Alena's Game

[Author's note: if you don't like to read about female domination, please skip to the next story, or

check out my other stories

for something that's more to your taste.

Through a series of counselling session with Cassie, his therapist, Quinn is trying to come to terms with how his wife Alena managed to transform him from her assured, overbearing husband into her willing slave.

Alena is testing his resolve with a game of tease and denial, seeing how far she can push him.]

---

MINEFIELDS

I knew what I needed to do, but I couldn't see how I was going to do it. Alena wanted a massage, which would earn me credits and bring me closer to positive territory, where I could finally earn a sexual favour from my wife, but I needed to avoid breaking the rules she had also set, which would earn me demerits. I followed her through the ensuite door into our bedroom and spread the towel over the bed. Without the protection of the towel I was carrying, I had no choice but to stand there naked as my wife unwrapped her own towel and laid down on the bed.

Alena lay on her front, head turned to look at me. My eyes were focused on the tangle of auburn locks framing her pretty face. I wanted to take in the sight of her delicious, naked body stretched out on the towel, but I understood enough of the game by now to know that it would be classed as ogling at her and I would receive another demerit. I had to be content with the view of the soft curves of her bottom in my peripheral vision as my eyes locked on hers. She smiled.

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

Her focus shifted to my groin and I was intensely aware of my own nakedness under my wife's inspection. Her eyes wandered over my body, ogling me in the same way that I was forbidden to do to her. I was caught in her trap, unable to look away from her face for fear of punishment, but also beginning to stir again, which would also be classed as lusting if I stood before her nakedness with a hard-on. How the hell had I gotten myself caught up in this?

"I'll get the oil," I gasped and plunged back into the ensuite.

I found the massage oil in the cupboard under the sink. The bottle was sticky to the touch and the label had faded; it had been a long time since I had last used it on her, a long time since she had requested a massage. She was asking for the physical attention, and from the flush of her cheeks, it seemed the entire situation was turning her on. I didn't understand why this was all working, but Alena was interested and aroused for the first time in a long time and I didn't want to blow it. Even if I didn't pick up enough credits to earn sex from her, the overall upturn in our love life would be worth the price I was currently paying.

I entered the bedroom to find Alena where I'd left her, lying face-down on the towel. Her eyes were closed and I took the opportunity to let my eyes wander over her smooth skin, the subtle tone of her long legs, the firm flesh of her rear. I looked up to her face and saw her eyes were open; my heart jolted, realising I had been caught out. I bustled towards her, flipping open the lid of the bottle, waiting for the words that would award me another demerit, but instead she closed her eyes and buried her head between her arms.

"Where shall I start?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Wherever you like."

I hesitated, trying to formulate a plan, not believing I had escaped a demerit, but all the options would eventually lead me to caressing her luscious bottom with slick hands and an inevitable hard-on.

"Uh, can we suspend the erection rule, just for this?" I asked, tentatively.

"Why?"

"It's going to be very difficult, and it's not like I'm leering or ogling or lusting, it's just a natural response."

"Lusting is a natural response."

"You're not going to give me an exemption, just for this? That's not fair."

Alena shrugged again and replied, "No, it's not."

Just like that, my plea for leniency was denied. Alena intended to punish me if I didn't keep control of my manhood, but I had no idea how I was going to do that with her lovely body stretched out before me.

"Please," I begged.

I actually begged, reduced to desperation by my wife's strict regulations. Part of me recoiled from the admission that she was in charge in this game and I had no say in how it was going to play out. Alena would simply award credits and demerits as she saw fit, engineering the situation as required to get the result she wanted.

I drizzled a little of the oil across her shoulder blades and began to smooth my hands over her soft skin. I couldn't understand what she had done to me, or how, but I felt my manhood begin to swell immediately. My only comfort was the fact that her head was between her arms, her faced pressed against the sheets, unable to witness my flagrant breach of the rules.

I applied a little more oil along the length of her spine, working my hands down her back in long strokes, luxuriating in the feeling of her skin beneath my touch. I pushed up to her neck, rolling the tips of my thumbs into the soft flesh at the base of her skull, and I heard her sigh in appreciation.

