Chivalry is on Life Support Ch. 29

November was a very eventful, and therefore exceptionally busy, month for me. It was also an exceptionally humiliating one, at least compared to what came before it (if not to what came later, as everything is relative).

Luke's and Neil's bonding continued, much to my chagrin. After the Ren fair, they started lifting weights together at the gym on Saturday mornings. On the second Saturday of the month, I had a setback in my weight loss momentum, having gained a pound at my weekly weigh-in that morning. Consequently, I was to receive 12 strokes of one of the punishment implements hanging on the wall. My primary focus at that point was on persuading Luke to use the paddle, strap or riding crop rather than the cane, or Scottish tawse. I went straight into kowtow mode, with Brooke looking on amusedly.

"Sir, I can't think what happened. I have been very careful this week. I haven't cheated at all."

That was not completely true, as I did enjoy a delicious vindaloo curry at my favorite Indian restaurant in town on Wednesday for lunch. After my conversation with Paul Betz the prior day, I decided I needed to allow myself some sort of indulgence. I was aware that I tend to eat more when highly stressed, and could see how my diet might be endangered by the additional stress that Paul's demands would be placing on me. That self awareness, however, did not prevent me from ordering the rich curry, along with garlic naan bread and vegetable samosas. I was now paying the price for my lack of self discipline.

"The scale doesn't lie, prof."

"Sir, sometimes it's just water weight. I drank a lot of water last night and this morning. Could we please try again this afternoon?"

"I think that's total bullshit, but I'm willing to let you do another weigh-in when I get back from the gym. I don't have time to punish you now anyway. I'm meeting Neil at the gym in 20 minutes."

"Thank you, sir. I'll work out with Brooke on the treadmill while you're at the gym, and I'm pretty sure that I'll sweat out the excess water weight."

"Knock yourself out, prof."

"But, sir, in the unlikely event that I don't lose 3 pounds by this afternoon, may I humbly request that you correct me with the paddle or the strap?"

"Why not the cane, prof? It's without a doubt the most effective at changing your behavior."

"I understand, sir. And you certainly know best. However, I still have some bruises that haven't fully healed from the Ren fair and from our training session on Thursday. And you are so powerful, sir, that the cane in your hands is exceedingly painful."

"Well, that's the whole point, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir. As I said, you know best. I simply ask that you please consider it, although I'm hopeful it won't be necessary at all. Here, sir, let me tie your shoes for you." I dropped to my knees and double tied both of his sneakers, as he liked. I heard Brooke snicker.

"Wait, sir. There's a little smudge here. It doesn't look good. Let me get my brush. It will only take a minute."

As I ran upstairs to get the brush I used to clean Luke's athletic gear, I heard Brooke say, "Wow. He really doesn't want you to use that cane."

When I came back downstairs, I quickly ran into the bathroom to wet the brush before I hurried back over to where Luke was standing by the front door. As I scurried over to him and dropped to my knees, I practically slid to his feet on the hardwood floor in my tights, in an attempt to demonstrate my sense of urgency in the most obsequious manner possible. I quickly scrubbed the mark on his shoe until it faded.

"There now, that looks much better, sir." I then placed a quick peck on the toe of each sneaker before standing. "I hope you have an excellent workout, sir."

"You too, cuck. Good luck losing 3 pounds by this afternoon," he said, chuckling, as he walked out the door.

After Luke left, Brooke said, "You are an incredible suck-up, you know that?"

"I learned from the best," I replied with a smile.

"You better watch it, mister, or I'll be the one using the cane on you before he even gets back," she said, returning my smile.

Brooke then changed into her incredibly sexy spandex workout top and shorts, which showed off her tight abdomen and long, toned legs.

"Can I put on my gym shorts?", I asked.

"No, leave the tights on. I like watching you run in them."

I rolled my eyes, but complied, of course. We went down into our basement gym and began a rigorous aerobic workout, me on the treadmill and Brooke on the stationary bike. After about a half an hour, we both took a water break. Following the break, I went back on the treadmill while Brooke went upstairs. She returned a moment later holding the riding crop, and walked over to me, swishing it in the air, theatrically.

I looked at her incredulously. Smiling mischievously, she said, "I thought you could use a little motivation. It's gonna be pretty hard for you to lose so much weight in a few hours."

