Alena's Game Ch. 06

[Author's note: if you don't like to read about female domination, 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 revealed a new side of herself, tying Quinn up and shaving him before teasing him with her body. Quinn is beginning to realise how much it's turning her on to subjugate him, being forced to listen while she brings herself to orgasm over his tied, blindfolded body. Their relationship is changing faster than ever]

---

ANYTHING, ALL THE TIME

Quinn took a swig from his water bottle as he settled into his chair. Cassie thought of it as his chair now. Quinn was a creature of habit, always standing as he waited for her in the reception area, always silent as they walked to the meeting room, always taking the same chair. It had given her an insight into the man, into the reasons why Alena had been able to do the things she had done to him, and why he had let her.

The water bottle was a new addition, but Quinn was talking a lot now. He needed the water.

"Before we start," Cassie began, "I just wanted to cover off something from our previous session, something that I have been mulling over all week."

"I am honoured that my unworthy predicament is on your mind, Mistress."

Cassie watched as he grinned at her. It was a healthy sign, she thought, showing a playful willingness to mix their roles in the therapy session with their very different roles on the outside. It showed that Quinn was beginning to apply a separation again between his everyday life as a middle-aged lawyer and his other life as a dominatrix's submissive. It was a line that Alena had blurred purposefully, transitioning him into a twenty-four by seven lifestyle where he was permanently obedient to his wife in all aspects of their relationship.

It had worked for them, making them both blissfully happy in their little secret bubble, until the world had intervened and the bubble burst, unravelling their life much faster than either Alena or Quinn could adapt to. Alena, Cassie realised, never meant harm to come to Quinn, but she had inflicted devastating unintentional pain on him, pulling him in so very close and then leaving him dangling at the end, rudderless with nowhere to go. Quinn had been abandoned, a masochist submissive without a mistress to love, so that when Alena reached the end and lost her fight with the illness that claimed her life, she had very nearly dragged Quinn down with her.

Cassie's heart sank when she thought about it that way, making it harder to do what they were now doing, to unpick such a bright and unique thing, to provide some separation again where neither Alena nor Quinn had wanted it. But equally, Alena would never have wanted Quinn to hurt like he was hurting now.

"Going back to what you were telling me last week, is it fair to say that Alena had stepped up the pace?" Cassie asked.

"I suppose," Quinn nodded, "She certainly rattled through bondage, shaving and blindfolds pretty quickly."

"So, by that stage, do you still think you were both working your way through a list of fantasies and fetishes to spice up your love life, or even at that early stage had Alena moved beyond that?"

"I have asked myself that a hundred times. Really, I don't believe she was ever interested in the list, Cassie."

"The denial aspect came out strongly, right from the start."

"And continues," Quinn replied, indicating his crotch, his manhood imprisoned by his wife in a steel cage that he had been forced to wear ever since.

"But," he continued, "I think she was initially just looking for something to fend me off with. You have to admit, denial is a pretty neat way of stalling the intimacy that the list was supposed to be fuelling."

Cassie laughed, refreshed by Quinn's ability to apply perspective on a very personal matter.

"But, I think, something happened," Quinn continued, "She got into it. A little door opened in her head and she stepped through, at the same time that another door opened in mine. We crossed paths on our journey and the rest is history."

"And Alena diverted from the list into something of her own devising."

"I guess so. I was left with my choices in the spreadsheet as a default consent list. I always had my safeword, the nuclear option to stop it all, but she never once pushed me so far or so quickly that I had to use it. She was very subtle in how much she gave and how much she took, stretching and straining me little by little until one day I looked back at the journey and saw that she had succeeded in turning me into something else entirely."

"So you didn't feel forced into it?"

"No," Quinn replied, "More like I was being channelled, like she was unearthing some unknown part of me."

"Unearthing or creating?"

"Now that's the big question, isn't it?" Quinn replied. "Looking back now over it all, I'm sure that it was a choice, a change we both made to ourselves. It wasn't some predestined, genetic certainty."

"You both changed into something different to how you were?"

"I think we were quite ordinary people, but then we found this new life."

