Chivalry is on Life Support Ch. 19
Brooke was always submissive to Luke when it came to sexual things, but after a specific day, the balance of power in their relationship shifted. It became clear that Brooke desperately depended on Luke more than he did on her. As a result, she didn't want to leave him even when he pushed her too far, afraid that it might lead to a long separation - or even worse, him ending the whole arrangement. I believed that he was highly unlikely to bring an end to this, as he had things too good as it was - his ex-wife was basically his sex toy, and Brooke's new husband was his slave. Yet, Luke took advantage of this, exploiting Brooke by being more humiliating and controlling, not just sexually.
We can observe this through football, for instance.
Once during early September, almost half a year after Luke's intrusion, Brooke and I were alone in the house while Luke was working on a big plumbing task at a school nearby. Brooke appeared at the foot of the stairs dressed in a short cheerleader's outfit, wearing blue and white uniform with the word "Daddy" on it. It exposed her midriff and was a tad revealing. She asked me for my opinion.
"You look extremely sexy. Maybe the sexiest cheerleader I've ever seen. But it's a bit odd for you to dress like that, Brooke. Most cheerleaders I know from high school were very superficial. And cheerleading itself is more exploitation of women, if you ask me. All those stuffy, prudish Christians find it amusing to stare at cheerleaders' skirts or see their chests bouncing when they jump around. They talk about modesty and morality but then go and enjoy something like that."
"That's exactly what I think. I always thought cheerleaders - the way they dress, the shorts that are too short, like that - is another form of institutionalized mistreatment of women."
"So why are you dressed like this? Despite what I said about cheerleaders, I have to say you look hot in that uniform."
"Luke's football season is starting on Saturday, and he wants to be cheered on."
"I've never been much of a sports fan. Actually, football seems rather brutal to me."
"I agree, you know. I'm not a big fan of sports in general. And football seems especially brutal. With all these brain injuries and whatnot."
"Did you used to dress like that for him when you were still married?"
"Once or twice, but I usually resisted it. I never liked the idea of dressing up like that. It seemed demeaning."
"So what makes you want to do it now?"
"Maybe I've become more relaxed. Or maybe it's because I know that, since we're no longer married, if I really want to, I can tell him to put those pom poms in his ass."
"But you don't want to."
"A part of me does. But another part of me fears that he might stop supporting me if I don't do what makes him happy. I intend to have some fun with it. So will you."
I didn't really pay attention to her last statement; I just thought she meant that I would enjoy watching her in her skimpy little outfit. However, when I headed upstairs to get dressed an hour later, she followed me. On the bed, she had laid out a pink and white uniform exactly like the one Brooke wore, along with two matching pom poms.
When I turned to face her, she wore a large grin.
"You don't seriously expect me to wear this, do you?"
"Definitely. Put it on now. I ordered it in the largest size available and want to see if it fits you."
I took off my shirt and put on the uniform. It fit well.
Brooke chuckled. "Now hold up the pom poms and cheer."
"Rah rah," I said half-heartedly, waving the two big pom poms above my head.
Fondling my stomach with her fingers and teasing me, she said, "Aww, dear. I understand you're not too happy about your pot belly. Although you've trimmed down a bit. It's starting to look better. I believe those sit-ups you've been doing are beginning to show improvement."
"Not enough."
"Here's the deal," she declared. "Luke wants both of us to support him, and we will. I chose the outfit with the least visible waistline it could find. I did that just for you. What's more, you'll only have to dress up like this at home. He, on the other hand, wants me to wear the cheerleader getup to every home match, and you'll be cheering alongside me, although not in uniform. Understand?"
"Yes, mistress."
We practiced cheers using video tutorials with Brooke and later that day, we took on the following cheer:
Mightier than titanium (clap, clap)
Hotter than the furnace;
Luke stands firm (clap, clap)
Until he crosses the finish line.
Waving our pom poms in synchronicity, we yelled, "Go, Luke, go!"
