Tell Me What You Want Ch. 06

[Author's note: Hector has signed a contract with his wife Lotte to enter into 24/7 slavery under total female control. He expected to add a sexy new dimension to their bedroom games, but he soon realises just how serious about a Female-Led Relationship his Domme wife is. Then she reveals that her best friend is also in on his little secret, agreeing to train and subjugate him on behalf of his wife. Both women are determined that he will be conditioned into total obedience.

Contains themes of consensual female-led-relationship, impact play. If femdom is not your thing, please browse my other stories for something more to your taste.]

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A TEST OF REASON

Bea returned, but Hector didn't notice her approach, his head still bowed on his knees in the grass. There was a rattle and something hard was forced against his lips. He opened his mouth reflexively, about to question, and the ball gag slipped between his teeth. Bea fastened it securely, then tapped him on the shoulder.

"Get up slave."

Hector struggled to his feet, feeling pins and needles in his legs. Had he really been kneeling for that long? He'd lost track of time, deep in the submissive space that Bea had pushed him into. She hadn't meant to, Hector realised that, but he'd dropped anyway, letting it all fall away. It had felt perfect.

"The fence. The gag's there to stop unnecessary chatter. If you need to speak, if it's important, tap your chin to signal. Now get to work."

Seeing that he had no choice, Hector crossed the lawn to the little garden shed and hunted around for a hammer and some nails. The box of nails was easy enough to find, but there was no hammer. He left the shed, to find Bea already on the garden chair with her book. He tapped his chin.

"What is it?" she asked, irritably.

Hector showed her the box of nails and mimed hitting them into imaginary wood. Bea sighed and unlocked the chain connecting him to the clothesline.

"You know where the toolbox is. You'd have been staring at it all night, surely. Go and get it."

She concentrated on her book again. Hector took the hint and went back through the house to the garage. The toolbox was sitting on one of the wide steel shelves, practically the only thing there except the arrangement of discipline implements from the previous night. Hector regarded the paddle dubiously and moved quickly to the toolbox. He flipped it open, rummaging around inside. There was a pair of pliers, a set of screwdrivers, a wrench, and finally at the bottom a hammer. Hector regarded the little collection morosely. Bea's ex-husband hadn't even left her with a proper set of tools. The prick hadn't even had the decency to give her that. Despite the divorce, the trauma of the settlement, the having to start all over again on her own, Bea was better off without Brent, Hector decided. She didn't need that fucker in her life. He went back out into the garden, waving the hammer to Bea to show her he'd found it, but she just beckoned him over to reattach him to the chain again, then went back to her book. Hector had offended her, he realised.

His display of submission had crossed the line. After all, she wasn't his owner. Lotte, his wife, was his owner. Bea was her best friend, then person Lotte had outsourced Hector's slave training to because apparently he would be more receptive to training from someone with whom he didn't share an emotional connection. Hector frowned, banging in the first nail, thinking to himself sourly that it was more likely that Lotte just didn't want to have to do the training herself. She always had a plan, and it usually involved other people doing the heavy lifting so that she could reap the benefits.

As he worked on the fence, fixing up the loose palings with painstaking slowness, Hector's thoughts dallied on the subject of his wife. He imagined that she would be booked into the spa by now, having her pedicure, or maybe reading something just like Bea was doing. He wondered how much time she would spend thinking about him in the back garden of his friend's house, half-starved from no food and bone-weary from having been chained to the shelves in the garage all night rather than being allowed the relative luxury of the camping mattress on the concrete floor.

He hoped that his wife was sitting there thinking of him, the transformation he was undergoing for her, to become her slave, twenty-four seven, obedient to her wishes, subservient to her in all things. The slave contract had been a mere formality, he reflected, a milestone to demarcate the Hector before signing who wanted to let his wife dominate him for the erotic pleasures that would ensue, and then Hector that existed after signing. New Hector, he thought, changed Hector. Kneeling in front of Bea after cleaning the trail of his precum off her little cut-off denim shorts with his lips, new Hector had experienced a moment of transcendence, committing himself without reservation to true submission.

