That morning, Brooke had insisted that I thoroughly clean the entire house, including putting clean sheets on the bed. It was June at the time, and my summer break from classes had started, so fortunately, I had time to do more chores around the house (as well as to work on my book). Brooke explained that Luke is very fastidious when it comes to a clean house. When they were married, he expected her to do all of the housework and used to berate her and occasionally spank her (at first, ostensibly as part of their sexual games, but over time she said it really felt more like pure punishment) when the house was not kept up to his high standards. Brooke did a little tidying up that morning as well, but left it for me to do most of the work, including scrubbing the bathrooms and kitchen, and doing all of the laundry. This was the typical MO in our house, but it was certainly the first time I had cleaned in anticipation of her lover coming to spend the night (or multiple nights, as the case may be). Insisting that I clean wearing nothing but a T-shirt and a pair of skimpy nylon panties, Brooke teased me relentlessly me as I worked, periodically swatting my rear end and making fun of my constant erection.

After dinner, I lugged Luke’s suitcases up to the bedroom and, under his and Brooke’s supervision, unpacked them and began hanging up his clothes next to my own in the closet. Because I didn’t have an office job, requiring multiple suits, I didn’t take up a lot of room in the closet, so there was plenty of space for for him to use; I simply pushed my clothes off to the far right so that he’d have easy access to his clothes when he slid open the closet door. He brought with him one suit, multiple pairs of pants, dress shirts, polo shirts, T-shirts and shorts as well as socks, underwear (boxer briefs), a football uniform, workout clothes and (I’m sorry to report), a jockstrap.

Luke watched carefully to make sure that I put his things away in a manner acceptable to him. Everything had to be folded or arranged just so. I dreaded the part when I had to make room for his underwear and socks in my dresser. When I opened up the top drawer of my dresser, he was staring directly at my collection of panties and tights. My guess was that Brooke had already told him about finding my stash and forcing me to throw away almost all of my male underwear. Nevertheless, he acted surprised to discover all of the female undergarments in my dresser.

“What do we have here,” he said, picking up some of my panties and tossing them onto the floor. “Well, prof, I was planning on helping you get more in touch with your feminine side, like any good cuck should be. But it seems like you already are. Let’s see what you’re wearing under that waiter’s uniform.”

I looked up at Brooke and must’ve had an expression on my face that said, “Do I really have to do this?”

Her arms were folded, and she had a fairly serious on her expression on her face as she said, “What are you waiting for? You heard what your master said.”

So now he was my master?! This was unbelievable! It felt like things were spiraling out of control quickly. And yet, at the words “your master,” I felt my already semi erect cock kick into a new gear of arousal in the very panties I so wished to conceal from Luke. And from Brooke with Luke present. It was a totally different dynamic than when Brooke and I were alone together, and I didn’t like it one bit. Or did I? My head was spinning.

“Yes, Miss Brooke.” I stared down at the floor, profoundly ashamed, as I undid my belt and removed my pants. I stood before them absurdly, wearing nothing but my shirt, bow tie and red nylon panties, the tails of my white shirt still partially covering my hard-on.

“Take the shirt off too, Walter,” ordered Brooke.

“Yes, miss.” I removed the tie and shirt and stood before the two of them, both still fully clothed, in nothing but my panties.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding, babe, when you said he was small. I think I was bigger when I was in third grade. And this is with him hard. You must need a fucking magnifying glass when he’s not. Well, have no fear, babe, big Luke is here.” Turning to me, he said, “Put your frillies somewhere else. My underwear and socks will go in this drawer. When is that bedroom in the basement going to be finished? I think we can fast track the plumbing and have the bathroom ready to be finished by the middle of next week?”

Brooke said, “I spoke to Ed, our GC today, and he thought everything could be finished by late July or early August.”

“Good. When I’m here, prof, you’ll l sleep in the basement. You can shower in the bathroom on the first floor. Until the basement bedroom is finished, you can sleep in the guest bedroom downstairs, I guess. When I’m not here, I don’t care where you sleep. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now unpack my other suitcase.”

In Luke’s second suitcase, I was shocked to find, in addition to a toiletries case, two pairs of cowboy boots, a pair of tall black leather boots, a pair of leather ankle boots, three pairs of dress shoes, four pairs of sneakers and a pair of football cleats. I thought to myself, if this is what this guy is bringing along for when he stays here, how many shoes does he have at home?!

Brooke giggled, “Some things never change, I see. She turned to me, “I used to joke that Luke is the male Imelda Marcos. He owns more shoes than any woman I’ve ever known.”

Luke responded, smiling, “Like I always say, it’s not only the clothes that make the man, it’s also the shoes.”

I was to learn that Luke has a huge shoe and foot fetish. But not like mine, not like most men you’ve probably heard about (or maybe yourself). I loved everything about Brooke’s feet and, ever since I was a kid, had been drawn to pretty women’s feet. This fetish was one of the cornerstones of my submissive nature, in fact. By contrast, Luke wasn’t into admiring or worshiping women’s feet or shoes. He was into having his feet and shoes worshipped. A lot. He seriously couldn’t get enough of it, as I was to learn from extensive, firsthand experience.

“Prof, like any good cuck, you’ll be responsible for caring for my footwear. You can order a Johnston & Murphy cedar shoeshine kit on-line. If you order it tonight, you should have it in a couple of days. I expect of all of my boots and dress shoes to be cleaned and polished every time I wear them, and every month whether I wear them or not. You can tape a cleaning schedule inside the closet door with a pencil and mark down every time you clean them to keep track. In fact, I’d like similar weekly cleaning schedules posted inside the door of every bathroom and somewhere in the kitchen that’s not too obvious. You know, like the kind you see in a public restroom. That way Brooke and I can monitor your work. It will keep everyone honest. You can clean my sneakers and cleats with a dry brush or a toothbrush, vinegar, baking soda, leather conditioner and a soft cloth. Shouldn’t you be writing all of this down?”

Stunned as I was, I simply said, “No, sir, I’m paying close attention.”

“You better be, prof. I’m pretty particular about things. Cleanliness is next to godliness.”

I was a committed agnostic, borderline atheist. I also detested cliches. I decided, however, that it might not be prudent to share my views with Luke.

Luke next moved on to our en suite bathroom (it was an old house with only one sink and a small medicine cabinet). Luke instructed me to have most of my toiletries out of the bathroom prior to any of his future visits. This included — most depressingly, for some reason— moving my toothbrush out of the two brush holder next to Brooke’s.

When his bags were fully emptied, and all of his things put away, he said to Brooke, “Alright, babe, it’s time we try out this mattress.”

Brooke smiled and said, “It’s about fucking time,” before kissing him passionately. Luke then hoisted her over his shoulder, smacked her playfully on her bottom and threw her on the bed.

Thus, Luke’s methodical takeover moved on to its next phase.