Chivalry is on Life Support Ch. 28

O'Riordans was fairly empty at 6 PM on that particular Tuesday. The place had a distinctive, unpleasant odor (stale beer and vomit, most likely). All three of the back booths were unoccupied. I ordered a myself a Diet Coke at the bar, and sat down at a booth in the corner that seemed like it would offer the most privacy, as no other tables were very close to it. I sipped my soda and looked nervously towards the entrance, hoping against hope that Paul might have lost his nerve. After all, I was pretty sure that what he was threatening to do was illegal. However, I knew little about the law and figured I'd better hear him out before jumping to any conclusions. I also thought that perhaps I could reason with him about the importance of maintaining academic integrity. Surely, he would understand that by inflating his, Kelly's and Anna's grades, it would devalue the grades of everyone in the college, including their own.

Nevertheless, driving over, it occurred to me that I probably should have brought along a tape recorder to record our conversation. But I wasn't even sure THAT was legal. While sitting there waiting, it dawned on me that I might be able to record him with my iPhone somehow. My knowledge of technology rivaled my knowledge of the law; it was nearly nonexistent. I did a quick Google search, however, and discovered that it indeed was possible to record an external conversation with my iPhone.

Following the directions that I read on Google, I hit record on my Voice Memos app and put my phone back in my pocket. I figured that I could always research the legality of recording conversations without consent later. For the moment, I was chiefly concerned with protecting myself. Meanwhile, I continued to wait.

Paul finally sauntered into the bar at around a quarter past 6. This was deliberate, no doubt. He was demonstrating that he was the one in control; I was adhering to his timetable, not the other way around. He sat down confidently on the seat across from me and put his iPhone on the table. As I had mentioned previously, Paul was tall and slender. He was dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers. I really had not paid close attention to his physique in class, but sitting across from him, I noticed that he was quite muscular beneath his shirt, especially around his shoulders and neck.

"Put your phone on the table next to mine, Rollins."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

For whatever reason, I did as he commanded. Perhaps it was because of the authoritative tone of his voice. Perhaps it was because I was worried that he was in a position to damage my reputation. Perhaps it was simply what Brooke had said to me on numerous occasions-- that I was fundamentally a beta male, unwilling and/or unable to stand up for myself when challenged by an alpha male. Or alpha female, for that matter.

"Power down your phone. I would too, but I think you're going to want to see some of the photos in my library."

I again followed his command. That was to become the defining characteristic of our relationship going forward, as you shall see. So much for recording our conversation.

He said, "What are you drinking, Rollins?"

"A Diet Coke."

"Get me a pint of the IPA they have on top. You probably should get yourself something stronger than a soda. I have a feeling you're gonna need it."

"Aren't you under age? I could get in trouble for buying you a beer."

"I'll be 21 in a few months. I drink here all the time and know most of the bartenders. I live just down the road. You don't need to worry about getting into trouble. Now, bring me my beer."

After I returned the table with his IPA and my refilled Coke, he said, "You're sticking with soda, I see. Suit yourself. How much time do you have? I know you have other masters to serve."

"Other what? What are you talking about?"

"I asked you a question. How much time do you have?", Paul repeated, firmly.

"I'm expected home by 7:30."

"Why?"

"I'm cooking my wife dinner tonight."

"You mean Brooke. That's her name, right?"

"Yes."

"I bet you cook dinner more than occasionally. And what about Luke? Are you cooking dinner for him as well? Don't lie to me. I'm eventually going to find out the truth, and you will seriously regret it if I ever find out you're lying to me."

"Yes, I'm cooking dinner for both of them."

"I figured. Alright, I wanted to know how much time we have. We have quite a bit to cover in a limited amount of time. By 'other masters,' I mean that, effective immediately, you have a new master to serve. Well, two actually. I told you on the first day of class that I'm a dominant guy. Kelly knew that when she convinced me to take your class. That was after she and Jake saw you cleaning Luke's truck wearing a pink speedo. Hearing about that, and about you teaching a class on male masochism, I was naturally intrigued. Anna and I get off on dominating and humiliating betas like you. We live together in a condo just a couple of miles away from here. You'll get to know it well. Kelly and Jake are our good friends. They haven't owned slaves like Anna and I have, but they enjoy a little domination, too, now and again. It's a bit more recreational for them, whereas Anna and I are pretty serious about it."

