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Slave Wager

By: Seattle Zack



Furiously, she stared at the short, buxom blonde fastened to the post on the other side of the game board. What could Master even want with a little slut like that? There was no need for another slave in the house, even if it was just for a weekend. She squirmed angrily, her hands held over her head by the steel restraints.

Master and his opponent were both seated at the chessboard between the two chained, naked girls. Master moved one of the black pieces to a central square, studying the board intently. The tall brunette mistress immediately captured the piece with one of her own. Master sipped at his drink as he considered his next move.

Robin and the other slave had both been commanded to silence. It was infuriating, not being allowed to speak, but she knew she would be disciplined if she dared to utter even a word. The metal cuffs, closely grasping her small wrists, were attached to the post above her head. Already, it had been more than an hour that she had been forced to stand there, confined against the wooden beam, and her arms were beginning to ache from the position she was compelled to maintain. 

Master's opponent, the mistress named Victoria, was a tall, voluptuous brunette with curly hair, olive skin, and dark, slanted eyes. Robin shivered. Evil eyes. The woman looked so elegant, sitting there with her purple velvety dress and high boots. Dozens of bracelets adorned her wrists, and they made a noise every time she moved. Robin shifted uneasily again, rather ashamed of her nudity. It was very hard to appear sophisticated, naked and chained to a post! She knew she looked like what she was, a slave girl, just a meaningless little pleasure slut. 

She didn't play chess, but she understood enough about the game to tell that Master was having a difficult time. Already, he had lost one of his little castle pieces, and both horses, as well as several pawns. The mistress, playing white, had only lost a castle, one of her pointy-headed pieces, and three pawns. A prickle of apprehension went through her restrained body as she considered what might happen if Master lost; she glanced fearfully at the brunette mistress, leaning back in her chair, a slight smile on her lips.

At a play party the week before, Master had first met the dark haired mistress Victoria; Robin could tell immediately that he was intrigued. Apparently, she had just moved to the area from California. Master had spent most of the evening talking with her, laughing and exchanging jokes, while Robin knelt by his chair, annoyed. She remembered watching enviously as other slave girls were bound and played with, tied and teased for the amusement of the party guests. Master had hardly paid her any attention the entire evening!

He was in a very good mood as he drove home from the party that night. "She plays chess," he had confided to Robin, a sparkle in his eye. "She's coming over next week for dinner, and we're going to play a game or two."

At that time, Robin had no idea of the stakes of the game, or how it might affect her. Master loved games: chess, backgammon, poker, dominoes, anything with cards or dice, chance or luck. He gambled frequently; Robin relished the twice-yearly trips to Vegas, spending time with him in the casino and watching all the people. He was so smart! He knew all the rules, and he knew the exact odds of winning each game. An avid chess player, he had won several local tournaments, and was regarded as quite skilled. He was also very competitive, and never backed down from a challenge. Robin shuddered again. Although she loved the fiery, aggressive side of his personality, she wished he had not accepted Victoria's terms for the match.

Victoria moved her large white queen out to the middle of the board, and Master moved another piece to block the line of attack. Robin could see that the white pieces controlled most of the board; Master seemed to be playing defensively, trying to withstand the assault. She glanced at the other slave, chained to the post across the board. The little blonde smirked at her, then stuck out her tongue. Little bitch! Robin glared away angrily, trepidation stirring in her belly. Master had to win!

A thin, pretty redhead, Robin stood a little under five and a half feet tall. Large protruding nipples accentuated her small breasts; exposed to the air, they were stiff and hard, little brown pencil erasers. Master was very proud of her, and enjoyed the compliments he received about his beautiful auburn-haired slave girl. How could he do this to her? Didn't he love her?

She loved Master, loved him with an all-consuming passion that she would have never thought possible. He completely controlled her, forcing her body to experience things that she hadn't dreamed of. Even the sound of his voice made her wet. Obeying his commands and serving his pleasure brought such an indescribable thrill of excitement that she sometimes wanted to scream from the emotions welling inside her. It was a dark, turbulent whirlwind that enveloped her and threatened to sweep her away. The smallest thing, like kneeling on the floor as she waited for him to return from the store, aroused her incredibly.

She especially loved it when he bound or restrained her, the ropes and metal placed on her body emphasizing the hold he had over her. Even more powerful, he controlled her mind; she was positive he always knew what she was thinking or feeling, and she had long ago given up any notions of hiding anything from him. He could tell immediately. He knew, surely, that she didn't want to leave him, if only for a weekend; yet, he had decided to play this stupid game and risk losing her. Her will meant nothing to him. A possession was what she was; a cherished, treasured possession, it was true, but only one of his many toys. She squirmed again, knowing that being owned by him so totally was what she desperately craved and desired.

Robin and the large-breasted blonde were the prizes in the game going on in front of them. If Master won, he would get to keep the other girl for the weekend; if Victoria won, Robin would be her prize. Having never been with a woman, let alone dominated by one, Robin was very nervous. Who knew what might await her if Master lost the game? He had to win!

As the chess match continued, it became apparent that Victoria was steadily gaining the upper hand. Master lost several more pieces, forced to defend himself against the relentless attacks of the white army. Finally, he shook his head, and ruefully asked, "Mate in four, isn't it?" He tipped his king, conceding the game.

Robin was shocked, staring at the little piece rolling on its side on the checkered squares. A squeamish tentacle of fear curled its way up her spine. She tugged futilely against the metal restraints holding her in position. The post was firm against her back, her body stretched and displayed. She felt so helpless! 

Victoria stood up and shook hands with Master, thanking him for the game. "I'm hosting a party this weekend," she told him. "Your little redhead will be one of the attractions. I'd be delighted if you could make it."

"I'll see what I can do," replied Master, somewhat gruffly. Robin knew he was annoyed at having lost the game, perhaps more annoyed than losing her for the weekend. This wasn't supposed to happen! How could Master just gamble her away like this? She looked at him wildly, then at Victoria. 

The dark haired mistress stepped in front of Robin, gently caressing her cheek. "I'll enjoy playing with you, my little pretty," she said softly. "We'll have some fun, won't we?"

Trying to meet her gaze, Robin trembled. "Yes, Mistress," she whispered, terrified. 

At the front door, Master helped her on with her full-length coat. Other than his metal collar locked around her throat, she was naked underneath. Tears running down her face, she looked at him. "Please, Master," she begged. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Of course you can, slave," he said, tenderly wiping her cheek. "It's what I want. I have to pay my debt, she won the wager. It was the decision I made. You do want to please me, don't you?"

"Yes, Master," she answered miserably, "you know I do."

"Then you'll do this, for no other reason than I told you to." He kissed her on the forehead. "I'll come and get you Monday. Obey her as you would obey me."

Mistress Victoria had a large, sprawling house in the foothills outside of the city. There was an amazing array of bondage furniture in the main room, all dark wood and padded leather. Robin shivered, looking at the large sinister X-cross, the spanking benches, the array of whips and paddles on the wall. She knew that Victoria was a professional mistress, and men paid quite well to undergo her particular ministrations of discipline and humiliation. She also knew that, sexually, Victoria preferred women; in fact, the buxom blonde (enigmatically called "M") was Victoria's personal slave.

Robin was commanded to kneel in the middle of the large Oriental rug that covered most of the floor. The blonde slave M tied her hands together tightly behind her back. "You'll be pleasuring the Mistress tonight," she whispered in Robin's ear. "Be sure you do a good job, or you'll be severely punished."

Heart racing, Robin tugged at the tight cords holding her wrists together. How was she supposed to do this? Apprehensively she knelt there for more than an hour, alone in the room. Feeling very small and female, she fearfully looked at the diabolical toys and furniture around her.

Robin gasped as Mistress Victoria entered the room. Her only garment was a pair of high-heeled boots, glossy black, which came up to mid-thigh. She was an incredibly beautiful woman. Victoria twirled slowly in front of the kneeling slave girl, enjoying the attention. 

She strolled gracefully to a high armchair, almost a throne, in the corner of the room. "Get over here," she commanded imperiously, pointing at a spot on the floor. Clumsily, with her hands bound, Robin scrambled to the spot that the mistress had indicated. Her fear and anxiety were, inexplicably, arousing her; she felt the tingling heat and dampness between her legs as she moved. She saw that M had also entered the room, standing in the corner with her arms crossed, a small smile on her face.

"Lick my boot, slut," Victoria said, stretching her long, graceful leg in front of her. Desperately, Robin bent down and began to run her tongue over the shiny, cool surface. She felt so humiliated, awkwardly kneeling naked on the floor in front of this elegant, stunning woman.

"Slower," Victoria ordered sternly. "More sensuously. Use your lips, take your time. I like to watch your mouth."

Closing her eyes, Robin licked and kissed at the smooth vinyl, feeling the curves of Victoria's foot and ankle underneath. It was such a submissive posture, on her knees with her ass in the air, licking this woman's booted foot, and she felt another embarrassing tickle of excitement between her thighs. How could this be turning her on? Slowly she licked her way up the other woman's calf and leg, getting ever closer to the tanned, exciting curve of her upper thigh. Robin could tell the mistress was getting aroused. The excitement churned inside her; suddenly eager, she continued her efforts, longing to taste this exquisite, beautiful female. 

Victoria chuckled. "My, you're enjoying this after all," she said softly. She stretched her other leg out so she was sitting spread-legged in the chair. "Now, the other one."

Robin bent down again and slowly ran her tongue across the slick black surface. The feel of the woman's body beneath the smooth dark vinyl was intoxicating. Her lips and mouth, the only point of contact, became her erogenous zone; pleasure raced through her tingling body. Robin worked her way up the curved expanse of Victoria's leg and thigh. Submissively she looked up, meeting the mistress' eyes, her lips and tongue pressed to the sleek blackness.

Victoria moved forward on the chair, the hot wet folds of her open and accessible. Robin licked and teased the warm, smooth skin of Victoria's inner thigh, marveling at the sensation. Gently biting and nibbling, she edged closer, the musky, aroused scent of the other woman's excitement enveloping her. Teasingly, she licked softly, using her warm breath and closeness to arouse Victoria even further. 

"Oh, God, yes," Victoria moaned, her hands in Robin's hair, pulling her head forward. Robin began licking at the moist, female crevices, using her lips, her mouth, her teeth. A surge of power coursed through her and she suddenly had a sense of what Master must feel when he did this to her. She wanted to tease and arouse this woman, make the sensations build inside her until she could barely stand it. Gently kissing and licking Victoria's swollen clit, she pulled it delicately into her mouth, feeling the other woman twitch involuntarily.

