Cuckolded: Domme Wife's Discovery

An innocent demure wife discovers her husband fancies about being cuckolded. She reluctantly researches what this is and slowly develops into a femdom hotwife

The first time Jo found the browser history, she didn’t understand what she was seeing at first. **"How to tell wife about cuckolding." "Ways to introduce hotwife fantasy."** Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, pulse quickening. Lou—her sweet, dependable Lou—had typed these words. Searched for them. Maybe more than once. She closed the laptop slowly, the foreign terms tumbling in her mind like dice. That night, she lay awake long after he’d fallen asleep, studying the curve of his shoulder in the moonlight. The idea should have unsettled her. So why did her skin feel so warm? Days passed. She caught herself rereading emails without absorbing them, her plain cotton blouses buttoned primly to the throat. She didn’t *search* for anything, not at first—but when a risqué novel fell open to a particular scene at the bookstore, she bought it without meeting the cashier’s eyes, her unpolished nails tapping nervously against the counter. The book lived under her side of the mattress. She devoured it in stolen moments, thighs shifting against her sensible cotton panties as she imagined Lou’s hands on her hips—*watching* as another man’s gripped harder. One evening, she traced circles on his chest while they watched TV, her oversized cardigan slipping off one shoulder. “Would it bother you,” she murmured, bare face tilted up at him, “if someone flirted with me?” His breath hitched. Just slightly. “Depends on the guy,” he said, too carefully. Jo filed that reaction away, along with the heat pooling between her legs. This would take time. Good. She wanted to savor it.

Jo’s nails dug into her palms as she leaned against the kitchen counter the next morning, the memory of Lou’s reaction still prickling under her skin. Part of her wanted to shut it all down—snap the book in half, scrub the fantasy from her mind like a stain. *This isn’t me,* she told herself, even as her stomach clenched at the thought of another man’s gaze raking over her hips. Lou shuffled in, pressing a sleepy kiss to her neck. She stiffened—just for a second—but he didn’t seem to notice. He never did. That afternoon, she lingered in the office break room as Jake from Accounting laughed at some joke she’d half-heartedly made. His eyes dropped to her lips when she sipped her coffee, and she felt it like a touch. A thrill shot through her, sharp and shameful. She excused herself too quickly, heart hammering. That night, she let Lou fuck her with the lights on. His hands were familiar, gentle. Safe. But when she closed her eyes, she pictured Jake’s cocky smirk, the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders. She came with a choked-off sound, guilt and desire twisting together in her gut. Lou nuzzled her ear. “You’re so beautiful like this.” Her throat tightened. *You have no idea what I’m really thinking.*

Jo waited until they were tangled in bed again, Lou’s fingers lazily tracing patterns on her bare thigh. “So,” she started, voice deliberately light, “that thing you said about flirting… was that just hypothetical?” His hand stilled. She could hear the careful exhale through his nose. “Why?” A beat. “Someone bothering you?” The lie came too easily. “No. Just curious.” She rolled onto her side, studying his face in the dim light. His jaw was tight, but his pupils were wide, dark. Her pulse jumped. “But if there *was* someone… would it actually turn you on?” Lou swallowed hard. She watched his Adam’s apple bob, the way his grip on her thigh tightened just slightly. “Maybe.” His voice dropped lower. “If you wanted it.” Jo’s breath caught. The air between them felt charged, dangerous. Part of her wanted to recoil—*this is too much, too fast*—but the heat between her legs betrayed her. She dragged a fingertip down his chest, stopping just above the waistband of his boxers. “Tell me,” she murmured. “What *exactly* would you want to see?” His cock twitched against her leg. She hadn’t even touched him properly yet. Lou’s next words came out ragged. “Everything.”

He begins to open up but she struggles with what she is hearing. She is torn between respectability and becoming entangled in his dark fantasies

Lou’s breath hitched as he gripped her wrist, guiding her hand down the front of his boxers. His cock was already half-hard, twitching under her tentative touch. “You’d let him watch,” he said, voice rough. “Or—fuck, Jo—maybe I’d just listen from the other room. Hear you moaning his name.” Her fingers stilled. The image burned behind her eyelids: some faceless stranger’s hands sliding under her skirt, Lou’s ragged breath through the wall. Her stomach twisted—disgust warring with the molten pull between her thighs. “Jesus,” she whispered. Lou’s thumb dug into her hip, his other hand shoving his boxers down, his cock springing free, thick and flushed. A bead of pre-cum glistened at the tip. “You’d come harder for him, wouldn’t you?” Jo’s nails bit into his thigh. She should push him away, laugh it off like it was nothing. But the damp heat clinging to her skin told another story. “Maybe,” she breathed, echoing his earlier confession. His hips jerked. “Say it.” She hesitated—then leaned in, lips grazing his ear. “I’d let him bend me over your desk.” Lou came with a shattered groan, his release streaking hot across her stomach.

She is disappointed he has come so quickly but becomes aware of how much sexual power she could potentially have

Jo watched the tension drain from Lou’s body, his chest rising and falling in uneven bursts. The mess on her stomach cooled quickly in the air between them. A flicker of irritation tightened her jaw—*that was too fast*—but it faded as she studied his dazed expression. His fingers trembled where they still gripped her hip. "Fuck, Jo..." She pressed her palm against his softening cock, rubbing slowly. His breath hitched. "You didn't even last long enough to touch me," she murmured, dragging her fingers through the sticky warmth on her skin. Lou groaned, shame and arousal warring in his unfocused gaze. "It’s—Christ, the way you said that—" Jo brought her wet fingers to his lips. "Suck them clean." His mouth opened without hesitation, tongue swirling around her fingertips. A deep, satisfied thrill curled low in her belly. He was already hard again against her thigh, hips twitching helplessly. *This is control,* she realized. Raw, intoxicating. Her free hand slid between her legs, fingertips circling her clit as she watched him. "Tell me more," she demanded. "What else do you want to hear?"

