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My Wife's Blackjack Debts

By: Lovecutefeet



Wet dreams and hopes, based on a mix of fact and fantasy. It's my first story, please be forgiving.

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My Queen's Blackjack Debt

We are married since 24 years. It has not been an easy journey. I am a hedonistic European, and she is a repressed prude from China. We met as graduate students. She is not much into fun, especially sexual fun, of any kind, and always cautious. She gambles sometimes. But even when gambling, her bets are a timid—2 cents and 5 cents at the slot machines. 

After 20 years of a fairly boring marriage, with 2 kids, I came out of the closet as a submissive. Dominating me fit her bitchy, controlling nature well. Not much changed, really, except occasional whippings, pinchings and other physical punishments. She especially liked putting me in a Kali's Teeth Bracelet before driving to Lee, Massachusetts for a day-long shopping trip with her sister, knowing that I would not be able to indulge in my favorite hobby, internet porn. Sometimes she puts the KTB on me at night so I won't hump her leg in the morning, for she's not much into sex, either. 

Two years ago, she reconnected with an old roommate from grad school, another Chinese woman. They really hit it off, and we have visited her now several times. In February 2011, her friend invited her to a weekend trip at the Borgata in Atlantic City. I kept an eye on the two kids, while the ladies went gambling. That night, my wife came back at 4AM, with blazing eyes. Her friend had introduced her to Blackjack. My wife had lost $150 after an exciting night, but instead of moaning about the money, she told me that she had fun. A few weeks later, I found that my wife had bought books about learning how to play blackjack.

A year passed and the two women planned another summer trip to Atlantic City, this time without children. After a few hours in the Borgata, the two felt bored. At 11 PM, my wife's friend ran into another Chinese lady with whom she did business, and who told her that there was a small, private Chinese gambling meet at the Tropicana. 

Led by the business friend, my wife, her friend and me strolled down to the casino. On the way, the businesswoman told us how this was a game for high rollers. She excitedly told us how one man, Don Johnson, had won several millions in a tournament here one evening in May 2011. Such luck could happen within her gambling circle, too.

The room was not large, with five tables. The crowd consisted of wealthy Chinese. My wife virtually never drinks, afraid of loosing control over herself. But she wanted to fit in. Nervous, she took the free mimosa offered by the waitress. Her friend's business partner introduced her to a few people. 

After a few more mimosas, and being amongst rich, confident Chinese men and women, my wife became bolder. Sitting at the blackjack table, she lost a little, then started winning moderate sums. She now felt excited and confident and used one of her credit cards to get more money to gamble. 

Since they were all chatting in Chinese, I yawned. She ordered me to get her a drink, and then to go back to the hotel. Her tone was her usual bitchy snarling--she rarely realizes how she sounds when she speaks to me—but I devotedly brought her a fifth mimosa, and left at 1:30 AM. 

As the night continued, she and her friend played, her friend at another table. A businessman in his 60s sat next to my wife. He looked distinguished and successful, in good shape and smelled like expensive after-shave. He was a rich widowed banker living in Westchester County. He chatted with her, complimenting her on her game and her looks. She flushed. She had always despised me for suggesting that she take a weekend boyfriend for health & relaxation, but that night, she felt adventurous and flirted shamelessly. She even allowed him to put his hand on her thigh. 

By 3AM she had lost $15,000. Upset, she felt that she must win that money back. She maxed out her eight credit cards, then borrowed money from the casino and a pile of $500 chips from other players. After some winning, she lost again heavily, and by 5AM she had lost $250,000. She woke up from her dreamy trance, and started crying.

Miss Wu, the floor manager, a tough looking slim Chinese woman in her 30s, took her to her office. "What is the matter," she asked, "you certainly have the money, only rich people are invited to this room. Your lord and husband might be upset, but what else could happen?" 

"We are not as rich as your regular customers, please, can you do something," my wife sobbed. 

The manager became stern. "You gambled on your own free will. All games are video-recorded for security, and the tape will be proof that you did. You must pay your debt, or we'll sue you. Most people believe that loans made for gambling are unenforceable, but the New Jersey Casino Control Act makes such loans legal in Atlantic City, and the courts enforce them since Gottlob v. Lopez (1985). Our courts are strict with people who want to defraud New Jersey's premier industry. We might even get triple damages, as warning to other would-be deadbeats." 

"I can arrange a payment plan, two months. But there will be 8% interest per month." 

My wife now sobbed even louder. "I do not have that kind of money, even if we sell everything. I cannot bear to endanger my sons' college studies either. I will have to kill myself in a fake accident so my husband then can pay you back with my life insurance." 

At that moment, the manager's assistant came in and whispered something in her ear. Miss Wu nodded, and the assistant left. Miss Wu now walked around her desk and sat near my wife. She hugged her and said that there might be a way out, but that my wife had to be open-minded and not be shocked by the offer. Also, it would be my wife's decision alone whether to accept the offer—or accept the alternative. My wife nodded with tears streaming down her face. 

