Erin on the Gambling Table Ch. 02

Erin on the Gambling Table (Overhauled).

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Chapter II. A Game You Can't Win.

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"Good morning, sleepy head," she heard the voice greeting her. Not her grey-eyed captor's silky voice, but a cheerful and playful female voice.

Erin turned around and straightened up.

Before her stood the figure of a young woman, although a few years older than her, likely in her late twenties, with a tall, slim but well-toned body, and a gorgeous amber gaze fixed on the redhead. Her skin was white, probably of a similar tonality, but she sported a light tan that made it look considerably darker compared to Erin's fair complexion. Long, golden blonde hair, arranged in a messy but nice-looking ponytail draped all the way to her upper back. She was dressed in a plain, fitted white crop top and a red pencil miniskirt.

Erin stared at her expectantly. She didn't expect to see another person but her captor for a very long time, especially so soon. Her mind immediately lit up with the possibility of escape, but her caution prevented her from saying anything.

So absorbed in her own thoughts and her surprise she was that for a moment it made her forget she was completely naked in front of a stranger. Once she realized it, she instinctively reached for her clothes, deeply embarrassed, only to remember she only had two pieces of clothing, both transparent. Blushing deeply, she crawled under the covers. The blonde girl couldn't help but laugh at her awkwardness and distress.

"No need to be shy dear, you look so lovely," the stranger reassured her, but Erin remained under the covers with her embarrassment for a while, until the blonde's gentle reassurance and the intoxicating smell of breakfast drove her out.

Just like the man had done the day before, the girl brought a silver platter full of food into the room and started arranging the table. This time around, she had brought her what looked like a finely made omelet and something else she didn't recognize at first; it looked like pieces of bread, but as red as a strawberry, and covered in cream and chocolate.

Those meals were little moments of happiness in otherwise sorrowful days. She hated herself for enjoying them; they were one of her captor's ways to try to control her, but she couldn't help it.

"You're wondering where he is, aren't you?" the girl's voice interrupted her thoughts, "Tired dear, very tired. Have you ever heard the expression 'quit while you're ahead?' He believes quite the opposite. When his sessions are going well, he just can't stop. It seems last night was a particularly good one. You should be glad; now that you're in this current situation, whatever is good for him is good for you. Don't worry, he should be up in a couple more hours. In the meantime, he sent me up here to bring you breakfast. I'm Justine, by the way. I cook around here."

Still smiling, she brought a teapot into the room.

"Technically, I'm breaking the rules. He made it clear he didn't want me to give you any hot water, but by the time he arrives it will already be at room temperature, so I think it will be alright. It will be our little secret. It is a special blend, to welcome you to the house."

Erin couldn't take her eyes off the girl. Was she supposed to ask for help? Was it a trap? The situation was so strange she couldn't begin to figure out what to do. Did Justine know what was going on? She behaved like she was completely oblivious of the situation. But at the same time, she seemed to be hinting that she knew. Even if she did know, would she be willing to help her?

Finally, her caution couldn't hold her any longer. She didn't want to get in trouble, but the opportunity was too good to pass.

"Could you... Could you help me escape?" she pleaded.

Justine looked at her with a tender look full of genuine pity.

"Oh, honey... Do you think if there was even the slightest chance that I would he'd let me come up?"

Erin hung her head in defeat. It was painfully obvious in retrospect. She cursed herself for having thought such a thing would work.

"I'm sorry, dear, don't take it personal. It's just... life, I guess. Don't be sad; I'm sure you're going to learn to enjoy it very much."

"Are you a slave too? Is that why you won't help me?" she asked, her voice sad and embarrassed.

"No, dear. I'm an employee. I get paid very well for doing a very pleasant and comfortable job. I'm not willing to lose it, and I'm absolutely not willing to antagonize the wrong people."

Erin cursed her under her breath.

How can someone refuse to help in a situation like this just to earn money...?

A few moments passed in silence, and Justine went back to arranging the table.

"Would you at least not tell him I asked you that? I don't want to get another beating..."

Justine's eyes lit up and a mischievous smile drew across her lips. "Another? Turn around, I want to see..."