He tells her more about his interracial dark fantasies. While he becomes more submissive and her more assertive

Lou swallowed hard, his tongue still tracing her fingers as his eyes darkened with submission. "I—I want to watch you ride him," he admitted, voice unsteady. "Watch him stretch you, hear you gasp how much bigger he feels..." Jo’s fingers pressed harder against her clit, arousal dripping down her thighs. "Go on," she urged, tightening her grip on his cock just enough to make him whimper. "W-want him to pin you down," he continued, breath ragged. "Wanna see his hands on your hips, your tits bouncing while he fucks you—god, Jo, you’d take it so good for him." She let out a slow, deliberate moan, arching into her own touch. "And you?" she taunted. "What would you do?" Lou shuddered, his cock twitching helplessly in her grasp. "Beg. Fuck, I’d beg to taste you after—to clean up his mess..." She released him abruptly, smirking at his pained groan. "On your knees then," she ordered, spreading her thighs. "Show me how bad you want it." He dropped instantly, his tongue laving her slit with desperate hunger. Power pulsed through her, sharp and sweet. *This was just the beginning.*

The next day she begins her metamorphosis into a sexual animal. Dressing more provocatively and heavier make uo

The next morning, Jo stood in front of the mirror, studying herself with a slow, deliberate smirk. The silk robe slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet as she traced the curve of her hips, her nails dragging lightly over her skin. *Lou’s fantasies had lit a fire in her—and she was ready to let it burn.* She reached for the black lace bralette, barely enough to cover her nipples, and paired it with a sheer blouse that left nothing to the imagination. Her skirt hugged her ass, the slit riding high enough to reveal the lace edge of her thong with every step. In the bathroom, she darkened her eyes with smudged liner, lips stained deep red. Every stroke of the brush, every layer of shadow, sharpened her hunger. When she stepped out, Lou’s breath caught—his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank her in. Jo sauntered past him, deliberately slow, letting him watch the sway of her hips. "Like what you see?" she purred, running a hand through his hair. His fingers twitched at his sides. "Jesus, Jo—" She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. "Good. Because I’m just getting started." Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A name flashed on the screen—*the first step in making Lou’s fantasies real.*

Jo took a slow sip of wine, her fingers tapping lazily against her phone screen as she composed the message. Frank—tall, broad-shouldered, with deep, knowing eyes—had always lingered a little too long when collecting rent. Now, she’d make sure he had a reason to. *Missed you at the mailbox today,* she typed, biting her lip as she hit send. The reply came fast. *That so?* She exhaled through her nose, glancing at Lou—still rigid in his chair, his cock visibly straining against his jeans. Her nails clicked against the glass as she typed again. *Mmm. Thought you might want to come by. Discuss some… late fees.* Frank’s response burned up the screen. *Be there in 10.* Jo set the phone down, stretching like a satisfied cat. Lou’s breath was shallow, his fingers digging into his thighs. “Problem, baby?” she murmured, trailing a fingertip down his chest. His voice cracked. “N-no.” She smirked, rising to answer the inevitable knock. “Good. Because Frank doesn’t like whining.”

Frank arrives. Jo becomes more dominant of Lou but submissive of Frank. She puts a cock cage on Lou.

The knock came right on time—heavy, deliberate. Jo adjusted her blouse, letting the sheer fabric slide just a little lower before swinging the door open. Frank filled the frame, his dark eyes flicking over her with undisguised hunger. “Late fees, huh?” he rumbled, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Lou stiffened at the sight of him, but Jo just smiled, pressing a hand to Frank’s chest. “Mmm, you know how much I hate being behind.” Her fingers trailed down his shirt before she turned to Lou, all warmth draining from her voice. “Strip. Now.” Lou’s throat bobbed as he fumbled with his belt, but Jo was already pulling the small black cage from her pocket. Frank watched, arms crossed, as she dropped to her knees in front of Lou. “You don’t get to come until we say so,” she murmured, snapping the lock shut with a *click* that made Lou whimper. Frank’s hand settled on the back of her neck, possessive. “Good girl.”

Jo rose from her knees with deliberate grace, rolling her shoulders to let the silk of her blouse catch the light. Frank’s gaze was molten, tracing the slow arch of her back as she peeled the fabric upward—first the curve of her hips, then the dip of her waist, the lace of her bra just barely scraping over her nipples as she pulled the blouse free. His knuckles whitened where they gripped the counter, his cock visibly straining against his jeans. Lou’s breath hitched, the cage around his useless erection pressing cold and unforgiving against his thighs. He couldn’t look away as Jo let her blouse slip from her fingers, the silk whispering against the floor. She dragged a nail down the center of Frank’s chest, smirking at the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch. “Tell me,” she purred, flicking open the button of his jeans, “how long you’ve been thinking about this.” The zipper came down with a rough hiss, Frank’s thick cock springing free against the heat of her palm. She squeezed once—just enough to wring a groan from him—before stroking the swollen head with her thumb, collecting the wetness already beading there. Behind them, Lou made a broken noise. Jo didn’t turn, too busy watching Frank’s jaw clench as she sank to her knees again. “Keep watching,” she ordered, her breath ghosting over Frank’s length. “See what happens when a man *earns* it.” Frank’s fingers twisted in her hair, dragging her mouth onto him with a snarl.

