, this is a price many men would gladly pay, but in this case, it would be an addition to the tension of the cock locked by the bars of the cage.

Some female customers, in recent weeks, have asked to kick their husbands’ hanging testicles. In general, the resort prefers to avoid employees being involved in activities that could, theoretically, result in prolonged pain and court cases for beatings and the like. Our whip is a toy, a knee in the balls could look like an assault. I have nothing against a wife and husband playing together, but I must warn you that resort employees might respond negatively to requests for ballbusting.

There are many other alternatives besides these three main options. You women can decide what you want. You think what you like best: you can tie them to a tree, or send them out to sunbathe (although I do not recommend this for those with very sensitive skin, like Erich the Red).”

Everyone laughed.

The men laughed out of nervousness, all around me. I was thinking about what my sweet Gineke would suggest.

The women laughed because each was already planning how to torture her husband for two hours, despite her own physical absence from the torture site.

Some of the girls had their mouths contorted into a grimace of pleasure, and their eyes twinkling.

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Chapter 2 breakfast (from my wife Geena’s point of view).

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[POV Geena. From here on, the narrative continues according to the point of view of Ludo’s Dutch wife, Geena].

My husband was still asleep when I woke up.

In his sleep, he had rolled far away and I looked at him with eyes full of adoration.

I got up. I took the phone and locked myself in the bathroom. I wrote to the reception desk that we would like breakfast in our room: two black espresso coffees, to wake us up, and a number of other things I had seen on the menu. There were also a few options that could be added to the order. Some seemed unsuitable for the two of us: other options seemed amusing. I added some options with an amused smile. Breakfast was to be delivered to flat 3-A, after the wet sandy path by the reed beds, at 8 o’clock sharp.

After my time in the bathroom, I went back to my husband. I had slept naked for my own comfort, but that morning I would wear something nice, just to emphasize my freedom: I could choose whether to dress or not, he on the other hand was a slave, a prisoner. This idea gave me an enormous feeling of power. Oh, don’t worry, reader: I have a clear sense of what my real power is in my work, and at 50 I must say that I am quite satisfied. But I am aware that I am a privileged woman: in a Dutch university there is no wage gap and career opportunities are not about gender. My colleagues respect me, my bosses fear me, and my students adore me, regardless of their gender.

I would simply say that in the bedroom, this feeling of power was intoxicating. And to all the women who have never tried it, I just say «try it at least for one day, you may not like it, but if you do, it will be the day that changes your life».

From the wardrobe I took a very thin lace thong, a matching bra without cups and a silk dressing gown: each piece dark green and black, very refined. The bra was little more than a horizontal band with two very soft underwires. It supported my chest, making my nipples protrude forward. The very thin fabric of the dressing gown formed two sharp curtains. I knew that sight would drive him crazy with desire.

I climbed onto the bed and instead of kissing his lips, I took his balls in my mouth and began to suck hard. I knew he would wake up immediately, and with a powerful erection inside that cruel little metal cage.

I could hear him gasp. “Oh, babe… no, honey, marmaris eskort not now… OMG Gineke I beg you…” Every word made my heart pound. Was I really that cruel? I loved teasing him.

And then I was serene. We had two levels of Safeword: «Sweden» for the yellow t-shirt used in sports, it meant «stop for a moment I have a small problem» like a cramp or an urgent need (or a psychological trauma: you never know a word or a smell can trigger a memory).

And «Danemark» because the red shirt, meant «stop whatever you’re doing now and release me right now, I sense a serious problem».

As long as Ludo complained in simple words, it meant that he also enjoyed playing our game, and I was free to continue. I had licked and sucked his blue balls, and was now running my tongue along the entire length of the cage: it was a gesture I usually made along the shaft of his cock, and it seemed to me that naked he was twice as long! Oh, my poor hubby, prisoner of a cage half as short as usual! And what joy, for me: my heart was as light as a feather.

No duties. No accountability. No pressure. I could tease him when I wanted if I wanted. I could stop at any time and leave him ignored, without tease or orgasm. I was completely free and completely happy.

He, on the other hand, continued to moan and wriggle unconsciously. My husband slid onto his side, perhaps to take the weight of his spine off his cuffed wrists at the back.

But I felt no guilt. If he had needed me to loosen the buckles, he would have asked. Instead, by now he was used to the handcuffs and no longer asked.

I looked at the clock on the wall. 7:58. I couldn’t help but giggle.

I said “Ludo, love, I am dressed, made-up, and combed, you on the other hand are naked and caged. According to you, if the barmaid arrived with breakfast, who should open the door?” and I giggled.

“Oh, Gineke you don’t really want to…”

“Of course!” I gave him my sweetest smile, but a mischievous light shone in my eyes.

Just then we heard a knock at the door. Two knocks: respectful but firm knocks.

“Get up, my dear SLAVE.

I am your Queen and I will lie on the bed, even though I am already DRESSED: while, you will have to trudge to the door, NAKED, while your erection dangles the cage between your thighs. Or do you think that’s too humiliating for you?”

“Oh, Geena… you know I’ll do anything you order me to…”

“Careful what you promise, I haven’t yet decided how you will spend the morning…”

He was already on his feet. Naked, erect on his spine. He would have loved to be erect in cock posture as well, but the metal cage forced him to bow down despite all his efforts.

He staggered over to the door knob.

“Oh, Ludo, I know you would like to firmly grasp another knob, the purple one!” I told him laughing.

He smiled.

Maybe it was a joke we had already said a few more times.

Ludo’s smile froze when he saw who was on the other side of the door. It was one of the barmaids, Loucije, whom we had met on the first day of arrival: over her heels, she wore a short black skirt, a smart dark polo shirt, and a key hanging around her neck that day.

But now the outfit was slightly different: the polo shirt was now absent, and the key dangled between her bare, firm tits, hanging from a chain attached to the ring piercings that pierced her two erect nipples, framed by two triangles of untanned skin. It was exactly what I had asked for as additional options: I knew the piercings would excite my husband by dragging him mad.

“May I come in? Is that allowed? I don’t want to interrupt something intimate between two newlyweds in love,” chirped Loucije, pretending to be a normal waitress in a normal hotel. She knocked twice on the already open door, to complete the recitation.

I replied like a lazy bourgeois Vanilla lady, playing the part of the shy and insecure wife (another thing I knew very well turned my husband on).

“Oh! How embarrassing!” I pulled the sheets up to cover my chin, although that gesture left my legs and the blonde tuft of my pussy bare, exposed almost naked beneath the tiny thong. My husband trembled with excitement, motionless by the door.

The barmaid advanced with an elegant gait, swaying on her heels. The key dangled between her nipples and was hypnotic even for me. Although I am not a lesbian, I can recognize when detail is exciting.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Mistress?” hummed the girl. She was playing a part: if we were in the usual «penicentric» porn movie, my husband would have ordered her to get down on her knees and give him a world-class blowjob (why are they all World-Class all the time?), after allowing him to suck her nipples and pull her chain with his teeth.

But, I thought, we are not in the usual male porn movie. Today everything is under my control. The maid only pretends to obey, but my husband has to obey in all seriousness.

‘Thank you, kind girl, I don’t need anything else, go ahead. You, on the other hand, slave! On your knees. Crawl over here, I will give you your fresh hot coffee to drink, so you will be wide awake.”

Kneeling down, my husband stared at the girl’s nipples. I had a sudden idea: a little wickedness, harmless but fun. At least to me! Which was the thing that mattered most.

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