Casino Royale: Poker Face

It was already well into evening and the room continued to buzz.

Vesper Lynd, the most brilliant up-and-comer in Her Majesty's government, sat at the bar and tried not to smile whenever she caught a snippet of surprised conversation. The other guests still couldn't believe how James had risked everything on one hand against a master like Le Chiffre; but then, as the refrain often went, that was an imperialist for you.

Vesper was as English as they came, but even she couldn't take offense at that. She had warned him his ego would get the better of him, and the satisfaction that came with being proven correct couldn't have been sweeter.

She was just about to call over the waiter and ask for something sinful when her clutch began to vibrate.

Vesper sighed. She put her glass down and retrieved her phone, a frown tugging at her sensuous mouth as she read the incoming message. "Bloody hell," she said to herself.

She looked up, blue eyes checking the mirror behind the bar to ensure she wasn't being watched, then put her phone away and quickly finished her drink. She placed a handful of euros on the bar, gave the bartender a friendly wave, and hurried out of the room.

She left the hotel and went directly to the car park at the end of the street.

She moved with purpose, high-heels clicking on the damp walk, and tried not to look at the men and women who stepped aside so she could pass. Their eyes were quite naturally drawn to the plunging neckline of her tight dress, to the large breasts that bounced in time with her hurried steps, but Vesper didn't mind. She was twenty-six years old: she was used to the attention by now.

It was dark inside the car park, almost cavernous.

Vesper took the lift to the top level, where the wealthier patrons stored their vehicles. She walked slowly, wringing her hands nervously, and flinched as her heels clacked on the oil-stained concrete. Meetings of this sort never seemed to end well for her, but she hoped tonight would prove the exception. She had done everything her handler had asked of her, even bringing James to a quick finish: surely that would please the sadistic bastard.

She came to the designated meeting place, only to find an empty space. She reached for her clutch, brow furrowing, only to stop when she remembered she had deleted the message.

The sound of a car door opening caught her attention.

Vesper turned around slowly, and came face to face with the man who had been her handler and tormentor for the past several weeks. Short and middle-aged, he was unremarkable in every way save the dark lens that hid his dead eye, but Vesper knew better than most how deceiving looks could be.

"You came quickly," Gettler said, a disgusting grin stretched across his face. His French was barely tolerable, but it was the only language they had in common. "Thank you."

Vesper folded her arms across her ample chest and bit back a tart reply. This wasn't James bond; she couldn't treat him like she would an equal.

"I take it you've heard by now what happened," she said.

The grin vanished. "Yes, Miss Lynd. I'm afraid I have."

His hand lashed out like a whip.

Vesper stumbled back and bumped into a parked car. She put a hand to her face and scowled in angry surprise.

"You silly girl, Bond is back in the game! And with American CIA money!"

"I didn't know," Vesper said. "I swear I didn't!" She rubbed her cheek. "He was bankrupt; I wouldn't give him the buy-in. Surely you can't--"

Gettler moved closer. Vesper flinched away, memories of what he had done to poor Goodnight as fresh as an open wound.

"This game grows repetitive, Miss Lynd, and my patience wears thin. If you cannot complete such a simple task, then we will find someone who can."

Vesper took a deep breath and forced calm into her voice. "I can do this. I really can. Even if he wins, I can still get the money for you. Please, just give me a little more time."

Gettler put his hands on his hips, looking her up and down while he considered her words. Then he shrugged and grabbed her breast.

Vesper gasped, but caught herself before she could pull away. She had denied him once before, and almost paid for it with her life. She knew better now.

Gettler tugged at the neckline to expose her right breast to the warm night air. "A beautiful dress," he said. "But not enough for a man like James Bond, I think."

He kneaded her milky globe and twisted her pink nipple between his fingers.

"Ah, this is more like it."

He turned and looked back, then made a circle motion in the air. A moment later, the car rolling as if caught on a wave, two men climbed out of the car. They were quite large, and Vesper took one look at them and stifled a cry.

Gettler slipped the straps over her shoulders and pulled the dress down to her waist. Vesper closed her eyes, embarrassed despite the number of times he had paraded her in public, and groaned as he took her breasts in hand and worked the delicate flesh. She shuddered when he leaned over and sucked a large aureola into his mouth.

The men stood off to the side while they watched her shameful treatment. Vesper didn't recognize them, further proof in her mind that Gettler changed bodyguards simply to make her feel that much dirtier.

"No!" she gasped as he bit down on her breast. "You'll leave a mark!"