Walking down the stairs in full swing, he stood before us, sporting his football gear, and then ordered, "You get to cheer at home wit ha minimum of belly on display. I'm going to expect you in this uniform whenever I'm about to leave for a home game and whenever I return, even if we win or lose. C'mon, now, let's practice."
"Yes, m'lady."
I couldn't help but feel self-conscious whilst clad in this uniform, yet I watched instructional videos with Brooke and rehearsed several different cheers.
On a Saturday afternoon, Luke donned his football uniform in the bedroom, so Brooke and I, attired in our uniforms, sat awaiting him in the living room. As soon as he emerged sporting this cheer:
Firmer than armed steel (clap, clap)
Hotter than burning sun
Luke won't end (clap, clap)
Till the game is won.
We then put down our pom poms and shouted collectively, "Go, Luke, go!"
He beamed and said, "Babe, you'll look mighty sexy in that costume. Now come here so I'll give you a welcome kiss."
Turning to me, he added, "Let's just say I never imagined I'd see you in this attire. You're a real sight to behold, professor - amusing, to say the least. I expect that you'll wear it often."
"Yes, master."
Disappointed, we missed attending this match as it was a few hours' drive away. After returning later that evening, he greeted us at the door with the same cheer. His distressed facial expression made it clear he had lost.
"We lost, 6-3. Our defense prevented them from scoring, allowing only two worthless field goals. The offence was nightmarish. I told the coach he should replace our porous quarterback with the second option. It was a nightmare."
"I apologize, darling. But couldn't our expansive pom-pom love cheer bring a bit of comfort?"
He dismissed, "Hold it. Something that will truly cheer me up is if you, my hot cheerleader, spread her legs wide, while your 'butt ugly' counterpart cleans my sweaty cleats and washes my jock strap. Let's do it."
He dropped his jock strap onto my face. "Start by scrubbing my soiled cleats with soapy water and a stiff toothbrush whilst I give your beautiful wife pleasure."
"Yes, master."
Almost nude, Luke tossed away his jersey, uniform, and shoes, tossing them to the ground at his feet. Gawking at his cock, Brooke gushed, "Boy, that's certainly cheer-inducing."
"Bring my stained shirt and shoes, with a pail of water containing mild detergent and a roll of of duct tape."
"Yes, master."
"I'm pleased."
Following my master's command, I collected all the necessary equipment, along with ourselves, and then took my place on the floor by his side in our room. "Scrub my dirty cleats vigorously with the soapy toothbrush," he instructed. "I insist they're clean enough to eat from. But I'm considering having you consume your supper from them and sterilizing them with your toothbrush as a post-dinner chore. And given that I squashed some canine waste on the field, it's essential that you clean them thoroughly, servant."
"Yes, master. Surely, master."
Inside the room, while still donning the absurd outfit, I cleaned Luke's cleats with a toothbrush as I gazed upon him roughly handling Brooke. He initially threw her onto the bed and removed most of her attire except for her ankle socks. Her hair was in two pigtails for the cheerleader image, and he pulled her towards his towering dick using her pigtails. She licked his penis forcefully. He then abruptly stopped, pushing her nose into his right armpit. The perspiration from the game likely had dried, but it was a warm autumn night, making his muscular chest glisten slightly; his pits couldn't have been fragrant. Nonetheless, Brooke pressed her face deeply into his armpit and exhaled with glee. Holding onto her pigtail, he dragged her back onto his genitals. He alternated between penis and both armpits several more times.
The second time he elevated her to his right armpit, he calmly ordered, "Lick." She obeyed, and there was no need for him to instruct her to lick the left one when he raised her to that one a little later.
I had licked her smooth armpits in the past, and their smell was, without a doubt, arousing. But witnessing Brooke lick Luke's hairy, sweaty underarm filled me with disgust. Or perhaps it aroused me. My erect member pulsated angrily inside its restraint while I watched this action unfold.