"That feel good?" I asked.

"Wonderful."

"Let me know if you want me to focus anywhere in particular."

"Mm-hmm."

I was rock hard now, leaning over her, letting my hands trail down her back to the base of her spine, digging my fingers into the firm flesh of the tops of her buttocks. Settling into a rhythm, I finally started thinking straight, coming up with a plan. There was a way to win credits without punishment, all I had to do was keep her on her front so she couldn't see me.

"Want me to go lower?"

"If you want."

I wanted, desperately. Dribbling more oil over the soft globes of her buttocks and down her perfect legs, I then set to work, kneading and pressing into the firm flesh of her thighs. Alena sighed in response and wiggled her hips, spreading her legs wider, giving me a tantalising view of her pussy lips. I was shocked to see they were already swollen and pink and I began to work my thumbs up the inside of her thighs in lazy, firm circles until I was able to dig them into the space between her legs as my hands cupped the underside of her buttocks.

I squeezed, parting her lips slightly, and I could see the glossy sheen of moisture there. Alena wriggled again, her hips shifting, and for a moment I feared that I had blown it, but she settled back down, not protesting my hands spreading her buttocks, opening her legs a little more. Encouraged, I let my thumbs explore further into the space between her thighs, stroking the delicate skin around her pussy.

"Mmmm."

I smiled to myself at my wife's response and then my hands froze in place.

"Alena," I said.

"Uh, yes?" she replied, groggily.

"I just need to clarify."

"Clarify what?"

There was a note of irritation in her voice, at being forced to concentrate after having slipped into a world of her own.

"Can I touch?"

In answer, Alena wiggled her hips, murmuring, "What do you think?"

I smiled to myself. "I think I need explicit clarification," I responded, "I don't want to break the rules. Do I have full access?"

"Access?" she echoed, "Yes. Full."

As if to emphasise, she opened her legs wider.

"Thank you."

It felt strange to say that, to be thankful to my wife for being allowed the privilege of touching her. The denial games were stating to do something to me, something I didn't quite understand. They were making me focus on the luscious shape of her body, until the only thoughts I had were of touching and stroking her skin. Even when we were in the garden before, it was like I could feel the draw of her body as it came close to mine, making me ache. Now, with my hands on the glossy skin of her thighs, the pull was magnified, until it was overwhelming. Somehow, through the games, she had begun to instill a deep, insatiable need within me, controlling my actions and my thoughts, puppet strings that she was the holder of, to tug me in any direction she chose.

My thumbs began to move again, brushing up against her labia, working the oil into her folds until she was slick and frictionless. All I could think about was parting her now and sliding my rigid manhood into my wife's body, the aching bliss of the constriction of her walls around me. Instead, I teased a finger along her slit, tracing the moisture there, then penetrated her with my fingertip. Alena groaned, and I took that as permission to slide deeper into her, longing to swap my finger for my straining cock.

I teased her entrance, using my other hand to splay her lips, revealing the hardening nub of her clit poking from beneath its hood as it swelled. I brushed it with a fingertip, and Alena squirmed, groaning into the sheets.

"Raise your hips," I murmured.

She complied and I slid my finger out of her, to a little grunt of protest from my wife. I picked up a couple of pillows and slid them under her hips, raising her up and exposing her slick pussy to me. I laid down on the bed between her legs, pushing her wider until she was splayed out before me, completely exposed. I parted her labia again to reveal her entrance and traced my finger over her delicate inner lips, listening to Alena sigh in response.

Craning forward, I stretched out my tongue and made contact with her labia, stroking gently up and down, taking my time. Beneath me, pressed into the sheets, my erection was painfully hard. As my tongue hesitated at her entrance, all I could think about was the feeling of my manhood parting her and slipping inside. Just the thought was enough to make me pulse, sending a shiver through me that Alena must have felt, because she shifted in place, rolling her hips to press her crotch against my tongue.

I pulled back, not willing to give her what she was asking for, not yet. I let my tongue play over her inner lips, venturing between but not within her, then down to where I found her swollen clit. I teased in circles, licking the edge of her hood, but never making contact with her clit, letting her need build up. I could taste her moisture as it flowed, and in some distant part of my brain that was yet to be consumed with the inescapable need to penetrate her, I realised that my wife was aching too, aroused in a way I hadn't felt for a very long time.

