Lucy

My thanks to dannythebaltimoron for editing this piece and for his insightful words in helping the story come to life.

*

I stood at the window, my eyes taking in the spectacle that was the dancing fountains of the Bellagio. The colors and the spectacle should have buoyed my resolve. Instead I simply watched and did what I always did; I worried. I sighed as I let the curtain fall closed. I looked around the opulent room, my single suitcase sitting at the foot of the silk sheeted bed.

Murphy's law: If anything could go wrong it would. While anyone else would have considered an upgrade to a high roller suite because of a booking snafu to be a blessing, I of course saw it as a curse. I had only justified my feelings moments before; when the bellman had dropped off my meager baggage, and graced me with a look like I'd taken a dump in the middle of the living room floor. He'd looked at the $5 tip for a moment before issuing a rather smarmy, "Thanks, big spender."

Some saw the glass as half full, mine was always half empty. In addition the ice had melted and the remaining soda has fallen flat. Some people are optimists, others pessimists. I'm more of a doom and gloom kind of guy. Waiting for the other shoe to fall, trying to decide if it will be the heel or the sole which will squash me like a bug first. Little did I know just how right I would be.

The weekend in Las Vegas had been a spur of the moment kind of thing, thus my arrival at two in the morning. I had once heard a comedian say of Vegas, "Get yourself a hundred dollars worth of quarters and start to flush them down the toilet one by one. Eventually the toilet will back up and you'll feel like a winner." I would be remiss if I told you that was what I found every time I came here. Usually I would hold my own, winning a little or losing a little, in the end departing with just about the same amount I came there with. Even was just about as good as it got for me.

Taking one final look around, my eyes falling on the rather extensive mini bar, the $12 bottle of water on top of it, I shook my head from side to side, wondering when the world had gone crazy. Unfortunately I was unaware that crazy was about to take up residency, right alongside me.

I left the room and locked the door behind me; my eyes were looking straight down, as always. I found it easier not to make eye contact with people, thus avoiding the blank look on women's faces as they looked behind me to see who might be standing there. It's not that I'm ugly, I'm just...me. Average, plain, boring, you name it; I'm one of "those". I think I could commit murder in front of hundreds of people and not a single one of them could pick me out of a lineup. I'm that forgettable.

Since I didn't take the time to look up, I didn't see the figure who was standing at the end of the hall. Standing there silently, simply watching. I went in the other direction, towards the elevator as a pair of eyes followed my progress. I stepped into the glass elevator, my destination easily seen as it opened on the casino floor. I went forth, seconds later the same person following safely from a distance.

It's safe to say, I'm certainly no high roller, but I don't play the penny slots either. Blackjack was the single game I enjoyed, though I had a dealer tell me once they had never seen anyone look so blasé, even when they won. Highs and lows aren't exactly my forte; I keep an even keel. I always dress in plain black, staying in the shadows when best I could; simply existing. Existing to me meant not getting hurt. No, that's not right. It meant not giving yourself the opportunity to get hurt.

You grow weary over time, not being good enough, not being anything enough. Being painfully shy makes things difficult enough as it is, being tongue tied when it comes to the fairer sex makes it worse. Blushing a scarlet red in the presence of a woman usually leads to a rather quick, one sided conversation. Finally, you just decide to exist. Probably not the best of explanations but it's the only one I have.

The casino had its own beat, it danced to its own particular music. There was the out of town people. Their eyes wide open at the glitz and the glamour, not realizing it was more illusion than real. There were the regulars, the ones who would gamble on through the night, the clock now approaching three. I looked, seeing several tables with high stakes, the crowds around them the beautiful people. The men with women hanging on their arms, the women who played, dressed to the nines, as much to be seen there, more than anything.

I passed by, unnoticed as I saw a table near the end, $10 minimum, $500 maximum and I sat down, the dealer looking anything but interested. I pulled out $100, got my 10 chips and put a single one down, the game was on. I'd win one, the house would win one, the pattern as always staying fairly true to form. You would think I would grow weary of it but it seemed to be a constant. The pattern was something I could hold on to, like a comfortable shirt.

