Cruel Games with a Broom Handle
The man lost his way. After hours of wandering, a building appeared on the horizon.
An anonymous structure, bare gray walls surrounded by weeds and unmoved grass. A broken neon sign that would never burn again had once spelled out “Lounge.” It looked deserted. But a thin light, through a slit on the door suggested otherwise.
Not sure if he should enter, he knocked on the door. Response was swift. A beautiful dark-haired woman yanked the door open.
She smiled and said:
“C’mon in stranger and meet the girls.”
Entering he saw two blonde, equally sexy women. They repeated the other woman’s smile.
“I’m lost, don’t know where I am.”
The blonde woman near the tap said:
“You’re here now, relax. Have a beer on the house.”
He poured the whole glass down his throat. Apologetically, he said:
“I’m sorry I’m desperately parched.”
The dark-haired woman asked:
“Where are you headed?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve been hitching rides. Figured I’d get a job at the next city.”
He did not register the look the women shared. Moving to a different tap, the woman drew another glass of beer.
He sipped the second drink. He asked if this were a private club.
“Just us,” one said. “We like our privacy but you are most welcome.”
He was unsteady. His legs felt weak. Exhaustion he thought must be catching up.
The dark-haired woman caught him, kept him from hitting the floor. The knockout drug is absorbed quickly on an empty stomach.
He woke on a cot. Sitting up he realized he was naked. The man blushed. The women must have seen his nude body.
Where were his clothes? He called out:
A blonde woman appeared.
“Welcome back stranger. Come on out”
“Where are my clothes?”
“Don’t worry, you don’t have anything we haven’t seen before.”
“Uh …” Embarrassed, his tongue froze.
“Silly boy, here, put on my apron.”
All three women were present. He blushed from head to foot.
“Aren’t you the shy one?”
“Girls, doesn’t that pink apron make him look like a sissy boy.”
He blushed. His skin matched the apron.
“Don’t blush. There’s no shame in being a sissy.”
“But I’m not.”
“Are you sure?”
“Don’t cuss, naughty words don’t make you more of a man.”
“He needs a spanking for cursing.”
All the women agreed. But he did not.
“Look, you can’t …”
Two grabbed his arms. The three shoved him up and onto the bar, face down.
The dark-haired woman started spanking him with her hand.
“It’s gone to take more than a hand. Where’s his belt?”
The belt hurt. Upset, he tried to rise. The women held him tight.
“Stop struggling. You are not getting up until we’re finished.”
The woman spanking him stopped. Reaching under the counter, she brought out rope.
He tried to fight them off. Soon they had him clumsily but immovably bound.
All three took a turn with the belt. They ignored his threats and pleas.
Tired, the women poured glasses of draft and relaxed.
The man yelled.
“Shut up or we’ll shut you up.”
“What’ll we do next?”
One blonde picked up a broom.
“How about this?”
“What are you going to do with that broom?”
“Something you’ll enjoy sissy boy.”
She rubbed the end of the wood handle with Vaseline.
“No, you can’t do that to me. Please.” He started scream for help.
One woman took off her stockings. It made an excellent gag.
One by one, each woman shoved the broom handle into his rectum. Pulled it back and forth. Wriggled it around inside him.
He shook frantically.
“Look at you. Just like a sissy. I know you wish it was a big black penis. Maybe we’ll introduce you to our friend, Bull Moose.”
“Girl’s I think we have a keeper. Don’t you agree?”
“You know what that means sissy?”
He shook his head.
“You aren’t going anywhere. No one knows where you are. Nobody will come looking for you.”
He felt sick, terrified.
“You will be our play toy. Our slave. You’ll learn about our favorite games. There will be many surprises. Like Bull Moose.”
She turned to the other women.
“That beer passed straight through me. Who else wants to try our new urinal?”