Alena's Game Ch. 13

"That's right," Alena murmured, "Now you can put the blindfold on."

I didn't move, captivated by the little red light. It wasn't green, so it wasn't filming, but it was powered up.

"Blindfold," Alena reminded me, firmly.

I looked at her, pleading for her to let me speak.

"You look like you have a question."

I nodded emphatically, glad to have the luxury of responding with a yes or a no without needing to speak.

"I'm sure you do, but I have a question too," Alena purred.

She grinned at me, but not a welcoming grin of amusement. There was something dark and feral in her expression now, an underlying lust surfacing in her as she manoeuvred me until she had me just where she wanted me: naked, on camera.

"I don't care about your question, but here's mine. What... part... of... blindfold... did you not understand?"

The way she stared me down, implacable in her ornate mask, told me I had no chance of avoiding what she had planned for me. Beneath the mask, her soft lips curled into a wicked, sexy smile. It was that image that stayed with me as I slipped on my blindfold and the world went black.

"Finally."

I heard movement and then the tapping of fingers on the keyboard.

"So, you've worked out the camera, and the fact that we are both masked. You can see that I've taken measures to hide our identities, and now you're wondering what's next, aren't you?"

I nodded.

"The big question is who is on the other end of the camera, isn't it?"

I nodded again, vigorously.

"You're probably working through the possibilities right now, aren't you? Whether it's just recording for me to play back later, or whether I'm connecting a session to let someone else see what I'm about to do to you?"

I nodded again, needing desperately to ask my questions, but it was clear that Alena wasn't intending to grant me an opportunity to talk.

"I can see how much you're struggling with this, which makes what I'm about to do so much better for me. I want to see you squirm. The camera wants to see you squirm. Who else?"

Alena paused as if waiting for me to answer, which of course, I was forbidden to do.

"It could be a friend," she mused, "Or it could be some of the women I've been talking to on the forums. It's easy to imagine that a particular rite of passage would be to show the community what you had turned your husband into. Do you think that's happening here? Do you think I watched a dozen videos just like this one before I finally committed to joining the sisterhood by producing one of my own?"

Alena sounded like she was smiling now, but her voice was becoming hoarse, signalling her growing arousal at having me dangling at her whim.

"Can you imagine me looking at women turning their husbands into slaves, thinking that maybe I could do that too? Sitting in the dark, eyes glued to the screen as I brought myself to orgasm watching women subjugating the men they loved."

Alena was revealing something new and terrifying to me, and I realised just how much my goose was cooked. She meant to break me, on camera in front of an audience. I wanted so desperately to be allowed to speak, to tell her not to do it, not to humiliate me so publicly in front of strangers on the internet, but the deeper in I descended, the harder my cock became, until I was throbbing with need. Blindfolded, with my other senses heightened, I could feel the dampness of precum oozing from my tip and dribbling down my shaft.

"You're so afraid of this, aren't you," my wife whispered, her voice ethereal in my blindness, "But so very desperate to succumb to whatever I choose to do to you."

The tip of a finger dabbled into the slick stream emerging slowly from my tip and I felt the exquisite agony of my precum being massaged in tiny, gentle circles over the swollen purple head of my manhood. I gasped at the pleasure.

"Quiet now, we're rolling. Kneel."

The tingling sensation resumed in my genitals and I sank at once to my knees. I heard the sound of a zip and then the rustle of fabric. A hand rested on my chest and then I felt Alena's bodyweight in my lap, the friction of her skin on mine, and realised that my wife had stripped herself naked.

I kept my hands behind my head, focusing intently on my wife's signals. I didn't want to make an error; she had me exactly where she wanted me, and any mistake could have devastating consequences. I felt the soft warmth of Alena's lips on mine as she slid her body up my lap. The tip of my cock pressed gently against the soft skin of her tummy, making me pulse and twitch.

"You need this?" she whispered, hungrily, then gave me another peck on the lips.

