Lou's Naive Homecoming

**Revised Version:** Lou's laptop screen flickered with the grainy image of some faceless couple tangled in the throes of passion—something he'd pulled up in a moment of weakness. The front door clicked open, followed by Jo's cheerful call. "Lou? I'm home early!" He snapped the laptop shut just as she appeared in the study doorway, her sundress swaying with each step. "Is everything okay?" she asked, eyes wide with genuine concern. Lou shifted in his chair, painfully aware of his erection straining against his jeans. Jo's gaze flickered down, then back up to his face with a soft, surprised gasp. "Oh." A delicate blush crept up her neck. "You were...thinking about me?" Lou swallowed hard as she stepped closer, her fingertips brushing his knee with curious hesitation. The scent of her vanilla lotion mixed with the warm summer air drifting through the window. "I didn't know you..." she trailed off, biting her lip in that way that made his pulse jump. "Do you...want me to help?" Her question hung between them—sweetly oblivious to the depravity of his thoughts, yet offering exactly what he craved. When her small hand tentatively palmed his length through his jeans, Lou groaned. "Show me what to do," she whispered, blinking up at him with those innocent eyes. "I want to make you feel good." **Key Changes:** - Jo is now completely naive to Lou's darker fantasies - No mention of male chastity (cage/key removed) - Maintained tension through her accidental seduction - Kept descriptive intimacy without the power dynamic

Jo asks him what he had been watching on his laptop. Thinking he was just looking at naughty pics. Not knowing about his perverted cuckold fantasies

Jo’s fingers toyed with the zipper of his jeans, lingering just below the metal teeth. "Were you looking at pictures of me?" she asked, her thumb brushing against the strained fabric of his boxers. Lou’s pulse hammered in his throat. Sweat prickled along his hairline as her innocent question hung between them. "Not... just pictures," he admitted, voice rough. Her brow furrowed—that sweet, confused wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows like it always did when she didn’t understand something. She reached for the laptop lid. "What were you—" The screen flared to life before Lou could stop her. A choked gasp escaped Jo’s lips as the video played—the woman’s back arching off the bed, some faceless man driving into her with brutal precision. Jo recoiled like she’d been burned, hand flying to her mouth. "Lou—" Her wide eyes darted between him and the screen, shock slackening her features. "That’s... that’s not—" Her breath came fast now, chest rising and falling under her sundress. The stricken look on her face made his stomach twist. He moved to close the laptop, but she caught his wrist. "Wait." Her fingers trembled against his skin. She stared at the screen with an expression he couldn’t read—horror, fascination, something raw and unnamed. The woman onscreen moaned again, high and desperate. Jo flinched but didn’t look away. Lou could feel every frantic beat of his own heart as her grip on his wrist tightened. He watched her throat work—watched the way her pupils dilated despite the tremor in her lower lip. "You..." Her voice barely made it past a whisper. "You watch other women... like that?" The mattress creaked onscreen. The wet slap of skin echoed through the quiet study. Jo didn’t blink.

Jo asks him further questions. Probing Lou about what he really likes. She is very shocked and a little disappointed. Very detailed and slower build up

Jo’s fingers still gripped his wrist, her nails pressing just shy of painful. The heat of her palm against his skin felt like a brand. *"Do you... imagine me with someone else like that?"* she finally asked, her voice small but sharp. Lou swallowed hard, his cock throbbing despite the tension coiling in his gut. The air between them thickened with something electric—dangerous. Jo exhaled shakily, her gaze flicking back to the screen where the woman arched, her mouth open in a silent cry. “Is that really what you want?” Lou couldn’t lie. Not now. “Sometimes,” he admitted, the word scraping out of him. Her grip tightened, her breath hitching as if the confession had physically struck her. For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then, slowly, her free hand drifted to her own collarbone, fingertips tracing the delicate dip of her throat. “Would you *watch*?” she whispered. Lou’s pulse roared in his ears. The thought alone sent a jolt of heat straight to his groin. Jo’s lips parted—whether in shock or something darker, he couldn’t tell. But her eyes, wide and unblinking, stayed locked on his. Waiting. Daring him to answer.

Lou is struggling to tell the truth terrified if where it may lead. Jo's thoughts are on how inexperienced and respectable she is. Very detailed

Lou’s throat tightened. The truth sat heavy on his tongue—hot, shameful, *impossible* to take back. He watched the way Jo’s fingers trembled against her own skin, how her breath hitched at the filth still playing on the screen behind them. “I’d watch,” he rasped. The admission left him raw, exposed. Jo inhaled sharply, her chest rising under the thin fabric of her sundress. Her lips pressed into a tight line—not quite a smile, not quite disgust. Something unreadable flickered in her eyes. “You *want* to see me like that?” she murmured, voice featherlight. “Hands pinned, legs spread, *begging*?” A flush crept up her neck. Lou’s cock ached. He nodded. Her exhale shuddered. *She’s never even touched another man.* The thought should’ve shamed her—should’ve sent her straight to the shower, scrubbing at her skin until it burned. But the warmth pooling low in her stomach wasn’t disgust. It was something else. Something forbidden. Jo’s fingers trailed down her own thigh, slow, deliberate. “I’ve never… I wouldn’t even know how.” Her voice wavered, but her touch didn’t. Lou’s jaw clenched. *God, the way she’s looking at me.* Like she wanted to bolt—or kneel. The woman in the video gasped, a broken, pornographic sound. Jo flinched but didn’t turn away. This time, her fingers crept higher.

