Total Female Control

[Author's note: Hector is married to Lotte, with whom he has signed a slave contract to become her 24/7 submissive. Lotte has previously outsourced her husband's training to her best friend Bea, and this story begins at the conclusion of his training weekend, twenty minutes after the end of

Tell Me What You Want

.

Hector thought a slave life was what he wanted. Lotte's definition of a Female-Led Relationship is more developed. Bea's divorce is still fresh on her mind. When you give up control, where can it lead?

This story contains themes of female domination, male slavery and degradation. If you prefer female slavery, please take a look at

The Light Between The Trees

instead.]

---

DELIVERED AS ORDERED

Hector knelt down in the hallway, facing Bea. He wore his wrist and ankle cuffs and his thick leather slave collar and nothing else. Bea had showered, pulling on a loose top and jeans, standing barefoot in front of him. The ball gag dangled from her fingers.

"Anything you want to say, Heck, before we get back to it?" she asked.

"No, Bea."

She straightened, her expression becoming cooler, her friendly demeanour changing.

"Uh, no, Mistress," Hector corrected himself.

To his surprise, a look of disquiet passed over the face of the petite blonde woman standing over him.

"Ma'am," she said, "Just Ma'am. Your Mistress will be here any minute to collect you, slave."

"Uh, but... sorry, uh," Hector muttered, fumbling, confused, "Sorry, Ma'am. I understand."

He did understand what Bea was telling him, and it hurt a little. After a day spent enjoying servicing her, he was to be dispatched into the control of his wife again. Despite their intimacy, Bea was telling him that her rights were always just borrowed, delegated by the slave contract that Hector had signed with his wife. It felt like she was closing the door to a forbidden room that they'd both entered freely, where the rules between them had been different. They'd left behind their relationship as friends, then her position as his temporary owner, and surrendered to something deeper. Bea was now pulling them back, preparing to face reality when Lotte arrived to pick him up.

"When I said tell me what you want, I meant it," Bea said, "So this is your last chance."

Hector remained silent. Bea frowned then held up the ball gag in front of his face.

"I need to talk to Lotte. You need to be silent. Open up."

Hector opened his mouth and Bea slid the ball gag into place, fastening it tightly behind his head. She produced the clear plastic casing and a little tube of lubricant from her back pocket and knelt down between his legs. Bea worked quickly, settling his balls and his flaccid manhood into the plastic prison and bringing the two halves together. She worked with the special tool, screwing the cage shut.

Finally, she produced the inch-long bolt, dabbed the tip with lube, and pushed it through the tiny hole in the top of the cage and into his urethra. He felt the steel penetrate and fill him, then twist as she screwed it securely into place by the ring dangling from the head of the bolt. She flicked the ring and it rattled against the clear plastic encasing his genitals.

"One little surprise for your trip home to your owner."

Bea reached into her other back pocket and pulled something out. She held it up in front of his face; his eyes went wide.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she murmured, turning the object so that it caught the light.

Bea held in her fingers a stainless-steel butt plug. It was teardrop-shaped, tapering down to a thin neck and then flaring out into a wide disc that would sit snugly against his puckered opening.

"Lotte bought it for you last week. I've never seen one in the flesh before."

Bea's eyes were locked onto the shining object, then she laughed.

"I can't wait to see it in the flesh," she grinned, "Come forward, onto your hands and knees."

Hector complied, lowering himself into a downward dog, sticking his bottom up in the air. He flinched as a blob of cool goo landed on his rear entrance.

"Wow, you're nervous, aren't you?"

Gagged, all Hector could do was nod vigorously.

"Yeah, Lotte said you might be. I'm gonna be real gentle, but from what I know, it's best if you just relax. It isn't huge, not like the ones you'll be graduating to."

Hector's head twisted to try and catch Bea's eye. She was behind him now, her attention fixed on his pulsing sphincter. He made a snuffling, groaning protest.

"Ssh, it's okay. You just need to relax."

Her hand pressed against his buttock, then a very cold shape made contact with his rear. He squirmed, pulling away. Bea gave him a little tap on the bottom.

"Hey, come on. The less you wriggle, the sooner we're done."

Bea waited for him to stop moving and return to the proper position. It was clear to Hector that he was going to be delivered to his wife plugged: Bea intended it.

"Good boy. Was this a surprise?" Bea asked, her voice kindly, almost concerned.

