Alena's Game Ch. 17

On the other hand, as I contemplated the subjugation, the degradation of giving up even the fundamental right to have my wife to myself, I could feel the desire kindling in me. Like vertigo, there was a calm, insistent voice on my shoulder telling me to jump, to abandon myself to the ecstasy of freefall. To live not from day to day just getting older, I thought to myself with irony, but to finally, actually live like a falling star.

It had been hours since my wife had returned home, and I hadn't heard from her since. I knew she was expecting me in the bedroom, waiting for me to make up my mind. In the end, it came down to that look in her eyes, beyond all the cold indifference, the casual injustices, the teasing smiles. It was the thing she couldn't hide from me, showing me just how badly she needed this. We were the same, bound together, reliant on the other to fulfil our deepest needs.

My hands moved and I fastened her collar around my neck.

As soon as it was done, my hands sprang away, as if the leather had administered an electric shock to my fingertips. I twisted my neck, feeling the soft constriction of the leather against my skin. I drew myself upright. Steeling myself, I left the kitchen to go and find my wife.

The bedroom door was closed, and I approached silently, padding over the polished wood in bare feet. I went to turn the handle, but I hesitated, teetering now at the point of no return. I balled my hand into a fist instead and knocked on the door twice. There was silence, and then a muffled voice from the other side.

"Wait."

I could make out the sounds of movement, and a full minute went by until I heard, "Come in."

I opened the door and entered her bedroom. That's what it was now: her bedroom. I was only allowed in when invited.

The room was dark. In the gloom, I could barely make out the figure of my wife and the shape of the bed. She was standing in the middle of the floor in silence. I closed the door behind me and waited.

Alena approached me, a shadow in the darkness, and I felt cool fingertips on my chest. Her light touch traced up to my neck and when she made contact with the collar she stopped. I heard an intake of breath, and then the hand was withdrawn. Standing close to me, I could smell an unfamiliar scent in the room, an artificial tang. That was all I had to go on, that and whatever I could hear.

There was a jingling of metal on metal.

"Turn around. Put your arms behind your back."

I complied and waited. Alena slid something cold and hard over my wrist and I heard the clicking ratchet sound of handcuffs. I didn't move as she slid the free cuff over my other wrist, binding my hands behind my back.

"Turn around."

I turned to face the dark shape of my wife's body. Once again, the soft hand touched my chest, but this time sliding down, over my stomach and between my legs, cupping the cage that trapped my manhood. She weighed it in her hand and I knew that she would now know that I was rigid inside my little steel prison. I felt her fumble and there was a click. The pressure on my cock was released and suddenly I felt myself with the freedom to expand, standing proud in the open air for the first time in weeks. It felt like heaven to be finally able to have an unfettered, thick erection.

The hand swept up my body to my throat and I felt a finger hook through the steel ring in my collar. She applied downward pressure.

"Kneel," she breathed, hoarsely.

From that single word, and the way it was said, I knew that Alena was desperately aroused. I dropped silently to my knees, and she released her grip on my collar. I looked up at the shadowy bulk above me, trying to let my eyes adjust, to make out more details of her. She moved and I heard the slick, wet sound of material stretching, then a hand cupped the back of my head.

With gentle pressure, she pulled me towards her, her fingers gripping my hair. I leaned forward, my bodyweight pressing down on my knees, my arms held uselessly behind me. I detected a familiar scent and in the darkness I could feel the heat radiating from Alena's skin, so close to me. I tried to move forward, but Alena's hand held my head firmly in position.

Alena's voice drifted down from above me as I took in the scent of her arousal. "Have you made your decision?" she asked, simply.

My thoughts were conflicted, still. My wife had taken another man to bed without showing the slightest remorse or concern for my feelings. Worse, she had delivered me an ultimatum and instead of raging against her cruelty and her selfish pursuit of her own pleasure, I had allowed her to handcuff me and bring me to my knees. I felt beaten, outplayed. My guts churned, but it was with a twisted thrill that had me rock hard, needing more.

"Yes," I breathed, "Mistress."

She pulled my face to her, and I felt the hot, sweet moisture of her crotch against my face, as if this was my reward for obedience.

