Tell Me What You Want Ch 07

[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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BEYOND THE LIMITS

Bea had changed into her pyjamas after coming back from her run. She was perched on a stool at the breakfast bar in her kitchen, her hair still damp from her shower, looking at her phone screen.

"Hi Lotte," said Bea.

"Hey."

Hector recognised his wife's voice, relayed tinnily through the phone speaker.

"Good time to talk?" Bea asked.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Oh, just thought you might want a progress update on the training."

"Yeah, I've got time. I'm getting picked up in ten minutes, just warning you."

"Oh, going out?" Bea asked.

"Some of the guys from work. There's a new restaurant opened up and it's with partners."

"Partners too?"

"Yeah, tricky for me obviously, going solo, but I'll think up a story. Can't very well tell them the truth, right? Sorry, but my husband has been turned into a house slave, he's chained up and won't be able to make it. Denzel would piss himself laughing."

Bea laughed, like it was absolutely hilarious, the idea of Hector's wife having to explain her husband's absence by telling them she'd given him to her best friend for the weekend to be broken and trained into a submissive toy for her ongoing pleasure. Hector had met Denzel and his wife a few times. He could picture the look on the big man's face as Lotte revealed that she had her husband tightly under her thumb.

Hector noted sourly that it hadn't even crossed his wife's mind to turn the invitation down, limiting herself to a quiet night in while Bea was putting her husband through the training plan they'd devised together. No, she was getting ready for a fun night out while Hector had the garage floor to look forward to. Lotte always liked to have fun, but this time it was at her husband's expense.

"So, want to see progress?" Bea asked.

"Yeah, if he's around."

"Okay, watch this."

Hector could hear the casual tone in his wife's voice, as if checking up on the welfare of the man she'd married was only somewhere in the mid-range of her to-do list. Bea grinned into the phone camera and fished around in her almost-empty bowl for a noodle.

It was dinner time, after a long day in the sun in the back garden mowing lawns and fixing up fences. Coming on top of a night spent chained upright against the steel shelving in the garage, his exertions were catching up with him now. The near-starvation diet wasn't helping either: Hector was fading, ready for the day to end.

Earlier, Bea had come back from her run and disappeared into the house with barely a word, beyond telling him to put everything away and come indoors. Hector had been relieved to be able to stop, packing up the mower and other bits and pieces into the garden shed and heading in through the back door.

The sky was turning gold as sunset approached: he'd been outside working for twelve hours. He took one look around at the neat lawn, the fence with its regimented line of fixed up palings, the few bushes pruned, the yard swept. Despite the suffering he'd endured, he'd done a good job. He hoped that Bea would appreciate his efforts, not because she was in control of him and had ordered him to do it, but because he wanted his friend to have something nice to look at, another set of issues off her to-do list. With her promotion at work and her ex-husband Brent still sniffing around, Bea had enough to deal with.

Bea had been waiting for him in the kitchen, drinking a tall glass of water in her pink sports bra and hip-hugging running shorts. The way she was reclining against the table told Hector that it had all been done on purpose: the running gear that showed off her slim, petite body, her modest breasts, the alluring sheen of perspiration in her cleavage, her rosy cheeks. She'd told him she was going to take a shower before dinner and had finished her glass, turning and going through the door, already peeling her bra up over her head so that Hector stared at her naked back, visualising how she would look from the front.

She had stopped in the doorway, crossing her arms over her bare breasts as she turned back to him. Her instructions were precise: she wanted salmon udon noodles for dinner. Hector shouldn't expect to be eating with his owner, but was welcome to make the most of whatever food was destined for the waste bin. Then she'd flashed him a gorgeous, cheeky smile and left him to it as he gaped at her flagrant display of flesh. He'd never known her to tease before; Bea's confidence seemed to be growing while Hector's was ground down into subservience with her training regime.