When things changed I really didn't know what to do. I had watched a guy play one time, seeing his system, starting off with a single chip and if he won, leaving both in. If he won again, getting four chips for his two he had bet, he would leave three and pull one out. The next time if he won, he would get six chips and pull two out. I guess I never really expected to ever get on a roll like that but damn, if suddenly I didn't.

I'd never had a hundred dollar bet out in front of me before but then again I'd never had a dealer look over and give the pit boss "that look". He sauntered over, a bit of a fake smile on his face as he looked at the rather large stack of chips before me. I wanted to say something to the effect of, "Hey, I'm not smart enough to count cards or anything. This kind of thing just doesn't happen to me, okay?" Instead all I could do was just sit there, like an idiot feeling bad because I was winning.

The dealer laid down a hand, he with a seven showing, me with two face cards and I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I wanted to prove to them that I wasn't cheating or that I was a complete imbecile. I split the two face cards. The look I got from both of them confirmed that they knew I wasn't cheating; they knew now I was retarded. The only problem is the dealer dealt the next two cards to me and both of them were aces.

This time when the pit boss moved over, picking up a phone and speaking in a low tone I got ready to speak. To say something, anything but it wasn't meant to be. I saw the look on the dealer's face, his eyes opening a bit wide as I felt someone standing behind me. A voice softly saying, "Are you always at lucky at everything like you are at cards?"

I could smell the scent, the perfume which wafted over my shoulder but I knew it couldn't be lady luck. I quickly reached out, pulling the chips from the table where he had stacked my two winning hands and only left a single chip in place for my next bet. The pit boss turned, seeing it, but he didn't really seem interested. Like the dealer, he only had eyes for the woman whose voice I had heard and even now seemed to be standing far too close for my comfort.

Sure enough, a hand was dealt, the dealer turning over his king and ace. The next hand, I busted and finally the third, another blackjack and I stood up. Her perfume almost making me feel drunk, the scent so intoxicating as I began to pick up the chips, the rather massive stack before me. "Would you like for me to cash those in for you sir?" I must have looked like a deranged lunatic. I kept grabbing at them, stuffing them in my pockets, holding them to my chest. Several fell on the floor as I scrambled for them, only to finally stand, almost running from the scene of the crime.

I caught a glimpse of her, just a fleeting snapshot which stayed in my mind. She was curvaceous and had short brown hair with gold highlights; but it was the sight of a woman in the stifling heat of Las Vegas, wearing a full length mink coat which captured my eye. Other than that, all I saw was my feet moving quickly, my stride widening as I went across the carpeting, as I made a bee line for the elevator. My heart was racing as if it were ready to burst from my chest.

I opened the door to my room, almost stumbling across the threshold, chips flying from my hands as they spilled onto the carpet. I sighed as I got down on my hands and knees. I started picking them up and tossing them onto the table. I wasn't even thinking I had not shut the door; it still slightly ajar. It was only when I had picked up the last $10 piece that I heard a familiar voice say, "You never did answer my question, are you?"

I forced myself to turn, the woman standing in the doorway which showed her in backlight, her hand stretching up, the pose almost...staged. All I could do was just stand there, as incapable of speech as if I had simply forgotten the entire alphabet. She strode confidently into the room. Her voice soft, almost hypnotic like saying, "Well Mr. Samuels, are you?"

For lack of a better word, she simply shimmered as she glided across my room, the full length garment she wore just touching the floor. If this would have been a cartoon you would have seen my eyes bug out and steam come out of my ears. She reminded me of the pin up girls of old; the ones you would see in black lace, standing in the shadows. She kept walking towards me, like a lioness stalking her helpless prey. I certainly couldn't have moved from the spot. I felt as though my shoes had been nailed to the floor.

She wore a black lace bra, displaying her rather impressive assets. Black lace panties with a matching garter belt. Black lace stockings leading down to a rather decadent looking pair of heels, which explained how she seemed to be so tall; taller than even I. Where seconds before she had shimmered, now she sauntered, walking up to me with a smile playing across her lips. Her hands went around my neck as she leaned in, whispering in my ear, "You are Jonathan Samuels, aren't you?"

