That night I watched Luke penetrate Brooke anally, vaginally and orally — what she later described as “the triple threat” posed by his enormous cock (speaking very much like someone who enjoys being threatened, I might add). But it wasn’t only his cock that he used to penetrate her, it was also his fingers and toes.

After he threw her onto the bed, Luke said to me, “Prof, your wife and me shouldn’t be the only ones to get some cardiovascular exercise tonight, especially when you’re the one that needs it most. Stand at the end of the bed and run in place.”

Resisting the impulse to correct his grammar (“wife and I”), which I didn’t think would be particularly well received, I simply asked, “Now?”

Luke replied, “No, next month. Of course, now. Get your lazy, fat ass moving!”

Brooke giggled. Feeling ridiculous, I started running in my panties as the two of them undressed.

“Raise your legs higher, up to your waist. If I wasn’t busy at the moment, I’d give you some motivation with my belt.”

“I’m trying, sir.”

Positioned on top of Brooke — I won’t say lying on her, because Luke was in a state of perpetual, frenzied motion whenever he was in the act of intercourse — he inserted himself in her vagina, and stating pounding her. He pushed her right leg up far back behind her head and placed his large left hand around her throat. I was worried that he was choking her, but she definitely sounded more aroused than distressed. As she started moaning louder he slapped her face four times, alternating cheeks, with his right hand. The slaps weren’t hard exactly, but they weren’t soft either. I’m sure they hurt, but I suspected they hurt my ego more than they did her face. Though I was to witness many similar scenes of Brooke being degraded by Luke in the months and years to come, I never really got used to them. What sort of knight would allow the lady he cherishes to be so mistreated? What kind of husband could be so impotent as to obey the commands of the man who was simultaneously violating his wife in such a humiliating fashion? Only a truly pathetic and contemptible one, that’s who. Me. Professor Walter Rollins. Cuckold.

I felt completely ridiculous running in place with my cock and balls bouncing around in my panties. I was erect at first, but as I grew increasingly fatigued, I grew increasingly limp. Eventually, I got so winded that I had to kneel down on the floor to catch my breath.

This did not escape Luke’s attention. “You’re tired already? You’ve been running for what, like three minutes? That’s sad, prof. Go in the bathroom and get yourself some water and then get back out here. Hurry up!“

“Yes, sir. Thank you sir,” I said, panting heavily.

When I returned to the bedroom, still struggling to breathe, Luke said, “Speaking of my belt, take it out of my pants and toss it to me.” I did as he commanded, fearful, of course, that he would strike Brooke with it.

Instead, he said to me, “Now get down on the floor and give me 50 situps.“ I had managed to catch my breath somewhat, but I’d always been terrible at sit-ups push-ups, or pretty much any other kind of exercise one could think of.

Meanwhile, Luke wrapped his belt around Brooke’s neck and then pulled her by it off the bed and onto her knees on the hardwood floor. He stood directly in front of her with his huge, erect cock in her face, and then yanked the belt, drawing her face up to his ball sack. As if this was something they had done countless times before — and, during their two years of marriage, perhaps they had — Brooke began first licking and then sucking on his balls before he gestured for her to start sucking on his cock. She could only fit about a third of it into her mouth before she started to gag. He, nevertheless, aggressively thrust his cock in and out her mouth — or to be more precise, he guided her head back and forth by grabbing a fistful of her long brown hair. I saw a long thread of her saliva hang down from his cock. Repulsed as I was, my cock stiffened again even as my stomach muscles started to burn.

Without warning, Luke abruptly pulled out of her mouth, lifted her up and turned her round so that she was then leaning against the side of the bed, her feet on the floor. He then spit on her anus as lubrication before entering her anally, while pulling her head back with the belt. With his other hand, he began sharply smacking her ass until it turned bright shade of red. I could see the pain of the smacks register on her face, but it was an expression of agonized ecstasy that dominated her expression. Soon the unmistakable sounds of Brooke climaxing filled the room, but they were more intense sounds that I had ever heard her utter before. By that point, I could barely raise my back off the ground.

