Alena's Game Ch. 17

It was a group picture of my wife and five other people: four men and one other woman, smiling for the camera, huddled close. They were all about our age or younger, and at least two of the men had the kind of good looks that I knew Alena would find enticing. She sent another picture later of them all sitting down to dinner at a nice restaurant, with the message, 'Hope you're being a good boy for me. How is your dinner? Send me a pic.'

I noticed that she had her arm around the shoulders of one of the men. I looked at her face, trying to interpret her expression. I could clearly see that the man she was next to was enjoying himself, basking in the attentions of my wife. Reluctantly, from my place on the floor, I sent her a picture of my cleaned-out bowl.

Alena kept me updated on proceedings through the next few days. I tried to call her a few times but she always let it go unanswered. The fact that she would post a picture only moments later of herself in a short skirt and tight top, posing in a lecture theatre or at lunch or wherever she was made it clear to me that I wasn't allowed any contact with my wife. She was simply ignoring my calls while sending me evidence of her pretty face grinning sexily as if she had no cares in the world.

Thursday night came around and she hadn't done anything more than send selfies to me. Some of the selfies were group shots, and I could see the same man appearing time and again, each time a little more comfortable in my wife's presence. I had begun to let myself hope that she was having second thoughts, that now she was confronted with the opportunity to take this final step, she had realised it wasn't what she wanted after all. Then she sent me a video.

The video started with my wife in a bath robe in her hotel room, smiling at me.

"Hi," she said, waving at the camera. "It's Thursday night now, and we're all flying back home tomorrow. I've had such a good time!"

She was moving around the room, tilting the camera so I could see the bed. Alena had laid a sexy little black dress out on it.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm going out to dinner now and I'm going to take four videos. This is the first. I hope you like what you see."

With that, Alena perched her phone on a table and stepped back. She smiled sweetly and opened her robe, to reveal herself clad only in her new lingerie. She let the robe fall to the floor and bent over the bed to pick up her dress. My eyes followed the contours of her body, the curve of her bottom in her tiny g-string, the way her basque accentuated her soft cleavage. She turned back to the camera and stepped into her dress, zipping it up and then doing a twirl for me. Finally, she slid her feet into her tall stiletto heels, the ones she had forced me to lick.

I watched, aghast, as my wife struck a pose for the camera, pouting sexily. Then the video ended, leaving me reeling. I felt betrayed, torn with jealousy that my wife had gone to the considerable effort of turning herself into a bedroom fantasy for some stranger in a far distant place. In desperation, I called her but she didn't answer. I waited a full minute before I had to give into the urge to try and call her again, with the same result. How could I talk her out of this if she wasn't even going to let me speak to her?

I roamed the house, wallowing in misery. For some reason, I was naked, as per the house rules, and had been following all her instructions on how to eat and where to sit. It seemed ridiculous to me now, playing by her rules while she was dressing up to please another man. I realised what a fool I had been. I needed to make my wife understand that she couldn't do this to me, couldn't simply expect me to roll over and comply with her wishes. I was her husband, not her pet: I deserved more respect. Desperate to speak to her, I tried her number again, but to no avail.

The second video arrived, interrupting the flow of my thoughts. I had been in hell since the first video, spending a couple of hours churning in dreadful anticipation of what my wife would do next. The phone notification seemed to be leering at me, daring me to open the video and see what she'd done. Eventually, the temptation to know overwhelmed my fear of finding out, and I sat down on the carpet in front of the couch and played it.

The angle was odd, until I understood what I was looking at. Alena had propped her phone up on a table so she could film herself. From the way it was framed, I guessed that she was recording this secretly.

I could see my wife, sitting at the table, drinking a glass of wine, looking over the top of the phone and talking to someone on the opposite side of the table. They were making conversation; I could hear a male voice talking about the conference. I watched as she reacted to his comments, smiling and laughing in an easy manner. Every once in a while, she would glance down quickly, looking into the camera lens, but her expression gave nothing away.

"It's hard to talk to you like this," I heard her say, "Why don't you come and sit over this side?"

"Okay."

