Tell Me What You Want

[Author's note: Hector has signed a contract with his wife Lotte to enter into 24/7 slavery under total female control. He expected to add a sexy new dimension to their bedroom games, but he soon realises just how serious about a Female-Led Relationship his Domme wife is.

Contains themes of consensual female-led-relationship, impact play. If femdom is not your thing, please browse my other stories for

something more to your taste

.]

---

EXPOSED

Hector looked up from the slave contract at his wife. "Lotte, why do we need a witness?"

Lotte didn't reply immediately, drifting past him to the island benchtop, placing a hand on the contract that they'd just signed, pushing it away. Next, she laid the pen down on top of the document. Finally, she turned to face her naked husband. Hector waited patiently for her to respond, feeling off-balance, cuffed and collared in front of his fully-clothed wife. She held up a single finger and pressed it against his lips.

"Ssh, slave, you don't get to ask questions anymore. You just signed that right away."

"Lotte...."

"I mean it, one more word and that's going to earn you a reprimand."

Hector's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything.

"Good. Slaves are seen and not heard. I'll let you know when you can speak again."

She walked around behind him, the stiletto heels of her knee-length boots ringing out on the stone floor of the kitchen area, the only sound in the entire house now that her husband and his objections had been silenced. Lotte stopped, coiling her finger through the D-ring set into the back of the sturdy leather collar wrapped around his neck. She tugged, forcing him to take a little step backwards.

"Is the collar okay? Not too tight?"

Hector didn't respond.

"Silly boy, you can still nod. I understand non-verbal communication, though is that maybe a bit too much for your poor slave brain?"

Hector nodded.

"Good. I didn't want to resort to asking the little brain instead."

He felt her reach around him, taking his erection in her hand and beginning to move back and forth in slow strokes.

"The little brain's even worse, though. It's only ever got one answer. Sex."

Hector closed his eyes, concentrating hard on the wonderful feeling of his wife stroking his manhood. When she released her grip, he let out a little groan.

"I asked about the collar because I want you to be comfortable in it. I know we only used to put it on for play, but as you've guessed, things have changed now. You signed the contract, you belong to me. The collar will remind you of that."

There was a click behind his head and then another tug. His hands went instinctively to the back of his neck, to discover a little metal square hanging from the leather collar.

"There, locked. You aren't going to be free of that until I use the key. News flash, though, slave. I'm not going to use the key. Keep your hands there though, behind your head."

Hector found himself obeying, mesmerised by his wife's new behaviour. They'd done this before, of course, even with padlocks and keys, but this time, his wife was different. There was a breathless excitement in her voice that he'd never heard before.

His wrist was seized as Lotte positioned first one arm then the other behind his head, wrist cuffs against the back of the collar. Hector realised what she was going to do, and a flash of concern passed across his face. If she locked his arms like this, he'd be powerless to help himself, his body would be completely vulnerable to whatever she intended to do to him. He wanted to call out, to ask for a break, to get his thoughts together because it was all moving just a little too fast, but then he heard the click: too late.

Hector tested his restraints, heaving mightily. The collar was secured tightly around his neck, the wrist cuffs bound around his arms; there was no chance of escape. Lotte picked up the dangling end of the leash and drew the slack in until she had him on a short lead, her coiled fist close to his throat. There was a triumphant gleam in her eyes.

"Not what you intended when you came home this evening?" she purred, flashing him a wicked, sexy smile that made his heart thud in his chest.

He wanted to tell her just how beautiful she looked, but he was commanded to silence. Slowly, he shook his head in answer to his wife's question.

"I really didn't think you'd go for it. I can't believe it took me less than two hours to turn you from my husband into my toy."

Her fingers brushed down his torso, a single manicured fingernail raking lightly over his crotch, his erection, pausing in the little sensitive nook on the underside, just below his engorged head. She brushed her fingertip back and forth just there, a tiny movement that drove Hector's cock wild with anticipation. With his wrists secured tightly behind his neck, all he could do was stare into her eyes as she smiled up at him.

"I'm thinking of adorning you, slave. Just a few pieces. A ring here."