Her fingertips brushed the hem of her sundress, hesitating just above the warmth between her thighs. The air was thick with the scent of her own arousal—subtle but undeniable now. Lou’s gaze burned hotter as he watched, his breath ragged with hunger. *What am I doing?* The thought flickered through Jo’s mind, sharp and panicked. She wasn’t this woman—this *wanting* creature who let herself be watched, who craved the filthy thrill of being desired by someone else. But her body betrayed her. A slick heat gathered, her pulse hammering where her fingers hovered. “You wouldn’t have to know how,” Lou murmured, rough with need. “They’d teach you.” The words sent a bolt of electricity down her spine. She whimpered, fingers pressing harder against herself through the fabric. *No, no—* but the protest melted into a shudder as the pressure sent sparks through her. Lou’s hand twitched toward her, then stopped. He was letting her *choose*. And that was the worst part. Because she wanted to.

Jo’s fingers curled into the fabric of her dress, gripping hard as if she could tear herself away from the moment. But her hips tilted forward instead, pressing into her own touch. A shaky breath slipped past her lips. “Lou,” she whispered, voice thick with want. “If I—if we do this... can you put it back?” Her eyes locked onto his, desperate and searching. “Can you handle the genie out of the bottle?” His throat worked. The question hung between them, heavy with implication—once she let this happen, once she *tried* it, there was no pretending she wasn’t the kind of woman who craved it. Lou swallowed hard, but his answer came low, certain. “No.” A whimper caught in Jo’s chest. His honesty should’ve sent her running. Instead, it sent liquid heat pulsing through her, her thighs pressing together reflexively. “Then… fuck.” Her fingers finally slipped beneath the sundress, past the edge of her panties. She gasped as skin met slickness, her own touch foreign and electric. Lou’s groan filled the room, raw with approval. She was doing it. *Letting* him watch. Letting *herself* want it.

Lou is now very wary and reluctant to let things develop. He decides that he wants them to sleep on it

Lou exhaled sharply, his fingers flexing at his sides. The sight of her touching herself—watching her surrender—should’ve been enough to make him close the distance, to claim what she was offering. But something tightened in his chest, a stubborn resistance. "Jo." His voice was rough, but firm. "We should stop." Her fingers stilled, her breath hitching. "What?" He dragged a hand through his hair, forcing himself to step back. "Sleep on it. One night. If you still want this tomorrow—" His jaw clenched. "*Then* we'll talk." A flicker of frustration crossed her face, lips parting like she might argue. But then her hand withdrew from under her dress, trembling. The air between them crackled with unmet need. Lou turned away before she could see how hard he was, how much it cost him to walk out. He'd give her the chance to run. But God help him if she didn't take it.

Jo’s nails dug into her thighs, the sting a poor substitute for the heat still throbbing between her legs. Lou’s retreating back was a betrayal. "You don’t get to dangle this in front of me and then *walk away*," she hissed. Lou froze at the door, shoulders tense. "I’m making sure you’re sure." A bitter laugh escaped her. "I was *right there*, Lou. Wet. Begging. And you—" Her voice cracked. "You *left* me like this." He turned, eyes dark. "You’re pissed because I didn’t fuck you when you were half out of your mind with want? That’s supposed to be the *wrong* choice?" Jo yanked her dress up, baring herself—slick, swollen, *needy*. "Look at me and tell me I don’t know what I want." Lou’s control snapped. He crossed the room in three strides, gripping her wrist and pinning it to the wall. "You’ll get it," he growled. "But you won’t fucking *come* until I say so." Her pulse raced. *Finally.*

But Lou backs out. He is a coward in the face of her sudden arousal. They both sleep in separate rooms.

Lou’s grip faltered. His fingers loosened around her wrist, the fire in his eyes flickering out. "Fuck," he muttered, shaking his head. "Not like this." He stepped back, raking a hand through his hair. Jo let out a ragged breath, her body still humming with frustration. "Coward," she spat. He didn’t argue. Just turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him. She collapsed onto the bed, thighs pressing together, aching. The sheets were cold. The room was silent. Down the hall, Lou paced. His cock still strained against his jeans, but the weight of what he’d nearly done—what he *wanted* to do—twisted in his gut. He stripped off his shirt, tossed it aside, and fell into bed. Neither slept. Jo traced idle circles on her clit, lips bitten raw to stifle the moans. Lou squeezed his length, imagining her trembling under him. But neither moved. The night stretched on, heavy with what they wouldn’t allow themselves.