"Fuck, yes!" Victoria gasped. "Fuck me with your tongue, slut! Fuck me!" Robin felt the other woman's hands tighten in her red hair as she was pulled even further forward, her face buried between the other woman's tanned, beautiful legs. She began plunging her tongue into Victoria's tight, swollen fissure. Robin felt her own orgasm approaching and her fists clenched, bound behind her. Continuing to arouse the other woman, barely able to breathe, she desperately shoved her tongue deeper, hearing the cries of pleasure from above her, until Victoria climaxed explosively. Her fists clamped in Robin's hair as her entire body shook; she twisted on the chair, holding Robin's mouth and tongue against her, as she shuddered uncontrollably.

Finally, the tight hold on Robin's hair released and she fell back, her face and mouth drenched from her exertions. Her thighs were wet from her own excitement; she was unbelievably turned on. Futilely she squirmed in the tight ropes, wishing she could touch herself. She wanted to come so badly it was almost painful. Helplessly she looked up at the mistress, seeing her reclined on the chair, eyes half closed.

Victoria opened her eyes and looked down at the redheaded slave girl on the floor. "Very nice," she said, a smile on her face. "Your master told me you'd never been with another woman. I'm impressed."

Robin struggled to her knees, her hands twisting in the restraints. "Please, Mistress," she stammered, "please untie me. Please, can I come now?"

Victoria's blue eyes flashed ice cold. "No, you may not. You're here for my pleasure, not yours." She stood up. "Insolent bitch. Turn around, and put your face on the floor, your ass in the air."

With fear in her belly, Robin did as she had been commanded, her cheek against the braided surface of the rug. She closed her eyes as she felt the leather blade of a riding crop caress the back of her thighs. 

"Open your legs, slut," Victoria ordered from behind her.

The crop slapped menacingly between Robin's spread thighs, and she trembled. Her excitement and arousal were quite obvious. She squirmed helplessly, knowing how her body was betraying her. 

The long-handled disciplinary device hissed and cracked down against the curved surface of her ass, the hot burst of pain tearing through her. She gasped in agony as another impact painfully seared her exposed skin. Quickly and brutally, Victoria punished her with the crop, branding her repeatedly with fierce strokes of the flat leather blade. Finally, Robin fell to her side, unable to take any more, her ass and legs on fire. "Please, Mistress!"

Mercifully, Victoria desisted. She pushed her helpless captive over with a booted foot, the point of the high heel on her chest. The riding crop stung Robin's face and she cried out, turning her head to the side.

"Who is the Mistress?" demanded Victoria, the sharp point of her heel pressing into Robin's soft flesh.

"You are, Mistress!" cried Robin fearfully, wincing.

"Who is the slave?"

"I am, Mistress!" Robin wept. "Please forgive me, Mistress!"

Victoria stepped back. "M, take this one to her kennel," she commanded. "Cuff her hands together outside the bars. I don't want her playing with herself tonight."

"Yes, Mistress," said the naked blonde. She crouched down and clipped a leash to Robin's collar. "Stand up, slut. Follow me."

Awkwardly, Robin staggered to her feet, tears running down her face. The welts from the riding crop still stung terribly, and heat emanated from her ass and the backs of her thighs. The blonde tugged on the leash and led her from the room.

Thankfully, the small cage was carpeted, and lengthy enough to lay down flat. Robin twisted around, her backside still burning from the kiss of the crop. Small steel restraints tightly clasped her slim wrists, holding them together outside of the cage. At least M had thrown a blanket over her before leaving the room. The cage was tiny, only about two feet wide. Robin hated being confined, and she fought the claustrophobia welling inside her. It was impossible to sleep. The smell and taste of the mistress was still evident on her face, and the maddening, throbbing desire pulsing between her legs would not go away. 

It had been hours since she had been left like this. She missed Master desperately, longed to feel his warm hands on her body, to hear his voice. Although he occasionally chained her to the foot of the bed as a disciplinary measure, he generally allowed her to sleep with him, his large form and strong arms holding her as she slept. Because of his stupid game, here she was, sleeping on the floor, confined in a cage like a pretty little animal. She wanted to scream out with rage. How could he have done this to her?

The door opened and the short, busty slave M entered, carrying a candle. She crouched down beside the cage, the light flickering over the curves of her naked body. "You'd better get some sleep," she told Robin softly. "There's lots of work to do tomorrow. Mistress is having a party."

"I know," whispered Robin, shifting position nervously. "What did she mean when she told Master I would be one of the attractions?"

The blonde smiled. "You'll find out." She reached between the bars, underneath the blanket, running her hand up and down Robin's naked torso. "You have such soft, smooth skin," she whispered huskily.

"Oh," gasped Robin, flinching, the slight contact making her body flush with arousal again, her need and desire surging within her. M teased and pinched Robin's nipples gently and they stiffened immediately. She tickled Robin's belly lightly, making her twitch involuntarily. Her hand crept lower, feeling the heat of Robin's excitement.

"Oh, yes. Oh my God. Please," Robin groaned almost incoherently, rolling to her back, eagerly spreading her thighs, as the other girl delicately felt between her legs. The gentle, tantalizing touch was almost painful. The stimulation danced through her, making her toes curl. M maddeningly stroked her with exquisite softness, her fingertips barely grazing Robin's swollen hot flesh. 

The blonde chuckled. "This is torture, isn't it?" she whispered teasingly, continuing her gentle, infuriating caresses. "I bet you're about ready to explode . . . this must be driving you insane."

"Yes! Please! Please!" Robin begged wildly, lifting her hips, trying desperately for some slight increase in pressure. So close! She cried out in disappointment as M pulled her hand away.

"Naughty slut," chided the blonde playfully, "you know you're not allowed to come. You can watch me, however." She placed the candle on the floor and knelt by the cage, her legs spread wide. Her eyes locked with Robin's as she began to masturbate, rubbing her clit with firm, circular motions, her other hand pinching her nipples.

Helplessly, Robin was forced to watch the blonde slave outside the cage bring herself to orgasm. Within a few moments, eyes closed, her heavy breasts bouncing, M gasped and shuddered, the spasms coursing through her body. Robin clenched her fists, the intense craving pulsing inside her. She wanted to weep with frustration.


Slave Wager: Poker Party



This story is not really a sequel, although it features the same characters as my original Slave Wager story. If you have any comments about it, please send feedback -- and don't forget to vote! Thanks! --Z

Robin could tell he was tense, impassively slouching in his leather chair. Vivaldi was playing – one of his favorite pieces – yet he sat there, unmoving, his jaw a firm line. She was kneeling in the corner on her cushion, pretending to read. He hadn’t stirred in half an hour. 

She set down the book and crawled across the floor, kneeling next to his chair. “Master? What is it?” she whispered. “This isn’t like you.”

Her touch seemed to snap him out of his reverie. “It’s the game tonight,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Just thinking about DaVinci’s, some of the bad plays I made last week.” DaVinci’s was a nearby cardroom where Master often played poker.

“You can tell me about it, you know,” she said softly.

“It’s this guy Theo,” he said, sighing. “Got inside my head last week, I made some stupid bets. Bluffed when I shouldn’t have a couple of times. Took me for about four grand.”

“Will he be here tonight?” 

He grunted. “Yes, he’ll be here. I’m going to get him at his own game, though.” He chuckled.

Much of Robin’s day had been spent preparing for the poker party Master was hosting that night. The heavy felt-lined oak table was set up in the basement, and the liquor cabinet had been fully stocked. As a slave, Robin would be expected to serve the drinks and food and, she assumed, generally stay out of the way. 

“We’re playing seven stud tonight,” he continued. “Five grand buy in. One of the other guys may get lucky, but it’s that fucker Theo I want to beat.”

Robin knew how he loved to gamble, but it still seemed like an awful lot of money to her. Master was rich, she knew that, but she had no idea what five thousand dollars meant to him. It was a strange thought; money hardly had any significance to her anymore. Whatever he decided she needed, he bought. As his slave she could not own anything, of course; rather, it was she that was owned. He paid for everything. She knew that he had some sort of fund set up so that she would be provided for, in the event that he died or became incapacitated, but she had simply refused to hear the details. “I trust you,” she had told him. “You know what’s best.”

“I hope you win,” she whispered. “Whatever I can do to help.”

He looked down at her, taking in the sweet curves of her naked body. She knelt back on her heels, spreading her legs, displaying herself for him. God, she was hot and ready already! He had conditioned her so well that her responses were almost instantaneous anymore. She looked up at him, pleading with her eyes.

Standing, he reached down and grabbed her by the hair, pushing her rather roughly over the arm of the chair. A thrill coursed through her, another surge of wetness flooding between her legs as she heard him unbuckle his belt. She groaned as he lifted her hips slightly, entering her easily. His hand was on the back of her neck, holding her facedown against the leather seat cushion.

“Please, Master,” she gasped, trembling.

“Quiet, girl,” he said absently, thrusting into her. She bit her lip, trying to keep silent.

He often did this with her, using her body as a distraction, while he thought of something else. Clenching her fists, she could smell the seat cushion against her face. The aromatic leather was especially arousing to her, and she struggled to remain still. His tempo increased, making her toes curl involuntarily against the carpet.

Breathing heavily, he grabbed her hips with both hands, pounding into her. She whimpered, unable to remain quiet any longer, her need overtaking her. “All right, girl,” he grunted, giving her permission; she climaxed explosively as she felt him release inside of her. Her nails clawed against the slick leather as he pinned her down firmly. She was still shuddering and twitching as he pulled out, sprawled limply over the arm of the chair.

Shakily she stood up, then turned and melted into his arms, kissing him deeply. “Thank you,” she whispered.

She yelped as he smacked her on the ass, causing a good hard sting. “You’d better get a move on, wench,” he said, laughing. “They’ll be here in a couple of hours.”

“Yes, Master,” she breathed, thrilled at the feeling of his arms around her. She laid her head against his chest. “You’ll all be smoking cigars and drinking all night,” she said with mock petulance. “You probably won’t have any time for me.”

A little smile played at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I get the feeling you may well end up being the star attraction, my little slave.” There was a devilish glint in his green eyes.

Upstairs in the bath, she carefully shaved her legs and the tickling new growth on the mound between her legs. She smiled; of course, Master thought she’d be the center of attention. A little tingle danced through her, making her shiver. She loved it, no question: being his property, so unabashedly owned, gave her a freedom she never could have imagined.

Her fingers went to the collar around her neck, the smooth circular band of metal that proclaimed her as his. It had not been removed since that day, more than two years ago, when he had locked it on her. Now, she couldn’t imagine being without it; the collar had become such a natural part of her that she was hardly aware of it anymore. She would feel naked without her collar. Remembering that definitive little click of the lock as she knelt before him looking into his eyes, she felt a warm rush of sensation between her legs and her clit began to throb. Better get a move on, she told herself sharply. Can’t lounge around in the tub all day fantasizing!