It had been submission to Bea though, not his wife, not to Lotte who expected her trained slave to be delivered to her on Monday. In a moment of insight, Hector realised that Lotte had missed it all, too absorbed in her own interpretation of a female-led relationship, but Bea had pulled it all apart and painstakingly assembled the jigsaw from each of the pieces she'd extracted. Some of the pieces came from the stories that Hector had been sending his wife to read, little windows into Hector's needs that he'd found online.

Lotte had been blithely playing her own game, and had forwarded them on to her friend, exposing Bea to the world of female domination through the eyes of her husband. Lotte had drawn Bea in, pleased with herself at stimulating her friend's nascent needs to exert control in her life after the collapse of her marriage.

Lotte had drawn up her plan to dominate her husband with Bea's help, but it had always been Lotte's plan, shaped to Lotte's needs. Meanwhile, Bea had been reading the stories that Hector found for his wife, interpreting them instead as a catalogue of his unspoken list of requirements.

"Lunch," Bea called from across the lawn, rousing Hector from his contemplation.

She put a tray down on the low table beside her chair, in the shade of the house.

"Well, come on. What are you waiting for?"

Hector couldn't respond, the ball gag still firmly in place, making him wonder how he was going to be able to eat.

"Wash hands first. You're filthy."

Hector scooted to the garden tap to wash his hands, then joined Bea beside the low table. Bea had brought out two tall glasses of water, ice cubes sparkling enticingly, making Hector realise how thirsty he'd become after a morning of labour in the heat of the sun. There was a board with a fresh loaf and a breadknife, and a pot of salmon dip. His heart sank. After having had a few scraps to eat since the same time yesterday, he would have quite easily consumed everything on the table and still had room for main course. Worryingly, Bea hadn't moved to unfasten his ball gag. There were two glasses of water though. Surely she'd allow him to eat too?

He was aware of Bea watching him, and he scanned around for somewhere to sit: Bea was occupying the only chair. As he sank to his knees reluctantly, he detected the faintest hint of satisfaction on her pretty face. She hadn't had to tell her slave anything, he'd worked out his place all by himself.

"Serve me."

Hector obeyed, cutting a slice of bread and spreading the salmon dip over it. The food smelled delicious, making his stomach rumble.

"Feed me."

Her eyes glinted, her expression giving nothing away. This was new ground for Hector. He proffered the bread slice to her mouth and she bit into it delicately. He felt a little twinge inside his cock cage, watching her lips close around the soft white bread, so tantalisingly close to his fingertips. After a couple of hours of hard labour, his slumbering manhood began to stir.

He wanted to control it, but it was useless. He was triggered simply by proximity to her body, the unattainable delights of her curves. Her mere presence teased him. After the denial his wife had subjected him to in preparation for his slave training, just being close to her was a powerful aphrodisiac.

But it was a drug he couldn't sample. Even if his manhood hadn't been trapped in a clear plastic enclosure between his legs, filling it rapidly now, there was the fact that Bea was not his wife. Lotte had planned it so exquisitely, making sure that he was beside himself with desperation for relief, sending him instead to his friend, her body off limits but still tormenting him. His wife had been devious and maybe even cruel, letting Hector wear down his own resistance to the slave training by engendering the inescapable frustration deep inside his brain, seeing but not touching even as he ached for release.

He gave her another slice of bread. Bea was silent, craning her neck forward and opening her mouth to be fed. His stomach rumbled.

"Was that you?" she asked, her face showing amusement.

Hector bit into the ball gag and nodded.

"You sound like you're absolutely famished."

Hector nodded again, but cautiously. He wasn't sure where Bea was going with the conversation. He might be about to be fed, but then again, her plan might call for him to go without. Hector knew that a day of scraps to eat wasn't going to kill him, but it certainly added to the pressure he was under. That would have been their plan, though, to keep him submissive and open to their training programme. Regretfully, he had to admit that it was working.

Bea reached behind his head unexpectedly, unfastening the gag and extracting it from his mouth. His jaw ached after hours of biting into the ball, and he swallowed reflexively.

"Better?"

Hector nodded again. Bea smiled at him.

"You can talk, Heck."

To his surprise, it took Hector a few seconds to switch mental gears from the deferential to the familiar. He had to make an effort turn those parts of his brain back on that could engage in conversation. He was shocked how easy it had been to let that part of his mind go to sleep, wallowing in slave mode, not having to think but just to react to stimuli and orders.

