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. Then she reveals that her best friend is also in on his little secret, agreeing to train and subjugate him on behalf of his wife. Both women are determined that he will be conditioned into total obedience.

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

.]

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CONSEQUENCES

It felt like an age before Hector heard her move. Bea shifted on the sheets and then there were footfalls on the carpet, coming around the bed to where he knelt. He could feel her presence, standing over his body as he huddled naked on the carpet, head bowed almost to the floor. He braced himself for the onslaught, but it didn't come.

"You know I'm gonna report back to Lotte at the end of the weekend. You get that, right?"

Her tone was level, almost conversational.

"Yes, Ma'am," Hector grunted.

Bea didn't elaborate, but she didn't have to. He had confessed, such an awful explosive secret, and it would reach the ears of his wife because Bea would be bound to tell her everything. His cheeks were burning with the shame of it all, curled up, his erection like a steel rod at the humiliation of having to confess to Bea that he'd fantasised about her doing exactly what she was doing now: subjugating him. Sweet, friendly, cute Bea, the woman he'd known as long as his wife, his wife's best friend, now knew that she paraded through his head, dominating him in his dreams.

"Get up slave, you have work to do."

Her footsteps retreated towards the bedroom door.

"Now. You have enough demerits, slave, believe me you don't want to test me any further."

Hector got to his feet quickly, eager to obey, anything to move past this humiliating moment, but his body betrayed him. His manhood refused to soften, and Bea's eyes locked onto it. An expression flickered across her face that might have been annoyance or even disgust, and Hector's humiliation deepened as he tried to make sense of her reaction. It seemed clear to him that confessing his fantasy hadn't pleased her.

Twenty-four hours ago, they had been best friends and equals. When she had arrived the previous evening to discover that Hector had been stripped and collared, that had changed, lowering his status to subservient. Now, his standing had been diminished again. From the attitude of the petite woman in front of him, glaring at his steadfastly hard cock, he'd been reduced to nothing more than a thing in her eyes.

She turned away and Hector stumbled into motion after her, following her downstairs to the kitchen. Bea stopped at the table, looking at the bowls and the cutlery that Hector had set out ready for their dinner. The aroma of the Thai chicken curry he'd cooked was heavy in the air and Hector realised just how hungry he was.

"What's this?" she snapped.

"I set the table for dinner, Ma'am," Hector responded quickly, his eyes scanning the settings trying to find the issue.

"I only need one place, not two."

Hector found himself scrambling to the table, gathering up the other setting hurriedly and taking it away. So, tonight wasn't going to be the two of them hanging out, as Hector had hoped. No, Bea was going to be his inscrutable owner, not his friend.

He'd almost gotten comfortable with the idea of his wife delegating his slave training, imagining Bea putting him through his paces, and ordering him to cook dinner had reinforced that. However, he'd imagined sitting there naked while Bea remained fully clothed, his collar and cuffs still secured in place, but only a token nod towards his slave status while they spent the evening together.

He'd imagined having one of their in-depth conversations afterwards on the couch. He'd been very much looking forward to that, discussing the slave-owner dynamic he had established with his wife, finally having someone to talk to about it now that Bea knew his secret. He had such a lot to say; it had been agony keeping it a secret from her.

Now, it looked like that wasn't in the schedule for the evening. Instead, Bea took her place at the table as Hector began to serve the rice. They'd been upstairs longer than he'd anticipated, and some of the rice had stuck to the bottom of the pan. Hector began to carefully take the unspoiled rice off the top, filling her bowl. As the spoon hovered over his own bowl, Bea surprised him.

"Stop. What on earth are you doing?"

Hector's head snapped up.

"Serving dinner, Ma'am."

"Why would I want two bowls?"

Hector looked from her stern expression down to the spoon of gently steaming rice hovering over the second bowl.

"I, uh, I don't understand, Ma'am," he stammered.

"You don't need to understand. I asked you to prepare dinner for me, not us."

"Uh, I see."

Hector stared down at the rice hungrily.

"But, you seem to have made two servings. Is that going to be a waste now?"

"I suppose, Ma'am."

