Taking Instruction

"I... I'm not gay. I've never had a woman, uh, down there."

"And?"

"And? Uh, I'm just interested in men. In my husband. Do you understand?"

She was conscious of the pleading tone she was using, the way her expression was begging Harvey to understand, to not be disappointed and call her a failure. She wanted him to respect her limit.

"Go on."

Alena swallowed again, feeling Syn's breath on the dampness of her pussy lips as she stared into the eyes of the kneeling woman's husband.

"I came here to learn about what I need to do to be the dominant my husband wants me to be, not to be part of some gender game between you and your wife."

Alena clamped her mouth shut, immediately regretting her defiant tone. She was tied up and helpless, completely at this man's mercy. Telling him that she didn't want to be part of his twisted little marriage power play was not a wise idea.

Harvey's hand released her chin and for a moment, she was afraid it was to slap her, but instead he reached down behind his wife's head and tugged at the buckle that secured her ring gag in place. Carefully, Harvey pulled at the strap, allowing the shiny steel ring to emerge from his wife's mouth. Syn closed her lips immediately, moving her jaw and swallowing, enjoying the ability to use her mouth again.

"Cynthia, how would you identify yourself?"

Syn's expression was open, honest. "I'm straight," she said.

"Heterosexual? Not even bisexual?"

"No."

"And yet you were about to clean the dripping, piss-sodden pussy of another woman. Why is that?"

"Because you commanded me to. Because I trust you. Because if that's what you want from me, and if it's going to please you, then I'll do as you want."

Harvey stroked his wife's cheek tenderly.

"You see, Alena, that's what all this means. You have someone else's life in your hands. Sometimes, if you engage in certain types of play, quite literally in your hands."

Harvey looked up from his wife's face.

"There is a place beyond dress-ups, beyond safewords, beyond the scenes and the playtime, where a bond may exist that transcends all of that. It becomes something pure, born of the mutual love and trust that two people share for each other."

Harvey shrugged and straightened his shoulders, pausing while he collected his thoughts.

"This isn't the first time I've introduced someone to dominance, but never like this. The level of the bond between husband and wife, the commitment, the power dynamic, is vastly different to the people downstairs, playing their scenes for their friends. A sub can always say no, but a life partner may step beyond that boundary, becoming something that you can push and mould like clay. They can lose themselves. If you love them, you will always remember that you are their safety net, even as you are their greatest peril."

Harvey smiled sadly and went over to the big desk to pick up a glass of water. He took a sip, leaning up against the desk, surveying the scene in front of him.

"Cynthia would clean you because I told her to, not because she finds it arousing but because being my submissive is more important to her than gender norms," he said, "Because she has complete certainty that there are some things that I will never ask her to do, because they would be harmful to her, either physically or psychologically. One day, if you stay the course you are currently on, Quinn will be the same. With great power comes great responsibility."

Alena found her attention drawn to the woman beneath her. She could sense that Syn was waiting. Alena had no desire to feel Syn's mouth on her lips, but she understood. It hadn't been the pissing after all; this was Harvey's lesson: the submissive's leap of faith in trusting her owner, putting the desire of another before her own, sacrificing without hesitation because through doing so lay a freedom that she had never known before.

"I want to rescind my safeword," Alena said.

She could see it in Syn's expression, her readiness to obey her husband, her owner. She strained her neck, trying to raise her lips. Alena helped, bearing down to close the gap, feeling the soft, wet contact of Syn's mouth against her labia, then the surprising friction of the submissive woman's lips as they pursed, drawing the moisture together, collecting the last droplets of Alena's piss. Alena didn't move, allowing Syn to keep working on her, using her lips and tongue to mop up Alena's moisture.

It felt incredible and alien, a taboo and a rush like she had never felt, to stand over another woman and hold herself over the submissive's face while she was cleaned out. She watched transfixed as Syn's jaw worked in her crotch, brushing her clit and labia with those perfect, soft lips.

"Enough," Harvey announced.