I continued to circle her clit with my tongue, teasing her entrance with a fingertip, dancing just inside her. I could feel her body responding, her hips making little beckoning motions. In what seemed like the distance, I could hear heavy breathing. Smiling to myself, I slid my tongue tip under her hood and pressed it against her clit at the same time as I buried my teasing finger deep inside her, plunging down to my third knuckle in one swift movement.

After the minutes of gentle build up, the effect on Alena was spectacular. She bucked and heaved, crying out. My wife had always been sensitive, but now under my teasing ministrations, the sudden feeling of penetration and stimulus seemed to overpower her. I felt her thighs shudder with the unexpected bliss.

I licked her hard little nub gently while my finger explored deep inside her, looking for the sensitive spot on her front wall, rubbing delicately against it as my tongue rasped against her clit. Alena convulsed again, but then spread her legs wider, straining to open herself to me. I broke off with my tongue, pulling back to look at her sopping pussy, teasing her clit with my thumb even as I began to move my embedded finger into and out of her moist, waiting entrance. I brushed her inner lips with two fingers now, letting her feel the difference before sliding them both in, opening her wider. I pulled myself up to my knees, letting my free hand explore the slickly-oiled globes of her buttocks. My cock stood proudly out in front of me, absolutely rigid.

Legs wide, hips raised on the pillows, her pussy gaped around my fingers as I withdrew them. I stared at the little, dark gap as it began to close. The angry, purple tip of my manhood danced in front of her gleaming entrance as if it had a mind of its own, begging to be set loose to plunge into her. A part of me knew I could do it, that Alena would simply accept my cock inside her. She would allow me to fuck her, to bury myself completely inside her offered entrance, to thrust and pump until I erupted inside her, filling her with my seed. She was lost in a private world of bliss; I could do whatever I wanted with her when she was like this.

I watched, amazed, as my fingers slid into her again, instead of my cock. I laid down, trapping my tormented manhood under me, pressing my face to her dripping crotch, working my tongue again between her labia, searching out the button of her clit. Alena called out, but the words didn't make sense, and in response I began to make little beckoning motions inside her with my fingers, stirring her to emit a low, rumbling groan.

I pursed my lips around her clit and began to suck, taking her nub into my mouth, flattening my tongue tip against her. In response, I felt her tremble around my fingers as she began to close in on her orgasm.

"Uh...," she called out, "Oh... just there. I...."

A wriggle of my fingers cut her off, making her cry out. I began to slide my fingers in and out, keeping up a steady tempo that was matched by Alena's hips, rocking forward to meet me with every stroke. I could feel her quivering, her walls straining to envelope me, and I imagined it was my cock instead of my fingers feeling the insistent call from her body as she approached her climax. The thought of how it would feel to be inside her as she bucked and groaned seemed almost too much for me to bear, and I understood dimly that I was now torturing myself: Alena had nothing to do with it. She was too far gone in her journey to protest or even care. I was keeping myself in denial, just because my wife had asked me to, torturing my aching, neglected cock, forbidding myself the exquisite delight of embedding myself inside her. It felt strange but on some level I couldn't quite understand, it was powerfully arousing.

I licked at her clit with the flat of my tongue, using harder strokes now as I felt her feathering against my fingers. Her thighs began to quiver as the bliss rose up from deep within her, but then I slowed my rhythm, denying her the orgasm she so desperately craved. In response, Alena groaned, grinding her crotch against my face in protest. I continued to lick and thrust my fingers into her, keeping her close to the edge, letting her come down a little, then began again.

Alena built up quickly this time, shuddering with her impending release in a few brief strokes of my fingers against her inner spot. I pulled back again.

"Fuck...," she gasped, "Uh...."

I smiled to myself, enjoying the feeling of rocking her backwards and forwards over the brink, denying her even as her rules were denying me. Slowly, I began to build her up again, listening as her moans became longer, louder, feeling her surrendering to the oncoming wave of bliss. I pulled back again.