"Brooke! I'm trying to avoid punishment, not get more. Besides, we both know there's no way I'm going to lose 3 pounds. I'm just hoping maybe it's a pound or so, so that I can reduce the number of strokes. God, please don't let it be the cane."

"You don't believe in God."

"It's just a figure of speech."

"I know, dummy. Don't worry, I'm not going to hit you too hard. I'm just going to give you a little encouragement whenever I notice you starting to slow down. You'll thank me for it later."

While I doubted that, I had to admit that Brooke looked unbelievably sexy in her skimpy clothes, swishing that crop--like a dominatrix personal trainer. My cock swelled against its cage. She adjusted the treadmill to give me a much higher incline to run up. After about five minutes, I did start to slow down a bit and she swatted me on my right buttock with the crop. It stung mildly, but was honestly more playful than anything else. I stayed on the treadmill for another hour or so, taking sips of water periodically as I ran. Brooke was true to her word in that she continued to encourage me with the crop throughout my workout. The final two strokes were a little more painful than the others, but still essentially playful in nature. I was drenched in sweat by the time I finished and removed my soaking tights before taking a shower.

After my shower, I changed into a pair of black yoga pants and a T-shirt. Not surprisingly, I decided to skip lunch that day. I sat across from Brooke at the table, drinking a glass of water and staring enviously at her salad as she ate.

"Well, I hope you managed to lose something at least, and I hope he agrees not to use the cane. He seems to be in a pretty good mood today. Maybe he'll go easy on you."

"You probably wish that he goes harder on me," I said with a half pout, half smile.

"Don't be silly. I enjoy watching him punish you, but I don't want him to really hurt you."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. Ask away."

"Why DO you like seeing him beat me so much?"

Rather than make a joke, she paused and looked reflective. "That's a good question. It's complex, I guess. To be more accurate, it's complex in one way, but pretty simple in another way. It's not that I like seeing him cause you pain. Or like seeing you in pain. But I do like that you're willing to suffer for me. Does that sound terrible?"

"No. It's what the chivalric code is largely about."

"Right. But it's more than that. We've talked about this before. There's just something so incredibly hot about seeing a guy like Luke completely control and dominate a guy like you. And it's weird. Knowing that you're smarter than he is, and a lot nicer than he is, that just makes it hotter. It's really not that much different than then when he smacks me around or spanks me. Would I be turned on by a big, beefy intellectual guy -- a progressive feminist -- taking me over his knee and blistering my bottom? Yeah, I probably would. But not to nearly the same extent as when Luke does it. It's the dichotomy of it that makes it more humiliating, which makes it more erotic. Does that make sense to you?"

"I think so, yes. You're sort of a masochist yourself, as well as a sadist, is what you're saying. And it all really does always come back to the game for you, doesn't it?"

"Largely, yes. But it's not all intellectual. It's the physical sensations, too. I quite like having my bottom warmed up. Don't you?"

"Up to a point, yes. But when it's too hard, my arousal sometimes goes away pretty quickly. It depends on the situation, I guess. Who's there? Who's watching?"

"Exactly. But the combination of the humiliation with the physical sensations is what can be truly erotic. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow of it, even when it's really humiliating. That would be my advice to you, Walter. Luke is clearly amping things up with you. With us. Try to go with the flow."

"I'll try to remember that when he's beating my ass later today."

"I'm being serious, you know."

"I know you are. I'll try. Do you think I could maybe have a couple of your cherry tomatoes?"

Just then we heard doors slam in the driveway, and a moment later, Luke walked into the house with Neil. Who was supposed to be MY friend. Not his. As fond as I am of Neil, I was not happy to see him that afternoon. He and Luke were both talking animatedly and laughing together at some joke.

Brooke stood up and gave Neil a peck on the cheek. "Hey, Neil. Nice to see you. How's Laura? I haven't seen her since the Ren fair."

"She's fine. She had me over for dinner last night. She's a great cook! I haven't yet properly thanked you for introducing us. Thanks, Brooke. Laura's terrific."

"You're very welcome. It sounds like you two have been pretty inseparable."

"Hey, pal," said Neil to me.

"Hi, Neil."

Still in their workout clothes, Neil and Luke sat down at the table with us.

"Get the man a beer," Luke said to me. "And get me one while you're at it. I tell you this guy is a lot stronger than he looks. He benched 250, ten reps, with no problem."