A day before she would have told her off. She wished she still had enough strength to do so. But she was so demoralized she could barely try to refuse.

Justine wouldn't take no for an answer.

"If you want me to keep quiet, you'll have to do something for me, won't you? Then again if you don't mind the punishment..."

Ashamed, the small redhead turned around and stood naked on all fours, like a dog in the vet's clinic, while Justine examined her battered buttocks. Though no longer bright red, light bruises and marks of the beating lingered.

"Oh, that must have hurt," she told her while gently caressing her. Erin's face was red, but Justine's touch was so tender, "Don't worry, it doesn't seem like he hit you that bad, it won't leave any permanent scars."

Not that bad?!... She wanted to strangle her, but the soothing touch and the fear of punishment kept her still.

Justine continued to caress her slowly, lovingly brushing the bruises with her fingertips. Without warning, she moved a finger between Erin's legs and started rubbing her clit. Erin didn't move; she wanted to protest, but a little moan came out instead. There was something about the girl's touch that was extremely comforting.

"You're so cute. I can see why he likes you," Justine told her fondly, then removed her hand, and continued preparing the table.

Erin turned around to face her again. Justine was still smiling cheerfully, and it looked like she was done with her task.

"Well, here you go, sweetie. This is an omelet; it's made with prosciutto, caramelized onions and gorgonzola. This other thing," she said, pointing at the red bread, "I call it 'red velvet French toast'. I hope you enjoy it."

She walked up to Erin, lifted her chin and planted a gentle kiss on her lips. Once again, Erin didn't protest, she meekly let the strange girl take what she wanted. After the kiss, she stayed for a moment staring at the door and thinking about the girl, feeling dumbfounded and confused, but soon the smell reminded her she was starving, and she set her thoughts aside to enjoy her meal.

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"Have you figured out who I am yet?"

The man returned nearly three hours later. Erin was not happy to see him. She frowned and curled her petite body away.

"If you want to beat me up just go ahead and do it," she replied flatly, without turning her eyes towards him, "just please stop mocking me. I already told you I don't know you."

The man didn't answer right away. He knew he had to punish her, but he couldn't find it in him to do it. The girl looked adorable lying in bed like that, completely naked, exposing her lovely freckled body for him to see.

"I'll tell you what. I'm adding a rule to this game. You can ask me one question every day to help you figure out who I am. I promise I'll answer truthfully."

Erin considered his offer skeptically. Most likely it was just his way to make fun of her; play with her mind. There was, however, something strangely familiar about him, but even then, she didn't trust him to tell her the truth.

Ultimately though, she knew it was useless to resist. She wondered why she even bothered. With a sigh, she sat on the edge of the bed and thought about it for a moment, figuring if she had to play his game, at least she could try taking any possible advantage he would give her.

"Are you absolutely certain I'd recognize you if you told me who you are?"

Her question made him chuckle. It was going to be a long time before she was able to figure it out.

"Yes, and you darling, need to learn to ask better questions, because I'd already told you that. Now, what's my name?"

She looked at him up and down once again, and made another effort, but just as before, she had no idea who he was. Resigned, she just gave him his best guess; the name of a boy she had dated back in high school. The man expression showed slight insult, but otherwise he just told her she was wrong. Erin sighed again, knowing it was time for her punishment.

"Would you please not hit me?" she pleaded meekly. The words made her gag. It felt utterly degrading to beg not to be abused, and even more because she was certain it would do no good to her, it would only make him enjoy it more, but her thighs still hurt and she wasn't sure she could stand another session.

"What happened to 'If you are going to hit me just get it over with'?" His tone had become slightly cold compared to the good mood he had when he arrived, perhaps, she thought, provoked by her guess.

"It was a stupid thing to say. I'm sorry. Please, don't do it, I'm still sore."

The girls voice sounded sad and the apology looked genuine.

The man sat on his chair without saying anything, trying to figure out what to do. He wasn't looking forward to letting her get away with making requests. She was a slave; it was his desires what mattered, not hers. He enjoyed hitting her; watching her little body squirm and twist with every stroke and hearing her thanking him every time was a pleasure that compared to very few things in life. At the same time, he didn't want to push her too far.