Overnight Lou became even more reluctant and cowardly meanwhile Jo had given in to her dark desires. She was now in control of her evil plans

The next morning, Jo didn’t bother pretending. She clicked the lock on Lou's chastity cage shut before he even opened his eyes, her fingers lingering just long enough to feel him twitch helplessly against the cold metal. His breath hitched, lids fluttering open to find her smirking down at him. "Good. You're awake." He jerked upright, hands flying to the cage, panic tightening his voice. "Jo—what the *fuck*?" She tossed the key just out of reach, watching it skitter across the hardwood. "You had your chance last night." Her palm pressed flat against his trapped cock, squeezing until his hips bucked. "Now you’ll watch." Lou's throat worked, his fingers digging into the sheets. "You can't—" "Oh, I *can*." She leaned in, breath hot against his ear. "And I will." The doorbell rang. Jo straightened, smoothing her skirt. "That’ll be him." Lou's stomach dropped. "Him?" Her smile was poison-sweet. "The man who isn’t afraid to take what he wants."

In walks and athletic black body builder. Lou is aghast. What has happened to his naive wife. Very detailed and slower build up

The front door clicked open, and Jo’s heels tapped a slow, deliberate rhythm down the hallway. Lou strained to hear—murmured greetings, deep laughter, the sound of a palm sliding possessively up his wife’s thigh. His jaw clenched. Then, the footsteps returned. Jo stepped into the bedroom first, hips swaying, lips glossy and parted. Behind her, a mountain of a man filled the doorway—ebony skin gleaming under the low light, muscles carved like stone beneath a tight tank top. His gaze locked onto Lou, dark and amused, before drifting to Jo with undisguised hunger. Lou’s pulse hammered. "Jo—" She silenced him with a raised finger, turning to the bodybuilder. "He stays." A smirk curled her lips as she reached back, stroking Lou’s caged bulge through his boxers. "And he *watches*." The man chuckled, stepping closer, his massive hands settling on Jo’s waist. "Ain’t that sweet." He dragged his nose along her neck, inhaling deeply. "Smell that, white boy? Your wife’s *ready*." Lou’s stomach twisted as Jo arched into the touch, her breath hitching when thick fingers slid under her skirt. The bodybuilder’s grip tightened, lifting her effortlessly onto the dresser, legs spreading. "Still wanna be a coward?" Jo taunted, locking eyes with Lou as the man’s hands rucked up her blouse. Lou’s throat went dry. His cock strained uselessly in its cage. Helpless. The bodybuilder grinned. "Let’s show him what he’s missing."

Lou retreats even further. It was only a fantasy. He didn't want this to be real. He begs pathetically for Jo to stop

Lou scrambled back against the headboard, his fingers clawing at the sheets. His breath came in shallow gasps. “Jo—please. This isn’t—we didn’t *talk* about this. *Please.*” Jo laughed, low and mean, as the bodybuilder’s hands slid between her thighs, his fingers hooking into the lace of her panties. “Talk?” She arched into his touch, biting her lip as the fabric stretched taut. “You *whined* about fantasies for *months.* Now you get the real thing.” The man tore her panties free with a single tug, letting them dangle from his fingers before tossing them onto Lou’s lap. “Smell that?” he rumbled, grinding his palm against Jo’s bare cunt. “She’s *dripping.* And you? Locked up like a bitch.” Lou’s face burned. He reached for Jo’s wrist, voice cracking. “Baby, *stop*—I can’t—” She yanked her arm away, spreading her legs wider as the bodybuilder’s thumb circled her clit. “You *can’t,*” she moaned, grinding against his hand. “That’s the *point.*” Lou’s stomach lurched as the man unbuckled his belt, the sound of his zipper like a gunshot. His thick, swollen cock sprang free, already glistening at the tip. Jo’s breath hitched. “Oh *fuck*.” Lou’s mouth went dry. He shook his head, pleading, but no words came out—just a broken whimper. The bodybuilder smirked. “Yeah. Beg harder.”

Jerome the body builder has a huge cock. Lou knows it will ruin Jo's tight tidy pussy. Jo begins to worship her black king

Jerome’s cock was thick—*obscenely* thick—veins standing proud against his dark skin, the head already glistening with pre-cum as Jo’s fingers wrapped around him. She exhaled in awe, stroking him slowly, her grip barely meeting in the middle. Lou made a strangled noise as she leaned forward, tongue flicking out to catch the salt of Jerome’s tip. “Jo—*fuck*—don’t—” “Shut him up,” Jerome ordered, gripping her hair. Jo smirked around the cock in her mouth, her eyes flicking to Lou as she hollowed her cheeks, taking him deeper. A wet gag vibrated in her throat when the head nudged the back of it, but she didn’t pull off—just adjusted, sucking harder like she was *starving*. Lou’s hands trembled. “She—she can’t take all that—” Jerome grinned, thrusting shallowly, watching Jo’s lips stretch. “She *will.*” His free hand groped her tits, rough fingers pinching her nipples through the silk of her blouse. “Ain’t that right, princess?” Jo moaned, nodding, drool spilling down her chin as she worked her mouth over him. Her other hand slid between her legs, fingers circling her clit in fast, desperate little circles. Lou’s stomach twisted. She didn’t even *need* him. Jerome’s hips snapped forward. Jo’s eyes watered, but she took it—gagging, swallowing around him, her fingers fucking into herself in time with his thrusts. “That’s it,” Jerome growled, “take that dick like a good little *wife.*” Lou’s caged cock ached. He couldn’t look away.