Gettler looked up, mouth full of breast, and reluctantly released her from his grip. Her freedom was short-lived however, as he immediately seized her by the shoulders and spun her around before forcing her down on the hood of the car.

A tear ran down Vesper's cheek, and she couldn't help thinking of her beloved Yusef, held captive and putting his trust in a woman about to disgrace herself yet again.

Her dress was slowly lifted, Gettler taking his time and enjoying the sight of her long legs, sculpted calves, and firm thighs, and bunched around her waist so the others could see she wore nothing underneath. He ran his hand between her thighs, rubbing her sex and pressing his thumb to her puckered opening before sliding his fingers inside.

He laughed as he took her, working her until her vagina made a wet squishy sound that left Vesper red with embarrassment. A few seconds later he withdrew from her body and lifted his hand to his face, a smile appearing as he inhaled her scent.

A sharp tug opened his trousers.

He took Vesper by the hips and leaned over and kissed her on the neck and shoulder before penetrating her with a single push. Vesper grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut. She had always found his small penis bizarrely unpleasant.

"Yes," Gettler grunted into the back of her head. "Oh merciful god, yes!"

His thrusts were quick and sharp, his body smacking against hers hard enough to leave her creamy flesh red and tender. His face dripped with sweat, and he groaned so loud that Vesper didn't hear the sound of approaching strangers until they were almost upon her.

She pushed up, looked through the car windows, and gasped when she saw a couple standing at the boot.

They stared, jaws dropping, as Gettler pounded and Vesper's pendulous breasts swung back and forth: likely convinced they were watching yet another bored piece of French arm candy taking up the popular sport of dogging. Vesper didn't try and disabuse them of that notion; better they moved on and didn't report to security what they had seen. She wasn't in a hurry to find out just how creative her tormenter could be.

The man, shamelessly pondering a part in the sordid affair, eyed her bum with interest and even angled for a better look. Vesper had no doubt he would have been allowed a turn, anything to maximize the shame she was feeling, but his female companion rolled her eyes and pulled him away.

"Popular girl," Gettler laughed. He pushed her down, flattening her breasts, and somehow found the strength to take it to her even harder.

The car rocked from side to side, shocks squeaking in a broken rhythm. He groaned painfully but refused to slow down. Vesper, who had been in this situation before, understood the signs all too well. His throbbing erection, the leaky head: he was fast approaching a messy finish.

Gettler let out a horrible scream, then fell forward and pressed his body against hers. Vesper cried out, her breath fogging the metal beneath her, and tried not to retch as he filled her with his foul seed. He kissed and nibbled her shoulder, ran his hands up and down her arms, and moaned in her ear as he rutted her until his thick flow became a trickle.

It was over in moments.

Gettler withdrew and tucked himself away. He drug his fingers down her taut back, quietly admiring her lovely figure, then turned to address the others.

"Do as you like," he said. "But be quick about it."

He walked away, leaving Vesper at their mercy.

"No," she cried as they pulled her off the car. She turned and slapped the nearest face, her instincts overwhelming her good sense, and tried to rake her nails across somebody's eyes. All she wanted now was for this torture, this humiliation, to come to an end.

Her victim laughed as he took her by the wrists and lifted her hands above her head, holding her tight while his partner slid her dress down her slender body. The same partner who then took her by the hips, buried his face in her dark curls, and inhaled her sweet scent. The one holding her arms, overcome with jealousy, released her and went for her breasts.

Vesper, quite unable to control herself, let out a sharp moan.

The man still in a crouch ran his tongue across her swollen clitoris and rubbed his fingers into her vulva while he licked her folds and gave her more pleasure in just a few seconds than Gettler had given her over several brutal sessions.

His partner let out an impatient growl and pulled Vesper to him. He lifted her onto the hood of the car, pushed her down on her back, lifted her legs into the air, then pressed his rock-solid erection to her sex and penetrated her to the core in one smooth motion.

Vesper rolled her head to the side and ran her tongue across her lips. He was easily twice as big as his boss, but unlike Gettler didn't simply hammer away without regard for her pleasure. Vesper moaned softly and tried not to let him get to her, but he was just so big, so perfectly fitted to her body, that she couldn't help herself.

His partner, determined to get a better view, stepped between the front of the car and the concrete divider and pressed his own sizeable erection against her lips. Vesper was so caught up in the sensations at work between her legs that she didn't hesitate to open up and take him into her mouth.

She was sucking before she knew it, pouty lips making a wet popping sound as he slid back and forth between them.