Neil laughed, and said, "Well, that's nothing compared to what you can do. You pressed 290 like it was nothing."

"See, prof, not all college professors are wimps. This guy knows how to take care of himself."

"Well, I do work hard to keep myself in shape." Neil turned to me, "Speaking of which, Luke told me about the setback with your diet. I was disappointed to hear it. You were doing so well."

"Well, it's just a temporary setback. I think it may have been water weight. We're going to do another weigh-in later today."

"I think more likely it was that doughnut I saw you eating on Thursday at the Corner Cafe. You know doughnuts are fried, don't you? They're one of the most fattening foods there are, and one of the worst for your health." Shit, I had completely forgotten about that chocolate doughnut! And now Neil had busted me to Luke.

"Doughnut! You promised me this morning that you didn't cheat! You're in big trouble, prof," said Luke, angrily.

"Thanks a lot, Neil," I said.

"Neil is a guest in this house, and you will treat him with respect. I don't care how you address him at your college, but when I'm staying here, he's my guest and you will address him as 'sir.' Got it, cuck?"

"Yes, sir."

"As a matter of fact, when we were lifting weights, I told Neil how disappointed I am in you for taking so long to lose weight, all your ups and downs, and backsliding. Every time you seem like you're making real progress, you screw it up by cheating. And then, on top of it all, you fucking lie me?!"

"I sincerely apologize, sir. I honestly forgot about the doughnut." I hung my head.

"Yeah, I'll bet. What else did you forget, I wonder. Probably lunch at that Thai joint you're so addicted to, and god knows what else."

"No, sir."

"How can I believe anything you tell me?"

"Babe, remember that Walter has lost over 20 pounds even with the weight he gained this past week. He's doing pretty well," Brooke interjected.

"Brooke, this is a conversation between the men. Men's bodies are different than women's." He turned back towards me: "As a matter of fact, your friend Neil gives more of a damn about your health than you do, which is sad. He tells me he's been trying to get you to lose weight for years."

"Yes, sir. That's true," I said.

"Well, I've asked him to help me keep you on the straight and narrow, and he has generously agreed. Because he actually gives a shit about you. I've asked him to keep an eye on you at your work, because that's where you obviously do most of your cheating."

"Thank you, sir," I said to Neil.

Neil nodded his head at me.

"Neil, you can be more helpful than just keeping an eye on your friend here. As I told you, one of the ways I keep him honest--or at least, somewhat honest, I should say-- is by disciplining him. Because he's so lacking in self discipline."

Neil smiled. "I remember he was having a little trouble sitting down at dinner a couple of weeks ago. It's hard to argue with your methods, Luke. You've had more success in getting Walter to lose weight in 4-5 months than I've had in over five years, with my words."

"Words don't mean a damn thing with Walter. He's full of empty words. So, I'd like you to help me in disciplining him today. Humiliation is also a powerful motivator, and I bet he'd work extra hard to avoid repeating the humiliation of being disciplined by his friend and co-worker. Wouldn't you, cuck?"

"Yes, sir."

"Will you help me out, Neil? Will you help out your friend?", asked Luke.

"Like I said, I can't find fault with your methods, Luke. All I care about are the results, and Walter's health. So yes, I'll help in any way that I can."

"That's much appreciated, Neil. Prof, I think you better express your gratitude to your friend. He's a really good friend."

This was unbelievable. I was not only going to have to endure the unspeakable humiliation of being punished by my long-time friend and colleague, I was going to have to actually thank him for it! In front of Brooke, no less. The best man at my wedding.

I turned to Neil. "Thank you, sir. Thank you for caring about me." Then I said to Luke, "But, sir, what about the second weigh-in? I sweated a lot when you were at the gym."

"Well, there's the issue of your weight. But there's also the issue of your cheating, and then lying about it. But let's address one at a time. Let's do the weigh-in now."

We all walked over to the scale. To no one's surprise, my weight was identical to what it had been four hours earlier. All of that hard work for nothing.

"So, 12 strokes it is. For the weight gain. The lying is a separate matter. We can deal with that another time. So, the only remaining question is what implement to use. You see, Neil, the cane is by far the most effective implement in convincing tubby to reform his behavior. But he really hates it, and was trying his damndest this morning to convince me to use the strap or paddle instead. I tell you what, cuck. Since Neil is going to be the one disciplining you today, it's him you've got to convince, not me. Neil, your buddy has gotten real good at giving foot massages. He could even become one of those reflex...."

