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After he left, Brooke looked up at me shyly and said, “Buying the perfume was a good move, I guess. Thanks. Still, I hope she’s allergic to it and breaks out in hives.”
We had a restless night, but were cautiously optimistic that we had been sufficiently servile to convince Luke to reassume his dominion over Brooke’s body and over our lives.
Late morning the following day, he texted Brooke: I’ve decided to give you another, FINAL chance. It was the cuck’s foot massage and steak, your tits and the perfume that convinced me. I’m traveling all week, so Kevin will bring my clothes over next weekend. Make sure he feels welcome too.
“Thank god!” Brooke said. We hugged, then she sat down at the kitchen table and actually cried a little with relief. After she settled down, she said, “Thank you. It sounds like he wants to come back more because of you than me.”
“Don’t be silly. You know he loves having with you. That was obvious last night. He’s just trying to diminish you; he’s still trying to punish you.”
“You may be right. But I don’t care why, at this point. The important thing is he’s coming back. At least he likes my tits,” she said, with a little smile.
“They’re the loveliest, most perfect tits on earth, so no surprise there. Are you sure you really want to go through with this, darling? He won’t make it easy.”
“I know he won’t. But, yes, I’m sure. Last night was humiliating, but it was amazing. When he pounds me like that, when he manhandles me, it’s like I can actually feel the stress leave my body.”
“How about a deep tissue massage? It’s a lot less humiliating,” I said, only half joking.
“Very funny. We’ve been through all this before. When Luke dominates me in bed, it’s degrading, yes, but it’s liberating at the same time. It’s like I can lose myself. I guess it’s sort of sad that I feel the need to lose myself, huh?”
“Not at all. We all want to lose ourselves at times, me included.”
“Well, it’s not just something I want; it’s something I need, and need often. Or regularly, at least. And Luke is the only one who can make do that. The bastard.”
“The problem is that he now seems intent on dominating and degrading you well beyond the bedroom.”
“It’s a price that I’m willing to pay. I need him, Walter.”
“As long as you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“You’re happy?”
“Yes! I’m happy. A little scared, too, but happy. Let’s have a drink to celebrate. Make me a martini.”
“But it’s not even noon yet.”
“It’s almost lunchtime. I’ll heat up leftovers, while you shake. We’ll have a three martini lunch.”
“Brooke, I can’t drink that much in the middle of the day.”
“I’m just kidding. We’ll have one.”
So I prepared the drinks and we sat down to lunch. We toasted the quality and creativity of our groveling. We toasted our conqueror. We toasted the resumption of “the game,” which now promised to be more challenging and unpredictable than ever. She ended up having two martinis. That troubled me, but I consoled myself by my certainty that Brooke’s drinking problem was not something Luke would abide. For all of his insults and cruelty, I believe he really does care about her on some level.
Three days later, back on campus, I knocked on Neil’s closed office door. It was the middle of the second week of the new semester, and I hadn’t seen him since before the winter break. I knew he and Luke had worked out together at the gym recently, but I had no idea what Luke had told him about his break, and reconciliation (if one could call it that), with Brooke. I suppose it was possible that Luke had told him nothing, but I sincerely doubted it.
Neil opened his door and regarded me with a warm smile. “Hey, stranger!” He shook my hand firmly. “Great to see you. Come in and sit down.”
I sat down on the chair across from his desk and he closed the door.
“I’ve come by your office a few times. I even texted you. You haven’t been avoiding me, have you, pal?” he said, with a smile, as he sat on his chair behind his desk.
In truth, I had been. I had been very stressed out by Brooke’s depression and by all the drama with Luke over the past week. I had no idea what Neil knew or didn’t know, so felt it was simply best to keep my distance from him until things were more clear.
“Of course, not. I have a very light load this semester. I haven’t been in my office much. Sorry, I meant to text you back. It’s just that I’ve been a little…preoccupied lately, I guess.”
“I understand. Luke filled me in on what’s been going on. I can imagine it’s been pretty tough for you.”
“What…what did he tell you exactly?”
“Look, we’re all friends, here. Luke knows he can trust me. You know that, too, I hope?”
“Of course, I do. But what did he tell you?”
