Love in Cathedral Heights-PART TWO
Gerry lay rigid, feeling the delicious tingle
of the lubed dental floss that Miss Helen was
rubbing around his straining, drooling erection.
First she'd stick right below the pulsing now
violet cockhead, and then pull up and down the
shaft.
Miss Helen was a beautiful Southern redhead,
and as she pulled the string back and forth round
the shaft, her breasts jiggled in the snug
tank-top...At forty-seven Helen's tits might not
ignore gravity, but they winked at it a
little...Gerald just couldn't take his eyes off
them. When the floss became dry, Miss Helen would
re-immerse it in the lotion...
It'd been an hour of this, puncutated by
brief, no release handjobs..."Miss Helen, Please
I don't want to complain the way I did about the
feather torture..." "What did that get you,
Gerald?" Miss Helen dragged the floss further
downt he shaft, pullling it back up towards the
purple mushroom..."Answer me!"
"You locked me back up for two weeks...the
floss is okay...Just...I'm soo...uh..." his dick
felt like a missile ready to go off. The light
touch of the greasy floss, further inflamed by
his excellent view of Helen's balooning cleavage
straining against the tank-top as she bent over
to pulll the string just a little more.
When he'd met Miss Helen Gerry was a confused
and somewhat pudgy trust-fund baby,whose ambition
was to drum for Metallica. His adolescence had
been a myriad of prep school expulsions, wrecked
Mazdas, pregnant girlfriends, and methadone
maintenance.
Hell he'd only gotten into Georgetown because
Uncle Will was a generous alumnus; and had moved
to Miss Helen's because he'd been kicked out of a
frat for hazing too hard..."Only A I ever got was
when I cheated on the exam..."was one of his old
yearbook quotes,..."Scary Gerry" was ashamed of
nothing except his kinky fantasies...Ooh, the
string is driving me MAD!
Finally she tossed the strand into a
wastebasket and began casually stroking the
underside of his cock with her crimson tipped
fingers. "There is a large purple vein,
Gerald...IF you took up drug addiction again this
would be the place to inject...Ooh your juices
are soaking my finger...Lick it off, please."
Gerry sucked the precum off his landlady's
long fingernail as if it were a dildo, and
withdrawing her finger, Helen opened the end
table drawer and tok out some Scotch tape. "Do
you like what I do to your wee-wee Gerald?"?
Helen wrapped a bit of tape around Gerry's
foreskin...."Yes ma'am...The teasing is so heavy
sometimes."
"It's what you begged for, remember?" Helen
wrapped more tape around the shaft gradually
working her way down the frenum. "You begged to
for it, remember? Dumped your little sorority
girlfriend, quit running with your friends for
the TEEASE, Gerald..."
At first she'd teased the excited nineteen
year old for only short periods, his hands bound
behind...she always let him cum within an hour or
two sometimes twice if he brought helped to clean
the house,..then one night, no cumming.
"What's wrong?" Gerry had asked. "There are
rewards and punishments, Gerald..." The house
was to be spotless,the ponytail and beard would
be replaced with a crewcut and clean shave; 500
daily chin ups,push-ups and situps for Gerry; a
mile a day of running with Miss Helen shouting
encouragement from her car window; turning over
his allowance and credit cards for her to manage;
and STUDYING.
Every test or quiz score over 95 would be
rewarded by long, heavy teasing and then orgasm;
85-80 resulted in long,LONG teases ending with
horrible ice dropped on his swelling scrotum;no
release..."Why oh why can't you do better
academically, Gerald? Don't scream darling, the
ice isn't that bad" and below a score of 79 there
was no teasing; just fifty with the strap and two
nights in the closet...with all this effort there
was no time for parties anymore.
One day "Gerald Morin" was on the dean's
list! And the tennis team? His former friends
were astonished...Not only did he look great and
was summa cum laude...but for the first time
since his twelfth year, "Scary Gerry" was
addicted to nothing--no tobacco, booze or drugs,
and needed no methadone or support groups. All he
was addicted to were his landlady's wandering,
lubricated fingers--and that was a secret.
College and then law school professors, and
finally employers said the same thing "That boy
is DRIVEN!" The last time, this compliment came
from a firm partner, as the brilliant young
associate limped by, butt swelling, and confined
erection overloaded, because the firms aging
trademark expert had lower standards for a
well-written brief than Miss Helen did...
But he'd endured it, and now..."Is the tape
irritating you, Gerald?" Helen smiled, Gerry
could see her nipples poking through the tank
top..."Its all right sweetie..I'm sorry about my
temper over the feather incident..." Mollified,
the trusting prisoner complained a little. "Well,
the tape is really sticky and my dick is so
hard." It had been Gerry's suggestion, fourteen
years ago, that he purchase a good chastity belt,
selling his Harley-Davidson to order several
different European models,with Helen holding
keys, of course...