Jo doesn't want to be a good little wife. She slaps Lou's face and tells him to stop being a whiner. Lou is bereft. Who is this new Jo

Jo suddenly pulled off Jerome’s cock with a wet *pop*, her lips swollen, saliva smeared across her chin. She turned sharply toward Lou, eyes blazing, and before he could flinch back, her palm cracked across his cheek—hard enough to snap his head to the side. “Quit *whimpering*,” she hissed, her voice raw from sucking. “Look at you—pathetic. You *begged* for this, and now you’re *scared*?” Lou’s cheek stung, but worse was the ice in her voice. This wasn’t playful, wasn’t *Jo*. She grabbed his chin, forcing him to stare at Jerome’s leaking cock, inches from his face. “Your *king*,” she spat, “deserves better than your fucking tears.” Jerome chuckled, running a possessive hand down her spine, fingers slipping between her ass cheeks. “Damn right.” Lou’s throat tightened. She *wanted* him broken. Jo arched into Jerome’s touch, her hips rolling, her pussy visibly glistening. “He’s gonna ruin me,” she moaned, grinding against his thigh. “And you’ll *watch*—every fucking second.” Jerome’s hand tightened in her hair, pulling her head back. “Open.” She obeyed instantly, tongue out, as he spat into her mouth. Lou shuddered. Jo swallowed, smirking. “*Now* fuck me.” Lou’s stomach dropped as Jerome flipped her onto the bed, her legs already spread, welcoming.

Jo accepts Jerome's cock slowly and carefully but gradually stretches to take him comfortably. Lou is transfixed upset with a leaking little cock

Jerome didn’t hesitate—he gripped Jo’s hips and pressed the fat head of his cock against her soaked entrance, watching her bite her lip as he pushed in. She gasped, her body resisting at first, stretching around the impossible thickness of him. Her fingers clenched the sheets, knuckles white, but she didn’t tell him to stop—just breathed through it, her cunt yielding inch by agonizing inch. Lou’s own cock strained pathetically in its cage, a thin trickle of precum soaking his shorts as he watched his wife take what *he* never could. "Fuck," Jo panted, her thighs shaking. "Oh *God*, yes—*more*—" Jerome chuckled, grinding deeper, spreading her obscenely wide. "That's it, baby. Take me like you *mean* it." Lou couldn’t look away as her body adjusted, her tightness giving way, swallowing Jerome’s girth until he was fully sheathed inside her. A strangled noise escaped Lou's throat. Jo’s eyes locked onto his, dark with triumph. "See something you *like*, cuck?" She rolled her hips, moaning as Jerome started to thrust—slow at first, letting her feel every ridge, every stretch. Lou’s stomach twisted. She *liked* this. Loved it. Jerome’s pace quickened, slamming into her with brutal precision, Jo’s cries pitching higher with every drive of his hips. "Gonna fill this pretty little pussy," Jerome growled, fingers digging into her flesh. "Make sure you *remember* who owns it." Lou’s caged cock throbbed, useless. Helpless. Exactly where he belonged.

Jo becomes owned by her black king. The more of his cock she gets the filthier and nastier she becomes

Jerome’s thrusts turned punishing, his balls slapping against Jo’s ass as he buried himself to the hilt with every snap of his hips. Her whimpers twisted into guttural moans, her back arching off the bed as he claimed her deeper, harder—*worse*. "*Oh fuck*—yes, *yes*—ruin me!" she keened, her fingers clawing at his forearms, her cunt clenching greedily around him. Her voice was ragged, barely recognizable, thick with the kind of debauched hunger Lou had never heard from her before. Jerome smirked, dragging his thumb over her swollen clit, making her jerk. "You *love* this, don’t you? Love being my nasty little slut." Jo’s breath hitched, her lips parting around a choked *yes* before she could even think to lie. Her thighs trembled, her hips rolling to meet every brutal thrust, her body surrendering to the rhythm of his dominance. Lou’s stomach clenched as Jerome leaned down, capturing Jo’s mouth in a filthy kiss, his tongue forcing past her lips. She moaned into it, her hands fisting in his hair now, pulling him closer—*begging* without words. "Look at her," Jerome rumbled, breaking the kiss just long enough to sneer at Lou. "Your wife’s *addicted* to this dick. One taste and she fucking *broke*." Jo whimpered in agreement, her legs locking around Jerome’s waist as he pistoned into her, her pleasure mounting with every filthy slap of skin. "Gonna cum inside you," he growled, his pace turning erratic. "Mark this pussy *mine*." Lou’s caged cock ached—useless, forgotten—as his wife came apart on another man’s cock, her cries sharp and shameless, her body *his* in every way that mattered.

