Alena's End

[Alena and Quinn embarked on a journey to transform their marriage into a Female Led Relationship in

Alena's Game

. We catch up with them now at the end of that adventure.

This is a story about female domination, chastity and the love that underlies it all. If these are not your particular interests, please feel free to

browse my other stories

.]

---

Alena was quiet in the passenger seat as they drove home from her parents. Quinn chanced a look across at her as she sat hunched up with a beanie tugged down over her ears.

"You okay?" he asked.

"That's a pretty stupid question."

"No, I know, but I mean, is there anything I can do?"

"No, it's fine. It's all fine."

"Want to talk?"

Alena didn't respond, and as they rolled on, the silence deepened. Quinn found himself replaying the afternoon, skipping through the conversations, looking for the point at which it had all gotten too much for his wife. He wanted to say something, but nothing came to mind. The minutes dragged by.

"It's just, you know the feeling you get sometimes?" Alena said, out of the blue, "When you're somewhere and you know, I mean, you're absolutely sure, you'll never ever be there again?"

She shifted in her seat, staring forward, arms wrapped around herself.

"I know that house. They've lived there since I was nine. I know everything about it, every brick."

"You'll see it again, Alena."

They fell into silence again. Quinn didn't want to offer anything, a deep disquiet settling over his thoughts like a fog.

"I already packed for the trip," Alena said.

"You did what?"

"The black bag, in the closet. I'm all set."

"When?"

"Yesterday."

"No, I mean, when's the date?"

"I think a couple of weeks."

Quinn's hands tightened on the steering wheel, the muscles in his jaw bunching.

"I thought you weren't going until, uh, later than that," he grated.

"Nah," Alena replied.

"I see."

"Look, I...."

"I don't think you should go, you know that, right?"

Alena sighed, saying, "I have to, I can't just stay at home. I know you'd rather I didn't. Fuck, me too, but it's the one thing I can't dodge out of, regardless of what you think."

"I think you should just cancel, stay at home. It'll all...."

"I want to, but I can't. You know that. Please, don't let's fight about this."

With an effort, Quinn removed one hand from the wheel and twined his fingers with his wife's. He held her hand, just like that, all the way home.

When they arrived, Quinn parked the car in the garage, then raced around to the passenger side to open the door and help his wife out of her seat. Arm in arm, they walked up to the front door and Quinn unlocked it, swinging it wide. They stepped inside, and Quinn closed the door behind them, disengaging from his wife to begin undressing.

"Quinn, wait, you don't have to do that."

Quinn paused, his shirt half unbuttoned already, his eyes on his wife's face. She was frowning at him, the beanie pulled down low over her head, the collar of the coat tucked up to her chin. Such a beautiful face, Quinn thought to himself, finding himself staring at her without being able to help it.

"I do," Quinn replied, "I'm inside the house now."

Slowly, he continued to strip himself in front of her.

"Of course," Alena agreed after a pause, "Of course you do."

She straightened her back, raising herself up slightly.

"I should have had you strip in the car," she added.

She watched him remove his clothes, stripping himself of his underwear at last, then turned away, striding down the hall. Quinn began to follow, but she raised a hand without looking back at him.

"No. Since when did pets use two feet?"

Quinn hesitated. "I, uh...."

"Since when did pets use voices?"

Quinn watched his wife recede into the distance, then slowly dropped to his hands and knees, following after her across the hard wooden floorboards. Alena disappeared from view into the master bedroom, her bedroom, and Quinn tagged along behind. When he reached the threshold he stopped, waiting on all fours for his wife to notice him.

Alena was busying herself with the wardrobe, laying out garments one by one on the bed, seemingly oblivious to her husband waiting obediently outside in the hallway. Forbidden to speak, forbidden to enter and forbidden to stand, Quinn had no choice but to await his wife's pleasure at the threshold.

He saw her pull the black four-inch stilettos from the bottom of the wardrobe. She kicked off her flats and stepped into them, transforming in an instant from his wife to his owner. Ignoring him, she walked over to the drawers and bent at the waist, her legs perfectly straight, displaying the perfect curves of her bottom. She extracted something from one of the lower drawers, unfurling it carefully as she turned to face the doorway. Alena's gaze settled on him, a cold gleam in her eyes, as if discovering an unwanted nuisance waiting at her door.