Laying her new outfit on the bed, she shook her head. She had no idea where he found some of the things he gave to her so casually. The fishnet stockings came halfway up her thighs, with a thick elastic band at the top. The frilly, ruffled black skirt was tiny, barely covering her butt. The tank-style top was fashioned from a thin mesh, her breasts clearly visible through it. As she pulled the top over her head her nipples stiffened instantly as they brushed against the mesh fabric. Oh God, she thought. I’m sure they’ll be like that all night. That was undoubtedly what he had in mind when he picked it out.

After buckling small leather cuffs around her wrists she twirled in front of the mirror. She looked like some sort of whorish maid. The skirt was very short; she tugged it down, but it left no room for modesty. She knew how proud Master was of her, and how he enjoyed showing her off. The other men would have plenty to stare at, no question about it. She felt almost more than naked in the slutty getup, her ass peeking out from behind and her nipples protruding visibly.

She swept her auburn hair up and pinned it in place, accentuating her slender neck and the collar locked around it. Turning sideways, she admired her profile. She wished her breasts were bigger. With her lithe frame and large nipples, she always felt that her tiny breasts were her worst feature. Once, she had even dared to bring up the subject of getting them enlarged. Master would near nothing of it, of course. “I love you the way you are,” he had said, and the subject had never been broached again.


The new shoes had high four-inch heels, and she wobbled uncertainly as she walked tentatively around the room. She’d have to be careful, especially going up and down the stairs. After applying her makeup, overdoing it a bit, she went downstairs for Master’s inspection.

He was pleased; she could tell immediately by his expression. In the heels, they were nearly the same height. Her calves and thighs were taut, and she had to resist the urge to reach back and cover the exposed curve of her ass as she walked.

Enjoying the attention, she turned slowly in front of him. “You like?” she asked flirtatiously. She never would have been able to wear something like this before meeting him; now, it seemed as natural as an evening gown. Whatever he wanted, she would do -- if he had asked her to serve the party nude, she would have agreed without a second thought.

As she helped him dress, she selected a green silk shirt that he liked to wear on his Vegas trips. “The color of money,” he said with a smile. She trembled a little. He looked and smelled so good, masculine and powerful, with his strong features and wide shoulders. Dressed as she was, she could feel herself getting aroused already; she wanted him to throw her on the bed and take her again, ruthlessly, her high-heeled shoes in the air. What a slut he had turned her into!

He introduced each of the other players as they arrived, although Robin was sure she’d forget their names almost immediately. Peter was a tall, bespectacled man with a receding hairline: probably a banker or something, she guessed. Dan had short dark hair and a muscular build: stocky, like a bodybuilder. Raphael was well dressed, affecting an air of elegance; he kissed her hand graciously, as if she weren't the half-naked tart she appeared. Tony was a big man, balding, with a full beard and the odor of liquor on his breath.

They settled into the main room, tossing insults back and forth. Master had said that these were some of the best local players, but she wouldn’t have guessed it by looking at them. A baseball game was on the TV, and a couple of the men immediately began making bets on whether the next batter would strike out or not. Robin brought each man a drink – scotch, in most cases, beer for Master and club soda for the bodybuilder. They devoured the food laid out on the side table like a pack of hungry wolves, greedily inhaling the beef and ham sandwiches Robin had spent much of the afternoon preparing.

The hot gazes of the men were on her as she entered and left the room, and the tingling excitement grew inside her. Master would be pleased. Obviously, he meant for her presence to be a distraction.

Idly, she wondered how Master had explained their relationship to his friends. They had seemed more surprised by her getup than the metal collar locked around her neck. Men -- probably didn’t even realize I had a head, she thought ruefully. Her body’s responses were hard to deny, though – she enjoyed being forced to portray herself as a plaything, a mere sex toy.

She heard the heavy gait of the men heading down the stairs as she prepared another round of drinks. Robin felt Master’s presence behind her and he reached around her, pulling her close. “Bring down a box of cigars, too,” he murmured, biting and nibbling at her ear.

She leaned back against him, eyes closed. “I’ll never get anything done if you keep that up,” she breathed. He gave her a playful swat on her behind and she giggled, then turned and opened the liquor cabinet.

“These?” she asked, pulling a box out of the humidor.

“Christ, no,” he said. “Those are the Gurkha Cubans. Don’t waste those on this crowd. The Cohibas will be fine.”

Cursing the high heels, she balanced the tray carefully as she descended the stairs into the basement. It was a large, carpeted area with a pool table and several pinball machines. Low hanging lights gave the room a masculine aura. Master was handing out racks of chips, counting each player’s stack of hundred-dollar bills carefully before snapping a rubber band around it and dropping it into a heavy zippered bag. A couple of the men were already seated at the octagonal table. 

The conversation had abruptly halted as soon as she entered the room; she was sure they had been talking about her. She set the tray of drinks and the cigars on a side table, trying not to bend over too much. God, she felt completely displayed in this ridiculous outfit!

“Turn on the game there, would you?” Master asked, not even looking up from the stack of cash he was counting.

Standing on tiptoe, stretching, she could barely reach the knob on the TV hanging from the ceiling rack. Her face flushed hotly as she felt the skirt rise up, exposing her ass completely.  She struggled to press the button with the very tips of her fingers, knowing by the silence in the room that the men seated at the table were all ogling her. Finally the set clicked on and she hurried gratefully from the room, trying not to make eye contact.

The doorbell rang as she got to the top of the stairs. This must be Theo, she thought. Master’s mysterious nemesis.

She opened the door and he took half a step back, his eyes taking her in from head to toe. Without waiting for an invitation he moved past her into the hallway. “You must be Robin,” he said in a deep voice. His yellowed, feral teeth flashed in a quick grin. “Doug talks about you all the time down at the club. I can see why.”

Doug. The name seemed unfamiliar to her; she never called Master that. She shifted a little, uncomfortable under his heavy-lidded gaze.

He was a ponderous, stocky, oily man; his heavy brows, coarse features and thick lips made his head look like it had been chipped out of a block of stone. Thick curly hair sprouted everywhere except on his head, tufts spilling out under the collar and poking through the fabric of the expensive polo shirt stretched across his shoulders and down his back. One of his overstuffed little sausage fingers sported a pinky ring that twinkled with a diamond the size of a marble.

He reached out and fingered her collar. “Nice,” he murmured appreciatively. She tried not to cringe at the slight contact. The tip of his wet, fleshy tongue lolled from the corner of his mouth.

“They’re down there,” she said nervously, pointing. With a low chuckle he turned and moved down the stairs, surprisingly light on his feet for a man of his bulk. Putting a hand on her chest, she could feel her heart pound. She hated anyone touching her collar; he had clearly meant to intimidate her. “Bastard,” she whispered.

In the kitchen, she got out the Jamaican rum to make Theo’s drink. “Rum and coke, heavy on the rum,” he had instructed. She threw in a slice of lime, grimacing at the smell of the alcohol.

Downstairs, the room was already cloudy with cigar smoke. The men were seated at the table, stacking chips and shuffling decks of cards. As she placed the drink in front of Theo, his hand brushed against the back of her thigh and she flinched. She looked at Master, agonized, but he seemed not to have noticed.

“Draw for first deal,” said Master, thumping a deck of cards down in the center of the table. He noticed her hovering by the door and waved his hand. “You can go, girl. Just keep the drinks coming. We’ll have a break in a couple of hours, bring the rest of the sandwiches down then.”

“Good luck,” she whispered, even though he couldn’t hear her. Theo looked up and made eye contact with her; he pursed his thick lips together in an obscene parody of a kiss. Shuddering, she turned and left the room.

Upstairs she poured a glass of wine for herself and relaxed on her small cushion in the corner of the room. She was not allowed to sit on the chairs or sofa without permission. After unbuckling the high heels she slid the tight stockings down a bit, wincing as she rubbed the red marks on her thighs. It felt good to have the tight shoes off and she stretched out, wiggling her toes delightedly.

Already helplessly aroused when the evening started, being displayed in the revealing outfit had gotten her even more excited. She crawled across the room and retrieved a small vibrator from the drawer. Even though she was not allowed to climax without his permission, it still felt so good to touch it between her legs, the gentle buzzing sending delightful warm tendrils curling through her belly. She groaned at the exquisite torture, denying herself the release that she so desperately craved.

Every half-hour or so she would bring more drinks down, clearing away the glasses and emptying the ashtrays. Her eyes stung from the cigar smoke. The men seemed intent on their game, hardly noticing her; the clicking of the clay chips and the snap of the cards were the only sounds in the room other than the occasional curse or insult as a hand ended. Master seemed to be holding his own, from what she could tell by his pile of chips, although two of the other player’s stacks had been seriously depleted. 

Theo seemed to be having the best luck, judging by the amount of chips in front of him. He continually harangued the other players, cackling gleefully as he raked in big pots. Robin could tell Master was upset; his jaw was clenched and he stared at his cards for a long time before betting.

Every time she set his rum drink down on the table Theo would paw at her, grabbing her leg or sliding his hand up the curve of her ass. Although she glared at him angrily, she couldn’t really do anything about it while holding the tray, and Master didn’t seem to notice. The men were getting buzzed, she could tell. Even the bodybuilder had switched to beer.

After two hours, she piled the remaining sandwiches on a tray and carefully made her way down the stairs. Grateful for the break, the men stood, stretching and groaning. Master come over to her and kissed her beerily; he was more than a little drunk.

“How’s it going?” she whispered.

He shrugged. “Could be better. I’m down about a grand.” He glanced over. “Theo’s making a killing.”

“Just relax.” She reached up, running her hands through his thick hair. “You can beat him, I know you can.”

“I own you, you know,” he said, looking down into her eyes.

“Yes, I know, Master.” What was he talking about? Was it just the booze? “Body and soul, you own me.”

“Whose collar is on your neck?”

“Yours, Master” she whispered. She kissed him hard, inhaling his smoky, masculine aroma.

As she turned to go he grabbed her by the wrist. “Wait a minute,” he said with an evil grin. “You’re not going anywhere yet.”

Anxiously, she looked at him. This can’t be good, she thought. Her mind raced; she knew that look. Trepidation whirled inside her.

“Guys!” Master called out. “I know this is my first time hosting … I hope everyone’s having a good time.”

“Strong drinks,” Theo waved his glass, his mouth full. “Always a good sign. Plus, I’m winning.” He laughed.

Master tipped his head, conceding the point. “I wanted to do something a little special for my poker buddies,” he continued. “In fact, I’ve prepared us some halftime entertainment. You’ve all been appreciating my little slut Robin this evening, I can tell from the looks on your faces.”

The men all made appreciative comments, some cruder than others. Standing at Master’s side in the humiliating outfit, Robin looked at the floor, suddenly blushing.

“Have a seat, boys.” Master gestured expansively. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy the show. Time to show you what a little slut she really is.” He pointed. “Crawl up on the table, wench, right in the center.”