While she administers to Frank's huge black cock she also begins to humiliate Lous little white cock

Jo’s lips stretched obscenely around Frank’s girth, the swollen head of his cock pressing deep into her throat as she hollowed her cheeks. A thick vein pulsed against her tongue with every slow, deliberate suck—each drag of her mouth wringing a guttural groan from Frank. His fingers knotted in her hair, holding her tight as her throat fluttered around him, the wet heat of her mouth something Lou could never hope to match. Her other hand slid back, fingers spidering over Lou’s thigh before closing like a vice around the steel cage trapping his pitiful cock. She squeezed until the metal bit into tender flesh, watching his face twist with frustrated arousal. "See how he *fills* me?" she murmured against Frank’s shaft, her tongue laving the underside in broad, filthy strokes. "Every inch—god, you can *hear* how wet I am for him." Lou shuddered. The sounds alone were unbearable—the slick pop of her lips, Frank’s ragged breathing, the way her moans vibrated around his cock when he thrust deeper. The wife who’d once shied away from dirty talk now had another man’s precum smeared across her chin, her eyes glazed with raw hunger. Frank gripped her hair tighter, hips jerking as she took him to the root. "Tell him," he growled, "how much better this feels." Jo pulled off with a gasp, her lips swollen and glistening. "It’s not even *close*," she panted, jerking Frank’s thick cock in her fist, her thumb swiping over the leaking tip. "Your little cage couldn’t touch this." She flicked the steel with her nail, the sharp *ping* punctuating her words. "You really thought I’d be satisfied with *that*?" Frank’s laugh was dark with victory as he dragged her back onto him, her throat convulsing around his length. Lou’s chest ached—every choked moan, every desperate swallow was proof. The woman who’d once trembled at his touch now craved the stretch of a cock that dwarfed his, her fingers digging into Frank’s thighs like she’d die if he pulled away. The last shred of their old life vanished with the obscene *gulp* of her throat taking him deeper.

Its all becoming too much for Lou but Jo is too aroused to care and prepares to let Frank fuck her in the marital bed

Lou’s knees buckled, the sight of Jo’s throat bulging around Frank’s cock searing itself into his brain. His own trapped cock throbbed uselessly in its cage, every desperate twitch only tightening the unforgiving metal. But Jo wasn’t done—not even close. She pulled off Frank with a wet gasp, saliva stringing between her lips and his glistening cock. Her fingers hooked into her panties, peeling them down her thighs with deliberate slowness. “Bed,” she ordered, voice ragged with need. “*Now*.” Frank didn’t hesitate. He hauled her up, hands gripping her ass as she wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding her dripping pussy against his shaft. Lou stumbled after them, his pulse hammering as Jo’s nails raked down Frank’s back—possessive, desperate. She landed on the mattress with a bounce, legs already spread, her cunt glistening under the dim light. Frank’s thumb swiped through her slick, rubbing slow circles over her clit as she arched against him. “Look at that,” he rumbled, pressing two thick fingers inside her—stretching her in a way Lou never could. “So fucking greedy for it.” Jo’s moan was a broken thing, her hips rolling greedily. “*More*.” Lou’s breath hitched as Frank lined himself up, her slick coating the swollen head of his cock. The first thrust punched a cry from Jo’s lips—her back bowing off the bed, her fingers clawing at the sheets. Frank didn’t ease in, didn’t give her time to adjust. He buried himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke, the force of it making her toes curl. Lou’s stomach twisted. He could *see* the outline of Frank’s cock bulging inside her, could hear the obscene squelch as she took every inch. Jo’s head thrashed against the pillows, her thighs trembling. “Fuck—*yes*—just like that—” Frank’s hips snapped forward, the bed creaking under their weight. Each thrust drove a choked moan from Jo’s throat, her cunt clenching around him like she was already coming undone. And Lou? Lou could only watch—caged, humiliated, achingly hard—as his wife came apart on another man’s cock.

Frank’s rhythm was relentless, every deep, driving thrust forcing Jo’s body to yield further. Her thighs splayed wider, her hips lifting off the bed to meet him, her slick coating his shaft in a glistening sheen. The slap of skin echoed through the room—wet, sharp, obscene—punctuated by Jo’s ragged cries. Her cunt pulsed around him, hot and tight, fluttering as Frank bottomed out inside her. The stretch was undeniable—Lou could see the way her lips strained around his girth, swollen and flushed from use. Frank’s grip on her hips was bruising, fingers digging into soft flesh as he dragged her onto him over and over. “*Fuck*—you take it so good,” Frank growled, his voice thick with pleasure. He leaned down, catching one of Jo’s nipples between his teeth, biting just hard enough to make her yelp before soothing it with his tongue. Jo’s hands scrabbled at his back, nails leaving angry red trails. “Harder—” she choked out, her voice breaking as he pistoned into her. “I want to *feel* it—God, *please*—” Lou watched, transfixed, as Frank obeyed. His thrusts turned punishing, the bedframe slamming against the wall with each brutal snap of his hips. Jo’s moans climbed higher, her breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps. Her fingers tangled in the sheets, knuckles white, her body arching off the mattress like a bowstring pulled too tight. Then, with a broken cry, she came—her cunt clamping down on Frank’s cock in rhythmic spasms, her thighs shaking uncontrollably. Frank didn’t slow, didn’t let her catch her breath. He fucked her through it, his own release building just beneath the surface, his muscles taut with the effort of holding back. Lou’s stomach twisted. Even ruined, gaping around Frank’s cock, Jo looked more satisfied than Lou had ever seen her.