I watched Alena's eyes track the movements of her companion, and then she shuffled her chair to the side. A man appeared in the frame, and I recognised him from the photos.

"It's a shame we're wrapping up tomorrow," he said, his eyes on my wife.

Alena nodded. "Back to home, back to work," she replied.

"This has been one of the most interesting conferences I have ever attended," the man continued.

"Why's that? New research?"

"Oh no. Nothing like that. It's the company."

Alena giggled, drinking some of her wine and smiling coquettishly at him over her glass.

"Any company in particular?" she enquired, innocently.

"Your company."

Alena set her glass down carefully.

"Ah, but what would my husband think, if he heard you saying that?" she said, "What would your wife think?"

It was the man's turn to laugh now. "Oh, what goes on tour stays on tour, don't you agree?"

Alena leaned towards him. I could see she was making killer eye contact. My heart was threatening to burst from my chest.

"I tend to agree," she murmured, "What are you proposing?"

I saw her eyes glance towards her companion's lips. It was all the cue he needed. In horror, I watched him lean forward, his face close to my wife. Alena paused for a moment, then glanced down at the camera, fixing me with a cool, calm look. She kissed him and the video ended.

I sat in the carpet, phone in my hand, unable to move, numb with shock. My eyes were fixed on the screen, looking at the two entries my unfaithful wife had sent me: video one and video two. I knew what video three would show: Alena had told me, weeks ago. She wanted me in the room, to watch her being fucked. I had no doubt that my cruel, beautiful wife would spare me none of the details.

At some point hours later, way past the point that my bottom had gone numb from sitting there on the floor, naked, the phone vibrated again. My hand seemed to move of its own accord, clicking on the notification: video four.

Where was video three?

I let it play. The camera angle suggested that Alena was holding the phone, panning around the room. I recognised her hotel room from earlier, but now, when she came into frame, reclining on the bed, she looked dishevelled with her auburn hair in disarray around her face. The bed was messy, with sheets bunched up under her. She was still wearing her lingerie, like some imitation of a fallen angel.

"Here we are, hon. The end of the night. I know you're wondering where the third video is. Yes, I took it but I want us to watch it together. It'll be better that way."

Alena pushed a stray lock of hair from her face and stretched.

"Anyway, that's it. I just thought I'd say goodnight."

The video ended. My phone fell through my slack fingers, bumping onto the carpet. I laid back and stared up at the ceiling. I knew why she hadn't sent the third video, why she wanted to be with me when she played it. It would be the ultimate thrill for her, watching me suffer as I saw her cheat on me with another man. Worse, she would be able to replay that video whenever she wanted, either in private, or summoning me back to watch it with her. She would be able to relive the moment and revive my anguish whenever she liked. She now had the power to break me, at the touch of a button.

---

I spent most of Friday staring into space. I had barely slept, curled up on my bed in the silent house. There were things I should have been doing, but I'd called in sick and spent the day meandering naked from room to room. I mixed myself a protein shake into my bowl and put it on the floor. It had been most of a week now, and the shame of eating on my hands and knees had faded into a background awareness that I was not allowed the same privileges as the people around me.

I didn't bother dressing either, sitting on my cushion, the only piece of comfort Alena had allowed me, looking through the sliding doors at our back garden. All the time, my thoughts kept turning back to my wife, the way she had looked in the fourth video: wild, unkempt, tired, and something more: sated.

Alena had satisfied herself, she had scratched her itch, and had looked into the phone lens like a woman who had gotten what she needed. The video showed no sign of her companion, the mystery man from her conference. Alena must have convinced him to leave afterwards. It was bitter consolation that at least she didn't want to fall asleep in his arms.

By five thirty, I was checking the flight tracker every few minutes, watching her plane approach. Alena had told me that she would get a cab home and that I should stay put, so now I was waiting and pacing. Alena had pushed too far, taking what she wanted to take, opening up our marriage just because she wanted to feel what it was like. I wavered between jealousy of the stranger receiving the sexual attention that should have been for me, to anger at my wife for browbeating me into submission, to anger at myself for breaking down and letting her walk all over me.