"How's it going with my shoes, cuck?"
"I've cleaned them multiple times, and I'm confident I've removed all the turf stains and faeces from your cleats, master."
Brooke laughed while Luke said, "Better had, or else. But you can't clean the inside of a shoe, can you?"
"No, master." When I raised his cleats off the ground to bring them upstairs, I felt a coating of sweat clinging to the shoes. They were not new and the odor was far from inviting as I washed them thoroughly.
Luke, his usual abrupt and ferocious nature, pulled Brooke up from the bed, putting her back down in the same position. He smacked her fanny with his fist, "Spread your rear cheeks with your fingers, hold your bottom up, don't move. I'll be back shortly."
Regarding me, he said, "You're in luck, cuck. You're going to witness today. Sit in that chair." He thrust me into the chair. He then picked up one of his cleats, along with the adhesive tape on the floor, and swiftly placed it directly over my nose, securing it with the tape. The tape was wrapped around my hair at the back of my head, and it hurt tremendously when he removed it later, following the punishing of his beloved Brooke. Meanwhile, he instructed me to connect my wrists, and tightly wrapped them with the tape as well.
The stench of his foot odor pervaded the atmosphere, but this was my immersive sensory experience for the next thirty minutes or so. That, and watching him violently penetrate all of Brooke's orifices. The first time he took her anally, he placed his shoe adjacent to her face rather than above it (as he did the first time I saw him take her).
"Lick my large toe, whore." And thus, Brooke began licking it, interspersed with her moans. He then had her kneel before him, forcing her to lick her own anal secretions off his dick. He then flung her back onto the bed, slapped her face multiple times, and pinched her nipples roughly while penetrating her vaginally. Brooke was naturally loud (primarily vocalizations instead of words, such as "Yes, baby," "Gentler, no harder," "Please, baby," and "Yes, I'm your dirty little slut"), again experiencing multiple orgasms. He concluded by ejaculating all over her face. I despised his treatment of her, picturing myself circling his neck with my bound hands and smashing his face with my confined fists. What can I say? My imagination is quite prominent...That's likely one of the crucial reasons I became a literature professor specializing in medieval spectacle.
He eventually took the sneaker off my face (I screeched when my hair was gripped), and in a matter-of-fact tone, "Time for you to kiss your spouse, cuck." I smooched her on the lips through Luke's semen reservoir, repulsed yet aroused by the prison of my chastity gadget.
Brooke and Luke showered together. Sometimes, I was fortunate enough to shower with them, although it wasn't always the case after cleaning them up. After our shower, Luke made me wear my cheerleading outfit to serve them dinner. I prepared veggie and cheese omelettes, along with a salad. As they ate, I stood by the table, dressed like a character from a dirty old man's fantasy.
After they finished, Luke made me eat my omelette off his cleat. He found it amusing while watching me. When I reached for my knife and fork, he said, "Hold on there, Professor. You're not going to ruin my cleat with your cutlery. Use your hands."
"Yes, sir. I wasn't thinking, sir." I proceeded to pick up the egg and eat it off his cleat, leaving some on the studs. When I collected the cleat to clean it in the kitchen, Luke remarked, "Wow, that omelette was tasty. We're all 'clean plate' members, here. Lick the egg off the cleat, please."
I was incredibly embarrassed, but I did what he instructed, with them both giggling. The night ended with us watching an action movie on cable while Luke rested his feet on my back. We changed into our pajamas (Luke into boxers, Brooke into panties and a T-shirt, and me into transparent gray tights). When they wanted popcorn, I brought them some and lined up the bowl at Luke's feet. Delighted, he ordered me to feed me with kernels between his toes. Brooke observed, laughing, and said, "You're horrible."
Luke grinned, "I'm Luke the Terrible."
I hoped fervently that Luke's sports team won every game.
Read also:
- No desire to debate
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- Big Bouncy Babe Butt Cheeks
- We take revenge on the tyrant
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