[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 used an electric stimulation apparatus to turn him into a mindless fuck doll, servicing her every whim on video in front of the women Alena has been seeking advice from. She has taken complete control, pushing him further into pleasure and pain, cementing her power over his body.]
---
INDEPENDENT RESEARCH
"It sounds like you stepped it up," Cassie said.
"Yes," Quinn agreed, "In the weeks after my birthday, we seemed to plateau again, adjusting to a new normal."
"How did you feel about the transition, becoming her slave outside the bedroom as well as inside?"
"Well, I had already more or less relinquished all control in the house, so all she was doing was taking control when we were in public too," Quinn replied, "There was still the anomaly of being at work, but we both knew that was always going to be a hard boundary to our new life. I just couldn't operate at work at the level I needed to if I was also in slave mode."
"How did you cope with that segregation, though? I imagine it would be hard to separate one life from the other."
Quinn shook his head, smiling. "That was the amazing thing. I compartmentalised, in the car. As soon as I closed the door, I was out of Alena's control and the slave went into his little box. Then I would take cases, prepare arguments, meet clients, and all the things I needed to do. I would have lunch with colleagues and discuss everything from office gossip to holidays, then get in the car and drive home. When I opened the car door, the slave came out of his box again."
"So, you were able to just switch?"
"Yes. I guess you could call it that, in the classical sense. I was a switch. In a work context I was a dominant personality, as I had always been, and then outside of work I became an obedient submissive."
"How did your wife cope with the new you?" Cassie probed.
She was trying to be sensitive around his feelings for the woman who had been in his life for so long, who had passed away. The sessions were aimed at rebuilding Quinn's shattered personality, bringing him some measure of perspective on the death of his wife, on the person he had come to depend on utterly. Beneath it all, Cassie could sense the deep trauma of abandonment. It was the wound she was there to finally triage after he had left it to fester since her passing.
Quinn actually laughed, seeming to be lost in thought for a moment. "How did she cope with the new me?" he mused to himself, "Well, she was nothing if not adaptable, more and more so as the months and the years progressed. If I had won a case, we would celebrate, which meant that Alena would be especially merciless. I had a trial go my way after six months of hard slog and she booked us a weekend away in the forest, in a little cabin far away from anyone, and she teased and beat me relentlessly. I had to lie face down on the back seat going home, with my backside all purple and my balls completely drained. Other times, when I needed to burn the midnight oil to prepare for a deposition, she would cook dinner and pamper me, then we would have sex if I wanted it, relying only on the fact that I was of course naked to remain the token nod at the separation between us."
Quinn became quiet and Cassie waited for him to surface his thoughts.
"She massaged my back at midnight on a Sunday, after I had been working all weekend and I was stiff and sore and exhausted. She led me to the bedroom and slipped into bed with me, stripping herself naked so we were cuddled up skin-on-skin. I was apologising for being a poor slave, ignoring her all weekend, but she kissed me and told me how much she loved me. Then she laid on her back and I made love to her gently, in the small, quiet hours of the morning, feeling her body beneath mine and me inside her. I...."
Quinn broke off and stared down at his hands.
"That's okay," Cassie said, gently, "It's fine."
Quinn blinked and moisture ran down his cheeks. "I need to finish," he gasped, "I know it's going to sound sentimental, but I want to tell you. It's still so vivid. I looked down at her, taking in her pretty face, the way she was fixed on me as we built to our climax, the way I felt inside her. It felt like I could see just a little piece of forever."
Quinn doubled over, hugging his knees and Cassie instinctively wrapped a comforting arm around him.
"Oh fuck," he gasped, "Ah, shit. And there it is."
"Let it out," Cassie murmured, "It's okay, just let it go."
---
Alena had been taking occasional nights out by herself. I questioned her about it, about where she was going but she was unyielding.
"It's not for you to ask," Alena said.
"It is," I countered, "If my wife is going out without me, I'd like to know where."
"Ah, there's your problem. I'm not your wife, am I? Not since you gave all that up after your birthday."
Alena's mouth was set in a firm line, waiting to counter my objections. Instead, I followed the only line of argument open to me, given how the loving husband approach had been blown out of the water.
"I just worry about your safety."
"No," she countered, "You worry about who I'm with. What do you think is going to happen?"
She had cut through my subterfuge, to the core of it.
"I don't know," I confessed.
It was all I could manage. Her unexplained disappearances had been filling me with dark emotions. I gathered my thoughts.
"I worry, that's all," I muttered, lamely.
Alena took my hands in hers. "Of course you do," she told me, "What are you worried about? That I'm having a good time without you?"
"Are you?"
"Yes," Alena confessed, "I'm having an astonishing time. How does that make you feel?"
Her words stabbed at my guts. The thought of my pretty wife smiling and enjoying herself with other people was suddenly unbearable.
"Jealous," I admitted, "Left out."
"Jealous? Yes, I am leaving you out, letting you sit here at home, waiting for me to get in. It makes it better though, being in the middle of a conversation with someone and then I'll remember that you're sitting here, fretting about what I'm getting up to, who I'm talking to."
Alena's thumbs traced over the back of my hand and despite the pain that her words were inflicting on me, I relished the delicate human contact of my wife's touch.
"I understand if it's making you jealous. It's a lot to cope with, but this is what you agreed to when you gave away your rights. You gave away any right to ask me to be faithful to you."
My head shot up, eyes flaring as I stared at her. My heart was suddenly in my throat. I couldn't breathe. Alena could see how deeply she had inflicted the pain on me. I expected her to rescind her words, backtracking at my fevered reaction. Instead, unbelievably, she just remained silent. Then she smiled.
"Have...," I choked, "Have you?"
"If I have, what would you do?"
"Damn it. Have you?" I groaned, roiling in anguish now.
My wife, in someone else's arms: the last dark fantasy she had confessed to me. Unbidden, I could imagine her naked body entwined with a stranger, his manhood buried deep inside her, Alena looking deeply into his eyes as he moved inside her. I knew the way she would be looking at him, the longing, the honest look of need as she gave willingly to a stranger that which she had forbidden her husband.
"What would you do?" she asked again, and I knew that if I was going to get my answer, she would need hers.
"Is it love?" I asked, my voice now just a hoarse whisper.
"I only love you."
"I only love you too," I blurted, "Please don't do this to us."