The shower had started a couple of minutes later, upstairs, but Hector already had a plan in place. He sliced the skin off the salmon pieces, frying that up into crackling alongside the carrot peelings, the finely-chopped stalk of the broccoli, and the base of the bok choi leaves. It wasn't a banquet, but it was done and onto a little plate in five minutes. Then he started on Bea's dinner, munching the scraps with his fingers as he cooked.

The food was simple, the waste of the rest of the meal, but he supposed it tasted easily as good as any flashy restaurant. It was a world of improvement from what Bea had been feeding him before. He'd cheated a little with the broccoli, slicing more of the stalk away than he would have normally, but every mouthful felt like a victory. The broth bubbled away, heating the noodles through, the salmon was searing in the pan, and the wonderful aroma of Bea's dinner filled his nostrils.

Upstairs, he could still hear her in the shower and he allowed his mind to wander. He pictured her breasts, slick now with bodywash, the rivulets of water running down her front, cascading from her nipples as she relaxed under the shower. His cock stirred to life, filling the little plastic prison it was encased within, but it didn't matter. With dinner on the go, at least a little food in his belly and Bea naked upstairs, Hector was in his happy place for the first time since his wife had abandoned him on Bea's doorstep for a weekend of slave training.

Now, here he was, kneeling in his display pose on the floor next to Bea's stool as she ate and chatted to his wife on her phone. His hands were resting palm-up on his knees, his legs spread wide and his head tilted upwards, mouth open below a strand of noodle that Bea was dangling above him. She held her phone in her other hand, and he could make out the face of his wife on the little screen watching him.

Lotte was made up for a night out, long straight black hair immaculate, rouged cheeks, a subtle shade of lipstick, gorgeous. He knew that he was staring directly at the camera lens, and therefore directly up at her from her phone screen, posed on display for his wife's inspection. Bea lowered the end of the noodle to his lips and he sucked it in. She squealed, letting go. Hector chewed greedily, paying attention to his wife's expression, the architect of his enslavement. She had eased him gradually through each milestone on a journey he hadn't even known he was taking, leading to this moment, naked and obedient on Bea's floor. His wife laughed.

"That's priceless, Bea. Look at him. Not a peep of protest. Look at that cute little cage as well. I can't believe you got him to wear it. Was there any trouble getting it on him?"

"Nah. He didn't really put up any resistance."

Bea had been tracking the phone down Hector's body, giving his wife a close up of the clear plastic encasing and constraining his manhood and balls, reducing him to a tiny package between his legs. Now, she turned the phone back to herself to continue her conversation.

"That's just amazing. He looks just about fit to drop, Bea. He looks like you've really been pushing him. I'd barely believe that thing you have on the floor was still the man I married."

Hector grimaced at that barb, feeling the sting of her comment. They were hamming it up between them, overdoing the banter for the dubious benefit of their audience of one.

"Yeah, we had a bit of a breakthrough," Bea replied, becoming more serious now.

"What do you mean?"

"Really, I dunno. It was like it said in the plan, but much earlier, and it took me by surprise. I just watched as the lights went out."

"But, what do you mean?" Lotte insisted.

Hector desperately wanted an answer to that question too. What hade Bea done to him? They were talking about it as if it was a crossword puzzle, but they were discussing the innermost workings of his mind. They knew something about him that even he didn't know, had seen something that he'd been unaware of. Bea had pushed him into a deeply submissive state, a haze, and was talking as if that meant she could now get him to do whatever she wanted without resistance. It was borderline insane to consider that she could do that to him, just overrule his very thoughts. Despite everything she had subjected him to, his mind was still his own, wasn't it? She wasn't reprogramming him like he was an alarm clock, pressing his buttons and resetting his brain, was she? It was again just talk for his benefit, a little play acting between the women in control of his life. But Bea didn't sound like she was acting; she almost sounded concerned.

"It's like he just stopped resisting. I could do anything I liked."

"Subspace?"

"I guess. He was way down there, though."

"That's not supposed to happen so quickly. First, you need rapport and...."

Lotte's voice trailed off. Bea shrugged, glancing down at Hector, continuing to discuss him like he wasn't even there. Hector wanted to object, but he didn't. It wasn't because Bea had commanded him to silence before she sat down to dinner. If anything, that was a handy excuse.