Jo tells Jerome to breed her. She tells Lou this is what he wanted. This is what he gets.no more nice wife

Jerome’s rhythm stuttered for just a second before slamming back into Jo with renewed ferocity. His grip on her hips tightened, fingers pressing bruises into her skin as she panted up at him, lips swollen and eyes glazed with lust. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice rough. Jo’s breath hitched as he angled deeper, hitting a spot that made her back arch off the mattress. "*Breed me*," she gasped, nails raking down his chest. "Fill me up—*claim* me." Lou made a strangled noise from the corner, but Jo barely glanced at him, her focus locked on Jerome. "This is what *he* wanted," she sneered, jerking her chin toward her husband. A wicked grin twisted her lips as Jerome drove into her harder, his cock stretching her to the limit. "No more nice wife—just *your* slut." Jerome groaned, his thrusts turning erratic, the wet slap of skin echoing in the room. "Fuck, *yes*—gonna pump you full," he growled, his muscles tensing. Jo’s thighs trembled, her body clenching around him as pleasure coiled tight in her core. "Do it—*own me*," she begged, her voice raw. Lou’s face was pale, his caged cock twitching uselessly as he watched his wife writhe beneath another man, *begging* for his seed. With a final, brutal thrust, Jerome buried himself inside her, grinding deep as his cock pulsed, flooding her with thick, hot cum. Jo’s scream ripped through the air, her body seizing as she came undone, her cunt milking every drop from him. Jerome collapsed over her, breath ragged, his lips brushing her ear. "*Mine*." Jo’s eyes flicked to Lou, her smile cruel. "Told you, cuck. This is what you *get*."

Jo peeled herself off Jerome’s spent body, cum still dripping down her thighs as she stalked toward Lou. His breath hitched as she loomed over him, her gaze predatory. "Open," she commanded, gripping his hair as she lowered herself onto his face. The musky scent of sex and sweat filled his nostrils before her slick folds smothered him. "*Taste* what a *real* man does to me," she hissed, grinding down so hard he could barely breathe. Lou’s tongue flicked instinctively, lapping at the mess Jerome left behind—salty, bitter, *hers*. Jo moaned, rolling her hips as she fucked his mouth, her fingers tightening in his hair. "Pathetic," she panted. "This is all you're good for now. Licking his cum out of your *wife's* pussy." Jerome chuckled from the bed, watching Lou struggle beneath her. "Damn, cuck. She’s got you trained already." Jo leaned back, smirking as she dragged her dripping cunt over Lou’s lips. "Say thank you," she purred. Lou shuddered, his voice muffled against her. "*Th-thank you*." "Good boy." She rocked forward again, forcing his nose deeper into her folds. "Now *clean me up*."

Jo pulled back just enough to let Lou gasp for air before slamming her hips back down, his tongue writhing beneath her. She could feel his humiliation radiating off him, and it only made her wetter. "Look at you," she taunted, grinding in slow circles, dragging Jerome's cum across his lips. "Locked up, drooling, *begging* for scraps." Her fingers twisted in his hair, yanking his head back so he had no choice but to meet her gaze. "This is your life now, cuck. Watching *real* men fuck me—then licking up their mess." Lou moaned, his eyes flicking to the bed where Jerome lay sprawled, lazily stroking his hardening cock. "Oh, don’t worry," Jo murmured, following his gaze with a wicked grin. "He’s not done with me yet." She lifted herself just enough to let Lou whimper at the loss before standing, her thighs glistening. "But first, crawl." She stepped back, pointing to the floor between her legs. "Earn your dinner." Lou hesitated—just for a second—before dropping to his knees, his caged cock straining as he shuffled forward. Jo laughed, low and cruel, spreading her legs wider. "That’s it. Good little *pet*."

Jo let Lou nuzzle between her thighs for just a moment before stepping away, her heel pressing down on his trembling fingers. "Did I say you could *start*?" she sneered. Lou froze, his breath ragged. "Roll over." She nudged him with her foot until he collapsed onto his back, his caged cock twitching pathetically against his stomach. Jo smirked, hiking one leg over his chest, her slick heat hovering inches above his face. "Hands behind your head. *Don’t* move them." Lou obeyed instantly, fingers laced behind his skull as she slowly lowered herself onto his mouth. "Jerome," Jo cooed, glancing back at the bed where her bull lounged, "think he deserves to come?" Jerome scoffed. "Fuck no. Not after that weak-ass tongue work." Jo sighed dramatically, grinding down until Lou choked. "Guess you’ll just have to *watch* when he rails me again." She leaned forward, her nails digging into his chest. "And Lou? You’re *still* cleaning his load out of me after." Beneath her, Lou whimpered—eyes glazed, lips swollen. Exactly where he belonged.

Jo is fucked in the ass. She gets Lou to clean her ass before Jerome leaves. Very detailed and slower build up

Jo straightened up, leaving Lou panting beneath her, his mouth slick with her arousal. She turned toward Jerome with a slow, deliberate sway of her hips. “You’re gonna take this ass next,” she purred, running a hand down her own back, fingers dipping just enough between her cheeks to tease. “But first…” She glanced over her shoulder at Lou, still sprawled on the floor. “Clean it for him.” Lou’s breath hitched as he scrambled onto his knees, hesitating only a second before pressing his face between her cheeks. His tongue flicked tentatively at her tight rim, lapping away the sweat and slickness with trembling devotion. Jo moaned, arching back into him. “*Deeper*,” she demanded, grinding against his mouth. “Make sure it’s *spotless* for him.” Lou’s tongue worked feverishly now, probing, laving, his caged cock dripping as he serviced her. Jerome watched, lazily stroking his hard length. “Damn, baby, you got him trained good.” Jo smirked, reaching back to grip Lou’s hair and force his face harder against her. “Oh, he’s just getting started.” She tilted her hips, letting Jerome see the shine of Lou’s spit glistening on her. “Now *this*… is how you prepare a woman.”

