I learned from Brooke that Luke was far from a novice when it came to being the dominant bull in a cuckold relationship. Before he met her, when he was still in his late teens, Luke had bedded the wife of his first boss, the owner of a local plumbing business in his mid-50s. The wife, an attractive woman in her early 40s (a MILF, in Luke's words), was the dominant partner in a female-led marriage who showed Luke the ropes (literally and figuratively) when it came to dominating a submissive cuckold husband. An eager student, Luke readily embraced the tried and true traditions of such a relationship: tying his boss up and forcing him to watch him have sex with his wife; forcing the man to fluff him first and clean his mess out of his wife afterwards; having the older man serve as his lackey at the couple's home (and eventually even at the man's business); making his boss massage and worship his feet; ultimately compelling him to wear feminine clothing and a chastity cage, etc. Sort of a greatest hits compilation of cuckold humiliation. That's one thing about these types of relationships: since there are limits to what can realistically be done to the cuckold, a certain degree of repetitivenesses is inevitable. For better or worse, however -- just as he utilized new, cutting edge technologies to more efficiently run his business -- Luke proved to be quite the innovator in his methods of tormenting me. But he played the greatest hits album for me (and Brooke) as well -- on repeat.
Some of the more creative varieties of humiliation he subjected me to were quite public in nature, but they evolved over time.
With Brooke advocating on my behalf, I was able to negotiate -- well, perhaps negotiate isn't exactly the right word, as I was on my knees, massaging his feet, during this discussion -- some early, minor concessions from Luke when it came to public displays of my emasculation. From the start, he was very big on establishing that there was only one man of the house. One man, one woman and one "fairy cuck," his preferred moniker for me. Nevertheless, we were able to persuade him that, as a professor in the college around which the town revolved, I had a certain standing in the community that would be endangered, or at a minimum greatly complicated, by me being seen in public dressed as a woman or performing other over-the-top acts of submission. He and Brooke both thought my encounter with Kelly and her boyfriend was "funny as hell," but she was able to make him see how too much of that sort of thing had the potential to damage my career and livelihood. Given his contempt for higher education, I'm sure he didn't give a damn about my career per se. Brooke maintaining her financial independence from him was part of the arrangement, however, so my income mattered.
One of the concessions Luke agreed to early on, when the contractors were still finishing up their work in our house, was to not require me to wear only panties, pantyhose or translucent, footed tights during the day while the men were walking in and out of the living room, where I was usually at my desk writing. Instead, I was permitted to wear nylon/spandex yoga pants and undersized T-shirts that at least covered my belly button (or mostly). Don't get me wrong, these yoga pants were still humiliating; they were very tight, my small erection and balls clearly visible beneath the clingy fabric, and the colors Brooke purchased included white, lavender, turquoise and pink. But at least they weren't sheer and footed. Rather, I was required to be barefoot, my nails painted various shades (sometimes matching the color of my yoga pants). I liked to tell myself that perhaps the workers or delivery people who saw me thought I was wearing compression tights for some health reason or perhaps believed I was a serious yoga practitioner or something. But deep down, I knew that wasn't the case. I got some real stares (and snickers) from the young tradesmen, who must've thought I was a freak. I'm sure they also took note of the fact that I was dressed quite differently after Luke came onto the scene than before.
I remember one afternoon when Ed brought in two young men who were putting up drywall in the basement. They did a double take when they saw Luke and Brooke sitting on the couch kissing, while I, dressed in white yoga pants and a pink T-shirt, knelt near their feet strenuously buffing Luke's work boots. He, of course, was wearing his boots at the time and had propped one of them on top of the cedar shoe shine kit that he had ordered me to purchase that first time he spent the night. The men chuckled openly at the sight. When I briefly caught Ed's eye, I saw him shaking his head almost imperceptibly and frowning. It was a relatively small, tight knit community of workers who refurbished houses in the area, and I have no doubt that Luke had developed a reputation among them as a guy who ruthlessly took out the competition -- whether in business or in the bedroom. Eliminate, then humiliate. Luke's motto.
