Alena's Game Ch. 14

[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."

I was wretched, but then Alena took me in her arms and kissed me. "Trust me," she whispered.

---

The next Thursday, Alena told me to have dinner without her and not wait up. Still stinging from our previous conversation, I tried to talk her out of it, offering my services to give her a special night at home.

"I can have your services any night," she replied, "Tonight I want to go out."

"Then let me take you out. We could go back to that new bar, like last week. You liked that, didn't you?"

I was aware of how pathetic I sounded, but I was gripped by a sudden frantic urge to have her with me, anywhere she wanted to go. I would have offered date night on the moon if that would have changed her mind.

"No, I've arranged to meet a friend, it's been booked for weeks."

"What kind of friend?"

Alena shot me an inquisitive look. "Why?" she asked.

"Why do you think? I'm worried," I snapped, silently cursing myself for my abrupt tone, knowing it would only make Alena more intransigent.

"You don't need to. He's very nice."

"Oh, Alena... please."

"He's a friend. I can have friends who are men, can't I? You know I've got male friends."

"Yes," I stammered, "But friends from work, from before we...."

I ran out of words, my brain working feverishly on an argument, any argument that would persuade my wife to change her plans.

"So, let me get this straight," Alena replied, her tone now icily calm, "You commit yourself to me, you agree to put yourself permanently under my control, and it's like some magical watershed moment. Any male friends I make after that point are no longer allowed, is that it?"

She stared at me, but all I could do was shake my head, mutely. Alena was building up momentum and I knew the conclusion was already foregone.

"The ironic thing is that, statistically, I'd be more likely to have an extra-marital affair with someone from where I work, one of my established male friends that you have known for years. So, why the sudden concern?"

"It's different now."

It was all I could manage, all my debating skills, all my famous articulation, reduced to short, blunt sentences by my wife's dominant behaviour. I was left with no defence, no comeback.

"It's not. It's exactly the same. I'm the same," she shot back at me.

She cocked her head, waiting for me to object again, but I knew I had lost the argument. Her mind was made up.

"Can I at least come along?" I begged.

Alena's expression softened and I caught a hint of genuine concern.

"I'm sorry, no. You'll understand, tonight."

Alena gathered her coat and her handbag. She also picked up another bag.

"I'll go straight from work, so I don't get you all wound up again having to watch me leave. I've got a change of clothes with me."

Alena made to kiss me, but I drew back.

"Please yourself," she said and opened the front door.

---

I got very little done all day, my mind coming back to the conversation with Alena. I wanted desperately to believe it was as she said, that she was meeting a friend and that I didn't need to worry. The more I thought about it, the more I did worry. Even if her intentions were entirely innocent, who knew where the night might end up, or what her friend's objectives were for the night? I briefly considered driving over to the university and waiting in the car park. I could follow her and see what the big secret was, the reason I wasn't invited.

Alena had told me to trust her. She had also disclosed how much it meant to her to think of me at home on my own, missing out, feeling the pangs of jealousy. I wouldn't have put it past her to have overplayed the night out on purpose, knowing that in doing so she would be increasing my suffering for her. Why was it so important to her? Why did she get such a kick out of tormenting me? All I knew was that somewhere along the line, Alena had changed. Before this all started, back when she was still my unexciting, passive wife, causing me distress would have made her feel bad about herself. Now, the dominant woman who I had permitted to take ownership of me would go out of her way to torture me for her own sadistic pleasure, either physically with the cane or mentally, as she was doing tonight.

The more I dwelt on what she was doing to me, and how she was choosing to spend the night, the more overwhelming it felt. Instead of stalking her, letting my jealousy power me as I tracked her movements, I drove home, walked in the front door and stripped out of my work clothes. I made myself some dinner and then went to the office to get on with a deposition I was working through. Whenever the thought of Alena meeting up with her new male friend entered my mind, I felt a wave of submissive feelings surge up from within me, simultaneously hating and revelling in how passively I was accepting my wife's decision to exclude me from her evening. I looked down and felt ashamed: my mind was reeling from the cruelty of her dismissal of me, but my erection was rock hard.

I finished my work, but I was too wired to sleep even though I was mentally exhausted. I wanted to show her that I trusted her, and that I accepted her right to leave me at home. Just thinking those thoughts tapped into a deep well of subservience inside me, stoked and nurtured over the last few months by my wife's conditioning. She was pleasing herself while denying me. A voice in my head said that the best response to the situation was to show her my devotion, to please her. The other voice berated me for letting her go through with this, for not standing up for myself and enforcing the single inviolable limit in our marriage. I was desperately torn.

At last, after a long debate with myself, I put the cushion down in the middle of the floor and knelt down on it to wait for her.

