[Author's note: if you don't like to read about female domination or male chastity, 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 has shown Quinn the masochist side of his personality. Instead of pushing further with his training, it's time for an earnest discussion between them, as man and wife]
---
SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED
The next weekend, Alena announced that she would be taking me out to dinner. It was an indication of the change in our relationship that my first response wasn't delight at a night out with my pretty wife. She was leaning against the breakfast bar in jeans and a casual t-shirt, standing there in bare feet. She had me naked, since we were alone in the house. I was spending more and more time without clothes that it almost felt natural that my wife was the only one permitted to be wearing anything. I had come to accept that I didn't have the right to request that privilege.
"Why?" I asked, my eyes narrowing.
"Just because," Alena replied sweetly, squeezing my hand.
"There's no such thing as just because."
"Oh, Quinn. You're so suspicious."
"I have every right to be."
"I just feel a little like we missed out on it on your birthday, what with staying at home instead."
"And receiving a caning and then blowjob torture," I added, darkly, not wanting to give my wife an easy out.
Alena just smiled breezily. "Yes, it might have been a little difficult trying to have a nice meal in a restaurant with you too sore to sit down, and with a permanent erection."
"How is my backside, by the way, since you never asked? It's fine now, but it took a couple of days before I could sit down comfortably."
Alena pouted at me. "You're right," she said, "I didn't ask."
She seemed to have no interest in the damage she had inflicted on her husband with the cane, and I huffed at her.
"It was nowhere near the number of strokes I could have given you, if I hadn't stopped," she said, giving me a quizzical look, as if puzzled by my objections, "Nowhere near how hard I'm going to be on you in the future."
She squeezed my hand reassuringly.
"Talking of which, we need to be dressed and out the door otherwise we're going to lose our reservation."
I had burning questions about what she had just revealed to me, but Alena turned and left me standing there in the middle of the kitchen and headed to the bedroom. Frustrated, I took a few seconds before I conceded that the discussion was over and I was not going to get any sympathy for the punishment of my rear. I followed her.
My wife stood in front of her wardrobe, naked except for a set of tiny lace panties. She turned as I entered and held up a bra in one hand and a camisole top in the other, facing me topless. I registered the hard bumps of her nipples briefly before holding eye contact. I knew that she wanted me to ogle her breasts and I wasn't going to fall for that trick. The fact wasn't lost on me that it seemed to give her more delight to see me denying myself the basic pleasure of seeing my wife's topless form than it would have done punishing me for staring. She enjoyed the fact that I was now conditioned to look at her in a certain way, and I did so out of ingrained habit. I conceded to myself that she had been successful in rewriting at least that basic part of my male behaviour.
"Which one do you think? They're both part of the same lingerie set, so I got both," she said, jiggling them, "It's nice to mix and match, don't you think?"
It was a subtle way of tormenting me, making me focus on the soft curves of her naked body and the tantalising promise of sexy lingerie, knowing that she was very unlikely to grant me an orgasm tonight.
"Camisole," I conceded.
Alena shook her head, "No, the bra. Could you help me?"
She handed me the bra and turned to face away from me. I hesitated, not wanting to play my wife's little power game, but in the end felt my reluctance overruled by the opportunity to touch my wife's breasts. I slid the bra around her torso, cupping her breasts in my hands as I pressed the lacy garment into position. Her flesh was warm and soft, yielding deliciously in my fingers. I lingered for a moment, knowing that I would be revealing my unrequited longing to Alena, reaffirming her hold over me, then smoothed the strap behind her back and did up the clasp.
In the week since my birthday, I hadn't been allowed a single orgasm. Worse, I had been made to endure scenes like this on a regular basis, of my wife stripped bare or wearing delicate, sexy underwear, but always forbidden to touch the delights of her skin. The fact that my hands had just been permitted to explore her breasts filled me with an abiding lust but also foreboding. Alena would only tease me like this if it was part of a larger plan.
It had been a long time since she had permitted me to stroke or touch her just incidentally. It felt like a month since her spectacular blowjob, since I'd been allowed the hallowed privilege of actually being inside her. A cynical corner of my brain had noted that despite the apparent success of the game and the list, I was now achieving orgasm less often than I had before we'd started. Somehow, Alena had engineered it so that she was getting whatever she needed, with me constantly desperate to please in all aspects of our relationship, and in return she had actually reduced the amount of climaxes I was having. None of it made sense.
