Alena's End

Quinn watched as she teased the waist of her panties down to reveal her waxed pussy, close enough for him to touch, yet forbidden. His wife had withheld herself all week, forbidding him any release also, and now Quinn was burning with lust as his wife flaunted her crotch close to his face. All week, she had been merciless, asking him to bathe her, to dress her in sexy lingerie, to shave her legs. Quinn had relished it all, despite the arousal it engendered in him as he was instructed to pamper her, and then the unbearable longing for her body afterwards.

"You've been such a good boy for me. Do you want a treat?"

Quinn's tongue emerged through the ring gag and Alena leaned forward, letting the tip of his tongue make contact with her slit, letting him taste her arousal. Quinn shuddered, closing his eyes as he burrowed into the familiar, enticing scent of his wife's glistening sex. The steel cage, held behind the leather strap, dug painfully into his crotch as his manhood attempted to swell.

"That's enough for now."

Alena pulled away, and Quinn felt suddenly abandoned, bereft of the contact he had been anticipating for so long. He found himself following her, leaning forward until he overbalanced, crashing down onto knees and elbows again.

"Bad boy. Stay."

From his new position, all Quinn could do was watch Alena's legs, wrapped in the sheer hose, shaped exquisitely by her stiletto heels, as she stepped into a leather skirt and pulled it up into place. The taste of her arousal lingered on his tongue. Helpless and constrained by her devices, he wanted to dip into her again, to lick and tease his controlling wife to a blissful orgasm, to earn potentially a little mercy from her as a reward for his obedient service. The thought of it took hold, dominating his mind.

Only half an hour ago, they had been driving home as equals from an afternoon with her parents, talking as man and wife, Quinn without any constraints. Now, his wife had succeeded in transforming him into her neutered pet, waiting patiently for the woman in front of him to decide what to do with him next.

Alena approached him, wearing a white silk blouse with long, blonde tresses cascading over her shoulders and down her back. She smoothed her hand through his hair, petting him.

"I know you're trying to figure all this out. You've seen that I've been buying new things. Here's a couple more additions. I know they're going to present a challenge for you, but you'll do this for me, won't you? If you want your reward, you're going to do whatever I tell you to."

Alena knelt down in front of him, coming down to his level so he could see her face; her hands remained behind her back. He knew she was holding something.

"When I'm through with you tonight, you'll barely even remember who you are, or what you are. All you'll remember is that you belong to me, that I can do anything I want to you. I can see that you're trying to figure out what's next, how far I'm going to go. Let me just put you out of your misery, what do you say? I'm going to go all the way. I'm going to push you to the brink. You don't think I can do that, but I will, I'm going to make sure you're powerless to stop me. Then I'm going to change you, I'll make you desperate for me to do it."

Alena wasn't smiling. Her lovely face, her soft lips, betrayed nothing of her plans. Quinn found himself looking up into his wife's eyes and knew that she had meant every word of what she'd said. She held his gaze for a moment, watching his notions of resistance falter and then evaporate. She saw that she'd won, and she began to grin.

"Now that you're properly deferential to your Mistress, we can begin," she murmured, "Would you like your penis back?"

Quinn gaped at his wife. Very slowly, he nodded.

"Oh, you sure? Careful what you wish for, worm. Too late now."

Alena showed him the object in her hand. Quinn frowned in confusion, unable to make sense of it. It looked for all the world like a flesh-coloured silicone rubber dildo.

"Sit."

The word was enunciated very precisely. Quinn found himself obeying, kneeling in position in front of his wife. He watched in horrified fascination as she attached the dildo to the empty space between his legs, slotting it into place over the shallow cup that completely supressed his groin. He found himself staring down at it, sticking up from his crotch, erect and ready for action. Before he could react, Alena tugged his leash, forcing hm back onto all fours. She circled around behind him.

"Now, relax. I know we haven't done this before, but I've been thinking about it for a long time. It's going to feel like a violation."

Quinn felt a dollop of coldness between his buttocks and squirmed powerfully.

"Now, now, hold still. You don't want me to mess this up."

Quinn's eyes widened, and he began to make a gurgling sound. In answer, Alena slapped him sharply across his reddened buttocks.

