"Where IS she?" Gerry moaned...It's been forty-five minutes... My dick hurts, I can't stand it!
* * * * *
Danielle, owner of the salon where Helen was a stylist often remarked that her star employee sounded like an art historian and dressed like Joan Jett...
"Must be the cute young lawyer who rents from you, huh?" Dani kidded...Helen looked great today outside the coffee shop, spiky red hair, tank top (no bra) and tiny leather miniskirt. Her new fishnet stockings looked great too...Gerry had hooked the garters that morning, trembling...
It's great that I still can do that to him at nearly fifty, she thought. One of Helen's ivory hands, the long nails colored the same flaming red as the hair and lipstick, absently stroked a collie's ear, the other held a bottle of Johnson's Baby Lotion, purchased twenty minutes before at that awful CVS drugstore a block down.
Gerry preferred Astroglide, but this would do. She'd been gone an hour now, what with coffee and shopping...was Gerry all right? If anything happened after all, he couldn't move. Helen smiled, and sipped some of her latte. Strange to worry this time, after fourteen years of this. The stove was off, the door locked. He must be squirming.
* * * * *
Gerald David Morin, 33-year old patent attorney and first year partner at Gideon, Shapiro and Burling tried to stretch his arms...no, he couldn't move them, not an inch.
Jesus, I curl 175 but Helen makes the ropes fuckin' tight. Why isn't she back? Gerry lay spread eagled on Helen's four poster bed, his broad chest taut, and hands and feet tied by tight nylon cord to each wooden banister.
Naked as always, his pierced dick struggling in its weird loop, the cock head attached by a ring to a tiny padlock in another ring just above the scrotum. Impossibly, pre cum seemed to be oozing across his ball sack. Helen had just been going to unlock it when she realized they were out of lubricant. It had been more than an hour...where the hell was she?
Though it had been Gerry who begged that they switch him from the chastity belt to pierced rings in '98, he sometimes regretted it. He had to sit down to pee, like a girl . He hadn't used a urinal in five years. And now his dick really hurt right now, and looked ridiculous in its constant tremble...trembling because its natural instinct was to stick straight up, not to be hooked to his balls...stick straight up and wait for Helen's wandering fingers.
"Do you want to go with a bunch of us to Great Falls this weekend?" Marsha, a summer associate in her early twenties had asked on Friday...
"I'm going to be wearing cut-offs and splashing my feet after all the work on this case." Gerry had imagined she'd look good in cut-offs... His penis had struggled against the ring then, making a teeny tent in his Brooks Brothers summer trousers.
"I can't." He tried to smile.
"Gerry NEVER goes out with us. Wasn't even at the Christmas party." Ann, a second-year associate with bouncing auburn curls who'd flirted with Gerry since her first day at Gideon interrupted.
" I think he has a curfew or something ...Look! He's BLUSHING!" The women's laughter had tinkled cruelly...but Ann was so close. Not a only a curfew but a BEDTIME. Thirty-three years old, and he'd never seen "Law and Order" because it was on after eight- thirty. Sometimes he could stay up until nine if Helen felt like a little cunnilingus or a massage, but usually she got that BEFORE dinner.
Helen loved him, and she knew best...Gerry's reverie was interrupted by the door opening. For a minute he panicked...What if it were the old Miss Hall from the dog park? Did she have a key? Oh Shit.
"Hello, sweetie, I'm back." came the familiar lilting Southern tones...Oh, thank God. Helen came into the room, tucking in her tank top, which of course made her chest balloon...
"What have you been doing?" An old joke, they both laughed. She sat on her stool by the bed, and took the key off the bedside table. "Ooh, it's purple...you don't need me." Helen smiled at his agonized look, and unlocked the tiny padlock between the rings. Gerry's penis shot up to attention.
"Like one of my daddy's recruits at Fort Benning." Helen, a former army brat said, laughing, and took the lotion out of the bag. Seeing Gerry's disappointment at her purchase, she cocked her head.
"What did you want me to do Gerald, drive down to the Pleasure Chest?"
"God you're beautiful, Miss Helen" Even after he'd discovered they both had subscriptions to "Leg Tease" after he'd rented her basement his sophomore year at Georgetown.
"You're a cutie too, my Gerald" Helen began gently rubbing the lotion into the underside of his now furious and quite violet member...
"Thank you ma'am...ooh that's good...I'm so horny..." A sharp flick of a fire-engine nail on the cock head "er- I mean aroused" Though she'd left Vanderbilt after her first year Miss Helen was still an educated woman and frowned on slang.
