A Gambler's Debt Paid

As she waited in the car, she bit her lip nervously and twirled a strand of dark blonde hair around her finger. The front seat of her boyfriend's old Toyota had never seemed more claustrophobic, but she was too scared to get out of the car and wait outside. The neighborhood was clearly run-down, with graffiti on most buildings and litter scattered in the gutters.

How did I get into this mess, she wondered miserably. Of course, to be more accurate, she hadn't gotten into this mess. Steve had gotten into this mess. Good ole' Steve, she thought bitterly. Her less-than-intelligent boyfriend who had somehow become her whole life these past few months, despite being one of the laziest and most dishonest guys she'd ever met. She'd dropped out of college when he convinced her that his gambling habit was going to win them big -- not one of her finer moments, but she'd always been a sucker for the 'bad boy' image. And for awhile, he'd been right. He did have an uncanny ability to guess the horses.

Unfortunately, he blew through most of the money as soon as he got it. His gambling got more reckless as he got more and more addicted. And now...

Bang! She jumped and looked around, panicked, but it was just the screen door slamming on the house Steve had gone into to pay his now-substantial debt. He was coming back out with another guy. An extremely hot other guy, she couldn't help but notice -- tall, dark, and handsome. They walked out to the car and Steve rapped his knuckles on the window loudly, causing her to wince.

"Get out, Christine," he barked. She undid her seatbelt with shaking hands, unlocked her car door, and got out of the car.

"Christine, Mike...Mike, Christine," Steve muttered by way of introduction. Christine's heart began to pound as she watched Steve. He was fidgeting restlessly and couldn't meet her gaze. This is not good, she thought with dread.

"It's Michael, actually," the man said coolly, reaching out to take Christine's hand. She stared at him with wide eyes as he raised her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles. She shot Steve a look, but he was staring very hard at the curb. Ordinarily, he would go nuts over some guy touching her, but he let this Michael guy they had just met kiss her hand? This was crazy.

"Christine, you'll be happy to know that Steve and I have come to an agreement to settle his debt," Michael said with a cocky smile. She stared at him suspiciously, heart still pounding with trepidation.

He chuckled. "Look at that, Steve, she doesn't trust me. Now what have you done to this pretty young thing to make her distrust men so?" Steve mumbled a curse word and lit up a cigarette.

His hand still holding hers, Michael began to walk away from the car, leading her toward the house. "Steve...?" she whimpered, her fear beginning to overcome her. Steve ignored her, still staring at the curb and smoking, and she felt Michael squeeze her hand gently.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I just want to show you how he's going to repay his debt," Michael said reassuringly.

"Steve!" she cried, staring behind her as Michael pulled her onto his porch and through the front door.

"Just go, Christine!" Steve snapped angrily.

She was led into the living room of the house, where Michael gestured to the couch and she noticed a drink was waiting for her. Oh, this is not good, she thought miserably.

Sitting down next to her, Michael nodded at the glass. "Vanilla Stoli and ginger ale, just the way you like," he explained. She took a small sip, and then picked at the hem of her white skirt nervously, unable to meet Michael's intense gaze. She could nearly feel his dark chocolate eyes burning into hers.

"As you know, Steve owes me quite a bit of money," Michael began.

"I know. Two hundred thousand," she whispered.

"Now, the money isn't so important to me. Despite the appearance of my 'workplace,' I'm actually a very wealthy man, Christine. I just use this place to...conduct business...so that I don't arouse as much attention from the police, given the shady characters I often have to deal with."

She glanced around. The interior of the run-down house was actually furnished nicely, albeit simply. "So...you don't need the money?" she asked hopefully.

He chuckled gently. "Oh, honey... I wouldn't say that. A debt is still a debt, after all. And it seems that your Steve won't learn his lesson unless he pays his debts, am I right?"

She nodded slowly, the sinking feeling returning to her stomach. Handing her the drink and watching her take a long swallow, Michael continued.