Alena lingered for a few seconds more before pulling her crotch up, out of range of Syn's mouth. She felt his hands on her wrists, tugging, and suddenly her hands were free. Harvey dropped to her ankles and she felt her legs being unbound. Released, she hesitated, her hands on Syn's shoulders, supporting herself above the bound woman, her pussy hovering fractionally above that beautiful, expectant face.

"You are released. It's your choice now," Harvey murmured from behind her, "Not hers."

Alena couldn't explain or rationalise why, but she sank down onto the upturned face again, feeling Syn's mouth open wide to accept her. She gasped as she felt the soft, firm slickness of Syn's tongue intrude between her inner lips, worming its way into her inner sanctum. Alena groaned, suddenly overcome with the delicate, overwhelming sensation of being penetrated for the first time by a woman.

"Now that's really enough," she heard Harvey chuckle.

Alena straightened her legs and took an unsteady step backwards off the stationary turntable. Harvey's hand was on her arm, steadying her. He turned her around and she found herself looking into his warm, rich eyes.

"That was all you that time. You felt it though, didn't you? The thrill of the power of it."

Alena nodded and Harvey laughed, a rolling, deep belly laugh.

"Strange new world," he boomed, "Welcome!"

Harvey began to unbutton his shirt and he turned to look sideways at Alena.

"Now, if it's not too much trouble, I need to deal with an urgent matter. Please make yourself at home downstairs, and we'll both be down to meet you shortly."

Harvey stripped off his shirt, and Alena took that as her cue to pick up her underwear and begin to dress herself.

"Or maybe a little longer than shortly," he laughed.

---

Alena parked in front of home and turned the engine off. In the silence that followed, she began to piece together what she would need to tell her husband, and when. She would need to pick her moment very carefully, revealing her secret visits to him. Alena could see that the mere fact of his wife leaving him alone at home while she disappeared for the night was already torturing Quinn. The power imbalance, the chasm that she had created between them, where she could do whatever she wanted, go out with whoever she wanted while he was forbidden to even leave the house, was affecting him deeply, conditioning him to further acceptance of his new submissive role in their relationship.

By now, she could see that her husband couldn't imagine himself being given the privilege of penetrating his wife with his desperately needy manhood, or of even having a simple conversation as man and wife, equal partners in marriage. He was in continuous desperation for any chance to show her his devotion and affection, and tormented at the injustice of his own wife disallowing the simple things that a wife should do for her husband. Alena was certain that the very thought that she could be enjoying the company of someone else with no such strings attached would be almost more than he could bear. It would force him to new heights of submission and obedience, making him burn with his need for her.

But how would she be able to tell him that she'd gone much further, the mistress who ruled and controlled his entire existence with an iron fist succumbing, herself, to become another man's helpless plaything? How would Quinn cope with the very idea that somewhere there existed a person who had succeeded in transforming his cruel, merciless owner into a powerless toy? That Alena had yielded her control and her body to someone merely for their pleasure?

Sitting in the car, alone in the dark, Alena felt a powerful urge to touch herself. She reached under her skirt and began to play with her clit, feeling her arousal build from out of nowhere, dipping her fingers into her slick passage. It was not the thought of what she had been made to do in the club tonight, the powerlessness she had been made to feel as she was turned into a toy. No, it was the anticipation of the look in Quinn's eyes as she revealed her secret to him, watching the suffering it would cause and therefore the unreasoning arousal it would enflame in him, as she told him how she had allowed herself to be someone's possession for the night. Her orgasm erupted, her vagina milking her thrusting fingers as she spasmed, her mind locked on the image of her husband's face crumpling as she confessed her secret submission.

Alena withdrew her fingers at last, but she was nowhere near sated. She had been a toy tonight and now she was going to use her own toy to give her climax after climax, twisting the knife as she revealed details of her obedient surrender to push him to new heights of submission and ecstasy. She wanted to feel him inside her, filling her over and over again, relentlessly servicing his wicked, cruel Mistress until her pussy was overflowing with his seed. Quinn's night was only just beginning.

Alena climbed out of the car, conscious of her own wetness on the fingers of one hand, unlocking the front door with her other. She slipped off her shoes and undressed, leaving her clothes in a pile in the hall, and closed the front door silently. It was way past midnight, and the house was silent and dark.