Quinn shrugged. "The fault," he continued, "Is not in our stars but in ourselves."

Quinn took another mouthful of water.

"Let me tell you about what she had planned next, how we, I guess, really started the transformation in our lives."

"Please do," Cassie replied, "Where did it start?"

"It started with dinner."

---

"I'll cook tonight. We have a lot to discuss."

Alena gave me a peck on the cheek as she headed out the door, grabbing her car keys. She was dressed smartly, in a skirt and a blouse with low heels.

"You look nice," I replied.

"Funding review. Any advantage I can get in front of the crusty old men."

Alena posed for me, hand on cocked hip, pouting sexily.

"So long as they don't go getting ideas," I said.

"Oh, it's all about giving them ideas, Quinn. The idea that if they clear my funding, we might be working a little closer together. We could be publishing joint papers, attending conferences together. Who knows what goes on at those conferences, once the sessions are done?"

Her eyes were sparkling with mischief even as her words stirred conflicting emotions in me. Alena slinked towards me and I slid my hands around her petite waist.

"Just be careful," I cautioned.

"Oh, honey, don't worry. I can handle myself. Nothing would happen that I didn't want to happen," she replied with a sly smile.

Then she kissed me. I felt her hands on my wrists and had the sudden flashback of being helpless and naked in front of her, bound to the chair last night. I don't know why, but the simple act of her wrapping her fingers around my wrists turned me on. I couldn't understand why I was reacting that way to her touch.

She broke off the kiss and pulled my arms gently up towards her face, thumbs smoothing the skin.

"How are they feeling?"

I looked down at my wrists. There were hints of purple under the skin.

"Sore, but okay. I'll live."

Alena kissed each wrist in return.

"I tied you loose enough. You shouldn't have struggled so much."

I hadn't expected that. I had expected an apology for hurting me, and instead I received an admonition for heaving and straining against my bonds as she tortured and teased me until I was unable to control myself.

"You mean I should have just sat back and accepted my fate?"

Her eyes shifted from my wrists to my face. I tried to read her expression, but she was curiously guarded.

"Yes, Quinn. It's going to be a lot easier in the long run."

Alena released my hands and turned to the door, the conversation over.

"We'll eat at seven. You'll be home by then."

"Yes," I replied to my wife's retreating back.

I had agreed, but it was a statement, not a question: Alena expected me home before seven. She closed the door and I was left in silence, my thoughts once again churning, like she had managed to leave me so many times in the last few weeks. This time, she had foreshadowed something else, a continuation of her little experiment with me. What did she mean by the long run? How much more did she want to do?

---

I got home just before seven to the delicious smell of dinner being prepared. I'd had a hell day at work as a case went against me, made worse by my inability to stop coming back to wondering about what Alena was planning. In retrospect, stress was her main tool in our games. She put me under stress, choosing not to blindside me but instead to hint and foreshadow until I was dedicating significant parts of each day to wondering about what my wife had planned for me next.

"That smells good," I called out, putting my bag down and emptying my pocket of car keys.

"Should be ready in two minutes. You have impeccable timing."

I entered the kitchen to see my wife, still in her skirt and blouse, pulling a casserole pot from the oven. Bending over, I was treated to a view of the way the tight material showed off the firm curves of her rear.

"You left me with the impression that I shouldn't be late."

Alena straightened, holding the pot in front of her with oven mitts. It was then that I noticed her height, that she was at eye level with me. As she passed me, I looked down. Alena had swapped her footwear, but not for something more comfortable and practical now she was no longer at work. She was wearing black stilettos with four-inch heels, balancing delicately as she took the casserole through to the dining table. I couldn't help myself as my eyes fell on the way the heels sculpted and toned her calves, the way the height made her hips wiggle as she walked.

"Dinner is served," she announced, glancing at me over her shoulder, auburn hair framing her pretty face.

She gave me a sexy little smile, having caught me admiring her, leaving me in no doubt that the game was on.

"Can you get a mat, hon? This is really hot."