The whole situation presented him with an interesting challenge he didn't expect to encounter so early: Not punishing Erin was simply not an option. Not only because he wanted to punish her; she needed to learn to obey him. He figured he could let her avoid the spanking, but if he was truly going to cave to her request, then it was not enough to just punish her; it needed to be even harsher. The question was how to reconcile the two.

His eyes were drawn to the closet, and an idea popped up in his mind. He had intended to save it for later, worried it might be too much for the girl at the beginning, but the new circumstances had changed his mind.

The man phoned Justine and asked for four things: A bottle of white wine, a dessert that would go well with the wine and could be eaten with bare hands, a glass, specifically one shorter than a white wine glass since he needed it to be harder to spill, and a platter large enough to fit it all comfortably.

Erin looked at him deeply confused. "Is... eating dessert going to be my punishment?"

"You'll see."

Justine arrive shortly with a Moscato and a bowl of cherries covered in white chocolate. She placed the cherries and the glass on a platter on the table, gave Erin a mischievous look then retired from the bedroom.

He commanded her to stay on the bed without eating anything, then went into the closet, without saying what he was looking for, and returned shortly with a small black box of some sort.

Erin stared at the box, unsure of what it was. Once he was closer, she managed to get a good look at it and noticed the wires and pads attached it. She recoiled in terror, realizing it was an electroshock device.

"Oh, God, don't use that on me!" she yelled, "Please, anything but that!"

The device wasn't particularly powerful or particularly vicious. It didn't look especially frightening either. It was really just a toy. But that didn't matter. She was deeply scared of electricity. She had been all her life.

The man knew it very well. It was the very reason why he had planned to save it for later. He had figured once the girl was more comfortable it might be an interesting limit to explore. Watching her reaction made him second guess his choice, but it was too late to change it.

He gave her a stern look. It was the same look he had given her the day before when he threatened to gag her. It was especially terrifying to her; cold, unyielding, unforgiving, intimidating.

"Come here, slave." He commanded. His voice was so firm her body obeyed almost on its own.

Part of him loved her like that, simply vulnerable and afraid. He just hoped the girl would be able to take the punishment.

"I know you're scared of electricity, but there's nothing to be afraid of this little thing. It's just a stimulation device; it's not going to kill you, it's not going to burn you, it's not even going to hurt as much as the belt. You're just going to feel a mild stinging sensation though the body. Now, this is going to be your punishment today. You can be a good girl and cooperate, or you can resist me, in which case I'll tie you to the bed and shock you harder. What's it going to be?"

"Please..." she pleaded again, "Why are you doing this to me? Please... Just... beat me up then. I'm sorry I ever said anything."

"Tied to the bed it is then," he replied flatly, without any hint of emotion.

"NO!" she grabbed his arm to stop him. The gesture was instinctive, mostly done out of fear. Almost immediately she realized that she had yelled at him and was now trying to physically struggle with him. Scared, she immediately removed her hand, and tried to appear as submissive as she could instead, worried he might punish her even harder now.

"Please... I... I'll cooperate. I'll be good," She told him, holding back tears.

To her relief, the man ignored her outburst. He sat on the chair and ordered her to kneel before him, then placed the platter on the floor, right between the two of them. He hooked one end of the device to the platter, then the other end to her right nipple.

"Now, today you'll be a good slave and hold this platter for me while I eat, "he started explaining. His voice sounded calm, but cold, "I attached the positive end of the device to the platter and the negative end to you. Once you grab the platter, you'll create a circuit and it'll start shocking you. The rules are simple: One, you're going to hold it at the height of your chest. Two, you can't drop it and you can't put it down unless I say so. Three, you're going to endure this in silence. I don't want to hear you scream, complain, or even speak, unless I tell you to. Do you understand?"

She opened her mouth to reply but stopped herself and nodded timidly instead.