"So I asked myself, what would really teach Steve his lesson? I mean, there's no way in hell he can repay this debt with money -- he's already in the hole with some other bookies as well. Word gets around, Christine."

Other debts? she thought, amazed. What else has Steve been keeping from me?

"And then it hits me. Steve is a...shall we say... a bit possessive of you, sweetheart. I mean, come on -- the guy erupts when a man so much as looks at you."

Along with her pounding heart, Christine noticed that the room was spinning slowly.

"And nothing drives a possessive guy more crazy than some other guy...some better-looking guy... touching his woman."

Yes, the spinning was definitely increasing. It's like a fucking carousel, Christine thought stupidly, finding it very difficult to concentrate. Why hasn't he noticed?

"So you'll be happy to know that, within a few hours, Steve's debt will be paid in full. Now don't get me wrong, sweetheart, I don't want you to feel like a whore. Let's just say that Steve is doing me a favor, in the hopes that it will put me in a better mood - a mood so good that I'll forget about his debt."

Christine tried to meet his eyes, but her head suddenly felt very heavy. Did he just call me a whore? she wondered, just before she passed out into Michael's waiting arms.

* * *

She felt a straw pushing at her lips, and she sucked reflexively. Sweet, delicious water flowed down her throat, and she eagerly swallowed. My God, I'm thirsty as hell, she thought. The room was dark -- pitch black, in fact. No, wait... the room isn't dark. I've been blindfolded, she realized.

Panicking, she moved to rip the blindfold off, but her arms wouldn't budge. Trying to kick, she realized her arms and legs were tied to a bed. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand clapped over her lips. She felt someone lean over her and heard him whisper, "Now be a good girl and promise not to scream, or I'll break out the gag. And trust me, the gag can make things...less pleasurable."

She hesitated, breathing hard through her nose, considering her options. Tied up, blindfolded, and gagged? It seemed safer not to scream. Michael slowly removed his hand, and when she remained silent, he murmured, "Good girl."

Christine tried to remember what Michael had been saying before she had been drugged. Something about Steve being possessive...and repaying the debt with...me?

She felt Michael move onto the bed, kneeling between her legs, and her heart pounded painfully with terror.

"Don't worry," he whispered, lowering his head to brush his lips over her cheeks. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not even going to have sex with you. I promise."

"Then what do you want?" she whispered breathlessly.

"I just want..." his lips brushed over her earlobe, "to make you..." his tongue flicked against her neck, "cum." He sucked leisurely on the hollow of her neck.

She gasped softly, his lips working slow magic on her skin. You can't be enjoying this, her mind cried, but she could feel a burn begin between her legs.

His caressing fingers began at her jaw, traced down her neck and along the side of her breast, and rubbed her stomach, slipping beneath her blue tanktop.

"Please don't," she whispered, squirming beneath him in a futile attempt to get away. "Shhhh," he said hoarsely, leaving a trail of kisses down the center of her chest and pausing within her cleavage. She felt him move lower to take the hem of her blouse in his teeth and pull it up above her breasts.

"Stop," she whimpered in a small voice, pulling at her arm restraints. His soft lips moved across her stomach, his tongue occasionally flicking against her smooth skin. The fire between her legs was spreading throughout her body, and she strongly regretted not wearing a bra today.

One hand moved up to caress her cheek, tracing her lips, while the other stroked the side of her breasts. His lips travelled all over her chest, touching every inch but skillfully avoiding her nipples. She began to suspect that Steve had spilled some secrets about her preferences, because Michael seemed to know that she loved being teased and went crazy for nipple play.

His lips finally hesitated, and she could feel his hot breath on her hardening nipple. "Do you want me to lick it, sugar?"

"Nooo..." she groaned, writhing beneath him.