Jo’s fingers clamped around Lou’s wrist, yanking him closer as Frank’s cock still pulsed inside her. Her grip was iron, her nails digging into his skin hard enough to leave marks. “Touch me,” she demanded, voice low and rough—not asking, not teasing. *Commanding.* Lou’s breath stuttered as his fingers brushed her swollen cunt, wet with Frank’s spend and her own slick. He could feel the heat radiating off her, the way her inner muscles fluttered around nothing, still twitching from her orgasm. “No,” Jo snapped, shoving his hand lower—toward the base of Frank’s cock, where it disappeared into her. “Here. *Feel* what he did to me.” Lou’s stomach dropped. His fingertips met the stretched rim of her pussy, hot and sticky, parted obscenely around Frank’s shaft. Jo moaned as he touched her, her hips grinding back against Frank, milking him deeper. “Tell him,” she panted, nails raking down Lou’s arm. “Tell him how *ruined* I am.” Lou’s throat worked. “You’re—fuck, you’re *open*,” he choked out. Jo’s smile was sharp. “And you’ll never stretch me like this.” She reached down, gripping his caged cock through his pants, squeezing just shy of pain. “But you’ll *watch* every time I let him.” Frank’s groan was dark as he pulled out, his cock glistening with her. Jo rolled onto her knees, her ass in the air, still dripping. “Again,” she ordered, glaring at Lou over her shoulder. “And this time? You *don’t* look away.”

Frank didn’t hesitate. His palm cracked against Jo’s ass, leaving a stinging red imprint before he shoved back inside her with a single brutal thrust. A choked gasp tore from her throat as her body jolted forward, breasts swaying, her cunt swallowing him whole. Lou couldn’t look away. Jo’s pussy was a glistening mess—her inner lips stretched taut, swollen from use, Frank’s thick cock spreading her obscenely with every snap of his hips. The sticky sound of their fucking filled the room, wet and rhythmic, punctuated by Jo’s sharp moans. Frank gripped her hips, pulling her back onto him with a grunt. His balls slapped against her clit with each thrust, her juices smearing down his thighs. "Fuck, she's *dripping*," he growled, grinding deep to let Lou see the way her tightness clung to him. Jo’s fingers twisted in the sheets, her back arching as Frank bent over her, biting her shoulder. "Tell him how it feels," she demanded, voice ragged. Lou’s fingers twitched, his caged cock straining uselessly. "Your pussy—Christ, it’s *swollen*," he muttered, watching her clench around Frank’s shaft. "You look… *used*." Jo’s laugh was breathless. "Good." She reached back, spreading herself wider, letting Lou see the slick, pink ruin of her cunt stretched around Frank’s cock. "Now *remember* this when you’re locked up and begging." Frank’s rhythm stuttered, his breath coming in rough bursts. "Gonna fill her again," he warned, fingers digging into her flesh. Jo smirked. "Make him watch *that* too."

Frank’s hips jerked harder, his cock swelling as he bottomed out inside Jo with a ragged groan. His release pulsed deep, thick ropes of cum spilling into her already-wrecked cunt as she let out a satisfied cry. She rocked back against him, milking every last drop, her pussy clenching greedily around his shaft. When he finally pulled out, a slick trail of their mixed arousal dripped from Jo’s gaping entrance. She didn’t even bother to close her legs, just turned her head toward Lou with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Clean me,” she ordered, voice thick with exhaustion and authority. Lou’s throat went dry as he stared at the mess between her thighs—the swollen lips, the glistening streaks of Frank’s cum already leaking out onto the sheets. His caged dick ached, but he didn’t hesitate, dropping to his knees between her legs. Jo grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking him closer. “Lick it *all*,” she hissed. The first touch of his tongue was hesitant, but Jo tightened her grip, forcing him deeper. The taste was salty, musky—Frank’s spend mixed with her own slick, thick on his tongue. Lou moaned despite himself, lapping at her folds, his own humiliation only fueling the heat coiling low in his stomach. “Good boy,” Jo purred, grinding against his mouth. “Swallow every drop he left in me.” Frank chuckled darkly above them, watching Lou’s desperate worship with obvious satisfaction. “Bet he’s never tasted you like this,” he mused, dragging a thumb over Jo’s clit just to make her shudder. Lou didn’t answer, too busy obeying—tongue plunging inside her, cleaning her ruined cunt like the devoted cuck he was.

Frank’s grip on Jo’s hips tightened as she arched her back, pressing her ass harder against him, taking every inch of his cock with a satisfied moan. Her eyes locked onto Lou’s, glazed with pleasure but sharp with malice. “See how much *better* he fills me?” she taunted, rolling her hips in slow, obscene circles. “Your little cage could never stretch me like this.” Lou swallowed hard, his face burning as he watched Frank’s cock glisten with her arousal, the thick shaft disappearing into her over and over. Jo licked her lips, then reached back, wrapping her fingers around Frank’s length, guiding him deeper. “God, *feel* how he owns me,” she moaned, dragging her other hand up her stomach to cup her breast, pinching her own nipple. “You get to *watch* while I worship him.” Frank groaned as Jo twisted beneath him, her lips parting in a gasp when he pistoned into her harder, the slap of skin echoing in the room. “Fuck, she’s *made* for this cock,” he growled, his free hand tangling in her hair, pulling her head back. “Tell him how bad you need it.” Jo didn’t hesitate. “I need it *every* night,” she panted, her voice breaking as Frank’s thrusts turned erratic. “Need his cum—*his* thick fucking cock—not your pathetic little—” Her words cut off in a cry as Frank slammed into her one last time, hips jerking as he emptied himself inside her. Lou could only stare as Jo shuddered through it, her pussy clenching greedily, milking Frank’s cock as he groaned above her. When he finally pulled out, Jo collapsed onto the bed, legs still spread, her ruined cunt glistening with his spend. She turned her head lazily toward Lou, licking her lips. “Clean me up. And thank him.”