I hurried to comply, fishing one out of the cupboard drawer and placing it in the centre of the table. As she placed the casserole down, I noticed that Alena had gone to some length to prepare dinner. She had put out two settings, with napkins, arranging the cutlery carefully. There was a decanter with red wine and the good glasses that we had been given as a wedding present. She had lit a candle.

"This looks lovely," I murmured.

"Glad that you appreciate the effort. I like to show you that I love you. Pour the wine?"

I filled our glasses as instructed. Alena was smiling at me now, her hand resting on the back of her chair. She was waiting for something. I looked at the table again and noticed that there was only one chair. The one I sat in was against the wall. I moved to get it.

"No need."

"Uh, I need to sit down."

"Do you?"

I stopped and turned to my wife, watching as she slid into her place, tucking her chair under her. She picked up her napkin and unfolded it into her lap, leaving me ignored and standing awkwardly across the table from her.

"How do I eat, Alena?"

"Standing, presumably. However you think best."

She rested her chin on her hand, watching me, studying my reactions.

"What's this all about?"

"Can't you guess?"

I felt foolish, standing next to the table while my wife sat. I watched as she crossed her legs in her new black stilettos. For some reason I found myself reacting to sight of her, and rather than her selfish behaviour being an annoyance, it was arousing me. Worse, looking into her eyes, I could see that she knew it.

"After last night, I did some more thinking," my wife said, "About the way you went along with the experiment. I think we both want to continue, correct?"

"Uh...," I faltered.

I was acutely aware of the imbalance in our positions, with my wife seated comfortably while making me stand.

"Do you want to serve? You're closest to the pot."

I hesitated, my eyes going from my wife's sexy little grin at putting me in this predicament, to the chair by the wall. I could see from the look on her face that she was enjoying every minute of this and it frustrated me. I had wanted a nice, simple dinner with my lovely wife after a hard day at work. Instead, she was setting me a test.

The worst part of it was that I felt myself stirring as I faltered beneath the steady gaze of her lovely blue eyes. There was a part of me that wanted to stand up for myself, take the chair, and be done, but there was an unfamiliar part of me that wanted to do what she told me to. Surprising myself, I did as I was asked and began to ladle out the casserole onto her plate and then my own. I stood in front of my dinner place, looking down at my plate and slowly picked up a fork. I skewered some of the chicken and brought it up to my mouth.

I could see my wife hadn't moved. She was watching me intently. My fork paused in front of my mouth.

"How is it?" she asked, smiling at me.

I took a bite and chewed.

"It's delicious."

"Good. I slaved. Have as much as you like, there's plenty."

With that, she started on her own plate, her attention fixed on her food now. I watched her eat, as I had done each night for all the years we had been together, the mundane normality of it all, but now feeling alien. By not allowing me to sit, Alena had introduced a demarcation between us. She had the right to continue to live her life as normal, but I sensed that my life was about to change.

"You're not eating," she chided, not looking up.

"I guess... uh... I'm just trying to work out what's going on, Alena."

"Me too."

I put my fork down. "I really don't understand."

"All you had to do was grab the other chair and sit down with me, as equals," Alena replied, "I wouldn't have stopped you. But you didn't. Instead, you did what I told you to do."

She took another mouthful of casserole and then a sip of wine, taking her time.

"I wanted to make a change, Quinn. I wanted to see how you would cope with having something taken away."

"Like sitting?"

"Yes, like sitting at the dinner table. After how you reacted in the denial exercise, I got to thinking about what you would do if other ordinary parts of your life became privileges instead of rights."

This irked me, and my mouth twisted. "If you think I'm going to give you oral just to earn the right to sit down at dinner, you're mistaken."

"Oh, no. This is completely separate to that. I'll bestow the privilege of sitting as and when I see fit, just to show you that I'm happy with you. That way, if we have dinner and you can see two chairs, you know that I'm pleased."

"But what about the denial?"

"You keep coming back to that. Is it a sore point?"

"It was torture," I hissed.

"It was on your list, though."

"I didn't... I thought...."

