Eric: Let the Healing Begin
It was to be a long cold night, with flashes of searing anger. When Gina picked Eric up at the company loading dock, all she said was "Get in." She said nothing at all driving him home.
Eric was driven to talk, to explain, and to lie. He denied that he had sexually harassed his secretary, claimed the whole thing was a misunderstanding, and even denied he had been fired. These were not quite lies, more misconstructions. He'd only been suspended pending discharge. He skipped the part about the cunt diving, which was left an unspecified misunderstanding. After all, how could obliging the girl's request to lick her pussy be sexual harassment? Everything would be ok.
Gina responded with wordless sidelong smirks, and nothing more. When Eric's excuses petered out, icy silence set in. The second thing Gina said was as they enter Eric's condo. "You stink. Shower."
When Eric returned wrapped in towel, he attempted a joke to lighten the mood. "Bastard!" Gina screamed and slapped Eric across the cheek. Until that afternoon, a woman had never struck Eric. He was shocked. Even from the diminutive Gina, it hurt. Eric expected tears next, but Gina laughed at him instead. She tore his towel away. Eric was erect again. Gina scornfully mocked Eric's cock, "What a joke."
Then Gina let lose an irate tirade that ended with her laying down the terms of Eric's house arrest. He was not to touch her, he would sleep on the couch, he was not to leave the condo (the company security guards had taken all of his keys), he was to listen, do exactly as he was told, speak only when spoken to, and no sex, in particular no masturbation.
"No sex, none, you horny cunt eating sicko. What an embarrassment. I had to listen to a lecture from that nauseating lawyer, what's her name, Claudia, telling me that poor Eric must be ill. He must have had an emotional breakdown; we have to help him; he needs medical attention; he needs to heal. Boohoo. What a load of crap. You're just a filthy pervert. I'm going to cure you all right. No sex, no whacking off, none, not even cunt licking for you. You sure as hell will heel when I'm done with you."
Eric took Gina's harangue in naked silence as his erection disappeared. By the time she was done the last thing Eric wanted was sex. It wasn't until Gina walked out to have drinks with a friend that Eric realized he couldn't think about anything but sex. Eric stared at the walls and waited. He couldn't leave without locking himself out (Gina had taken the spare keys), TV, music, reading, internet, friends on the phone (no time for friends since Gina), not even sports talk radio interested Eric in the least. It was all stupid and boring. All Eric wanted was to eat pussy.
Eric was asleep on the couch when Gina returned in the middle of the night with a tipsy girlfriend. The girl kicked Eric waking him from a dark, erotic dream. "That's the bastard?" Eric awoke staring up the hem of a polyester miniskirt wrapped tightly high on shapely thighs. The Gina's girl was done in Goth, black on black—on skin so white, it seemed a vampire had drained it. Her eyes were black smudges, her lipstick a black stain. Still, she was hot in freaky, whorish rebel sort of way, a goddess of gloom.
She slurred, "Get up and get me a drink, asshole." Eric stood to obey, still half asleep. The drunken stranger looked lustfully down at the raging erection poking against Eric's boxer shorts and laughed. "He's cute." She pulled on the elastic band of Eric's underwear and looked inside, "That's cute too."
Gina, bottle in hand, took the girl's hand and said, "Leave him be, he doesn't get any. He's been a bad, bad boy. He is on the cure. Eric, not word out of you and don't touch that thing. Lie down. Good dog."
"Sweet." Gina's rebel slut showed Eric her ass as she sauntered off to the bedroom with Gina and a bottle of fun. Eric returned to his disturbing sex dreams.
When morning's light heated, Gina came out of the bedroom with an evil mood. The girl was gone. Had that been a dream? It seemed real, but it fit right in with the weird, sexy nightmares Eric was having. Besides, Gina wasn't bisexual, was she? He did not want that conversation and didn't get it.
Gina said nothing about the girl and instead immediately began berating Eric. She repeated the new rules. Eric was to shut up and obey. No lip. Eric would cook and clean, but he was not permitted to leave the condo even to shop. Gina declared Eric grounded. It was actually house arrest but Gina was enjoying the mode of talking to him like a disobedient child rather than a convicted adult. Gina warned Eric not to waste his time beating off. "Don't even think about touching that peni-weenie. You kissed your secretary's pee pee? Caught, fired? Awful. Pervert." Then Gina showed Eric her ass, walking out and, leaving her contrite, devastated boyfriend home alone.
Gina met Ashley and they went together to the office to check on Ashley's latest experiment in human combination. Ashley bubbled about the merits of alloying Claudia, Attorney-at Law, and plain, over-educated, dried-up scholastic, with Shyanne, the beautiful dropout prostitute. "Maybe they will just explode in my crucible, or, if the chemical valence is just right, they will smolder and fuse into an amorous couple, each dependant on the other to fill some gaping emptiness in their beings. The crippled couple will be obliged to serve me." Gina knew Ashley's affinity for playing with people all too well. Her friend's penchant for creative, bizarre meddling was always a ready source of appalling amusement.
When they entered Ashley's office, Shyanne was sitting behind Ashley's desk sipping coffee. Shyanne was naked except for thong panties. She was bleary eyed and bedraggled, but beautiful as always. Shyanne started, and leaped out of Ashley's chair. Her firm silicone breasts bounced and her long blonde hair flopped in her face. "Oh, good morning Ashley. I was just, just..."