"I would be a shame to waste food though, wouldn't it?" Bea continued, her voice losing the hard edge.

Hector nodded, waiting for her to relent. Even if he wasn't allowed to eat at her table, he would be happy standing in the kitchen. He needed dinner, after all. This was all just a show, surely?

"Put the leftovers in a container and put it into the freezer. I'll have it during the week."

Hector's face fell, but when he looked back to Bea, he could see the intransigence there. It was so uncharacteristic, an alien expression on her pretty face. Bea had never been tough like this, in all the years he'd known her.

"I'm waiting to be served. Do it now."

Hector busied himself with his tasks, ladling out the curry and taking the fragrant, delicious meal over to his controller. He set it down carefully and stepped back, waiting while she took a mouthful. Bea savoured it, then turned her head towards him.

"I might have to ask your mistress for you on a regular basis."

The words gave Hector a little thrill, but then her gaze alighted on his manhood.

"Though we'd have to do something about your eagerness problem. The last thing I want to look at while I'm eating is how pleased you are to see me."

She made a shooing motion with her hand and Hector retreated, leaving her to eat in peace as he portioned the rest of the meal into a container to put in the freezer. When that was done, he waited silently, standing to attention while Bea consumed the deliciously aromatic food. His erection mercifully began to dwindle as she ate.

When at last she was finished, Hector stepped up and collected her bowl. It was almost empty.

"Would you like dessert, Ma'am?" he asked, fastidiously polite.

"No, that was more than enough. You cooked big portions."

Hector placed the used crockery on the kitchen bench and then turned back to Bea to wait.

"Something to ask, slave?"

Hector licked his lips, feeling nervous all of a sudden. He had a question.

"I was wondering what I would be eating, Ma'am."

Bea rose from her seat and sauntered over to where Hector was standing, that same curiously blank expression on her face again, unreadable.

"So, you expected to be fed?"

Hector nodded, apprehensive.

Bea stepped close to him and he felt his body react as she entered his personal space. Her eyes glittered as she looked up at him, her pretty features giving nothing away. He was acutely aware of her modest breasts beneath the contours of her top, the smooth curve of her bottom in her activewear tights, her bare feet. He began to swell again, despite his efforts to control his reaction. Bea reached around him and smeared her finger in the bowl, her sleeve brushing his bare waist, sending a little thrill through him. She held the finger up to his face.

He smelled the aroma of the curry on her fingertip, saw a fey delight in her eyes as she pressed her finger to his mouth, smearing the sauce against his lips.

"You may clean up. I expect the dishes to be spotless. Oh, and you may recycle."

Hector frowned in confusion, but Bea went over to the handle of the cupboard under the sink and opened it. Inside was the waste bin, with the carrot peel from dinner on the top.

"Bon Appetit."

Hector's eyes widened in horror.

"I told Lotte I'd keep you fed. I didn't specify how I'd keep you fed. You may eat anything that you'd otherwise put in the bin. The peelings are quite nutritious, though you might not want to dig much further down. There's a two-week-old avocado in there somewhere."

Bea scrunched up her nose in disgust. It made her look unbearably cute. Then her demeanour hardened.

"Eat it all. You need to keep your strength up."

She stepped back and folded her arms over her modest breasts, waiting. Hector stared at the orange strips. They were lying over the rest of the rubbish, still gleaming with water from when he'd washed the carrots. He took a tentative step forward.

"I think I'd like you to do it on your knees. Get your head nice and close."

Hector dropped to his knees. There was a faint smell from something deeper in the bin, maybe the rotten avocado. He picked up a strip of carrot peel and held it up in front of his face. He met his tormentor's gaze, pleading silently. Bea simply smiled back at him.

"Yum yum," she said.

Realising there was no mercy to be had from her, Hector pushed the strip into his mouth and chewed. It tasted like raw carrot. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all. Bea was standing over him, making him eat out of her bin, but he realised that he could do this. He picked up another piece and put it into his mouth.

"I know it feels unfair," Bea told him, "Even cruel, but it's what a slave does. Eating is a basic right, but eating properly is a privilege. I can keep you fed enough to serve me, I just don't need to make it appealing. You'll learn to eat whatever I give you. Besides, you're telling me you like it."