Hector nodded.

"Lotte said it wasn't. You approved it in the contract. Did you read that part?"

Hector scanned his memory of the pages of his slave contract laid out in front of him. Bea was right, it had been on the list of permissible activities. He hadn't paid attention because he'd focused on the next line, which had been scat play. Feeling foolish, he could see how his wife would have wanted to use that clause. The steel tip touched his sphincter again, but this time he didn't flinch away. Instead, he tried to open himself to accept the inevitable.

"Good boy. That's it."

Bea began to push, rocking the plug back and forth in tiny motions, using the lubed plug to gradually push the lubricant into his rectum, sliding in and out, going a little further each time. He concentrated hard, willing his rear entrance not to contract and bring pain to himself. Bea stretched him wider and wider, until he let out a little muffled squeal at being prised apart too far. There was a sudden involuntary contraction and the rushing feeling of fullness as his entrance puckered around the thin neck. He'd drawn the plug all the way inside himself.

"Wow, you were eager. How's it feel? Full up? Check it out."

Hector rocked back on his haunches, feeling the weight of the plug moving inside him. He reached behind, exploring his cleft with his fingers, startled to discover a solid disk where his rear entrance should have been. He was sealed shut by the plug. It shuddered and Hector heard a clicking sound. Bea was tapping it with her fingernail. She grasped it with her fingers and gave it a little twist. Hector reacted automatically, clenching around the foreign object as his manhood began to fill its plastic prison.

"Shit. It's really snug in there, hey? How's it feel, how are you?"

Bea stood and came around to face him. Hector could only look up at her and make gurgling sounds around the ball gag. He began to drool. Bea bent forward, bringing her face down to his level, her hands on the knees of her tight jeans. Her eyes flashed.

"Fuck. I can't believe I just did that to you. Look at you Heck, plugged up in all your openings. I'm sorry, I just gotta do something. It's gonna be harder on you, but I just need to."

She stepped around him again, taking hold of his wrist cuffs and pulling them together behind his back. There was the snick of a padlock, and she came back to face him again. She stared at him, not saying anything, her cheeks colouring and her eyes bright.

"I'm never gonna forget how you look, just now, Heck. Kneeling there, staring up at me with that hopeless look on your face. I'm never gonna forget, as long as I live. I want you to do something, before Lotte arrives."

Bea reached behind his head and slackened the ball gag just a little so she could prise it out of his mouth. She unzipped her jeans, peeling them down her hips, just enough to reveal her pussy.

"Underwear is a waste of time, I'm a complete mess anyway."

She cupped the back of Hector's head and pulled his face into her crotch. Hector touched his lips to her swollen vulva and she gasped, slick already. He lapped at her slit, sliding the tip of his tongue inside her, tasting her copious juices.

"Fuuuck," she groaned, then, "I'm sorry. I just needed to."

Bea glared down at him, her eyes wild, lost in the moment.

"Do it slave, make me cum."

Handcuffed, Hector only had his mouth to bring to bear. He worked Bea's slit with his tongue, licking all the way down, tasting her entrance and slipping inside her. Bea bucked, pressing his face hard into her pussy, rocking her hips to grind against his face as he explored her.

"You're my slave," she gasped, but talking to herself now, her eyes flickering shut, deep inside her own fantasy.

"Serve your Mistress, slave. Worship me."

Hector plunged deep into her, feeling her shudder against his face as her climax approached. He'd learned what she liked, the way she enjoyed being sucked and licked, applying everything he knew to bring her to the crest of her orgasm. Bea was using him for her own pleasure, no longer thinking of him as her friend, or even as a man. Hector had become a thing in her mind, he could see that, and she was using him for her own release. Bea was already so close to the edge: she'd been powerfully aroused just by inserting the plug into him. Now he was fulfilling her fantasy, bringing her intense bliss.

Bea shrieked, clamping her thighs around his head, smothering him completely as his face was bathed in a hot torrent of her fluids. She quivered, unable to move, unable to free herself from the actions of Hector's merciless tongue, her brain unable to process the movements needed to disengage herself from him. Her pussy shuddered in the throes of its delight, smothering him and cutting off his air.

Hector pulled back, sliding from between her slick thighs, gasping for breath. Bea took a faltering half-step back, her breasts heaving, staring down at him in disbelief. Slowly, she raised a hand to her mouth.

