LADIES IN LEATHER GLOVES

Like Son, Like Father

Part Sixteen

Timothy was not quite sure about how he wanted to spend the slightly more than two hours until two o'clock.  He descended the massive staircase to the first floor and wandered out the front door onto the grounds of the estate.  The air was brisk and refreshing.  The pale light of a winter sun shined on small patches of snow on distant hills.  The scent of evergreens was in the air.  To avoid the stables where his father worked and slept, Timothy strolled around the opposite side of the manor.  After a long walk around the east wing, Timothy came to the back of a shorter north wing.  He paused a moment at the entrance to the basement from which he and Danny had emerged prior to their footrace across the rolling hills in the moonlight on All Hallows Even.  Timothy reflected on the fact that, if not for that race, his father would not be working in the Chadwick stables.  His father would not be subject to merciless whippings at the gloved hands of Carolyn Chadwick and of Timothy's childhood sweetheart, Stacy Rodgers.  His father would not be on the verge of spending the rest of his life as Carolyn Chadwick's sex toy.  His father would still be back at the rectory and church of his little rural town parish.  The Reverend Alvin Horsewick would still be preaching fear of the Lord, along with goodness and kindness each Sunday morning.  The Reverend would still be putting others on the road to salvation through his preaching and through the example of his simple, blameless life.  All that had ended for his father because Timothy had succumbed to the siren lure of wickedness and evil.

  But Timothy knew that there was also much goodness in Denise and in Jennifer, too. Would he ever be able to save them from their wanton wickedness and redeem his father as well?

  How could I, thought Timothy, when I'm powerless to resist going back to Carolyn Chadwick?  For Timothy knew that, at two o'clock, he would be back to see Carolyn - just as she had requested.

  But, no, thought Timothy - I'm not going back to see her because of lust.  I'm going back to see her because I seriously want her to reconsider her plans to wed my father.  And she is not going to twist me around her gloved finger.  I'm a human being with a mind and will of my own.  I'll show her that she cannot control me. I'll show her that she cannot seduce me.  I'll show her, I'll show her - I'LL SHOW HER!

  Determined to resist any and all temptation, Timothy turned and strode resolutely back to the front entrance to the manor, into the hall and up the staircase to Carolyn's third floor boudoir.  He knew his heart was pounding and his face was flushed, but it didn't matter.  Timothy had decided that he was a man, and no woman could tell him what to do.  When he reached Carolyn's study, he paused briefly and decided to enter her bedroom through the door from her study.  As he walked through her study, he noticed the mess left by Wilbur.  It was still slowly running and dripping off the leaves of the potted plant. 

  "That bitch!" said Timothy under his breath.  "Just who does she think she is to do that to Wilbur and then tell him that she'll whip him for it the next day?  By God! I swear I'll rip those kidskin gloves right off her hands!"  As Timothy stood hyperventilating in Carolyn's study, tears of rage streamed from his eyes. 

  "My father and Wilbur and I are human beings!" he thought.  Suddenly he realized that he had worked himself up into the same sort of frenzy that his father had been in when he had invaded Stacy's house.

  "That will never do," thought Timothy.  "I've got to calm down and remain cool and collected.  Carolyn Chadwick can't fluster me.  She can't upset me.  I'm not going to play into those leather-gloved hands.  I'm the one who will be in control.  I can't lose my head." 

  Timothy decided that he would show Carolyn Chadwick what true savoir-faire was all about.  When he had managed to calm his breathing somewhat, he strolled over to the door to Carolyn's bedroom and knocked.

  "Timmy Horsewick?" called Carolyn from some distance on the other side.  

"Yes," said Timothy.

  "Timmy," called Carolyn, "It's only 1:45, and I'm not quite ready yet.  The door is unlocked.  Why don't you let yourself in and just make yourself at home for a few minutes.  I'm bathing.  I'll be out shortly."

  Timothy opened the door and stepped into Carolyn's bedroom.

  "Relax a little.  Sit down on the couch, if you like," called Carolyn from the open door of her bathroom. 