Her breath was warm against my flesh, her lips almost directly against it. Somehow I managed to stammer forth yes, nodding my head like some kind of bobble head dog in the back of a car. She said simply, "Good." I felt a sting, a sharp pain on the back of my neck. I jerked, my head snapping back as I found myself looking into her green eyes. This time I didn't see the come hither look I could have sworn she had used when she made her entrance. The look now was cold, distant and then...it wasn't at all.

I'm not sure how long I was unconscious, though it must have been for quite sometime. I opened my eyes to the sight of what looked like a bad film set. There was a camera set up in a corner on a tripod, a couple of hand held cameras on the table beside it. I tried to raise up to see better. That wasn't going to be possible.

There was a mirror almost directly across from the bed on which I found myself laying. The reflection which came back to me caused me to blink, several times. I was sure that somehow I had fallen into a dream that I just couldn't seem to wake up from. My body was bound, chained by shackles with my hands behind my back. My ankles, too, in restraints. My face had a leather like garment over it. A red rubber ball filled my mouth, the gag cinched behind my face. The feeling of being bound, helpless was terrifying though there were other emotions else as well. I wasn't quite sure of what those were at that very moment.

I tried to call out but the sound was like a muffled groan, though it was loud enough to alert the woman in the other room that I had awakened. This time when she walked into the room I saw a different side to her. One that was as alluring as the first, though to be honest, I didn't think I was in any shape to be allured...to anything, or anyone at that moment.

She favored me with a smile, this beautiful creature who now was adorned all in leather from head to toe. Her eyes still were dark, almost jade in color I saw as she laughed saying, "Well well Mr. Samuels, I'm sure this is quite different from the last time you were here, don't you say?" I wouldn't say because I couldn't say, but if I could have said I would have said, "What?" The look on my face must have confirmed that thought because she said, "Very well, let me refresh your memory."

"The last time you were here you called an escort service, 'Heavenly Angels'. You placed your order, looking for a submissive female, looking for a little action, remember?" No, to be honest I didn't but that didn't really seem to matter to the woman sitting there as she simply went on. "Of course, that kind of thing cost a little bit more but hey, you're a high roller. You stay in the best of places. You gamble big, so you play big, right?"

No! Wrong! I'm sure at sometime and place this would have made for a wonderful Twilight Zone episode but I certainly wasn't supposed to be the star of it. I began to thrash on the bed, almost bouncing off of it onto the floor. She calmly walked over, picked up an item and with a single strike, I stopped, quickly. To be honest, it hurt but in reality it surprised me more than anything.

"Get used to it Mr. Samuels, I didn't really let go...that time." She sat back down again, my eyes now open wide as I couldn't take them off the crop she held lightly in her one hand. "Now, where was I? Oh yes, you called for an escort, an escort who found herself eventually bound and gagged. Just like you are right now. That's how the maid found her. She had been whipped, her body bruised, with welts all over. You were kind enough to leave her payment beside her, ensuring that no charges could be filed. You however, were a lousy tipper."

She got up from the bed, walking over to the camera, focusing it on my bound body as she went on. "So tonight, tonight we're going to make a movie. Take a few pictures. Put you in the position you put my friend, Rita. Now, the money you won tonight will be just the right amount that you should have tipped her for the service she provided you with so I'm willing to forget that. However, you took advantage of her. Used her like a common whore and that, I will not stand for."

Her eyes now were once again as dark, as dangerous as I had seen them before the lights had gone out. She picked up a mask, donning it, one that would cover her features. "I have friends here. They were kind enough to let me know that Jonathan Samuels had checked in, a suite, only the best for him. Tonight, I'm going to show him what it's like to be used, just as he used her. Tomorrow the maid will find him, all tied up in a pretty bow. Meanwhile I'm sure Mrs. Samuels will enjoy the movie and pictures, don't you think...you bastard I'm going to hurt you and then I'm going to ruin you little man, what do you say to that?"