Robin gasped, shaking her head. He couldn’t be serious! In the middle of everyone? She had an urge to flee the room but his grip was still tight around her wrist. Heart racing in her chest, she looked slowly around at the other men, then back at him.

He wasn’t joking, she could tell right away. Of course, she had no choice. He released her and she moved over to the table. Trembling from her nervousness, she awkwardly clambered up onto the green felt surface on her knees, careful not to knock over any of the stacks of chips. The other men crowded eagerly around on all sides of her. Frightened, Robin looked back over her shoulder.

Master snapped his fingers. “Knees and elbows, girl. And spread your legs more. Give everyone a good view.”

Robin did he had instructed, her face burning. He knew how she hated the extremely submissive position with her ass in the air. The tiny skirt offered no protection; she was completely exposed and vulnerable, like a living centerpiece. Not only could she sense the men on either side, she could almost feel their drunken lust, and she closed her eyes. She wanted to die.




Slave Wager: Poker Party



“Hold her down there on the table,” Master called out. “This next part might make her struggle a bit.”

Robin felt herself grabbed by her upper arms and just above her knees, the strong hands of the men holding her pinned in position. Keeping her eyes closed, she whimpered. She could feel the throbbing between her legs, in time with the beat of her pounding heart, and hoped her arousal wasn’t obvious.

“Open your eyes, girl.” Master’s voice, from behind her.

Frantically she looked around the table, hardly able to believe the position in which she found herself. The men barely looked human, leering at her with drunken glee, obviously enjoying her distress. Directly in front of her was the loathsome Theo; smirking, he took a drag of his cigar and blew the smoke in her face. She coughed, tears running down her face as she blinked furiously.

“Look what we have for you, slut.” It was Master as he came into view from her left.

She shook her head, unable to speak, recoiling inwardly at the sight of the torpedo-shaped object in his hand. Black and menacing, it was about six inches long with a rubbery, corrugated surface. Involuntarily she struggled a bit, but was held tightly in position.

He grabbed her by the hair. “Open your mouth, wench. Got to lube this up a bit … can’t have you screaming too much.” He chuckled.

Desperately she licked and sucked at the rubbery shaft, shuddering at the oily chemical taste on her tongue. He meant to insert it into her, she had no doubt of that. She quivered, the fear and apprehension churning inside her. Right here in front of all his friends while she was held helplessly in place. Almost gagging from the sour taste of the thing at the back of her throat, she tried to make eye contact with him, wanting to plead or beg for mercy.

“That’ll have to do,” he said, pulling the thick dildo out of her mouth and moving behind her. She twisted her head wildly from side to side but was unable to see him. Her insides tightened, clenching, as she fought against a wave of panic. 

“Please,” she whispered. She stared straight down at the green felt, unable to look at any of the drunken spectators. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment; her face must have been the same color as her auburn hair. She tried to move, even a little, and felt the grip of the men’s hands tighten around her limbs.

“Wait ‘til you see this,” Master said in a confidential tone. “The little slut. She really likes it. You won’t believe your eyes.”

That was the most horrible thing of all – he was right. On some deep level she did like it; she was unbelievably aroused, the heat and wetness in the swollen area between her legs only increasing as she struggled. The humiliation of her predicament, coupled with her vulnerable position, had her on the brink of climax already. All he had to do was touch her and she’d respond uncontrollably, unable to stop herself, and he knew it. The control and authority he had over her responses, over her body, was unbelievable. 

She closed her eyes tightly, tears running down her face, as she felt him probing between her ass cheeks. Thankfully, he had coated the rubbery shaft with some sort of lubricant, in addition to the thin coat of saliva she had been forced to apply; she could feel its coolness against her skin.

“Oh!” she gasped as he grabbed her by the hair, forcing her head back. The collar was tight around her neck. Everyone could see her face; somehow that seemed even more invasive than what he was about to do to her vulnerable body.

He inserted the tip of the dildo between her tightly clenched cheeks and she gritted her teeth, nails digging into the palms of her hands. She tried to will herself to relax, but it was no use. Every muscle seemed to contract involuntarily, and her heart raced as an electric pulse of adrenaline shot through her. Sweat broke out across her face and down the length of her back. The hands holding her in place tightened.

She opened her mouth, struggling not to make a sound, as he firmly and patiently slid the degrading thing in, painfully stretching her. The tears pooled in the corners of her eyes and dripped down her face. She strained to lean forward, somehow escape what she knew was inevitable, but his grip in her hair did not permit it.

Inch by inch he deliberately inserted the slimy rubber missile, taking his time, letting her feel the slow agony as it stretched and filled her even more. She finally let out a long groan, writhing futilely on the table. Her toes curled. With a last little flash of pain it slipped in, her rectal muscles clamping around the smaller flange at the base. She could feel the rounded end protruding from between her cheeks and knew it was clearly visible. Her face burning, she shook her head, trying to force from her mind the image of the men around the table eagerly watching her debasement.

Master released her hair and slapped her on the ass, the impact jolting through her. Panting shallowly, she winced at the feel of the intrusive phallus violating her. Desperately she squirmed, wishing she weren’t in such a vulnerable position.

“God no!” she gasped as she felt his hands between her legs. She was slippery and wet and knew that she would be unable to resist his touch. “Please don’t!” she begged.

Without a word he continued caressing her gently, the tingling warmth spreading through her belly. She flinched and gritted her teeth as he grazed her swollen, sensitive clit. He began spanking her between her legs, gently at first, then increasingly harder. It was too much: the embarrassing position she was in, the presence of the men watching, the degrading object lodged inside her, his torturous stimulation. She climaxed suddenly, explosively, rocking back and forth, powerless against the surges within her. It seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of sensation building and cresting inside her.

The room came back into focus as she slumped on the table, face against the green felt, gulping for breath. Dimly she heard voices, laughter, and became aware that she wasn’t held down any more. She heard Master’s voice behind her.

“All right, slut, you’ve had your fun. We need the table.” Grasping her waist he lifted her easily, setting her on her feet. She staggered and almost fell, reaching behind her as she felt a shock of pain from the intrusive probe still buried inside her. Dazed, she looked around, trembling. Her hair was disheveled, her body covered in sweat. The men were joking and taking their places at the table, acting like nothing had just happened. 

Master clapped his hands. “We need more booze, girl! Can’t play poker without alcohol.” There was a resounding chorus of agreement from behind him. Robin nodded weakly, then turned and stumbled unsteadily toward the door, hearing the chuckles behind her.

Climbing the stairs was especially difficult in the high heels with the shameful butt plug still stuck inside her. She staggered into the kitchen, leaning on the counter for support. Her legs were shaking and she closed her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks. How could he treat her like that! It had been the most degrading experience of her life. Even now, although it had happened only a few minutes ago, she still found it hard to believe. Reaching back, she grimaced as she felt the knob of the fiendish thing still violating her. No, it had been real. It hurt to even walk. How was she supposed to get through the rest of the night?

Carrying the tray down the stairs, she winced with every step. As she entered the room, she shuddered again; just the sight of that green felt was enough to make her tremble. She set the drinks down carefully, her face flushing. The men seemed intent on their cards, however, and barely glanced at her. She couldn’t believe it. After enduring a humiliating ordeal like that, they just ignored her!

As she set Theo’s drink down on the table she felt his hand at her butt. He poked at the little knob between her cheeks, making her yelp in protest. “Just wanted to make sure it was still in there,” he smirked. The rest of the men, even Master, laughed. Her face burned as she gathered up the empty glasses and fled the room.

Upstairs she guzzled another glass of wine, some of it dribbling down her chin. It was going to be a long night. With the men drunk and rowdy, there was no telling what awaited her. She went into the bathroom to wash her face and couldn’t believe her eyes as she looked in the mirror. I look like a street whore that’s just been gangbanged, she thought. After reapplying her makeup she brushed out her dark crimson tresses, leaving it long this time. Her stockings were torn already and she could see bruises beginning to form on her arms and legs.

For the next two hours she continued her painful treks up and down the stairs, resting and drinking more wine in the meantime. It was impossible to sit down, with the awful thing inside her; she had to lie on her belly across the cushion, her butt in the air. She longed to remove it, but knew better than to even ask. The tight stretched muscles around the plug throbbed with a dull ache and she shifted position uncomfortably. Master was more concerned with showing off his slut toy to his buddies than he was with her. At least the wine was helping a little. “If they can get drunk, then I can too!” she announced to the empty room, giggling.

On her next trip downstairs, Master announced, “Time for a break!” when she entered the room. The air was redolent with cigar smoke, sweat, and the stink of booze; she wondered how they could even stand it. She dumped the ashtrays and gathered the empty glasses, aware of the men drunkenly staring at her. Being the center of so much attention was frightening, but strangely exhilarating; she suddenly knew the power she had. The exposure and humiliation had somehow freed her.

Tossing her head defiantly, Robin sauntered across the room; she couldn’t help what she was. An owned slave, she had been commanded to perform, and she had done so. The irritation she had felt earlier faded somewhat. Her will had been surrendered when he locked the collar about her neck. Touching the smooth metal absently with her fingertips, she smiled; she wouldn’t trade the pleasure she received from obeying Master for anything in the world. She bit her lip at the sudden tingling warmth between her legs, then looked around for him.

He was in the corner, rubbing his eyes. She came up to him and caressed his forehead, trying to erase the creases. “How are you doing?” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Not so well. Theo and Raph are making out like bandits. Tony’s holding his own, but the other two will be out soon. Even when I have the cards, I can’t seem to make a play!”

“You need to relax. You’re letting them get to you, even I can see that.” She glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one was nearby. “I could tell you were nervous, last time I was down here. You were twisting the cigar band, playing with it … I’ve seen you do that before, when you have money on a ball game.”

He looked at her, his green eyes suddenly intent. “What did you say?” he asked in a low voice.

“You were … Ouch!” She gasped in surprise as he grabbed her firmly by the upper arms.

“That’s it! Why couldn’t I see it?” he whispered fiercely. He kissed her on the forehead. “Robin, you’re wonderful. Damn, I love you sometimes. You could see it, even when I couldn’t … girl, I owe you a backrub tonight!” He laughed, then roughly pushed her aside and went back to the table.

“I should fucking hope so,” she muttered, rubbing her arm. She shook her head, unsure what he had even meant.

When she returned with fresh drinks there was an air of expectation in the room. Everyone was quiet, watching her. Quietly she placed the drinks on the table, her heart pounding. A hollow formed in the pit of her stomach. Oh no. What now?

“Set the tray down,” Master commanded. He pulled a chair from the wall out into the center of the room, facing away from the table. “Come over here.”

Apprehension churned inside her. “Yes sir?” she asked anxiously.

“Bend over the back of the chair.” He pointed. “Reach down and grab the front of the cushion.”

The ruffled skirt flopped up, exposing her completely, as she obeyed. As she stretched the muscles tightened in her ass and thighs.

