The four of them had been inseparable, ever since grade school. Rob, Tom, Chris, and Bret had been so close growing up as kids in the suburbs of a large Midwest City, that everyone had dubbed them the Four Musketeers. Even in high school and throughout the years at the nearby college, the four stayed together. And even when Rob, Tom and Chris got married, they all lived in the same town and they all routinely spent almost every day and evening together. Their wives came in and just became part of the group.
Rob, Tom and Chris and gone into business together, in a small technology company. They worked together and played together, always competed outdo each other, and always vacationing only as a group of seven, Bret still being single. The favorite pastime was to see if they could find a wife for Bret. Because it was Bret who always seemed to stand slightly above and apart from the other three guys. He was tall, handsome, and while the others were solid engineers, Bret was a genius. He excelled at sports and while the others watched. It was Bret who starred on the college baseball team, while the other three created fantasy sports pools. While they dated seriously, zeroing in on a perfect spouse, Bret was dating and screwing anything in a skirt. His sexual prowess and size of his penis were the stuff of urban legends in the town. But after the game, after the dates, after it all, he always went back to being just one of the gang again, the Four Musketeers. And as they grew older, the competition to best each other grew also.
The rift started several years after they all finished college. While Rob, Tom and Chris and their wives saw each other constantly, Bret began to slowly slip away from the group. They would go for days without seeing or hearing from him, something always considered heresy for the Four Musketeers. And then, hallelujah, a call from Bret announcing that he was buying a home and that they should all come help him move in.
This was certainly cause for celebration. Not only was the house near to the homes of the other three, it was seen as a positive sign that Bret was looking to settle down. Carrie, Laura and Rae, the respective wives, agreed to redouble their effort to find Bret a wife.
Moving day was great. The Four Musketeers packed and unpacked and flawlessly moved Bret into his new digs. It turned out to be an older home in an established neighborhood, not far from the new housing development where the others lived. They all drank beer and laughed and horsed around, just like always.
Bret’s house was indeed a gem, beautiful and certainly one of a kind. Big rooms and hardwood floors abounded and the house teemed with unique nooks and crannies. High ceiling and lots of levels were everywhere. In fact, there was even a locked room on the lower level and the far end of the house. Even Bret hadn’t been able to get into it. Two massive padlocks barred the door. Bret’s real estate agent said that she would look into it, but he hadn’t heard from her again about it. They all laughed about the mystery room, and soon it was forgotten.
Not long after the move, the wives, Carrie, Laura and Rae, were fixing Bret up with dates, left and right. Thus began the quest to find’s Bret’s perfect mate, and for the wives perfect meant somebody who would fit into the group. Unfortunately, none of the setups took and once again, Bret began to disappear from the group. It was three months later that the group received the most shocking phone call of all.
Bret was getting married!! In two weeks!! And they were supposed to come to the wedding.
Absurd! Preposterous! And they had never even met this woman. The group was in total shock - especially the wives. In fact, it was a running joke that each of them in reality had four husbands. Each of the women, Carrie, Laura and Rae had been auditioned, if you will, during their courtships. Only a unanimous vote of approval from the Four Musketeers seemed good enough to lead to serious talk and ultimately marriage.
Laura had been the most difficult to get the men’s approval. She was a bit of a prude and quite outspoken about her devout religious convictions. She never swore and seemed to have no sense of humor. Sometimes it created a little tension in the group, since none of the others were into religious zeal, one way or another. But Tom liked her, so all the other guys went along. Carrie was a real cut-up and fit easily into the group at once. A little chunky and a bit overweight, she made up in humor what she lacked in beauty. Rae, on the other hand, was a beauty. Of Asian decent, she was tall, slim, and very athletic with long jet-black hair almost to her waist. She was an instant winner.
But now, an interloper, an unapproved woman, was to be let in. The group chaffed, but upon the wedding day, they were all there for the small ceremony, with Rob, Tom and Chris all serving as Best Men. The brief ceremony went smoothly and after it was over the real shock began to set in. The problem was the bride, Carla.
Carla was a petite blonde and certainly beautiful. Her tanned, well-muscled body was dramatically outlined in the short, tight fitting wedding dress. She appeared to all to be a woman who spent a great time in the gym, working on a spectacular body. She had large breasts for so slim a woman that the wives instantly nodded in agreement to each other - “boob job.” No, the problem with Carla was not looks. She had plenty of them. The problem was her age. She was at least twenty years older than Bret and the rest. Clearly in her mid-forties, there was no way this woman was going to fit into the group, all the women agreed.
Introductions were cool, at best. Carla was a successful attorney in town and she was bright and articulate. And she and Bret were obviously head-over-heels in love with each other. Like it or not, Rob Tom and Chris and their wives, were sure that this was the death knell for the Four Musketeers.
And for two months, it certainly appeared that way. Not a sound was heard from Bret and his bride, Carla. So when his invitation to host their weekly poker night at his house came, there was hope after all.
And it was great!! The four guys together again. Beer. Cigars. And poker. It was just like the great college days, the old days. Carla was working late at her office, so the chips flew and laughter rocked the house.
