Chapter 3

“So, do you think that Mrs. Ex-Missionary will take a hint and start giving up the booty more often?” Jane continued obsessing on the matter of the man who had fucked her in a men’s room at the Lenny’s.

“I hope so, because now that he’s tasted you, I don’t think that he’ll go back to monogamy as easily as he dealt with it before. Poor man with the blue balls ... no wonder he was so unpleasant at first. I would be, too, in his case,” I commiserated as I watched the tattoo artist apply ink to Shiraz’s bottom.

“Wow, you’re really getting your ass inked with the words ‘Ike’s Persian Slut, ‘ eh? I love it!” Jane now turned to Shiraz, even as Moira gritted her teeth through her own marking process, biting her lower lip, too.

“Of course! Just as Moira’s will read ‘Ike’s Irish Tart.’ That fits, don’t you think? Same with you getting your own tattoo that inspired us! I love yours very much! Now, to get Ike inked with something like, say, ‘Jewish Stud Husband.’ Doesn’t that sound hot? I like our tattoos to indicate exactly who and what we are, right?” Shiraz spoke before biting her bottom lip in reaction to the pain as well.

“Right on my tush, too?” I chuckled.

“Why not, babe? Trust me, you won’t have to sit down on a normal chair until you’ve recovered, and by then, you’ll be so used to using my face as a seat that it will be a comedown to return to normal! I plan to offer my face up for a seat to Ike, permanently, even to the point of quitting my job just to be available to him for his needs. I’m so done with not being on hand for you. From now on, my face is your seat and you should always feel free to use it,” Jane stunned us all with that admission.

“So, wait ... Jane’s face is going to be Ike’s chair for the rest of her life? That could get quite interesting indeed! I love it, but she is making such a sacrifice that, from now on, I will have to find another way to prove my own devotion to him. What about you, Shiraz?” Moira interjected now, “And what gesture of loyalty, submission, and affection would you wish from me, Master?”

“Well, there need to be health precautions. For instance, the bathroom exception. I refuse to use her that way, I mean. Things like that, of course. Though if she wants me to piss in her mouth, that’s a different deal. Still, it has its charms, though it might be hard to explain to total strangers why Jane is constantly following me around and letting me sit on her face. As for you, choose whatever you wish, sweetie. Same with Shiraz, but only if you wish it,” I assured them both.

“My first gesture is this,” Shiraz said, as the tattoo artist finished inking her fine Persian booty, at which point she grabbed a pen and her checkbook to write out a check, which she then handed to me. I took it with some surprise, as I realized the figures on it.

“Three thousand dollars? Do you actually have that much on hand?” I asked Shiraz, truly staggered.

“A lot more than that, Master, but it’s the first token of my surrender, dear. A sign that I am yours and everything that I have is yours, too, as long as you wish to claim me. I’m a very rich Persian princess, if you’ll pardon the stereotype, and yes, I like to think of myself as that ... as a captive princess. Your captive princess, that is. My captivity began last night, when I met you and fell in love at first shot. I really am your Persian slut, you know. The happy slut wife of my wonderful Jewish stud. You own me, lock, stock, and barrel, honey. I am your love slave for life!” Shiraz swore to me as she put her arms around me and gave me a sensual kiss that the tattoo artists couldn’t have missed.

“Yeah, I can see that going into porn is definitely the life for us!” I brought up Shiraz’s earlier idea, which prompted another kiss, this time from Jane.

“Well, for me, I want to be Ike’s urinal for life. Any time he needs to piss, he should just use my mouth. I don’t care if I’m eating ice cream or pizza. I’ll stop, swallow down Ike’s piss, and then wash out my mouth before resuming my meal without even the slightest feeling of disgust, trust me. It’s an honor to be Ike’s toilet slave, as long as it’s just to tinkle,” Moira declared, making the tattoo artist’s mouth gape wide open for a second with shock.

“Please, don’t get distracted! It’s just ... my way of showing my love and devotion to my husband ... well, OUR husband. We’re all his wives, right, girls? Besides, this lets him mark me as his territory, right, Master?” Moira snickered as she winked at me.

“That’s one way to do it for sure,” the artist laughed as he continued marking Moira.

“Okay, then, as I declared, my first sign of my surrender to Ike is that I am his wallet, purse, bank vault, whatever. My money is his money, plain and simple, and I will wire him more money just as a start. He was going to be rich, anyway, married to me, but now ... now he will have full financial independence and I will trust him not to leave. I don’t think that he cares about it, as he didn’t know about it and still wanted, right?” Shiraz turned to me with lovey-dovey eyes that really struck home the degree and intensity of her passion for me.