Love In Cathedral Heights

"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...

It'd been an hour of this, punctuated by brief, no release hand jobs...

"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 down the shaft, pulling 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 ballooning cleavage straining against the tank-top as she bent over to pull 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

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 pre cum off his landlady's long fingernail as if it were a dildo, and withdrawing her finger, Helen opened the end table drawer and took 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 spot less, the ponytail and beard would be replaced with a crew cut and clean shave; 500 daily chin ups, push-ups and sit ups 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, damn it! 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 mischievous 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.