Erin on the Gambling Table Ch. 02

Erin didn't know whether to press herself against the vibrator or move away from it. She knew it wouldn't be long before she was dripping, and she hated the idea of doing that for him, but it felt delicious against her skin, like velvet, and the position didn't leave her much choice.

Her sounds, a wonderful combination of moaning and sobbing began filling the room. He could feel her legs trembling as she was getting closer and closer to orgasm.

"Not yet, little slut," he said as he took away the vibrator.

She sighed. It seemed like every time she thought it couldn't get more humiliating, he was determined to prove her wrong.

Soon enough, she felt his fingers probing inside her pussy. She wasn't sure how many he put inside her but it definitely felt like too many. He moved around a bit inside her until he found a sensitive spot. Erin's whole body jumped, and her pussy tensed around his fingers, as he began stimulating her.

She screamed hard when the first orgasm began. He didn't give her any rest; instead he continued hitting the same spot, and her orgasm quickly flowed into a second and third one.

He gave her a moment to recover, letting her head swim with the intensity of the orgasm, while he took off his clothes.

A swat to her things made her yelp in surprise. It didn't really hurt but it startled her. She felt his cock touching the opening of her pussy, and started squirming as he slowly pushed it inside her. He began very slowly, making the most of the friction, forcing her to push against him, then built up his speed until she was screaming into the mattress.

He firmly grabbed her hips and started thrusting violently into her with very sharp, marked movements. She felt herself cumming almost without warning, feeling lightheaded with the intensity of it. As her orgasm subsided, she felt his cock pulsing inside her followed by the warmth of his cum flooding her pussy.

Then, overwhelmed by the abuse, the mind games, and the orgasms, she broke down crying.

"I don't understand... Why do you hate me so much? What could I have possibly done to you that you want to do this to me?"

The man grabbed her roughly and rubbed his fingers against her sex. It wasn't sex anymore. He was trying to make a point. His hand smeared the delicate skin of her face with the glistening juice of her pussy.

"Does this look to you like the way someone reacts when they hate what's being done to them?"

She wanted to struggle, but in her position, there was nothing to do but endure the humiliation her captor was inflicting upon her, until he left stopped and left her with her face smeared, thinking about why her body was betraying her like that.

"Could you at least not do that, please?" she mumbled, "I don't want to get pregnant. Or is that part of your sick plan?"

"You are on birth control," he told her in a calm tone, "but say that to me again and I will not only punish you, I will take the birth control away. Do you understand?"

"I'm sorry," she quickly apologized, visibly frightened.

Her captor relaxed his expression.

"It's all right," he told her while caressing her hair. "I forgive you."

When the man untied her, she fell onto the bed, unable to hold her own weight. Without much ceremony, he told her to clean herself, and that he would be back at night, then swiftly left the room.

Erin laid there, in silence, dripping and ashamed, wondering if for the rest of her life that was how sex was going to feel, that strange combination of tears and orgasm, of utter physical enjoyment combined with the awful humiliation.

---

"Would you please let me go outside?"

She tried her best to sound meek and unthreatening, unsure whether it was a good idea to ask him about it that day.

They were eating, as they usually did, but he seemed irritated and uninterested. She wanted to wait for a better day to ask, but simply couldn't wait anymore. Two days without leaving that bedroom were making her feel horribly trapped. The man didn't answer, just lifted one eyebrow skeptically and gave her a stern look.

"Come on, I've been locked in this bedroom for 2 days, I'm losing my mind. All I want is to be able to walk around the house now and then, visit the garden, make myself something to drink... Is that too much to ask?"

"Why? So that you can pick up a knife and stab me while I'm not looking?" he replied coldly and annoyed.

A knife? Where the hell am I supposed to hide a knife in this clothes, you jerk?

It took all her will to stop herself from shouting. With a deep breath, she tried to calm herself down and continued with the same meek, pleading tone.

"What do you want from me? You come here when you please, snap your fingers and I have no choice but to open my legs for you or I get a beating. Isn't that enough for you? You've made your point. I'm here forever. Can't you at least make it a little bit easier on me?"