Hector glanced up at her, a few strands of carrot peel halfway to his mouth, confused. She nodded down at his crotch. He glanced down too at his solid erection.

"I'm forcing you to eat out of the bin, and you're absolutely rigid. I can't believe that deep down you actually want me to do this to you."

Hector finished the scraps, but Bea wasn't done. She picked up the saucepan with the remains of the rice in it. He watched as she worked her way over the base, loosening the burnt rice that had stuck to the bottom. For a brief moment, he expected her to give him the pan to eat from, but instead she tipped it into the bin. He stared down at it. He was still famished.

"Second course. There you go."

Hector reached into the bin to scoop up a handful of the burnt rice.

"No, stop. I think I'm not going to allow you to use hands. Eat up."

Hector lowered his head to the bin, smelling again that mingled aroma of burnt rice and something rotten deeper down under the layers. Bea had managed to force him to degrade himself, and now she was pushing him further, debasing him completely. He began to snuffle through the rice with his face.

Bea didn't say anything. She didn't need to. Hector munched through the meal she had provided for him, tasting the acrid flavour of the burnt rice. This was as far from the fun night he'd anticipated as he could get. There wasn't anything more that his friend could do to him to make it any worse. She had poked and prodded at his ego and he had split open like the overripe avocado hidden somewhere beneath the layers of rubbish beneath him.

It was almost a relief, to have completely exposed himself now, wallowing in the shame. He was in her power and there was no hope of saving face or dignity from here. He finished the last of the rice and sat back on his haunches, his cheeks moist from his meal. Bea had her bowl in her hands. She tipped it, letting the remnants slide down to the lip, and Hector waited for the scraps to drop into the bin for him to eat.

"Ready for the third course?" she asked, smiling down at her pathetic houseguest.

"Yes, Ma'am," Hector whispered submissively.

Hector kneeled patiently, girding himself for a third foray into the waste. Bea surprised him.

"I want it spotless," she cooed, holding the bowl in front of his face.

Meekly, Hector began to lap delicately at the remains of her meal in the bowl. The curry had been delicious; he'd done a good job. His tongue explored her bowl and she angled it to allow him access, turning it this way and that as he licked it clean. Bea stood over him, close enough that if she took the bowl away he could reach forward with his tongue and lap at her crotch instead. He looked up into her lovely brown eyes as he continued to clean the dish obediently. Bea's cheeks were flushed and her eyes never left his.

At last, he was done. Bea placed the bowl on the counter, then reached down and patted him on the head.

"You're learning," she murmured, "Good boy."

Hector knelt silently in front of her, relishing the sensation of her fingers through his hair, the closeness of their contact. Bea's face softened, but then she stepped back, making a sweeping gesture that incorporated the entire kitchen, turning away from him all at once.

"I want all of this cleaned. Oh, and get yourself a drink. No glasses of course, just drink from the tap."

Hector scrambled to his feet as she left. He could still feel the ghost of her hand in his hair. He looked down at his traitorous manhood, the part of his anatomy that had disgraced him, exposing to Bea his innermost feelings. Starved of sex, it seemed to be taking over, working against him, siding with the women who had taken over his life. It wanted to serve and to earn a reward, a simple idea that the rest of Hector was coming around to. He felt his resolve weakening and the temptation to simply obey the women who controlled him growing stronger.

He drank from the tap, filling his belly with water, then he washed up and wiped down the surfaces, making sure everything was tidy in her kitchen, before going to find Bea again. She was back on her bed, the room lit by her bedside light, the curtains drawn against the night, scrolling through her phone. He stood at the threshold but he didn't knock. Bea knew he was there, of course, but she chose not to acknowledge his presence.

Instead, Hector put his hands behind his head, gripping the back of his collar, standing perfectly still with his feet shoulder-width apart, and resolved to wait for Bea to command him. She didn't look up, though, letting him stand in his display pose as she tapped away at a message. Hector noticed the bedside clock and was shocked to see how late it was. The evening had turned to night, speeding by.

