Casino
Part 3

By Thndrshark






Warning: This story contains concepts and descriptions of an adult nature. It
is illegal for persons under the age of 18 (and in some states, 21) to view
this material. If you are underage for your area, do not continue.



Story (c) 1999 Gwendoline Photography/Thndrshark




Gina had tried most of the tables and found little challenge. She had never
told her friends that her father was a dealer for years at a casino, and had
taught her most of his tricks. She was sure she had at least $20,000 now but
was enjoying herself. She began scanning the more interesting games.


The whipping booth seemed to be the only solution for Monica. She now owed
at least $10,000 to the man who stood next to her. He gripped her upper arm
tightly, as if he was afraid she might run away. It seemed like a good idea to
take the loan from the handsome man who sat next to her. But as she lost and
lost again, she knew he would want to find a way to win his money back. She
looked around her for a moment, trying to see her friends, but they had been
gone for hours. She read the sign at the entrance. It stated $10 a stroke for a
light whip, $100 for a cat-o-nine tails and $500 for the bullwhip. They
shuffled over to the observation room glancing out to the floor of the whipping
stand. A well-endowed young lady was stretched wide by chains. Her body,
covered with sweat, was tense as she waited for the first blow. She had chosen
the bullwhip, Monica could see, as the whip master swung it through the air to
warm up. Without much warning, the lash landed hard on the girl's back. Her
body bucked but she held back her scream. Monica knew that the game was played
based on a number of lashes. If you chose ten lashes, you must endure the
entire ten without making a sound to win the cash. If not, you would owe the
cash and still receive the entire ten. It was a gamble she was willing to take.

The girl was strong. Bright red welts had risen from her back from the six
lashes that had fallen but she had yet to release a sound. Monica knew she
would have to endure a lot of lashes to pay back her debt.
"You can see what you're in for, Monica," the man said, smiling. "But you
like to gamble so I'll make you a different deal. If you can take ten lashes
from the bullwhip without making a sound, I will release you from your debt."
Monica was excited by this prospect. She looked out at the woman still
receiving her strokes in silence, knowing she could do it too.
"And if I make a sound?"
"Then you have to be my slave for two months, to do with as I wish." He
smiled at her. Monica wasn't at all turned off by this man. He was young, and
quite handsome, but she had no concept of what he meant by slave. In her
fantasies, she had been captured by a handsome prince and kept as a sex toy,
but those always ended and she awoke. She couldn't believe he would honestly
keep her against her will, but a twinkle in his eye caused her to worry. She
had seen some of the other girls around here, bound in impossible positions.
She knew what was behind his good looks and bright smile. But she was sure she
could hold out and win. As sure, a little voice told her, as she was about all
those bets she had lost. But she shrugged it off.
The man whispered to the attendant, who slipped away, quickly returned
with a form for Monica's signature.
"Oh, and one other thing." He smiled. "You have to take the lashes on your
front." Monica was shocked. She wasn't sure she could take it on her breasts,
but she knew it couldn't be much worse, and she had no choice. She knew if she
didn't satisfy the debt to this man, she would be forced to make repairs in
other ways, some of them not too pleasant. She quickly signed the form, as did
her debtor, and she was led onto the stage.
She watched as the other woman was released. Her back was a crisscross of
heavy welts from the hard bullwhip. She seemed exhausted. Monica quickly took
her place, facing the crowd as her armbinder was removed and replaced by wide
leather cuffs. Her hair was quickly laced into a ponytail with an added leather
strap weaved in. As the chains pulled her taught, she could feel the strap
attached to a ring on the floor and her head was yanked back. This, she
assumed, would keep her face away from the bullwhip, though the position also
pushed her body out toward the whip master. She could feel a headset being
placed on her head, the microphone inches from her mouth. This, she knew, would
broadcast any cry she might make, making it obvious to the crowd if she broke.
"Ten lashes with the bullwhip," the announcer said, "in exchange for a
release from debt. If she cries out, she will be sold into slavery for two
months." The crowd cheered as the man with the bullwhip took his position.
Monica closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steel her will as the chains
that held her pulled her body taught. Without warning, the first lash fell,
striping her body from her right breast down to her stomach. It was all Monica
could do to clamp her mouth shut. Her body felt like it was on fire, tears
springing from her eyes. She tried to struggle to get away, but the chains held
her tight. The second lash fell hard across her left breast and, as she
struggled not to scream, she knew her ample breasts would take the brunt of the
whip. But the next stroke was across her stomach and left thigh. Monica grunted
from the weight of the whip hitting her stomach and she feared she would lose
for this. But apparently she was allowed this sound as the announcer simply
continued to count. The fourth lash struck her side and the side of her
breasts, lacing pain up her body. She was sweating profusely now, her body
reacting from the brutal punishment. The crowd, seemingly afraid Monica would
not break, began cheering the whip master on. The fifth lash left a welt across
her stomach and Monica felt dizzy from the pain. She had lost count and was
beginning to lose control. Another lash struck her breasts and another quickly
followed it. She was sure they had passed ten and had chosen to torture her,
the crowd laughing at her pain. As the seventh stroke struck her, glancing
across her shaved pussy as it laid a diagonal stripe over her stomach, Monica's
scream burst from her lungs. Her clit seemed to be bathed in fire from the tip
of the bullwhip. The pain washed over her and she fainted in her bonds.