It was only when Tom went to take a piss, that the laughter came to a halt. Tom went down the hall to the toilet, and just as he was about to duck into the john, he noticed that the door to the Mystery Room was ajar. The two massive hasps on the door hung empty, free of the giant padlocks that were there earlier on move-in day.
Curious, Tom quietly pushed the door open and stepped in the darkened room. Groping for the light switch, he soon found it and dim, amber lights came on. Tom couldn’t believe his eyes.
“HOLY SHIT!” Tom said aloud.
He was standing in the middle of some kind of torture chamber, a kind of medieval dungeon. Manacles and whips hung on walls all around the room. Harnesses dangled from chains hooked to the ceiling. Several leather covered horse-type apparatuses were located around the room. On the walls, interspersed among the hanging whips were dildos of every shape and color, spreader bars, gags, blindfolds and things Tom couldn’t even identify, even if he had wanted to.
He turned the lights off, dashed out and after a quick trip to the toilet, returned to the game.
“Damn, that was the longest piss in history. Come on, you’re holding up the game,” one of them said.
Tom sat down quietly and stared directly at Bret.
“So, do you have something you want to tell us?” Tom asked. There was a long silence as Bret sat totally confused. And then Tom said, now bragging to the others, “I’ve just been into the Mystery Room.”
Stunned and embarrassed, Bret agreed to talk, knowing that there had never been any real secrets between them and never should be.
“First let me tell you the story behind the room before Rob and Chris see it,” said Bret.
He went on to explain that he had taken it upon himself to track down the previous owner, since the real estate agent had come up emptied handed. Soon he uncovered the name and wrote to the man. Weeks went by and nothing. Then, a letter arrived with a key inside. The letter was from the previous owner. He explained that he had indeed owned the house previously and, it turned out was a retired electrical engineer. He was ecstatic that another engineer now owned the house. He and his wife were an elderly couple and that the room with the locks was their private play room. They had entertained in the room and shared pleasures with each other and with people in the town and beyond. But when his wife died suddenly and prematurely, he was so crushed by the loss that he locked the room and sold the house.
The letter went on to say that the enclosed keys would unlock the room and that Bret was free to keep or destroy anything in the room. It was his now. The old man wanted nothing to do with it.
The room fell silent after Bret had relayed the story of the Mystery Room.
“Well, hell, let’s go see it,” said Rob and they all hurried down the hall.
They stood in the room, the three of them taking in the equipment and devices encircling them. A punishment chair sat in one corner, a type of swing hanging in another. The three were literally speechless as not one of them dared to ask the question that was really on their minds – did Bret ever use any of this stuff? It went unasked.
They all returned to the poker table and were beginning to get refocused on the game when Carla came home. She kissed Bret and then pecked each of the others on the cheeks and was about to go upstairs to change clothes when Bret spoke.
“Did you know that you left the room unlocked? Did you know that Rob, Tom and Chris have been inside? Do you know what that means?” Bret asked ominously.
The stunning older woman gave a slight nod of her head, and turned. Head bowed, she left the room.
“Okay, who’s bet,” Bret bubbled, as if the last awkward minute had never existed. Play resumed for the next five minutes until a large gasp stopped the game. Rob had been facing the door when Carla reentered the room. It was his gasp that caused all heads to turn.
Carla was standing in the room dressed in a long black leather corset, black stockings and black patent four-inch high heels. Her blonde hair was pulled tightly back into a long ponytail and she wore a black leather collar with a large chrome ring in the front. But the men’s eyes were on neither the collar nor the ponytail. The leather corset Carla was wearing came up just under her jutting breasts, leaving her magnificent tits bare. The boning of the corset pushed up in the center of her chest, separating her breasts and forming a pair of U shaped cutouts underneath them.
The other focal point was at the bottom of the corset. The corset was cinched extremely tight, and her rounded hips flared in contrast. Carla’s shaved, naked cunt was totally exposed, there for all to behold, with a small gold ring dangling from a piercing in her right vaginal lip.
“Oh my God!” one of the men exhaled in a barely audible whisper.
“You go to the room. We’ll follow,” Bret ordered and Carla turned and walked slowly down the hall toward The Room. “One for all and all for one,” Bret said grinning. “Leave now or forever hold you peace.” No one left. Bret smiled, stood and followed Carla out. The three men were confused, but eagerly followed close behind, watching the vision of Carla’s exquisite ass wriggle down the hall.
Inside the room, Carla immediately went over and stood beneath a dangling harness hanging from a slotted track mounted to the ceiling. She reached her hands up and Bret snapped her wrist into the manacles of the harness.
“You guys wanna help?” Bret asked.
“Sure!” came the unanimous, resounding reply.
“Lift her legs up and put her in those ankle straps,” Bret instructed
Eagerly the men lifted the petite blonde, and secured her ankles, leaving her hanging facing the ceiling, suspended about five feet above the floor, her legs spread wide apart. Bret finished the job by attaching the waistband of the harness around Carla corseted waist and hooking the attached chain to the cradle mounted on the track.
