Alena's Game

[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.

After caning him for his birthday, then subjecting him to blowjob torture, Alena has decided to take Quinn out for a belated birthday meal. They have discussed their relationship and where it's heading; Quinn has agreed to a 24/7 Femdom relationship, with his wife in charge. Now, all he wants is to enjoy his meal, but she's done something to his body that he's not allowed to see....]

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BECOMING HER TOY

Alena had ordered a lovely meal, and we settled down to wait for our food. As the sun went down and Alena made her way to the bottom of her second glass of champagne, we both began to relax. It felt like the hard part of the night was over, that the elephant in the corner of the room had been addressed. I think it was a relief for the both of us, to finally get to the watershed and find we were heading in the same direction, with Alena willing to take control of our relationship full-time. For my part, I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I no longer had to struggle with the feelings that had dogged me, of the pressure to be a man and stand up to my wife, to always be in charge in our relationship. I had ceded that responsibility completely to her and accepted my fate. Deep down inside, something had just clicked into place, a little dark gap inside me that my wife had now filled.

Alena steered the conversation towards the day-to-day gossip of her work and mine, catching up as we always did on the events in our lives. It was subtly different now, but still easy to maintain our usual banter. I was aware that there was a barrier that I couldn't cross, questions I was no longer allowed to ask, but all of that seemed a long way from where our conversations were taking us.

The waitress appeared with our plates and set the duck down in front of my wife, and then the risotto down in front of me, deferring subtly to Alena. My wife thanked her, but kept her eyes on me. I knew there was more to come, and I waited.

Alena picked up her knife and fork and began to cut up the duck, taking her time, enjoying the taste. It was a full minute before she looked up at me.

"Not hungry, hon?" she asked.

"Very."

"But not eating."

I grimaced, admitting, "I'm not yet allowed, am I?"

"No," Alena beamed, "You're really getting this, aren't you?"

"I could see it was a test for...."

Alena interrupted me in an offhand manner with, "Silence."

I closed my mouth.

"Good boy. You may have a forkful, but no more."

Hesitantly, I picked up my fork.

"Ah, no. A forkful refers to a quantity of food. I gave you permission to eat a forkful, I didn't give you permission to use cutlery."

I opened my mouth to protest her unfairness, but she cautioned me with a look. I looked down at my food, working through the rules. I took a quick look around at the other diners and then reluctantly, I scooped a portion of the sticky rice off my plate with my fingers into my mouth.

"As you've found out," my wife said, watching me closely with guarded delight, "I can rescind any privilege I like, at any time."

I licked my fingers, chewing.

Alena grinned at me. "Oh, for heaven's sake, use your fork. You're making me look like I'm dining with a crazy person."

I gratefully picked up my fork and waited.

"Oh, yes, you may eat, and yes, you may talk," she said, "At least for now."

We finished mains and Alena ordered dessert: chocolate mud cake for herself because she knew it was my favourite, and plain lemon gelato for me. She then made me watch as she consumed every delicious forkful, a knowing smile on her lovely, chocolate-smudged lips.

"None left for you, sorry," she pouted, putting her fork down on the empty plate.

Alena pursed her lips and smiled, rising from her seat to lean across the table to me.

"Well, maybe just a little left."

I stared at the chocolate on her lips, waiting.

"You may kiss me."

I leaned into her, gratefully, placing my lips on hers. Alena slid her tongue into my mouth in the middle of the crowded restaurant and I tasted chocolate on my tongue. She pulled away and resumed her seat.

"How does it taste?" she asked, smiling sexily at me.

"Divine," I replied, savouring both the taste and the recollection of her delicate lips against mine.

I wanted more, and not just the chocolate. Her kiss had roused the passion in me and in the back of my mind I was remembering how it felt to caress her naked skin. I couldn't help myself; it was as if her kiss had unleashed a wave of memories, of holding her tight in my arms, nuzzling her breasts, the delicious reward of entering her. As I looked across the table at my wife, I began to wonder if the tongue was a signal. Would she let me make love to her tonight, or would she twist it at the last moment, denying me my belated birthday treat? Would she be so cruel, after such a nice, romantic night, to build my hopes up for the express purpose of leaving me at the end of the night in a state of desperate denial, just to prove that she could?