“Spread you legs for us, slut. Wider.”

Awkwardly she did so, blushing, glad that no one could see her face. The cool air tingled against her skin and she could feel the knob of the rubbery plug protruding obscenely from between her spread cheeks.

“Nice view.”

“Hot little piece of ass there, Doug.”

“Fuckin’ whore,” another voice agreed.

After a few more chuckles and comments she heard the sound of the cards as the next hand was dealt. The men began making bets, chips clinking as they were thrown into the pot. Her fists clenched. She had not been given permission to move – apparently she was to remain in place, exhibited for their amusement. The vulnerability of her position increased her agitation; she longed to close her legs, hoping her excitement wasn’t obvious. A little whimper arose inside her and she clamped her mouth shut, trying to remain still.

It seemed like hours that she remained there, bent over and displayed. The taut muscles in her calves and thighs trembled. Face flushing hotly, she imagined how she must look with her torn stockings, legs spread, the thick plug violating her most intimate orifice. Her clit tingled and she shifted position slightly, wishing she could move. He controlled her so absolutely – surely, he knew how this aroused her. Minute after minute dragged by, and she closed her eyes. How long could this go on? She gasped and jerked in surprise as she felt Master’s hand on her back.

“I want this to be a party you’ll remember,” he announced to the other players. “And I’m sure you’ve all been admiring my little piece of slutmeat.” He felt between her legs, making her squirm as the sudden jolt of arousal pounded through her. She could tell he was more than a little drunk by the sound of his voice.

“So, to the winner tonight – the one who ends up with the most chips – I’m awarding the use of my fucktoy.” Robin gasped, hardly able to believe her ears. He couldn’t be serious! She struggled a bit, head down, his hand firm on her back.

“I have several spare bedrooms, you’re welcome to stay the night. She’ll do anything you want, no matter what. Satisfaction guaranteed.”  He slapped her hard on the ass. “If you’re not happy, please let me know. I’ll make sure she’s severely disciplined.”

There was a round of applause. A heavy voice, which she immediately recognized as that of the odious Theo, said, “You shouldn’t have said that, Doug! I’ll be playing tighter than a nun’s pussy all night!” A few of the other men grumbled, not entirely pleased with his gloating.

Robin wished she could move; being displayed like this while they discussed her upcoming ravishment was almost too much to bear. Cringing inwardly, she shifted position again, her muscles tightening around the humiliating shaft impaling her. She shook her head as her insides churned. There was no way!

“But there are no losers here at Doug’s poker party,” Master continued with mock solemnity. “Just winners who ran out of money.” There was another round of laughter. “I want everyone to have a chance to enjoy my little beauty….”

Everyone? She shuddered. It was too much. How she longed to release her clenched hold on the seat cushion, to pull the invasive object out of her ass, to run stumbling from the room. But she knew she would not. He owned her, and she would do as he commanded. Whatever he commanded. A strange rush of pleasure and pride pulsed through her at the knowledge that he had chosen her to be his slave. 

“… so her mouth will be available to each of you as you leave the table. The slut,” he said, smacking her ass sharply again, “will be waiting by the door on her knees when you decide to go. She’s quite orally talented, believe me. I don’t want anyone to leave my house unhappy.”

He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up, forcing her to her tiptoes, turning her so she was facing the table. “Now, that’s a prize worth playing for, don’t you think?” Robin winced, his grip tight in her hair. Frantically she looked around the room, meeting the aggressive, drunken stares of the seated men. A tremor of apprehension shot through her. Her clit throbbed and she could feel herself getting wet. How could this be turning her on? Fist still clenched in her hair, Master kissed her on the cheek. “Go attend to your duties, girl,” he murmured.

“Yes sir,” she whispered as he released her. She stumbled to the door, her trembling legs barely able to support her. At the top of the stairs she paused, breathing heavily. Could she go through with this? Would she go through with this? What choice did she have? She touched her collar again. Service, obedience, submission: these were the things it represented. Releasing her will to him had brought such joy and contentment; even now amidst all the whirling chaos of the evening she was able to summon it forth and ground herself with it. Strangely, she smiled, a secret little smile of satisfaction.

On her hands and knees on her little cushion she gently touched the vibrator between her legs again, moaning softly as the sensations tingled through her body. It was cruel, to keep arousing herself, but she could hardly help it. Master allowed, even encouraged her to play with herself, to keep her body in a state of readiness at all times, yet he kept a strict rein on her orgasms. She knew better than to climax without permission – it was almost unthinkable. She wondered if she could even do it without his firm, “Come for me now, slut!” command. Gasping, she pressed the vibrator tightly against her swollen clit, in a perverse way relishing the stimulating torture.

The stomping of a man coming up the stairs snapped her out of her rapturous state. Robin hurried to the front door, legs still quivering, brushing the hair back from her face. It was the bodybuilder – Dan? He glowered at her angrily. Nervously, she smiled back.

“On your knees, bitch,” he spat as he unbuckled his belt. Anxiously she crouched down.

Painfully grabbing her hair he forced himself into her mouth. She pulled away, barely able to breathe, as he rammed his shaft into the back of her throat. Fighting not to gag, she made a muffled noise of protest as he pressed her against the wall, using her brutally, raping her mouth, even enjoying her distressful struggles. Grunting, he pulled out at the last minute, spattering her face and body with the warm sticky discharge. She fell back, gasping for breath, and looked up at him.

“Fucking little cunt,” he sneered.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Without another word he turned and left, slamming the door behind him. She shuddered as the fluid dripped from her face. 

In the bathroom she cleaned up as best she could using a wet towel, and then brushed her teeth. The new top was torn – another casualty of the evening. She looked haggard and tired in the mirror but she did the best she could, applying more lipstick and blush. Good lord, how long could this night go on? It was after midnight; the men had been playing cards for more than six hours. Her feet ached from the tight, pinching shoes and the rubbery phallus continued to wordlessly violate her, reminding her of its presence every time she moved.

Petulantly she sprawled on her belly on the cushion, genuinely pissed at Master for what he had put her through. Time for more wine, she decided. The state Master was in, anything was possible later.

The next one up the stairs, about thirty minutes later, was the tall man with glasses. The banker, she had come to think of him, not remembering his name. She went and knelt down in the foyer.




Slave Wager: Poker Party



He seemed shocked, not quite sure what to make of this beautiful submissive creature offering her services to him. “Come on,” she said with a smile. “I’ll take care of you.” Uncertainly he stepped forward and she unzipped his fly. His cock was flaccid and she took him in her hand gently. Softly she ran her tongue around the head of his penis, using her warm, wet mouth to excite him.

“Um .…” he stammered after a few moments. “I don’t know if this is going to work … too much scotch, I think .…”

She stood up, still caressing him gently, and he nervously avoided her gaze. I intimidate him, she realized suddenly. Her raw sexuality and unabashed openness obviously made him uneasy.

“It’s all right,” she whispered. “We can take our time.”

“I think I’d just better go,” he said, backing away and zipping up his pants. He stepped toward the door, then stopped. “You don’t have to … you know … mention this?”

Robin smiled. It was kind of charming, really, and strangely flattering. “Don’t worry.” She kissed him on the cheek. “It can be our little secret.”

He smiled gratefully, then blushed. “You’re very beautiful, you know,” he said shyly.

“Thank you,” she said, genuinely pleased.

“Can I ask you something?” he whispered. “Doesn’t that … uh … doesn’t it hurt?”

“Like a son of a bitch,” she whispered back.

He nodded uncertainly, then turned and fumbled for the doorknob. Reaching past him she unlocked the deadbolt, then watched as he hurried to his car without looking back. She shook her head. Men.

Tony, the large bearded man, was the next to leave the game. He flopped in the leather armchair, rubbing his hand across his face. “Fuck, I just dropped over four grand,” he said disgustedly. “Your boss is quite a card player.”

“He’s not my boss,” Robin said, unbuckling his pants as she knelt beside the chair. “He’s my master.”

“Master, huh?” He chuckled. “Damn, where did he find you?”

“He seduced me.” His penis was surprisingly small for a man his size, but already erect. Slowly she began using her lips and tongue, hearing him groan.

“My wife will never do this,” he said, his voice strained. “Oh, yes. Fuck, yes.”

Robin began bobbing her head up and down, her lips tight around him. It took less than two minutes before he let out a strangled cry and came, clutching the arms of the chair. Robin thrilled at the feeling of his shaft pulsing in her mouth. She couldn’t help it – she loved pleasing men. It was her nature: she was a slave.

She looked up at him, an impish look on her face. “Was that good?” she murmured.

“Fuckin’ incredible.” He opened his eyes, still breathing heavily, and gazed at her kneeling on the floor. He shook his head. “Your Doug is one lucky motherfucker.”

“Yes, he is.” She smiled. “Do you want another drink before you go?”

“No, I think that four thousand dollar blowjob will do me just fine.” He laughed.

After he left she brushed her teeth again, then knelt on her small cushion. Being the object of the men’s desire had gotten her quite turned on; her hand drifted between her legs, stroking herself gently. She was amazed to feel how wet she was. Having another man’s cock in her mouth had certainly excited her. She hadn’t been with another man for two years, since Master had collared her. What a slut he’s turned me into, she thought. How does he know these things about me?

Robin heard his voice calling from downstairs and she wearily got to her feet. She prepared drinks for the three remaining men, slopping Theo’s rum into the glass, quelling an urge to spit in his drink. She rubbed her eyes tiredly. It was after two; they had been at it for more than eight hours. She longed for a nap. Taking several deep breaths she steadied herself, then made her way to the basement.

The three men were playing rather grimly, tossing chips into the pot with hardly a word spoken. Robin watched silently, standing in the doorway. Finally Raphael turned his cards over with a flourish and the other two men groaned. He stood up, yawning. “I think I’ll call it a night, guys.”

Theo curled his lip, looking at Robin. “Don’t forget your consolation prize.” She blushed, nervously avoiding his gaze.

Master rose from his seat, stretching. “All right, I’ll cash you out, Raph. Time for a break anyway…. Unless you want to call it a night?” he asked, looking at Theo.

The big man gulped half his drink. “Not on your life, Doug. I want a piece of that bitch of yours.” He smirked. Robin clenched her fists and looked away.

Master and Raphael rose and went to the side table to count out the chips. Theo stood up and snapped his fingers, motioning with his thick fingers. “C’mere.”

Anxiously she moved closer. He licked his lips and ran his hand down her arm, his touch making her shiver. He moved behind her, snuffling drunkenly in her hair; Robin glanced over at Master, agonized, but he wasn’t paying attention. She could feel Theo’s bulk behind her as he reached around and pinched her nipples tightly, making tears spark in her eyes. Gritting her teeth, she struggled not to make a noise. He slid his meaty hands down her body and gripped her hips, pulling her back against him.

