Erin on the Gambling Table

Erin on the Gambling Table (Overhauled).

A story about love, lust, power and control.

This series includes: Non-Consent, hard BDSM, power play, slavery, (fucked up) romance, deception, revenge, drugs, gambling, mystery, a dominant guy and a submissive girl.

Author's note: I like detail, setting up the ambience and developing my characters. I try to keep it sexy and erotic throughout the whole thing, but I'm just saying, if you are looking for a one-page story that jumps straight to sex, this one is probably not what you're looking for...but there's no need to rush, is there? Just relax, get into the story, and let my words drive you into ecstasy... Oh and leave a comment if you like it ;)

- Serpens

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Chapter I. The Gambler.

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"Do we have a deal, then?" the woman asked kindly.

The woman was not what he had been expecting when he was referred to the company. He imagined the head of this kind of company would be some fat pig with a pinky ring. Instead, he had gotten this middle-aged, soft-spoken, well-dressed woman. It was the tone of her voice he had found particularly curious; extremely kind, almost motherly, similar to that of a kindergarten teacher. Her office was not what he was expecting either; to the unassuming eye, it was just the office of any corporate executive, albeit a fancy one, tastefully decorated. Part of him wished he had gotten the fat pig in a dirty room; something about this woman's gentle demeanor and soft voice, how they contrasted with the sinister topic they were discussing, unnerved him.

The man was not looking at her, but at the wall, absorbed in his thoughts. His face betrayed no emotion, but his mind was going back and forth between anticipation and concern. Being in that room making that deal was something he had fantasized about for a long time, but it was one thing to imagine and another to make it a reality.

"Are you sure you can pull this one off?" He said, turning his eyes back to the woman, "This is not some god-forsaken drug addict from the streets of China or Russia, like the ones you usually sell. This toy has plenty of people who'll look for her."

The woman smiled reassuringly.

"Would you like me to tell you stories? Emily Hart, for example. 4.0 student. Ivy League School... How about Sarah Lawrence? Banker father's little princess. Can you guess where they are now? You're not the first person who asks for something like this. You won't be the last. One doesn't become the best in this business without knowing how to handle some minor inconvenience."

The smooth, expensive whisky went down his throat like sludge. He nodded, despite his distrust. He knew he was already too committed to the idea to turn back. He could already see the girl in his bed, tied up, squirming, and moaning in pleasure.

"I want her unharmed. Completely unharmed. Get her unconscious for the trip. And no training for her. She's a fragile little thing. If you put her in a cage and beat her, she'll snap. I'm not interested in a broken toy."

The woman looked at him, slightly disappointed; the training of this toy was something she had been looking forward to. She didn't usually train them, but there were a select few for whom it was worth making an exception, and that little thing was well worth it. Just by looking at the pictures she could imagine the toy in the dungeon: the way she'd tremble in fear when being chained to the pole, the horror on her face when she saw the whip, the sound of the whip cracking against her delicate skin and the delicious scream afterwards, the tears flowing from her eyes, the way she would twist around in pain. Her personal favorite, though, was the sobbing and begging; she used to say it was like music to her ears, and that little toy looked like such a delicious singer.

In truth, he had meditated on whether not letting them train her was the best course of action. He had never done anything quite like that. It worried him that he could not deal with everything, that he might not be able to subdue her, but after seeing what those people did to the girls, the way they caged them in cold basements and tortured them until their minds broke, he knew he couldn't subject her to something like that.

More whisky. "I will transfer the funds to your account. $350.000, in bitcoin, as we agreed."

"Then we have a deal."

She smiled, pleased, and shook his hand. "It was a pleasure, Mr. Gavin. Enjoy your new toy."

-----

The day was June 15

th

. Erin had just arrived home from one of the most miserable days of her life. The 15

th

of every month was the day her company checked the balance of the previous month. For the last six months she had been losing money, and this day was no exception.

Erin was a smart girl from a middle-class background. Beautiful, cultivated and talented, she was the daughter every parent dream to have.