“He told me that he and Brooke had a big fight before Christmas, that there was no contact between him and the two of you for the last few months. But he said that during that time apart, you and Brooke had an epiphany. He actually used that word. Luke often surprises me. He may be a blue collar guy, but he’s no dummy.”
“Yes, he surprises me, too. What did he say was our epiphany?”
“That you’re both deeply submissive ually. Even more than ually. That you begged him to come back and take control of your lives. That you have a weight problem and Brooke has a drinking problem and you both need his discipline. But more than that, he said that you and Brooke have realized that for your lives to truly have meaning, you both really need to submit to him totally. Is that true?”
What could I say? If I contradicted Luke, that could jeopardize everything Brooke and I had just fought so hard for. And, fundamentally, wasn’t there truth in what Luke told Neil? It wasn’t the full , of course. The full is that Brooke is ually dependent on Luke. And I, her chivalrous knight, am hopelessly in love with Brooke and will do anything for her, including enslaving myself to the man to whom she is ually addicted. And, yes, I find his domination arousing and exciting, too. And, yes, he does instill discipline in our lives with a heavy hand, but nonetheless (or perhaps because of that) effective. And Brooke views as a vital part of life and views life as a game and boredom as tantamount to death. And, through her, I have come increasingly to view life as a game, too. And, like her, I have come to appreciate that our lives are a hell of lot more interesting and exciting under the control of this flawed, but magnificent alpha male than without him in our lives. And that the requirement that we submit to him more fully is not our idea, but his condition for coming back. And, most crucially of all, that, if he is not a part of her life, my cherished lady may die.
So, I answered more honestly than not, “Yes, that’s true, I guess, more or less. It’s a little more complicated than that maybe.” I could only meet his eyes for a moment before looking downwards.
“Look, pal, when you first told me about the unorthodox relationship between Luke, Brooke and you, I told you that I didn’t completely understand, but that I wouldn’t judge you. Remember?”
“Yes, and I truly appreciated it.”
“Well, that’s still the case. One hundred percent. I don’t judge you and, having watched you interact with Luke these past many months, I’ve gained a much better understanding of the mind of a masochist. I want to help you, pal. In fact, Luke explicitly asked for my help.”
“He did?”
“Yes. Hey, I really hurt my foot hiking in the mountains with Laura when we in North Carolina visiting my parents. I could sure use one of your brilliant foot massages now. Why don’t you work your magic, while we keep talking,” Neil said, swiveling his chair so that his feet were pointing out. He looked down towards his feet. “It’s the right one.”
I looked back to make sure the door was fully closed, then got down on my knees in front of my colleague, removed his brown loafer and black sock, and began pressing my fingers into his arch.
“It’s higher up where it’s really bothering me. More on the sole of my foot.”
“Is that the right area?” I asked, making the adjustment.
“Perfect,” Neil said, sighing contentedly, and reclining back in his chair.
“What did he mean by asking you for your help?” I asked.
“Help making sure you adhere to your diet, that you don’t cheat and you get enough exercise. I can see you’ve put back on several pounds since I last saw you. Help with disciplining you.”
“But I thought we were friends.”
“Oh come on, Walter. It’s not like this will be something completely new. Remember that time Luke had me paddle you when blew your weighin?”
“Yes, how could I ever forget that?”
“He made you thank me after every time I hit you. That was pretty funny. Our friendship survived that just fine. Of course, we’re friends. But not all friendships are equal. I’m not a masochist. You are. No big deal.”
From there, Neil steered the conversation towards academic matters, talk about our respective classes and books.
After giving me an update on the progress of his book, he asked, “How’s your book coming along?”
“Pretty slowly. I didn’t get that much done over the break. I feel a little blocked.”
“Maybe that’s because Luke hasn’t been around to inspire you. Now that you’ve passed this new milestone in the relationship between the three of you, I’ll bet the pages will flow like a river. Just you wait and see. That reminds me, I got you something. A late Christmas present.”
He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out an old leatherbound book that he handed me: The Poems of Algernon Charles Swinburne.
He said, “I found this in a used bookstore in Asheville, of all places, and thought of you. It’s an 1884 edition.”