Gerry had never really felt comfortable going to a first-name basis with Helen; but she'd allowed him to go from Mrs. O'Neill to Miss Helen on their fifth anniversary; when he'd signed over his first Gideon paycheck.
After rubbing and stroking his penis for about five minutes, Helen stood up, and Gerry caught a flash of the garter attaching her net stockings. God, I'm glad I bought her that miniskirt, her legs are better than Ann's.
"What...what's wrong? Why are you getting up?" It was feeling so good, too..."Sweetie, I have to go in the kitchen and feed Victoria and Albert...I'll be back..." His penis wagging like a metronome, Gerry tried to smile.
A tantrum wouldn't work, being trussed like this. Not to mention that Miss Helen could lock him right back up again, as she'd done in the past when Gerry had summarily ordered her to keep stroking...
As Helen only gave him a "teasing" every other Sunday morning, with release averaging about once every 90 days ("So you have something to look forward to, Gerald; remember, an expectation is a resentment waiting to happen") it behooved the K Street law community's patent and trademark expert to keep his remarks prudent.
"Aah...take your time, Miss Helen. I'll bathe the dogs for you later on." If he kissed up enough, maybe today would be cum-day...maybe.
Helen smiled, gently pushed a fluffier pillow under her captive's head, and she left the room, her derriere twitching in the skirt as the door closed. Gerry sighed and bent his chin on his chest to watch the juices flowing from his miserable, enthralled and utterly unsatisfied "wee-wee"
A fortnight earlier, Helen had made the shaft of it buck, supported by Gerry's hips, as she'd alternated for five hours between her glorious fingers and an ostrich feather that she'd picked up at the Georgetown flea market.
After about 20 minutes of feather-rubbing the area just under his cock head, Gerry had burst into tears, begging Helen to quit, and she'd immediately, to his chagrin ceased the entire tease, icing his member til it was flaccid for the evil padlock.
"No, don't stop COMPLETELY..." he'd begged, tears and mucus running down his cheeks...but she'd locked him, untied him and put him to work scrubbing her five bathrooms..."A more productive occupation anyway, Gerald for an enterprising youngster on a weekend afternoon ."No cumming for another two weeks. Damn! DAMN!
He'd primed himself to be ready for the feather's ministrations today, but Helen's mind was fertile with surprises...in fourteen years he'd never been able to predict her next move!
Gerry had interrupted a deposition last Wednesday to duck into a restroom stall to uh, prep for the upcoming Sunday feather, when he remembered again as he had several times in the past decade that, although he could stimulate his cock as long as he liked, lubing with that vile pink soap the firm had, it was to no avail...though he averaged five bathroom trips a day for this sordid purpose.
With the evil padlock there was NO RELEASE. Back to the meeting he'd trudge, ball sack leaden.
"Don't you ever give up?" Miss Helen often asked, arching one eyebrow. "Just use the lavatory for its correct purpose, Gerald." as she clucked over the scabs the cheap pink liquid left on his unsatisfied erections.
Once when he threw a tantrum over wanting the padlock removed before cum-day, she'd replaced it with a steel ball hooked to the rings, and batted it between his legs with a spoon as Gerry writhed in pain. It didn't help that nearly every night, he was giving her gorgeous 36DD breasts a scented oil massage, and spending two hours or so (before dinner)between her legs...He was hornier, and she was fine!
A few weeks ago Gerry had begun crying when he realized he was licking someone's semen out of her vagina...his penis had certainly never been down there, and she soothed him..."Just an old friend I saw..."
It's worth it though, he thought now, bound to the bed, Bring on the feather, I'm ready. "I'm back, Gerald." Helen swished back in..."Victoria is really enjoying the leftover bacon...Did you miss me?" Gerry nodded weakly, and watched Helen sit down and prop a plastic box of dental floss on her fishnet thigh.
"Miss Helen has a surprise today..." She smiled, and pulled a bit of floss out of the box. Was she going to tend to her teeth, before bringing out the horrible feather? Snapping off a piece of floss about seven inches long Helen then squirted a bit of lotion in her left hand, and, floss in her right, rubbed both hands together. What was this?
Helen then took the greasy strand between the fingers of both hands, and looped it around Gerry's straining cock, in that sensitive area just beneath the head where the feather had visited two Sundays before. And then holding the ends between the crimson tipped thumb and forefinger of each hand, Helen began pulling the string back and forth... END OF PART ONE 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 cock head, 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...