"Hold still."

Quinn began to shake his head, but he could already feel his wife's finger, circling his rear entrance through the hole in the leather strap that passed between his buttocks.

"Just relax. I'm going to go inside you now. I know it's your first time, but try and stay very still."

He could feel her fingertip poised over his entrance, exerting a slight pressure. Even as he squirmed and shifted his rear, he couldn't dislodge her. A hand grasped the leather strap, holding him in place.

"You belong to me, remember? Your body belongs to me. If your Mistress wants to fuck you with her finger, your body is going to relax and let this happen."

Quinn stopped moving. His buttocks slackened and when Alena pushed, he felt her lubricated finger slide easily into him. She pulled out slightly and he felt more lubricant being dripped into his crack. The finger pushed in again, and he felt each knuckle press its way past his sphincter until he could feel her hand pressing against his skin.

"Good boy. All the way in. How does this feel?"

Quinn was about to gurgle a response when he suddenly felt her finger stirring inside him. She rotated it slightly, moving again. Quinn concentrated on the feeling of fullness, the strange sensation of his wife's digit moving inside him and then, suddenly, something else. He gasped.

"There it is," Alena murmured, "Oh, wow. Just there."

Quinn began to feel a deep, building sensation in his groin as his wife stroked inside him.

"It's like a male g-spot, I've heard. Would you like me to find out if I can make you cum like this?"

The strange, satisfying feeling was growing now. Quinn groaned through the ring gag.

"Imagine that," she murmured, "I could give you a cock-less orgasm. After a full week of denial, I'm pretty sure this is all you'd need."

Her free hand reached between his legs to take hold of the dildo attached there.

"I could have you always nice and hard for me," she continued, "And if I ever decided you needed a release, I could just milk you like this. So much more convenient than having you hump me like a beast."

She broke off and withdrew her finger. Immediately, Quinn felt another pressure against his rear entrance, something rounded but larger.

"Relax."

Alena pushed, working the object inside him. He felt his sphincter widen to accommodate the intruder and then suddenly it was sliding into him, going as deep as Alena's finger, narrowing until his ring clamped around the neck of the plug she had just inserted.

"And then, this."

The same sensation again, but he couldn't feel her hand, and again; he tried to turn to see what she was doing. He caught sight of himself in the dressing mirror and stopped. Alena was smiling back at him, twanging a thin, black tail that emerged from between his buttocks. Each brush of her hand over the tip of the tail brought the same sensation into his core, moving the end of the plug deep inside him until he was squirming.

"There," she said, "The transformation is complete. How do you feel?"

Quinn could only stare at his reflection, at the creature on four legs with its tail sticking straight up into the air, a huge erection slung under its belly and its mouth stretched open by a shiny steel ring. Alena rose to her feet, gathering up the leash. Quinn felt a tug and his attention was diverted back to the shapely legs of his wife. She began to lead him out of the bedroom, and he found himself shuffling after her elegant stilettos as they clicked on the hard wood flooring in front of him.

Each movement caused the dido beneath him to jolt and dance, and he could feel the sensation of the plug moving in his rear, embedded deeply inside him, as the tail she had inserted into him wagged back and forth with each step. He had never been penetrated before, but Alena had decided to transform him into her pet, tail and all, and he had just let her do it. His mind flashed back to the reflection in the mirror, to the helpless creature on her leash.

Whatever Alena wanted to do to him now, she could. Quinn was powerless to prevent her, trapped in his new form until his wife decided to turn him back into a man. Alena led him into the lounge.

"Now, while I cook dinner, I've devised something to keep you occupied. I hope you like it."

She dropped the leash, leaving him on all fours in the middle of the room. When she returned, she was carrying a plastic dome that she set down on the carpet in front of him. Quinn could see a hole cut into it.

"It's crude, but I understand that pets do need to exercise their frustrations."

She reached between his buttocks, but before Quinn could react, the plug began to hum, sending tantalising vibrations deep inside him.

"Good boy. Have fun."

Quinn stared after his wife, fuming mutely as she walked towards the kitchen area. She looked back once over her shoulder, a sexy little smile on her lips as she viewed the predicament she'd left her husband in.