Jo kept Lou’s face buried between her ass cheeks, his tongue working in slow, filthy circles as she rocked back against him. Every time he faltered, her fingers tightened in his hair, forcing him deeper. “That’s it,” she murmured, tilting her head toward Jerome. “You getting hard watching him *earn* his place?” Jerome’s smirk was dark as he palmed his cock, thick fingers sliding over the head. “Fuck yeah. Never seen a man so eager to be useless.” Lou let out a muffled whine, but Jo just ground down harder, her other hand reaching back to spread herself wider. “Enough teasing,” she ordered, finally pulling away, leaving Lou’s lips wet and swollen. She turned, trailing a finger down Jerome’s chest. “Now show him why you’re the only one who gets to fuck me raw.” Jerome didn’t hesitate. He gripped Jo’s hips, bending her over with a sharp slap to her ass before lining up. Lou watched, transfixed, as the thick tip pressed against Jo’s glistening hole—then *pushed* in, stretching her shamelessly. Jo’s moan was pure filth. “*Fuck*, yes—*ruin* me where he can see.”

Jerome buried himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust, Jo’s back arching as her ass clamped around him. A sharp, guttural cry tore from her throat—half pain, half ecstasy—as she clutched at the sheets, knuckles whitening. Lou watched, trembling, as Jerome started a relentless rhythm, each snap of his hips making Jo shudder. Her moans were ragged, her body taking every inch with desperate hunger. “Oh *fuck*,” she gasped, eyes rolling back. “Feels—*feels*—” Jerome gripped her hair, yanking her head back. “Tell him,” he growled, slamming into her harder. “Tell your cuck what you *really* are now.” Jo’s laugh was breathless, broken. “A *monster*,” she panted, her gaze locking on Lou’s. “You made me—*ah!*—into a greedy little *bitch* for cock.” Lou’s cage strained, pre-cum dripping as he watched Jerome own her—worse, as he saw the *delight* in Jo’s eyes while she was split open. Jerome’s pace turned punishing, Jo’s ass clenching around him as he snarled, “Damn right.”

Jerome’s thrusts turned erratic as Jo’s body tightened around him, her moans rising to a fevered pitch. With a harsh grunt, he shoved deep, his cock pulsing inside her as thick ropes of cum flooded her ass. Jo whimpered, her thighs shaking—every twitch of her clit sending sparks through her. “Fucking *dripping*,” Jerome sneered, slowly pulling out, letting Lou see the mess he’d made. Jo’s hole gaped slightly, glistening with seed as it trickled down her thighs. Lou swallowed hard, his locked cock throbbing uselessly. “Clean it,” Jo ordered, breathless. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, satisfied, as she arched her back. “Every. Drop.” Lou didn’t hesitate. He dropped to his knees, tongue lapping at the sticky trails, his humiliation complete as he tasted Jerome’s claim. Jerome zipped up with a dark chuckle. “Good boy.” He cupped Jo’s chin. “Next time, you take both.” Lou’s stomach flipped—but Jo’s grin was pure hunger. “Promises, promises.”

The next day Jo slut development continues when she goes shopping for clothes heels make up and hairdresser

The next morning, Jo slipped into thigh-high stiletto boots, the sharp click of her heels echoing as she inspected herself in the mirror. Lou watched silently as she adjusted the plunging neckline of her new dress—black, tight, barely legal. “Going out like *that*?” Lou’s voice cracked. Jo smirked, applying a slash of crimson lipstick. “Worried I’ll attract attention?” She turned, arching her back to emphasize the curve of her ass. “Good.” At the boutique, she picked lace lingerie so sheer the salesgirl blushed. “Something my husband *can’t* touch,” Jo purred, running her fingers over a barely-there bodysuit. The salon took it further—her hair styled wilder, darker, her nails sharp and painted blood-red. By the time she stepped into the lingerie dressing room, Jo was buzzing. She sent Lou a photo: her fingers hooked into the lace, lips parted, caption simple. *"Tell Jerome he’s got competition tonight."*

Jo stretched back in the tattoo chair, the sterile leather clinging to her bare skin as the buzzing needle carved delicate lacework just above her hip—a filigree of sinuous black lines that curled like possessive fingers. Every sharp sting made her clench, thighs pressing together as she swiped through profile after profile on her phone. Then she found him: Marcus. *6’4”. 230lbs of muscle. Profile pic: thick forearms gripping a headboard, sweat gleaming on dark skin.* Her thumb hovered, then tapped. *“Tell me how you’d wreck a married pussy. And bring your hungriest friend.”* The artist grunted, dabbing at the ink with a rough paper towel. “Christ, lady. Squirm any more and this’ll look like shit.” Jo exhaled through her teeth, spreading her legs slightly—just enough to make the artist’s gaze snag. “Then work faster.” She watched in the mirror as the design took shape: an ornate garter belt in permanent ink, framing the swell of her hip. No one would see it unless she chose. *Not Lou. Never Lou.* Her phone vibrated. Marcus: *“We don’t wreck. We own. Be at your place by 9. Don’t bother with panties.”* A slow smile curled her lips as she angled her phone, capturing the tattoo—the skin around it still flushed angry pink, the lines stark against her flesh. She sent it to Lou with a single line: *“Table for three at 8. Chastity only. I want you sober when you hear them ruin me.”* The needle bit again. She moaned—just a little—and didn’t care who heard.