“I’m going to enjoy you tonight, you little fuckin’ tease,” he said softly in her ear, his breath stinking of rum.

“You have to win first,” she whispered somewhat defiantly.

He chuckled and licked the side of her face, the repulsive intimacy making her jerk away. “I will,” he sneered. “Your precious master doesn’t stand a chance. And he knows it.”

Twisting out of his grasp she stumbled to the door, wiping her cheek fiercely with her palm. A night with him would be unbearable. Robin looked over her shoulder to see him lighting another cigar, slouched in his chair like an indolent slug. She shuddered.

Raphael was stuffing a stack of bills into his pocket and shaking hands with Master. “I’ll let your lovely little courtesan walk me to the door,” he said. He extended his hand graciously and Robin preceded him up the stairs.

In the entryway, she turned and dutifully dropped to her knees; he shook his head, a slight smile on his face. “Get up, my dear.”

Robin rose uncertainly. “But I’m supposed to,” she whispered. “Don’t you want me?”

He brushed her auburn hair back from her face. “I’m sure you’re quite talented, sweetheart. But it would make my boyfriend extremely jealous, and the resulting dramatic histrionics is not something I want to put up with tonight.”

Looking at her outfit, he tsk-tsked a little sadly. “Please, though … have Doug give me a call before he goes shopping next time? Poor thing. You look like a crème brûlée stuck in a cupcake wrapper.”

“I will,” she said, smiling. Impulsively she hugged him.

He chuckled. “My, you are quite a treat, my dear.”

“What’s he doing down there?” she asked anxiously.

Raphael shook his head. “He’s in a vendetta kind of mood … playing quite well, though. Pretty obsessed about Theo. Love to see him take that bastard down a notch or two.” He kissed her on the forehead before leaving.

Downstairs, Theo was opening a fresh deck of cards when Robin entered the room. Master grinned at her. “You look a little uncomfortable, pet. Would you like that thing out of you?”

“Yes, sir,” she said uncertainly. Truth be told, she had almost forgotten it was there, as strange as it seemed.

“Take your clothes off, girl,” he said casually. 

Silently she complied, knowing the eyes of both men were on her. Awkwardly she bent over and unbuckled the high heels, wincing at the sensation in her behind. The carpeted floor felt good on her feet.  She unzipped the skirt and drew the top up over her head, then rolled off the stockings and stood proudly, the cool air washing over her naked body.

He gestured. “Turn that chair around and kneel up on the seat.”

She moved it closer to the table – the same chair she had been force to display herself over earlier – and perched up on the cushion, gripping the back tightly. Arching her back slightly, she presented her ass, the warmth rising in her face.

Sensing Master behind her, she winced as he grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. He pressed against the butt plug lightly, making her squirm. “You like that, girl?” he murmured.

“Yes, Master,” she gasped.

Theo laughed. “That’s one horny cunt you got there, Doug.”

“Yes, she’s a hot little piece of slut meat.” Robin could tell by his tone that he was pleased.

The hot flash of pain as he began to remove the intrusive probe forced a whimper from her lips. Incredibly, she felt another surge of tingling wetness between her legs. He pulled it partway out, then began to fuck her ass with it, slowly, the thick rubbery shaft penetrating her as her toes curled. Her entire body quivered at the sensation.

She heard Theo chuckle but was unable to stop her body from responding. The sensation of it filling her, stretching her tight ass, sent tingling warmth pulsing through her clit. The shame of being so casually yet intimately violated as he toyed with her body aroused her even further. She closed her eyes, gripping the chair tightly.

“Please, Master,” she panted.

“Please what?” he asked playfully. “Please more?” He shoved the horrible thing in deeper, twisting it back and forth. “Or please less?” Slowly he slid it out, until just the tip remained inside, her muscles clenching involuntarily around it.

“I don’t know,” she gasped, about to explode. She, on the verge of climax already, hated it, yet wanted more. He removed it fully and she exhaled in relief, slumping against the back of the chair, the desire pulsing between her legs.

“Thank you, sir,” she breathed. It felt incredibly good to have the hateful thing gone.

“Turn around, girl,” he directed, taking his seat at the table. “Legs up over the arms of the chair. Put your arms behind you, grasp your right wrist with your left hand.”

“Yes, Master,” she said, flushing again as she assumed the position he had dictated. With her legs spread she was completely exposed, and the swollen wetness between her thighs must have been obvious at a glance. She noticed Theo staring at her and she reddened, hearing him chuckle.

In the position she was in, slouched in the chair, she couldn’t quite see the surface of the table. For the next hour she watched the two men play; they hardly spoke at all. The game seemed to go back and forth; Master would win a couple of pots, then Theo would take several in a row. Please win, she begged silently, watching Master look at each hand, the cigar clenched in his teeth. She shuddered, imagining the disgusting Theo on top of her, inside of her.

“Gotta pee. Be right back,” said Master, rising. He tousled Robin’s hair affectionately as he left the room.

Theo got another Cohiba from the box and lit it slowly, the match flame reflected in his little black eyes as he looked at her. Robin shifted nervously. Don’t let him intimidate you, she told herself. Defiantly, she glared back at him.

Theo’s thick lips curved up in a smile and he scooted his chair forward, until he was right next to her. A gleam of perspiration covered his bald head. He licked his lips as he stared at her, sprawled brazenly in front of him. She hated being in such an exposed and vulnerable position, but she had not been given permission to move. Her heart pounded as she fought to remain calm.

He reached out and ran his stubby fingers down her cheek, making her cringe. “I’m going to have a good time with you, Red,” he murmured. His hand trailed down her body, his thumb idly circling her nipple as it stiffened. Robin struggled to remain still, wrist firmly grasped in her hand, breathing shallowly.

Grinning, he pulled the cigar from his mouth and began to probe gently between her legs with it. Robin closed her eyes as s tremor went through her. As wet and open as she was, it was impossible to keep her body from responding. 

He flicked the cigar against her clit, sending waves of sensation through her. Eyes watering from the smoke, she struggled desperately to remain still. In her awkward position, she was powerless to prevent him from exploiting her vulnerability. Her hips moved involuntarily and she gasped.

He gave a low chuckle, pressing the end of the cigar slightly inside her. The nauseating smoke curled around her face and she desperately twisted her head from side to side. Where was Master? “Please,” she finally begged.

"Worthless cunt," he sneered. He slipped the still-lit cigar even further inside her; she could feel the heat from the glowing ember between her thighs. It was sheer torture, feeling her body respond, as she struggled to remain still. "God, don't," she whimpered.

He trailed the soggy stub of the cigar up her belly, leaving a trail like a snail. Robin shuddered, her flesh crawling; how she wanted to wipe that sticky tendril off. Theo chuckled and puffed on the wet end of the cigar, smacking his lips in a parody of delight.

“You’ll never have me,” she hissed, blinking the tears from her eyes.

He smirked, leaning back in his chair. “We’ll see about that, Red.”

Master entered the room and frowned, sensing some of the tension in the air. “Everything all right?” he asked.

“Yup,” announced Theo, scooting his chair back into place. “Just admiring your property, Doug.”

Robin sat there angrily as they began to play again, feeling the ooze drying on her skin. After about fifteen minutes, Master pushed in a big bet. “A thousand dollars,” he announced.

Theo’s eyebrows rose. For a long minute he just looked at Master. Without saying a word, he pushed a stack of chips into the pot, matching the bet.

Theo dealt them each another card, and Master pushed another large stack out. “Two thousand.”

Theo silently studied his cards. Robin could sense the antagonism between them; it had been brewing all night. Master was idly playing with his cigar band, not realizing it. He was nervous, she realized, and trying not to show it. Craning her neck, she couldn’t see either player’s hand over the lip of the table and she twisted uneasily, legs spread wide in the chair. It was such a frustrating position, forced to wait there as the prize in the game, unable to even see the cards!

“Call, raise you five,” grunted Theo, pushing a large stack of chips out.

Master seemed surprised for a moment, then recovered his composure. He stared at his cards, lost in thought, twirling the little cigar band absently between his fingers. Don’t do it, Robin pleaded silently. Anxiously she glanced at Theo, slouching in his chair, watching Master intently.

Master nodded and counted out five thousand dollars worth of chips into the pot, matching the bet. This could be it, she thought, her heart racing.

Theo dealt each of them another card and Master knocked the table, checking the bet. Theo smirked, also checking.

“Last one, down and dirty,” Theo announced and flicked the cards off the deck.

The dread was mounting inside of Robin; she could barely stand it. She licked her dry lips, glancing back and forth. Neither man was paying her any attention. Master checked again, tapping his knuckle on the table.

Theo cleared his throat. “How much you got there, Doug?”

Master was silent for a moment, looking at his chips. “About eighty-two hundred.”

“A little more than me,” said Theo. “I’ve got just under eight grand, and I’m all in.” He pushed his pile of chips into the middle of the table.

Robin froze, not daring to breathe. Don’t! she wanted to scream. Her eyes darted between the two men. Master sat there, looking at Theo, rubbing his chin.

“Let’s do it, Doug. All the marbles,” Theo goaded. He looked at her and grinned. “And Red here, too.”

She wondered what was going through Master’s mind as he sat there, considering. The blood pumped through her body, skin tingling. The moment seemed to stretch out forever. She bit her lip, wishing she could say something.

“All right.” Master stood up. “I call.” Robin felt sick to her stomach; she shifted uneasily again, yearning to break position.

“Aces down,” announced Theo triumphantly, flipping his cards. “Two pair. Aces and eights.”

Master didn’t move; Robin felt her stomach plunge in despair. After a moment he shook his head, reaching down and turning his own cards over. “No good,” he said. “Three cowboys.”

“Son of a bitch!” cried Theo in disgust. “Rolled up kings?” He slammed his fist down on the table, the chips rattling.

Robin shook with relief, gasping; she hadn’t even realized that she’d been holding her breath. Master spread his arms, a half smile on his face. “That’s it, I guess. Game’s over.”

She looked up at him, gratefully, yearning for him to allow her permission to jump squealing into his arms. Finally, it was over!

Theo’s face was dark with rage. “You want to gamble? How about this?” He fished in his suit coat pocket, pulling out another wad of bills, and tossed it on the table. “Ten grand. One cut of the cards.” He glanced over at Robin. “And the cunt.”

She shook her head, squirming helplessly in the chair, almost wishing she were bound. Being forced to remain in this shameful position by no more than Master’s command was one of the most difficult things she had ever done.

Theo gathered up the cards, shuffling them together in his meaty hands. “Whaddya say, Doug? You game?”

Master smiled. “Why not?” he said graciously.

Robin felt like she was going to throw up. This insane pissing match was more than she could take. Wishing they would just stop, she watched Theo place the deck on the green felt, gesturing for Master to cut the deck. 