The man leaned forward, looking at her intently with the same stern expression, and commanded her to raise the platter. Erin took a deep breath and tensed her entire body. The moment she grabbed it, she began shaking and an expression of pain drew across her face as a weak but continuous stinging sensation began running through her. She almost dropped the platter but managed to get herself under control, even being able to open her eyes and stare back at him.

The electric current wasn't unbearable, but it made it impossible to think about anything else. She only knew that she had to do it. The man started eating and drinking slowly, much slower than he usually did, never breaking eye contact. After what seemed like an eternity to her, even though it was only a few minutes, she couldn't hold back her tears anymore.

"Open your mouth," he commanded.

The man started feeding her cherries. She realized that even though she couldn't enjoy them, focusing on the flavor distracted her from the pain and made the whole experience more bearable. The room was in complete silence except for the sound of the glass and the porcelain bowl shaking against the silver platter.

"You like the cherries, don't you? They help distract from the pain," he asked. Erin nodded weakly in response.

The man paused for a moment to admire the girl. He could feel the blood already rushing to his cock.

"Then what are you waiting for? Thank me!"

Erin didn't answer. She wasn't even sure she could speak at that moment without screaming or breaking entirely.

"Why are you so ungrateful? Do you need me to increase the pain to make you talk?"

"No, please! I'm sorry!" she cried. Her voice was ragged but came out a little louder than normal.

A few moments passed.

"Did I tell you stop?" he asked in the same harsh tone.

Erin opened her eyes and looked at him again. He was still staring at her intimidatingly. She knew he wanted her to degrade herself, like the night before, but the words wouldn't come out of her mouth. She tried pleading with him with her eyes but he didn't budge, instead he moved his hand towards the controls of the box.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out between tears, "I'm so sorry, Sir. I'm sorry I'm such an ungrateful bitch. I'm sorry I'm so pathetic and weak. I don't deserve you. I don't deserve your kindness and your generosity. I need to be punished. I need to be shocked and beaten until I learn my place. Please, Sir, please don't stop punishing me."

The man smiled. Not a warm smile but one of satisfaction at a job well done. In the same hard tone, he commanded her to put down the platter slowly and remove the pad from her nipple. The stinging stopped but she couldn't stop shaking or crying.

"Was it as bad as you thought it would be?"

Erin shook her head. It was more an instinctive answer than a truthful one. She was just glad that it was over.

The man finally relaxed his expression. He gently caressed her left cheek, wiping away her tears, then leaned back and pulled her towards him, planting a wet kiss on her lips. She wanted to resist but found herself too weak to do it. When he broke the kiss, he kept her standing very close to him, mere millimeters away from each other, feeling her breath and the warmth of her skin.

"That was an intense punishment," he told her tenderly, "it's only our second day, and you took it like a champ. I'm proud of you."

Erin looked away in shame. "I don't want you to be proud of me," she replied.

The man grabbed her mane and gently pulled her to the bed. Erin stumbled a bit a first but found enough balance to walk. He made her kneel on the bed on all fours, then pushed her face down, like the day before, but this time rather than tying her hands behind her back he placed them under her torso, parallel to her legs, and tied her wrists and ankles together. The position applied a lot of pressure to her neck. It was by far the most restrictive and uncomfortable she had ever been.

The night before she had felt that it wasn't possible to feel more ashamed. Now she knew she was wrong. She felt she looked like a complete whore in front of this stranger who had kidnapped her. The worst part was she knew she was getting wet, and now she was completely exposed for him to see. She couldn't see his face, but the image of him smiling kept popping in her mind. She wished she could die right then.

The man began brushing his hand against her ass and hips, lightly scraping her skin with his fingernails. He noticed her muscles would tighten up every time.

"Such a shame," he lamented, "This position... It's perfect for a spanking."

He paused for a moment, but continued brushing her skin, smiling, noticing the girl panicking over his words. He knew she didn't trust him. He knew she was thinking he was going to punish her again.

"...but I guess I did make a promise. Another time." He finally said.

He stopped and walked away from the bed. She could hear him moving around the closet but could not tell what he was doing. It seemed like she was waiting forever before he returned. She heard the sound of a vibrator, followed immediately by his voice telling her to relax and enjoy.