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The New Order, Part 4: The Spade

By Juliet Monroe · BNWO hotwife erotica · 8 min read · part 4 of 10

Carver Street

The tattoo shop on Carver Street had no sign, only a black door with a small silver spade painted at eye height.

The artist was a woman named Rae, with tattoos up both arms and a voice like gravel. She didn't ask what I wanted. She'd already drawn it. A black spade, the size of a playing card, with a delicate white Q inside it. She showed it to Dante. Not to me. Dante nodded.

"Where?" Rae asked him.

He touched me just above the line of my panties, to the right. Low on my hip. Where a swimsuit would just cover it, and nothing else would.

You held my hand the whole time, darling. Forty minutes. You sat on a little stool by the chair and held my hand and watched the needle, and every time I flinched you squeezed my fingers, and every time Dante touched my hair you looked away.

When it was done, Rae wiped it clean and covered it with film and said, "That one's forever. You know that."

"I know," I said.

"Does he?" She looked at you.

You were still holding my hand. You lifted it and kissed my wedding ring.

"Yes," you said.

The garden party

Vivienne threw the party on Saturday. In my honour, she said. Her garden was full of lanterns, and the pool was lit blue from below, and there were twenty women there in summer dresses, every one with a little silver spade at her ankle, and some with a black one on her hip, like mine.

The husbands served the drinks.

All of them. In white aprons, like yours. Gerald, and Shannon's husband Mark, and a dozen men I'd waved to across our lawns and seen at the mailbox, carrying trays of champagne through the garden with their eyes down. When their wives wanted something, they snapped their fingers. When the bulls arrived, the husbands took their jackets.

There were six bulls that night, darling. You counted. I know you did.

Vivienne made me stand by the pool and lift the hem of my dress so the women could see the new ink. They clapped. Somebody whistled. Shannon kissed me on the mouth. And you stood at the edge of the lantern light with your tray, and when I looked at you, you smiled. You actually smiled.

Then Dante came up behind me and put his hand over the spade, and another man came up beside him. Taller. Darker. Older. He looked at me the way Dante had looked at me in the gym.

"This is Marcus," Dante said. "He's been asking about you."

The pool house

The pool house had glass walls. That was the point of it. Vivienne had built it that way.

Dante led me inside, and Marcus followed, and the door closed, and the lights inside came up warm and gold, and out in the dark garden twenty women and twelve husbands with trays turned, slowly, to watch.

I found you at the glass. Right at the front. Vivienne had put you there.

Dante kissed me first, his fingers tangling in the chain at my throat where your key hung. Marcus stepped in close, his hands warm on my hips where the new spade waited hidden beneath silk, and together they began to undress me while I stood between them like a prize offered for display. My dress fell away with a soft sigh of fabric, revealing skin flushed gold by the overhead lights, until only the black ink on my right hip remained bare, gleaming under the gaze of twenty watching wives and their aproned husbands huddled outside.

"You're ours now," Marcus growled low in his throat, his hand sliding down to cup the heavy swell of my ass before gripping it firmly. "Look at you, Juliet. White skin, black mark, soft pussy waiting for us." I knelt on the cool tiles between them, feeling their combined heat radiating off their bodies as they kissed my neck, biting lightly at the junction where my throat met my shoulder. Dante took charge first, guiding his thick cock to my mouth while I wrapped my lips around him with sloppy desperation, sucking hard until my eyes watered and my tongue worked its way deep past the rim of my lips. Marcus groaned beside me as he positioned himself behind me, his large hands pressing my back against his chest before he shoved inside my tight hole with one brutal thrust that made my head bow forward.

I switched between them like a tide turning, sucking Dante while Marcus fucked me from behind with ruthless rhythm, each slap of his hips echoing through the glass walls. My lipstick smeared along both their cocks as I sucked one and then the other, my throat aching and my clit throbbing with every thrust that rocked my pelvis against Marcus's thigh. "Good girl," Dante purred into my ear, one hand fisting my hair while he watched Marcus pound me from the rear. "Take him hard. Take us both." I moaned around Dante's cock, feeling the wetness pool deep inside me as I stretched wider than ever for two men who knew exactly how to ruin me. Through the glass I could see your face, and you hadn't blinked.