Once more he didn't answer. He held her gaze with a cold, angry and unyielding look. Erin wanted to look away, afraid he would feel her staring as a challenge, but the man's gaze was powerful and commanding, and she found her eyes drawn towards his, unable to break eye contact. She only hoped she looked sad and pleading, rather than defying.

After a moment he sighed, and his expression relaxed a bit.

"Ask properly, and I may consider it."

She hesitated for a bit, mostly out of surprise that he hadn't dismissed her request altogether, then finally lowered her eyes submissively.

"Please Sir, may I be allowed to go outside? Please. You don't have to worry. I promise I'll be good."

Erin didn't dare look at him. She waited with her eyes lowered for an answer but none came.

"I'll think about it," was all he told her.

He finished his meal without making another sound, then retired. Erin curled up in the bed and cursed herself, feeling stupid, completely sure now he would never agree to let her take two steps outside.

Yet, to her surprise, he returned to the room only a couple of hours later. Found her watching a movie, still with an expression of frustration on her face.

"Here," was all he told her.

Erin tuned around to find, in absolute astonishment, he was handing her a tablet. She straightened out and held it in her hands; it was rose gold, sleek and beautiful, and it looked brand new.

"Now pay attention. I'm only going to say this once."

The man was standing straight with his legs shoulder-width apart and his hands behind his back, in a strict, almost military pose. Less angry than earlier, but still stern and unyielding. Erin put the tablet next to her in the bed, and fixed her eyes on him.

"From now on, days are going to be different. I gave you the first couple of days to relax and get used to your new home but it's time we start getting you into your new life. First, I set you a daily routine with all the things that a slave needs to do during the day, including exercising—especially exercising; at the rate you eat you're going to be overweight by the end of the month; I'd rather keep you nice and lean. Second, I'm going to be giving you daily tasks; read a specific book, style your hair in a specific way, practice a sexual skill... just simple things I expect to get done."

He paused for a moment, like waiting for a reaction, but she gave her none.

"With the tablet," he swiftly continued, "you can check the daily tasks, search the web if you need any help or send me a message if you need anything else. Whenever you're not busy, you can use it for whatever else you want. Also, I'm giving you permission to move freely around the house, including the gardens."

Her mind immediately lit up. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. The man was handing her a tablet with unrestricted access to the internet. She felt herself slightly jumping in excitement and did her best not to let it show. The man was, however, very aware of what she was thinking, and he did not waste any time cautioning her.

"Now, I know what you're thinking, so let's be clear. First, the tablet's activity is being tracked. If you try to use it to escape in any way, I'll know it. Second, the fact that I'm letting you roam the manor freely doesn't mean I will relax security one bit. Remember there are cameras all around. You can't leave the property, you can't go to the kitchen unsupervised, and you can't carry around anything that might be used as a weapon, especially anything heavy or sharp, or boiling water."

He started to sound angrier and more threatening. His mouth in particular was the most intimidating part. When angry, it lost most expression with only the left part of his upper lip twitching slightly, while he spoke through gritted teeth. Erin found herself slouching slightly, frightened by his expression.

"If you disobey any of these rules, I'm going to take these privileges away, chain you to a metal pole, hit you with a bullwhip until you bleed, then lock you in a dark, cold basement where there's nothing to do but stare at the ceiling until you go insane and nothing to eat but stale bread and water. Did I express myself clearly?"

She swallowed hard, terrified, but managed to nod in agreement.

He held her gaze for an instant, then without another word, turned around and walked towards the door, leaving her sitting in the bed frightened. Before leaving, he stopped to give one final warning.

"Erin, just one more time, for clarity's sake. I'm generous and easy going, if I'm allowed to be. Don't give me a reason not to be."

"I understand. I'll be good. I promise," she squeaked.

The room became completely silent, only the faint sound of his footsteps echoing through the halls remained for a few seconds, until they vanished as well. Erin remained sitting in the bed, holding the tablet and twirling it around in her hands, and thinking about the man, the fearsome expression in his grey eyes when he had told her with no hint of hesitation or remorse about the horrible things he would do to her if she disobeyed.

