I could tell that Rebecca was confident the moment she decided to go all in on the hand she was holding. Hell, she’d already lost all of her clothes to me, all except her pantyhose and heels, her luck had to change at some point, right?
“I’ll be your slave for the weekend,” she said with a happy glint in her eye, the kind of glint that suggested she thought she’d be nobody’s slave, not with the cards she was clutching to her naked chest. “If you win that is.”
“And if I lose?” I said, peering down at the two components of the royal flush I was holding, trying desperately not to grin.
“Then you give me my clothes, I leave, and we never speak of this again.”
I paused for a moment, glancing at the cards on the table and the soft curve of Rebecca’s breasts as she breathed with quick excitement. Her nipples were hard, though it wasn’t cold. Becky found the prospect of winning to be extremely arousing, she always had. Poor thing… though arousal wasn’t out of the question, later on…
“Okay, you’re on,” I purred. “Slave for the weekend versus your dignity. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Honestly, she was smiling right up until the moment I laid my cards down and her little mind registered what had happened. But she didn’t say anything, she didn’t protest or try to bargain with me. She simply sighed and nodded, then stood from the table and wandered slowly up the stairs, almost floating to the bedroom and her sordid fate.
As I watched her depart, I felt a small twinge of guilt. After all, some might say it was dishonest, luring my best friend over, plying her with wine, then tricking her with oldest card con in the world: cards stashed under the table and a gullible drunk for an opponent. But as I studied the soft curve of her pretty little ass and the velvet texture of her exquisite pantyhose, I suddenly noticed that she was wearing no panties… and, with a tiny gasp, I realized that Becky wasn’t the only mark in this little con.
“I’ll be your slave for the weekend,” she said with a happy glint in her eye, the kind of glint that suggested she thought she’d be nobody’s slave, not with the cards she was clutching to her naked chest. “If you win that is.”
“And if I lose?” I said, peering down at the two components of the royal flush I was holding, trying desperately not to grin.
“Then you give me my clothes, I leave, and we never speak of this again.”
I paused for a moment, glancing at the cards on the table and the soft curve of Rebecca’s breasts as she breathed with quick excitement. Her nipples were hard, though it wasn’t cold. Becky found the prospect of winning to be extremely arousing, she always had. Poor thing… though arousal wasn’t out of the question, later on…
“Okay, you’re on,” I purred. “Slave for the weekend versus your dignity. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Honestly, she was smiling right up until the moment I laid my cards down and her little mind registered what had happened. But she didn’t say anything, she didn’t protest or try to bargain with me. She simply sighed and nodded, then stood from the table and wandered slowly up the stairs, almost floating to the bedroom and her sordid fate.
As I watched her depart, I felt a small twinge of guilt. After all, some might say it was dishonest, luring my best friend over, plying her with wine, then tricking her with oldest card con in the world: cards stashed under the table and a gullible drunk for an opponent. But as I studied the soft curve of her pretty little ass and the velvet texture of her exquisite pantyhose, I suddenly noticed that she was wearing no panties… and, with a tiny gasp, I realized that Becky wasn’t the only mark in this little con.