Alena released her hold on me and stepped back, panting, leaving my face suddenly damp and cool. I heard a slick, sliding, pulling sound. In the gloom, I watched her figure cross over to the bed and retrieve something.

"Eyes on the floor, worm."

I dropped my gaze, feeling my wife's moisture cooling on my slick cheeks. My cock was throbbing. I was beyond the point of endurance: I needed release. Alena clearly had other plans, and all I could do was remain kneeling on the floor, head bowed, waiting for her next command. I had put her collar on: whether I would get to cum now, or later tonight, or ever again was no longer my decision, it was hers.

Alena stood in front of me again, and I caught the faint flash of light from something above me. For a split second, I could see Alena's legs, but they looked different, then darkness again.

"Eyes forward."

I stared into the dark, at the shadow of my wife's body in front of me. Suddenly, a rectangle of illumination sprang to life in front of my face. It was Alena's phone; the screen showed her picture gallery and the selected file was entitled 'video three'.

"It's time," Alena murmured. "I wanted to wait until the right time, after you had proved your devotion to me. I needed to know that you accepted what I did."

Her words cut into me like knives, wresting up the conflict within me from hours earlier, the idea of sacrificing my exclusive right to my wife's body.

"This is the difference between us, worm. From now, you only ever cum when I allow it, or if I allow it. Your manhood is your prized possession, but now both your cock and your self belong to me. If I decide it, you won't get to cum again, ever."

She paused, letting the words sink in. My eyes were locked on the screen in front of me, terrified of the moment she would play the video.

"The difference is that you are under my complete control from this moment onwards, for good. No more games, no playing. Every hour, every day, for life. Your pleasures are whatever I permit you, but the rules are different for me."

Her finger appeared, silhouetted against the bright screen, hovering over the link.

"I can take my pleasures whenever and wherever I want," she intoned, gravely, "With whoever I choose. That's the difference between us, now. You're a slave, and I'm free."

Wracked by anguish, I realised too late that the screen was illuminating my face, letting Alena see every detail of what her words were doing to me. She would know what I was feeling.

"I'm going to press play now, but first I need to hear you acknowledge what I just said. I want you to accept it."

My eyes were locked on the screen, as if that little rectangle of light had become my entire world. The file would show me what Alena did with a stranger, in her bed in her hotel room. I realised that here, at last, she was giving me a choice. The life I now knew I craved, at the cost she was proposing to extract from me. Giving her complete control and at the same time setting her free was the ultimate act of submission. We had finally come to that.

I opened my mouth, but my throat was too dry to speak. My pulse hammered in my temples, accompanied by an answering throb between my legs. Alena's final, irrevocable act of dominance over me was to make me ask her to own me. I swallowed hard, and began to speak, a tremor in my voice.

"You own me," I gasped.

"Good boy."

The finger tapped the screen, and the video began to play.

I saw the hotel bed, the shot angled up from the foot of the bed at the pillows. There was the shadow of movement off-screen and I braced myself for what was to come. My palms were sticky and I found that I was holding my breath, eyes fixed in horror on the scene about to play out before me.

In the video, Alena crawled onto the bed, settling herself in the middle, propped up by pillows in her beautiful lingerie. She looked directly at the lens and spread her legs wide, giving a full view of her crotch. I could hear the friction of her stockinged legs as they slid across the crisp, white sheets.

On screen, Alena opened her mouth and said, "Are you on your knees, worm?"

"Answer the woman," came the commanding voice from above me.

Quickly, I complied. "Yes, Mistress," I breathed.

On screen, Alena smiled and continued, "You aren't touching yourself, are you?"

"No," I whined, painfully aware of my towering erection, my arms straining against the handcuffs and my fingers digging into the flesh of my buttocks in frustration.

I watched Alena wriggle sexily on the bed, then she said, "Are you ready to see?"

"Yes," I hissed, "Please, Mistress, I want to see."

"Are you begging?"

"Yes," I babbled, desperate now to witness her callous brutality towards my predicament, "Please Mistress, I'm begging you. Show me."

Above me, I was aware of the dark shape of my wife's body shifting slightly. Dimly, a part of me understood that she was watching me suffering, taking pleasure from my agony again, powerfully aroused.

"My friend and I had a wonderful dinner. But you already saw that. He was a delightful kisser."