The waitress returned and Alena ordered coffee for us. I watched the waitress's face, how her eyes shifted from my wife to me, trying to work out what was happening. She had picked up that there was something going on between us, but she didn't know what. Alena smiled innocently as the waitress recited her order back.

"Sounds perfect," Alena said.

The waitress left. It looked like I was to be allowed coffee at least.

"Oh," Alena exclaimed, "We haven't talked about your birthday present."

I could see the excitement in her face.

"Is it something nice?" I ventured.

"It's something fun."

"Fun?" I asked, "For me, or for you?"

"Now, why would it matter whether it was fun for you?"

"Because it's my birthday present."

Alena frowned at me. "Don't sulk, otherwise I'll have to remove your speaking privileges. You're sounding ungrateful, and after all the effort I've put in."

Her eyes hardened, and I understood the veiled threat. The roleplay of being husband and wife was over and I was now going to do what Alena wanted.

"We're going to have to address your attitude," she continued, "I could tolerate it from my husband, but you're not my husband anymore, are you?"

Alena paused, scrutinising me expectantly.

"No," I conceded.

"Do you know what you are?"

Her eyes challenged me, but I remained silent.

"I guarantee you'll be in no doubt by the end of the night."

Alena ran her hand through her hair, her mood lifting and suddenly she was smiling breezily at me, as if her ominous threat was forgotten.

"Anyway, back to your birthday present. You're so difficult to buy for, so I was asking a few people in the club for ideas."

This was news to me. Had she been going there regularly? I tried to think back over the past few weeks, the times when she was working late. There had been a couple of evenings where I had sat, naked and on my own, waiting for her to return. Was she having fun with people at the Lost and Found instead of coming home to me?

"Madame Syn let me borrow something, it's a sort of do-it-yourself present since it needed a few other parts. There's some assembly required."

It was the way she was talking, but all the time her eyes were burrowing into me, that made the back of my neck tingle. I shifted uneasily in my seat, recalling again that Alena had done something to my body before we left, something I wasn't allowed to see.

Alena set her handbag on the table and pulled out a short black cylinder about the length and width of my thumb. She placed it in her palm so I could see it.

"What's that?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"It makes the toy work."

"Where's the toy?"

A sly grin began to creep across Alena's face. Oh no, I thought.

"It's you. I turned you into a toy, back when we were still at home. This," Alena said, scooping up the cylinder, "This is your remote control."

She pressed a stud on the cylinder and I built up to the edge of orgasm, my groin spasming painfully as a million tiny fingernails caressed every square millimetre of my cock and balls. I didn't even have time to come fully erect, which was the only thing that saved me from emptying my load into my underwear in the middle of the crowded restaurant.

Then, as quickly as it came, the sensation vanished. I found myself sucking in lungfuls of air as the spasms in my core subsided. My cock, late to the party, now throbbed with the need to bury myself inside my wife.

Alena giggled. "Oops," she said, "Too high. You went from zero to a hundred in two seconds flat. Let's try that again."

"No, wait...."

But Alena had already adjusted the control and she pressed the stud again. My balls began to tingle and my cock head throbbed as a strange sensation began to pulse through my groin, but at least the tidal wave of ecstasy was held at bay.

"Let's just keep you on simmer for a while, so you have time to adjust to your new position."

"What have you done to me?" I hissed, trying not to let an edge of hysteria creep into my tone.

"Like I said, you're now under my complete control. You better be nice to me, otherwise I guarantee I'm going to find out how many times you can cum in an hour. All I have to do is press a button and you'll ejaculate, understood?"

"Yes, understood," I acknowledged hastily, finding it hard to think straight as the device she had fitted to me sent carefully timed waves of sensation through my genitals. It was like ants were crawling over my manhood.

The coffees arrived, and the waitress placed my cup in front of me.

"Aren't you going to thank her?" Alena asked, looking shocked. I felt a pulse of electricity surge through my scrotum, prompting me to speak. I looked over to the waitress.