Monica awoke in a different position. As her eyes fluttered open, she
thought she was in a dim room. She quickly realized she was looking through
some type of dark glass. She struggled to get up and found that her arms where
harshly bound behind her back. She could feel her shoulders aching from the way
her elbows had been forced to meet behind her. A face leaned close. It was her
debtor.
"I see you are awake." He spoke loudly to be heard through her blocked
ears. "Well, you lost. You are mine now. In case you are wondering, you are
bound for me so you can follow me around for the rest of the evening. I
certainly don't want to leave the fun, now do I?" He laughed. "Just in case you
are wondering, I've dressed you in a typical slave attire for my girls. That
constricting feeling around your face and head is a rubber hood covered by a
tight leather hood. I took particular pains to plug your ears and provide you
breathing tubes, which I'm sure you can feel in your nose. Your mouth hurts due
to the blowup gag I've put in it. I wanted to pump it up even larger, but I was
afraid it would break. Rather than keeping you completely blind, I put dark
lenses in the hood, much like welding glass. You will be able to see a few feet
in front of you, but that's all. That wide collar around your neck is padlocked
on so don't think any of your friends can get to the laces easily. Otherwise
you are completely naked, though I did take a moment to have your pussy shaved.
Oh, and your feet are strapped into ballet shoes. I hope you learn to enjoy
walking on your toes, because, for the next two months, you will be wearing
them!" He chuckled as her muffled voice tried to complain. "By the way, I lied.
I'm not a gentle master!" He helped her up on her toes and tugged the leash
attached to her collar, leading her out into the main room.

Gina was shocked at the sight of the young slave that had evidently lost a
big bet. As the handsome man led her out of the back room, she couldn't help
but to admire the tall, bound form struggling forward on her ballet shoes. The
hood looked to be skin tight, the straps pulled tight enough to mold to the
shape of the slave's head. She could tell from the struggles, that walking on
her toes was a painful endeavor. The girl took small careful steps, until her
new master yanked forward on the leash, forcing her to move quickly to catch
up. The long tress of hair, ponytailed and dangling out from the top of the
hood, reminded Gina of Monica. She shrugged as other admirers blocked her view
and she continued her search for her friends.

Tears welled up from Monica's eyes, only to be absorbed by the hood. She
realized she had sold herself into slavery. Fear clenched her heart. She didn't
even know this guy. What said he would let her go in two months, much less
ever? She knew she was bound and at his mercy. She would have to hope she
hadn't seen the last of her freedom.
After what seemed like a long walk, her new master stopped her then put
his mouth close to her ear.
"I want to make some adjustments here," he whispered. Monica was led into
a booth and pushed back into a reclining chair. Her body was quickly strapped
onto to the cool metal until she was immobile. Monica tried to lift her head,
but she realized it was strapped down as well. Better than on my toes, Monica
thought. She could feel some fumbling around her breasts, then a cool feeling
at her nipple. Without warning, a sharp pain struck her left nipple. She tried
to struggle to get away but the straps held tight. Her new master's face loomed
in front of her as she felt another cool feeling at her right nipple. As
another sharp pain coursed through her breast, he spoke loudly into her plugged
ear.
"I took the liberty of bringing you to the casino piercing specialist. You
see, all my slaves are pierced, you are no exception." His laugh faded as he
pulled his face away from her, plunging Monica into silence again. Her nipples
ached from the punctures and she could now feel the cool steel of her new
rings. She was hardly surprised as the metal tool reached into her pussy and
grasped her clit. The pain of this piercing out weighed the others, though. As
she screamed into her blowup gag and fainted, she knew she could never imagine
what further torments were in store for her.

Cindy could not believe the predicament she had gotten herself into. Not
only had she failed at the competition but she owed the house $14,000. Since
the debt was large enough and no costume could repay that single debt, she was
kept as a slave of the house. At first Cindy tried to argue, then fight, but
she was no match for the bruisers that held her. In no time, her naked form was
hauled off to the display area, where her arms were swiftly tied behind her at
wrist and elbow, and she was fitted with a wide steel collar. A thick chain
connected from a short post behind and above her to her collar, holding her
body upright on her knees. A spreader bar was fitted between her knees, forcing
her to display her pussy to the public, while her ankles where bound together.
A huge ball gag was forced between her teeth and strapped on. A final touch was
a blindfold, its padded circles fitting perfectly over her eyes, cutting out
all sight. She couldn't see the attendant approach.
"Hello, Cindy," she said softly. " I assume you didn't fully read the
release you signed at the door, by the way you were fighting. Let me explain.
If you go in debt to the house for more than $10,000 with no way to remedy, you
become a ward of the house. We have the right to sell you to the highest
bidder, who will hopefully satisfy your debt for you. But of course this means
you are this person's slave." Cindy was speechless, not that she could have
cried out. The ball gag forced between her aching jaws caused her to accept the
words she heard in silence. "We have found that most people who go into this
severe a debt are hoping to be sold into slavery. I guess it's their kink," a
light laugh. " So the rule is that for each $5,000, or part thereof, you are to
be kept for a day in slavery. Of course, we don't enforce that." She laughed
out loud as she walked away. Cindy realized she was possibly faced with a
lifetime as a slave. She had no control over who purchased her or what they
chose to do with her. She tried to struggle but the heavy chain held her to the
ground. Tears welled up in her eyes and she began to cry, though only the
subtle shake of her chest gave evidence to the public.



End of Chapter 3 Story (c) 1999 Gwendoline Photography/Thndrshark

comments or questions welcome to [email protected]