At first, Quinn tried to ignore the buzz, but it became more and more insistent, until he found himself throbbing with the need to fuck. It became an unreasoning desire. He looked towards his wife, but she was ignoring him now, chopping vegetables and rattling pans, her back turned to him. Quinn stared at the dome, at the hole cut in it. It could have been a cheap plastic mixing bowl, but that didn't matter, it was all part of his wife's devious plan.

The pressure was building inside him, but the hum was too low, keeping him stimulated but not enough to let him cum. He needed more sensation, something extra to let him build to orgasm and finally achieve the release his body was aching for. He stared down at the dome. Hating himself for giving in, for humiliating himself further, he inched forwards until he was straddling it and then he slid his artificial cock through the hole.

It shouldn't have worked, but it did, a little. The act of thrusting into the hole caused him to compress the intruder in his rear, milking its sensations, heightening his pleasure. Each thrust got him marginally closer to his climax. Quinn closed his eyes and began to drive into the hole with force, pushing again and again, feeling his body respond.

"Good boy."

Quinn's eyes snapped open immediately to see his wife watching him from the kitchen, her arms folded and a coy smile on her face, long blonde hair falling in enticing waves over her shoulders. A memory came back to him, of seeing his wife standing just like that in the kitchen when they were first married, the little enticing smile playing on her lips just as it did now. He remembered going over to her, pinning her arms behind her before she could object, lifting her up onto the breakfast bench, spreading her legs. He could still recall the lust in her eyes as he pushed up her skirt and slid himself into her, watching her yield to his passion, surrender her body to her husband's need. He shivered at the memory of being allowed inside her, of slipping his cock into her warm, waiting folds, at now being relegated by his cruel wife to humping a plastic bowl in the middle of the carpet like an animal while she watched.

"Look at what I've been able to turn you into. It must feel so degrading, getting your pleasure like that. Look at you, so desperate, like a dog on heat. Who would have thought my big strong husband would be let himself be reduced to this?"

Quinn stared back at her, his breath hissing through the ring gag as his abdominals strained, aching for that little extra bit of sensation that would bring about orgasm. He needed her to see what she'd done to him, what she'd made him into, and then to take pity on him and unlock him and let him satisfy her with his throbbing cock. Quinn desperately wanted to cum inside his wife, to fill her with his seed. He almost couldn't believe it when she turned back around and continued preparing dinner, leaving him ignored and desperate.

Quinn closed his eyes in anguish, close to the edge but unable to get any further. There was a sharp tug on his collar, and he looked up.

"That's the end of that. Did you get anywhere?"

Slowly, Quinn shook his head.

"Pity. That's all I was going to allow you tonight. Seems you had your chance and you blew it."

Alena began to lead him into the corner of the room, to where the pet crate stood, its door open. Quinn tugged back, stopping.

"Yes, that's right. Time to go into your crate. I want to put you away while I have dinner. Come on."

Quinn refused to budge. Alena squatted down to make sure he could read her steely expression. She enunciated each word with icy precision.

"Bad boy. Get into the crate."

For a moment, they were locked into a battle of wills, Quinn straining against the leash as Alena tried to tug him towards the crate.

"You know how this works. You know you always do what I want. I own you, remember? I can do such things to you if you disobey."

Reluctantly, finally, Quinn yielded, backing himself into the dog crate until Alena could swing the cage door closed in front of his face.

"There. Just in time."

Quinn frowned, but Alena didn't elaborate, turning to sweep back towards the kitchen area, gathering cutlery and crockery to set the dining table. Quinn watched, bemused, as she set two places. How was he supposed to have dinner like this? Was the playtime finished now, and Alena would unbind him and let him sit at the table with her to eat?

There was something different about her tonight, a focus that he had rarely seen. Whereas usually there would be a look or a little smile, something to let him see that she was toying with him, tonight there were none of those tell-tales. His wife wasn't interested in playing, just in obedience, and that unnerved him. The fake appendage attached between his legs was unwelcome too, as was the ever-present hum of the plug in his rear. Alena had gone all out, transforming him from her husband into her pet, but had now just shut him out of the way. It didn't make sense. As she began to pour the wine into the two glasses on the table, all Quinn could do was watch from the corner of the room, between the bars. What was she up to?

