Black Marks 4 - Chapter Two

ASHLEY

“I don’t know how long I’ll stay here,” Phil shrugs after he’s finished showing me around his new apartment early Saturday evening. It’s certainly a better location than the last place he lived. The view out of the window of this white brick-walled kitchen isn’t all concrete like where he lived before. You can see treetops. The whole apartment is brighter and newer inside too. “Coffee?” he pats the top of his chrome espresso machine.

“It’s a bit late in the day for me and caffeine,” I grimace. Man, it’s hard enough sleeping at the moment with the chastity belt weighing on my balls. I’m wired enough with frustration without adding a late coffee into the mix.

He turns the machine on anyhow.

I wouldn’t have even agreed to drop by and give him a trim if his phone call to ask hadn’t taken me by surprise. If I’d had time to think of an excuse. 

“How about herbal tea?” Phil’s eyebrows arch, “I’ve been drinking a bit of that lately too. Can’t have you dry-mouthed while you cut my hair, Champ.”

“Yeah OK,” I say and open my kit bag on the bare wooden island in the center of the room. “Whatever flavor you’ve got will be fine.”

“I’ve always been more of a house kind of guy than an apartment,” Phil grabs a tea bag on a string from a fancy glass jar that’s stuffed full of them and then drops it into a pale green mug with some sort of motif on it. “You sure the lighting’s OK in here for you to work?” he glances up at the spotlights embedded into his artex ceiling.

“Yeah, it’s great,” I nod and undo the cover around my scissors and clippers.

Phil brings the drinks across and perches on the stool I’ve pulled out for him.

Every time I wrap a cape around this guys’s broad upper body I’m reminded that Marcie has clung to his shoulders while he’s fucked her. Multiple times.

And more than once too while another man has fucked her at the same time.

Marcie always tells me that this guy in front of me right now is even better in bed than Finn.

I close the Velcro fastener at the rear of his thick neck and put my fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair to check the length. The feel of it makes my fingers tingle and my heart rate rise. I’ve seen my wife’s fingers in this hair too. “What are we having then?” I ask about him about his trim. The faint smell of his masculine aftershave or cologne is woody, kind of like pine. And even though right now in this situation with me as the ‘expert’ and supposedly the one in charge, I feel weak.

Not only has Marcie’s body made this guy cum several times, but he’s ‘finished’ in my face more than once too.

I shake the shameful thought out of my head.

“Two-step fade up the sides and back,” he says, “I don’t know how much tidying the top needs. What do you think?”

“No worries,” I draw several layers at the top of his hair through my fingers again to inspect them more closely, “We’ll just trim those ends a touch.”

“So, about that sexy wife of yours and my club,” he says over the buzz of the clippers after a  minute or so, “I know my Finn boy isn’t happy about the idea of her there.”

“He told you that?” I ask and peer down at him. The last I heard, Finn didn’t want Phil to know that he was trying to stop Marcie from returning to that weirdo dungeon at Traders.

“Let’s say I heard a whisper,” Phil shrugs his broad shoulders.

“Right,” I say and keep working.

Who told him? Not Marcie…?

“Anyway, it’s not his decision to make, is it Champ?”

“No,” I say. And the more I’ve thought about it, and the longer Finn keeps acting the asshole with me in my house, the more appealing the idea of pissing off our lodger gets. Maybe even pissing him off enough so that he leaves of his own accord when his rental agreement is due for renewal.

“I bet things can get a little wearing for you with another guy around your house 24/7,” Phil peers up at me.

I shrug but don’t say anything. I don’t especially want to spell it out and have my words get back to Finn. I don’t him then whining about me to Marcie and her falling out with me.

No, if he leaves, I don’t want her to think I was behind his decision to go.

“We’ve got a pro domme at the main club dungeon right now,” Phil sighs, “Wanda. She’s good, but she’s only there a couple more months. She’s one of those hookers who travels all over, you know? London, Dubai. She’s hot, but not exactly a gorgeous fresh-faced part-Viking hotwife like someone you and I know, right? Not the got the Traders hallmark that we’re known for.”

“Yeah,” I say and can’t help smiling at his description of my wife.

But he wants my Marcie to fill a position there that’s currently occupied by a ‘hooker’?

“Which half of her is Scandinavian? Her Mom or Dad?” he asks.

“Her Dad’s from Denmark. Copenhagen. Her maiden name was Reenberg. She says it means ‘mountain’.” I’m sure I’ve told him this before.

“Nice,” he says, “You’re a lucky guy. The girl’s a real beauty.”

My dick shifts in my chastity belt.

“I know Marce wouldn’t want anything full-time at your club,” I say and relay just one of our concerns about her accepting any kind of a role at his club. Her lack of available time.

“And we’d understand that,” Phil twists a round on the stool her peers up at me.

“Can you turn your head back the way it was Phil?” I gesture.

“Yeah, right, sorry. Monthly would be good at the club. Or even just special events. We still got a lot of clients who talk about her first visit there, you know?”