"Nothing to say?" she probed gently, "Nothing you want?"

Hector wanted so many things. Her words triggered an avalanche in him. He wanted to rest, to just curl up on the grass and go to sleep. He wanted to be allowed to eat. He wanted to be able to get dressed.

No, that was wrong, he chided himself with an awful twist in his guts. He wanted to even up the disparity between them, stripping her as naked as him. He wanted to be freed of his plastic prison, to swell to his full extent in front of her. He wanted to offer his body to her service. Hector clamped his jaws shut for fear of revealing his desire.

"I've done a proper job on you, haven't I? Look at you. Normally, I can't shut you up but now you're too afraid to speak."

Bea was right, but for the wrong reasons. He was afraid of what he'd confess.

"Would you like some lunch? How about we start with something simple like that?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Bea."

"Yes, Bea, I'd like that."

Bea cut him a slice of the bread and handed it to him. She passed him his glass of water too. He accepted both eagerly, bringing the bread up to his mouth, but then stopped.

"What's up?" Bea asked.

"May I eat?"

"You may put the bread in your mouth and chew," Bea replied, mirth sparkling in her eyes, "But not swallow. Take a sip of water if you want."

He did as he was told. The bread was fresh and moist, still warm in the middle. Had she baked it while he was toiling in the garden? Had Bea made fresh bread as his reward? He stopped chewing, watching her expectantly. His stomach churned, needing to be fed but at the same time, aware of the mischievous look on Bea's face.

"Open up."

Hector opened his mouth. His heart sank.

"Taste good? It must do, after having had practically nothing. Do you want to be allowed to eat it, or should I make you spit it out?"

Hector didn't move, but his eyes widened with apprehension. Bea scrutinised him closely, a sly expression on her face. She had let him get so close to eating the delicious bread and she was about to take it away, just to prove that she could.

"Close your mouth Heck," she laughed, "You look like a two-year-old. Eat."

Hector swallowed his mouthful, feeling a ridiculous surge of gratitude towards her for being permitted the basic act of feeding. He thought back to the previous day, sitting in the break room at work, how he'd eaten his lunch with impunity and then torn into Bea for blindsiding him about her part in the slave contract and then the punishment beating afterwards. He'd made her feel so small. Now here she was in her t-shirt and shorts, smiling at him and effortlessly in control, as he knelt naked in front of her, needing her permission to swallow each mouthful. She had turned the tables on him, just like that. The speed of her domination of his body made his head spin.

"How're you feeling, Heck?" she asked, "I want to check in with you. I know it's been intense."

Hector regarded her carefully. She laughed again.

"Oh my god, quit with the eyes, Heck. I mean it, no tricks, I want to know how you're going. Whatever you tell me is fine, you're not going to be punished."

"Uh, sure."

It was all he was able to get out. It felt like too little. Bea's expression softened, and she placed her hand on his. Hector's body thrilled at the delicacy of her touch.

"This is a timeout, Heck, we're not in the game anymore. Though, something's changed, hasn't it? I can see."

She cocked her head to one side, scrutinising his reaction.

"It's not a game anymore, is it? At some point, this became reality."

"Yeah."

Again, monosyllables when he needed to open his mouth and say the things that were in his head. But, it was overwhelming. He didn't know where to start.

"I've never seen you like this, Heck, not in all the years I've known you. You have no idea what to do. For once, there are no buffers, are there? I could ask you any question I wanted and you would give me an answer direct from your heart."

Hector stiffened involuntarily, fear gripping him. She was right, he admitted, he would tell her anything now. He'd always been able to talk to her, sometimes better than his own wife, but now all the barriers had been stripped away somehow. She could reach into his heart and ask him to confess his deepest secrets and Hector would obey without resistance. Bea sensed it.

"It's okay," she soothed, "I'm not gonna make you bear your soul for me, Heck."

She patted his hand, continuing, "Not today, though maybe one day. Let's just start with something simple. How did you get into all this? When was the first time you knew? I have to confess that when Lotte first talked about it with me, what you two got up to, I just couldn't believe you'd let her do that to you."