For the longest time, all she had dreamed about was to be able to live life in her own terms. So, when she was 18, she decided to go to business school. After graduating with honors, she borrowed some money from her parents to start her own fashion company.

She began her journey with a smile on her lips, figuring all she had to do was work hard, bring the passion, and apply all the lessons she'd been taught. After three years in the business, she had discovered just how brutal the fashion industry was. No investments, few clients, and no matter how hard she worked, things never seemed to improve. Now, at 23, a point in which her journey was supposed to be barely beginning, her life was on the edge of collapse. Soon she would have no money to keep the company going.

She had arrived home early that day. Taking a day off in the middle of a crisis was making her feel mightily guilty. She knew the right thing to do would've been to work even harder to turn things around, but she just couldn't, not that day.

When she opened the door, happy barks welcomed her.

"Hi, baby! Did you miss me?" she greeted the pup in a childish voice.

She'd had pets all her life, but that fluffy golden retriever was her favorite. She used to say it was the happiest dog in the world. She had named him Achilles.

Had it been a person answering the door, he would've noticed her broken expression. But perhaps that's what makes dogs especial. The fur ball doesn't understand sadness, money problems, or failure, only happiness and love, and in such a day, it's enough to put a genuine smile on her lips, the first of the day.

She played with the pup for a bit, but it didn't last long. Her body was itching to get out of her work clothes. The loyal fur ball didn't seem to mind. He obediently followed her to her bedroom, waiting for the time his owner is ready to take care of him again.

Slowly, tired, she pulled her red hair out of buns and let it drape down her back, slid out of her work dress, flung the heels that have been torturing her feet the whole day aside, and removed her silken panties.

It was during those moments, when she took off her clothes and was left only with herself and her sensations -- the disappointment bubbling like black tar in her belly; the fear of letting people down—that she felt the loneliest.

Perhaps it was because she was feeling emotional and vulnerable, but her body was extremely sensitive that day. She would've given anything to have someone at home to comfort her. Someone to hold her like she was a mental patient and he was the jacket. As much as she loved Achilles, her dog couldn't comfort her the way she needed.

It had been a long time since she had gone on a date. She thought about it and figured it had been almost six months. The only love she had gotten recently was from the vibrator she kept in her room. The problem was not that men didn't want her. Erin was quite an attractive girl and every day she had more than a few people, even women, inviting her on dates. The problem was that she was always so busy she didn't have time for dates, let alone relationships.

Once she was fully naked, her eyes were drawn to the mirror. She sighed a little as she stared at the image across the dimly lit room. Staring back at her was a pair of gorgeous azure, almost violet, eyes, watching through strands of a wild copper mane freely falling across her face. The reflection of a beautiful girl with a broken smile.

Looking at herself made her want to cry. All alone because she worked so hard, she didn't even have time for Tinder hook-ups, and for what? A company that was going howling into hell.

She shook her head trying to get those thoughts out of her mind. That evening was not going to be an evening of feeling sorry for herself, it was going to be a new start. She took her phone and ordered some food at her favorite Sushi restaurant, then grabbed a few scented candles and bath salts and started preparing a nice bath.

While she waited for the bath, she grabbed her vibrator. With one hand she started gently caressing her large, round breasts, with the other she held the wand between her legs nudging against her neat little lips, sliding over her cleanly shaven flesh, slowly increasing the intensity. She closed her eyes and began moaning softly, letting the pleasure fill her, imagining herself in a happier place, and feeling her orgasm building up.

It didn't take long before her toes curled, her clit began pulsing and her body started shaking. She flopped happily on the bed and giggled, then returned to the bathroom to take her bath.

She slipped into the bathtub slowly, easing her hourglass figure into the steaming suds, feeling the bubbles cling to her creamy, freckled skin atop her breasts, and letting her locks float gently in the hot water.

If only she could stay there the rest of her life. No more problems, no more bullshit, just the warmth of the water, the calming steam in the room, and the delicious vanilla scents caressing every muscle of her body.