The man inside her body drew back until only the head remained, held there a moment, then eased forward. He moved deliberately, slowly filling her before pulling out, and took her by the ankles and repeated the manuever several times before increasing his speed. Until, overtaken with lust for a woman he would never otherwise have a chance with, he was rocking her with every ounce of strength he had.

Vesper, her moans muffled by the hardness in her mouth, arched her back and jutted her breasts into the air. She wailed, pounded on the hood hard enough to leave dents, and made sounds that were barely audible over the squeaking shocks.

The one in her mouth shouted as he humped his swollen head into her throat. Vesper never stopped sucking, and even smiled for the first time that night. But the sight of her breasts flopping back and forth in time with the rocking car and smacking against her chin proved too tempting a target for the man pounding her.

He withdrew so fast Vesper nearly screamed, pulling her off the car and forcing her into a crouch before bending at the knees and bringing his erection her massive chest.

His partner hurried over to watch.

Vesper didn't need to be told what came next. She pressed her heaving breasts together until the nipples touched, and moaned as he slid himself between them. She spit for lubrication, flicking her tongue at the head when it came within reach, and rubbed her breasts up and down his throbbing member. It was too much for any one man to handle.

He backed away after only a few pumps and stroked himself until he exploded in a shower of appreciation that coated her face, neck, and chest. He paused only to stroke a few dribbles on her lightly-freckled cleavage, then flashed her a weary smile and walked away.

That left only one.

He knelt beside her and used her discarded dress to clean her up. Vesper smiled, thankful for even the smallest show of tenderness, only to find herself hauled to her feet and shoved against the car. Before she could even try and defend herself, he lifted her leg, pressed his body against hers, and let out a deafening grunt as he slid his manhood into her body.

Vesper threw her arms around his neck and held on tight. He mashed his mouth to hers, his tongue probing deep, and thrust like a madman. He didn't take his time like the one before him, and Vesper didn't mind at all. Truth be told, she was starting to enjoy herself after the last man had warmed her up. And while she would hate herself later, right now all she wanted was sweet release.

He hefted her into the air and bounced her up and down his erection with ease. Vesper threw her legs around his body and locked her ankles, her heels remaining on her feet only because they were strapped down.

He stepped back, almost toppling over, and pushed her against a concrete pillar. Vesper moaned wildly, throbbing and tingling between her thighs, and refused to release him despite being pounded so hard she was forced up and down the pillar until her back was red and sore.

But it wasn't pain that caused her to cry out for more.

Then suddenly, and much too quickly, he screamed and his face went red.

"No," Vesper cried. "Not yet!"

He stumbled back, pushing her against a nearby sports car, and let out another shout as he humped her body and painted her insides with his seed. He didn't last very long, and when he was finished he gave her a kiss on the mouth and tried to walk away.

Vesper, her abused body crying out for release, refused to let him go. She mashed her lips against his and squeezed with her legs. She was crazed, in another state of mind entirely, but also quite weak and exhausted, and he had little problem prying her ankles apart and getting away from her as fast as he could.

That was a first: Quantum agents running away from her.

Vesper, wearing nothing but high-heels and a few accessories, found herself all alone. And still terribly aroused.

She leaned against the car and pleasured herself: thumbing her clitoris while holding her labia apart and working the sensitive pink inside. It took but a few moments to reach orgasm, and she screamed, pretty face contorted, and came all over her fingers.

She closed her eyes, physically and emotionally drained, and had to struggle to remain on her feet. She wanted nothing more than to fall to her knees and weep: not just for the man held captive, but also for herself and anyone who had ever trusted her, for those who had believed unwaveringly in the young woman with a good heart and a penchant for loyalty.

For those who didn't know the true Vesper: the sweaty, trembling whore standing naked in a public car park.

She wiped the wetness from her cheeks and stumbled around like a drunk until she found her clutch and the wetnaps inside. She cleaned up as best she could before slipping her dress back on, then reapplied her makeup, dabbed on some perfume, and hurried out into the night.

She paid no attention to the stares her hard nipples and heaving cleavage attracted, so intent was she on getting back before the game came to an end. Bond was back, and this time she couldn't influence the outcome or hope Le Chiffre could pull off a win against such a talented player.

No, she had to be there in person to make sure everything went as planned. And to keep on eye on the winnings.

"Just in time," René Mathis said as she slinked up beside him, casting a quick but discreet glance at her breasts. "The game is starting to heat up."

Vesper's face betrayed nothing. "So it is," she said softly.