"Come."

Quinn scrambled forward, relieved to feel the softness of carpet under his knees after the wooden floorboards. He crawled to a halt in front of his wife, looking up at her and the item she held: a harness. Quinn felt his manhood begin to swell between his legs.

"Oh, now that won't do."

Alena laid the harness on the bed and quickly reached back into the drawer, pulling out a little steel cage.

"On your back."

Obediently, Quinn rolled over onto his back, legs spread to expose his crotch to the ministrations of his wife. With practiced ease, Alena knelt over him, slipping the restraining ring over his balls and then feeding his firming shaft through it until it was settled snugly behind his scrotum. She slid the cage over his tip, applying pressure. Quinn could feel his cock fighting against her, trying to swell to full size even as she bore down on him mercilessly. In the end, he was no match for her determination, and the cage came into contact with the restraining ring. There was a little click.

"All done. Back up now."

Quinn got back onto his hands and knees, feeling the familiar weight of the steel cage swinging between his thighs. Inside, his cock expanded to fill it entirely. All in all, it had taken his wife thirty seconds to cage him up and take control of his erection. He watched plaintively as she slipped the chain over her head so that his little key was nestled in her cleavage.

"All mine, aren't you?"

She surveyed him for a moment, as if expecting him to answer. Quinn knew he wasn't allowed. Instead, he watched mutely as she returned to the drawers again, extracting something else that she held behind her back. She began to walk in slow circles around him as he knelt on the carpet.

"Eyes down, worm. Hands behind your head. I've been slack, recently, haven't I?"

Quinn obeyed, lacing his fingers behind the back of his head, his eyes fixed on a spot directly in front of him. Alena's feet came into view, and she stopped, letting him stare at her wickedly-pointed black stilettos, and what they meant for him. A soft hand caressed his cheek, thrilling him all the way down to his caged erection. Alena had conditioned him perfectly to respond to the lightest touch.

"Too slack," she murmured, "Too soft."

She gave him a tap on the back of his neck.

"Onto the bed, on all fours. Let's remind you of who I am."

Quinn scrambled to comply, getting up onto the bed and taking up position, head down, rear up. He felt her fingers drift lazily across his buttocks, trailing down between his legs, wrapping around the steel cage hanging there. She tugged, making him gasp, his erection bulging through the bars, filling his little steel prison entirely.

"So hard already. Anyone would think you love me taking your erection away," she chuckled, "Remember how you used to be? My big, strong, dominant man. Now you've learned though, haven't you? Learned to surrender."

She twisted, hard, and Quinn squirmed suddenly in pain. Instead of relenting, she held him like that, listening to his breathing come in little gasps as his body fought the urge to struggle, to pull away.

"You little list, your little games. You wanted to turn me into your plaything, didn't you?"

She left go, and Quinn sagged, gasping.

"Instead, I turned you into mine."

Her hand pressed against his rear, smoothing over his taut skin.

"You look good. Taking control of your body, making you work out more, eat better, you're in much better shape these days. You're a joy to look at."

She patted him appreciatively.

"A lot more toned, a lot more... fuckable. A much more fuckable toy. Who owns you, worm? You may answer."

"You do," Quinn rumbled, "You own my body, Mistress."

"Oh, more than that worm. You know it's more than that by now. I own your bank accounts, you've given me full control over your career, your life, signing yourself over as my property. Everything you had now belongs to me. Including all this."

She squeezed his flesh.

"I even own your mind."

The riding crop lashed out across his bare skin, taking him by surprise. He yelped.

"Quiet now. Pets don't speak. Toys don't speak either."

Her fingers stroked the little red mark she'd left on his flesh, then withdrew. Quinn braced, knowing what was to come.

Alena landed the next stroke perfectly, creating a mirror-image mark on his other buttock. He shuddered but didn't cry out. Again, cool fingers smoothed over his skin then withdrew. She struck again, then again.

Alena timed the blows expertly, pausing in between each one just long enough to let the pain sink into his brain, then continued. She landed each strike in a different place, until Quinn had lost count, until his buttocks glowed pink. Eventually she stopped. Quinn could hear her panting, but he couldn't tell if it was from the exertion of whipping him or the excitement of meting out his punishment.