The real reason was that he had nothing to refute. Maybe she had done it, dropping him into a deeply subservient mode where he had submitted completely, all resistance to her commands erased like flicking a switch in his head. She shouldn't have been able to do it, but perhaps she really had. If it were true, Hector had the uncomfortable realisation that it said more about his need to be turned into her slave, than it did about Bea's skills at establishing herself as his controller.

"I must have hidden talents, Lotte," Bea grinned at the screen.

"Or I just warmed him up to the idea a lot better than I thought," Lotte replied.

Or a third option, Hector thought to himself, his eyes drifting down Bea's body as she sat above him, to the way her smooth calves emerged from her pyjama pants, to her dainty toes. He bowed his head, fixing his gaze on her ankles. Had he yielded to the slender, bright woman in front of him not because she had worn him down or cajoled him, but because he chose to submit himself to her? If that was the case, surely his own wife would have been able to drop him down into subspace well before this time? What was he missing?

"Anyway, do you want to talk to your husband, Lotte, while you're on?"

It was such an ordinary question, as if they were just hanging out and Bea was offering to pass the phone over to Hector for a chat. He had a burning need to talk to his wife; he had questions he desperately wanted answers to. How far was she intending to push him? Now that she had his slave contract, how much more was his life going to change? She had lent him out to Bea for the weekend, activating the clause that allowed her to delegate any and all of her owner rights to another person, but was he going to be subcontracted out to someone else next time, to a stranger?

Then there were the fundamental questions that the slave contract had raised in their relationship: how deep-rooted were Lotte's domination fantasies and where had they sprung from? What other fantasies did she have? Why did she want to degrade and humiliate the man she loved? He remembered the look on her face as she'd caned him, the wild, animal glee. When and how had that surfaced in the woman he'd married?

"Does he want to talk to me?"

"Probably, but I commanded him to silence so you're not gonna get a peep out of him. He wouldn't dare disobey that. You can permit him to speak if you want, though, Lotte. I don't mind, you're his mistress. Do you want to have a few words?"

There was a pause. Hector waited patiently for his wife to permit him to talk. He began to choose the words he would need to say.

"No, look, I'm sure you have everything under control. My cab's here."

"Okay, all good."

"Though, just put him on a sec, before I go?"

Bea turned the screen towards Hector. He could see the amusement on his wife's face.

"Gotta go, but I'll try and have a good time with the guys from work without you. Hope you don't feel too left out, thinking of me."

Her expression changed, and camera angle shifted, moving down her body. There was a close-up of her hand with the fabric of her dress bunched in it, and then a blur. Hector took a moment to register the picture. His wife was poised sexily in front of the bedroom mirror in a short, black cocktail dress. She was wearing silky, dark stockings and stiletto heels, the hem of her dress pulled up to her waist, exposing her bare crotch. Lotte wasn't wearing any panties: she was going to a work function wearing nothing but a pair of stockings beneath her dress.

Slowly, the camera advanced, closing in on her crotch. She shifted her bunched fist, two fingers snaking out to press onto her reddened labia. She parted herself, exposing her gleaming inner lips to the camera. Hector could plainly tell that his wife was sopping. He was seized by an undeniable need to taste those juices, to embed his tongue into his wife's body and please her. Between his legs, his manhood was painfully compressed in its tiny prison, aching to be free. He could almost feel the sensation of sliding his rigid erection into her, burying himself deeply in her slick warmth. It was unbearable, so close to his wife's breathtakingly fuckable pussy, and yet so far removed.

"I'm going to have fun tonight," she murmured. "I'm going to have a blast, while you're just kneeling there in your little cock cage. I'm not sure when I'll get home, I might be out really late. Denzel does love to have fun."

Above the phone, oblivious to the show, Bea smiled down at him, her eyes fixed on the compression of his cock in its little plastic shell.

"Really, though, gotta go," Lotte called out.

The screen blurred, settling back on her face again. Bea turned the screen back to herself.

