18. marca 2008 11:52:37 CET
"The Triplets" is a short story from a published collection of stories "Strictly Susan - The Second Collection"
“Come in,” they said in unison, giggling like silly schoolgirls.
He almost changed his mind. It was a joke, right? When the three girls told him they found him attractive and all wanted to make love with him, he had laughed and said he was sure he could manage all three of them.
“You couldn’t cope with one of us,” said the eldest scornfully.
“I could,” he had insisted, “You just give me the chance.”
It had all been very amusing, chatting them up and flirting outrageously in the quiet wine bar that evening. They all disappeared at the same time, to powder their noses, they had said, grinning. When they came back they looked more serious.
“You have absolutely no idea what we’d do to you if we had you,” said one.
“I’d take a chance,” he replied, still grinning widely.
They exchanged glances.
“OK. Be here at midnight tonight, “ one of them handed him a scrap of paper with an address scrawled on it, “But don’t say we didn’t warn you.”
They left, and he sat alone for a while quite convinced it was all a wind-up. If he went to that address it would not be the girls who lived there. Maybe they picked a street name and number at random; maybe they had deliberately given him an address of someone who was going to be very annoyed at being disturbed at midnight; maybe the house belonged to someone they did not like. Whatever it was, he was quite certain they were not serious.
But... just suppose...
He simply had to find out for sure.
And so there he was and there they were, all three of them in front of him as he stood on the doorstep scarcely able to believe they had actually given him their correct address.
“He’s shy.”
A hand reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him in through the open doorway. The door shut behind him.
“I don’t think he’s up to it.”
“I bet he is.”
All three were close to him, so close he could feel their bodies touching him. A hand pressed against the front of his trousers, completing the reaction that had already inevitably started.
“He’s up to it all right. Feel.”
Two more hands slid over him, squeezing slightly and seeming to be checking size and length.
“Not impressive,” said one.
“He’ll do,” said another.
“Do you think he can keep it up?” said the third.
Exciting as it was to have these three touching him, he was beginning to feel this was rather more than he could cope with.
“I think I ought to leave,” he stuttered, although part of him desperately wanted to stay.
“Don’t you like us?” asked one, seeming to be surprised.
“Of course I like you... ”
“Then you’re just being bad - and we can’t have THAT.”
Two pairs of hands grabbed his arms firmly, and almost before he knew what was happening his belt had been removed, and his trousers and pants had been pulled down to his ankles.
“Hey...” he started to protest, but the rest of his words turned into a gasp of pain as a hand shot swiftly upwards between his legs, grasping his balls and squeezing painfully.
“This way,” she said.
He had no choice. With her firm and painful grasp between his legs and the other two pulling his arms, he found himself moving in the direction she commanded whether he wanted to or not.
Into a bedroom they pulled him as he groaned at the pain of her pulling and gripping him, completely unable to speak. She let go just as they reached the edge of the bed, but the pressure on his arms from the other two was not released, and he was pulled facedown onto the bed.
“I’ll show you what we do with men who are bad.”
He shouted in pain as the riding crop swished through the air and hit him across his bare buttocks, but his cries were muffled as the two girls holding his arms forced his head down into the soft bed. Again and again the crop struck him until he was crying in pain and humiliation.
“Enough. Put him into position.”
Scarcely able to struggle he felt himself being pulled upward, turned onto his back, his remaining clothes removed and his arms stretched towards the corners of the bed above his head. Thick cords were looped around his wrists and around his ankles. He was spread, star-like, and attached inescapably.
“You do realise what we could do to you now?”
He stared up blankly, hardly able to comprehend what was happening to him.
“And you do realise what we’re going to do to you now?”
They were waiting for an answer. He shook his head fearfully.
All three laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh. The girlish giggles had gone, and now he heard only menace in their voices.
“Anything we like!” they chanted in unison...
Strictly Susan - The Second Collection