Miss Wu stated sternly: "I will have to ask you a few very personal questions, and you must answer truthfully." 

"Yes, Miss Wu, I will," my wife sighed helplessly. 

"When did your husband last fuck you," she asked. My prude wife felt shocked at the intimate nature of the question, but realizing the hopelessness of her situation truthfully answered that we had done it the last time in August 2007—over five years ago. "So you do not need his junk much, then." -- "Not at all, Miss Wu," my wife replied, "You know how it is with us Chinese women, we like to control ourselves, and during orgasm one loses self-control. I did allow myself to come a few times—I came suddenly when my oldest son was accepted at a prestigious college. Otherwise my sensual joys are limited to simple things like shopping, where I never loose my self-control. And I was right—tonight, I let go of my natural caution and you see the result—we are ruined."

"Then listen carefully," Miss Wu replied. "We have an occasional customer at this table, a widow in her early 70s. Her husband, who gambled here as well, was a cruel man, and she always dreamed to cut off his nuts in revenge. He died a few years ago, but she still dreams of doing it. She's very rich and can afford her dreams. She told us that should we ever have a client desperate enough to sell his nuts, she'd give him $500,000. Her dream would solve your problem. We would deduct the $250,000 you owe, and you receive the rest as an official gift from her. How about that in exchange for some old junk you do not use any longer."

My Queen turned an angry purple. "Who do you think I am? And what makes you think my husband would agree?" she bellowed.

"Easy, missy," Miss Wu countered, "If you accept, it is up to you to convince your husband. But a man who does not get sex for five years without getting a girlfriend cannot be a real man. And from the way you yelled at him, and his respectful tone when he replied, it is clear that you are the boss. My gut feeling is that he'll do as you say. Anyway, I will leave you now with your friend to think about this generous offer. And don't worry about your gelded hubby's health—there will be a nurse, and he'll get medicines. Officially, he will have had an accident during hiking, a bite by a brown recluse spider on that tender spot that required emergency surgery."

After these words Miss Wu left the room, and my wife's friend walked in. My wife fell into her friend's arms, and the two talked briefly. Her friend was astonished at the offer and wondered about my reaction. My wife explained to her that we tried to live a Female-led marriage since many years, and that I was a submissive dog with disgusting dreams. I probably would agree to be cut to save her, but should she? 

Her friend was relieved that my wife would not kill herself, for she would feel very guilty if that happened, having brought her to this exclusive gambling party. She confirmed to my wife that the most practical option was to accept the offer. 

Miss Wu returned, and my wife nodded. Miss Wu smiled. Mrs Wang, also called Old Lady Wang, would be so happy, and a happy rich old lady meant a generous rich old lady. But my wife said she had one big request. She was concerned that gelded, I'd get fatter than I already was. Would Old Lady Wang be satisfied with my cock? Ms Wu called Old Lady Wang, and the change was accepted. 

"When will the operation happen?" asked my wife. "Immediately" answered Miss Wu cheerfully, "Your husband will be brought to her villa immediately, and be returned to you this afternoon." 

My wife now took her cell phone. She suddenly felt afraid. What if I refused? Then she became angry at me, and felt that the whole situation was my fault. I had prodded her to be more fun, and this was the result! She told me to come to the club at once. After I walked in half-asleep at 7 AM, Miss Wu's assistant cuffed my hands behind my back and blindfolded me. My wife told me briefly what had happened. I was stunned and did not reply. She gave me a strong kick in the nuts and I squealed my agreement. The four ladies laughed.

I was led to a van. Twenty minutes later, Miss Wu dropped me at the villa of Old Lady Wang. Her nurse and her two maids took me in. The three women were all plumpy Chinese in their 50s. The maids spoke no English. In the courtyard, I was stripped, hosed down with water, and tied to a pole. Miss Wu watched. The four women chatted while handling me. 

After I was tied, Miss Wu pointed to my nuts and put up her foot, talking and laughing. I guess she was relating how my wife had kicked me. She came close to me, and with a kind smile kicked me hard in the nuts. The other three women then did so as well, giving me 2-3 kicks each. 

Then the older maid took a rattan cane and started caning me. A half hour later I was untied. Miss Wu looked at me and said "your wife told me you massage her feet often, and also friends at parties, let's see how good you are." I massaged all four for a half-hour each. They seemed satisfied. Then I was reattached to the pole. It was now around noon time. 

Finally Old Lady Wang woke up. She stepped out of the house and walked up to me. One could still see her former beauty. She was slim, but not too slim. Her long hair was still raven black. I saw a glimmer of hatred and perhaps even insanity in her eyes. But I had accepted my fate as sacrifice to a superior, confident woman.

Old Lady Wang sat down with Miss Wu and the nurse, and the maids served them lunch. After the food was on the table, Mrs Wang ordered the two maids to cane me, and they did so. First on the back, then the butt, then I was turned and my hard cock was caned, too. I moaned, and jumped, and the three women at the table laughed heartily while savoring the show.

