The Gas Man Cummeth

The doorbell rang just after Ruth had emerged from the shower and was wrapping herself in a fluffy blue bathrobe. She cursed softly then padded down the corridor, her bare feet leaving damp prints on the vinyl tiles. By the time she had reached the door she had draped a towel over her long blonde hair and shoulders. Peering through the spy-hole, she could see a tall man in a long black coat and a peaked cap standing on the step with a clipboard in one hand and a torch in the other. She opened the door just sufficiently to look directly at him from the crack. "Who is it?" she demanded, realising that he must be some sort of official.

"Sorry to bother you, miss, but I'm an Inspector from the Gas Board. Someone has reported an escape of gas in this area, and we need to check the mains connections to all the houses round here." He produced some sort of identity card and flashed it briefly through the gap. "It's a bit of an emergency – could I just have a glance at your in-coming mains? Shouldn't take more than a couple of minutes."

"Well, I suppose you'd better come in. The meter is in the cupboard under the stairs." She led the way.

The man sniffed deeply as he opened the door, then switched on his torch and crawled into the recess. He had a rather straggly beard, and seemed to be in his early twenties – about ten years her junior. She watched as he tapped the meter and the pipe leading to it with a screwdriver. "The pipe run seems to go through that room," he said emerging backwards from the cupboard. "I'd better just check in there, to be on the safe side. You can just leave me to it, Miss." As he moved into her lounge, sniffing ostentatiously, Ruth returned to the bathroom and began to dry her hair. Seconds later she heard something fall over in the lounge; he must have blundered into something. She dashed into the room to find him clutching her handbag. Her reaction was instantaneous. She flew at him, slashing the hardened edge of her hand across his windpipe. As he staggered, gasping for breath, she drove her bare knee viciously into his crotch. He instantly collapsed onto the floor, screaming in agony. One of his arms was then seized and twisted high up between his shoulder blades and the pain in his testicles was sickening.

"This isn't your lucky day," she hissed as she forced the arm still further upwards. She taught a women's self-defence course at the local college, but rarely had the opportunity to demonstrate her prowess against a genuine adversary. She was determined to make the most of it, and teach him a lesson he would never forget. "What's your name?" she demanded.

"Barry," he gasped.

"You are lying! But it doesn't matter – Barry. Some of your friends might imagine they would envy what is going to happen to you - but you will be able to tell them better, after I've finished with you. You might have to tell them in a high, soprano voice, by the way."

Barry whimpered in terrified bewilderment.

She hauled him to his feet. "You're breaking my arm," he squealed as she began to frog-march him towards the cellar door. Still twisting his wrist, she told him to open the door and switch on the light. They began to descend the recently installed open-tread staircase. The young man's eyes bulged as he caught sight of the numerous large mirrors, the accoutrements of shining metal and of leather hanging from the walls, and the ominous wooden structures that stood in the centre of the room.

Ruth took a wavy-edged dagger from the wall and jabbed it into his back immediately above the right kidney before releasing him. "Don't get any ideas, sonny," she said with another jab. Just do as I say and you won't get hurt – at least, not too badly!"

Barry was still bent almost double, clutching his testicles and groaning aloud. "Now, strip!" she ordered. "I'll be watching every move…"

At first he couldn't believe what she had said, but she repeated her command slowly and clearly. Miserably, he began to undress. He toyed with the idea of flinging his coat at her then attempting to disarm her, but she anticipated the ploy, moving quickly to one side and nudging him in the ribs with the Malaysian kris. Soon he was down to his underpants. He looked at her in dismay as she smiled grimly and said "Come along, Barry. I'm sure you have nothing to be ashamed of in there. Just let it all hang out…"

As his pants fell she goaded him forward with the point of the dagger, until he stood in front of a short but strongly constructed wooden pillory. He tried to protest, but was forced to place his head in the central recess, and his wrists in the hollows alongside. Ruth swung the heavy top bar in place and secured it with a padlock. Next she made him spread his legs before placing an iron shackle around each of his ankles and secured them to the framework at the base of the pillory.

"Let me explain…" Barry began.

"No explanations are necessary. Just shut up!" She opened a drawer and took out a rubber ball-gag. She forced it into his mouth and fastened the strap behind his head. "Sorry about this, but I don't want to get one of my headaches with you chattering away and probably screaming from time to time. Well, I'm just going to leave you for a minute or two. I hope you won't be lonely till I get back. I could give you a magazine to look at, but it would be a bit awkward with yours hands up there like that. Never mind, I won't be long. Just got a telephone call to make…" Barry mumbled inaudibly as she mounted the stair.

