A Compromising Position

The thief struggled relentlessly to release herself from the firm grip of the two stealthy bodyguards. She tried to get a better sense of her surroundings, but the small slits of the ski mask offered only limited vision. They lead her across the living room where they then ascended a long flight of stairs. She was dragged by her arms down a hallway and into a dimly lit den.

"I see we have a feisty one," she heard a husky voice proclaim from the far end of the room. Shadows fell upon a broad figure sitting at a desk, nursing a drink.

"A female this time," one of the guards commented, with a mischievous waggle of his bushy uni-brow.

As the man rose from his chair, his features could be more clearly seen. It was obvious by his tailored dark suit and the way he carried himself that he was one of discriminating taste. He held his drink and stroked his well kempt goatee a few times to suggest pensiveness. As he drew nearer to her, she couldn't help but notice his strong jaw line. He, indeed, was a highly attractive man on many levels.

His hypnotic steel blue gaze met her own. A shiver ran through her as she considered the position she was now in. Sensing his next move, she quickly wriggled again to release herself from the guards hold. It was no use. The security blanket concealing her identity was yanked from her head aggressively.

She observed a hint of a wicked grin begin to rise from the corners of his lips. He was quite obviously impressed with the vision before him.

"I will go notify the authorities, Mr. Gamble," one of the guards said in a manner that implied it was more of a question then a statement.

"NO!" She pleaded with tear glazed eyes.

Mr. Gamble's smile grew as he watched the helpless creature, confident in the knowledge that she was at his total mercy.

"Unbutton your blouse, thief, and then perhaps we will speak of compromise."

The two men snickered

Tears streamed down the bend of her crimson jaw line as she tried to reason with her adversary. "But in order for me to comply, your men will need to release my arms."

He gestured to the guards. She trembled while her fingertips pretended to locate the top button. Suddenly, in an abrupt movement, both arms sprang back and elbowed the men in the gut. She spat in Mr. Gamble's face spitefully. He caught her heel in mid flight with his hand just as she was attempting to kick him in the groin, causing his drink to plummet to the ground with a splatter.

Still maintaining the grip on her foot, he chuckled in amusement as he watched her fight to keep her balance. "Did I mention I studied martial arts for fifteen years, thief?" The two irate men once again took their places at each arm, this time holding her so tightly, they cut off her circulation. Mr. Gamble angrily wiped the spit from his brow onto the ski mask, and then threw it to the ground next to the spilled drink. In one quick, solid movement, he tore her shirt open.

"Now, was that so fucking hard?" He queried in a monotone voice, just inches from her face. "I tried to be nice. I tried to offer you a way out. I had one simple little request... one that was not asking a lot of someone who just tried to steal what I have worked so hard for all my life... and this is how you repay my kindness?" He kicked the ski mask to her feet. She shuddered, tears now flowing unmercifully from her eyes.

He motioned for the two men to leave the room. Their disappointment was apparent, but they obeyed without hesitation and shut the door behind them.

She could have easily made another escape attempt, but knew she would not get far. Her fate was now completely in the hands of this total stranger.

"Give me one more chance... I beg of you!"

"You give me one good reason, whore, why I should not call the police right now!"

"Please," she bartered, "I will do whatever you ask. Just please give me another chance."

"You had your chance, slut, and you blew it. Now it's going to be a lot tougher on you then it had to be." The scent of her arousal wafted up to his nostrils. "I want you take off what remains of your top, and remove your bra."

She unbuttoned the cuffs of her black silk blouse and allowed it to slide to the floor while Mr. Gamble poured himself another drink. Nervously, she worked the clasp of her bra, freeing her firm, ripe, luscious curves. They were even lovelier then he had imagined. He sipped at his bourbon watching the swollen pink rosebuds shrink down to into tiny brown pebbles. Perhaps it was the chill of the room, perhaps it was her anticipation of what was next to come. Either way, it was hard for him to maintain his cool demeanor in the presence of such immense beauty. He walked over to her and gently cupped them, lifting slightly then releasing to assess their firmness.

"You find this all to be very exciting, don't you slut?" He asked sternly while gazing deeply into her eyes.

"No," she responded quickly, "I'm just doing as I'm told."

"Lose the pants," he commanded.