"Look, Mr. Betz, I don't know what misconception you're operating under that makes you think I'm going to change your grades because you tell me to, or serve as your slave or something, just because I am teaching a class on male masochism. But I..."

"Shut the fuck up, Rollins. I'm not operating under any misconception whatsoever. It's obvious that you're submissive to your wife and Luke. A submissive cuckold. Luke is her ex-husband, right?"

"Yes. How did you know that?"

"Rumors get around. I guess she must have missed him. Looking at the two of you, it's not hard to understand why. Anyone who washes his wife lover's truck dressed the way you were, or polishes his wife's lover's boots in public dressed the way you were, is obviously more than just a run of the mill cuckold. You're obviously some kind of serious masochist. I was sincere when I said that I was mistaken for questioning your credentials to teach the class. You were even polishing Neil Lawson's boots, for fuck's sake. That's seriously kinky! What's that all about? Are you submissive to him as well? Your fellow professor?"

"Of course not. We were at a Ren fair! I was just playing a part. I drew the short straw and had to be the page. That's all it was, nothing more."

Paul laughed, dismissively. "Just like you simply lost a bet, which is why you were washing Luke's truck dressed in a pink speedo, right? 'Nothing to see here folks.' Get real, Rollins. No one's going to be stupid enough to buy that bullshit. Especially knowing the kind of stuff you're teaching. And all of the feminine shit you wear to class. Kelly said you didn't used to dress that way before you got married. When photos start mysteriously appearing on social media and in people's inboxes

around campus, it's basically just going to confirm everybody's suspicions about you. But I'm sure people will be surprised by the extent of it. Of your submission, I mean. Why don't you take a look at some of the candid shots of you I have on my phone. Don't worry, I keep them in a password protected secret photo vault." He smirked at me.

After punching in a code, he handed me his phone and directed me to scroll through the pictures with my finger. There were at least a dozen shots, each more humiliating and high resolution than the one before it. A crystal clear shot of me kneeling before Neil in my white tights and page boy haircut, buffing his boots. The same scene from two additional angles, one in which Neil's face was plainly visible, a self satisfied smile on his face. Another one showed him kissing Laura as I worked. Clear individual shots of me cleaning and buffing the shoes of Paul, Anna, Kelly and Jake. Another of me cleaning Luke's boots (taken later, obviously with the phone camera's zoom lens, as it was a little pixelated). Shots of me in the pillory, both from the front and back. The rear shot showed my tights-clad ass fully exposed, and the sign inviting people to punish me with the tawse (also evident). Another shot of me in the jousting stadium, standing, with my erection tenting out my tights; I was trying to turn away, but both my face and erection were clearly visible. Much to my surprise, there were also a few shots of me in the pink speedo cleaning Luke's truck. One was of me on my knees, scrubbing a hubcap with a toothbrush. There was another shot of me from behind, scrubbing the fender with a sponge, and a third one of me staring directly at the camera, my belly fat protruding from beneath the cuckold horns T-shirt and my erection protruding from beneath the pink spandex. These must've been taken by Kelly's boyfriend, Jake, because I had really been focusing most of my attention on her. I suppose that stumbling upon me that day in such a compromising position was just too remarkable to let go by undocumented. Still, I had no idea when he could've possibly taken them. The same was true of the photos from the Ren fair. I was so humiliated on both of these occasions that I must not have been very observant, I suppose. Now, however, seeing these pictures for the first time in the bar, I was absolutely gobsmacked.

"Oh, god," I groaned.

"I told you these iPhone cameras have gotten really good. Now let me show you some of the videos we took."

This was unbelievable. More of the same. Several short videos of me, both from the day I cleaned the truck and at the Ren fair. Vigorously buffing boots, walking submissively behind Luke, Brooke, Neil, and Laura, carrying the heavy bag. Video with clear audio of me addressing Kelly and Anna as "my lady" and Paul as "my lord." Jake, once again, must have been responsible for most the filming and picture taking, as I focused the least on him. I was flabbergasted.

