Chivalry Is On Life Support Ch 22

At my weekly weigh-in on Saturday morning, the day of the dinner party, I was alarmed to discover that I had gained 1 pound. It didn't matter that I had already lost nearly 15 pounds. Each week was a new one with respect to my weight loss target. A 1 pound gain meant 12 strokes of the strap or cane. I had a lot of work to do cleaning the house and then preparing that evening's meal, and really dreaded doing it after 12 cuts of the cane from Luke; in addition, I would barely be able to sit down at the dinner table (during the few breaks I would have from serving everyone).

Luke said, "Well, fat boy, it looks like you've been cheating on your diet again. Probably sneaking back to that Thai restaurant in town you like so much." He was correct, sadly; I had treated myself to some shrimp Pad Thai and Tom Kha Gai soup the day before yesterday. I knew I should've stuck to the chicken satay with no rice.

"Put on those green punishment tights Brooke likes and bring me the cane," Luke said. I looked pleadingly at Brooke. She caught my eye and understood.

"Babe, Walter has a lot of work to do today to get ready for dinner tonight, and it's going to be hard for him if you give him 12 with the cane. Do you think that maybe you can use the strap this time instead?"

"The cane's a lot more effective. It's important that tubby here learns his lesson."

"But you want him to be able to do a good job cleaning and cooking, right? You know what he's like after you cane him that many times. He's a blubbering mess and has trouble moving around for a full day. Isn't there something he could do to convince you to punish him a different way, just this one time? Pretty please, babe."

I didn't wait for Luke to answer, but rather fell to my knees, lowered my face to his bare feet, and began begging in between kissing them. I knew he liked me to call him master or sire when he wanted me to really humble myself.

"Master, I beg you." Kiss. "Please use the strap today." Kiss. "It hurts plenty, I swear." Kiss "I promise to make it up to you by losing 3 pounds this coming week." Kiss, kiss, kiss.

"I'll hold you to that. I'll tell you what, cuck. I guess I'm feeling merciful today. Get the strap and a wooden spoon from the kitchen. Just make sure it's not one you're going to use for dinner tonight."

"Yes, master. Thank you master."

I changed into my Peter Pan tights and returned with the strap and the spoon, presenting them to Luke as I would the cane, on bended knee with my head bowed and palms upturned.

"Cuck, get the key to your chastity cage from your wife's ankle and hand it to me."

After I handed it to him, he pulled down my tights and removed my cage. I got immediately hard and heard Brooke giggle. Luke roughly pulled my tights back up and I stared down in shame at my green nylon tent.

"So, here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna give you twelve with the strap on your fat ass and then I'm gonna give you six smacks with the wooden spoon on your tiny cock and balls."

"But, sir, that's 18," I objected meekly.

"I can count, cuck. Unbelievable. Here I'm showing you mercy, and you're fucking complaining! I'm not feeling as merciful now. So I'll give you a choice. You either get eighteen strokes with the cane on your ass or twelve with the strap on your ass and twelve with the spoon on your cock. Do you want to complain again?"

"No, master. I'm so sorry. Please give me 12 with the strap and 12 with the spoon."

"Are you sure about that, prof?" He grinned at me wickedly.

"Yes, master. I think so."

"Bend over the bed. After each stroke I want you to say, 'Thank you for being merciful, master. May I please have another.'"

I repeated the clichéd, humiliating phrase the required 12 times. Brooke was watching from the recliner behind us, and I tried to envision the expression on her face. Was it one of amusement? Arousal? Maybe one would've been able to detect a hint of empathy in her eyes (or so I hoped)? Probably some combination of all of the above, but at least not contempt. Or I didn't think so, in any case. That wasn't Brooke's style -- unless she was exceptionally angry with me, which was rare. By the time Luke was finished, my ass was searing. But it wasn't as bad as the cane; not even close. And while I'm sure my ass must've been a deep shade of red, at least I wouldn't have to contend with the welts.

Brooke walked over and rubbed my buttocks through my tights, not too hard but not too gently either. I squirmed to evade her touch--a rarity, but it really hurt. She said to Luke, "Babe, I'm hotter than his ass. And it's smoking. Take me upstairs now and fuck me, please."