She padded in her bare feet towards the bedrooms, noticing that the master bedroom door was closed. This gave her an illicit thrill, knowing where her husband would be, knowing that he would have closed the door because that bedroom was hers, and out of bounds, their marriage bed a privilege that she had rescinded tonight. She crossed the hall to the guest bedroom and stuck her head through the open door.

Alena could hear breathing, slow and deep, and as her eyes adjusted, she could make out the rumpled shape of a body under the covers. She crept into the room, coming to a halt by the bed, looking down at her sleeping husband. No, she corrected herself, not her husband, at least not until she turned him back from what she had made him into: her toy.

It excited her powerfully, knowing that hours ago he would have given up on waiting for her to come home. His mind would have been churning with all kinds of scenarios, imagining what Alena was doing without him, the fun she was having, who she was having fun with, but even with the seething jealousy it would have engendered within him, the blatant unfairness, he had still followed all the rules, leaving the house so neat it was impossible to tell he had been there at all, erasing himself, and then obediently hiding himself out of her way in the guest bedroom as instructed.

Looking down at the man she had begun to crave to subjugate, she felt the burning need rising up in her again, unquenchable, engendering slickness between her legs. No, she wouldn't expose her secret tonight, her training: save that for another time, it was too good to waste on a man groggy with sleep. She wanted her toy to be fully in command of his faculties when she revealed that she had spent the night as someone else's slave.

She slapped Quinn across the face, making him jerk and flail out reflexively with his arms.

"Whu...? Fuck. What?" he cried out, but Alena pressed her juice-stained fingers to his lips.

She waited, letting the scent of her fingers do their work, telling him all he needed to understand. In the dark, she saw his body become still. With her other hand, she pulled the sheets down, to reveal his naked form. As instructed, he had remained nude all day. Alena smiled to herself, feeling a rush of arousal: he would be naked all weekend too. Alena was going to make things very difficult for him to bear.

"That's better. Husbands speak, but toys have no voice. You're not a husband are you? Or even a man anymore. I've turned you into my personal fuck toy, haven't I?"

Her husband's body remained frozen in place as she trailed her hand down his chest, over his stomach and then finally wrapping her fingers around the steel cage that she had locked over his manhood. She hefted the weight in her palm, feeling how warm it was and how completely his cock filled it.

"That's all you are to me anymore, an indulgence to be enjoyed."

She climbed onto the bed, straddling his waist, letting him feel the hot, slick contact of her needy pussy on his groin. The fingers that had been buried inside her only minutes before now made their way up his body, finding his lips and parting them to slip into his mouth for him to taste.

"That's right, you don't need to think," Alena murmured, sliding her hips down his prone body, "Your brain is surplus to requirements. Your only purpose is to suck and fuck."

Alena slid over his hips, pressing his legs together, trapping his cage between her thighs. She bore down onto the rigid structure and began to move her hips, brushing her labia and clit against the sturdy metal device, feeling the warmth of his skin bulging through the steel bars, the contrast of the softness of his compressed flesh and hardness of the steel bars supplying a delicious friction to her pussy. She could feel how hard he was, compacted into that tiny space, and began to grind herself against his cock prison in earnest.

Her husband groaned, a noise born of endless, unbearable frustration and Alena smiled to herself in the dark. It pushed her arousal to greater heights, until she could feel her juices slicking the cage beneath her, lubricating her passage over the steel. Each stroke across the undulations of the bars sent a blissful thrill through her, catching her clit at the end and enjoying the spike of pleasure it brought. The body beneath her began to squirm.

"This must be agony."

On a whim, Alena pulled off him and slid down his legs until her face was level with his crotch.

"You don't know agony."

She lowered her lips to the cage and drew the end of the steel device into her mouth, drunk on lust and willing to be mercilessly cruel to her toy. Seeing it now from the other side, Harvey's lesson, she felt unburdened, no longer an imposter in the scene; instead she was the Mistress of this wretch and she would torture him however she chose for her own pleasure because he expected it. Her lips closed around the steel and she began to suck, letting the tip of her tongue explore the gaps between the bars, then the open end, where the enormous pressure of his constrained erection had pressed just the tip of his swollen purple head past the ring he urinated through.