“Really?”

“You better believe it,” he blows out his cheeks. “Money be no issue either,” Phil moves his head from side to side, which doesn’t help what I’m trying to do. “Richmond throws his cash at that fucking business like a kid with his favorite toy. Like my little boy Daniel.”

“Right,” I say and an image pops into my head of the rich guy who owns Traders playing with kid’s toys. I’ve heard some older women say he reminds them of that old movie star Omar Sharif. Or someone like that. When the actor was younger.

“To have a woman like your wife on board,” Phil says, “with her looks and her rare taste for domination, we’d normally be prepared to pay the finder a hefty fee too.”

“Finder?” I stop trimming and gaze down at him.

“You know? A recruitment fee? If an agency brought Marcie to us, or someone just alerted us to her existence. Don’t get me wrong, we don’t normally pay guys for their own wives. Not to just service clients anyhow. But your wife’s way rarer than that. So with Marcie and you, we’d be happy to make an exception.”

I stare down at him.

He’s offering me money if I can get Marcie to work regularly at their club?

“That fee would be an additional one-off payment,” he says and looks up right into my eyes - five figures easily - if she accepts ongoing part-time employment.”

Five fucking figures?

These guys really do want my wife there, don’t they?

A lump sum like that could work wonders with the repairs and updating that still needs doing on our house. Finn’s labor there has dried up since he got his feet firmly under the table with Marcie.

Along with any respect he used to show me.

“And if you like the sound of that, Champ,” Phils’ eyes slide away from me, and with a satisfied look - like he knows the offer will be too good to turn down. He straightens his head again, “There’s more cash that could come your way on a regular basis too.”

“How so? You’re not looking for an in-house barber at the club too are you?” I joke and smile at him.

“Nah. But you could earn additional finders’ fees for bringing other elite couples our way.”

“Other couples? I don’t really know others like me and Marcie.”

“We keep lists of websites where cucks and more importantly wanna-be’s hang out.  Our top girls and their husbands do a little online recruitment for us via the forums on the sites. And that list of sites is growing. Once Marcie is on board, you could get involved in that too. Get your own list of sites to work. Get paid for bringing other couples in. Don’t forget Champ, we’ve got seven clubs that need stocking now. OK, we have regular single working girls in them, but is the married talent that sets us apart. The Teaders’ USP.”

“How do the finders’ fees work for that? We’d just bring you the names of a couple?” I try to get my head around what he’s saying.

“You introduce a new couple, get them to come look around, and then to qualify for your fee she needs to work a trial shift at the club. She needs to pass that and then make it beyond her first three nights working there. We know that once a couple gets to three nights they tend to stay. So that’s when you’d get your fee. Those numbers can mount up Champ. Especially if they get contracted.”

“Right,” I say and wonder whether being paid regular finders fees would make me much more than some kind of a pimp or trafficker.

“But Marcie’s the immediate focus,” he says and reaches for his drink from the island. “She’s certainly mine. Will you talk to her again for me, champ? I’ll call her again myself as well. If you’re cool with that too?” he peers up at me again.

It makes a change for a bull to ask before he contacts my wife. I nod my head.

“We’ve got a small function at the dungeon a week on Saturday. I’d love to see her there,” he says, “to see you both there.”

“I’ll bring it up with her again,” I nod. And why shouldn’t I piss Finn off? The smug bastard deserves it at the moment. “But it would probably be good if you did try and speak to her too.”

“I will. In the meantime, you might want to mention the ‘finders fee’ to her for me.”

It’s gone 7 pm when I eventually get home.

“Marce?” I shout from the hallway. I could do without going out at all tonight. But if the alternative is staying home with Finn hanging around us all night, then I guess we won’t have much choice. I need a beer first regardless.

I push a hand down into my pants and onto my chastity belt to drag it away from my chafed balls and then drop the car keys down on top of the coat rail stand. I head towards the living room and I hear their noise.

Then I see the pair of them.

“Marcie?” her name sticks in my throat.

She writhes under Finn on our sofa, her bare legs squeezed tight to his sides. His hairy ass muscles clench as her hands claw at it and he thumps into her.

“Uhh, yeah, uhh yeah, fuck me,” she gasps and almost begs him, “Fuck me.”

“Marce,” I say her name again but this time my voice is flat. Almost dead-sounding.

“Ash?” she pants a moment or so later and their screwing slows.

She peers at me from the other side of his right shoulder, his shirt is pulled up his back, “Finn stop,” she tugs at the shoulder, “Ash is home.”

Finn lets out a heavy sigh and slows some more, but still he rocks inside my wife.

“We didn’t know where you’d got to,” she says and blows a lock of stray hair away from her face, “I thought you must have gone to your Mom’s after you finished for the day”.

Somehow my mother’s name in her mouth while another man is in her pussy sounds obscene.

