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.
"Alright, I'm feeling generous today. I'll tell Kevin you'll wash and detail his truck on Monday afternoon. The weather forecast is good. It's supposed to be in the upper 60s. I guess one benefit of you both having your mouths full is I don't have to listen to any bullshit about climate change. You can have the key back, for tomorrow and Friday at least. Now lick my ball sack while your wife services my cock."
I did as he commanded. While not the first time I had done so, I found this task distinctly unpleasant, whether more because of the intense humiliation of it or the physical repugnance of it is difficult to say. At least Luke was a big believer in manscaping, so I didn't have to contend with hair. Our lips only inches apart from each other, Brooke and I continued to work until he ejaculated, into her mouth and onto my face. We then cleaned him off with our tongues. When he went to the bathroom afterwards, Brooke and I high fived each other, the taste of Luke in our mouths and his sticky semen drying on our faces and in our hair. Absurdly, we laughed, giddy at our hard won, minor victory. That is how Brooke and I won my freedom on Thanksgiving day.
Together we made a fairly simple dinner (limited to turkey with gravy, stuffing, cranberry sauce and brussel sprouts) and ate it together with a nice bottle of red wine. Afterwards we gave each other pedicures and then cuddled on the couch while watching Roman Polanski's Bitter Moon, she fully dressed and me wearing a pair of navy blue tights. Before the movie started, she took my chastity key off her anklet and unlocked me. The relief at being liberated was intense, as was the anticipation about what lay ahead that evening. During the movie, especially during the scenes when Mimi humiliates Oscar, she teased me my rubbing her nyloned feet against my balls and cock, nylon against nylon. It took real concentration (as well as skill on Brooke's part to not go too far) for me not to erupt right then and there on the couch. After the movie, Brooke indulged me by allowing me to worship her feet for 30 minutes. Knowing how the commingled scent of leather, nylon and her feet drove me absolutely insane (in a the best possible way), she had worn black, sheer stockings and her long brown boots all day.
When she was ready to let me worship her, she said, "Okay, my meek, duteous knight. It is time for thou to humble thyself at thy lady's feet. Strip to thy tights and kneel before her. Thou may now remove thy lady's boot and freely partake of the aroma of her flawless feet."
After removing her boot, I brought it up to my face and inhaled it deeply and repeatedly. The scent was exquisite. After I did the same with the second boot, she placed both of her moist, stocking-clad feet up against my nose and allowed me to inhale her scent and gently nuzzle her feet with my face. She then ordered me to lay prostate at her feet, and placed both of them over my face. Over the next 20 minutes or so, she moved her feet with delightful restlessness, sometimes gently mashing my face, other times rubbing her feet through my hair (practically giving me a scalp massage) or over my nipples, and still other times inserting her toes into my mouth to suck. I was in ecstasy.
And that was before we ascended the stairs to the bedroom. It had been quite some time since I had last spent the night with Brooke in my old bed (as opposed to sleeping at the foot of the bed on the floor or being called onto the bed for some brief cleanup duty before being dismissed by Luke). When we lied down on it she started kissing me with passion. She then got on top of me, pulled down my tights and inserted me into her. She squeezed my nipples as we made love. What can I say? I did the best I could. After a few minutes of her bouncing on top of me, I ejaculated into her. She didn't look completely bored; I think she actually might have even enjoyed it a little. Maybe?
In any event, I then went down on her, bringing to her to a point that she unambiguously enjoyed before we spooned each other and drifted off to a peaceful sleep. As I said, pure bliss. In that moment, I was as happy as I could be. Friday was similar in many ways, except we went out to a romantic dinner at an excellent French restaurant in town.
But all good things must come to an end, sadly.
Things got off to a bad start on Saturday at my weekly weigh-in when I registered a 2 pound gain. Thanksgiving dinner, the bottle of wine and Friday dinner at the French restaurant (with yet another bottle of wine) had done its damage, despite my attempts to limit my portion sizes. I had recognized this was a danger even as I was eating the meals and drinking the wine, but I was simply enjoying my time with Brooke too much to really care at that point.
I cared that Saturday, however, when Luke tapped the cane against my bottom as a prelude to administering my correction. Brooke, no doubt, must have felt conflicted at that moment. As much as she was turned on by watching Luke punish me, she knew how much I dreaded the cane, and I'm sure she felt somewhat complicit in my weight gain that particular week given our last couple of days of shared indulgence. Accordingly, she tried to intervene on my behalf.
"Babe, don't you think you can make an exception this one week because of Thanksgiving? Everybody gains some weight after Thanksgiving dinner. I know I did."
"Stop making excuses for him. When you're on a strict diet, you're on a strict diet. It's his responsibility to show some discipline. And since he didn't, I intend to."