“Thanks, Neil. It’s beautiful. I…I didn’t bring a present for you.” It was indeed a beautiful, and very thoughtful, gift one that validated his reassurance about our ongoing friendship. Researching online after the fact, I was sure the book must have set Neil back at least $200. And I didn’t think to buy him anything…
He smiled warmly. “Don’t worry about it, pal. You’re giving me the best present possible with those magic hands of yours. My foot is feeling better already. The other one could use some attention as well.”
“Of course.” I picked up his other foot and removed his shoe.
As I reached for his sock, he said, “Laura says my socks stink something awful when my feet sweat in these particular shoes. I think she exaggerates to tease me. What do you think?” He pressed his socked foot up against my nose. Now essentially deputized by Luke to assist in dominating me, Neil was obviously willing to push the boundaries in his interactions with me. Just how far would he be willing to go?, I wondered to myself. His sock was slightly moist, but not truly sweaty, so the odor was faintly acrid but not overpowering.
I inhaled, as expected apparently, and said, “It’s not too bad. Just a little sour.”
“Good,” he chuckled. “I’ll tell Laura that you disagree with her. Go ahead and take it off now.” I did as he asked (commanded?) and began massaging his bare left foot. It wasn’t as large and meaty as Luke’s foot, but a respectable size 11, I suspected.
“You know, pal, Luke suggested that I insist you address me as ‘sir.’ I certainly wouldn’t expect that all the time, of course, such as in front of students or other faculty members, but when you’re in a clearly subservient position like this or fetching me coffee, I think it’s appropriate. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, sir.”
“See, it feels natural, right?”
“Yes, sir.” And, as ashamed as I felt, I was not lying. As if to second my words, my already hard cock (currently free of chastity) stiffened further beneath my jeans. Looking downwards, I could see a small tent in my jeans, and was hoping Neil would not notice from his state of repose.
He continued, “I had never really read Swinburne before, but his technique is often excellent. He really was fixated on feet and flogging, though. I can see his appeal to you. A kindred masochistic spirit. That FloggingBlock poem is really something, isn’t it? It’s borderline gay S&M pornography, written during the repressive Victorian era.”
“That’s why it wasn’t published until 100 years after he died. But he did publish some other poems about flogging in boarding school under pseudonyms during his lifetime.”
“Fascinating. I guess his psyche was shaped from his time in boarding school. Being punished by cruel headmasters and prefects. It perverted him, didn’t it?”
“I guess so. People, young men in particular, tend to eroticize traumatic or difficult experiences as a coping mechanism. Swinburne eroticized the floggings he received at Eton, much as young men eroticize their rejection by young women and become obsessed with cuckolding for the rest of their lives.”
“Was that true of you, Walter? The cuckolding part, I mean.”
“Yes, I believe so. I had it really bad for a girl in my senior year of high school. I was pretty devastated when she dumped me for this arrogant jock on the wrestling team. My cuckolding fantasies began around that time. It probably didn’t help when he flicked my bare ass with a wet towel in the locker room after gym class shortly after he stole my girlfriend. It really hurt. All of his jock friends laughed at me.”
“Did you start to fantasize about him ually after that?”
“Not about having with him or anything like that. But yes, I started to imagine that I was his towel boy. That I was responsible for picking up and cleaning his sweaty wrestling singlet and jock strap after his wrestling matches, and for handing him towels during matches. I even imagined wiping the sweat off his biceps, back and legs. My exgirlfriend would always be present in my fantasies, laughing at me, at my subservience to him. When she left me for him, I asked her incredulously how she could possibly leave me for such an ignoramus. She told me I wasn’t fit to wash his jock. In my pathetic imagination, I decided that, yes, I was fit to wash his jock, but not much else. But it was different with flogging. Even as a young kid, I was fascinated by stories and pictures of corporal punishment.”
“Well, Luke and Brooke have sort of brought all that to life for you.”
“Yes, sir. They certainly have.”
“You’re really fortunate in many respects. Not many masochists get the opportunity to live out their fantasies, I’ll bet. I’m pretty confident that me helping out here will only deepen our friendship in the long run. Do those toe snaps you do sometimes. On both feet. I like those. So, do them every time from now on.”