"Oh, sweetie...I'll take the tape off...it'll
be all better, my precious boy." Then one night
was it she or him? who proposed,good grades or
not, a month of total chastity belted celibacy,
with thirty evenings of frustrating no-release
milkings..." Thank you Miss Helen for removing
the tape...YEAAGH! YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO RIP IT
OFF?" Crying now, Gerry's cock was scalding from
the quick er, removal of the tape...Helen was
laughing..."It's not (Sob!) funny! IT HURTS!"
Helen instantly quit laughing and looked quite
annoyed. Tossing the crumpled tape into the
trash, she arched her back, breasts rising
majestically. "You seem to complain at the end of
every tease-day now..first whining over the
feather, and now the tape...I think I'll quit,
you obviously don't WANT to orgasm..." No, NO.
"Please, Miss Helen" Gerry wailed. "I can't take
it...it's been over a hundred, hundred and five
days now...I won't complain!"
Though he used to get milkings daily, with
orgasms each day, eventually Miss Helen who
needed her hands to have energy for her work as a
stylist, had limited the sessions to twice a
month, on alternate Sundays...
This happened after Gerry had made partner,
and was habitually a hard worker.."Gerald, the
whippings will remain if you falter in work or
housework, or even if your Saturday rugby team
loses too many games, but the rewards will be
fewer, a good bloodhound needs nothing but the
joy of the hunt."with Gerry, having discarded the
chastity belt to wear a cock piercing of two
rings, one at the tip and the other at the
scrotum, which locked the penis in a
non-masturbatable arc.
Gerry could get aroused playing with it, but
no cumming...And any excuse on these play days
would cause Miss Helen to re-lock the poor boy
back up for another frustrating two weeks...it
had been well over three months now...couldn't he
mollify her somehow? "Please Miss Helen (sniff) I
won't complain anymore. Please don't stop
now..."his voice broke, watching her get up off
the bed and walk out the door. "I'll consider it,
Gerald...I'm going to get some tea now."
*************************************************
It was nearly four o'clock, Miss Helen had
taken about two hours to have her tea. Gerry was
attempting to waggle his penis with his torso,
hoping vainly that he could make it squirt...but
no go! It might have been easier if he didn't
have the desires of a compulsive masturbator, and
the semen was certainly built up...Water had been
running in the bathroom...Would she come back?
About seven years ago, he'd decided to leave
Helen for a while; sick of the early bedtimes,
teetotaling, no partying and no "fun" He wanted
to date a few girls his age, dammit! After about
six weeks in a cocaine drenched love-triangle
with a nineteen year old waitress and a gorgeous
blond paralegal, both of whom had dumped him for
his strange desires...he'd called Helen,crying
from a detox ward..."Coming home,
Gerald?"Forgiveness came readily, but he'd not
squirted for an entire summer! Now, thinking
about it, he'd been such a fool, though the life
here could be tough. Where is she right now?
"Well, how have you enjoyed your respite?"
Helen wandered back in. She had taken a long
bath, changed her tank top to one of her little
t-shirts that accentuated the boobs and exposed
the midriff, and some white short-shorts..."I
couldn't tell whether you wanted me to quit or
not."Giving him a mischevious smile, Helen sat
down on the bed and placed a manicured forefinger
on the tip of his cock. "You seem so emotional."
"I'm calm now,Miss Helen, really I am...please
let me cum today!"
"Whine, Whine...I think you need to get out
of this bed..."Gerry panicked inside, wondering
if he would be locked for another fifteen days,
and relegated to more housework. Helen undid his
hands and feet, and pulling out some handcuffs
from the drawer. Motioning the naked attorney to
stand up and turn, she cuffed his hands behind
his back, and led him out of the bedroom by the
head of his burgeoning penis.
Following her, Gerry's arms and legs felt
quite stiff, as befitted someone who had been in
four-point restraints since the early morning.As
they cme into her old fashioned "sitting room" he
noticed the grandfather clock. Four thirty! No
wonder he could barely move, he'd been in bondage
for hours...
They sat on the familiar couch where Helen had
given him so many over the arm-rest bare bottom
razor stroppings...The couch where he was allowed
to watch one football game a year-the
Superbowl.He had to earn it, though-- This year
he'd viewed the game wearing a frilly oversized
pink dress with a little-girl bow in the
back,something out of the 1920's...complete with
big flowery hat, white socks and Mary Janes and
white parasol-since his hands were cuffed it was
propped next to him for the duration of the game.
