As I was finishing up the leaves after my whipping, Gary drove by, and came up to the fence to talk.
He noted the T planks stapled to my cock and the welts on my naked rear end.
At one point Gretchen knocked on the window and waved the quirt threateningly at me.
"She's real high maintenance, dude." was all he could say before leaving me to hurriedly complete my raking.
The rest of the week was really quite hellish...
I did all my chores, all Tom's chores, and Gretchen thought of lots of other things for me to do with the T board locked on my penis.
The worst part was the 200 jumping jacks which hurt my dick, hurt my knees when the T hit them, and once gave me a bloody nose when it flew up. That evening, I was watching Gretchen read her magazine in a beige corset just covering her boobs, and a G string, with scalloped lace-top stockings.
My dick stiffened against the board and the nails really began to hurt. "Mmm..." I gritted my teeth.
Gretchen looked at me. "What's wrong, you're lifting the board with your dick...strong man!"
I looked at her pleadingly. "I can't take this board anymore. Looking at you in that hot outfit is causing my dick a lot of pain, honey!"
Gretchen leaned over and pushed her boobs together in the low cut cleavage and shook them at me, with a sexy pout.
My penis hardened, pulling up the T planks and I bit my lip. Gritting my teeth more, I closed my eyes.
But the board was still grinding into my penis, or vice versa. The sharp pain of the nail brads was excruciating.
I thought about basketball.
"With Chicago nursing a two-point edge late, Perkins nailed a 3-pointer with 14 seconds left to give the Lakers a one-point lead. Scott then added a free throw to give the Lakers a hard-fought 93-91 victory..."
I felt the T board go down a bit. Now it was just back to a dull pain of dragging again. I opened my eyes.
There she was flashing a nipple. The sharp pains returned!
Seeing my distress, Gretchen smiled. "Honey, just because I'm not interested in doing the deed with you, doesn't mean I shouldn't be able to dress in a way that I feel attractive, as a sexually available woman."
I was almost crying now, the pain was so much. Also the planks kept hitting the coffee table as my penis erected.
Baseball.
"Cabrera is is 0-2 with a 7.43 earned runs average--"
I opened my eyes, she flashed me AGAIN.
Mental arithmetic? I was real good at that in junior high. I thought of one I was impressing them with at the water cooler on Thursday.
"Three tracks on a CD have the following times:10:34,6:25,8:07...What is the total time? Seventy-two seconds equals one minute twelve seconds..."
I felt something hit my face, and opened my eyes again. Gretchen had thrown a spitball at me, and flashed her boobs again.
Good thing she wasn't in my classes at school. Thank the Lord for good old single sex St. Bart's Academy.
But Mr. Dean's List got hard AGAIN...oh, the pain.
Gretchen smiled and cocked her head. "This is so good for you, Miles. "
She came over and sat next to me on the couch.
" Miles, the burden of your penis's demands is causing you so much distress that you're realizing what a pain it is for the rest of the household."
Gretchen reached out a finger. "Do you like my manicure, Miles? It's Maybelline Wet Shine polish. It won the Lacquer battle of the drug store nail polishes."
"It's lovely" I managed. She began stroking the shaft of my penis, so cruelly nailed to the T planks.
"You see, Miles, you've got this huge burden. We all feel it."
Gretchen ran her finger up and down the top of my shaft, the bottom being inaccessible because of course of the planks.
" Tom thinks you're going to throw him out of the house because of your jealousy issues..."
Gretchen kissed my ear and began stroking faster, and my cock filled with blood, making the skin around the nails stretch quite painfully.
"I am annoyed at your constant lustful gazing at me and other women." Gretchen toyed with the glans, and I moaned.
"You were looking at the neighbor girl, little Cassidy Delozier, just the other day because she was wearing that silly poplin polka-dot thing."
I thought of Cassidy Delozier in the silly poplin polka-dot thing and the pain became quite insistent.
"Or what about Faye Lookabaugh, she told me at the A&P that you are always staring at her butt." Gretchen began pulling on my foreskin, what little there was of it.
Faye Lookabaugh's butt, twitching in her annoying denim miniskirt, shot through my diseased mind.
"And then you jerk off all the time, and I catch you at it, and I feel so hurt" Gretchen suddenly smacked the tip of my penis hard against the T plank.
"Buh-but honey," I said with tears in my eyes, "You won't let me touch you, except to give you oral sex, and I have needs too."
"You must be joking." Gretchen said, shaking her head. "You think you're supposed to be wasting your seed like that? When the purpose of semen is to propogate the race?"
Gretchen shook her head and looked at me again.
"Miles, when I cum, it's not a waste of anything, but you're supposed to not waste your seed. I think it's in the Bible, no spilling."
I bit my lip. What the hell could I do to convince her!
"But you don't want me to screw you, Gretchen..."
"Not often" she corrected me. "Sometimes, when you behave well, you put me in the mood, admittedly, not often."
Gretchen tickled the end of my glans with a long nail.
"I keep wondering when you'll realize that your lust is just causing you--and me, pain, and weighing us down."
Suddenly Gretchen grabbed my head and pushed it into her cleavage--she hadn't allowed me to do that in YEARS, and my dick went hard so fast that the T square shot straight up.
"I wonder if I could attach a tray to that and have you serve drinks with your hands locked behind your back." she murmured.
I had an image of my hands cuffed behind my back, penis rock hard supporting a tray of Chardonnay glasses for Gretchen and her bitchy little friends.