The phone rang, and her lovely face bloomed into a smile. She pressed it to her ear.

"Hi, yeah. Probably quicker to talk than type."

There was a pause as she listened. Bea ignored him, nodding.

"So, yes. There have been issues. I'll give you a full debrief when we catch up."

Another gap.

"Nothing I can't handle. No."

The next gap was longer, and Hector imagined his wife on the couch at home, probably in her sweatshirt and sleep pants, curled up, talking away. As Bea listened, she drew her legs up, the body-contouring lycra rustling with friction as she pressed her knees together. It was an unconscious action, but Hector was mesmerised by it, unable to divert his gaze from the way her free hand settled on the tight fabric enveloping her thigh. Bea bit her lip as Hector's wife continued talking.

"Yeah, sure. I can."

A nod.

"Yeah, definitely. Talk later. You too."

Bea ended the call. Only then did she appear to notice Hector.

"All clean downstairs?" she asked.

"Yes, Ma'am. Spotless as ordered."

"I'll check."

"Please do."

Bea stretched out on the bed, like a cat. Hector couldn't help but notice the way her top rode up over the waistband of her tights, exposing her flat midriff. He tried to fight it, but he could feel himself thickening between his legs. He cleared his throat. It was now or never.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Ma'am? Mistress delegated all privileges to you."

Hector closed his mouth, not daring to breathe, barely able to contain the thrill of his audacity. Kneeling on the floor in the kitchen feeding out of the waste, something had changed in his brain, an acceptance of his status as a thing, but also the acknowledgement of the freedom that came from being enslaved.

Last week, if Hector had offered to service Bea, he would have expected to lose his best friend and end his marriage. But here he was, on the threshold of her bedroom, offering a slave's worship to his owner. His cock rose steadily, but it didn't matter anymore, the humiliation of being so utterly exposed was just the frisson on the top of it all.

Bea sat up on the bed, shifting her hips, parting her legs slightly. He had a full view of her crotch and for the first time in their relationship, he simply stared at it. Beneath the tight blue lycra between her legs was a place he'd never ventured, but that he'd just offered to explore.

Bea swung herself off her bed and Hector's heart thumped in his chest, but she brushed past him and began to descend the stairs.

"It's getting late and it's been a big day," she called back to him, "I need to put you away."

Hector sagged, his cock twitching then starting to dwindle. Reluctantly, he followed her down the stairs.

Bea led him into the garage, switching on the single lightbulb as she entered. She didn't make eye contact with him, beckoning him over to the wide steel shelving.

"This is where you're going to be put for the night, slave," she stated briskly, "Face the shelves. You are to remain silent until allowed to speak."

Hector complied. Bea picked up the end of the chain and looped it around one of the uprights. She measured out a metre of slack and then tapped his arm.

"Hands under your chin. Quickly."

Hector obeyed, pressing his wrist cuffs against his throat, not daring to move them. Bea picked up the pack of padlocks from the shelf. She extracted a bulky padlock from its packaging and threaded its shank through the D-ring on one of his wrist cuffs, then the D-ring on the front of his collar and finally through the other cuff. She closed the lock with a snap.

Working quickly, she threaded another padlock through the end of the chain and then through the D-ring on the front of his collar again, snapping it shut. Hector watched with growing apprehension as Bea retrieved a third padlock from its packaging and slid it through the links of the chain she's wrapped around the upright. It had taken less than a minute for the petite woman beside him to render Hector's hands useless and secure him to the sturdy shelving. She gathered the three keys and laid them across her palm, showing them to Hector.

"All safe and sound. I can't have you roaming the house naked while I sleep. I'm not sure I can trust you not to get up to something."

She made a show of dropping the three keys on the shelving, out of reach, and gave him an icy smile.

"You're going nowhere unless I decide. You're certainly not getting any relief tonight, however much you may want it. Now, let me just send evidence to Lotte."

Hector shook his head frantically. This was way beyond what he'd expected, to have Bea capture a permanent record of his humiliation. She got out her phone and held it up to him. There was a click.

"Oh, that was priceless. The look on your face."

Bea tapped the screen, ignoring his desperate, silent pleas.