The doorbell rang and Quinn's body shuddered, his mind going into overdrive. A delivery? Maybe she ordered in dessert? Straining to hear, Quinn could detect his wife's voice, laughing, then engaging in conversation at the front door. He heard the door shut. What had she received?

"Perfect timing."

Alena's voice was closer now, talking to herself, he thought.

"You said seven."

Quinn froze: a man's voice. Instinctively, he cowered back into the crate, trying to hide himself, his thoughts in turmoil. What the hell was Alena doing?

"Just about ready to serve up," Alena said, "Would you like to take a seat?"

"Yeah. Sit anywhere?"

"Anywhere you like, I don't mind."

"Okay."

Quinn found that he was holding his breath, his heart hammering in his chest loudly enough that he was sure that they could hear it. He tried to remain absolutely still for fear of giving himself away. There was a scrape of a chair: the man had taken his place at the table, the place that Quinn should be sitting, ready to have a lovely dinner with his wife.

"Nice house."

Alena laughed. "Nice mortgage you mean."

"Yes, it's a good area."

"Do you get over this way often?"

"Rarely. I'm quite the homebody, really, aside from the club."

The club, Quinn thought, the Lost and Found. The knowledge suddenly made the situation a lot worse. He wasn't a colleague from the university where Alena worked, no, she'd invited a man she'd met in a kink club back to her house for dinner. Quinn forced himself to exhale with excruciating slowness, wincing at the sound he was making. He wanted them to talk again, or put on music, anything to cover the noises he would have to make. He definitely didn't want to let this stranger know that he was having dinner with a woman who had such complete control over her husband that she could tidy him out of her way, locked naked in a dog crate not more than four metres from where he now sat.

Heels clicked on the hard stone surface of the kitchen floor as his wife walked about, becoming muffled as she trod on the carpet of the lounge area, coming closer. Quinn craned his neck, risking a look out through the front of the crate. He caught a glimpse of his wife walking to the table with a plate in each hand, smiling sweetly in her leather skirt and high heels. The shame burned in Quinn. It should have been him she was smiling at, it should be her husband at the table, not this stranger.

Quinn listened intently as they made small talk over the clink of cutlery against porcelain. The conversation flowed smoothly, as if they were good friends. Each time Alena laughed, Quinn felt a savage pang of betrayal as he brooded silently in the darkened crate. Worse, bound as he was, his elbows and knees had begun to ache, and he found himself raising one limb up at a time to give himself respite, taking great care not to overbalance. Crashing against the side of the crate and giving himself away would be catastrophic. The meal seemed to go on forever.

A part of him found it incomprehensible that his first reaction was to avoid being detected, to not have to feel the shame of a stranger seeing what his wife had turned him into. A little voice told him that he should be making noise: Alena had to be made to understand that she'd crossed the line, inviting a man into their house, having dinner, talking, as if they were on....

Quinn gasped, trying to supress the thought even as it entered his head: as if they were on a date. The implications were dreadful, that Alena had invited someone from the club back home for a dinner date and then... what? She had made sure that Quinn had seen the lingerie, the way she looked in her leather skirt and her blouse, the long, tumbling blonde locks, the radiant smile. His achingly beautiful, sexy wife had made every effort to look absolutely stunning tonight, but, he realised, not for her husband.

The scrape of plates brought him brutally back to the present.

"That was lovely Alena, thank you."

"I do try to make an effort."

"Let me tidy up."

"No, sit there. I'll deal with the leftovers."

Quinn heard more plate scraping, then the sound of footfalls on the carpet. His wife was tidying up; what came next? What was she going to do now? How could he stop this? He could gurgle his safeword, but that would mean exposing his presence to Alena's guest, humiliating himself utterly. He had to find a way to get her attention. He had to stop all this, now.

A pair of high heels appeared in front of the crate, shockingly close. No, he thought, Alena, please, don't.

His wife crouched down, and Quinn heard the rattling of the latch. The gate swung open. Before he could move, a plate appeared in front of him, containing the remains of the meal from the table.