She pressed her fingernail into the sensitive nook, letting him imagine the piercing she intended for him. The fingernail raked down the underside of his shaft, tickling the smooth skin behind his balls.

"Another one here. Then a little lock. There would be no more unauthorised erections. Doesn't that sound amazing?"

Lotte's fingernail continued to caress the soft skin between his legs. Hector stared at her, willing her to allow him to speak.

"I know we've never talked about modifying you, but I can't telegraph all my moves now, can I? If I wanted to do that to you, would you let me?"

Her eyes remained locked on his. He knew that she was waiting for an answer, and there was only one answer that a slave would be able to give. Still, he didn't move his head.

"It would be hard on you, with the piercing initially, but then coping with being locked. Let's be clear. Your mistress has asked you a question, slave, not your wife."

Her eyes glinted, silent now, letting the moment lengthen. Finally, Hector gave in. He nodded. Lotte laughed.

"Good boy. It's all about what I want to do to you, now. You belong to me, don't you?"

Another pause. Hector nodded again, his cheeks burning with humiliation as his wife forced him to admit the control she now had over his body. Suddenly, she kissed him.

"Don't look so concerned. I'm not talking about right now. I'm going to break you into it first. For now, slave, I'm going to put you to use. All this paperwork has given me a wicked need."

She pulled down on the leash, increasing pressure until Hector's knees buckled and he sank to the cold stone floor in front of his wife. Silently, she gathered up the hem of her work skirt with her free hand and lifted it up. Hector watched, spellbound, as his wife's gorgeous, long legs were exposed, then her trim thighs and then finally her crotch. He gasped.

Underneath her work clothes, she was bare. Not just because her panties were missing, but more than that, she was smooth, waxed. He stared at his wife's newly-bare pussy in awe, his cock pulsing of its own accord.

"Like it? Surprised?"

It took Hector a moment to process her words, and he nodded.

"I'm going to make this the focal point of your existence. I'm going to train you to the point that even the slightest glimpse of my crotch is going to have you on your knees salivating, begging to be allowed to touch. I'm going to maintain it like this, too, clean and bare and ready for pussy worship. What does the little brain think about that? Is my pussy beautiful?"

Hector nodded. He thought that he'd been ready to commit to a full-time submissive relationship, but looking at what his wife had done to herself, it was beyond all doubt in his mind now. He wanted, no he needed, to nuzzle between her folds and taste her juices. Constrained by her command to silence, all that was left was to look all the way up her willowy body and beg with his eyes. His wife smiled down at him from on high.

"You need this, don't you? See, look how pretty I am. I know you want to taste, don't you?"

Hector nodded dumbly.

"You may. Do a good job though, otherwise I'll need to correct you."

Hector's eyes fell to his wife's polished crotch. He felt nervous, which was crazy. He'd given her oral before. He knew what to do. But now, after signing away his rights as her husband, after giving her total control over him, it was like it was his first time again.

Where before it had been a means to an end, a way to get Lotte in the mood before sex, now he was being scrutinised in a new way by the woman he'd married, and he would be graded based on his performance. He didn't want to think what she meant by correcting him, but it changed everything. He wasn't doing this for fun anymore, there were punishments if he didn't perform to his wife's satisfaction.

Hector's lips made contact with her skin, kissing the newly-bare area above her slit, brushing against it and feeling how smooth she was. Lotte had definitely waxed, not shaved; she was frictionless. Slowly, he completed an orbit of her slit, basking in her scent, enjoying the sensation of her skin against his lips.

"Do I feel nice?" his wife asked.

Hector looked up at her and nodded. Her eyes sparkled like gemstones high above him. He nuzzled between her folds, parting her with his tongue and tasting her musk. Lotte shivered. Hector wanted to free his arms, bound uselessly behind his neck. He wanted to explore his wife with his tongue and his fingers, until he had her writhing under his expert touch. Instead, his tongue sought out her clit and he brushed over it, lapping eagerly until he heard Lotte hiss and catch her breath.