"Wait, his punishment is only half over! Aren't you paying attention?", he said to Brooke.

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry. You're going to spank his little balls."

"Damn straight. Lie down flat on the floor, cuck."

"Wait, sir," said Brooke. She reached into the dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of nipple clamps. "Let's add some extra punishment with these."

"Good idea, babe. Put them on him."

As she leaned over me, I gave her a look meant to convey, "Hey, I thought you were on my side." As she tweaked my nipples and affixed the clamps, she mouthed to me (out of Luke's view), "Trust me."

My cock had shriveled to a nub during my strapping. The clamps hurt like hell, but my cock instantly hardened as Brooke secured them tightly.

Luke said, "OK, keep your hands at your sides, and your legs straight out and pressed together. Don't move, or I'll start over."

He brought spoon down with force, partly on the base of my cock and partly on my balls. I yelped, but my cock stayed hard. I was lying next to the bed where Luke and Brooke were seated. She stuck her bare right foot under the chain between my nipple clamps and pulled up on them with it, causing me still more pain. But Brooke was well aware that there is a direct connection between my sensitive nipples and my cock. She continued to jerk the chain on my clamps with her foot as Luke administered additional strokes with the spoon. As I'm sure Brooke knew, having had no release in almost a week since she gave me a hand job, the smacks of the spoon on my cock were bringing me close to ejaculation. Especially with the assistance she was providing of nipple stimulation. Not to mention the visual stimulation of her pretty foot moving inches from my face.

When Luke hit me with the 12th and final stroke of the spoon. I was very close, but not quite there yet.

Even though I was not required to say "Sir, may I please have another" for this segment of my punishment, that's exactly what I said when Luke was finished, thrusting my pelvis upwards, as if pleading for additional abuse.

Luke knew what was going on, of course. He said, "This is supposed to be a punishment, not a reward. But if you're so pathetic that you'll actually get off to me abusing your little cock, I guess I'll allow it. But I think you need to do a better job of begging for it first. Convince me you really want it."

I continued thrusting my pelvis upwards as Luke rested the spoon against my balls, my cock throbbing helplessly through the nylon.

"Please master. Please smack my pathetic little balls again."

"Why, cuck?"

"Because I need to come, master. And the only way I deserve to come is by having my pathetic, little cock and balls beaten by a real man like you."

He struck my cock smartly with the spoon again, followed by my balls. Meanwhile, Brooke continued pulling up the chain with one foot, while placing the toes of her other foot over my lips and nose. As I inhaled, with Luke's continued assault on my cock, I entered the state of mind known as subspace. The pain of Luke's strikes started to feel pleasurable. I began to try to utter more abject words of beseechment, but my tongue was tied. I felt blissful, at peace, confident that I was where I belonged. After Luke stuck me a number additional times with the spoon (I was long past being able to count), I ejaculated profusely through my tights.

I was given perhaps 30 seconds to savor the after affects of my orgasm, before Brooke lifted her foot up with sufficient force to yank the nipple clamps off me. The fire in both of my nipples was intense. I heard both of them laugh as I grimaced and writhed on the floor beneath them.

Still half out of it, I heard Luke say, "Congratulations, prof, that was one of the most pathetic things I've ever seen in my life. Okay, babe, let's go upstairs now." He then turned to me. "Time for you to get up and get to work. Make sure you wash that spoon about a hundred times."

After the two of them went up to the bedroom, I rinsed off and soaked my tights in soapy water and took a shower. I then put on a pair of black women's boyshorts and a black T-shirt and began mopping the kitchen. About an hour into my cleaning, I unfortunately experienced the sensation known as sub drop, an occasional corollary to the much more enjoyable subspace. I suddenly felt sad and depressed, and questioned what I was doing with my life. How could I allow myself to subjected to such degradation. How could I actually get off on it? Why did the intensity of my orgasms seem directly tied to how humiliating they were? Did Brooke really love me? I was consumed with doubt and self-loathing, listening the bedsprings rock violently above me. I had experienced this sensation a couple of times before after similar scenes with Luke and Brooke. Sometimes the depression lasted a day or more, but that afternoon it only lasted for only a couple of hours, thankfully. I think that's because I had so much to do to prepare for dinner that evening; I didn't have the luxury of wallowing in my despair for too long.