Alena laughed. "You thought you'd put me into denial? Really? Run me through how that was ever going to work, given that the reason you came up with the list in the first place was because we weren't having very much sex anymore."

Alena shrugged, her tone challenging me.

"Face it, Quinn, you came into this underprepared. You hadn't even really thought through the basics. You want sex but you know I can take it or leave it, so denial wouldn't have mattered to me. It might even have been a reprieve from your demands. You hadn't even factored that basic fact into your thinking, had you?"

"So why are you doing this?"

"The what? The chair or the experiment?"

"Both."

"Let's start with the chair then. It's because I want to have something that makes it clear to you that there's a difference between us."

"There's no difference between us, Alena."

Her smile faded and she leaned back in her chair.

"Really? Do you believe that? Looking back over the last few weeks, I've seen the opposite. We've had a separation between what I was allowed and what you were allowed and frankly, I was amazed at the way you embraced it, following all the rules that I set, putting me in a position that meant I got everything I asked for and you got nothing. It was a pretty powerful lesson."

"And what has that lesson taught you?" I asked, cautiously.

"That I need to, that you want me to, enforce the separation between us, the things that I can freely enjoy while you go without, like being able to sit at the dinner table. Like other things."

I stared at her but she didn't flinch or look away. This was the new Alena now, unafraid to meet me head on, challenging me to argue with her findings.

At last, I broke the silence. "What other things?"

Alena pursed her lips. "So, even with three weeks to do research of your own, you didn't go and try to learn about any of this?"

"I was too busy tiptoeing through the minefield that you'd laid around me."

"Which was my plan. Too late now."

"What's too late?"

"Researching. I'm going to forbid you to search any of this up, Quinn. I don't want you doing any pre-reading."

"That's really not fair."

"No, it's not fair. It's very unfair, putting me at a massive advantage. But you're going to do it, you're going to give me the head start I ask for. I don't want you to know what's coming next, hon. I think the last weeks have proved that this all goes a lot smoother when you're surprised."

I gaped at my wife, at the indifferent tone she had used to take away my basic rights. She had rescinded a key part of our marriage in just a few words.

"I can't understand this."

Alena's eyes shifted to my pants.

"I can't understand that," she commented, pointing at the swelling in my crotch, "But believe me, Quinn, I will. I'm going to get to the bottom of this. It's absolutely fascinating."

I looked down at the bulge in my pants. Despite what my wife had just done to me, my manhood was thick and engorged. The more unfair she was, the more unbalanced she made our relationship, the more it aroused me. It didn't make sense.

"It's going cold, Quinn," she said, picking up another mouthful of casserole, "Don't let it go to waste."

---

That night, in bed, I got another taste of the new world Alena was building for us. I had gotten myself ready for bed as normal, pulling on the usual baggy sleep shorts and t-shirt. I heard Alena moving around in the ensuite as I laid in bed, waiting. When the door opened, I had quite a surprise.

Alena stood in the doorway naked, her hair brushed back, a coy little smile on her face. She said nothing as she walked around the bed and slipped under the covers, snuggling up to me. I opened my mouth to speak, but she rested a finger on my lips until I relented, then replaced her finger with her mouth, kissing me hungrily.

I remained where I was, lying on my back, my hands by my sides, unsure of whether I was supposed to return the kiss, to hold her, to caress her bare skin, or wait for permission. She had removed my ability to ask. Alena broke off the kiss and smiled at me.

"Good boy," she cooed, "You're learning."

Her hand traced over my chest, down to my stomach, resting between my legs. I was already erect. As her fingers closed around my shaft, it was a mark of how much our positions had already begun to shift that I felt a nervous trepidation rather than pleasure at her touch. Was I supposed to have an erection, or was she going to punish me for it? Alena nuzzled my ear.

"Strip," she whispered.

I complied hurriedly, discarding my shorts and sleep shirt, lying there on my back again, naked under the covers. She pulled the sheet down, revealing my bare body. Her eyes traced over my skin as she bit her lip.

"Seeing you at dinner going along with it, that was so hot," she murmured, "I can't explain to you why, but it turned me on powerfully."