  Timothy sat down on a comfortable brown leather couch.  He immediately become fixated on a pair of long, black leather gloves that had been left tossed over what, at first glance, appeared to be a piece of abstract sculpture sitting on an end table.  The sculpture vaguely resembled a rocket or missile sitting at an angle on a launch pad.  But upon closer inspection, Timothy realized that the sculpture was not abstract at all.  It was, in fact, an extremely realistic representation of an erect phallus cast in bronze.  Part of the base on which the phallus rested consisted of a pair of brass balls.  Something about the display of gleaming black kidskin gloves draped over the sculpture struck Timothy as incredibly lewd.  It also thrilled him to his core.  While Timothy sat lost in a world of his own thoughts, Carolyn, wrapped in a terrycloth robe, emerged from her bathroom.

  "They're nice, aren't they, Timmy?" said Carolyn as she slowly strolled over to the couch.  

"W-What?" said Timothy with his face blushing so deeply that he felt it was almost going to burn up.  

"You know what, Timmy.  The gloves.  They're nice gloves."  

"Y-Yes," said Timothy with a lump in his throat.  

"Timmy, I heard that Jennifer mistook you for a prisoner and whipped you pretty severely yesterday.  Are you okay?"  

Timothy was too ashamed to give Carolyn an answer.  He did not want to admit to the horrific beating he had taken.

  After a moment of silence, Carolyn continued, "Timmy, let me see what she did.  She didn't mean to hurt you, you know.  She thought that you were one of the prisoners. Please, take off your shirt and let me have a look."  

Rather disarmed by Carolyn's apparently genuine concern, Timothy stood up and slowly removed his shirt.  

"Oh, my Lord!" exclaimed Carolyn.  "She really whipped the shit out of you!  Timmy, I'm truly impressed that you were able to withstand that amount of pain!  And I'm also impressed by Jennifer's enthusiasm!  To think that she used to be so shy about using a whip on a male!  I must say that her technique has improved 100 percent!  Of course once she overcame her initial shyness, discovered the power of her sexuality and started wearing gloves, she developed a much more natural feel for holding and using a whip."  

Before Timothy knew what was happening, Carolyn Chadwick was unbuckling his belt and pulling down his zipper.  

"Take off your pants and the rest of your clothing, Timmy," said Carolyn.  "I want to make sure that she did not seriously injure you.  You may need medical attention.  We might have to get a nurse to look at you."  

"N-No," said Timothy in an alarmed tone as he quickly removed the rest of his clothing.  He did not want the news that he had been severely whipped by girls to leak out.

  "Okay, Timmy - okay," said Carolyn reassuringly.  "We'll keep it between the two of us.  Sit back down on the couch a moment while I slip out of this robe into something much more comfortable."  

Carolyn loosened the belt on her robe and let it slip off onto the floor.  She stood stark naked.  Then, as Timothy's pulse explosively quickened, she took a couple of steps toward the other end of the couch and picked up the long, black kidskin gloves that had been hanging over the bronze phallus.  

"Sometimes I like to spend my afternoons just lounging around with nothing more than a pair of gloves on," said Carolyn.  "The intimacy of soft leather makes a woman feel so special.  It's a girl thing - something men would never understand.  Gloves are one of the ultimate ways for a woman to pamper herself.  It's like wearing sex on your fingers, hands and arms."

  As Carolyn was talking, she placed her right knee on the couch near Timothy's left hip and began the long, sensuous process of drawing the right glove onto her arm. As she inserted her delicate hand into the opening of the glove, the fleecy-soft kidskin fingers brushed over the head of Timothy's already-hardening penis.  His pecker instantly sprang into full erection and began thrashing about wildly.

  "That's good," said Carolyn.  "Your penis responds nicely to the touch of my glove. It's a good thing they didn't whip you there."

  As Carolyn dangled the limp, empty leather fingers of her glove, Timothy's pecker seemed to lengthen even more in an effort to reach them.  By alternatively dangling the fingers of her glove above Timothy's pecker and then lightly brushing them across the blood-engorged head, Carolyn was able to make his boner dance this way and that.

  "How lovely - or should I say 'glovely'?" said Carolyn.  "Your penis and my glove are like partners in a dance.  But even though my glove is the lady, she's quite obviously leading your pecker.  Such is the dance of life, don't you think, Timmy? The female attracts, and the male follows in hot pursuit.  And I would say that your pecker is very hot for my glove, wouldn't you, Timmy?"  

