Site Network: Submissive Guide | Submissive Journal Prompts | Dominant Guide | Kinky Blogging | My Blog |

Stories and Fantasy

Come enjoy a fantasy, get wrapped up in a hot erotic story. The Iron Gate brings authors and readers together in stories of Dominance, submission and kinky sex. Readers like you have donated their works of fiction. Got a story to share? Please submit it for addition to this page!

Print Essay    Save to Computer

The Gamblers 3

Author: Diana

Filed in: bondage, travel, CELTs, future, gambling

Shit! What miserable fucking luck—the man was in the seat next to mine. I checked my ticket again, 6E (fuck). I tried to slip into my seat without being noticed.

“How you doing, partner?” he said in a friendly way. The girl was on the floor at his feet. She was hugging her legs, her wrists tied to her ankles.

“Sorry ‘bout this, he said, pointing at her with his thumb. “I tried to buy her a seat, but the plane is full. He glanced around the full first-class cabin to illustrate the point. We’ll be a little tight, but I’ll keep her on my side.”

“No problem,” I replied. “There’s plenty of room in these seats. I’ll probably just work. You can let her move around a little if you want.”

He smiled, “Thanks, Later.” Then he went back to his magazine.

In a few minutes, the stewardess walked by and stopped at our row. “Can I get either of you something to drink,” she asked.

“Nothing for me,” I said.

“I’ll have some Champaign, little lady,” the man said.

“Certainly,” she said. Then she noticed the CELT. “I’m sorry, Sir. She’s going to need to be checked. We have some very nice cages in the hold specifically designed for contract-girls. I can gate-check her right here for you.” She started to reach into her apron pocket for a check slip.

“Hold on, little lady,” he answered. “This here’s a pretty valuable piece of property. I’d rather just keep her with me.”

“Sir,” now she was annoyed. “It’s regulations. You can’t keep anything in the aisle. Everything, including this… this woman must fit in the overhead or go under your seat. Otherwise it’s got to be checked. This one is much too tall to go under the seat.” (Airlines now allowed their first-class passengers to transport their CELTs in first class, but this accommodation was really only for petite young girls. Some men liked their CELTs small and tight, believing they were easier to handle and that the sex was better.)

“She’ll fit,” he said, showing his own annoyance now. “Maybe you can get me one of those CELT-belts.”

“I’ll get you a belt, Sir, but if she doesn’t fit fully under the seat, I’ll need to insist that she be checked.” She wanted to get the last word. In a few seconds, she returned with a long, wide belt and handed it to him along with his drink. No words were exchanged.

“Frigid bitch,” he mumbled. “Would you mind holding this, Partner?” He handed me his drink then he positioned the girl between his legs and wrapped the belt around her legs and back and pulled hard. The air went out of her lungs. Then he tightened the belt a little more and buckled it. I could see it digging into her skin.

He reached into his seatback pocket, breathing a little heavily from the exertion. “This bitch is one fucking pain in the ass,” he said as he unfolded a leather hood and placed it over her head, tightening its built-in collar around her neck. Then he laid the girl down on her knees and pushed her head-first under the seat in front with his feet. Her short dress rode up her back, but he didn’t bother to pull it down.

“Nice, huh?” he said, pointing at her ass with his toe.

“Can she breathe in that thing,” I asked, forcing myself to speak casually.

“No, she’s just gonna have to hold her breath for a while,” he said laughing. Then he fluffed up his pillow and turned away.

I watched her long toes curl and uncurl as she settled into her confinement. It was clear that she could breathe through the hood’s stitching, but it wouldn’t be pleasant or easy. It must also be getting really hot in there, I thought. After a while, I looked away and sat back in my seat for the takeoff. This was none of my business, I thought again. Stay out of it. She’s just a CELT …a CELT with a transferable contract. That basically makes her a prostitute, a whore.

The stewardess stopped by once to check. It was obvious from her frown that the girl wasn’t really fully out of the aisle, but the woman chose to ignore the infraction rather than start another argument. I smiled at her for this small mercy.

The plane took off without further incident.

I spent the next hour staring at the girl’s feet, wondering what it was like for her. The planes’ interior had been darkened and most of the passengers were sleeping when the man finally stirred. Stretching, he turned on his overhead light, unfastened his seatbelt, and pulled the girl out. After pausing for breath, he sat her upright on the floor and removed her hood. Her face and hair were covered with sweat. Carelessly, he wiped her off with a couple of drink napkins and then set her back against the side of the plane still bound hand-to-foot.

“’Scuze me, Partner,” he said. “…need to visit the boy’s room.” I smiled and politely moved my legs aside to let him pass.

When he was gone, I looked over at the girl. She was still trying to recover from the hood.

“He’s a character,” I said, trying to be casually friendly.

She looked at me and smiled politely, but said nothing.

“He seems to know all the tricks.” I persisted, not willing to be put off. She was silent. “He seems to know all the tricks, right?” I repeated, annoyed.