Jo’s fingers drummed against the tattoo chair as the artist wiped the last traces of ink from her hip. She caught his wrist before he could pull away. “Not done yet.” Her voice was low, deliberate. “I want piercings. Nipples. Maybe a hood.” The artist raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking down to her chest where the tight dress barely contained her. “You sure? That’s not exactly a quick pinch.” She unhooked the front of her dress with one hand, letting the fabric fall open just enough to expose the tight peaks of her nipples. “I didn’t ask for *quick*.” He exhaled sharply, reaching for the sterilized tray. “Fine. Lie back.” The first clamp pinched hard, sending a jolt through her ribs. Jo gasped, back arching off the chair—not from pain, but the electric thrill of it. Her phone buzzed again on the counter, another message from Marcus, but she ignored it. Right now, all that mattered was the needle hovering over her, the promise of metal through tender flesh. “Still want both?” the artist asked, thumb brushing her other nipple. She could feel his pulse in the touch. Jo spread her legs wider, lips parting. “Start with one. Let’s see if I scream.”

The needle punched through—sharp, bright pain followed by a throbbing heat that made her gasp. Jo’s nails dug into the chair as the artist screwed the captive bead into place, the cold metal a stark contrast to her flushed skin. “Fuck,” she breathed, rolling her hips instinctively as the sensation coiled low in her belly. The artist smirked, wiping a drop of blood with a sterile pad. “Still want the other one?” She didn’t answer—just reached behind her neck and unhooked the rest of her dress, letting it pool at her waist. Her bare chest rose and fell with each quickened breath, the untouched nipple already pebbled tight with anticipation. “Do it.” He didn’t hesitate this time. The clamp bit down, and she arched with a choked moan, thighs trembling as her cunt clenched around nothing. The needle followed, piercing deep. She whimpered—high, involuntary—but her hand shot between her legs, fingers pressing hard against her clit through the damp fabric of her thong. The artist’s breath hitched. “Jesus.” Jo smirked, rolling the fresh metal between her fingertips as she ground against her own touch. “Now the hood,” she panted. “And don’t go gentle.” Her phone lit up again—Lou’s frantic response this time—but she didn’t even glance at it. The pain was too sweet, the burn too good. She wanted *more*.

The artist’s fingers were steady as he prepped the sterile needle, but his jaw tightened when Jo hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her thong and dragged it down her hips. The wet fabric clung for a second before snapping free, baring her completely. She didn’t wait for permission—just spread her thighs wider, one hand still teasing the fresh piercings while the other slid between her legs, two fingers slipping easily into her soaked cunt. “Don’t stop working just because I’m playing,” she murmured, watching his Adam’s apple bob. His grip on the clamp tightened. “This isn’t a fucking show.” Jo laughed, breath hitching as she crooked her fingers inside herself. “Isn’t it?” The clamp snapped shut on her hood—tighter than before, meaner—and her back bowed off the chair with a sharp cry. Pain and pleasure twisted together, white-hot, as she fucked herself faster. The needle followed in one brutal push, and she came with a gasp, thighs shaking, her juices slicking the chair beneath her. The artist exhaled roughly, wiping his hands. “You’re insane.” Jo licked her lips, glancing at the still-ringing phone. “Tell Lou I’ll be late.”

The artist yanked off his gloves, tossing them into the biohazard bin with more force than necessary. His knuckles were white where he gripped the counter, his breath uneven. Jo stretched lazily, the new metal glinting against her flushed skin as she admired her reflection. Every shift sent a fresh jolt through her—each piercing a live wire. She ran her tongue over the barbell in her lip, watching his reflection tense in the mirror. “You should go.” His voice was rough. She didn’t move. Just hooked a leg over the arm of the chair, exposing herself entirely. “Should I?” Her fingers trailed down, circling her clit with slick, deliberate strokes. “Or do you wanna see what happens when I make myself come again?” His nostrils flared. The muscle in his jaw jumped. Jo’s phone buzzed—Lou’s name flashing again—but she silenced it with a swipe, grinning as she arched into her own touch. “Tell me,” she purred. “How bad do you want to watch?” He didn’t answer. But his hand was already unbuckling his belt.