The time dragged, and I felt the ache in my knee. I shifted my weight and stretched my leg, trying to ease the discomfort, but unwilling to rise from my position. I was determined to be the first thing my wife saw when she opened the door. She would see the man she loved kneeling obediently and patiently, and she would understand that whoever she met and wherever she went, she would find no-one to match me.

It got to midnight, which was late for a weeknight, and Alena still hadn't come home. I began to worry and wondered if I should call her. I checked my phone but there were no messages. No, I resolved to stay the course. Even if she came home in the morning, she would see me kneeling and waiting for her. Pathologically, I was determined to shame her into feeling guilty for abandoning me.

The door opened. My pulse rate spiked, I hadn't heard the car pull up, or the sound of her high heels on the path outside. I made sure I was in my proper position, and I waited for Alena's response, but there was silence. Tentatively, I glanced up.

Alena was standing in the doorway, barefoot, with her shoes in her hand and her bag on her shoulder, staring at me. She was wearing a short black dress that hugged her figure and showed off her long, lovely bare legs. Whoever she had met, he would have enjoyed the view of my wife all night, I had no doubt. I burned with jealousy to think that she'd put on that little black dress for him, to show her body off for a stranger, letting him ogle her freely while I waited pathetically at home.

Alena saw me look up and swung into motion, closing the front door and dropping her car keys on the side and her shoes against the wall. My eyes were cast down again, looking at the floor in front of me. I heard footsteps approach and a pair of bare feet appeared within my field of view. Then, without a word, she turned away and I heard the sound of bare feet on wooden floorboards receding into the distance.

I kept my body still, even though my knee was aching again, straining to hear. There was the sound of running water and a glass being filled in the distance, and then silence again. I had been kneeling respectfully for two hours, waiting for my wife to come home, and she had simply passed straight by me without saying a word. I closed my eyes, feeling useless and utterly humiliated. Alena had made sure I had suffered all day and then barely even noticed I existed.

"Get up."

I jumped, startled by the voice behind me. I twisted around to see my wife standing there with a half-empty glass of water in her hand and a strange, flat expression on her face. I tried to rise from the cushion, but my bad knee gave way and I keeled over, sprawling across the polished wooden floor. I looked up at my wife, but all I received in reply was a look of annoyance or displeasure. I wriggled around to get my good knee under me, all the while feeling the weight of Alena's gaze, ashamed of the way I was letting her treat me.

Using my hands and my other leg, I managed to push myself up off the floor and stand. My knee throbbed painfully as the blood coursed through it. I wobbled but managed to stay upright. Alena shot me a withering gaze and to my further embarrassment, my manhood began to stir. I wanted to show her what she had made me do, how I had knelt, waiting for her to return, and somehow it had lowered my standing with my wife instead of raising it. The injustice of it all was making me harden under her indifference.

Alena turned away and padded towards the bedrooms. I followed as quickly as I could, trying to ignore the pain that walking was causing me, feeling the weight of my solid erection swinging between my legs. I stopped in the hall and Alena paused in the doorway to the master bedroom, turning to face me.

"Time for bed," she said, in the same flat monotone.

I tried to glean any clue as to how her night had gone from her expression, but she maintained the same dour look on her face. My intuition began to fill in the gaps, noticing the way her hair was pulled back from her face in a ponytail, but disarrayed. There was a faint flush to her cheeks and her eyeliner was uneven and blotchy. She wasn't drunk, but her eyes had a certain unfocused quality.

I could see that Alena had been having a good time without me, and my heart sank. She was dismissive of me because, after whatever high emotion she had been riding all night, she had opened the door to find her pathetic husband kneeling on the floor, waiting for her, like some unwanted puppy too eager to play. I could imagine her exhilaration from the evening with her new friend turning to dissatisfaction at having to deal with me again.

"Where are you sleeping tonight?" Alena asked.

There was a strange look in her eyes. My face creased with shame as that little voice inside my head cursed me for my weakness, demanding that at the very least I should extract a confession from her. Had she fucked him? Had she cheated on me? Had she followed through on her fantasy and put her own sexual freedom above her oath of marriage?

Her look seemed to be asking me if I was going to lie quietly next to her in bed, or if I was going to make a fuss over what she'd done: she wanted to know if I was going to be an inconvenience. My manhood was standing rigid in front of me, but she ignored it completely.

"I could just go to the other room," I replied, caving in under her steady gaze.

"Up to you."

Alena turned away, seeming to dismiss me, and my heart sank. Far from delighting her, I had shown her exactly why she needed to go out and meet men. Why wouldn't she want proper male companionship if all she had to come home to was me? Alena needed a real man to entertain her, and I wasn't that anymore. I couldn't give her what she needed so she was looking for someone else who could, and tonight, judging from her tangled hair and her fatigue, she'd found him.

"Or you could come and sleep with me tonight," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the bedroom.