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The New Order, Part 3: Initiation Night

By Juliet Monroe · BNWO hotwife erotica · 7 min read · part 3 of 10

Getting ready

You shaved my legs that Saturday afternoon. I asked you to. I sat on the edge of the bath with my feet in the warm water and you knelt on the tiles and did it so carefully, both legs, ankles to thighs, and when you'd finished you kissed the spade on my ankle without being told.

Then you chose my lingerie. That was Vivienne's idea. "Let him pick," she'd said on the phone. "It'll break his heart in the nicest way."

You picked the white set. The one from our honeymoon. I know you did it on purpose. I wore it on purpose.

And you moved the armchair from the corner of our bedroom to the foot of the bed. You set it square to the mattress, so you'd have the best view, and then you sat in it to check, and got up, and moved it six inches closer.

I watched you from the doorway in my white silk and I have never, darling, never loved you more.

The chair

Dante came at nine. He didn't bring flowers this time. He brought an overnight bag and set it down in our hall like he'd done it a hundred times.

He looked at the bedroom. At the chair. At the white lingerie. At you, standing by the chair in your boxers with the clear cage showing through the cotton.

"Sit," he said, and you sat.

He undressed in front of you. Slowly. He folded his shirt over the back of your chair, right beside your head. I'd been with him three times by then, darling, and it still stopped my breath to see him, and I wanted you to see me see him.

"Tell him," Dante said to me. "Tell him what you want."

I told you. I stood at the foot of our bed in our honeymoon lingerie and told you, in words I didn't know I knew, exactly what I wanted Dante to do to me. You listened with your hands gripping the arms of the chair.

Then he laid me down on our sheets.

He pulled my panties aside and I felt the hot breath on my pussy. I could see him in the mirror above the dresser - his huge black cock, hard and throbbing, and his eyes dark and focused on me. He teased me with the tip, pushing it through my folds, stretching me open. Then he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, and I screamed, my back arching, my toes curling.

"Oh fuck," he groaned. "You're so tight. So wet."

I could see you over his shoulder in the mirror. Your face was contorted in pain and pleasure. Tears streamed down your cheeks, and your jaw was clenched so hard I was worried you'd crack a tooth. But you never looked away from me. Never took your eyes off my face, my body, the place where he was stretching me, claiming me.

"Don't look away," he growled. "Don't you dare look away from me. Look at me while I fuck your wife. While I fill you both."

He began to move, slowly at first, then faster, harder. He pounded into me from behind, his huge cock splitting me open, filling me. My legs were over his shoulders, my back arched, my head thrown back. The headboard hit the wall with every thrust.

"Yes," he snarled in my ear. "Yes. Take it. Take every inch of my cock. Take it all."

I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe. I could only feel, only take, only come. I came the first time when he was halfway in, my pussy clenching, my walls fluttering. Then I came again when he was all the way in, a second time, and I didn't know if I'd ever come like that again.

"Yes," he whispered in my ear. "Come for me. Come for me, baby. Come on my cock."

And I did. I came again, and again, and again, each time harder than the last. Each time more intense, more powerful, more overwhelming. I came until I was a puddle on the bed, my body shaking, my toes curling, my eyes rolling back.

And through it all, I could feel you watching me. I could feel your eyes on me, even when I couldn't see you. I could feel your pain, your pleasure, your love for me. I could feel your betrayal. I could feel your loss.

And I knew, in that moment, that I had never been more alive. Never more free. Never more powerful. I had never felt more like a woman.

"I've never come like that," I told you. "Not once. Not with you."

Our bed

He didn't stop. He turned me over and pulled my hips up so I was on my knees facing the foot of the bed. Facing you. My face was a foot from yours.

"Look at him," Dante said. "Look at him while I fill you."

I looked at you. You were crying, and you were straining against your cage so hard the lock was shaking, and you didn't look away once. I was so proud of you.

He pulled my hair back, hard, and slammed into me, his hips bucking, his balls slapping against my ass. "Fuck," he groaned. "You're mine now. You belong to me. This cunt belongs to me."

I could feel his cock splitting me open, stretching me out, filling me up. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," I moaned, my head thrown back, my eyes rolling. "You're so big, Dante. So fucking big. I can feel it. I can feel it all."

He pulled my hair again, harder, and I cried out. "Take it," he growled. "Take every fucking inch. Take it all."

I looked back at you, at the tears on your face, at the lock on your cage. "I can feel you, baby," I said. "I can feel you watching me. Watching us. Watching me take his cock."

I felt him cum inside me, hot and deep and filling me up. "Oh fuck," he moaned, his body shaking, his hips jerking. "Oh fuck, baby. I'm cumming. I'm cumming in you. I'm filling you up."

I moaned, my body shaking, my cunt clenching around him. "Yes," I whispered. "Yes, I can feel it. I can feel you coming. I can feel you filling me. He's filling me," I whispered against your lips. "Can you feel it?

Rule four

He slept in your place that night, darling. On your side. With his arm across me. You slept in the chair, because nobody told you that you could move, and in the morning there was a crease on your cheek from the upholstery.

He left before breakfast. He kissed me at the front door in his shirt from last night, and said "Good girl," and to you he said, "Rule four," and you went red to the roots of your hair.

I walked back upstairs and lay down on our wrecked sheets, still in what was left of the white silk, and opened my legs.

"Come here, baby," I said. "Rule four."

"Come here, baby," I said. "Rule four."

You got up from the chair and knelt between my thighs. I put my hands on your head, holding your face to my pussy. "You did good, baby," I said. "You didn't look away. You didn't beg."

You licked my lips, and I tasted salt. "Thank you, Juliet," you whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Shhh," I said. "Don't be sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for making you watch this. For making you do this. For making you be a good boy. For making you love me so much."

I ground on your face. "I'm so full, baby," I moaned. "So fucking full. I can feel it. I can feel it all. He left so much in me."

You licked between my thighs, your tongue hot and wet against my folds. "I can feel it," I said. "I can feel his cum on your tongue. Can you taste it? Can you taste how much he gave me? How much he loved me?"

I ground on your face harder. "He's so good, baby," I said. "He's so fucking good. He fucked me so good. He filled me so good. I've never felt anything like this before. I've never felt so alive."

You sucked on my clit, and I came hard, my pussy clenching around nothing, squeezing out the last drops of his cum. "Oh fuck," I moaned. "Oh fuck, baby. That's it. That's all. That's all I have."

You licked me clean, every drop, and said thank you without being told.

The phone rang while you were still kneeling there. It was Vivienne. Of course it was.

"Well?" she said.

I told her. All of it. I put her on speaker so you could hear.

Vivienne was quiet for a moment. Then she said, in that warm, patient voice, "Then it's time, Juliet. The anklet was only a loan. Thursday at four, there's a little place on Carver Street. Bring your husband. He'll want to hold your hand."

"What happens Thursday?" you asked. You weren't supposed to speak. Vivienne let it go.

"Thursday," she said, "she gets her spade."