By six o'clock I made myself another shake and knelt down to lap it out of the bowl, the weight of my cage hanging loosely between my legs as a constant reminder of how my wife had rendered me impotent: while she was free to have sex with whoever she wanted, she had turned me into a sexless eunuch servicing her needs, castrating me with a little steel cage.

Somewhere in the back of the mind, I was raging at myself for simply following her instructions, even though she would never find out if I ate at the table, or sat on the couch or, heaven forbid, dress myself. It was as if my wife had managed to insert herself into my head as the angel on the other shoulder, constantly reminding me to follow my instructions.

My phone buzzed and I scrambled to check messages. There was a single word from Alena: 'landed'. I huddled up next to my empty bowl on the kitchen floor, counting the minutes until it buzzed again: 'on my way'. I closed my eyes, letting the fatigue of my restless night and the endless, torturous stress that Alena was inflicting wash over me. The hours of waiting and wondering were now minutes, ticking down to the inevitable moment that she would open the front door and I would have to deal with what she'd done.

I heard the front door shake. Then there was the scraping of a key, and I realised that I hadn't unlocked the door since yesterday, hiding inside the house. The door opened and I heard the click of heels on the wooden floorboards.

"Hello?"

Out of spite, I didn't respond, feeling a certain pathological glee when she called out again, but this time with a slight uncertainty in her voice.

"Where are you?"

Yes, I thought, maybe the house is empty, maybe I saw the video and left. Maybe you're all alone. The click of heels grew louder.

"There you are."

Alena's voice was so close that I jumped. I twisted round from my place on the floor to see my wife standing in the middle of the kitchen in a blouse and skirt like the last time I had seen her, when I had dropped her off at the airport. The only difference were the four inch stiletto heels she was wearing: Alena meant business.

"Sorry, did I interrupt dinner?" She asked, breezily, grinning at me. "I ate on the plane, so it's good you fed yourself."

I didn't reply.

"Aren't you going to get up?"

I stared at her pretty face for a few moments and then reluctantly got to my feet.

Alena stepped towards me, arms extended to give me a hug, but I didn't reciprocate. She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed her body against mine, but my hands remained steadfastly by my sides. I was in no mood for mind games. I was at the end of my tether.

"Not happy to see me? You must have missed me surely? I missed you."

"You didn't appear to miss me," I replied, frostily, "Quite the opposite."

To my astonishment, Alena merely shrugged. "If that's your attitude then I guess I should go unpack," she said.

I felt the anger boiling up in me. I was furious at the flippant way Alena had responded, without the slightest hint of contrition. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"So, you're intending on staying?" I hissed.

This stopped Alena in her tracks. She turned and stared at me, eyes wide.

"It's been a long week," she said, each word clear and frostily precise, "And I was really looking forward to coming home to you and giving you your reward. I was really looking forward to it."

She folded her arms over her chest.

"But it seems you aren't."

Alena was signalling that I was on thin ice, but now that I'd started, I kept going.

"I was looking forward to spending time with my loving wife, but after last night I can't seem to locate her."

Alena faltered, and for the first time in a long time, I saw the uncertainty in her eyes.

"I'm right here," she replied.

"Where is the third video?"

"On my phone."

"I want to see it."

"You'll have to wait."

"I want to fucking see it," I growled, "Now."

Alena wrinkled her nose, a reaction that in other times would have made her look adorable. Now, however, it simply added fuel to my fire.

"You will have to wait," Alena replied, calmly, annunciating each word, "I'm not ready."

We glared at each other, neither one wanting to be the one to break first. It felt childish, but that was what my wife had reduced me to. My capacity for rational thought had been eroded by a week of messages from my wife chipping away at my self-respect.

"I was going to do this later, but maybe you need to do it now," Alena sighed, as if dealing with a petulant child.

"Do what?"

Alena pulled out a stool from the breakfast bar and patted it. "You may sit," she said.

I glared at her, fuming.

"Or stand, then," she continued, "Whatever you want. But I'm going to sit. It's been a long day."

Alena pulled out another stool and flopped down gratefully, leaving me standing next to her.

"Remember when we discussed my fantasies? Do you remember that?"