“You go first,” Master said, still smiling.

With a flourish, Theo rifled the cards with his thumb and raised a third of the deck, exposing the jack of diamonds. “The money card!” he exclaimed delightedly. “Let’s see you beat that!”

It was a good card. Robin’s heart sank. The next few hours of her future depended on the card that Master drew.

“She can cut for me,” Master said nonchalantly, sitting down at the table. He got out a fresh cigar and lit it.

A grin slowly spread across Theo’s face. “Let Red cut for you?” He looked down at her, trembling in the chair. “You’ve got balls, Doug, I’ll give you that. Let her decide her own fate. Why not?”

Anxiously Robin got to her feet, arms and legs tingling. She felt completely out of place. This was too much. She glanced uncertainly at both men.

“Just cut the cards,” Master said reassuringly. “It’ll be fine.”

She caressed the deck with her slim fingers, trying to summon some energy or prescience. Theo was sneering derisively, Master leaning back in his chair, a slight smile on his face. She ruffled the edges of the cards. Taking a deep breath, she slowly raised the clump of cards up next to her face, not even looking at the exposed bottom card

* * *

The sky was starting to lighten as she sprawled facedown across the bed. The noise of the shower stopped and a few minutes later he entered the room, a towel around his waist. She giggled, wriggling her ass mischievously, and was rewarded with a small slap.

“So how about that backrub?” she asked playfully.

“If it will get you to settle down so I can get some rest,” Master grumbled good-naturedly. Getting the bottle of oil, he straddled her, causing a pulse of tingling sensation between her thighs. Slowly and firmly he kneaded the muscles in her back. She sighed – he was right, it was helping her relax. She had been so keyed up since Theo had angrily stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

“You don’t seem very drunk,” she said, a little puzzled.

He laughed. “Most of my beer went into the palm tree behind my chair. You’ll have to repot that poor thing tomorrow … today, I guess.”

“So you wanted everyone to think you were drunker than you were?”

“I wanted Theo to think that, yes,” he said.




Slave Wager: Poker Party



“Mmmmm,” she breathed. It really did feel wonderful, having him on top of her. “What was that you said to me, Master? Something like why couldn’t you see it?”

“Do you know what a ‘tell’ is?” She shook her head. “It’s poker terminology for a giveaway, a read, something that tips off the other players. When you said that, I realized that I had been doing it the other night at DaVinci’s.”

“Playing with the cigar band?”

“Yeah, we were smoking cigars that night too. I must have been doing it when I was bluffing, and Theo picked up on it.” He rolled off and stretched out beside her on the bed.

She propped herself up on her elbows. “So you did it deliberately,” she asked, “there at the end?” 

He nodded. “I had the kings off the deal, I knew he’d fall for it. A little worried he might have filled a flush, though, but he wouldn’t have bet so heavy on a draw. He thought he’d caught me bluffing.”

She was silent for a moment. “Master, how did you know I’d beat him cutting the cards?”

He laughed. “I didn’t. Maybe I was a little drunk, after all. Ten thousand dollar cut -- crazy.” He shook his head. “What card did you draw?”

She reached over to the dresser. “I’ve got it right here. I’m going to put it in my scrapbook.”

“What? You can’t just take one card out. The whole deck is useless now!” He grabbed for it.

She shook her head, holding the card against her chest. “You made enough money to buy a hundred decks of cards.”

“Shame to waste a perfectly good deck,” he grumbled. “What did you draw, anyway?” She showed it to him, grinning.

“The queen of hearts? No fucking way,” he asked incredulously. She said nothing, just slipped the card under the pillow and crawled beneath the blankets.

“I suppose you think this means something?” he asked, sighing. “You and your tarot cards…” 

She giggled. “No, Master,” she said sweetly. “It’s just a card. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He crawled into bed beside her. “Queen of hearts,” he mumbled, chuckling. “Who knows, maybe it does mean something.”

Robin smiled secretly. It had actually been an ace she’d drawn, not the queen. She had a ‘tell’ too, but he didn’t need to know about it. Not yet. 



Slave Wager



Breathing heavily, the blonde smiled at her, a satisfied little grin. "See you in the morning, slut." She bent down and blew out the candle, then padded softly to the door in the darkness.

Much of the next day was spent in preparation for the party. The two naked slaves cleaned and swept and polished for hours. Mistress Victoria was a stern taskmaster, and she was quick to discipline them with fierce strokes of the riding crop. In the afternoon, Robin was chained back in her cage until late in the evening.

As the hours passed, she could hear the noises of the party out in the main room, people laughing and talking, the distinctive sound of leather striking flesh, the squeals of pain and gasps of pleasure. Unable to see through the open door because of the position of the cage, Robin squirmed around on her knees, her wrists chained together outside the bars. She hated being ignored like this! How long were they going to leave her? Finally, the blonde slave entered and released Robin from the small enclosure.

Nervously, she followed M into the main room, the pressure on the leash attached to her collar compelling her to follow. She saw that there were probably twenty people at the party. There were several well-dressed masters and mistresses, as well as their slaves. All the slaves were female, Robin noticed, and all were as naked as she was. Anxiously, she looked for Master, but he was apparently not in attendance. Blushing, suddenly the center of attention, she was led to the center of the room. Several of the guests made appreciative comments as she tried to stand proudly, eyes downcast, agitation and trepidation tumbling inside her. 

A large piece of apparatus stood against the wall behind her. Mounted between two upright posts was a thick flat beam, much like a yoke or pillory, positioned horizontally. She was ordered to back up to the beam, her neck in the semi-circular opening, with her hands in two smaller similar openings on each side. From in front of her, M slid the other half of the beam into place, its matching curved openings pinning her between the two large pieces of wood. The wooden beam was several inches thick and pressed against her chin, forcing her head up. With her arms spread, her wrists confined by the beam on either side of her head, she was completely helpless.

M bent down and shoved Robin's legs roughly apart, buckling straps around her ankles from the posts on either side. Robin stood uncomfortably on her toes as dozens of eyes stared at her, noting her exposure and vulnerability. She made eye contact with one master and he licked his lips unconsciously. Shuddering, she squirmed a little; she was scarcely able to move. 

Mistress Victoria entered the room, looking stunning and sensuous in a black corset, her ample breasts presented beautifully by the tightly buckled leather around her torso. She wore the high boots from the night before, and studded leather bands encircled her wrists. Robin couldn't take her eyes off the mistress, remembering her movements and cries in the chair the previous night. She felt the familiar heat between her thighs and she moved involuntarily, hoping her arousal wasn't obvious.

"Time for my demonstration," announced Victoria. "M, adorn the little slut."

The blonde slave approached with several wooden clothespins in her hand. With a clatter, she deposited them on the beam that confined Robin so perfectly. Fearfully, Robin turned her head, looking at the small vise-like jaws, the sturdy steel springs. She began to struggle as M attached the clothespins to the most sensitive areas of her body.

M clamped the first cruel pincers to the tender skin of her small captive's breasts. Robin's teeth clenched as the bite of pain jolted from her nipples throughout her body. Several were clamped to the sensitive flesh under her arms; still others pinched the skin on her soft belly. She gasped as others were attached to her inner thigh, the tiny wooden fingers gripping one of the most delicate and painful areas of her body. It felt like dozens of the diabolical clamps were on her, the constant pressure tormenting her mercilessly. Even the slightest motion caused new flashes of pain, and Robin desperately tried not to move.

"All right, that's enough," Victoria admonished. She retrieved a long, single-tailed whip from the walland uncoiled it slowly as she walked to a spot about six feet in front of the helplessly restrained slave. 

Nervously, Robin looked at the lethal braided cord snaking out from the wooden handle. She had never been whipped with anything like that before, although she had seen them in use at several play parties. As she realized what was coming, she began to cry, unable to help herself, the dread hammering through her. "Please, Mistress," she begged, her voice breaking. The clothespins securely gripping her skin continued their inexorable torment as she struggled involuntarily. Because of the thick wooden beam locked about her neck she was unable to even look down at her body, although she knew that the small wooden clamps must be sticking out of her like pins in a pincushion.

Victoria had a cruel smile on her face. "I'd advise you not to move." She drew her arm back and then, with a quick movement, flashed the whip forward. 

Robin shrieked as the whip cracked, the tip catching one of the clothespins and snapping it from her body. A charge of pain raced through her as the blood flowed painfully back into her swollen, pinched flesh. She struggled futilely, held in position by the heavy wooden yoke and the straps around her ankles. Her skin tingled with the terrible anticipation of the next few moments.

Expertly, Victoria removed another of the wooden clamps, swinging the long lash with a sidearm motion. The sudden crack of the whip so close was absolutely terrifying. Although she knew that the whip had not struck her, Robin was unable to keep from flinching at the loud report. As the clothespin spun away another bright jolt of agony raced through her and she screamed again, a hysterical, wavering wail of pure terror. 

The whip hissed through the air and brutally ripped another of the wooden clamps from her skin. "No! No! Please!" Robin babbled almost incoherently, pleading and begging for mercy, fear and pain detonating inside her. There was a sudden rush of air as the whip popped explosively between her legs, catching one of the clothespins clamped to her thigh. An unbelievable flare of pain tore through her and she whimpered, twisting her body, feeling the thick beam pinning her neck and wrists in position. Her bladder released involuntarily and a warm stream of urine trickled down her leg. She heard several of the guests laughing, enjoying her distress.

Victoria continued to remove the tiny wooden clamps with abrupt, explosive snaps of the whip, one by one. The whip did not touch Robin, although each frightful report caused a new jolt of adrenaline to flood through her. She trembled, fists clenched, eyes closed, trying not to move, as she prayed for it to be over. Only the two tight pinching clothespins attached to her swollen nipples remained.

"Open your eyes, slut," demanded Victoria. Robin obeyed, glancing wildly around the room. The whip flicked out and snapped one of the clamps loose, the crack resounding like a gunshot. Her nipple exploded with agony, white hot intensity burning through her and she screamed again, writhing frantically in the restraints. Victoria deftly popped the final clothespin loose and another surge of pain ripped through her. Her skin throbbed in a dozen places where the tiny clamps had pinched her. Robin sagged weakly in the confining wooden yoke, gasping for breath, her entire body shaking and twitching.

Gradually, the room seemed to come back into focus. The other guests were applauding and congratulating Victoria on her expertise. Robin was forgotten, helplessly restrained in the corner of the room. M approached with a towel and wiped off Robin's leg where she had peed herself. "You'll have to clean that up later, bitch!" hissed the short blonde. She unbuckled Robin's ankles and then slid the thick heavy board forward, releasing her.

Robin stumbled and fell to her hands and knees. The red marks of the cruel little clamps were still evident on her body. Wincing, she touched one of her breasts, massaging it gently. She was completely humiliated, broken, destroyed. She wanted to crawl from the room.