I nodded.

"Will you do anything for me?"

I nodded again, and was rewarded with another kiss. My groin ached for her touch.

"Yes," she mused, "I think you'll do anything I want by the time we're through."

I felt her rock her hips, rubbing the skin of her tummy against my tip, teasing me with the friction. The device was sending pulses of electricity deep into my core, teasing my scrotum and prostate with the constant alternation of delicious, buzzing tension and then relaxation, the muscles in my groin taken out of my control and placed in hers. Alena kissed me again and the sensations became stronger. I groaned.

Alena got up, leaving me abruptly bereft of contact, and I was caught in the fear that my groan had displeased her. I clamped my mouth closed.

"Oh, don't do that. I need that mouth. Don't worry about making sounds, either. I accept that it's beyond your ability to control. Like so much of your body is about to become out of your ability to control."

I felt her finger pressing on my chin and I opened my mouth. My lips were rewarded with soft, moist contact as she pressed her pussy to my face. The device surged, sending an intense shudder down through my shaft into my body, but I needed no prompting. I opened my mouth and plunged my tongue deep inside my wife's dripping entrance, feeling her shudder in bliss as I penetrated her.

I tongued her as deeply as I could, riding the waves of pleasure the device was giving me. It felt so alien, yet I was responding to it, my arousal peaking with each surge and then dissipating after, as if I was receiving steady, languid attention from Alena's lips around my shaft. My wife had succeeded in automating that process, delegating the task of teasing and toying with her husband to a machine. She was free to be pleasured without having to bother herself with any such administrative details.

The waves halted and I paused, my tongue still deep inside my wife.

"Work it out."

Puzzled, I withdrew and then traced the tip of my tongue up through her folds until I found the gossamer thinness of her clit hood. I pressed my tongue against her, feeling the firm nub of her engorged clitoris beneath, and was rewarded with an abrupt surge of pleasure that nearly tipped me over the edge. I moaned against her flesh and felt her quiver in response.

"See? Whatever I feel, you feel."

I sucked at her nub and felt an answering throb in my loins as the device rewarded me. Alena had calibrated my responses now, knowing how far to go to get what she wanted without risking me ejaculating spontaneously, as I had nearly done in the restaurant. I worked fervently between my wife's legs, taking my time, alternating whenever the device told me to, feeling my body respond to the pleasures I was giving the woman standing over me. Blindfolded, in the quiet, I became attuned to the smell of her, the taste, the touch.

My cheeks were running with her moisture as I felt her reach behind my head and entwine my fingers with hers, keeping my hands firmly in place while she began to direct my face where she needed it. All the while, I imagined the thumb of her other hand poised on the little stud of my remote control, carefully calibrating my responses to her needs.

I learned the rhythm that she expected, plunging deep and then pulling back to nuzzle her clit. Alena was skilful in her use of the controls, never needing to do more than hint now with a subtle surge or gradual lessening of the waves of sensation washing through my groin. I had become strangely accustomed to it, attuned to her delicate control, pleasing her as she wanted to be pleased.

"Uh... that's good," she breathed, her voice soft from high above me.

I imagined her standing there, naked but for the mask that shielded her identity, gently adjusting the little black cylinder in her hand as strangers looked on, demonstrating the delicate level of control she had established over her husband. I knew that the purpose of the device was to bring pleasure to her, and as I continued to sink into a moist, scent-laden haze of blissful submission between my wife's legs, I accepted the fact that Alena was unlikely to reward me for my efforts. My only reward was the privilege of immersing myself in her crotch, giving her everything that she needed.

I began to drift, maintained by my wife on the edge of climax so expertly and for so long, that time ceased to pass for me. The device surged, I redoubled my efforts; the device waned, and I alternated my attentions. I was aware of a heavy, husky sound far above me and I was conscious of Alena building up to climax. The device slackened, signalling that I should part her inner lips and seek out her inner moisture with my tongue.