Hector drank some of his water, hesitating for a second because he hadn't waited for Bea to authorise it. She appeared to accept it, as if trying to reassure him that they were on equal terms.

"Years ago," Hector began, "It was so stupid."

"In what way?"

"We'd come back from a bar, we went to bed, we were both ready for it. I undressed and I slid my belt out of my trousers. I just dangled it in front of her and asked her to give me her wrists. I can still remember the smile on Lotte's face as she turned it around, taking the belt from me and asking me to present my wrists instead. She bound me with my own belt and then rode me, sitting on the edge of the bed, my hands tucked out of the way behind my back. I was hard as rock and we both came in seconds. We weren't even fully undressed."

Hector recalled the way Lotte's eyes had shone afterwards, from the bliss of her orgasm and something more profound, something that would grow over the years until it had finally led to a contract and a pen on the benchtop in the kitchen.

"So, that was how it started? Almost by accident?"

"Yeah, I had an idea of something to try, but it turned out that Lotte had the same idea, but flipped. Her idea was better."

"And it just grew from there."

"Yeah. We got some handcuffs and played around with that for a while, and a blindfold, just a sleep mask really, but it was good enough. You can get a surprisingly long way with just a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold."

"I bet."

"Did you ever?"

The question came out of the blue. Hector hadn't expected to ask it. He cringed, having overstepped the mark, dreading the cessation of their familiarity and Bea switching back into the role of his controller like she had done previously when he'd ventured too close to the sun. This time, Bea surprised him.

"No," she admitted, "Brent was never into any of that. He was more into, uh, I guess other stuff in the bedroom."

"Want to say?"

Bea shifted in her chair, a shadow passing over her face.

"He liked being forceful."

"Did you like that?"

"I liked that he liked it. I liked that he was happy."

"How do you feel about what you're doing now?" Hector probed, sensing Bea's growing discomfort at having to explain the bedroom politics in her failed marriage.

Bea shrugged.

"Now it's my turn," Hector smiled, "Checking in with you. How're you going? Seems you've been keeping this secret a long time."

"Which secret? That Lotte and I had been talking, that I knew all about you?"

"Yeah."

"The truth?"

"Sure."

Bea's hand was warm on his. She hadn't moved it. He waited as she gathered her thoughts.

"Anxious," she admitted.

"Really? Why?"

"We talk all the time, Heck. In work and out of it. I got so nervous that I'd let something slip. I'd just be looking across the office and I'd see you acting all ordinary, or in a meeting going through your updates, and I'd tune out for a moment, and just watch you. It was so strange, I felt so weird, seeing you so normal, but knowing that you'd been tied up and spanked by your wife just the night before. I found myself watching how you moved, wondering if you were sore. I tried to imagine your face."

She gave his hand a squeeze and smiled at him.

"Then I got to see it firsthand, after signing the contract. I just stared as she beat you, I just...."

"How did you feel?"

Bea withdrew her hand, giving him a little shake of her head.

"It's okay Bea, you can tell me."

Bea's eyes met his, but she still didn't speak. Hector sighed.

"I really want to know, Bea. It's important to me."

Bea scrunched up her nose, but she didn't look away.

"It was hot," she murmured, "There. Now you know. When I gave you those two extra strokes, I felt like a monster, Heck, because I could have just kept my mouth shut. I could see how much Lotte had made you suffer already, how you weren't able to take anymore, but I still added to your punishment. Even worse, I didn't ask for your permission."

"You didn't need to ask my permission. It was my place to bend over and take the punishment you'd decided."

"That was your wife though. I added the two extra. I didn't have to do that, that was all me."

"You wanted to do that though, didn't you?"

Bea sighed.

"It's okay to say it," Hector chided, gently.

"It makes me sound like a freak."

"Let me be the judge of that, Bea."

Bea straightened her shoulders, committing to the words.

"Lotte gave me the cane. There was a look in her eyes, I can't describe it, like a fire. I took it and it was like she'd set me alight too. I lined up and gave you the first stroke. It was like electricity, I couldn't believe I was actually doing that to you. I couldn't believe I was standing in a kitchen with a naked man at my mercy, howling, as I administered punishment that I'd personally allocated to him. Then I gave you a second stroke. I didn't even hold back, though I should have. I gave it everything."