Timothy didn't answer.  He was mortified that Carolyn Chadwick enjoyed such control over him.  

"It's all right, Timmy - it's all right," said Carolyn.  "You're going to learn that my gloves are your friends - just as my whip is.  There's no need to be sad. There's no need to be embarrassed or ashamed.  It's all perfectly natural and quite normal.  It's the way things were meant to be, Timmy.  The male was meant to serve the female.  It's your role in life.  It's what you were created for.  And now your father knows that, too.  Deep down inside, he always did know it.  But he fought it all his life.  He tried to deny it until it ate him up inside.  Now he understands that his true purpose - and the true purpose of every male in life - is to serve the female."

  At this point, Carolyn had worked nearly the full length of her glove up her arm and over her elbow but had only begun the sensuous task of working the leather fingers over the fingers of her hand.  With her fingers only partially inserted into their slender black leather sheaths, she caressed Timothy tenderly under his chin.  The still-empty, fleecy-soft fingertips of her glove brushed lightly and deliciously against Timothy's neck and the underside of his chin.  Thrills coursed up and down his spine.  He felt light-headed and slightly dizzy as his penis further hardened into steel-like rigidity.  The more he tried to deny Carolyn's power over him and tried to tell himself that her gloves were just coverings for her hands - nothing more than mittens with fingers - the more overpowered he was by the thrilling touch of the kidskin still only partially drawn onto her fingers.  Once again, he had that feeling of being helplessly captivated and totally enthralled.  He had no choice other than to sink under the spell of her glove until he was fully immersed in a pleasure infinitely greater than his own feeble will to resist.  In a mystifying way, the whole thing seemed all the more powerful precisely because it defied his powers of reasoning.

  "Go ahead, Timmy," purred Carolyn, lightly brushing the limp leather fingertips across his lips.  Go ahead and kiss, Timmy - you know your place.  Let the pain you experienced yesterday blossom into pleasure as you come to accept your own insignificance."  

Carolyn placed her left knee on the couch alongside Timothy's right hip so that she knelt on the couch with her pussy on his lap.  Her bush brushed against the sensitive underside of Timothy's hugely swollen pecker.  With her bare left hand, she reached around behind Timothy's head and held her empty left glove with the fingers pressed under his chin while continuing to brush the fleecy-soft fingertips of her right glove across his lips.  The delicious fragrance of perfumed kidskin flooded Timothy's nostrils.  Timothy began fervently kissing each limp leather fingertip as it was pressed to his lips.  

"I understand how hard it must be for males to discover their place," whispered Carolyn.  "That whipping must have been horrible."  

Carolyn then lightly brushed the fleecy-soft kidskin fingertips of her right glove across the some of the lacerations left on Timothy's chest from his whipping.  

"A whipping like that would have landed most males in the hospital," said Carolyn.  

Carolyn's compassion humiliated Timothy in ways that were even worse than being whipped.  He had gone to her with the hope that he might actually make her respect and look up to him.  Instead, he found himself nothing more than an object for this beautiful woman's pity.

  Suddenly, despite his every effort not to do so, Timothy started weeping.  Tears streamed down his cheeks as he recalled the unbelievable pain of the girls' bullwhips lacerating his naked flesh.  Memories flooded over him - the memories of seeing a mere girl beat the daylights out of his manly father with her leather-gloved fist and then later seeing his father crawling on his hands and knees while being mercilessly bullwhipped.

  Carolyn pressed Timothy's face into her cleavage.  His entire body quaked as he sobbed uncontrollably.  Carolyn moved to Timothy's right but remained kneeling on the couch.  Again, she buried his face in her cleavage.  

"It's okay, poor baby.  Go right ahead and cry.  It's okay," murmured Carolyn soothingly while hugging him with a slight rocking motion.  "Things will get better for you as you come to accept your place in life, Timmy.  They got better for your Dad, and they will for you, too.  Tell you what, Timmy: as we discuss your Dad, how would you like to help me on with my gloves?  Helping a lady put on her gloves is something every male ought to learn from an early age."  

