Thanksgiving was wonderful, pure bliss. Luke spent it with his mother and her second husband along with Kevin and his girlfriend, Kaylee. Brooke's mother and stepfather were away and her father liked to keep to himself, even on holidays. So, it was just two of us -- both Thursday and Friday. Which for me, at least, was perfection. I know it may be difficult for some to understand, but times such as this made up for all of the far more numerous days of humiliation and servitude I endured. For me, quality has always been more important than quantity. And having Brooke to myself -- a sexually satisfied (because of Luke, of course), happy, playful, indulgent Brooke -- was the ultimate in quality time. The rareness of the occasions when it was just the two of us together since Luke's emergence on the scene made them more special still. When Brooke was content, the two of us had incredibly intimate, fun and happy times together. To me, it seemed that the humiliation I suffered on a more routine basis was the price I had to pay to have this exceptional, beautiful, sexy, complex woman in my life, as my wife. Call me pathetic, call me spineless if you will (and I'm sure many of you will -- that, and much worse), it was a price I willingly paid.
One of the things that made this Thanksgiving particularly enjoyable was that Brooke and I had been able to persuade Luke to allow her to fully control my chastity until he returned on Saturday. This concession had been won the prior evening and, like most things with Luke, did not come easily.
Brooke and I approached him on the couch while he was watching ESPN. She sat down next to him, as I brought him a glass of Gentleman Jack. Wearing nothing but skimpy, light blue, nylon panties, I presented him the glass on my knees, holding it out steadily on my upturned palms pressed together.
"May I massage your feet, sir, while you watch TV and enjoy your bourbon?", I volunteered, after he took the glass.
He picked his large socked foot up from the floor and pressed it against my face, eliciting a giggle from Brooke. Not wishing to have his sock inserted into my mouth, I inhaled visibly, as I knew was expected. He had worn the socks all day, so the odor was pungent, though they were dry at least, thankfully.
"You must want something. I can tell the two of you are up to something. Pull my socks off with your mouth. Then start with my right foot."
"Yes, sir."
Brooke started kissing him passionately as I worked on his foot. She said in between kisses, "Babe, could I please have my copy of Walter's chastity key back while you're away? He's been such a good boy lately, and he needs something to be thankful for on Thanksgiving."
"I knew it. You two are pretty obvious. What do I get out of it?"
Meanwhile, Brooke had started rubbing his cock through his jeans and it began to tent out the denim. "Pretty please, baby! He lost his two pounds this week and has done all of his chores."
"Sir, I will wash and detail your car. I'll clean all of your footwear."
"But you do all those things for me anyway, prof. What is something extra that you can do?"
"I'll make your favorite dinner on Sunday night, sir."
By then, Brooke had unzipped him and worked his now mostly erect cock out from his underwear and started gently licking his shaft.
"Again, all I have to do is to tell you to make it, and you will. You need to think of something above and beyond."
"Babe, stand up for a minute and take off your jeans and underwear, so I can give you a proper, mind blowing blowjob," Brooke said.
"Well, if you insist," Luke replied, smiling.
I paused in my massage until he removed his pants and sat back down on the couch. I then pressed into the ball of his right foot with renewed vigor.
"Do you need anything done around your house, sir? May I clean your garage?", I asked. Brooke had resumed her oral worship of his enormous, now fully erect cock, beginning to suck on its head.
"Same category, prof. I tell you what. Kevin's truck is a mess. It's white, but it almost looks black with all the grime and road salt. If you wash and detail his truck, that might convince me."
The thought of having to wash the truck of the arrogant brat who ratted Brooke and me out the last time I had a release from my chastity was abhorrent to me. That fact notwithstanding, I didn't hesitate in my response.
"Yes, sir. It would be my pleasure to wash your brother's truck. I will make it look like brand new."
"That feels good baby," he said, wrapping his fingers in Brooke's hair. To me: "You will treat him with the same respect you give me, of course."
"Without question, sir." I then began sucking his big toe, slurping on it in the manner I knew he liked, hopeful that this surfeit of oral attention would convince him to give Brooke her copy of my chastity key back.