At 1PM, I was led to a medical room, strapped on a bed, and my genital area shaved. Miss Wu explained that there would be no anesthetic. After all, for a half-million bucks, Mrs Wang was entitled to the maximum of fun. There would be no final jerk-off either, since this was not in the slightest about my own pleasure. 

Mrs Wang took two acupuncture needles and slowly stabbed my testicles, muttering that they would be for her the next time as she was sure my wife would gamble again. She then climbed on my face and put her ass right over my lips. Miss Wu ordered me to stick my tongue in deep and shimmy it. 

The nurse advised that the cock would be easier to cut flaccid, but Mrs Wang wanted to feel a big cock. And so the nurse jerked me till I was hard, very hard. She then slid a rigid plastic straw down the urethra; put a clamp an inch above the root of my cock, and another a half-inch above. The clamps hurt like hell. Then she took a piano wire with two handles, wrapped the wire around the cock in the space between the two clamps, and gave the handles to Mrs Wang. 

I wriggled my tongue frantically in her arse. With the needles still in my nuts and now this, I did not want to offend her in the slightest. The whole procedure was painful enough, and the Goddess knows what the crazy old bird would do if disappointed. Mrs Wang rocked gently and moaned. She grabbed the handles and started to tug. Soon the wire was cutting through the skin, then the turgid flesh, and the straw. She laughed and hummed like a happy little girl. 

Oddly, despite the pain, I felt happy for her, too. Mrs Wang then orgasmed hard. After she was done, the nurse cauterized my now flaccid stump, which made me yell out, and put sutures with a medicine pack against infection. She tugged the plastic straw so it stuck out an inch, and inserted through it a metal tube to allow me to pee while the meat was swollen. 

The maids took the bloody cock to the kitchen, skinned it gently, and ground the meat with flour and spices. They made small fried meatballs. Each lady got two. Mrs Wang told Miss Wu to tell me that I was very tasty, like the fat Western dog I was. The two maids, who did not speak English, gave me a thumbs up and rubbed their belly. I finally received painkillers and sleeping pills. 

I was delivered back to my wife. She and her friend put me in the car, and I slept the entire way back to Albany. The $250,000 were wired to us the next day. Back home, I took a week off from work and healed well. No one knows that I'm missing my cock except my physician. He looked at the doctor's note from New Jersey a bit skeptically. But I told him it was true and showed him a squished brown recluse spider in a plastic bag. He grinned and filed the note. 

Our daily life resumed. My Queen rarely mentions this episode, except to blame me for it. But the events of that midsummer night made her feel more comfortable being dominant. And the whole affair also awakened her sexually, which at 58, is a bit late, but better late than never. She now wants to have cock several times a week. 

Since obviously I can't provide that, she began a long-term relationship with that businessman from the casino, whose American nickname is Charley. And now, on most Friday evenings, I massage her with oils, see her dress in a sexy skirt, she gives me a hug, and by 8PM Charley picks her up in his red Porsche to whisk her to Westchester. He returns her on Monday morning, happy and fulfilled. She now realizes the wisdom of having two men in a woman's life, each with a different role. 

For a brief time, she even thought of divorcing me and marrying Charley, but we two men convinced her that this would turn this happy threesome into a nightmare. She's simply too difficult to live happily with anyone 24/7. Her lover and me like each other and complement each other. My kids were at first a tad upset, but I told them the solution is better than a divorce, and that as a European, I was not a rabid monogamist anyway. 

And for my own health, the whole episode was wonderful. Without cock, I barely watch internet porn anymore since the frustration is too great. During the weekends, since she's not at home, I finally can do intense sport. I already lost 40 pounds and look buff!

Back in Jersey, Old Lady Wang had my cock skin tanned and put on a wooden peg that could easily be fitted for a variety of uses. She settled on using it as the inside door handle of her private bathroom. Each time she squeezes it to open the door, she feels happy. 

One day, my wife's friend, who through these events had come to do quite a lot of business with the casinos and with Mrs Wang, had to pee in Mrs Wang's home. She was too far from the guest loo and thus was allowed to use the private loo. After she was done, she squeezed the handle to open the door, and suddenly realized what she was holding. She could not help laughing driving all the way back home. That night, aroused, she made love passionately to her husband.

When we visit them, she does not say anything—her husband knows my wife has a boyfriend, but he does not know about the rest of the events—but when we are alone she looks at me with a naughty glimmer in her eye, shows her ring finger straight, and then knicks it down, laughing softly. "You're a good obedient man," she smiles, "and you better be, for your wife wants to go back to that high-stakes gamble for Chinese ....Better hope she wins this time, for Old Lady Wang likes you and still hopes to get the rest of your package...She says your wife has two nest eggs at her bank."

The future promises to be interesting!