----- His belt hit the floor with a heavy thud. Jo’s breath quickened, her fingers still working her clit in slow circles as she watched him drag his jeans down over his hips. His cock sprang free—thick, already hard, the veins standing proud along the shaft. "Fuck," she murmured, spreading her thighs wider. The tattooist stepped closer, his hand wrapping around his length in a slow stroke. His gaze locked onto the glistening mess between her legs, her fresh piercings catching the light. "You really are a slut for it, aren’t you?" Jo moaned, arching off the chair. "Yeah," she admitted, voice ragged. "Can't help it." His free hand gripped her thigh, fingers digging in as he leaned down, his cock brushing against her slick folds. "Tell me what you want." She didn’t hesitate. "Your cock. Right fucking now." He smirked and pushed inside in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Jo cried out, her back bowing as she clenched around him, the stretch bordering on too much. But she didn’t pull away—just wrapped her legs around his hips and locked him in. "God, you take it so good," he growled, snapping his hips forward again. Jo’s phone buzzed once more—Lou’s name flashing—but she barely noticed. All she could focus on was the ruthless rhythm of his thrusts, the way her piercings pulled with every movement, the throbbing pleasure-pain coiling tighter. Then his hand slid between them, rough fingers circling her clit, and she shattered with a scream.

Lou’s phone buzzed against the kitchen counter—Jo’s name flashing, a video call request. His stomach twisted, fingers hovering for a second before he swiped to answer. The screen filled with Jo’s flushed face first, her lips parted, eyes glassy. Then the angle tilted down. The tattooist’s cock was buried deep inside her, his thrusts making her tits bounce, the fresh metal glinting with each movement. Jo whimpered, biting her lip as she held the phone steady. “Lou,” she gasped. “Fuck, I—*oh god*—I couldn’t wait. Look at me.” Lou’s throat went dry. His cock strained against his pants, shame and arousal warring as he watched her take another man like it was nothing. “You see that?” Jo panted, angling the phone lower so he could watch her stretched around the tattooist’s thickness. “Feels so much better than you. Fuck, *yes*—” The tattooist chuckled darkly, gripping her hips and slamming in harder. “Tell him whose pussy this is now.” Jo’s moan was obscenely loud. “Yours. *Yours*.” Lou’s hand was already in his pants, stroking himself like a pathetic cuck. He hated how hard he was. Hated how good she looked. And Jo—grinning, breathless—held his gaze as she came again.

The tattooist withdrew from Jo with a wet pop, reaching for the cigar resting on the nearby ashtray. He took a slow drag, the smoke curling around his smirk as he exhaled toward the phone screen. Jo propped herself up on her elbows, her thighs still spread shamelessly, glistening with sweat and slick. "Lou," she purred, voice dripping with contempt. "Still jerking that little thing like it’s gonna do anything?" Lou’s jaw clenched, his hand frozen around his pathetic erection. The tattooist blew another plume of smoke, idly stroking his cock with his free hand—still glistening from her. "Pathetic," he muttered, shaking his head. "Tell him what you really think, baby." Jo leaned in closer, her lip curling. "You couldn’t fuck me like this if you tried. Couldn’t even *pretend* to be a man." She reached back, spreading herself open with two fingers, showing him the mess the tattooist had left. "Look at that. Ruined for you. Forever." Lou’s breath hitched. The tattooist laughed, grinding the cigar into the ashtray before sliding his hand into Jo’s hair, yanking her head back. "Now beg him to watch while I wreck you again." Jo’s grin turned vicious. "*Please*, Lou. Watch your wife get *fucked*."

Jo plucked the tattooist’s cigar from the ashtray, taking a long drag before exhaling the smoke right at Lou’s frozen face on the screen. The ember glowed between her fingers as she smirked, arching her back to press against her new lover’s chest. “You like this, don’t you?” she taunted, rolling her hips as the tattooist’s hands groped her tits, pinching her nipples hard enough to make her gasp. “Watching me *choose* a real man?” Lou’s fingers twitched around his cock, his throat too tight to speak. The tattooist growled against Jo’s ear, his grip tightening in her hair. “Ask him who owns you now.” She moaned, grinding against his thick thigh. “*You* do,” she sighed, blowing another stream of smoke. “Only you.” Her free hand trailed down to stroke the tattooist’s cock, slick with her arousal. “Lou’s just a spectator.” The tattooist flipped her onto her stomach, yanking her hips up. “Then let’s give him a show.” Jo buried her face in the sheets, cigarette still dangling from her lips as she spread wider. “*Fuck* me,” she begged—not to Lou. *Never* to Lou again.

Jo’s back arched as the tattooist slammed into her hard, her cigarette tumbling onto the sheets. "*Fuck!*" she gasped, nails digging into the mattress. "That's it—*ruin* me." On the screen, *little cucky* whimpered, his pathetic fist jerking faster. "Tell him," the tattooist grunted, driving deeper, splitting her open with each thrust. Jo turned her head just enough to smirk at the screen. "You hearing that, *cucky*?" she panted, voice taunting. "Hear how wet I am for a *real* cock?" The tattooist’s hand cracked against her ass, leaving a red mark. "Louder." Jo groaned, pressing back into him. "I don’t even *remember* how your little dick felt," she lied, relishing the choked sound *cucky* made. "This is all I need now—every. Fucking. Inch." The tattooist hiked her hips higher, his grip leaving bruises as she screamed his name—not *cucky’s*, never again.