"I-I can't. I have my period." Her eyes pooled with tears again.

Sensing her fabrication, Mr. Gamble casually walked over to the phone and picked it up.

"Wait," she pleaded, hurriedly undoing the zipper of her pants. He hung up the phone and walked back over to her, crossing his arms to his chest impatiently.

"The panties too," he demanded.

She hesitated for a moment, but then slowly removed the flimsy, lace bikini cut underwear. As she stepped out of them, she trembled so hard she almost lost her balance. Very obvious evidence of her arousal was highlighted against the blackness of the material. She was caught now in not only one, but two embarrassing lies.

Mr. Gamble fell silent, shaking his head disapprovingly while guzzling another large sip of bourbon.

His tone was commanding and impatient. "Get down on your hands and knees, whore."

She stood frozen in fear.

He placed the drink atop his desk and moved abruptly towards her. Curling a hand around her hair roughly, he jerked her head backwards to meet his insistent gaze.

"You are already in deep enough, woman, so now is not the time to be hesitating," he released his grip and she immediately complied.

"Forearm to elbow resting on the floor," he instructed. She was well exposed and shamed in this position. With one of his leather loafers, he slid both the underwear and the ski mask before her face. A strong hand forced her head down so that the tip of her nose was resting midway between the crotch of her undergarments, and the wet spot of the ski mask where he had wiped her spit.

"Stay," he ordered as if she was nothing more then a dog.

She couldn't see anything, but was certain she could hear him rustling around in one of the desk drawers. He came back to her, and crouched at her head. Positioning his hand within her line of vision, he presented three large metal marbles.

"These marbles," he proceeded to explain, "are your one chance of freedom. I am going to place all three inside of you. You have five minutes in which to prove to me you have enough self-control to hold them there. That shouldn't be a problem for one who is as unheated as you claim to be," he said with a chuckle, casting his glance to the stained underwear.

"If after the five minutes you have even one marble left, you will be released, and nothing will be said to anyone of your break in. If, in fact, you are able to complete this simple task, I will let you keep all possessions you managed to collect. If you fail, you will be used in any which way I deem appropriate to use such a selfish slut." With that he walked behind her. Resting his hand gently on her milky white ass cheek, he inserted the first marble.

As he placed the next inside her, she could feel the one before it being prodded deeper. Her sweet, juicy nectar warmed his flesh as he continued about his task. By the time he was down to the third metal ball, she felt his fingertips "accidentally" graze her tender, pink, ripe clitoris.

"Whoops," he said with a snicker, and then walked back up to her head and kneeled before her assessing. She heard the distinct beep of what sounded like a stopwatch. He soaked in her flawless facial features for a moment, then his gaze moved hungrily down to her full, creamy curves, which had now formed a bit of a blush. He reached over to one of the erect nipples, and let it roll against the palm of his hand. After running it back and forth a bit, he grabbed hold of the sensitive pebble and squeezed hard. She let out a loud gasp, and his face lit up as he heard the clatter of a marble fall to the floor.

He rose to his feet and ventured once again to the desk, extracting another item from his drawer. Pausing briefly on the journey back, he lightly kicked the marble up towards her head as if to taunt her. Suddenly, a new sensation awakened her. Mr. Gamble began to slowly trace her lower back and ass cheeks with a feather.

He let it tease her pussy lips for a moment as he pried her well-defined legs further apart with the toe of his leather shoe. She clenched with every muscle in her moist tunnel to not let go of the marble.

Just when she thought she had regained some sense of self-control, a loud "whack" stung the flesh of her firm, but delicate ass cheek. She felt the marble slide forward a bit more. It was now only being held weakly by the stickiness of her own juices. He traced the tip of the crop across her skin and they both heard the second marble roll across the floor. He kicked it up to her once head again, watching the slick trail of wetness follow behind.

The silence was deafening. She wondered what was going on... why had the room grown so quiet? She could feel his ever watchful presence still at the base of her, but he wasn't doing anything. His stare penetrated her exposed pussy. That was when the reality of the situation really struck her. This man held all the cards. She was nothing more then a naked, wet, shamed, selfish slut. All this time she had just been too proud to admit it to herself. The last marble fell to the floor. The timer of the stopwatch echoed throughout the room.