"Thank you for my coffee," I said.

The waitress smiled uneasily. "Don't mention it," she said and walked away.

I watched her go, not noticing her lovely, pert bottom anymore, but focusing on the way she kept looking over her shoulder at me as she left. Another surge brought my focus back to my wife.

"Still with us? Not ogling the pretty waitress?"

"I wasn't...." I protested but in response, Alena gave be another broadside of the mystery device attached to my groin and suddenly I was teetering on the very edge of orgasm again.

"Are you going to obey?" she mused, watching as I writhed.

"I'm going to obey," I gasped, "Please...."

"Oh yes," my wife laughed, "Yes, you are."

The feeling inside me subsided again as soon as my wife had secured my compliance.

"This is the first part of our new arrangement," Alena said, "From here, you're going to be taught what it means to wait at my pleasure twenty-four hours a day. Often, it's just going to be a conversation, like the one we've been enjoying all evening. Other times, I'm going to be hard on you. I'm going to make you squirm like you just did."

Alena paused for effect, so that I was paying close attention to what she said next.

"An interesting idea came up when I discussed taking this step with you in the forums. One woman in particular had some very good advice. She claims she's managed to transform her husband permanently into a sex toy, after what she described as a rigorous programme of obedience training. She says she presses a button now and he satisfies her every whim. She used something very similar to what I've installed on you, so I have to assume what worked on her husband would work with mine."

"Do you really want to do that to me?" I gasped, horrified to discover that my wife would even have had the conversation.

Alena considered my question, as if I had been asking whether she would like cream in her coffee, not whether she really wanted to brainwash me into becoming her mindlessly submissive fucktoy.

"Well, you see, it's a little more complicated with us. She earns good money, and she married a landscape gardener, apparently for his good looks and his phenomenal manhood rather than his income. She had no problem locking him away from the world for her personal use. You, on the other hand, still need to be functioning enough to earn a salary. I don't want to default on our mortgage."

Alena rolled her eyes theatrically. I was aghast that her primary reason for not subjugating me to permanent sexual slavery like the other woman's poor husband was the chance that I wouldn't be able to keep up the house payments. Then her mood became more intense, and I found myself hanging on her every word.

"I would like to take you to the edge though, just to see if I can get you to that tipping point."

"Tipping point?" I echoed, knowing that I was trapped; I would be subjected to whatever she decided she wanted to do to me.

"Yes, the point where you accept that you are a toy for someone else's pleasure, with no thought of release for yourself. Where you willingly and enthusiastically serve my every need because your body is my property, from this night forward. You had a chance to prevent this happening, but you turned it down. This is what you agreed to let me turn you into."

My imagination filled with thoughts of being worn down by my wife's sadistically creative treatment, pushed eventually to the point that I was too overwhelmed to resist or even think for myself anymore. I would do whatever she told me to do, regardless of how degrading, or how painful, brainwashed into being a mindless plaything for her entertainment. I felt the horror of being rent of all agency, powerless, but also feeling the abiding need to succumb to it, the erotic imperative to become my dominant wife's helpless, weak fuck puppet. My cock was rigid simply at the mere idea of surrendering to Alena's inhumane experiment.

"We can talk about that later," Alena announced, suddenly breezy and carefree, and finished her coffee, "Pay the bill and drive us home. First, though, comfort stop. All that champagne has gone straight through me."

Alena rose from her seat and was gone before I had a chance to speak. I was left sitting in my seat, numb, trying to process what my wife had just revealed to me. Alena was ahead of me again, already well-briefed on what a fully-immersive submissive lifestyle implied and required. I was stunned to hear that she had found a network of life-minded women, each sharing tips and tricks on what worked for their husbands and what didn't. In my imagination, there were dozens of men, all across the planet tonight, sitting at dinner like I was, looking for all the world like normal husbands out on date night with their partners. No-one would know their dark secret, that they, like I, were little more than toys for our wives to play with, stripped of all agency and control.

