Strike Three Novels & Stories

I can now overwhelm him with point-earning strikes in the next round. Just three clean hits, and I’m going to the finals. I’m almost there, I can taste it…

“Now, the third. This will be different.” The third strike was not a crack, but a slow, deliberate drag of the leather tip down the length of her spine, followed by a swift, sharp tap at the base. The combination, the teasing drag, and the sudden sting, sent a jolt through her that was not purely pain. It was… electric. A strange, tingling warmth began to mix with the burn. “Report.” “It… it changed,” she breathed. “The pain… it’s turning into… something else.”

'As it is, most of you, if not all, have just one strike left and note this,' she looked extremely serious all of a sudden, making a hush fall over the assembly of Squads. 'Whichever team looses all their strikes now will make their way to Consellor Chance.' Her eyes narrowed oddly. 'And trust me, you do not want to meet him!' she concluded firmly as she put on an air of indifference again. 'I'd advise you give this your best shot. This a new level of opening to you. Those who win get a star. If you can accumulate three you'll go home. The winners would get their first star here. And the losers would loose their last strike here,' she finished as she stepped back a little. 'Goodluck,' Riz br

Just a few things that drive me crazy about you, Reena. He swallowed. “Yeah, OK.” “So, my friend told me about the Big Three. We each get three free passes for annoying stuff that we do. The other person announces that it drives them batty, and then can’t say one more word about those three things, no matter what.” “I don’t get it.”

All I needed was a hard line drive into the outfield for a chance to send my teammate on third home to score, but I was now down to my last strike. I briefly looked up into the stands and was met by those radiant emerald green eyes. My girl. My love. It was as if the entire stadium fell silent in those mere seconds. All I could hear was the sound of my own beating heart, and all I could see was the confident expression on her face that reassured me that I could do this. I dug into the dirt and took my stance. The pitcher released the ball, and my whole body grew tense. I swung. CRACK!!!!

The third strike landed right across both cheeks, harder than the first two, and the pain-pleasure of it made my cock leak even more. "Three," I moaned. "Good boy," he praised, his hand rubbing over the warm skin soothingly. "You took that so well. I'm so proud of you."

A hidden mechanism clicked. The floor trembled. A section of the stone wall slowly slid open. Beyond it lay another chamber. Smaller. Untouched by time. In its center stood a stone pedestal. Upon it rested a single wooden box. Beauty approached cautiously. The moment her fingers touched the lid... It opened by itself. Inside lay three objects. A silver dagger. An old family seal. And another letter. This one bore only three words. For My Granddaughter. Beauty's hands trembled. She unfolded it carefully.

Third-Person Point of View Domenico had been dreaming of Valentina for days. In every dream, she was lying on the ground, covered in blood. He saw Magno kicking her in the stomach over and over, saw her pale, weak face, and heard her whisper his name before she passed out. He would always wake up drenched in sweat and reach for his phone without thinking. When he opened their chat, the last message was still the video she sent him the day she went to the famiglia's office.

’ She was so angry that she moved to get off the bed, ‘That’s two strikes.’ He told her softly, smirking, and, just as he knew it would, it inflamed her anger. ‘Don’t you dare fucking patronise me, Maverick.’ She stood up in front of him, poking him in the chest, looking up into his deep navy eyes, and he smiled. ‘Strike three, baby, thank you.’ He saw the confusion in her eyes, and then she gasped as he grabbed her around the waist and flipped her over his knee.