"Sure. Have fun. It's all good here. He's all under control," she said.

"Yeah, uh, Bea, look, since you're ahead of schedule, I know you probably had plans this weekend. What about if I take him off your hands Sunday instead of Monday, give you an evening back?"

"If you want," Bea replied.

Hector's heart surged. Lotte wanted him back early, she must have been missing him, despite her dismissive attitude.

"Yeah, I could make use of him, if you know what I mean. A weekend's a long time without service."

Again, just those words were enough to send shivers through his sex-starved body. Unbidden, the fantasy sprang up of her spreading herself open for him and settling herself down on his face to be lovingly attended to. He could imagine her taste, her smell. The pressure in his trapped manhood had become exquisitely unbearable, extinguishing all rational thought, as if the picture of her dripping entrance on Bea's phone had been a drug, and he'd taken a hit. Even to taste her would be enough at this point. To be actually permitted to fuck her would be an erotic fever dream. Lotte had pushed his brain down into unquestioning slavish obedience from miles away with nothing more than a few tantalising seconds of video on a screen.

"When?" Bea asked.

"Seven?"

"Okay. See you then. He might need a hose down before then, he's a little ripe."

"Yeah, good. Look, gotta jet. See ya."

"See ya Lotte, have fun."

Bea tapped the screen and put the phone down. She seemed to notice Hector by her feet.

"Good boy, tidy up, can you? I'm going to open a bottle of something nice and see what's on tonight."

With that, Bea got up and went across to the pantry, collecting a bottle of red wine and a single glass. She disappeared through the kitchen door, leaving him still on his knees, his body trembling with unrequited need. How had they done this to him? Lotte and Bea, working together, had stripped him of his humanity, leaving behind the hulking, aching shape kneeling on the kitchen floor. The rational part of his mind understood that the plastic cage would break if he applied his strength to it, prising the thing open. He understood that he could get up off his knees, his erection unfurling to full size and bring himself to climax; or, he could go and find his wife and satisfy his needs with her. Lotte was burning with lust, he could tell. They would fuck like animals.

But the rational part of his mind was in the minority, crowded out by the urge the women had awakened in him. He wanted to be free, to satisfy his urges, but also to kneel, subservient and bowed until given permission. The conflicting urges had fought themselves to a standstill within him.

Then, the submissive urges won. He wasn't going to get up, to be a real man, to take what he needed. Bea had left him in the kitchen to clean up. Lotte had decided to go out, naked and horny under her sexy little dress to have a night out on her own with other men than her husband. His pleasure was not on the to-do list of either of the women who had taken control of him.

Hector had to fight a strange emerging clarity, as all the happy feelings of earlier dissipating like smoke. Lotte had been more concerned with not keeping her cab waiting than checking in with her own husband. Hector had pulled out all the stops to make a nice dinner for Bea and she had simply ordered him to clean up and dismissed him. Far from being the sexy, fun adventure he'd anticipated, it was beginning to seem that the twenty-four seven slave lifestyle was less about erotic play and more about the dominant female doing whatever she wanted, getting whatever she needed.

Maybe Lotte's mysterious plan was less about sensual exploration and more about practical convenience for her. Was seeing Bea's naked back really a commensurate reward for having slaved in her garden all day? As Hector got to his feet and cleared the dinner things away, the erotic adrenaline rush dissipated. He began to feel less excited about his future and more put-upon.

After everything was neat and tidy, he went to find Bea. She was on the couch watching a show, cradling her glass of wine. He would dearly have loved just a sip and a chance to sit down, but he knew better than to expect either. He didn't wait for her to notice him this time, and he didn't care about having been commanded to silence.

"May I use the toilet? I need to pee."

She glanced up at him for a moment, but then resumed watching her show.

"I'm in physical discomfort," Hector stated.

He hadn't added 'Ma'am' to the statement, unsure of whether they were on familiar or deferential terms, and getting past the point of caring. He was dog-tired, he was still hungry and he was hornier and more frustrated than he had ever remembered.