"Fuck, Quinn," she gasped, "I need...."

I didn't let her finish. My fingers began to pump into her faster now, as I locked my lips around her clit, sucking. My tongue worked over her nub, my face now slick with my wife's juices, my nostrils full of the heady scent of her pussy. My cock was screaming for a chance to bury itself inside her, as if a couple of strokes would be all I needed to explode in her, but instead I redoubled my efforts.

My fingers made a soft, wet sound as I rocked them quickly back and forth, my mouth sucking powerfully on her tortured clit. I felt her building up and increased my rhythm. Alena's hand clamped against the back of my head, her fist bunching in my hair, pulling my face into her crotch, grinding herself against me in her insatiable need. I had never seen her like this before: aching, demanding, needing to be satisfied, relentless.

Her body surged, her hand crushing my face against her pussy as I felt a wave of slickness from within her. The walls of her pussy clamped around my fingers, trembling with the effort, and I felt her thighs tense, rigid, as a massive orgasm ripped through her. I kept up the pace, pushing her further, until she was a mewling mess of flesh, twitching and groaning around my helpless, trapped face and the fingers still working deep inside her.

Eventually, she released her merciless grip on my hair, and I slid back, breaking contact with her saturated crotch, withdrawing my fingers. Her entrance gaped in front of my eyes, making little gasping motions of its own as the aftershocks of her climax rippled through her, as if beckoning me still to enter her and take my reward.

Instead, I kissed her again on her swollen clit, listening to her breathing as she came down from her orgasm. I was acutely conscious of my raging erection trapped beneath me as I lay on my front, my body frustrated terribly even as my wife had received her release. Alena pulled away, rolling over to sit up on the towel, her breasts swinging free. Studiously, I made eye contact and held my gaze there, though in my desperate state her body was a powerful distraction.

Alena grinned at me. Her face was flushed, her eyes unfocused and her hair framing her lovely face in glorious, perspiration-matted disarray. Her skin gleamed with oil and the sweat of her exertion. She looked down the length of her glorious, naked body at me as I lay nestled, still, between her spread legs. Her breasts rose and fell. I edged forwards and placed a soft kiss on her pussy lips.

"You like?" I asked.

Alena didn't answer me immediately. It was a while before she seemed to have gathered her thoughts sufficiently to speak.

"I like," she replied, "Though, it must have been agony for you."

"It was hard, yes."

Alena's expression changed, her eyes glinting, and I felt a sudden unease. Desperate to forestall her, and conscious of what was hiding beneath me, I opened a new line of conversation.

"So, how do I rate?" I asked brightly, "Was that creditworthy?"

Alena appraised me. "I guess," she conceded.

"How many?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," I continued, "You got the massage, which is one nice thing, and then you got, uh, intimate attention, which is another nice thing, and then you got an orgasm, which is a really nice thing."

"Really nice?" she repeated, mocking me with a smile.

"As in potentially a multiple-credit scenario."

"Scenario? Oh Quinn, you're too much."

I smiled up at her, willing myself to slacken between my legs, trying to postpone the moment when I would have to reveal myself.

"What's an orgasm worth? Five?" I asked.

Alena snorted, chuckling, "You're serious? You think you're that good?"

"Worth at least five," I maintained.

"Look at you, trying to negotiate after the fact. You should have done this before you started."

"So, what's my score now?"

"I'll give three for an orgasm and grant you a bonus credit for the extra effort you put in with the oral," she replied, business-like, as if we were discussing the grocery shopping rather than sitting naked and oiled on the bed.

"And the massage?"

"That's a one-pointer, regardless of how much effort you put in."

I grinned at her. "I'm at plus one," I said.

Alena smiled back, and I allowed myself the hope that my efforts were about to be rewarded.

"You're stalling, Quinn. How about you roll over?"

My face froze. "I'm comfortable like this," I replied as casually as I could.

"I think you're the opposite. I think you're very uncomfortable."

She frowned at me and made a circling gesture with her finger. I didn't move.

"Ah. You know that refusal is a demerit in itself," she reminded me, "Might as well get hung for a sheep as much as a lamb."