I watched the figure on the bed begin to stroke her belly with her fingers in long, sensual circles.

"I bet you were imagining how his lips felt against mine, how his hand strayed over my body. I imagine you suffered terribly, all night, but did it also make you rigid with desire, too, imagining the pleasure he would be feeling as he stripped me and slid inside me? You remember how that feels, don't you, to be allowed inside me? Do you want to know the truth? Do you want to know what happened after?"

The figure on the bed paused.

"Do you want me to show you what he did to me?"

Her words had unleashed a dizzying cascade of emotions within me as I watched the woman on the tiny screen, saw Alena's hand dip beneath her g-string and begin to stroke her clit, reclining on the hotel bed. Her eyes closed and she let out a long, lingering sigh of pleasure. I was fixed on my wife's figure, laid out in lingerie, her pretty face creased with the sensations that her fingers were provoking within her.

"Do you want to touch yourself?"

"Yes," I groaned, barely able to think.

"Do you want to be unlocked?"

"Please."

Above me, the figure moved, a hand reaching behind me in the dark. There was a click and my wrists were freed. My eyes were locked on the cruel woman on screen, on her sly, mocking smile.

"Of course, you know your penis belongs to me, don't you? You aren't allowed to touch it without my permission. Understood?"

I watched Alena recline on the bed, dipping deep into herself, her eyes closing as she enjoyed the prospect of having me helpless on my knees waiting for permission to stroke myself. She played with herself in silence for a while, leaving my cock to bob and twitch in the air. At last, Alena opened her eyes and stared down the lens at me.

"Ready, worm? I want you to masturbate to this video," she said, "Get yourself hard and bring yourself to the edge. But you're not allowed to cum. I want you to watch me and torture yourself. Then I might tell you what he did."

I grasped my rock-hard shaft and began to stroke myself, obeying the woman on screen, my eyes fixed on the way her fingers danced beneath her g-string as she played with herself. The screen trembled, and I was aware of a slick slapping noise from behind the phone as the dark shape of my wife began to move rhythmically to her own ministrations as she held the screen for me to watch.

I continued to stroke myself, as if in a trance, captivated by the view of my lingerie-clad wife enjoying herself in the video, and Alena standing above me, working her fingers inside herself as she watched my obedient responses to the actions she had filmed for me.

The phone shook as my wife approached her own orgasm, but the little screen showed Alena's body suddenly arch on the hotel bed, her thighs clamping together as she buried her fingers deep inside herself, riding an intense climax. A climax, I realised, that was powered by the thought of her husband playing this moment back a day later in the agony of humiliation and betrayal, on his knees in the dark.

I watched her body buck and writhe as the orgasm surged though her, until she gradually began to relax. My hand was tugging frantically at my manhood now, my balls constricted with the effort of holding back my ejaculation. I watched Alena open her eyes and look directly at me.

"Oh, darling, that was amazing. I bet you're right on the edge now, aren't you?"

"Yes," I whined, "Please. I need to cum. Please."

I watched Alena crawl forward on her hands and knees towards the camera until her face filled the entire screen. She looked satisfied, dishevelled and gloriously happy. She smiled.

"Does my good boy want to come?" she murmured, pouting sexily.

The woman I married, the love of my life, stared back at me from the screen, her cheeks burning with the afterglow of her orgasm, buzzing with a strange energy as she anticipated making me watch her on the screen, on my knees at home. Languidly, she slid towards the phone and let the camera train up her body, smiling at me as she pulled aside her g-string to show me her reddened labia. Alena parted herself with two fingers to display herself to me. My eyes were locked on the screen, hypnotised by the sight of her delicate inner lips, and my hand moved up and down my shaft as if under the control of the woman on the screen.

"Please let me come," I begged, feeling a searing ache as I was forced to slow down my strokes to stop myself tipping over the edge.

Each stroke, each pulse of pleasure was now sweet agony in my core. I looked deep into my wife's blue eyes on the screen, willing her to say the words. Her little, cute smile faded and I watched the corners of her mouth turn down in mock disappointment.

"Look at you, tossing yourself off while you imagine what he did to me, how wonderful his manhood would feel inside me when yours has been neglected for so long. It's so unfair, isn't it, thinking of him getting to enjoy all the delights of my body and all you get in return for your sacrifice is this. Just permission to give yourself a hand job."