"But you can't post these on social media or show them to anyone. That's illegal."

"I hate to break it to you, professor, but I'm a real wizard when it comes to technology. I get the feeling you might not be, am I right? My older brother is a computer scientist, and a first rate hacker. I usually don't need any help, but when I do, he's always happy to provide some expert advice. Such as in how to flawlessly cover my tracks when I post something or send something. No one would ever know the source, I can promise you that. I wonder how Professor Bevins would feel about his newly tenured professor shining the boots of another one of his professors? Would be a great lead story for the campus newspaper, wouldn't it? Notice that I'm using the conditional tense here. Whether anybody sees these or not is entirely up to you."

"What is it you want from me in exchange for not showing them to anyone?"

"Are you sure you don't want that drink now, Rollins? I'll even buy it for you, just this one time."

"I'll have a Jamison's, on the rocks, please. Thank you."

"Try, 'Thank you, sir.'"

"Thank you, sir."

"That's more like it." I felt my heart beating rapidly and my face sweating.

Paul had me. When I had entered the bar, I believed I had a couple of different lines of defense. He had efficiently circumvented or demolished them. I tried think of a medieval battle -- perhaps the Battle of Hastings -- that was analogous, but what really came to mind was the ineffectiveness of the Maginot Line in protecting France against Hitler's army. Paul easily outflanked me, and his occupation was about to begin.

When he got back to the table and handed me the drink, he said, "I got you a double."

"Thank you, sir."

"So, we've only got about an hour left and have a lot to cover. How old are you?"

"I'm 39."

"Don't forget the 'sir' next time. That's good. You're almost twice as old as I am. You're old enough to be my father. Anna and I have always wanted to dominate an older guy like you. How old is Brooke and Luke?"

"Brooke is 28. Luke is 27, I think. Sir."

"Now, I need you to tell me about your schedule, in great detail. I need to know about your work schedule and your home schedule. I need to fully understand your obligations, your time commitments, so that we can work around them. I don't intend to be unreasonable here, Rollins. I know you have a job, obviously. And, like I said, I know you have other masters to serve. Given that you're married to one of them, I recognize they will be your primary obligation."

That was something at least, I thought. At the same time, I must confess that when Paul uttered the words "dominate an older guy like you," my cock swelled instantly in its prison. Instantly and painfully.

Paul took careful notes about my work schedule, my routine at home and at Luke's house, and other obligations such as cheerleading at Luke's football games and even the status of and deadlines regarding the publication of my next book. He was amused when I shared more details about the subject matter.

"Anna and I are going to help you with your research. You won't be a submissive cuckold with us, technically. But it will be a very similar dynamic. We should get a percentage of your royalties." He laughed. "Not that I imagine it will make any best seller lists."

Why was everybody so obsessed with helping me do first-hand research, I wondered. So unnecessary.

Once he got a thorough download on my time commitments, he said, "I will give this further thought, but based on what you told me, you should have time to clean our condo and do our laundry once a week. You should plan on about two hours. You should also plan on preparing and serving us dinner once a month. Those evenings will require at least a four hour commitment. You'll have to figure out a way to make that work. I realize some things will be out of your control, and that you might have to occasionally cancel. But then I will expect you to make it up to me the following month. I will also require you to provide sporadic services for me, and for Anna, when things come up. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you have any sabbaticals planned?"

"Yes, sir. I'm off the next Fall semester, actually. I thought I could use the time to finish my book, if necessary."

"Well, you should have lots more time to devote to Anna and me when you're on sabbatical. I will expect at least twice the amount of time as this semester. I strongly suggest you finish your book in the spring, or over the summer at the latest."

"Yes, sir. I will try."

"Do Luke and Brooke keep you caged all the time?"

"How did you know about that? Sir."

"Depending upon what you wear to class, it's pretty obvious sometimes."

"Oh, I see...sir." How humiliating! If it was obvious to him, then to whom else? Hopefully, it was obvious only because he was looking there for something...

"So, answer my question. Are you caged all of the time?"

"Not all of the time, sir. As you could tell from the Ren fair." I looked down, ashamed, and took a big swig of my drink. "But, most of the time, yes."