A few minutes later Barry heard the front door open and someone entered. The bitch had called the Police! He tugged again at the restraints, but it was useless. The cellar door opened, and footsteps began to descend, but he could not turn to look. It was not a policeman. Instead, Ruth and another girl stood in front of him, holding hands "Barry, allow me to introduce you to Yvette, a very good friend of mine. You two have quite a bit in common, I imagine. You see she really enjoys having her evil way with women. Unlike you, however, she uses a strap-on. She's very good with it, too! Very energetic, as I know from personal experience. I'd better warn you, though - she's not very keen on men! One of them… Well, I needn't go into it, but you can probably imagine what he did to her, and she didn't enjoy it one little bit! Psychologically, being raped like that made her a touch biased against men, and she's always wanted to get a bit of her own back. You won't mind if I watch, I suppose? Should be a bit of a laugh. For me, at least! Would either of you like a coffee before we make a start? Sorry, Barry I was forgetting about your gag… Afterwards perhaps." She was still wearing the bathrobe, but she shrugged it off and moved an easy chair to the best position for viewing the performance.

Yvette performed a brief floor-show for Barry's delectation, shrugging off her coat, then slowly removing the few scraps of lace she was wearing beneath it. Her black hair was cut short, urchin-style, and her elfin face was devoid of make-up. Her tiny beasts were adorned with incredibly long nipples and her belly was flat, with a bush of fine pubic hair in the triangle at its base. For a few moments she waved her breasts at the helpless man and tugged hard on the nipples before opening a drawer in a small dressing table and rummaging inside. Barry's stomach churned as he saw her examining a series of luridly-coloured dildos of all shapes and sizes. Some of them were embellished with hideous wart-like protuberances and corrugations. At length she selected a gigantic black dildo fitted with leather straps, which she fitted around her slender body, expertly securing the lewd object in place above her mound. He whimpered with horror as she approached him, waving the dildo as if it were a truncheon or a stripper discarding a bra.

"Don't be a silly boy!" she chided. "Just relax. I don't think we'll bother with lubricant, by the way. Messy stuff, don't you think? Well, not unless we really have difficulty, that is…"

Barry's whimper turned to a muffled scream of terror as placed the tip of the monstrosity against his anal sphincter and began to push. "It's no use making a fuss like that!" she said "Ruth had this place sound-proofed when they did the conversion, didn't you, sweetie?"

"That's right," Ruth replied, puffing at the cigarette she had lit. "A bit of advice, Barry - as the old saying goes, ‘if rape is inevitable, lie back and enjoy it.' Well, in your case, stand. Now, just relax and take it like a man…"

Yvette rammed the hard rubber deeper and deeper whilst her helpless victim squirmed and groaned in agony. Several inches were forced into his rectum before Yvette took a fresh grip on his hips and began to piston in and out, grunting with satisfaction as the pad on the end of the dildo pressed insistently against her clitoris. Meanwhile Ruth sprawled on her chair masturbating quietly as she watched the performance. "I'm sure he's beginning to enjoy it, Yvette. Just look in the mirror - he's got a lovely big erection. Seems a pity just to let it go to waste. What should we do with it, I wonder?"

Barry's struggle became even more desperate, but with the gag almost choking him his protests were reduced to an incoherent babble.

Ruth rose and stood naked in front of him. "All right, call me a sentimental old softie, if you like, but I'm going to take pity on him. Keep it up, Yvette, and I mean that very sincerely…"

She dropped to her knees and took his rampant cock in her hand. Yvette's thrusts drove Barry's prick backwards and forwards - all Ruth had to do was hold on tightly. After a minute or so, she licked her lips and took his prick into her mouth, sucking and licking excitedly. Barry writhed in simultaneous agony and ecstasy as two women took their pleasure with his helpless body.

Hours later the women released him. He was hardly able to walk, but they assisted him up the stairs and into the hall. They were fully dressed, but they refused to hand over his clothing, apart from his shoes. Ruth removed his gag then opened the door and looked out. It was dark outside, and no one was in sight. "Well, Barry, it's been – interesting - knowing you. But all good things must come to an end. Off you go, now, like a good lad!"

"But… my clothes! Aren't you going to give them back? I can't walk through the streets like this!"

With a smile, Ruth handed him a pair of frilly satin panties. "Here you are, then, mummy's boy! These will cover your embarrassment until you get home. And you've got your shoes. Never mind, one day you'll look back on all this and have a good laugh, I'm sure. We will, at any rate! No, we will hang onto your clothes. We'll add them to our play wardrobe – you never know when someone else might want to dress up as a gas inspector…"

"But what about my ID card – I've got to have that. And what I'm going to put on today's time-sheet I just can't imagine!"

Ruth stared at him, open-mouthed. "You mean – you really are a Gas Inspector?"

"Of course I am! I showed you my ID even before you opened the door…"

"What about my handbag then?"

"I accidentally knocked over your coffee table, and I was just picking everything up as you came in and attacked me."

"I'll go and get your clothes," Yvette said softly as she opened the door to the cellar.

"I don't even know how to BEGIN apologising," said a very contrite Ruth. "We'll just have to consider ourselves lucky that so far there hasn't been any explo…"

Her words were lost in the stupendous blast that was followed by the rumble of falling masonry …