If I could have spoken, I could have told her there was no Mrs. Samuels. I also could have told her that I had never met her friend, nor had I done the things she spoke of. I certainly would have asked her to call downstairs, to ask the front desk as to why I was here, the room snafu, remember? Finally, if I could have spoke, I would have screamed bloody murder but then again, if pigs had wings, well, you know the rest.

She walked over, the picture of a dominatrix, one who seemed to greatly enjoy her work. She laid out several items each of them bringing to my shame a bit of a whimper forth from my lips. I don't know why but I had a feeling my pleasure wasn't really going to be high on the list of her regards. My pain, that I had a feeling she was going to take great pride in providing. Thus, I did the only thing I could, I tried to beg.

What came out was more of a mumbled, incoherent mess but it was heartfelt, this I know. Unfortunately it seemed to fall on deaf ears as she pressed record on the camera, the sound of the motor beginning, the tape rolling. She began to play her part as if she were on stage and the entire world was watching. She walked over, into frame, her hand reaching down to grab my hair, pulling my head up harshly. Her voice quite different from the one I had first been introduced to in the casino.

"Jonathan my pet, you've been a bad, bad boy. I'm going to have to punish you for what you've done. Just remember, this hurts me more than it does you." With that, she flipped me over onto my stomach, the lash beginning to fall and I must admit, the lady didn't lie. She had been holding back, but she wasn't now.

The blows rained down, one after another and she proved herself to be an equal opportunity sadist. There wasn't a single inch of skin, from my feet all the way up to my shoulders that she didn't connect with. If there had not been a gag in place, I'm sure my screams would have brought the police, perhaps the National Guard. Or possibly even a dog or two, as high pitched as it would have been. Instead all that came forth was muffled sounds, screams which seemed to excite her, providing her with the impetus to continue. She finally she stopped, dropping the crop where it lay right beside me.

I lay there, my body quivering, fighting back the tears which threatened. I heard the shutter opening and closing as she took pictures of what I was sure was the blood draining from my body. The lashes obviously having opened up my skin though in reality it was simply a bright, scarlet red. It was the normal color I would have blushed but someone, in the position I was in, blushing just didn't seem the appropriate thing to do.

Finally she grabbed me by the hair again, flipping me back over and now, now it was time to blush. She looked down, a grin coming over her face as she said, "You like it, don't you Jonathan, you like being my little bitch?" Well, I had never been accused of being an alpha male, this I know but I certainly wasn't aware that I would be...well, that is, I...sigh...never mind.

It was then I saw the new toys she carried over to the bed, my body still shaking as she looked up, insuring she was in frame. She let the piece of ice she held trail over my chest, sliding over my nipples. Flash freezing them before showing me what she had planned for me next. I had never seen nipple clamps but I quickly realized their function, especially as the flesh went from cold to hot. I thrashed, my head shaking back and forth as my masked tormentor leaned close saying, "Embrace the pain my pet. Let it become as one with you."

It felt as if I was being burned, the pain so severe though I think it was more in my mind than physically. Things were happening, my body was reacting and I felt my mind slipping away. My physical presence taking control over the mental aspect, something I had never explored nor ever dared dream possible. Thus I was unprepared when her hand reached down between my legs, gripping me and squeezing, tightly.

I wasn't aware at the time it was an old trick, one utilized to stop an erection. All I knew was I went from one to another and she smiled yet again, picking up a series of rings which she quickly placed over my flaccid organ. "These are known as the gates of hell Jonathan, you'll see why...shortly." I lay there, my forehead with beads of sweat popping out as she calmly stroked me. I once again grew hard, this time a moan escaping my lips as the rings pressed into the flesh, gripping it tightly.

My eyes grew wild, my body now fully aroused, the combination of everything that was taking place having taken me where I had never been before. I watched as she tossed aside pieces of her outfit, now moving to straddle me on the bed. Her eyes now nearly as wild as mine, a bit lost in the moment as she pulled the ball from my mouth. Before I could utter a word, she forced her sex upon it. I did the only thing I could do, I had to breathe so I gave her what she wanted.