She brought her crotch closer to the camera, until her labia filled the entire screen, slick with her juices. She was showing me what he'd done.

"But, who's the one filming this? Him, or me?"

I gaped in anguish, at the thought of the man in the previous video being the one holding the phone, listening to every tortuous word Alena was relaying to her submissive, humiliated husband. I could imagine his delight, watching Alena put on her show for the video, displaying herself after her fucking. Suddenly, she pulled back, leaving me staring into her eyes. She paused.

"It's just me," she said, "I left him at the restaurant and came back here alone."

My cock bucked in my hand. I blanked out, unable to comprehend.

"I'll let Alena decide if you earned your orgasm or not."

The video ended, frozen on the last frame, of my wife's pretty face, looking sad as she stared into the camera.

"Oh god, no. No, no, no," I gabbled, "You can't do that to me."

"Too cruel," the voice above me gasped, catching small breaths, accompanied by the frantic wet slopping sound of her fingers sliding into her body, "Was that too cruel, worm?"

I was beyond words; the weeks of denial, the frustration, the cruel twists, and finally the refusal, was all just too much. I heard the sound of movement and Alena's body swept past me.

"Stop. Hold yourself there."

I froze, obeying reflexively and gripping my rigid shaft with my hand, feeling myself twitching and pulsing against my fingers, afraid that the slightest motion would be enough for me to climax.

I was blinded as the lights come on. Blinking rapidly, I found myself staring up into blinding whiteness. After the dark, it took me several seconds to for my vision to clear and when it did, my eyes fixed on a figure standing above my kneeling, naked body with her hand on her hip.

"Is that how you greet your Mistress, worm?"

The voice was Alena's, but the body was unrecognisable. Where I was used to seeing the soft curves of her skin, the figure in front of me was a sculpture of glossy, black latex. Alena's legs were enveloped in tight, black latex stockings, her calves shaped sexily by four-inch stilettoes. My eyes followed her legs upwards to take in the way her body was sheathed in a tight, black latex dress, the hem of which barely overlapped her stocking tops. She was wearing gloves of the same material, pulled all the way up her arm to above her elbow. But it was her head that made me freeze in disbelief.

My wife's pretty face, her delicate brows, her sexy little smile, were gone, completely encased within a tight black latex hood. I looked up into bright blue eyes set off with smoky black mascara, a slash of bright red lipstick below, but otherwise completely featureless. Without a hint of human warmth or expression, she surveyed my kneeling body from her vantage point high above me. My cock quivered in my hand, my body locked rigid, waiting for permission to move.

My wife had been erased. Mistress Alena had taken ownership of me.

"Please me, worm. If you do an exceptional job, I might actually let you finish yourself off."

A latex-gloved hand reached down and lifted the hem of her dress, making the same slick stretching sound I had heard earlier. The scent of the latex now made sense to me as well: Alena had been masturbating her latex-wrapped body in the dark as she watched my helpless reaction to the video. I could only stare at the place between her legs, noting the slick gleam of moisture between her already pink and puffy lips. She was displaying her freshly-shaven pussy to me, but made no further move. I knew why.

"Mistress," I pleaded, pathetic in my need to please and finally earn my reward, "May I touch you?"

"This is what you're for," Alena replied, "Your only purpose is to bring me pleasure."

I heard the unfamiliar words from my wife's mouth, and it triggered something deep inside me, a feeling of utter submission as I prostrated myself in front of my shiny, latex-clad goddess. My wife had done all her research and the details were perfect, even down to the words she used and the shade of her lipstick. As I had stalled and agonised in the kitchen over whether my wife still cared for me, she had been preparing herself meticulously to show me just how far she was prepared to go to become my fantasy. She had put everything on the line for me and I had let her stew, keeping her waiting for hours.

I nestled into my wife's crotch, and she slid the dress back down over my head, enveloping me in latex, pushing my face tightly against her pussy. Her aroma filled my senses, and I began to lap at her slit, feeling her shiver in response. Somewhere far above me, outside my dark, latex cocoon, I heard my wife groan with pleasure. I slipped my tongue into her entrance, tasting her as if for the very first time, my nose pressed against her clit, nuzzling her little hard nub.