(With apologies for any errors in poker play or betting)



Inspired by the art of Bishop.

She was a pretty good poker player for an amateur, but even the best professional in the world can’t win if the cards won’t cooperate. After three hours of play and a run of terrible luck, the pile of chips she had started with had dwindled to the point where she knew that one more lost hand would see her cleaned out.

Maybe a professional player would have accepted that it just wasn’t his night and cut his losses long before, but she had been so sure, so certain that her luck would change, that she had carried on far beyond the point of common sense. Doing her best to hide her dismay, she anted up and watched anxiously as the man opposite her dealt five cards to her, praying that, this time, her hand would be the one that would make up for all her losses.

Sliding the cards across the green baize of the table, she held them concealed in her left hand and carefully fanned them with right, her pulse beginning to race as she saw the selection she had been given. The eight, nine, ten and Jack of Spades, with only the four of Hearts to spoil the sequence, gazed up at her and as her brain calculated the odds of her filling the straight, or at least of successfully making the flush, she realised that this was the chance she had been waiting for.

The flush would be a good hand, the straight would be even better and provided that her opponent had a reasonable hand, too, she was in with a golden opportunity to come away from the evening with a profit.

“I’ll just take one,” she said, keeping her voice flat and level as she discarded the Heart.

“Hmm,” the man muttered, “So the little lady’s trying to fill her boots, huh? Dealer takes two.”

He might have three of a kind and looking for the fourth, or be hoping for a flush or run.
She didn’t know .. couldn’t know ... but that was poker ... Her fate lay in the single card that lay face down in front of her and as she slid it towards her, she felt the ripple of excitement that all gamblers know when everything hangs in the balance, to be won or lost. It was a great card, a fabulous card, everything she could have hoped for ... the seven of Spades ...

“I’m in for a hundred.”

“Your hundred and a hundred more.”

“And another two hundred.”

“I think you’re bluffing, little lady. So let’s see. Another two hundred and fifty.”

“Your two fifty and up two fifty.”

“And five hundred more.”

To stay in the game took almost a third of what she had left, but she had a strong hand and besides, if she dropped out now, she would lose what she had already wagered. She had little choice but to carry on and hope for the best.

“Five hundred and I raise one thousand,” she tried to keep her voice steady, but knew he must have heard the slight tremor as she pushed all but a few of her chips forward.

“I still think you’re bluffing, honey,” the dealer said calmly, “But I know that I’m not. So I’ll match your thousand and just to make it interesting, how about I add another twenty-five hundred.”
She didn’t have that much and he knew it.

“I-I don’t have enough money with me,” she said slowly, “But you’ll take my marker, right?”
“Now don’t get me wrong, honey, but this is a cash game.” He shook his head, “I’d like to help you out, but if you ain’t got the money, then I guess you gotta fold.”

“But I’m good for it!” she protested, “Give me a break, huh?”

“Nope. Either you put cash on the table or I take the pot.”

“But-But that’s not fair! I-I’ve got a good hand.”

“So have I.” he said flatly, then smiled, “Tell you what, though. I’ll make you a deal. How about I let you match my bet and if you win, you pay me back an extra five hundred. But if you lose ... well ... you’re a good-looking woman and I could use some female company. So if I win, you spend the weekend with me and do whatever I want you to do. How does that sound?”

To her, it sounded like a pretty one-sided deal, but she was in no position to negotiate anything better.

It was the only chance she was going to get to recover her losses….and she did have a straight flush.
“O-K.” she agreed reluctantly and as he nodded and pushed a mound of chips to the centre of the table, she took a deep breath and said, “I c-call.”

“So, let’s get to it then, honey. And as it’s my money you’re playing with, why don’t you show first.”
She hesitated, then shrugged and laid her cards face-up on the green baize. The dealer gazed at the hand fanned out in front of her and nodded slowly.

“You weren’t bluffing then. That’s a pretty good hand, all right. Better than pairs of fives and Queens anyway.”

With a squeal of delight, she reached out to scoop in the pot ... then froze as he continued, “but not better than a pair of fives and three little ladies ...”

And as the three Queens seemed to smile mockingly up at her stricken face, she gulped nervously, realising that she had lost and was going to have to pay the debt with her body ...

Much as she craved the buzz she always got out of high-stakes gambling and relished the thrill of risking more than she could really afford, this time she knew she was in way over her head. Given a little time, she could have scraped the money together, but the dealer insisted on the terms she had agreed and she couldn’t refuse without being branded a welcher and most likely banned from playing the game she loved. Even so, if she had had any idea what he had in mind, she would have taken that chance.

Only she hadn’t known and agreed to follow him to his house, where, after a couple of drinks, he told her that he wanted to tie her up and reminded her that their deal was that she would do whatever he wanted. She didn’t really want to be tied, but had accepted his terms and couldn’t very well back down, so tried her best to accept it and be casual, imagining he would use something like a scarf, “I can do that.”

Except he didn’t use a scarf. He used white nylon cord to bind her wrists behind her back and when he crossed and bound her ankles, she found herself helpless and unable to escape. Alarmed by her situation, she tried to struggle and protest as he began to lace a thick, heavy, leather posture-collar and gag combination around her neck and lower face, but as its internal ball-gag forced its way past her lips and into her mouth, she was reduced to muffled and incomprehensible moans and whimpers.

Lifted and carried belly-down over his shoulder, her short dress rode up all the way to her waist and as his hand clamped on her buttocks and his fingers kneaded her firm bottom-cheeks, she felt an undeniable and unexpected ripple of arousal warm her belly at his arrogant touch. For the first time in her life she was at the mercy of another person, with no control over what happened to her ... and she found to her surprise, that she rather liked the feeling. A little frightened, perhaps, but pleasurably excited and intrigued to find out what other surprises he had in mind.

The basement store-room was bare and starkly functional, illuminated by low-wattage bulbs and as he lowered her to her feet and tethered her to an overhead beam with a length of cord, she knew she wasn’t going anywhere unless he released her. When he rolled down the top of her dress, then cinched and bound her bare breasts with more of the cord, she understood that he wasn’t about to free her any time soon. With her wrists pushed up to her shoulder-blades and tied to the rear of the posture-collar, she was even more helpless and far less comfortable, but apart from whimpering into her gag and gazing pleadingly at him, there was nothing she could do.

Just as there was nothing she could do when he untied her ankles, removed her high-heeled boot from her left foot and bound her right leg doubled-up behind her to other roof-beams. Without the extra inches of her high-heel, she was forced to balance on the toes of her left foot and although her stretched muscles immediately complained, she had no choice but to endure the additional discomfort as best she could, all the time humiliatingly aware that her flimsy panties were on show and so tightly stretched over her sex that she might as well have been naked.

That was not a concern that would worry her very long, for as the dealer hung a multi-tailed flogger over her right thigh, then coated a huge vibrator with lubricant and cheerfully informed her that he’d give her half an hour or so of electronic stimulation to get her in the mood before she began to start paying-off her gambling debt to him, she knew that her embarrassment would soon be the least of her problems.

Apart, of course, from where she was going to get the stake-money for the following week’s poker game.

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