I wormed my way as deeply as I could into her body, and was rewarded with a pulse of constriction around my tongue as her pussy gripped me, signalling more. My own desire surged, my awareness having long since merged the device's stimulations with the feeling of my own muscles and manhood twitching and dancing. I felt as if I was able to work up to my own spectacular release just through my throbbing cock's motions as it danced and weaved through the air. I needed no stimulus to achieve orgasm, my body had merged with my wife's, such was the control the device gave her over me. When she came, my climax would follow.

Alena grasped my fingers tightly in hers, burying my face into her groin. She began to emit a high, keening sound and I felt her need as she ground her crotch against me. I lapped at her furiously, nuzzling her clit, subsumed in her juices, riding the same towering wave.

Except mine never came. Alena severed the connection between us, leaving me suddenly, stunningly bereft as I felt her walls clench in the throes of her own powerful orgasm. I licked furiously, desperately, signalling my insatiable desire for my own orgasm, but I just pushed my wife further, until she was mewling and gasping, driven at last to rip her groin away from me. I heard her breathing raggedly and could feel the trembling in her hand as she clutched the back of my head. I wanted to reach out and pull her down onto my lap, position her over my rock-hard manhood and push up into her waiting darkness. Just one thrust was all I needed to finally crash over the edge into a glorious orgasm.

"Please," I cried out, "Please."

I didn't care about the no talking rule, my mind was empty, save for one burning thought. My cock had never felt so hard, painful now with the rush of blood to it.

"Really?"

"Yes, I need... please, please," I begged, lost in repetition, feeling the dwindling of hope.

This was what Alena had wanted, to reduce her husband to a mindless, blabbering toy, begging to be used, streamed live to an audience. It was her crowning achievement and my ultimate humiliation. I couldn't stop, I debased myself further.

"I'm your toy," I whined, "You wanted it. I'm your toy."

My last shred of self-respect fell away, and with it any hope of ever re-establishing parity with my wife. She had proven herself to be stronger, smarter and more resourceful. I accepted it now, that I wasn't her equal, that I was just a worm in her presence. All the things she had done to me, all the pushing and training, finally crystallised in my mind. I had confessed it at dinner, but now she had embedded it in my brain. I was her toy, I was always going to be her toy. Any thought of escape it, or changing it, of ever being allowed my freedom, was erased.

The device started again. I felt a hand on my slick cheek.

"Good toy. It seems like it's finally sunk in."

I felt the weight of her body on my lap and was suddenly surrounded by her arms as she pressed her body against me. My cock nestled in the gap between us, her breasts squashed divinely against my chest. I dared not remove my hands from my head. I dared not move at all.

"Toys obey their owners."

I felt her rise up on her haunches.

"Your owner wants you use you again."

I felt the hot wetness of her pussy lips touch the tip of my cock. It took all my resolve to not lift my hips and buy myself inside her.

"Do you think toys have orgasms?"

I groaned, sure in the expectation that her pleasure did not entail my pleasure, but I wasn't able to work out how. My head was filled with thick fog, I couldn't think. It was as if Alena had succeeded in wiping my mind clean of any thoughts other than of her body and the way it would feel.

Alena pushed down, taking me into her. She was frictionless, and the action of parting her lips with my tip released her pent up juices to coat my needy cock in a sheen of her moisture. She stopped halfway and squeezed my rigid shaft with her muscles, making my cock twitch powerfully in answer. Alena withdrew and for a moment I was overcome with the anguished notion that she had done her bit, reminding me what it felt like to be inside my sexy wife's delicious body, and now she would leave me with that memory as she basked in her own afterglow.

But Alena pushed back down onto me again, not far, angling her hips to direct my head over her g-spot. I felt her quiver and I heard a low moan close to my ear. She began to bob up and down on me, the device maintaining the same steady cadence so that as it swelled to maximum, Alena pushed down onto me, and as it ebbed, she also withdrew. Working together, my wife and the device brought me to the edge of ecstasy and then denied me, over and over.