He could taste how aroused she was, how close already. Her domination of him had already brought her to the brink, and a certain logic clicked in his head. It wasn't the collar, or even the oral that was getting his wife so hot, it was his submission. Purposefully, he met her eyes, staring up at her, powerless to do anything else but pleasure her. Lotte stared down at him as if transfixed, taking in the sight of her husband on his knees, made to serve her. She reacted forcefully, trembling on the spot, her eyes flaring wide, lost in the moment. He could see that this wasn't a game for her: this was her dream, her deepest fantasy. His tongue dived deep inside her entrance and she began to quake uncontrollably.

Hector sucked her juices greedily as she twitched and moaned in the throes of a sudden and tremendous climax. There had been practically no build-up, no warning, and now his tongue buried itself inside her twitching walls as she came and came. It was a revelation.

Lotte shuddered one last time and then pulled back from his questing tongue, leaving his face smeared and shining with her juices, his cock standing rigid, demanding attention. She continued to stare at him blankly, exposing in that one action just how much this all meant to her. Lotte blinked, refocused and took a deep steadying breath. Hector watched silently as she reasserted control over herself. After a moment, Lotte tugged her skirt back into place then patted him on the head. He saw her glance at the clock.

"That was acceptable. I'm just going to clean up a bit. Stay exactly where you are. Don't move."

With that, she strode past him, heels ringing out on the stone, receding into the distance. Hector heard her walk away, feeling in equal parts awed and frustrated by her behaviour. She'd left him kneeling on the uncomfortable stone floor now that she'd had her fun. If she didn't hurry back, his knees would start to hurt.

By the time he heard the clicking of her approaching heels, his knees were in agony. He'd taken to shifting from one leg to the other to try and relieve the stress of kneeling on stone, but it wasn't helping. He stopped, trying to remain perfectly still as instructed, conscious of the fact that his wife could see him now, and would be appraising his obedience. The footsteps ceased and he felt her pat his head, running fingers through his hair. She moved away, and he heard the sound of her pouring herself a glass of wine.

He started to squirm again, his knees throbbing now. He needed to make his wife understand his discomfort.

"Which part of your instructions didn't you understand slave?"

The question shocked him, and his motions ceased. He didn't understand. Lotte would never have said that before. She'd have seen his discomfort and helped him up, rewarding him with a kiss for his troubles. The woman watching him now simply continued to sip her wine, as if waiting. He raised his head and met her gaze but there was no mercy there.

"Eyes down."

Reluctantly, Hector complied, forcing his body to be still, staring down at the floor between his knees. Lotte had changed out of her work wear into a short, white cocktail dress that flattered her willowy figure. Her modest breasts contoured the soft material, her long legs set off spectacularly by the contrast between the white dress and the black boots. Once again, Hector was seized with the notion of burying his face between her thighs. He heard his wife approach.

"That's so interesting," he heard her murmur, as if thinking out loud, "I never thought you'd go for this, but look at you."

The toe of her boot appeared in his peripheral vision, and he followed it as she nudged the pointed tip against his solid erection.

"You're enjoying all this, aren't you? It's making you so hard."

She tapped his erection again with her foot.

The doorbell rang.

Hector's head snapped up, catching a glimpse of his wife's expression as she turned towards the front door, the excitement on her face.

"Excellent, right on time."

What had she been planning? Who was at the door? Hector wanted to call out, but Lotte had already brushed past him. Her footsteps receded again, tapping a staccato rhythm on the floor as she hurried. Whoever it was, Lotte was eager to meet them. His mind raced with the possibilities: a takeaway delivery perhaps? He couldn't bring himself to believe that, it was all too much of a coincidence. The most likely option was that his wife was about to bring in the witness to the contract.

His thoughts churned, trying to guess who she had picked. Would it be a friend, or a stranger? Maybe a colleague from work he barely knew but Lotte had been confiding in. At the same time, he felt his cheeks burning with the impending moment of his humiliation, and this was what pushed the other thoughts from his mind.