He'd worn no panties since his butt,
blistered from a pre-game stropping, housed a
cucumber the size of a Louisville Slugger, it
seemed. "I got it at the Farmer's Market,
Gerald...your regular dildo is getting chipped."
The Superbowl fine til she'd blindfolded
Gerry for the last 10 minutes of the game..."I
polished all the siverware in this dress so you'd
let me see the whole game, Miss Helen!" Tears
coming down from the kerchief..."Don't whine,
Gerald, this is to test your listening
skills...the announcer will tell you how things
are going, he isn't as irritating as Howard
Cosell."
Now, she looked over at him. "I think you
should get off the couch, Gerald...Kneel on the
hassock right next to it...It'll help you
stretch." She smiled mischeviously.
He obeyed, climbing on the hassock on his
knees. Immediately, Miss Helen reached over and
began stroking his cock. She was so close that
she could do this without having to lean over. It
was quite comfortable for her..."Kneel up
straight, dear as we did at the eight a.m. Mass."
Gerry straightened his naked body. This was even
harder than the bed--he had to balance his
handcuffed form, knees pressured, staying ramrod
straight while Miss Helen tickled his throbbing
member with her nail tips...what if he fell over?
The phone rang. Helen reached for the phone
next to the couch with her left hand, the right
still making poor Gerry crazy. "Hello, oh hi
Miguel..."Her tongue was between her lips,
arousing her straight soldier further. Miguel?
Not the firm's most arrogant mailboy who he had
dispatched to change the oil and wash Helen's
hot-pink Austin Healy 500, a present from Gerry
last spring, Gerry had ordered Miguel to do these
chores or be fired, as the little creep had used
the firm's courier service to pay a late bill.
Let him know whose in charge, you know?
That was two months ago, Miguel'd been over
since then to rake leaves...But I was out of
town..."Motley Crue? I love them!" Helen giggled,
leaning into the phone. But I was whipped for
buying their CD, Gerry thought. "Try a little
Brahms, Gerald."she'd said. But now, "God, I'd
love to go...Miguel, you're so sweet"She squealed
like a schoolgirl.
She reached a long nail under Gerry's scrotum
and began toying with his full balls. Propping
the phone on one shoulder Helen took her o ther
hand and began manipulating the shaft, shooting
Gerry a warning look as his shoulders seemed to
be losing posture. His butt was falling towards
the backs of his legs as well. "Mr. Morin? He
can't stay out that late, he's in bed by eight."
Gerry's face burned. Does she have to tell the
world I have the bedtime of a nine-year old?
Helen was massaging faster as the conversation
grew hotter "Do you think a lot about me,
Miguel...you can tell me...I'm your sweetheart!"
She pumped the shaft, and Gerry felt a wonderful,
surging in his granite-hard cock as he hadn't
felt in a hundred five days...oh, this is worth
it all, I love her...His hips began shaking
violently, and he closed his eyes...now,
now...NOW...yes, please...Gerry dropped his head
to his chest, and waited for the blast.
Suddenly Helen dropped his genitals as if
they were a hot potato...she swung her legs over
into a lying position. She lit a Marlboro, and
smiled at his face.."Why should I quit smoking if
you won't?"he asked years before."Adults can
smoke, Gerald, but you'll always be a sniveling
schoolboy."was the answer.
Now she puffed away, talking kittenishly into
the phone "Oh Miguel, of course I enjoyed
Thursday. You told Mr. Morin you were sick? I
won't tell...the picnic was nice, and I didn't
mind paying for the room at that little inn...Mr.
Morin's platinum card can be very generous."
Helen watched Gerry, crushed at the sudden
cease of the near-orgasmic experience, about to
slump on the hassock. She put her hand over the
phone. " Keep kneeling with good posture, that's
right straighten up or you won't cum til Labor
Day...remember, Gerald, the Fourth of July isn't
even here yet." She stopped her hiss to chuckle
at the tear rolling down the now straightened
Gerald's cheek. She went back to her
conversation.
Gerry was in bad shape. His penis was in pain
from suddenly not squirting, and still quite
engorged, he had a serious need to pee, his legs
were cramping from kneeling nearly forty minutes,
and there was the unbelievable conversation...
"No, Mr. Morin's never told me I performed
fellatio well, Miguel, it's not a part of our
relationship." She sucked the little bastard's
cock? "He's very rigid, Mr. Morin is...Sweetie,
call me tomorrow and we'll plan for the concert.
We can spend the night at the little Inn again.
Goodbye."