As discussed, guests were my friend, Neil Lawson, and Brooke's friend from the restaurant, Laura, a waitress who was in her mid-20s, a few years younger than Brooke. I would be meeting her for the first time that evening. I planned out and prepared a three course meal, including beet and goat cheese salad for an appetizer, roasted chicken and vegetables, a side dish of creamed spinach, and a dessert of strawberry shortcake with homemade whipped cream.

As it was getting closer to the time when our guests were due to arrive, I dressed in the same waiter's uniform I had worn the first time I served Luke dinner. I felt ridiculous wearing a bow tie and apron with my tight black jeans, and barefoot (my nails painted a vivid shade of blue), thinking to myself how I could possibly explain the situation to Neil and also wondering what Brooke had shared with Laura about our relationship, and Luke.

Meanwhile, Luke and Brooke had gotten dressed for dinner and we were sitting in the living room, playing music and talking, as I was running around, getting things ready. Luke ordered me to get a him a Yuengling and Brooke a glass of red wine. My ears recoiled at the particular variety of grievance-filled country music he was blaring through my Bose speakers. I grew up on an eclectic mix of alternative, classic and punk rock -- as well as classical music, loved by my mother-- and while I occasionally enjoyed some urban country such as Lucinda Williams or even Johnny Cash, I truly despised the kind of country Luke favored, mostly about men celebrating their intellectual mediocrity and whining about those they viewed to be elites.

I knew Brooke agreed with me in her feelings about Luke's music. But I no longer got to pick the music in my house--if it could even be called that anymore. I love music, firmly believe my tastes are superior and find it exceedingly unpleasant to listen to what I consider bad music. Luke's brand of country was the worst, and being forced to listen to it was a type of non physical domination that I found especially humiliating (not to mention tortuous). I felt the same way about other cultural and political issues, where being forced to suppress, or in some cases, act directly counter to my views, was an extreme form of humiliation for me. It was in these instances that I was most prone to rebel. I did a couple of times, most unwisely. But more on that later.

When I served them the drinks, Luke said, "Where's your chastity cage?"

"In my bathroom, sir."

"Bring it to me."

After he locked it back on me, Luke said, "Take off those jeans and put on those black stretchy pants you wear. What are they called babe?"

"Yoga pants," answered Brooke.

"But, sir, Neil is my colleague. Everyone will see the medal of my cage beneath yoga pants. Please don't make me wear them."

"You're lucky I'm not making you wear your stained green tights. Change now, or maybe our guests will be treated to seeing you get the caning you managed to wiggle your way out of earlier today."

Wishing to avoid a still more compromising situation, I did as commanded. Examining myself in the mirror, the bulk of my chastity cage was clearly visible beneath the clingy synthetic fabric of the pants, whether one was looking for something there or not.

After I put it on, Luke ordered me to present myself for inspection.

I thought I would venture a small request. "Sir, may I please wear some sneakers or socks, at least?"

"What, and hide your polished toes? No, I like you barefoot when you're working in the kitchen. I don't know what you're so worried about? I'm sure your woke professor buddy will love your new look. Maybe his wife locks up his cock too?"

"Neil is still single, sir."

"What, is he a fag?"

"I don't believe so, sir. He has dated several women before. I just don't think he's met the right woman yet."

"Maybe we can set him up with Laura," said Brooke.

"See, prof, this evening is full of possibilities."

The doorbell rang. Luke said, "It sounds like our first guest has arrived. Prof, I want you to say 'Welcome to our home, sir or miss. May I please take your coat?' After you hang up their coat, I want you to bring him here, introduce them to me and get them a drink. I want you to address our guests respectfully all evening. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

I hurried to the door, opened it and stood face to face with my friend and colleague, Neil.

"Welcome to our home, sir. May I please take your coat?"

Neil looked me up and down, and said, "Sir? Are you okay, Walter? What the hell is going on?"

I whispered to him, "Everything is fine, Neil." I tried to smile. "I'll explain later. Now let me introduce you to Luke."