She pulled off him, letting him feel how her lips passed over each bar, brushing the tender flesh of his imprisoned shaft, then she went down on him again, sucking and licking through the bars, until her victim began to make groaning noises and the cage started to buck and squirm. Her lips lingered on his exposed, throbbing tip, sucking until he began to whimper. She popped off the end.

"So close. Just one more suck and you'd cum, wouldn't you?"

There was a noise from above her on the bed, a low, heartfelt moan accompanied by the rustle of the pillow as he nodded his head. Alena nuzzled the cage and planted a lingering kiss on the engorged flesh of his tip as it threatened to push free of its confines. Her husband gasped at her touch and the cage reared up desperately.

"Pity."

Alena slid herself up the prone man's torso, pinning his arms by his side, between her thighs. The cage was now forgotten, even as he mewled in excruciating frustration beneath her. She stopped when his head was between her thighs, sitting up on her hands and knees above him, expectantly. Between her legs, she could hear the sound of him whimpering.

"Was that unbearably cruel, getting you right to the edge like that?"

The figure nodded vigorously.

"If I have to wait any longer, I'm going to do it again, over and over until you learn to obey your Mistress immediately, however much you think you have needs of your own."

Just saying the words now, feeling the power she was wielding over him, was bringing her to the edge of climax all on its own. Somehow, Harvey had done something to her, reaching into her mind and rewiring her thoughts. There was no more guilt or doubt: she was taking complete control, unburdened by the legacy of being his wife. That would return, later, as Harvey had said, but right here and now she was nothing beyond his Mistress, cruel and focused only on the ability of her toy to please her.

Alena almost cried out when she felt lips make contact with her sopping, hungry slit. She had to bite her lip, her hands balling into fists, her toes curling at the spectacular waves of ecstasy the mouth between her thighs was imparting to her. She didn't need to last, to synchronise her body with another's, she just needed to be served. Alena hissed between her teeth, her thighs quivering, as the tongue probed between her labia, venturing through the portal of her inner lips and sliding into her wetness.

It was unbearable, and she knew how her husband must be feeling, caught on the brink of the wave, desperate to tip over into a crashing, spectacular orgasm. She teetered on the brink, feeling his soft tongue writhing inside her, and then abruptly he applied suction, drawing her labia into his mouth, pressing his top lip firmly against the little hard nub of her clit, his jaws opening and closing, stimulating all of her until it felt like her entire crotch was engulfed in fire.

Alena let herself go, crashing into the irresistible motion of his mouth on her pussy, her groin locking hard with the tremors of her orgasm. He seemed to be feeding off it, lapping at her as she contracted again, hitting her peak, his tongue embedded deep within her, feeling her pussy milking the soft intruder as waves of bliss coursed through her. She cried out, almost a scream, crushing his head between her thighs, caught in the moment, thoughts erased, now just a mindless, writhing body on top of that merciless, sucking mouth.

She collapsed forward against the bed head, breaking contact with her husband's mouth, feeling the relief and the longing as his tongue finally slid out of her. Alena's head was pressed against the sheets now, buried between her arms, struggling to breathe, struggling to think. Too much, too overwhelming, the overpowering rush of feeling his body surrender and her body take ownership, an organic, unthinking transaction. She remained motionless, her crotch suspended above him, feeling the juices of her climax dripping onto his upturned face, triggering a flashback of memory from earlier in the night, of Syn receiving her flow.

Alena lowered her crotch again, allowing her husband to kiss it, sucking up her moisture. The delicate attentions thrilled her, perfect after her climax, soothing and calming now. After a few moments, she pulled off and slid down the bed wrapping herself around her husband's naked body, feeling the cooling of the sweat on his skin, relishing how far she had pushed him and how completely he had accepted her control over him.

Even now, as she pulled the sheets up to cover their entwined bodies, she could feel the unbearable need in him, but Quinn didn't struggle, even though she had left him in torment, wrapping his arms around his wife and cuddling her tenderly.