Michael chuckled. "Now, now... haven't you learned that honest communication is the key to good sex?" His kisses resumed all over her breasts, now sucking gently on her skin and tracing his tongue over her, still avoiding her nipples. She endured several more minutes of torture. His tongue was like liquid fire. She was gasping for breath, and doing everything she could to prevent moans of pleasure. Again, he hesitated above her hardened nipple, his breath teasing her. "Do you want me to lick it?" he asked again.

She shook her head hard, but a desperate whimper escaped from her lips. Her face flushed with embarrassment and humiliation, but she couldn't deny that she needed more. "Please," she whispered.

This seemed to suffice, and he flicked her nipple with his tongue, then locked his lips around it and sucked hard, fluttering his tongue over the tip. The blindfold seemed to enhance her sexual response. Pleasure swept over her, and she arched her back, crying out and pulling against her restraints. When his hand moved to her other nipple and began rolling and pinching it between his fingers, she bucked against him and squealed as an earth-shattering orgasm rolled through her body.

Before she could catch her breath, she felt him reach over her to get something, and then piercing pleasure/pain coursed through her as she felt cold metal bite hard onto her nipples. She shrieked, and he clamped his hand over her mouth again as she jerked away from him, yanking at her restraints desperately. The pain didn't ease up, but her body eventually stilled as she forced herself to get used to it, breathing hard through her nose. It felt as if he was biting hard on her nipples, but it was constant, a shooting pain that was just hovering on the edge of intolerable.

"Nipple clamps," he murmured, by way of explanation. "I figured someone as sensitive as you would enjoy them. Don't worry, once I distract you with other things, it won't be so painful." She couldn't deny that although the pain was immense, the accompanying pleasure was exquisite.

Michael removed his hand from her mouth, and pulled her skirt up to her waist, literally ripping her panties off without warning. She gasped, and tried desperately to close her legs, another futile attempt to avoid the inevitable. She heard him take a long sniff, and was mortified when she realized he was sniffing her wet panties.

"You really are enjoying this, aren't you, sugar?" he asked, his voice rough with lust. Humiliation washed over her in waves. "That's alright, you don't have to admit it," he chuckled. "The evidence is right here. And here," he added, tracing a finger over her wet pussy lips. She flinched. His fingers began to trace over her thighs and pelvis, rubbing her hip bone, stroking the outside of her pussy but not parting her lips. The desperate aching between her legs was making her dizzy, and her body felt scorching hot. Her hips began to rise, unconsciously, to meet his touch, and the room was filled with the sound of her tortured gasps.

Finally, his finger leisurely parted her lips at the bottom of her pussy. He took his time as he moved it up to her clit. He flicked it, and she gasped, wriggling beneath him. She felt him put pressure on her clit, rubbing his finger in slow circles, gradually quickening until she was bucking her hips against him. Nearly delirious with pleasure, she felt herself going right up to the edge, and moved harder against him, trying to bring herself to the peak so she could crash over it.

Just as she felt she was almost there, he took his hand away. "No!" she cried out, and then blushed with embarrassment. She heard his soft chuckle.

"Patience, little girl," he murmured with a satisfied tone in his voice. She felt him reach over her again to get something, and she held her breath with a mixture of anticipation and fear. Suddenly, she heard a low buzzing sound. Oh no, she thought with dread.

When the tip of the vibrator parted her pussy lips, she cried out with pleasure. He touched her so gently, just barely letting the vibration caress her skin, and the sweet torture was delicious. The tiny vibrations seemed to spread through her body, bringing her attention back to her painfully clamped nipples. With aching slowness, he traced the vibrator up and down her lips, grazing her clit for just a second before moving down again. Her hips rose to meet its touch, straining for a firmer assault of her pussy. For several minutes, he teased her, lightly stroking her with the vibrator until she finally moaned, "Please, Michael, please..." He chuckled again.

He removed the vibrator, and the vibrating sound got louder as he turned up the speed. She began to pant with anticipation as he lowered the vibrator to her pussy. He propped it up on the bed so that it rested between her lips. She felt him get off the bed, and heard him whisper, "Be right back, sugar."