Alena selected a sheer dress in dark blue silk and stepped into it, gathering her auburn locks over one shoulder and turning her head to give me a sultry look.
"Zip me up?"
My hands went to her waist, feeling her firm body beneath the silk. I grasped the zipper and began to pull it up her back, my other hand tracing its way up her body. When I reached her neck and stopped, she spun around, suddenly close to me, and kissed me on the lips. I felt her hand travelling up the skin of my bare thigh until she discovered my burgeoning erection between my legs.
"Good boy," she murmured sexily, "Does the little brain have anything to add?"
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. I savoured the feeling of her fingers wrapping around my manhood, the first touch it had received from either of us in a week. I nodded but didn't trust myself to speak: I didn't want to give her any opportunity to find fault.
"A respectful silence already, Quinn?" Alena mocked, "We haven't even got started with the night. You're so well trained, aren't you?"
She looked down at her hand encircling my shaft.
"Tell me something, darling, and I'm happy to be corrected, but do you think you're actually shrinking?" she asked, "From lack of use?"
She gave me a little squeeze, frowning thoughtfully.
"There are conflicting opinions about cages," she continued, "And whether or not continued use leads to atrophy. Something about the compression inside the cage when you're fully erect but unable to achieve your proper size, about the way the structure changes over time as your body compensates."
She grasped my shaft between thumb and finger, making a show of inspecting me.
"We've seen how you are after a week or so. What would it be like, I wonder, after a year? Would we have solved your little disrespect problem, put the little brain completely to sleep? I could enjoy everything you'd have to offer me without the trouble of this getting in between us."
Alena shrugged, and simply released my manhood, leaving me desperately erect and bobbing in the air. Despite what she'd said, the implied threat to my anatomy, I still ached to feel her fingers around my shaft again. Instead, Alena crossed over to her drawers and opened the top one. She brought out her sleep mask, dangling it from a finger, casually. I stared at it, my misgivings apparent on my face.
"Oh, hon, don't be scared. It's just a blindfold. I don't want to torture you with it, but I do want you to be a good boy for me and put it on," she said, her tone playful and teasing.
She held the eye mask out to me.
"Do it now," she continued, a subtle edge of command creeping into her voice.
Once again, I realised I was already in the middle of whatever game we were playing tonight, and Alena would brook no hesitation on my part. I had a role to play, and she expected complete obedience. I took the mask and slid it over my head, rendering myself blind. I stood there, trying to listen out for movements, but Alena surprised me, her voice coming from behind my back.
"I'm so proud of the progress you've made, Quinn. Look at you now, standing there blindfolded, waiting obediently for your next command. Such a difference to how you used to struggle with all this back when we started."
I felt the merest whisper of her lips as she kissed me on the back of my neck, causing me to shiver with anticipation.
"Now you've become such a good boy, let's put some clothes on you, my little Ken doll, otherwise we're likely to refused entry."
I heard the sound of hangers scraping on a rail as she selected what I would be wearing. There were more unfamiliar sounds and a rustling of a plastic bag. I waited patiently.
"Do you know what an inspection position is?"
I shook my head.
"Then I'll teach you. Hands behind your head, legs apart."
I jumped to comply, but Alena wasn't satisfied. "Legs wider. Bend forward."
I spread my legs wider, as ordered, and leaned as far forward as I dared, conscious of how this stance opened up my body.
"Now remember, you only move when I give you permission to move. You only talk if I give you permission to speak. At this point, you're just my poseable doll."
She paused and I felt a finger tap my cock, "Though, a lot more anatomically-interesting than Ken ever was."
Alena tapped my cock again. I felt a fingernail run under my balls and up my shaft, stirring the blood flow into my manhood. She grasped my head between thumb and finger and gave me a playful squeeze.
"Now," she breathed close to my ear, "Remember, you can't move a muscle."
I heard the sound of Alena picking something up from behind me and my mind started racing through the possibilities. All I could think was that she had positioned me with my bottom sticking out and my hands out of the way. Was the sound I head perhaps a whip? Surely, Alena wasn't going to beat me while I was blindfolded and bent over? Surely, she would at least have discussed it first?