Lou’s trembling hands hovered over Jo’s glistening thighs, his tongue darting out instinctively before he caught himself—his humiliation burning hotter than desire. Jo sighed, stretching like a satisfied cat, Frank’s cum already dripping onto the sheets beneath her. “Say it,” she murmured, tracing lazy circles around her swollen clit. “Say *thank you* to the man who actually knows how to fuck a woman.” Lou’s jaw clenched, but he forced the words out, voice ragged. “Th-thank you, Frank.” Frank smirked, palming his still-hard cock, smearing Jo’s slick across his palm. “Damn right,” he rumbled, stepping closer. “Now get to work, cuck. Show your queen how grateful you are.” Jo hooked a leg over Lou’s shoulder, dragging him in. He groaned as his tongue swept through her sticky folds, the bitter-salty tang of Frank’s release thick on his tongue. She arched into his mouth, moaning as his nose pressed against her throbbing clit. “Mmm, that’s it,” she purred, tangling her fingers in his hair. “Lick *everything*. I want to feel your tongue *begging* for the taste of him.” Frank chuckled, watching Lou’s obedient worship. “Should’ve put a ring on *me* instead, baby,” he mused, squeezing Jo’s thigh. Jo’s laugh was breathy, drunk on power. “Maybe I still will.” Her nails dug into Lou’s scalp. “Wouldn’t that be *perfect*? You, locked and useless. Him, fucking me whenever he wants.” Lou whimpered around her cunt, his own pathetic arousal trapped in its cage—helpless, owned. Just how she liked him.

Jo decides Frank will stay for the night. Lou is relegated to the sofa. Frank begins to corrupt Jo further

Jo stretched luxuriously, legs still splayed, watching Frank roll his shoulders with a satisfied grin. "You're not going anywhere tonight," she murmured, reaching up to hook a finger in his sweat-damp waistband. "I want more before sunrise." Frank’s smirk deepened as he glanced at Lou, still kneeling by the bed, his lips glistening with her juices. "Hear that, cuck? You’re on couch duty." Lou opened his mouth—maybe to protest, maybe to beg—but Jo silenced him with a sharp look. "Go. Unless you *want* to watch him wreck me a second time." Frank didn’t wait for Lou to shuffle out. He dragged Jo up by the hair, swallowing her moan as his tongue claimed her mouth, his free hand groping between her thighs. "Gonna fuck you raw by morning," he growled against her lips. Jo shivered, her nails raking down his chest. "Promise?" Frank’s laugh was dark as he shoved her back onto the mattress, his cock already stiffening again. "Bet your worthless husband can hear every scream from the sofa." Down the hall, Lou flinched at the first slap of skin, Jo’s broken whimper following—not pain, but *wanton* hunger. He squeezed his caged cock uselessly, the fabric of his pants straining. Frank’s voice carried, thick with domination: "Say it again. Who owns this pussy?" Jo’s answer was a keening wail. "*You* do—*oh God*, Frank, it’s *yours*—!" The bedframe slammed against the wall in rhythm. Lou covered his ears. It didn’t help.

Lou suffers with cuckold angst. What has he started. He wants to return his wife to being innocent. But it's too late she has become addicted to black cock

Lou’s stomach twisted as another throaty moan echoed down the hall. The wet slap of flesh, Frank’s rough commands, Jo’s breathless whimpers—it was all too vivid in his mind. His hands trembled around the couch armrest, his caged cock straining uselessly against the tight fabric. He should storm in there. He *should* pull Frank off her, remind Jo of the vows they’d made—before all *this*. But the memory of her smirking lips, the way she’d *ordered* him to lick Frank’s seed from her, froze him in place. The bed creaked violently. A muffled cry—Jo’s—then Frank’s low chuckle. “Damn, girl. You take this BBC like you were *made* for it.” Jo’s response was a shattered moan. “Fuck—*yes*—Lou never made me feel like *this*—” Lou bit his fist, humiliation burning through him. He’d wanted to spice things up, sure, but this—this was *ruin*. Frank wasn’t just fucking Jo; he was rewriting her, carving his dominance into her body until she’d never crave anything else. A particularly sharp cry ripped through the apartment. “*Frank—oh God, right there!*” Lou squeezed his eyes shut. Too late. His sweet, reserved wife was gone. And all that was left was a woman who’d rather choke on a stranger’s cock than let her husband touch her. Frank’s growl rumbled through the walls: “Beg for it. *Beg* for this black dick.” Jo didn’t hesitate. “*Please—I need it, Frank, fuck me harder—!*” Lou’s cage dug into his flesh. He deserved this. He’d *chosen* this.

The next day after Jo's night of debauchery Lou is frustrated and angry but Jo calls the shots and puts him straight

The next morning, Lou sat at the kitchen table, fingers drumming an angry rhythm against his coffee mug. Jo strolled in, still humming from last night, hips swaying with lazy satisfaction. She didn’t even glance at him as she poured herself a glass of water, the marks on her neck dark against her skin. Lou’s jaw tightened. “We need to talk.” Jo finally looked at him—not with guilt, but amusement. “Oh?” She leaned back against the counter, taking a slow sip. “About what?” “About *him*.” Lou’s voice cracked. “About what the hell you’re doing—” “What *I’m* doing?” Jo arched a brow. “You set this up, baby. Don’t act shocked now.” She set the glass down and crossed her arms, the silk robe slipping just enough to show the bite marks Frank had left. “You wanted me to have fun. I’m having *fun*.” Lou shot up, chair screeching. “You’re *addicted*—!” Jo laughed, low and cruel. “And whose fault is that?” She stepped into his space, nails pressing into his chest. “You think one night was gonna be enough? Please. I could barely *walk* this morning, and I still want more.” Her fingers trailed down, squeezing the bulge in his pants—ignoring his whimper—before shoving him back into the chair. “So sit down, shut up, and remember your place.” Lou’s breath hitched as she turned away, robe flaring open just enough to taunt him with the sight of her bare thighs. Jo paused at the door, tossing over her shoulder: “Frank’s coming back tonight. Make sure the couch is comfortable.”