"We're not done with you yet, slut," called Victoria. "Get over here, up on the table."

Numbly, Robin looked at her, then crawled forward obediently and onto the surface of the low table. As she looked around at all the guests watching, her face flushed with shame.

"On your knees, legs spread," the mistress commanded.

Anxiously, Robin obeyed, trying not to make eye contact with the dozen or so people who sat around the room staring at her. She felt so vulnerable in this position!

"You've been such a horny little bitch since you got here, I'm going to do you a favor," smirked Victoria. "I want you to play with yourself, slut. Get yourself off. I'm allowing you to come. Now."

"But . . . please, Mistress . . ." Robin glanced frantically around at all the people watching.

"Now," repeated Victoria sternly.

Almost beet-red with embarrassment, Robin closed her eyes and began touching herself gently. She imagined Master holding her, his strong arms gripping her tightly as he pinned her down, thrusting into her. The heat and wetness between her thighs increased and she rubbed harder, the tingling excitement curling through the pit of her belly.

"Open your eyes," said Victoria. "We want to see your face." 

Robin gazed straight ahead, trying not to see what was in front of her, as she desperately stimulated herself. She was getting wet, but the arousal wasn't coming. It was just too embarrassing, masturbating in front of these strange people! She pinched her swollen nipple lightly; it was still sensitive and painful from the bite of the wooden clamp. Her mind drifted back to the previous night, when she was licking Mistress Victoria's boot, and an unexpected surge of excitement welled up inside her. 

"Oh!" she gasped, surprised. Her hand began moving faster as she remembered how the other woman had twisted uncontrollably under her mouth and tongue, how her hands had tightly clenched Robin's hair. The arousal escalated rapidly inside her and she suddenly climaxed, once, twice, then again. The frustration and desire that had been building inside her for days erupted out of her like a torrent. Lost to her surroundings, her body flushed and hot, she twisted and spasmed involuntarily on the table, shrill moans of release torn from her. The tingles of ecstasy finally subsided and she slumped on her knees, panting for breath. 

Victoria laughed. "Very good, my little slut. I'm envious of your master." She clapped her hands sharply. "M, take this one back to her cage for the night!"

Exhausted, Robin crawled into her tiny prison, her body aching and bruised. Mercifully, her wrists were not shackled together for the night. She pulled the blanket around her as the door clanged shut, and fell asleep almost immediately.

As Robin rode home in the car the next day, she hugged Master tightly, thrilled at the feeling of her arms around his large chest. Other than her long coat and his metal collar around her neck, she was completely naked. "Please," she begged fervently, "don't lend me to her again. Please, Master."

He laughed, wrapping his arm around her. "I knew it would be quite an experience for you."

She shuddered. "I missed you. I can't believe you did that to me."

"It pleased me," he said simply.

"You own me so totally, you know." She hugged him tighter. "Even though I hated it, knowing that it was what you wanted is the only thing that kept me going."

He chuckled. "Well, I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that Victoria will be visiting again next weekend. We're going to play another match."

Robin looked at him, alarmed. "Please don't bet me again! It made me feel so … helpless."

He glanced at her, surprised. "If that's what I choose to do, then that's what I'll do. You have no choice in the matter. You know that's true."

"Yes, Master," she whispered. She knew he was right. If he decided to bet her again, he would do it without a second thought as to what she wanted.

The scene was much the same as it had been the first time. Robin and M were both chained naked to the two posts, the board between them. While Master set up the pieces, Victoria smiled as she made eye contact. Trembling, Robin looked away. Surely, he wouldn't do this to her again! She hated being so displayed and helpless, particularly in front of a woman; she especially hated the fact that it turned her on so much! Goddamn him!

"So, what shall we play for this time?" Victoria challenged. 

Master's eyes flashed. "Let's raise the stakes," he suggested.

Victoria smiled slowly. "Very well. How about your slave against my slave for a week?" Robin felt sick to her stomach. Not again!

Master waved his hand, dismissing the suggestion. "Let's not play for slaves. How about something much more valuable?"

"Oh?" Victoria arched her eyebrow. "What did you have in mind?"

"You," he replied simply.

"Me?" She crossed her hands across her chest defensively. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"If I win, I want you to be my slave for a week." Master sipped his drink. 

Obviously a little flustered, Victoria brushed the hair back from her face. "I don't bottom, you know," she said empathetically. "I just won't do it. Besides, what if I win? I have no interest in you – I despise male submissives."

Master spread his hands. "I'm open to suggestions."

The two chained slaves were silent, watching the exchange. Robin saw a sly gleam come into Victoria's eye. "I like your car. The red convertible."

"The 'Vette?" Master asked, surprised. "That's a 1957 Corvette. That's a fifty thousand dollar automobile!"

"That's what I want," Victoria stated triumphantly. "And not for just a week. I want it for good if I win. Take it or leave it!"

Robin was sure Master would never agree. He loved the little white and red convertible. Although he owned several cars, the Corvette was his favorite.

"All right," said Master reluctantly. "The 'Vette against you for a week." Robin was astonished. She looked at Master, fearing he had miscalculated.

Victoria straightened in her chair. "Shall we draw for first move?" Robin thought she detected some nervousness in the mistress' voice.

Master smiled. "No, I like playing black. You can go first."

This time, there was no indecisiveness or hesitation in Master's moves. Swiftly he moved his pieces about the board. Quickly controlling the central squares, he began a relentless attack on the white army. Robin's heart leaped. Victoria's moves became more and more desperate as she was forced to sacrifice piece after piece to protect herself. Even though Robin didn't play chess, she could see that it was a determined, humiliating attack.

Grimly, Victoria tried to defend herself but it was no use. The game took less than an hour. Finally, reduced to just a few pieces trapped in a corner, she tipped her king, conceding the match. She stood up, pushing the chair back angrily. "You bastard. You played me."

Master said nothing as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

Victoria slammed her fist on the board, toppling the pieces. "I was greedy, I'll give you that. You son of a bitch! Even though you won, fair and square, you can't be serious about the bet!"

He stood up, his jaw firm. "I am serious. Strip."

Defiantly, Victoria glared back. Neither one said a word. Robin held her breath. The tension was thick in the room, the unspoken battle of wills a palpable entity between them. At last, Victoria dropped her eyes, conceding. Her hands trembling, she unbuttoned her dress and let it slip from her shoulders.

"Everything," said Master. "Shoes, underwear, everything."

Wordlessly, Victoria complied. In moments she stood naked in front of Master. Her chin was up, her shoulders back, her legs slightly spread. Robin sucked in her breath. The woman was incredibly beautiful.

Master unlocked the cuffs from the blonde slave. "Gather your mistress' things. You can return for her in a week."

M looked at Victoria wildly. "Mistress?"

After a pause, Victoria nodded. M bent down and gathered the clothing, then turned and fled from the room.

Master removed the cuffs from Robin's wrists. "Well, it appears we have a new slave in the house for a week," he announced jovially. "I'm sure you can find things for her to do, some menial, servile tasks."

Robin smiled. "Yes, Master." Victoria's fists clenched, but the voluptuous brunette didn't speak. 

Master turned and approached his new slave. He reached under her chin and pressed her head up, forcing her to make eye contact. "We'll have some fun, won't we?" he asked softly, repeating the words that she had said to Robin previously.

Victoria glared back stubbornly. "You won't break me!" she hissed. "You can do whatever you want, but you'll never make me your slave!"

Master chuckled. "We'll see. I do, however, expect complete obedience. Understood?"

"Yes," said Victoria sullenly.

Master slapped her hard, the loud smack making Robin jump. Victoria gasped, eyes watering. "Yes what?" he asked sharply.

"Yes, Master!" Victoria shuddered, the awareness of her involuntary response registering on her face. Robin was astonished to see the immediate transformation in this proud cruel woman, who had degraded and controlled her so completely. She gazed at Master, awed. 

"Down on your knees and elbows." Master pointed to a spot on the floor. "Face away from me."

After a moment's hesitation, Victoria complied. Robin looked at the sweet curves of the brunette's ass and legs, the way her body was presented in a beautiful submissive posture. Another tingle started in her belly and a flush of excitement went through her.

Master turned and retrieved a small whip from the wall, handing it to Robin. "Why don't you play with our new slave for a few hours? I'm sure you have a few things in mind."

"Thank you, Master!" breathed Robin, feeling the heft of the handle, the weight of the stinging straps in her hand. Stepping forward, she teased Victoria's crouching body with the whip, the leather blades cascading across her back and legs. A rush of power welled up inside her as she looked at her helpless victim on the floor. Using both hands, she lifted the whip up over her head.

Victoria trembled. "Please! Have mercy, Mistress!" she cried, her voice quavering.

"Not likely," Robin sneered. Using all her strength, she flashed the whip down with a sudden motion.

Later that night, as she lay curled in Master's arms, she finally got the courage to ask what she had been wondering about all evening. "Master? Did you do that deliberately?"

"What?" he asked sleepily.

"Lose the first match? Was that on purpose?"

He rolled over and sat up in bed. "Do you know what a gambit is?" 

"A gambit?" She shook her head, waiting for him to explain.

"A gambit is a chess term. It refers to a strategy where you sacrifice a piece early in the game, usually a very important piece like a queen, because it gives you a tactical advantage later on."

Robin thought for a moment. "You sacrificed me? So you could provoke her into playing the match you wanted? Is that it?"

He grinned. "As soon as I met her, I knew she was an arrogant bitch. I wanted to teach her a lesson."

"You used me, just like one of your little chess pieces!" she cried, suddenly angry.

He chuckled. "Yes, I did." 

"I can't believe you manipulated me like that!" She crossed her arms, still irritated.

He laughed again and kissed her. "I manipulate you all the time. That's what masters do with slave girls. More importantly, I wanted to make her submit to me. And I will, have no doubt about that." Robin shuddered, knowing that what he said was true.




Slave Wager



"I hope you at least got some small measure of revenge tonight," he whispered, pulling her body against his.

After a thorough whipping, Robin had ordered Victoria to crawl out to the main room, where she had been strapped spread-eagled to a padded table. For more than an hour, Robin had mercilessly tickled, teased, and aroused her helpless captive, using her hands and mouth. When Victoria was writhing on the table, begging for that tiny increase in stimulation that would trigger the blessed relief she desperately craved, Robin had left her for the night. Let that bitch endure a full night of horrible whimpering need and desire! 

Robin grinned wickedly. "Yes, I got some revenge tonight." She squirmed a little, imagining the brunette twisting futilely, the straps pinning her in position.

"Good, then let's get some sleep." He hugged her close.

She pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. A wave of contentment washed over her. "An important piece," she whispered, "like the queen . . ."

He grunted in response.

"Am I the queen, Master?"

"Go to sleep, slave girl," he grumbled.

"Yes, Master." Robin closed her eyes, still smiling.