Despite his anger and sternness, a part of her was left wondering if he truly meant it. After all, he had bought her because he liked her. Would he really be willing to torture her and ruin her body? Maybe it he was telling her that just to scare her. She hated how he could control her by exploiting her fear of pain.

She wondered what he meant when he said the tablet was being tracked. Would it send some sort of alarm? Or was there someone in the house watching her 24 hours a day? The thought made her shudder.

Even if there was someone, could that person really stop her from asking for help? Maybe if she was quick enough... all she needed to do was send a simple message to the police. They would be able to track the tablet and get her out of there... but surely, they wouldn't be able to arrive before he found out and punished her; she would have to endure a whipping.

Her hand unconsciously reached back and started caressing right under her shoulder blade. What would she do with a marked back? What if it was more than she could take? She arched her back, trying to imagine the feeling, and to her surprise she could almost feel an electric shock running through her body.

Scared, she put down the tablet and took a few steps back.

"No, no... just stick to the plan," she told herself nervously, "He's still too distrustful. Get him to trust you first, then you can escape."

---

The days began passing without incident, and she started to settle into her new routine. Her daily tasks were relatively simple. Every day, she had to sit on her knees with her back straight and her hands resting on her thighs with the palms facing up and repeat a mantra out loud for 15 minutes. It was similar to some meditation exercises, except the mantras were sexual and humiliating:

"I am a slave; I belong to my master."

"I am a toy, for my master's use. I am nothing without him."

"I will beg to be used. When I'm not used by him, I am empty and incomplete."

"My body is his to use how he wants; my pussy needs to be fucked by him."

"My mouth is made for sucking, not speaking. I only speak when he allows me to speak, and only sweet words that please him."

"I only feel pleasure when he allows me to feel pleasure. I endure pain whenever he wants me to."

"My body, mind and heart belong only to him; He takes what he wants from me."

She had thought about simply not doing the mantras or maybe doing different, uplifting ones, but as with everything else, first out of fear, then out of resignation, she ended up complying.

He also forced her to learn more about her submissive role by reading an e-book he put in the tablet. The book was a sort of BDSM guide to being a submissive and included rules:

"A submissive is not allowed to talk without her master's permission."

"A submissive always addresses her master with respect."

"A submissive is never allowed to curse or to nag her master. It's her duty to always be pleasant, loving, and happy."

"The master's happiness and pleasure always come before hers, because in doing so she finds purpose and happiness herself."

"A submissive is always grateful to her master and thanks him for everything he does to her, even if she dislikes it, because she lives to please him."

She had to always kneel down and lower her head before him when he entered the room. Conversations started and ended when he decided. She wasn't allowed to leave a room as long as he was present, because she needed to make herself available to him at all times, and if she needed to leave, she needed to ask permission first. She wasn't allowed to touch herself; her body was his and only he could make her cum. At the beginning and end of the day, she was required to ask, "Do you have any needs that I can fulfill, Sir?" before starting with her day or going to bed respectively. And many other things of the same nature.

One thing that called her attention is she noticed he had added one rule: women were not allowed to wear pants. That particular rule she found the strangest. Everything else was about power between the master and the submissive; that specific rule was the only one that was seemingly different.

There was also a detailed description of all the things a master could, and should, do to his submissive. Although she still wouldn't admit it, some parts of the book fascinated her. More than once she found herself getting wet while reading. Some parts, however, terrified her.

Besides those two things the tasks were generally things she would have done herself anyway, such as style her hair or fix her makeup, but he enjoyed telling her in what specific ways he wanted them done. It amazed her how he was able to turn even the most common things into part of her training. She was no longer even in control of her own appearance. It made her feel like a doll, existing just for his pleasure.

The whole beauty routine was the oddest part for her. She expected him to start playing around with her appearance, but if anything, his tastes were much simpler than hers.