They didn't stop there. I don't think I want to tell you all of it, darling. But I promised I'd write everything down. So.

Dante lay back on the lounger and pulled me on top of him, his massive cock sliding up into my soaked pussy, and Marcus knelt behind me and shoved hard into my ass, splitting me open in a wet, squelching rhythm that made my toes curl. My body trembled between them, stretched thin by the sheer size of their combined lengths, one thrust after another ripping through my bowels and soaking my inner walls. "Look at your ass," Marcus hissed, dragging his knuckles across the fresh spade tattoo on my right hip, then sliding them lower to knead my clit while he groaned into my shoulder. "White skin, black ink, soft hole for two kings—fuck, you're dripping already." I screamed as they took turns claiming me, switching positions in a dizzying swirl of sweat and slickness, my pussy clenching around Dante like a vice while Marcus hammered into my tight rear, filling me deep with every brutal pulse.

Sweat and cum ran down our thighs as Dante bit my lower lip hard enough to draw blood, tasting iron on his tongue. "Cum for us," he commanded, his voice low and possessive as Marcus braced himself against my back, his fingers digging into my hips to steady me mid-thrust. I came again, my inner muscles spasming around both of them, a hot rush of pleasure exploding through my belly as I felt myself splitting apart under their weight. "You're so full of us," Marcus roared, slamming into my tight hole one last time before dragging his cock out of my rear and plunging it back in with a wet snap that echoed off the glass walls. Then he finally let go inside me, his seed flooding my womb as I squeezed around both cocks at once, my head thrown back, hair matted with sweat, body trembling from end to end.

Dante followed soon after, groaning as he buried his face in my neck and emptied himself deep inside my stretched pussy, leaving me slick and overwhelmed between them. I collapsed forward onto the wet tiles, legs shaking uncontrollably, dripping mess on Marcus's thighs and Dante's chest, feeling every drop of their release soaking into my skin. Through the glass partition, I saw your face pressed flat against the pane, eyes wide with hunger and awe, watching me break apart for two men who owned my body completely. My heart pounded as the wives outside began to cheer. I pressed my palm flat to the glass, and on the other side you pressed yours.

Afterwards

The garden clapped. I swear to you. They clapped like it was a wedding.

Vivienne opened the pool house door and stood back for you. "Go on," she said gently. "Rule four. In front of everyone. That's how the wives know he's ours."

You went in. You knelt. You took off your apron and folded it first, very neatly. I've never loved anything as much as I loved you folding that apron.

I lay back on the lounger and opened my legs wide for you. You knelt in your little clear cage, your face between my thighs, and your tongue darted out to lap up the cum running out of me. "Look at it," I whispered, feeling my own juices mix with their seed on your mouth, "how much you both left in me. Marcus inside my rear, Dante filling my pussy—look, I'm still dripping." My clit twitched under your breath, sensitive and raw from the pounding that had stretched me so far.

Dante's hand slid over to rest heavily on the new spade tattoo low on my right hip, his fingers pressing into the fresh ink while he guided my own hand up to stroke your hair. "You're such a good wife," he growled, his voice rough with satisfaction as I leaned forward to kiss his jaw. My inner muscles spasmed around your tongue, squeezing you tight even as I came again, a final wave of pleasure exploding through my belly that made my toes curl and my breath hitch. The wives outside the glass murmured approval, their voices hushed but eager, watching how we served each other in this moment of shared ownership.

You licked me clean, both holes, every drop of both of them, then pressed your face to my stomach while I stroked your hair again. "Proud of you," I said, feeling the damp warmth of our union soaking into my skin and the faint scent of musk clinging to us all. I pulled your mouth back down and ground my clit against your tongue until I was trembling again, completely surrendered to you and him. When you'd finished, the women outside the glass were silent, and then Vivienne began to clap.

Later, when the party was thinning and the lanterns were guttering, Vivienne found us sitting on the edge of the pool with our feet in the water. You had your apron back on. I had my head on your shoulder and Dante's jacket around me.

She sat down beside us and put her feet in too, her silver spade glinting under the water.

"You did well, both of you," she said. "Better than anyone I've seen in years." She was quiet a moment. "So I think it's time you took your vows."

"Vows?" I said. "We're already married."

Vivienne smiled her small, patient smile.

"Not to each other, darling," she said. "To the Order."