"I squirted," she breathed, "It's all over you. I've never done that. I'm... oh fuck. She'll be here any moment."

But Bea didn't move. She continued to stare down at Hector, at what she'd done to him.

"Lotte was right. It's such a thrill. I'm sorry I messed all over you, Heck."

Gently, she reached forward and pulled the ball gag up, sliding it back into his mouth. She tightened it up again, her fingers lingering in his hair.

Bea cradled his chin, brushing his sodden cheek with her thumb, tenderly. She looked down between his legs, her face becoming more serious.

"Look at what a mess I made of you. I didn't think I'd be this cruel, either, taking it all and leaving you with nothing in return. Look at the way you're filling that thing. You must be fit to burst."

Her eyes fixed on his and he could read the intent in her gaze.

"I could let you out, it'd only take a moment, wouldn't it? Just a couple of quick strokes and that would be enough, you're so ready to go. But it isn't what you want, is it? You want me to walk away."

Hector shook his head vigorously, tormented by the thought of Bea sliding down onto him, her hot, wet pussy enveloping his rigid cock, of filling her with his seed. He gasped. Bea hesitated for a moment, then began to pull her jeans back up her legs, zipping herself up again, leaving Hector wallowing in crushing disappointment, denied the thing he needed so desperately.

Bea strode past him, and he waited in silence, trying to bear the discomfort of the steel bolt that penetrated his shaft and skewered it in place, and then the metal shape filling his rear. Bea was right, and it was all he could think about: her soft hands unlocking his cage, stoking his hardening cock, and then him erupting all over himself. It would be glorious, but she had denied him, and for some reason seeing the gleam in her eyes as she'd walked away was even more glorious. Bea had reduced him to a thing and she had loved it.

"I think that's her car."

Hector jumped with surprise, but also with apprehension at the idea of his wife about to come through the door he was facing. Bea stood to one side with a washcloth in her hand. She touched it to his cheek. He could feel the cool moistness of it.

"No," she murmured, "No, I think I'm gonna leave you just like this. Lotte's gonna see. She's gonna find her husband plugged and kneeling and caged. She's gonna see him with his face all sticky and smelling of sex. You look like you've been thoroughly used, Heck. Your wife needs to see that."

There was a knock on the door.

"Don't go anywhere," Bea smirked, "Not that you can, anyway."

Bea opened the front door wide. Lotte was standing there, elegant in a long black maxi-dress that came down to her ankles. She was wearing heels, her hair pulled severely back from her face and coiled into a tight bun. She'd spent time on her make-up: dark kohl eyeshadow, blood-red lips, every inch the femme fatale from Hector's darkest fantasies. She leaned towards Bea and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Sorry, Bea. Traffic."

"No problem, come in."

Lotte swept down the hall towards her kneeling husband, high heels clicking, the shape of her body mesmerising his arousal-addled mind. He needed her body against his, despite her cruelty and her manipulation of him. He wanted to be used, to have his cunning wife pull up the hem of her dress and crush her slick crotch against his helpless face like Bea had done, demanding worship.

She glanced down at him as she approached, her lips curving into a little smile. Hector's heart surged, preparing for his wife's touch, thrilled and petrified in equal measure. Her hips rolled delightfully, setting his heart racing. What would Lotte do, seeing her husband in the middle of the floor, slick with fluids, plugged in every orifice? He was handcuffed, kneeling, unable to resist if she chose to torment him. He feared what she was capable of inflicting on his helpless body.

Lotte raised her chin, breaking eye contact, swaying past him and continuing down the hallway without even so much as a touch.

"I could use a wine, Bea," she called over her shoulder, "Let's catch up."

Bea followed close behind, and Hector was left listening to the click of heels receding into the distance. His own wife had ignored him completely, more concerned with having a drink and a chat with her friend than showing even a moment of concern for the man she had delivered to be conditioned. He blinked, unable to believe that she had left him kneeling and ignored after abandoning him to another woman for the weekend to train him. Surely she had some words for him?

Hector's head drooped, staring down at his imprisoned manhood despondently, felling utterly insignificant. Everything was happening too fast. From signing the slave contract to being bound and naked on his knees in the hallway smothered with Bea's juices had been what, four days? They'd only taken four days to break him. His pride had been stripped away completely, the idea that he'd be hard to train, able to resist being bent to his wife's will. He'd wanted to believe himself a strong, resourceful man who had been going along with his wife's ideas, playing out a fantasy they shared. In the space of four days Hector had been thoroughly disabused of that notion.