Lou’s pulse slammed against his throat as Jo’s words hit him like a physical blow. His fingers dug into his thighs, cock twitching in its cage despite the fury tightening his chest. The scent of her—sex and Frank’s cologne still clinging to her skin—flooded his senses, making his stomach clench. Jo smirked at his silence, hooking a finger into the collar of her robe and tugging it wider. The marks were worse in daylight—purple-rimmed bites trailing down her collarbone, the swell of her left breast. She let him stare, breathing slow just to watch his eyes follow the rise and fall. “You *licked* his cum out of me last week,” she murmured, thumb brushing a bruise. “Now you’re suddenly shy?” Lou’s mouth went dry. She stepped closer, until the heat of her thighs pressed against his knees. With deliberate slowness, she reached down and flicked the steel cage strapped around his useless cock. His groan was ragged. “Good boy,” she cooed. “Stay just like this while I shower. And Lou?” Her nails scraped his scalp as she fisted his hair, wrenching his head back. “If I hear *one* complaint when Frank’s balls-deep in me tonight, you’ll sleep in this cage for a month.” She released him with a shove, her robe falling open completely as she turned—giving him one deliberate flash of glistening pink folds, still swollen from Frank’s relentless pounding. The bathroom door clicked shut. The shower started. Lou sat there, shaking, hard as stone and utterly powerless.

Jo emerged from the shower wrapped in a towel, her skin flushed and smelling of jasmine. She dropped it carelessly at Lou’s feet as she strode past, leaving wet footprints on the hardwood. “Going out,” she announced, rummaging through the drawer for lacy black lingerie. She stepped into the panties slowly, letting him see every second of the fabric hugging her plump lips. Lou swallowed hard, watching as she fastened the matching bra—straps cutting into her shoulders, pushing her tits up in a way that made his cage throb. “Salon first,” she said, smirking as she caught him staring. “Gotta get waxed smooth for Frank.” Her fingers dragged along her inner thigh. “He loves it when I’m bare.” Lou flinched like she’d struck him. Jo rolled her eyes and grabbed her purse. “Then shopping. Need something *short* for tonight—something that’ll make his hands shake when I bend over.” She paused at the door, glancing back. “Oh, and since you’re so *concerned* about me being addicted… I might stop by the sex shop too. Frank’s been texting about trying a new toy.” Lou opened his mouth, but she was already gone—the slam of the door cutting off whatever pathetic protest he’d mustered. Alone, he slumped in his chair, aching and humiliated. The shower still ran in the bathroom, steam curling under the door, carrying the fading scent of her arousal.

Lou searches the bedroom for evidence of them fucking. He feels tortured but aroused.meanwhile Jo is enjoying her spree.

Lou waited until the front door clicked shut before staggering to his feet, his caged cock straining against its confines. The bedroom still smelled of sex—Frank’s musky cologne, Jo’s sweet arousal, the unmistakable tang of spent lust. He tore through the tangled sheets, fingers digging into damp spots, his throat tightening at the slick evidence of their fucking. His stomach twisted when he found the condom wrapper in the nightstand drawer—discarded, *empty*. A dark smear streaked the inside, sticky when he pressed his thumb to it. His pulse pounded as he lifted the pillow they’d shoved under Jo’s hips, his nose buried in fabric that reeked of her juices. Across town, Jo leaned back in the salon chair, legs spread as the aesthetician worked the wax down her inner thighs. She let out a soft moan—not from pain, but at the memory of Frank’s rough grip there last night. Her phone buzzed with another of his texts: *Can’t wait to stretch that tight little cunt again.* Lou’s breath hitched as he spotted a single long, dark hair caught in the headboard—*Frank’s*. He wrapped it around his finger, pulling until it snapped. His other hand palmed his cage, teeth gritted as pre-cum oozed uselessly through the bars. Jo smirked, tapping out a reply: *Bring the new toy. I want to ride it while Lou watches.*

Jo visits a tattoo parlour to be branded a queen of spades.she flirts with the tatooist.she has become a total slut but is enjoying the power she has over Lou

Jo pushed open the tattoo parlor door, the bell jingling as she stepped inside. The artist—a broad-shouldered man with ink crawling up his arms—looked up from his sketchbook, eyes darkening as they traced the curve of her bare thighs beneath her too-short skirt. “Queen of Spades,” she said, perching on the edge of his chair. “Right here.” Her fingers slid along the swell of her hip, the lace of her panties peeking out. The artist licked his lips. “That’s a statement.” His calloused thumb brushed her skin as he positioned the stencil, lingering just a second too long. Jo exhaled slowly, arching into his touch. “Got a problem with it?” He chuckled, low and rough. “Just admiring the canvas.” The buzz of the needle drowned out her quiet gasp as it bit into her flesh, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she pulled out her phone, snapping a photo of the half-finished work and sending it to Lou with the caption: *Property of black kings only now.* Across town, Lou’s phone vibrated against the crumpled sheets. His stomach dropped as he stared at the image—Jo’s smooth skin marked forever, the artist’s grip possessive on her thigh. The needle burned, but Jo’s smile only widened. She could already feel Frank’s approval vibrating through his texts, could imagine Lou’s choked sob when he saw her tonight—branded, claimed, *his* humiliation complete. The artist’s fingers tightened, and she let her knees fall wider. “Fuck,” he muttered, wiping away ink and blood. “You’re into this, huh?” Jo leaned back, baring her throat. “Deeper.”