‘Yes, sir,” I said as I began massaging and snapping each toe individually
“Ah, that’s it. That feels good. As I was saying, I think this evolution of our friendship will bring us closer than ever. You would never have shared those details with me about the origins of your masochism the way things were with us before, would you?”
“No, sir, probably not.”
“I didn’t think so. This will allow for a new intimacy between us. You can really be yourself around me from now on. Go ahead, Walter, kiss the bottom of my foot. You know you want to.”
I didn’t know any such thing. He was my colleague. But I didn’t know that I didn’t want to either. It seemed right at the moment, right to obey him. So I placed my lips just under his toes and gently kissed.
“Good,” he said, matteroffactly. “Now, about your weight. You said that you’ll be on campus only three days per week this semester, right?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, still slightly in a state of shock at what had just transpired.
“As I said, I’m loaded up with classes. So, I won’t have time to walk over the Corner Coffee every day. Besides, I don’t want to walk that much until my foot heals more. You’ll do it on the three days you’re here. We’ll work out a schedule. It’ll be great exercise for you. Then we can have coffee together while you massage my feet. It’ll be quality bonding time with one of my best buddies, right pal.” With that, he smiled and affectionately (?) tousled my hair with his bare foot.
“Yes, sir.”
After I finished putting his shoes and socks back on, he said, “These old loafers are a little scuffed up. I know you have a shoeshine kit to take care of Luke’s extensive footwear collection. I don’t expect you to bring in that big bulky thing here that would raise some eyebrows, wouldn’t it?” he chuckled. “But it should be pretty easy for you to stick a can of shoe polish and a polishing rag in your briefcase, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Bring those next time.”
When I stood up, he glanced briefly at my crotch. My cock was still erect beneath the tight pair of jeans skinny jeans, I believe they are called Brooke had brought me. My paunch showed above my belt. Given Neil’s semi obsession with my weight, it was difficult to say which of the two protrusions caused me more embarrassment: my paunch or my erection. I detected a slight smirk as Neil resumed eye contact. He then smiled and warmly shook my hand.
“Really great to see you, pal. Don’t forget your book,” he said, handing me the weighty volume. “See you around 3 PM on Wednesday. I’m looking forward to our coffee klatch.”
“Me, too, sir.”
“Not ‘sir’ now, pal. Only when you’re in a position, or act, of submission. When we’re interacting normally, it’s just Neil, as usual. Got it?”
‘Yes, s…I mean Neil. Sorry.”
“No problem.” He laughed goodnaturedly. “It’ll take a little getting used to for both of us.”
“Thanks, Neil. And thanks again for the book. Really. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
That meeting with Neil was my first inkling into how meaningfully things would change for Brooke and me following Luke’s triumphant return to our lives. There were many, many more to come.
I was scheduled to make my first return visit to Paul and Anna’s condo the following day. After three months of freedom, it suddenly felt as if the walls of servitude were closing in around me from all directions.
When I got home that evening, Brooke greeted me with a kiss and said, “Luke called me today. He’s having a dinner party next Saturday at his house for his whole executive leadership team. He just hired the last member of his team, a new Chief Marketing Officer. Such corporate bullshit, right? Everybody has to have ‘Chief’ in their title nowadays. Imagine that at a restaurant. Chief busboy. Chief dishwasher. Anyhow, he wants to have cocktails and dinner to welcome this new guy and to celebrate that his team is now complete. So it’ll be a bunch of guys and their wives, I imagine. Guess who’s going to be the wait and catering staff for this grand event?”
“The professor and Brooke?” I said.
“You got it. He’s expecting me to wear my waitress uniform from the restaurant and you to wear the waiter uniform you first served him dinner in.”
“At least he’s not expecting me to wear what I wore when I served him dinner the other night.”
“That’s true. But we have our work cut out for us. We have to plan a three course meal as well as hors d’oeuvres and cocktails. There will be about 10 guests altogether, so we’ll l be working our asses off. He expects us to call everyone ‘sir’ and ‘miss’ and to treat them like royalty. I’m sure he loves the idea of having an English professor and an English major waiting hand and foot on all of his corporate underlings.”
“Well, we knew it wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.”
“Yeah, let the game begin,” Brooke said. “I need a drink.”
“Me, too,” I replied. It had been quite a day.
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