“What?” I frown at her with my chest tight, “So because you thought I’d gone on somewhere after the salon, you thought you were safe to start screwing in our living room?” I can’t help the anger or resentment or whatever it is in my voice. I’m fucking tired and I need a drink.

“Can’t you guys continue this convo later?” Finn lifts his face from Marcie’s throat and picks up the pace of his fucking again. “Come on baby, you’ve had yours, let me finish.”

“Uhhmm,” Marcie closes her eyes and clings to him again, like she’s forgotten all about me.

I stomp across the living room toward the kitchen. I yank open the fridge door and pull out a cold Coors. I pop it and take a mouthful, then try to savor the taste. I should go and get changed and then get myself out of the house and meet with some of the guys for more. Leave Marcie and him to it. But I can still hear them from here and now she’s building to a climax.

Despite my anger, the sounds of her impending orgasm with another man do something to my belly. And to my groin. I can’t help myself. I need to see.

I hurry back to them with my bottle in my fist.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Marcie bleats into his neck, her arms, and legs cling to him, her body undulating beneath him as the waves of ecstasy carry her away.

I stand a few feet from my wife, but miles away, breathing fast as another man holds her through her climax.

And then he’s fucking her in a frenzy, mauling and kissing her tits which I hadn’t even noticed he pulled from her bra, kissing and devouring her mouth as his body devours hers.

“Where you want me to cum? Where you want me to cum?” he pants at her, “In his face again? In his face?”

Marcie moans and tries to look over his shoulder for me.

“You can forget that,” I say even though a part of me is tempted. I’m too pissed off with them.

“Uhhhh,” Finn tenses and grunts almost like he threw up. And then he falls still on her, crushing her, panting and breathing like he just boxed ten rounds.

“When I pull out,” he says over his shoulder a moment or so later and still breathing hard, “You want to clean up for us down here?”

“Err, no,” I say firmly. It’s times like these when I wish I was as big as him. So I could throw the asshole out of the house when I’m not in the mood for him.

Like now.

“I got a call from your boss Phil asking me to give him a trim,” I say to Finn’s back and right now I want to stick a verbal knife in him, “You haven’t seen his new apartment, have you? It’s pretty cool. Marcie, he’s mad keen to get you back to Trader’s.”

“She’s not going back though. Are you Marce?” he kisses her forehead.

Asshole used the same abbreviation of her name as I do.

“I don’t think so,” she says.

“I thought we agreed,” he leans back off her and peers right at her.

“He’s talking shitloads of money Marcie,” I take a seat with my beer on the same armchair I watched from the first time he and Phil shared my wife. “A five-figure one-off payment.”

“Five figures?” Marcie squeezes out from under Finn and onto her feet with a hand between her thighs. Her nipples look bitten and sore. Or maybe just chafed from his unshaven face.

“That’s what he said,” I say but her nakedness makes my caged cock throb with frustration.

“Pity he doesn’t throw any money around in the direction of his site guys,” Finn snorts from the sofa.

“Have you and him had a row?” I ask but try not to gloat at him as Marcie passes me on her way out of the room with a hand still between her legs.

“He’s taking liberties since he started back at that club with that Coyle dude,” Finn says and wriggles his trousers back up.

“He’s probably just busy,” Marcie calls back at him and she must be on her way to the bathroom.

“Regular wages on top of the lump sum Marce,” I say loud enough for Finn to hear and I follow my wife, “Just for appearing there.”

“Appearing there?” Marcie laughs in the bathroom and then she squats, “You make it sound like a respectable actress role.”

A ‘Hooker’ role more like.

“Hold my balls Marce,” I move toward her and gesture at my groin.“You’d only have to commit to one night a month by the sound of it,” I shrug and if I was still hesitant about her returning there, then after the greeting I just got when I came home, I don’t care. I want Finn to be pissed off. “Possibly even less than once a month. Acting the femdom like you do with Ian but getting paid for it.”

“The money would be a massive help to get everything here finished off,” Marcie massages my balls through my pants as she pees and she glances around me at the bathroom walls. She bites her bottom lip, “It’s just the idea of getting recognized while we’re there.”

“Uhh,” I groan at her gentle touch, “Just insist on wearing one of those fancy masks again when you’re there.”

“She won’t need no mask,” Finn leans against the door frame, “Fancy or not. She won’t be going back there.”

Author's Notes

The voters amongst you made your decision in the poll about whether Marcie goes back to Traders or not. But what future do you see for her relationship with Finn?

And what of her relationships with the two, largely-chaste men in her life? Husband Ash and her adoring Ian.

Share your thoughts or ideas in the comments below.

Next week, we're back with Wes and Amelia as the couple discuss exactly what Sterling should be allowed to do to her. And where their neighbor himself has a further unsettling proposal for Wes.

© 2025 Tinto Selvaggio. All rights reserved.

 All characters portrayed in this ebook are consenting adults eighteen years of age or older. As a work of fiction, any similarities to any situations or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.