"Reflexologists?", offered Neil.

"Exactly. Reflexologists. And I don't know about you, but my feet are killing me after that workout. Maybe if he does a really good job, you could consider his request to not use the cane this time, despite it's proven results. We can have another beer and talk while he works. I'd like your opinion on a new business venture I'm considering." Luke put his arm on Neil's back and steered him towards the couch.

Neil chuckled. "Nothing beats a good foot massage. My feet are pretty sore, too. And I'd love to hear about your new possible business venture. When I was a kid, I ran a small business, mowing neighbors's lawns, painting houses, fixing stuff around their houses. Plumbing too, of course. Though I'd get my dad to do any major plumbing work they needed. Small time stuff, but I had a couple of other kids working for me. The point is, I've always been fascinated by business, especially residential services. Walter, would you mind getting us a couple of fresh beers."

When I returned with the beers, Luke said, "Masssge our guest's feet first."

"Yes, sir."

When Neil bent over and started to untie his sneaker, Luke said, "You don't need to do that. This is a full service establishment. Prof will take care of everything, won't you?"

"Yes, sir."

Brooke sat on the recliner, pretending to read her iPhone, but I could tell she was surreptitiously watching this new twist in our ever evolving game with interest. And

as I observed Brooke's interest, right on cue, my cock throbbed with its own interest.

When I untied Neil's sneakers and removed his socks, he said, smiling, "Sorry, pal, I imagine they're a bit ripe after all the sweating Luke and I did today at the gym. It was quite a workout."

"No problem, sir," I said as I began kneading his soles.

"Don't worry about him. He's pretty used to the smell of foot sweat," said Luke. I heard Brooke lightly snicker.

At Brooke and Luke's insistence, I had learned various massage techniques, including thumb walking, finger walking, toe bending, heel squeezing, foot spreading, achillies and toe massage and pressure point rotation (I had consulted one of the pretty young Asian women at the nail spa a few times, and tipped her handsomely). From the satisfied sounds and praise coming from Neil, I had learned my lessons pretty well, apparently.

"Oh, my god, that feels good. I can almost feel the stress leaving my body. Where did you learn to do this, Walter? You're better at this than most of the girls in the massage parlors I've been to."

Luke answered for me, "We had him get some lessons from the pros. But you're right, he's pretty damn good. He's a natural."

"You're not kidding. That feels amazing. I could easily get used to this," Neil replied.

"He's at your disposal," said Luke. "Maybe he can even come by your office when you're at work together. I bet your feet must hurt after standing up in front of a class all day."

"Well, usually I just have a couple of classes, so I can rest in between them. But on Wednesdays, I've got four classes back to back."

"Maybe you should have a standing appointment on Wednesdays after your last class, assuming Walter doesn't have a conflict," said Luke.

"You don't have any classes on Wednesday afternoons this semester, do you, Walter?", Neil asked me.

"No, sir."

"That might not be such a bad idea, Luke. Thanks," said Neil.

"We're big believers in the benefits of reflexology. In addition to making your feet feel better and relieving stress, I think they also help with back pain and improving your overall mood. They sort of work like acupressure," said Brooke.

"I completely agree," replied Neil.

I was so happy that they were all in such harmonious agreement about the wonders of foot massages. When did I get my feet massaged by anyone (other than the lessons I took at the nail salon)? Why did I always have to administer these massages from my knees, in the most humiliating position possible? The same way I administered pedicures. Luke would no doubt be offering that service to Neil soon as well.

I continued to work hard on Neil's feet, trying to balance my deep and growing resentment at being in that situation with my desire to please him sufficiently that he would agree to punish me with something other than the cane. That was what I had been reduced to. I could feel my face burn with shame, and I tried to avoid eye contact with any of them.

After about 45 minutes, I moved on from Neil's feet to Luke's. But not before putting Neil's socks and shoes back on his feet and getting them both fresh beers (and Brooke a cup of tea). I worked on Luke's feet as he and Neil discussed Luke's plan to acquire a business in Indiana that did residential heating and air-conditioning service in addition to plumbing. Luke thought he might be able to leverage the expertise from his new potential acquisition, and start offering those services in his existing plumbing branches in Ohio. He was interested in Neil's opinion. Notably, he never asked mine.