"Too bad. Anna and I like to control the cocks of our betas. At least the ones with cocks. I'll have to give some thought to what can be done about that. Who is your keyholder?"

"Luke, mainly. But also Brooke. How many betas do you have, sir?"

"Presently, we have three slaves in our stable, one cis male, one cis female and one transgender biological male who is starting hormone therapy and will be transitioning. You will be our fourth. Tell me more about Luke. How old is he? What does he do for a living? What are his interests? What's he like? I want to know everything about him."

I was simply stunned by what Paul had just told me. This twenty year-old college kid and his girlfriend (presumably the same age, if not younger) had already accumulated a stable of submissives. Of different genders, no less. I was merely to augment their collection. I was certainly curious about the others, however. That curiosity would be satisfied before too long.

I went on to tell him everything he wanted to know about Luke and Brooke, and their relationship with one another. He was clearly intrigued by the fact that Brooke was so dominant with me, and yet so submissive with Luke. However, he was also intrigued by the terms of their agreement with one another, and took note that the appeal of it to Brooke was that she had an escape hatch she could use if she ever chose to do so.

Paul was quite interested to learn that Luke owned a large house with an enormous pool.

"Is he a swimmer?"

"I've only seen him in the pool a couple of times, because he only first... started staying at our house early last summer. I think he plans for us to spend a lot more time at his house next summer. He ikes to swim, but is not a swimmer per se. As I explained, his sports are football and weightlifting, sir."

"Still, with a pool that big he must like to swim a lot. I'm on the college swim team. It's probably an area where I can connect with him. Besides, I would love to swim in his pool."

Oh great, I thought to myself. Someone else to bond with Luke over sports and swimming. Maybe Luke, Neil and Paul could form their own little swim team and I could be their pool boy. When not serving cocktails poolside to Brooke, Laura and Anna. In retrospect, I can't really say be careful what you wish for, in this instance -- as I wouldn't describe these thoughts as wishes, exactly -- but I guess I can say be careful what you joke about, or what you imagine. Because my thoughts weren't far off from what eventually transpired.

"How do you dress at home?", he asked next. When I hesitated in responding, he said, "Look, like I said before, I'm eventually going to find out the truth. Likely from Luke or Brooke directly. And there will be holy hell to pay if I find out you were anything short of 100% truthful with me. A hundred percent, which means not holding back anything either. You will learn that I'm highly detailed oriented, and I don't forget shit. So watch yourself, Rollins. I'll ask you again. How are you required to dress at home?"

"Sometimes I'm allowed to wear shorts or jeans, but usually yoga pants. The tight, spandex kind. Always with panties underneath or tights with the jeans. Most of the time at home, I just wear tights or panties. Sometimes thigh high stockings. Usually with a T-shirt, or no shirt during the summer."

"Are you fully shaved? I notice you have no hair on your arms."

"Yes, sir. Fully."

"Waxing or depilatory cream?"

"Waxing, sir. A full body wax every month."

"Good. It looks, and smells, better than the cream. Bras?"

"No, sir."

"Maid uniforms?"

"No, but.."

"But what?"

"But there has been talk of me wearing them once I lose more weight."

"I've noticed that you've lost quite a bit of weight since the semester started. They have you on a diet?"

"Yes, sir." This led to a whole new line of interrogation regarding the specifics of my diet, the weigh-ins, and Luke's punishment and reward system. It also led to a detailed account of my exercise regimen with Luke.

"So, you have workout tights, punishment tights, and just tights to wear around the house. Is that right?"

"Yes, sir."

"It sounds like a lot of tights. Different colors, I imagine?"

"Yes, sir. A lot of them. Different colors and patterns. Brooke picks them out and orders them online, along with my panties."

"How does Luke discipline you?"

"Usually, corporal punishment, sir."

"How? What implements?"

"It depends on his mood, sir. Sometimes a strap or a riding crop. Sometimes his belt, or his bare hand."

"He doesn't cane you?"

"Yes, sir. Sometimes he does. When he's particularly angry."

"What did I say about not holding details back? Is there anything else you're holding back in terms of punishment?"