Carolyn sat down on Timothy's right side with her right hand held out before him. Her left teat pressed against his right shoulder.  With her left arm around the back of his neck, she continued holding her empty left glove pressing lightly under his chin.  As he tried in vain to calm the all-too-obvious trembling of his hands, Timothy began the delectable task of working Carolyn's right glove to a snug fit on her hand.  Delightful though it was, the task was not an easy one, for the thin kidskin caressed Carolyn's hand like a second skin; and the interior of the unlined glove was so plush that the fingers of the glove almost had to be stroked onto Carolyn's fingers.  

"Be sure to work the glove down snug between each of my fingers," purred Carolyn. "That's the most sensuously delectable aspect of working on a pair of kidskin gloves.  Let me show you how to do it."

  Carolyn draped her left glove over Timothy's left shoulder and took his left hand in hers.

  "Spread your fingers apart, Timmy," she said.

  Then, holding his hand with his fingers spread, she pressed the crotch between his left index and middle finger against the crotch between the same fingers of the glove on her right hand so that her fingers and Timothy's were interlocked.  Carolyn wiggled her own fingers until the crotch of her glove was worked all the way down between her index and middle finger.  She repeated this for all the fingers of their hands until her right glove was snugged down between all her fingers.  Carolyn noticed that semen was starting to slowly ooze out the pink, bloated head of Timothy's throbbing boner.  She also noticed that Timothy's hand was streaked with scar tissue.

  "What is this?" she asked while tracing her leather-gloved finger along the whitish scars on his palm.  

"Th-Th-That's from when I fell into the gorge," whimpered Timothy.  "I tried to hang onto some bramble bushes, b-b-but the thorns d-dug into my hands."  

"That's awful," said Carolyn.  "Of course, men's hands were intended to take a lot of punishment; but, still, it must have horrible - you poor baby!"  

Timothy sniveled as he tried to choke back his tears.  

"Timmy, sweetums," purred Carolyn as she changed the subject abruptly, "you can't possibly imagine how wonderful this glove feels on my hand, but I'll try to give you some idea."

  Carolyn took her empty left glove and turned it partially inside out by pulling out the hand portion partway through the unbuttoned wrist opening.  Then she rubbed the velvety-plush suede interior of the glove against Timothy's face with her bare left hand.  She covered his nose with the inside of her left glove while stroking his cock with her kid-gloved right hand.  Every now and then she would squeeze the rigid shaft just below his now-purple pecker head between her black leather-sheathed index and middle fingers.  Suddenly, Timothy's balls jerked in a spasm of pleasure as they prepared to shoot his load.  

Carolyn resumed her light stroking.  Her buttery-soft black kidskin glove became a blur as her gloved hand flashed up and down along the twelve-inch length of Timothy's shaft.  Carolyn's gloved hand felt Timothy's load surging up his throbbing boner.  She quickly removed her left glove from over his nose and aimed his erection directly at his face.  She jerked and pumped his pleasure-engulfed shaft relentlessly while Timothy's semen splattered against his forehead, nose and cheeks.  Some of his cum entered his mouth while he struggled to breath with his lungs working like pistons.  Carolyn's gloved hand continued to milk his penis until his balls were totally sperm-dry. 

  Timothy had drenched his face, chest and abdomen with himself.  His heart still pounded.  For a brief moment, his eyes rolled upward.  He thought he was about to pass out from the extreme pleasure he had just experienced.  Then he glanced across the bedroom and noticed that Carolyn had gotten off the couch and strolled over to a box of tissue paper where she stood meticulously wiping his cum off her gloved right hand.  When she had finished, Carolyn tossed the box of tissues to Timothy.

  "Clean up, Timmy," said Carolyn.  "That was only one glove.  Now you have to help me on with the left one." 

  In utter disbelief, Timmy glanced down at his crotch.  His pecker, which Carolyn had milked sperm-dry only a minute or two ago, was already nearly fully erect again. Timothy's burgeoning boner did not escape Carolyn's notice.

  "Wow!" she said.  "The formula is finally perfected!  Timothy dear, you and I are going to have some real fun this afternoon!"