"Look at us."

Quinn didn't raise his head, remaining absolutely still.

"The photo, Quinn. Look at us."

Slowly he raised his head. Their wedding picture stood on her bedside table in front of him. Alena had a little shy smile on her face, looking out at the camera, while Quinn's eyes were locked on her, such a pretty face in her white wedding dress, so much younger.

"I had no idea, did I?" he heard his wife musing from behind him, "So shy, so reserved. I'm sorry Quinn. All those years."

"Alena...."

"Silence," she barked, landing the crop savagely across his bare bottom, making Quinn howl in protest at the sudden pain.

"You're to remain silent," she gasped, "You Mistress has forbidden you to speak."

He could hear the trembling in her voice, but he couldn't tell if it was anger or something else.

"Don't turn around. Don't... don't move."

The room became quiet. Quinn could hear his wife behind him, taking in little stuttering breaths. He wanted to turn around, to see her face, to tell her. His buttocks throbbed with his punishment and instead he didn't move a muscle, his eyes fixed on the wedding photograph, meeting the gaze of the lovely, naïve young woman looking back at him from behind the glass.

"I wish I'd know what I wanted back then, what you wanted," Alena murmured, "What you needed and what I needed. All that lost time. I was trying to be a good wife. I wanted to be a good wife for you."

Her hand was on his glowing skin now, her cool touch soothing his tormented rear.

"My grandmother told me, the day before. She said I needed to take charge in my marriage, that I was too meek. What would have happened if I'd listened to her, Quinn? If I'd have bent you over the end of the bed on our wedding night, had you just like you are now. All that wasted time."

"Alena."

"No."

"Please, let me speak. It wasn't wasted time."

Her hand disappeared from his bottom and Quinn braced himself for more punishment, but instead he felt a lingering, tender kiss.

"That's just it, love. There isn't enough time," she breathed.

She kissed his skin again, softly, dabbing her lips across his rosy flesh, little butterfly kisses across the tormented landscape of his rear.

"Thank you," she whispered, "For bearing this. For letting me hurt you, for giving in."

Alena withdrew, standing behind him now.

"Thank you for wanting this, for needing it as much as I do. Come on, let's get you dressed."

Alena reached across to the bed and picked up the harness.

"Stay completely still."

Quinn didn't move, letting his wife begin the work of wrapping the straps of the harness around his body. She started with the collar, securing his neck, then tightening the straps over his pectorals and abdomen. Quinn felt the familiar constraint as his chest expanded to breathe, feeling his body straining against the leather straps that now bound his torso.

Alena laid the backstrap against his spine, securing a loop tightly around his waist. The harness jingled as she tugged the leather, the little steel hoops at each intersection dancing. Finally, she threaded a thicker strap between his legs, pulling it tight, parting his buttocks and fastening it to a buckle in the small of his back.

She produced a ring gag and slid it between his lips, securing it behind his head, rendering him mute. He looked up at her and she smiled.

"Comfy?"

Quinn gazed up at his wife, unable to do anything but stare. He watched in silence as she rummaged in the drawer again, finding a set of straps.

"Touch your shoulders."

At this, Quinn hesitated. Alena smiled sweetly.

"Oh, poor boy," she said, "Is this a little different?"

Quinn managed to nod.

"Are you concerned about what I'm going to do to you?"

Quinn nodded again.

"Need your safeword?" Alena mocked, "Too much? If you gurgle it approximately, that should be enough for me to know."

Quinn met his wife's steely gaze, feeling suddenly very unsure. This was not like their usual games with the harness: Alena had something else planned tonight.

"Maybe you need a little reminder."

Quinn watched in grotesque fascination as Alena waggled the riding crop. He froze in position, looking into his wife's eyes, pleading silently for mercy.

"Bad boy."

Alena cracked the crop against his rear, causing him to yelp. She paused for a second, eyebrow cocked.

"No?"

Without waiting for an answer, she struck again, but this time the blow was from behind, hitting his rear square on. The pain was shocking and as the seconds passed, a throbbing torment spread across his buttocks. Quinn bucked and strained, a high keening noise emerging from his forced-open mouth.

"Again? Or has my pet been trained to obey his owner?"

Quinn grasped his shoulders with his hands and Alena grinned triumphantly.