The waitress arrived with the bill and I avoided her eyes. I thanked her and she left, but I studiously diverted my gaze from her tight bottom.

"Good work."

I turned to find my wife standing behind me. Her eyes flicked up to the retreating waitress and then back down to me.

"You're learning. Let's go, take me home."

I stood up sheepishly, suddenly aware of my throbbing erection. Alena looked down at my pants and cocked an eyebrow.

"That's unfortunate."

I was about to protest, but Alena was already walking towards the door. The device surged powerfully, each wave now stronger than before, and I realised my wife had turned up the controls. I had no choice but to follow her, not even time to try and adjust myself to make the bulge less obvious. Alena wanted everyone to see how hard she'd made me. I almost sprinted to the exit.

Outside, I reached the car and suddenly the sensations in my groin disappeared. Alena stood by the passenger door, waiting expectantly.

"Can't have you too distracted if you're driving me home," she said, matter-of-factly.

There was no trace of remorse at putting me on public display in the restaurant. She became impatient and I realised she was waiting for me to open her door. I scurried to oblige, and she slid into the passenger seat.

Once again, she appeared to be waiting and I blinked, struggling to work out what she wanted. I took the seat belt, grasping for inspiration, and leaned over her to fasten it into place. My arm brushed against her breasts as I did so.

"You had better lift your game, or that's the only touch of me you're getting all night."

"I'm trying," I grovelled, surprised at how easily Alena had managed to push me down into a submissive mindset.

"Yes," she replied, a note of displeasure in her voice, "You're very trying."

I closed her door and practically ran around to the driver's side. All I knew was that I need to keep her happy, otherwise I would be finding out just what the device was capable of. My wife was in complete control of my bodily responses now, and by extension, I could feel that control extending into my very thoughts.

I dropped into the driver's seat and started the engine. We pulled away into the night.

---

At home, Alena waited patiently until I had opened her door and unhooked her seatbelt. I studiously avoided any contact with her body for fear of the consequences. Alena strode up to the front door and waited. I quickly produced my key and opened the door to let her in.

She said nothing once we were inside, just beckoning me to follow. However, instead of leading me to the bedroom, she diverted me to the study. Alena had made changes in the room: the chair was pushed back to the wall and in the open floorspace, Alena had laid a set of interlocking foam tiles.

"Stand there."

I took up a position in the middle of the floor and after a few seconds, I laced my fingers behind my head and stood with my legs apart. For the first time since the restaurant, Alena smiled.

"Oh, you're going to need to do better than that," she mocked, "Strip."

I complied hurriedly, unbuttoning my shirt and then unbuckling my belt. At last, I was going to be able to see just what Alena had fitted to my body. I dropped my pants and stripped off my underwear, standing naked at last. I looked down at my half-erect manhood and finally I could appreciate what she'd done to me.

The belt had a pouch attached, no bigger than would fit a wallet. Several gossamer-thin wires emerged from the pouch: two curving over my hips and two down to my genitals. She had placed conducting pads on my buttocks, just on the skin either side of where my prostate nestled, deep inside my rear. A third pad had been attached to my scrotum between my testicles, and as I looked down, I could see the fourth on the upper side of my shaft, tucked in towards the root of my manhood. I could see two wires trailing from this pad; there were two shiny foil squares set in the adhesive plastic square, separated by a small gap. I frowned.

"Eyes forward," Alena snapped.

I did as I was ordered, and had another shock: my wife was now wearing a mask across her eyes. It was beautifully ornate, and wouldn't have looked out of place at a masked ball.

"What...?" I stammered.

Alena cut me off. "When did I give you permission to speak?" she snapped, her blue eyes flashing dangerously in the ornate, stiff lace of the mask.

She held her hand out to me, holding up the blindfold from earlier in the night. I took it from her without question and was about to slide it over my head.

"Stop," she said, "You need to see something first."

Alena indicated the desk, and I followed her direction. At first glance, nothing seemed out of place. I frowned, unsure of what I was supposed to see. The keyboard looked the same, the screen looked the same, the... and then I saw it. The camera perched on the top of the screen was lit with a single red light.