Now, it was obvious to him what the plan had been all along: they had been playing her fantasy, and it went a long way deeper than his. Hector had assumed that entering into a twenty-four seven female-led relationship would involve some lifestyle changes, sure, but also a lot of sexy slave play. He found out to his surprise that his wife had viewed it differently: she was playing for keeps. She wanted to make a permanent change to him, until he was her unresisting plaything. It was a long way past what Hector had expected; he should push back, reclaim some of his self-respect and draw the line, but he'd been steamrollered into obedience by the training regime enforced by the two women in his life: Lotte, the woman he'd married, and Bea, her best friend. The contract was supposed to be just a prop in their fantasy: it wasn't real, he didn't have to be bound by it, it couldn't be enforced in a court of law.

Yet, the two women talking quietly in the kitchen just out of earshot were enforcing it. It was real to them, and therefore real for him. Hector had no doubt that Lotte had always intended to get to this point, but the shock, the blindside that had sent him reeling, was that Bea wanted it too. Far from being a reluctant accomplice, pressed once again into Lotte's plotting, Bea had debased him and then exhibited her handiwork to her friend. She didn't have to show him off to his wife like that, she could have cleaned him up. But, she hadn't. She was proud of what she'd been able to make Hector do and she wanted his wife to see.

Kneeling silently in the hallway, Hector recalled the feeling of her body pressed up against his in the garden chair less than an hour ago, that intimate connection between them. He remembered the way Bea had quivered in his arms after they'd ejected Brent, her ex-husband. It had been a watershed moment, having been discovered as slave and owner, binding them together at a fundamental level. He recalled with a touch of pride the way Bea had stood up to her controlling, demeaning ex, threatening to invent a story that would implicate and humiliate him as much as them if he ever uttered a word of what he'd seen. It had been a watershed moment for Bea too, finally taking back some control from the man who had believed she was still the meek woman he had divorced. A lot had happened in this hallway.

They had forged new ground, a new relationship, and then as soon as Lotte arrived, Bea had turned back into the dominating controller of his every movement that she'd been all weekend. It left him with a question as to what was real: the Bea curled up softly in his arms or the Bea showing off to her best friend? Hector strained to catch anything of their conversation. It seemed to be going on forever, and no doubt Bea would be giving a full report. Would she mention Brent? Bea had told him it was her mess to fix, but how would Lotte react?

Eventually, there was a scraping of chairs and then the sound of high heels coming closer. Hector tried to discern his wife's mood from the cadence of her steps: maybe a little quicker coming back? What did that mean? Lotte swept past him, ignoring him again, raising her hand to click her fingers imperiously as she opened the door. She didn't look back at him as she stepped out into the night.

Bea stood next to him and he looked up at her for any hint. He needed to know the lay of the land. Bea stared down at him impassively, and the cold look in her eyes chilled him. Gone was the warmth in the last light of the sun, curled up together in the back garden. Whatever Bea and Lotte had discussed had hardened Bea's attitude.

Nervously, he got to his feet, looking from Bea to the open door. He wanted to say something to her, ask what she'd said to his wife, how much she had revealed, or maybe even just thank her for the weekend.

"See you tomorrow."

It was all she needed to say. Hector made his way down the hall and out the front door. His wife was standing impatiently beside her car. Although he was naked and cuffed and now in public, Hector scurried around to the passenger side to wait for his wife to open the door for him. She didn't move. Perplexed, he turned around to grab the door handle with his hands secured behind his back.

"Husbands sit in the front. Property goes in the back."

Her tone was icy, and as he spun around to face her, she sneered, as if disgusted by the plugged, sticky spectacle of the creature before her. Hector's heart sank, and any idea of protesting his treatment left him. Lotte walked around to the back of the car, opening it up and indicating the luggage compartment with a tilt of her head. Hector hesitated, but then caught Lotte's glaring expression and thought the better of it. Now wasn't the time, standing naked and collared where anyone could pass by on the street, for him to grow a spine. He clambered into the back, feeling pathetic, humiliated by his wife's haughty expression. She closed the back up and he felt the car lurch as she got into the front.