Pretty soon I would look like an old lady... Wrinkled and ugly, like Aunt Lucy.

The thought made her stifle a giggle.

"Oh, who cares? You'd still love me, wouldn't you?" she mused, now out loud, to the golden ball of fur that kept guilting her with his big brown eyes into playing fetch, refusing to leave her alone.

When she was done, she dried herself, put on a silken nightgown and made a cup of tea to have with the sushi. It was particularly delicious that day, and she ate it happily. Finally, she did some yoga to relax and blow off whatever little energy remained in her body. Then she put on an ASMR playlist and went to sleep, feeling that her life was about to take a turn for the better.

It was around one in the morning when she woke up, thanks to Achilles barking incessantly.

"Baby, come on... I'm so tired," she muttered softly.

Erin was barely aware of what was happening around her, still only half-awake and trying to go back to sleep. Achilles, on the other hand, was fully aware of the danger and did not stop.

"Baby, come on, it's nothing," she repeated. Achilles was a somewhat nervous dog and barked at almost anything—from birds to passers-by— so she didn't think much of it.

Achilles sprinted towards the front door, out of the bedroom and her sight. After a few moments, she heard him yelp, and the barking stopped. Erin straightened up worried.

"Achilles? Baby are you okay?" she cried.

At that moment, she saw a large figure emerging from the dark. Horrified, she tried to get out of bed only to feel two men roughly grabbing her arms and legs and holding her down.

Erin tried to fight back but it was in vain; the tiny girl was no match for her assailers. Before she could scream, one of them had already stuffed a rag in her mouth. She was so terrified she thought she could see her heart beating through her night gown. When she saw the menacing figure in the dark approaching her, she thought she was going to pass out.

"Don't struggle, your owner doesn't want you to get hurt," The figure told her, but Erin didn't listen; her mind was screaming in terror.

"Just sedate her, you idiot!" barked one of the others. She let out a muffled scream as she felt a needle penetrating the skin of her right arm, then her entire world went dark.

-----

Erin woke up the next morning, or what she assumed was the next morning, disoriented and in pain. She was feeling nauseous, and every muscle of her body was aching. However, she was mostly just happy she had woken up from the horrible dream she'd had.

Still not fully awake, she sweetly called her dog, a little surprised he hadn't climbed on the bed already like he usually did.

"Achilles? Come here, baby..." she called him a few times, but there was no answer. She rubbed her eyes and, with some effort, sat up on the bed and started looking around for him, only to discover she was not in her flat anymore.

The room was grand and palatial, adorned with luxurious mahogany furniture and pieces of fine art, from paintings to statues. Its pristine marble floors were decorated with intricate shapes and patterns. An enchanting smell floated in the air. It would have been a wonderful thing to find herself in that bedroom, except she had no memory of how she'd gotten there.

She swung her legs off the side of the bed and slid off to stand. They wobbled dangerously and she had to sit back down. It took her a moment to be able to stand firmly, but she was determined to investigate her surroundings. She gingerly examined every detail of that room, running her fingers through every piece, like trying to make sure it was real. That place was not familiar to her, nor did she know any person wealthy enough to afford living there. She stepped into the walk-in closet to find it filled with expensive men's clothing, but no women's clothing.

Her first thought was that she had gone out, had drank too much, then followed a man back to his bedroom. She noticed she was still wearing her nightgown; that was her favorite nightgown and going out in it was not something she would have ever done. She realized in horror that her dream had not been a dream at all.

The sudden revelation took a moment to sink in. She started panicking, sweating and breathing heavily; she had to get out. She looked around the room for an exit. The room had massive glass doors leading to a garden. She frantically tried to open them and realized they were locked.

Of course, they are locked. They are not going to kidnap me and put me in this bedroom then leave the door open.

She felt stupid for even attempting it.

No, no time to wallow. I need something heavy to break the glass.

She took a bust from one of the shelves and lifted it overhead, ready to swing it as hard as she could against the glass. Behind her, she heard the sound of the main door open.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a deep masculine voice admonished her.