Alena was taking her time, breathing huskily into my ear as she used my cock to stimulate that most sensitive area inside her. I groaned in need and frustration, which only seemed to drive my wife to thrust harder, changing the angle of her hips to force me against her little spot as she slid down me. But the motions were too small, tormenting me with enough friction to fill me with an unquenchable need, but never deep enough to give me the sensation I required. I realised that Alena was masturbating herself with my cock, gradually approaching a second orgasm.

I felt her walls begin to quiver and pulse as she built up to climax, but her motions were still not enough to push me over the edge. I needed her to drop all the way down onto me, burying my manhood deep inside her, or I needed her to work my remote control, turning me up to maximum, letting me abandon myself in the heat of ecstasy, joining my wife in a synchronous, shattering climax.

But my wife did neither of those things. She held her pace, taking me inside her in half-strokes as she began to gyrate and groan. Her intentions were clear: she was going to extract one more orgasm from my tortured cock, and I was certain she would call that enough. I felt her clench me tightly, tipping over her edge, and it sent an irresistible spike of pleasure down through my cock and directly into my brain. I made a mistake.

Or rather, my body made a mistake. My mind had turned to mush, and I was no longer forming coherent thoughts. I felt her cum and I lifted my hips, pushing up to bury myself into her, in one quick, violent stroke. I felt the surge of friction, the tightening of my balls, the edge of orgasm, and then the most violent jolt of pain I had ever experienced.

Alena had wrapped her arms around my head, and was bucking and heaving now, gushing wetly over my legs, as my body seemed to lock solid. I recoiled, pulling almost all the way out of her, and the pain vanished. Alena dug her nails into my back.

"Surprise," she growled, predatorially.

What had she done to me? My mind lapsed into whiteness and my cock took over, rabid with need, and I drove up into her again, reaching the edge and... searing pain through my genitals arrested me and I recoiled again.

"Learning yet?"

Alena had done something to my body, she had some diabolical power to punish me for my need to fuck her. Then it came to me: the pad she had placed on the root of my shaft, the two squares. They were electrical contacts, closing a circuit when they came into contact with my wife's flesh, harmless to her, but triggering unspeakable punishment for me for the crime of pushing myself into her. Incredibly, I felt her walls contract around me again, shivering as she rode her orgasm, powered now by the pain it was causing me.

But I had reached a place, a high plateau, from which I could look down at myself and my wife, our bodies slick with sweat and entwined on the foam matting. That we were in the office, or that the camera was watching us, none of it mattered anymore. I drove up into her again and this time I was waiting for the pain. I rode the surge of agony as I buried myself inside her to my root, pulling back and then slamming upwards again, violently, without mercy, feeling her body bounce and jig due to the power of my thrusts.

Each time, indescribable pain surged through my groin, but each time, incandescent pleasure. I thrust and thrust until my guts spasmed and I finally felt the rolling tidal wave of ecstasy I had been waiting so long for. I orgasmed hard inside the sopping tightness of my wife's vagina. Alena was cumming again, or perhaps she had never stopped, milking me as I emptied my tortured balls deep into her. The pain was constant, all consuming, but I couldn't move, bound in place by the twin shackles of agony and ecstasy, as I pumped and pumped my seed into my wife.

At last, Alena pulled up and the pain ceased. My world seemed to contract, and I felt myself tumbling backwards, sprawling out across the foam matting, my legs twisted beneath me. I felt my wife lift herself off my legs and heard her stand up. There was a rattle of fingers on the keyboard and then silence. Cool fingers stroked my skin, and I felt her body press against mine.

"Enough," she breathed, close to me, "Good boy."

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[Next chapter: Alena is excitedly planning a visit to the Lost and Found on her own to meet a new friend, a male friend. Quinn's imagination runs wild: is she going to exercise her right to her own sexual freedom, or does she have something else planned?

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