Chapter Seven
The next morning I was unclipped from the bed and hustled into the shower where I was forced to squat ignominiously and expel the rubber dog toy from my sore and abraded anal tube. It was utterly demeaning to feel her eyes upon me as I strained to push it out though afterwards I was grateful as the hot shower soothed my weary body. At breakfast time I was allowed to eat properly instead of being made to eat out of a bowl like a dog and so, apart from feeling incredibly weary after a fairly sleepless night, I was actually feeling quite upbeat. Things were looking up as I seemed to have escaped from being treated as her pet dog and then, when she mentioned educating me in how to play cards properly, I smirked as I considered her victory over me previously to have been just a moment of luck.
"You may write down six things that you would like if you win although I will look at them and vet them before we begin. Think sensible thoughts or I will be displeased to say the least! I am going to do the same and then at the end a roll of the die will decide which number gets picked!"
She handed me a piece of paper and a pen and then sat opposite me at the kitchen table, sliding her pencil in and out of her lips alluringly and distractingly. I could only imagine my cock slipping in and out and I instantly hardened as I thought of the warmth of her mouth encompassing my knob. I wrote it down as a suggestion followed by others on a similar theme, pulse quickening as I wondered if I would be allowed to carry out any of them if I won. Meanwhile she scribbled down her own thoughts and ideas and my nerves jangled as I feared the power of her fertile imagination.
"Pass your paper here, slave!" she snapped, laying down her pencil abruptly and I complied instantly, praying that she would not take offence at my ideas.
"No!" she remarked firmly as she read the first one. "This mistress does not take a worthless slave's cock in her mouth because he wishes it. I will alter that accordingly to you serving my breasts with your tongue and lips instead. Your other suggestions are broadly acceptable although I may change one or two little things...not that you will win!"
Her confident tone set my teeth on edge and I was determined to prove her wrong as we walked through into her study where a little green baize card table was set up ready for us to commence.
"Vingt-et-un or pontoon as you might know it, slave," she murmured as she cut the cards then riffled them skilfully between her fingers to shuffle them.
"I thought we would be playing poker, mistress," I replied a little disappointed as I considered pontoon beneath my skills.
"When I think you are ready, slave. First you need to prove yourself at this. Only when you have beaten me will I know you are good enough to move on to poker or baccarat or bezique perhaps."
Poker was good enough for me. I had vaguely heard of the other two but had never played them. Doling out some chips from a stack on the table, Miss Thorne explained that the banker would swap every ten hands and that the game would finish when one person ran out of chips.
"So don't be profligate!" she advised me with a glint in her grey eyes and I wondered nervously just what she had in mind for me if I lost.
Miss Thorne dealt first and the first few hands were very nip and tuck with a few chips sliding my way as I enjoyed the luxury of a five card trick. Relaxing a little, I began to enjoy myself and a flow of good hands had me well in the lead after about half an hour with my mistress down to her last dozen chips. A pair of aces on her deal tempted me and I split them then loaded each with five chips as I attempted to bankrupt her. She flipped over the first card and I groaned under my breath at the six that was revealed before I tapped on the next ace and waited, heart pounding faster as I prayed for a court card. An eight appeared and I sat back in disappointment then thought about what to do next. Should I play safe and settle for the relatively low scores or go all out? Sweat broke out on my forehead as she stared across at me coolly, looking impossibly relaxed and confident, irritatingly so and I decided that I would try and force the issue.
"Twist again!" I snapped out and she raised one elegant arched eyebrow before leaning across and whipping her hand across my cheek.
"'Twist again please, mistress' is what I think you meant to say!" she commented as I recoiled.
"Sorry, mistress. Twist again please," I stammered out and waited nervously to see what would appear as her long, thin fingers manipulated the deck of cards.
It was a five, giving me either twenty-two or just twelve. Possibly the worst result that I could have got and I cursed my luck while she continued to gaze at me sardonically, waiting for me to make my next choice.
"Twist please, mistress," I stated, trying to remain calm.