The man seemed to have an almost pathological aversion to clothing. To female clothing at least. He was always properly dressed, but for her, only the tiniest, most revealing outfits, things that more closely resembled trashy Halloween costumes than actual clothes, were allowed.

Before she was forced into the manor, makeup used to be her best friend. She never liked her own appearance very much, especially her freckles. They made her look too childish and prevented people from taking her seriously. At least that's what she believed. Makeup made her look flawless and sophisticated. The man loved lipstick, in particular in an intense vermillion color. Other than that, he allowed almost none, especially on her skin.

After a week, he had decided to make her help Justine in the kitchen. It was a chore, but a rather pleasant one, at least she had someone to talk to, and could spend time doing something she loved. Despite their awkward first encounter, Justine was cool, friendly, and cheerful, and they soon became friends, or at least something that felt like it in those circumstances.

After a few days letting her in the kitchen without any problems, he allowed her to make tea and drink it freely around the house, even if he still insisted on not having any boiling water around them.

He was very strict in terms of exercise and made her work out a couple of times a day; thirty minutes on the treadmill in the morning, before breakfast, then gym work in the afternoon to keep her lean and athletic, every day. Most of the training was soft enough though, since he had made it clear he hated muscular women.

He fucked her every day, at least once after waking up, and once at night, plus one or two times during the day if he had time. More than once, she found herself remembering the vibrator she kept back in her old room. It was impossible not to think that she had been reduced to only that; a sex toy, whose entire existence was about bringing pleasure to her owner then being conveniently stored away for the next time. At the same, the pleasure was undeniable. Never in her life had she had so much sex, or so good.

The fact that she was enjoying the sex was the toughest part to deal with. The excuse she had at first, about being so lonely any physical contact felt good, quickly became useless. She tried telling herself that it was just a sexual thing. It was possible to be physically attractive, to be a good lover, while at the same time being a horrible person. However, she couldn't stop the lingering feeling that something was deeply wrong with her, and she couldn't stop feeling humiliated every time the man held her down and made her orgasm until her knees trembled and her calves cramped. She had had to scold herself more than once when she caught herself secretly looking forward to their sessions. Part of her wondered if he was ever going to stop; her body was sore and tired from so much sex and punishment. Part of her secretly hoped he never would; that he would keep pounding her until she collapsed in blissfulness.

Much to her dismay, he wasn't bluffing about security in the manor. Escape seemed impossible. Even then, it felt wrong to think of it as a prison. Nothing about that beautiful place resembled a prison. It was a different world almost made for her. Everything in there was lovely, pleasant and luxurious. There were no worries or problems, just sleeping, fucking, eating, and enjoying herself. She enjoyed walking around, swimming in the pool and reading in the library. Her favorite part, taking long walks along the delicate rose bushes and sparkling fountains in the gardens.

As for him, she didn't see him much during the day since most of the time he was playing cards and wanted no distractions. However, they would always eat together, and he always made time to fuck her. Strangely enough, despite his rules, the man loved not just talking to her, but actually engaging her in conversation. He was a great conversationalist and always sounded genuinely interested in her, asking her about her day, her life, her interests, her feelings... She had decided to use that to her advantage and put effort into making as much conversation with him as she could.

One thing that kept bugging her is that she still had no idea who he was. Every day he would ask her if she knew his name, and every day she'd fail. Whenever she could, she tried to find out as much as possible about him, but he was very vague about his past, often giving her answers that applied to dozens of people. She knew he had gone to the same high school as her, but not to the same college, that she knew his family, that they had been friends at some point, but very little else. She had mentally gone through a list of every possible person that fit what he had told her about him, but still couldn't figure it out. Either he was lying, or he had changed so much he was now unrecognizable. One day she went snooping through the house to see if he had an ID, a passport, or something that would have his name on it. Much to her joy, she found he had left his wallet lying around, but when she read the name on the ID it only made her more confused. It said: "Cassius Gavin". She was positive she had never met anyone with that name. Almost immediately she realized it was probably a fake ID, and scolded herself for being so stupid.