Perhaps it was the man she'd been in contact with, while plotting Hector's enslavement. She had found him through the story website when Hector had shown her the stories he liked. His guts clenched as he imagined his wife opening the door to a stranger, in her short dress with her stiletto boots and no underwear, the flush on her cheeks the plain evidence of her arousal. Lotte had taken this man's suggestions so eagerly, she wouldn't think twice about letting him into their house to see the fruition of her plans. Lotte would be only too keen to show him what she had been able to accomplish, showing off her new, obedient slave.

The submission and the dominance had always been their little game, played in private. There had been times, out to restaurants or once while watching a movie at the cinema, where she'd taken it further, tormenting him with words, or, in the safety of the dark movie theatre, giving him a whispered command to undo his trousers and let her fingers tease him all the way through the film.

But now he'd signed a contract, he'd legitimised her power over him, and the game had become real. Lotte was opening up their private world to someone else. He heard a gasp behind him.

"What do you think?"

Hector recognised his wife's voice, a hint of smug satisfaction in her tone, and his face burned with sudden disgrace to have been exposed, on his knees, bound and helpless. He cowered, waiting for the man's voice to reply.

"I told you I could do it," she continued, "And you doubted me, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

He didn't recognise the voice from just that one word, but realised the newcomer was female. His mind blanked, scrambling to assimilate this new information, but for some reason it was better than he'd dreaded. Being discovered naked, collared and shackled on his knees by a man would have been much worse. The ridicule from a man of being so completely bested and humbled by a woman would have been insufferable. For all his attitude to equality and his support of his wife, there was still that deep-rooted part of his psyche that would have been wounded fatally by another man laughing at how he'd given up control to his own wife.

"That was quick."

Again, not enough to reveal her identity. Heels struck the floor, approaching. His wife's fingers ran through his hair again, then patted him on the head.

"Yes, he's such a good boy. He went straight through the process, like I said he would. I got barely a protest in the end. After all that planning, all that waiting, and he just submitted and signed. Here, do you want to see?"

Hector tried to turn his head, but her hand gripped his scalp, keeping him bowed, his eyes on his knees. In his peripheral vision, he could see his wife's boots, and then another pair of feet appeared. He locked onto them: low heels, bare legs. Nothing to go on. He was sure he'd never seen those shoes before. Paper rustled above him.

"He accepted?"

More words, still not enough though.

"I told you, he was so eager. Still is, look at this."

Hector cringed, but the feet turned in his direction. The hand left his head, but he didn't dare look up. He couldn't bear looking up at them, showing them the burning shame on his face. There would be an elated look of victory in his wife's eyes, at exposing him to the humiliation of a public revelation of his submissive nature.

But, there was the matter of looking up at the newcomer, seeing her expression, having to deal with revealing himself. Would she scowl down at him, mocking his pathetic weakness at being reduced to his wife's plaything? Would she stare, as if fascinated by discovering a lower form of life? Would her expression be cold, merciless, as if satisfied that a man had been taught his true place: naked, obedient, on his knees in front of his betters? He stared at the ground, pleading silently for his wife to show mercy, to avoid the crushing degradation of exposing him like this.

The tip of her boot reached out, brushing against his erection. Wordlessly, she moved it up and down, the black leather stroking his sensitive anatomy, flicking up to the tip and withdrawing slightly. Hector stared at the shiny leather, seeing a drop of clear liquid on the surface, captured as she'd brushed his tip. He tensed, ashamed at having demonstrated to the woman standing above him just how aroused he was, leaking precum onto his wife's boot.

To his dismay, she didn't withdraw the boot. It hovered there, in full view, his emission painfully evident.

"These boots are brand new. Looks like he's gone and dirtied them. Reckon that's going to stain?"

"Maybe."

Hector looked down at his transgression in horror. His wife was planning something. It took all his strength not to look up, to plead with her not to do it. He knew that would just make his punishment worse. His wife didn't back down very often, and never in front of other people. She would have to demonstrate her control of her man, and she would need to win.

The toe of her boot rose steadily, coming closer to his mouth. He quailed, the ache in his knees long forgotten as his world reduced to the gleaming drop of his fluid on his wife's foot. She held it there, just in front of his face, not even speaking the command, expecting a display of complete submission in front of the witness. Lotte wanted to show off what she could make her slave do.