"Don't feel too bad about giving in. It's not like you had a choice."

Quinn's head drooped as his wife slipped leather straps around his wrists, securing them to steel rings set in the harness at his shoulders.

"Legs too. Come on, be a good boy for me."

Quinn knew what was going to happen. He knew what his wife wanted to turn him into, and now that his hands were bound uselessly to his body, his chance of stopping her had passed. From here, it was Alena's choice as to when and how he would regain the use of his limbs again. The familiar feelings of shame at allowing himself to be so easily bested by his wife and turned into her plaything, began to surface. As his humiliation deepened, he felt himself grow harder inside his little steel prison. Worse, Alena could see for herself what her inhumane treatment was doing to him. It would be plain for her to see just how much being reduced to her toy was turning him on.

Alena worked quickly, securing his ankles to rings set in the harness at his hips.

"One last thing."

Quinn couldn't look up, couldn't look his wife in the eyes anymore, but he saw what she dropped in front of him on the carpet: a set of pads. He began to shake his head in protest, but Alena ignored him, forcing him to back down off the bed to the floor and raise his limbs one at a time while she secured the pads to his elbows and knees. Finally, he heard the snick of a clasp below his chin and felt a tug. He followed the leather strip up to his wife's hand: Alena had leashed him.

She stood up, tugging him to follow her as she walked around to the other side of the bed. Quinn was slow, unused to flexing his body to walk on knees and elbows, drooling into the carpet. Unable to raise his head very far, all he was able to see were his wife's ankles as she led him around the room.

"Good boy," she murmured, "I didn't think you'd go for this, but you're getting the hang of it, aren't you?"

Alena's hand ruffled his hair.

"Sit."

Obedient without meaning to be, Quinn found himself rocking back on his heels until he was kneeling on the carpet in front of his wife, the stubs of his arms pointing out in front of him. Her eyes played down his body, inspecting her handiwork, her cheeks flushed with her own desire. Her gaze fell to his crotch and he was painfully aware of the feeling of compression between his legs. He followed her gaze and looked down at himself.

"That looks so strange, like I had you neutered."

Quinn understood immediately, seeing what his wife had done to him. The leather strap of the harness had been formed into a shallow cup, covering and compressing the cock cage into his flesh until it looked as if his genitals had been removed. All he could do was stare down at himself, at the space between his legs where his body told him there should be a rigid erection, waiting to be put to use by his wife.

"Imagine I kept you like this. Seeing you straining inside your little cage is one thing, but seeing it all just, uh, missing, that's so very, very hot."

Quinn looked up to see a gleeful, wild expression on his wife's face. She met his eyes and for a moment, her expression softened.

"I'm sorry, Quinn. I'm going to do such things to you tonight. You won't safeword, will you? You'll give me what I want?"

Her face was serious, and Quinn felt a tremor of disquiet.

"I want you to have something to remember me by when I go away."

Beyond the haughty indifference to her treatment of him, there was something else at play in her expression, a little darkness that he knew all too well these days, a gap that could never be filled. Something to remember: the words echoed in his head.

"Now, stay."

Without waiting for a response, Alena turned away and began to strip herself naked in front of him. She was ignoring him now, having turned her husband successfully into her obedient pet. Quinn could only watch as she began to dress herself in sexy new underwear.

She slid her torso into a lacy burgundy basque, letting it lift and shape her cleavage. Compressed mercilessly behind the wide leather strap, Quinn felt himself twitch. If Alena had left him free to, his cock would have been rigid, burning with the need to penetrate the beautiful, beguiling form of his wife. The flat, featureless section between his legs betrayed none of the powerful lust coursing through him.

She pulled a matching pair of lacy panties up her legs, carefully adjusting them into place. Finally, she enveloped her long, sleek legs in sheer, translucent charcoal stockings. She stepped forward into her black four-inch stilettos again, turning at last to face him, her hand on her cocked hip, posing for him in tantalising lingerie. Her body was slim, pared back, less fulsome these days and more angular, but his eyes tracked from her high heels, up her supple legs, to her taut midriff exposed below the burgundy lace. He wanted to reach up with his mouth and taste her skin, show her how much her body was turning him on. A strange half-smile played on her lips as she advanced towards him, stopping with her crotch just in front of his face.