Jo decides impulsively to have her nipples and belly button pierced. She becomes roused at her change from innocent sensible wife to hot black cock slut

Jo’s skin still burned from the fresh tattoo when she glanced at the piercer’s display—gleaming rings, barbells, captive beads catching the neon light. The thought hit her like a current: *more.* “While I’m here,” she said, fingers toying with the hem of her top, “I want these done.” She pinched her nipple through the thin fabric, watching the piercer’s throat bob. His eyes flicked down, then back to hers. “All three?” “*All three.*” She didn’t wait for permission before lifting her shirt, the cool air pebbling her bare skin. His breath hitched. She wasn’t wearing a bra. The first clamp bit down on her nipple, sharp and sudden. Jo gasped, her back arching off the chair—not in pain, but at the rush of heat between her legs. The piercer’s hands were steady as he lined up the needle, but she caught the way his knuckles whitened. “Still with me?” he asked, voice rough. Jo let out a shaky laugh. “Fuck yes.” The second clamp closed on her other nipple, her cunt clenching around nothing. This wasn’t just about the metal. It was the *transformation*—the way Lou would crumple when he saw her, his prim wife now adorned for *real* men. The needle punched through, a bright flare of pleasure-pain. She moaned, thighs pressing together as jewelry slid into place. The piercer’s palm pressed against her stomach to steady her, his thumb brushing the curve of her belly button. “Last one,” he murmured. “Unless you’ve got other ideas.” Jo’s phone buzzed—Frank’s name flashing. She didn’t check it. Instead, she spread her legs wider, the dampness on her thighs unmistakable. “Maybe next time,” she purred. “I’ve got someone waiting to test how sensitive these are.” Across town, Lou’s cage dug into his skin as he reread her message: *Your turn to lick them clean when they’re sore.* He tasted bile—and his own helpless arousal.

Jo starts her journey home in her open top convertible. Men checking her out while waiting at lights. She loves it and reflects back to when she was a mousey quiet shy wife

Jo slid into the driver’s seat of her convertible, the leather warm against her bare thighs. The engine purred to life, but she took her time adjusting the rearview mirror—letting the weight of men’s stares settle on her like fingers. At the red light, a construction worker leaned out of his truck, whistling low. She didn’t look away, just smirked and tugged the neckline of her tank top lower, the new piercings catching the sunlight. *Two years ago, she would’ve hunched her shoulders, desperate to disappear.* Now, she rolled her hips slightly as she shifted gears, delighting in how their eyes followed. The memory of her old self—cardigans buttoned to the collar, Lou’s timid approval—felt like someone else’s life. A biker pulled up beside her, gaze locked on the fresh ink peeking above her waistband. “Nice art,” he called over the rumble of his Harley. Jo traced the Queen of Spades with her thumb. “You should see the rest.” The light turned green. She hit the gas, leaving him staring. Frank’s text vibrated in her cup holder: *Stop teasing strangers and get your ass here.* She licked her lips, foot pressing harder on the accelerator. Lou’s misery could wait. She had priorities.

The wind whipped through Jo’s hair as she turned onto Frank’s street, her nipples still throbbing from the fresh metal. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of sensation straight to her core, the tightness of her jeans only amplifying the ache. Frank’s garage door was already open when she pulled in, the dim light inside revealing him leaning against his workbench, arms crossed. His grin was all teeth. “Took you long enough,” he said, eyes dropping to her chest. Jo didn’t bother with hello. She swung one leg over the bench to straddle him, grinding down against the hard line of his cock through his jeans. The piercings scraped against his shirt as she leaned in, biting his lower lip. “Had to give the audience a show,” she breathed. His hands clamped on her hips, yanking her closer. “Fuck the audience.” One rough palm slid under her top, fingertips pinching a barbell. Jo gasped, back arching as the sharp pleasure twisted deeper. Behind them, her phone lit up again—Lou’s name this time. Frank didn’t miss it. He dragged his thumb over her swollen lower lip. “Wanna answer?” Jo reached back and silenced it with a slap of her palm. “He can listen.” She rolled her hips again, dragging a groan from Frank’s throat. “*After* I’m done.”

Frank’s grin widened as he snatched Jo’s phone, thumb swiping to answer before pressing it between them on speaker. “Lou, buddy—you’re on with the boys,” he drawled, nodding toward the garage door where two of his friends leaned in the frame, smirking. Jo’s breath hitched but she didn’t stop grinding, the wet heat between her thighs soaking through her jeans as Lou’s confused voice crackled through. “Jo? What’s—what’s going on?” “Say hi, sweetheart,” Frank ordered, his free hand tangling in her hair to wrench her head back. The sting made her moan louder than she meant to, and one of the guys whistled. “*Hi, Lou*,” Jo purred, rocking harder against Frank’s cock, her voice dripping with saccharine malice. A pause on the line—then the choked sound of Lou’s realization. Frank’s fingers slid under her waistband, dragging the fabric down just enough to expose the top of her thong. “We were just talking about how much you love sharing,” he said, locking eyes with his friends. “Isn’t that right, Jo?” She bit her lip, nodding as Frank’s calloused fingers dipped lower. Lou’s ragged breathing filled the garage.