She was staring at me again, eyes wide, waiting for me to acknowledge her question. I remained silent.

"Oh, well, let's take it that you do. And then last week, when you asked why I was packing the new lingerie, and I told you what I was planning on doing with it, and I asked if you were okay with me doing it. What did you say?"

I glared at her.

"You said okay, didn't you? So, that means I went to the conference with your blessing."

"Hardly."

"No, really. That's the thing with you. You think it's all me, pushing this agenda of mine, but you could have stopped it at any time you wanted. All you had to say was that you're done."

Alena's face softened and her shoulders drooped.

"You never ever said you were done. Each step I took, you took it too. You had a choice, Quinn, you still have a choice. Here's a reality check for you, and I want the fucking truth. Did you follow all my house rules when I was away?"

Alena glared at me and for the first time, I saw proper anger in her eyes. Why the hell was she angry at me? I wasn't the one who had cheated.

"Did you?" she snapped, her tone now sharp and accusatory.

"I did. I followed all your house rules."

Alena waved her hands in the air, frustrated. "Why?"

"Because you told me to follow the fucking rules!"

"No, because you wanted to follow the rules!" Alena seethed, "Everything I do, every situation I put you in, you take whatever I dish out. Why is that?"

Her blue eyes glinted menacingly. "Answer me. Why?"

I had no easy answer, once again rendered speechless by my wife. I watched her expression change again as she began to rein herself back in, getting her temper under control.

"It's because you want to be controlled. Even back at the start of all this, with a simple exercise in denial, you went into it feet first, pulling me along. Now you've taught me to love taking control and having power over you, how to get turned on by making you dance to my tune. It's such an amazing rush. I have never felt anything like it, watching you do those things just because I tell you to. I can't describe how hot you make me when you do that. And the shock to me is that deep down I'm actually wired like that and I never knew, never even suspected, until you came up with that stupid list."

Alena drew in a steadying breath before continuing.

"I can't get enough of it. You want to know why I made those videos? I couldn't help myself, I knew they would torment you but I couldn't stop, because it felt so fucking good. You think I'm the one calling the shots? Really? Take a good look Quinn, look at me. Look at who I am now, what you've turned me into. You're the one who's brainwashed me, okay? I used to be your wife, but you've turned me into your, uh...."

"Mistress," I said, flatly.

Alena nodded. "And what do you think I did when I realised that was where you were heading? I'll tell you. I did a massive amount of reading. I needed to understand what that lifestyle would mean for us both, so I knew what I was committing to. Did any of that even cross your mind?"

Alena unzipped a pocket in her suitcase and pulled something out. She dropped it onto the breakfast bar in front of me.

"I was going to come through the door, and kiss you and cuddle you because you mean more to me than anything, and then talk gently to you about this because I think it's finally the proper time and I think it's what you need from me," she said, indicating the strip of leather she had deposited on the polished stone surface, "But now I guess you need to think real hard about what you actually fucking want and if we're finally at the point of seeing eye to eye on what we both actually need, or whether this entire fucking journey has been a complete waste of time."

Alena got up off her stool and began to wheel her suitcase towards the bedroom.

"Come find me when you've made up your mind," she snapped, "One way or another."

Then she was gone. I looked down at the item she had left behind. It was a collar. I knew what it meant; I knew what Alena was asking. I reached out and picked it up, feeling the soft leather between my fingers. Alena was offering herself to me, to become my fantasy, forever. Despite my anger at her, I had to admit to myself that she had assumed correctly: after all these years, we were finally seeing eye to eye.

---

The light had faded from the sky and I was left in the gloom, leaning up against the breakfast bar watching the dusk settle on the garden, hearing deep silence in the house. I had the collar in my hand. I was at war with myself.

One the one hand, I knew that if I put the collar on, I would be reducing myself to my wife's plaything. I would be giving her permission to do with me as she pleased, to shut me up in my crate, to lock up my manhood, to humiliate me, to cane me, to make me scrape and serve. I would be giving away exclusive access to her body and allowing her to see other men if that's what she wanted. I would be giving away my position as her husband, along with my self-respect, to become Alena's toy.