"What?" she cried hysterically. The strong vibrations were settled next to her clit, but they weren't strong enough to allow her to cum. She shifted her hips, trying desperately to move the vibrator to a better position, thinking if she could just hit the right spot, then it would be enough to send her over the edge. She humped against the vibrator, feeling nearly insane with lust and desire. It wasn't enough, and she dangled on the precipice for minute after minute, sweating and whimpering.

Finally, Christine heard footsteps returning. Do I hear two pairs of footsteps? she thought, confused. But she was so delirious with need that she didn't even care. Someone climbed back between her legs, and she hoped it was Michael. She was rewarded with his voice: "Do you want me to fuck you with that vibrator, sweetheart?"

"Yes!" she screamed, frantically writhing beneath him.

"Do you want me to shove that vibrator into you and make you cum over and over again, little one?" he continued.

"Yes, yes, please!" she shrieked.

"Tell me how much, baby," he commanded.

She was so hysterical, she was nearly sobbing. "So much! Please, I need you so much to make me cum! Oh God, please let me cum! Fuck me with that thing so hard!"

Satisfied, he picked up the vibrator and, without warning, shoved it hard into her pussy. She squealed as she came almost instantly, her hips bucking against him desperately, her limbs jerking against the restraints. He stroked the fake cock in and out of her, hard and fast, and she hadn't recovered from the first orgasm before another was rolling over her. Her desperate moans and whimpers filled the room, and she was only vaguely aware of the second pair of footsteps leaving the room and then the house. She realized that it must have been Steve, but in the throes of her endless passion, she found she didn't care at all.

When she felt Michael's lips and tongue upon her clit as he continued his assault on her pussy with the vibrator, she felt that she might die of pleasure. Literally seeing stars behind her tightly closed eyelids, she came again and again, until she could hardly breathe and her voice was hoarse from screaming.

Finally, she had to beg him to stop. "Please, Michael, oh my god, I can't take anymore!" she gasped. He gradually slowed his pace down until he was leisurely moving the vibrator in and out of her, taking his sweet time and letting her feel it fill her pussy inch by inch, and then retract. He turned the vibration off, and continued to lazily fuck her with the vibrator, sending reverberations of pleasure coursing through her body. Her breathing eventually steadied, and she suddenly noticed the pressure and pain of the nipple clamps again as her hips rose and fell to his steady pace. With one last flick of his tongue against her clit, he elicited another gasp from her just before he pulled the vibrator out and tossed it aside.

Finally opening her eyes beneath the blindfold, her breathing deep and satisfied, she felt Michael untie her ankles and wrists. He lay down on the bed next to her and slipped off her blindfold. She blinked against the light, and then rolled onto her side and met his probing gaze.

He stroked her arm gently. "I told you I wouldn't have sex with you." She laughed uncertainly, and couldn't help but glance down between his legs at the reference to his cock.

"Don't worry, I took care of myself when I left you alone with the vibrator," he said, his voice soft.

She looked at his face, his deep chocolate eyes, his full lips that had brought her to ecstasy again and again.

"Steve...?" she asked.

"He left," he answered. "And I know it's none of my business, but you don't deserve to be with a guy who would use you as payment."

She bit her lip. "Are you any better for having taken advantage of it?"

He winced, but shook his head. "No, sugar, I'm not, I guess. I suppose I saw a beautiful woman who deserves better than she's got...and I wanted to show you what you could have. But I know that's no excuse for taking advantage of you. I just...I knew you would enjoy it."

Her heart now started to pound for an entirely different reason. Could he possibly be interested in me? she wondered. I mean, as more than a sex toy?

"What are you saying?" she asked breathlessly.

"I'm saying..." he hesitated. "I'm saying, would you like to have dinner tonight?"

A broad smile spread across her face.