Jo had no intention of sharing herself with anyone but Frank but now she was intrigued and highly aroused

Jo’s pulse hammered as Frank’s fingers teased the soaked fabric of her thong, her earlier defiance twisting into something hotter, darker. The way his friends stared—hungry, waiting—sent a fresh rush of wetness between her thighs. Lou’s ragged breaths through the phone only stoked the fire. Frank’s lips brushed her ear. “Changed your mind yet?” His fingers pressed harder, the rough pad of his thumb circling her clit through the lace. A whimper escaped her, hips jerking against his hand. “Maybe,” she gasped, gaze flicking to the men in the doorway. One of them licked his lips, adjusting his jeans. Frank chuckled, low and satisfied. “Good girl.” He yanked her thong aside without warning, two fingers plunging into her dripping cunt. Jo cried out, back arching as the callouses scraped her inner walls. The phone clattered to the bench, Lou’s voice rising in protest, but all she could focus on was Frank’s smirk and the way his friends stepped closer. “Who first?” he asked, twisting his fingers.

Jo’s mind was a riot of conflicting impulses—shame and arousal tangled in a vicious dance. Every thrust of Frank’s fingers sent sparks up her spine, but it was the weight of his friends’ stares that made her clench around him. *Fuck*, she hated how wet she was, how her body betrayed her even as Lou’s voice crackled impotently from the phone. She knew she should pull away, should shove Frank back and reclaim some scrap of dignity—but the heat pooling low in her belly had other ideas. The way the taller one licked his lips, the way the other palmed his cock through his jeans... it made her thighs tremble. Frank’s smirk told her he knew it, too. “Answer me, baby,” he growled, crooking his fingers just right. Her toes curled. *I’m not like this*, she lied to herself, even as she rocked into his hand. The lie evaporated when the first man unbuckled his belt.

Frank has to pull her towards his friends she realises there is no going back after this. And Lou what would he do. Fuck him

Frank's grip tightened on Jo's wrist, dragging her forward toward the men crowding the doorway. The click of the belt buckle hitting the floor echoed in her ears, sharp and final. There was no turning back now—just the heavy pulse between her thighs and the frantic static of Lou's voice still spilling from the abandoned phone. The taller one caught her free hand, pressing it against the thick outline of his cock straining against his zipper. "That's it," he murmured. His fingers twined with hers, forcing her to stroke him through the denim. Frank's laugh was dark with approval. "Lou's gonna lose his goddamn mind." He twisted Jo's wrist slightly, making her gasp, then leaned down to snatch the phone off the bench. "You hear that, cuck? She's *begging* for it." Jo's breath hitched as the second man hooked a finger under her thong, snapping the delicate lace. The fabric gave way, baring her completely to their hungry stares. Lou's voice rose in a strangled shout, but it barely registered—not with Frank's fingers still buried inside her, not with the heat of another man's palm sliding up her inner thigh. She didn't resist when they pushed her to her knees.

She turns her head away. Is this what she wants. What will her work colleagues think of her and what about her family

Jo turned her face away, but the sting of shame only sharpened her arousal. The hardwood dug into her knees as Frank’s friend fisted a hand in her hair, forcing her gaze up to the thick cock bobbing in front of her lips. *What would they say at the office if they saw her now?* The thought flickered—her boss’s stern disapproval, her prim coworkers’ scandalized whispers—before dissolving into static as the man’s precome smeared across her bottom lip. Frank’s voice dripped with amusement. "Bet they’d love to know how you suck dick when no one’s watching." His fingers twisted deeper inside her, coaxing a whine from her throat. Her family—christ, her *mother*—flashed through her mind, but the pulse between her legs drowned out the guilt. The second man thumbed her clit roughly, and she opened her mouth without thinking. The first groan she heard wasn’t her own—it was Lou’s, ragged and broken through the phone. Frank shoved it against her ear. "Tell him," he demanded. She moaned around the cock filling her mouth, the vibration wrenching a curse from the man above her. The last coherent thought she had was how little she cared about anything but the taste of salt on her tongue.

The thinks about Lou. How his fantasies have bought her to this. Lou irritates her with his pathetic cock and weakness. She humiliates him on the phone

Her throat worked around the thick intrusion, spit slicking the shaft as she sucked with deliberate slowness—just to hear Lou’s choked gasp crackle through the phone. *Pathetic.* The word curled hot in her chest. His fantasies had dragged her here, but it was his *weakness* that kept her lips sealed tight around another man’s cock. Frank jerked the phone closer. “Lou’s crying,” he taunted, grinding his palm against her clit. “You like that? Your wife gagging on a real dick while you jack your little clit in the dark?” Moaning, she hollowed her cheeks, taking him deeper. The man above her swore, hips twitching. She could almost *see* Lou’s trembling fingers, his useless erection straining in his hand. The image sent a bolt of dark satisfaction through her. “Tell him,” Frank growled. She pulled off with a wet pop. “You wanted this,” she panted, voice wrecked. “Hear that, Lou? *I’m* the one getting fucked. *You’re* just—“ The man yanked her head back, cutting her off as he shoved into her mouth again. Lou’s sob was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.

She belittles Lou. She has nasty thoughts about what she will do with him when she returns home. Oh how he will suffer

She let the phone clatter to the floor, Frank’s laughter ringing in her ears as the man in her mouth fucked her throat in short, brutal strokes. *Good.* Let Lou listen to the wet, choking sounds she made—let him imagine the stretch of her lips, the obscene slide of a cock she actually *wanted*. Her fingers dug into the man’s hips, nails biting flesh as she took him deeper. When she got home, she’d make Lou kneel just like this, force him to lick her clean while she told him *exactly* how much better these men fucked her. Frank’s fingers twisted in her hair, wrenching her head back just to watch the man’s cock glide over her tongue. "Gonna lock him up again, Jo?" he mocked. "Make him beg just to touch you after this?" She smirked around the thick length, tongue swirling just to hear Lou whimper through the phone. *Oh, he’d beg alright.* And she’d make sure he never forgot his place—not when she was dripping with another man’s come, not when she made him swallow every drop. The man above her groaned, fingers tightening. "Fuck, *take it*—" She did, and Lou’s broken sob was her reward.