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.