Erin turned around to find the figure of a tall and powerfully built man. He looked like he was about the same age as her, maybe slightly older.

The girl stopped and stared at him, without moving or saying a word, visibly terrified. In contrast, he seemed to be barely paying attention to her, as if everything about the situation was completely normal, standing and looking so casually that for a moment it made her consider last night's events had been a dream after all.

He didn't look at all the way she expected a kidnapper to look like. She had imagined someone ugly and sinister, not the handsome and pleasant man that was now looking at her. Even then, that did little to calm her nerves. He made for a very intimidating figure, especially for someone as petite as Erin, and if he wanted to hurt her, he could do it so easily and she wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

"That glass," he continued "is reinforced. It can stop bullets. You are not going to break it with that. You are only going to hurt yourself and upset me in the process."

The man carried a silver platter full of food into the bedroom. As if nothing was happening, he put it on the bed and invited her to eat. The food looked mouthwatering: eggs benedict, orange and lemon pancakes, strawberries covered with cream...

"Here," he told her with a smile, "eat. You must be starving."

Without waiting for her to respond, he began looking for something around the shelves, then moved to the closet.

Erin didn't move at first, stunned by confusion. Her first instinct was to simply ignore the platter. She didn't want to take any food from him, but she was in fact starving, as though she hadn't eaten in days, and the food was filling the room with an intoxicating smell that was making her weak.

She looked around a bit trying to figure out what to do. She could hear him moving around inside the closet, and she knew he would know if she tried anything. She thought about running but all doors were locked, and she had no idea where she was anyway.

It didn't take long for her to understand she was trapped. She figured there was not much else to do, except maybe wait and see who he was and what he wanted with her. Hesitantly, she approached the platter and started eating, mostly out of hope that if she didn't make trouble for him, he wouldn't try to hurt her. The food was as delicious as it looked and smelled, and managed to calm her down a bit.

"Easy now, you don't want to gain weight," he joked as he returned from the closet, but she didn't laugh, just continued to watch him apprehensively. The man sat down in a luxurious dark leather chair, smirking.

"What's your name?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.

The red-haired girl stared at him unsure. There she was, in a strange house located god knows where, covered only by her nightgown, in front of that large man that had kidnapped her, and the first thing he asked her is her name. Her mind was a mess.

The man didn't seem evil; that was the strangest part. She wondered if there was some sort of mistake, something she was missing. All she wanted was to go home. She feared for her life, and for her dog, alone in her apartment without anyone to take care of him.

"E-Erin," she finally answered timidly.

"Erin. It's a beautiful name. The personification of Ireland. All right, Erin, do you know why you're here?"

"I know that you kidnapped me." The tone of her voice showed something between nervousness, anger and fear.

The man didn't answer but he didn't stop smirking either. He seemed both oddly pleased with himself and extremely unconcerned with the situation.

"And tell me, Erin. Who am I?"

His question surprised her deeply. She looked at him up and down. The man had an oval-shaped face with charming features. His hair was short and dark brown, and it contrasted deeply with the ivory tone of his skin. He sported a full but short, well-groomed beard. His most distinctive feature was his piercing grey eyes, and the way they were fixed on her. A gaze that was cold and primal, like that of a wild animal, and made her feel so small and vulnerable.

His clothes denoted him clearly as wealthy. They were simple but visibly of fine quality; a black buttoned shirt rolled up to his elbows, dark jeans, a pair of wingtip boots made out of fine chestnut leather that made him appear even taller than he already was. His belt was also leather and in the same tonality; it looked very thick. Without knowing why, she couldn't help but wonder if this large man was going to hit her with it, and she squirmed at the thought of how much it would hurt. She also noticed he was sporting a large platinum watch on his left wrist.

Despite her reservations, she couldn't help but find him attractive. A man of wealth and taste, quite handsome, with the kind of large, well-toned muscles one gets in the gym, not by playing sports, though not quite the exaggerated, steroid induced look she hated about body builders. In normal circumstances she would've been delighted to see him.