Luke looked over at me and said, “Sure beats what they show on TV at the gym, doesn’t it, prof?”, he laughed. “Not that you have the slightest fucking idea of what I’m talking about.”

When Brooke recovered somewhat, Luke, indefatigable, took her again from behind, but this time vaginally. His leather belt was still wrapped around her lovely neck like a collar.

Remembering my presence, Luke said, “Bring me a glass of Gentlemen Jack and bring us both a glass of water.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, lifting myself off the floor and trying to turn my body away to hide my erection. In retrospect, as I reflect back on the frequency and intensity of the exposure and humiliation I subsequently suffered, this moment of self consciousness strikes me as an almost laughable moment of innocence. I wasn’t laughing at the time, however.

When I returned with a serving tray, I saw Luke continuing his assault, but now with both of his hands inserted into Brooke’s mouth, each on opposite sides, pulling her jaws open and apart. I wondered to myself what purpose such an action could possibly serve. It’s not as if holding her mouth open in this way was resulting in any direct source of sexual pleasure for him. It was purely a raw display of power and control. But moments later, when he grunted and ejaculated all over her ass and back, I realized that the power and degradation was the whole point for Luke.

It got him off. It got her off. Soon, I would fall in line.

That night was the first one that Brooke and I did not sleep in the same bed together since we were married: it was to be far from the last. The thought of them sleeping in each other’s arms on the soiled sheets was somehow particularly distressing to me. But what sleeping they actually did is questionable.

After I left the them in the bedroom, I put on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and went down to my desk in the living room to work on my book. I thought that perhaps I could use the humiliation I had just experienced as inspiration for finishing the chapter I had been struggling with on Sir William Hamilton, the publicly cuckolded husband of Emma Hamilton in her long affair with Lord Nelson, the famous British naval hero. Sir William was about twice the age of Emma, who was known for her great beauty. After she began her affair with Lord Nelson, the three of them co habited together in Surrey until Sir William’s death in 1803. Emma even gave birth to two of Nelson’s illegitimate daughters during this time. Over the long affair, Sir William was frequently mocked by caricaturists in the newspapers as the cuckolded husband. This scandalous relationship was presented to the public as an unconventional “three-way friendship.”

I, of course, had to wonder if there was more to the real story of what went on behind the closed doors of their home in the Merton neighborhood of Surrey. Was Sir William admitted into the bedchambers of the two lovers? Was her permitted to watch them have sex together, and, if so, did he enjoy it? Perhaps there was still more to it: perhaps he waited on the two young lovers (Emma was 28 and Lord Nelson was 35 when their affair began, while Sir William was 62) hand and foot, perhaps dressed in feminine undergarments, perhaps even dressed as a maid? Perhaps William polished the admiral’s boots as he sat on the couch kissing his young wife. Before you judge me for having an overactive imagination, I hope you can at least appreciate why that might be the case.

Around midnight, I went to the guest bedroom to go to sleep. It was quiet upstairs at the time, but at about 2 AM, I was awoken by the sound of the bedsprings violently shaking in the bedroom upstairs – my and Brooke’s bedroom before today. What had it become? My part time bedroom? I tiptoed halfway up the stairs to listen.

“Oh, gawd, Luke. Please.”

SMACK

“Please, what?”

“Please, I’m begging you.”

SMACK

“Please, who?”

SMACK

“Please, sir. Please fill me up with your beautiful cock, sir. I’m begging you.”

SMACK

“Are you and your cuck my slaves?”

“Yes, sir. We are your absolute slaves. I promise you! Now, please sir, I beg you. Fill me up again.”

SMACK

“Well, okay, babe. Since you promise.”

I then heard Brooke cry out, “Oh, yes! Thank you, sir.”

I found a pair of noise canceling headphones I used for flying, put them on and crawled back into bed. I didn’t sleep a wink.