“He’s a sadistic pig,” she answered. It was obvious that this had just slipped out. Immediately she looked up, shocked at her loss of control.

For a moment neither of us said anything. Then she started talking fast, much too fast. “Not that he’s done anything wrong, Sir. Our contract, of course, gives him the right to treat me just about any way he wants. He’s maybe a little too harsh. We just need more time to get used to each other.”

She thought for a moment and then restarted her rapid-fire monologue. “Please Sir, please, if you have one ounce of mercy in you, please don’t tell him what I said.” It was obvious that she was afraid, but it also appeared that beneath the surface, she resented the need to beg for my help.

I thought about this for a minute. Truthfully, the responsible thing to do was to tell the man everything. If, God forbid, something bad happened in the future and it was discovered that I could have prevented it by warning him, I could be sued. An angry CELT is not a good thing to have sleeping in your bed or even at the foot of it.

Still, was that necessary? It would get me further entangled with these two. Shit, why couldn’t I have just kept my mouth shut? I thought for a moment and then I had what seemed to be a good idea. “Maybe you should speak to him. Your contract gives you the right to protest, to contact your attorney. Why don’t you try that?” I suggested. My tone was reasonable.

She looked at me as if I were an idiot. “Why should he talk to me? My contract has only a year to run. He knows I can’t end it now. It would mean the loss of all further compensation,” then her eyes filled, “and that would mean the end of my family, the death of my brother.” She was getting worked up again, emotional; exactly what I was trying to avoid.

“Yes, I guess that is a problem.” I said dismissively.

I didn’t have an answer for her and, more importantly, I didn’t want to get into a heavy discussion with a CELT whore. She was nothing to me. Why was I even bothering to talk to her; it was stupid. She had created her own problem; complaining about it afterward made her what, a cheat? I stopped talking.

She glared at me and suddenly I was glad she was tied. In a low voice, she started talking again. “Yes, it’s a problem…” She wasn’t hiding her anger now, and most of it was directed at me. How did I get into this mess!

“Let me tell you what he did to me last night.” She was whispering, but every word was sharp. “He made me strip down to a thong that he likes, tied my arms behind, and locked my ankles together with a short hobble-chain. He likes to watch me run.” Her voice dropped even lower. “Then he put his Piranhas on me. That’s what they’re called, Piranhas. I know you saw them tonight. It’s like being eaten alive.”

She paused for a second to regain some composure. “He attached a Y-leash and walked me around the hotel, stopping at every party to check out the action. Can you imagine what its like to be displayed naked on a leash… with women watching! At one party, he put me on my knees then he tied the leash to a coat rack and hooked the hobble-chain to my wrists. I had to balance myself with my nipples. Everyone thought it was hilarious.”

“Maybe you should try that with your cock, Computer-Boy, before you criticize me. They make Piranhas for men, you know.” She stopped and started to cry. They were silent tough-guy tears, but the way she wiped them off on her knees reminded me of a little girl.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I said in a whisper. I was doing what all men do when faced with tears—lie. “I didn’t mean to put you down before; it’s just that this is none of my business. It’s also not right for you to talk that way about your contract owner. As you said, he can do whatever he wants with you. In fact, if I don’t tell him about this conversation and something happens, I could be sued.”

She wiped off her tears and looked at me with absolute loathing. “Go ahead, tell him,” she spit it out. “Maybe he’ll punish me right here and the two of you can get off. A cowboy-sadist and a Wall Street-coward, you two could be great friends.” She starred at me defiantly. We both jumped when the man appeared in the aisle.

He was carrying a glass of ice and four small bottles of vodka. “I raided the liquor closet,” he said jovially, ignoring the tension that was hanging between us. “She’s a good looker, no? He glanced at me as he moved sideways back into his chair.

“Yes,” I said red-faced, “very nice.” I started to reach for my computer, trying to avoid any more conversation. This flight was turning into a nightmare.

But now the man was fully awake and talkative. “Won her a few weeks ago in a card game,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper as he poured his first drink. “Fella was drawing to an inside straight. He was so happy to make it that he thought he owned the pot and bet the farm, including her. Bad way to play! I had a full house from the get-go. He never knew what hit him. …been fucking her every night,” he added. “…amazing muscles, good moves …I just needed to teach her some manners. Now she’s okay. Amazing things they got these days to keep these CELT bitches in line.”

I thought about the Piranhas.

“Yup… I got an electric whip in my bag that I used on her a couple of time. It hurts like Hell, but it don’t make any marks. …copper’s woven right into the leather braid. You don’t need to kill yourself, even a light stoke gets her full attention.” Glancing over to be sure I was listening, he continued, “Best thing is to put them up by their wrists and get them on their toes. Then put a good gag on ‘em and you’re in for some real fun. Jesse here is strong and defiant. She’ll kick for half-an-hour—maybe 20 strokes with the electric whip.” He paused and took a sip of his drink. “Can’t go too fast with the power turned up, you know; they’ll pass out on you…got to give ‘em time to rest.”

He lowered his voice and moved a little closer. “You also want her conscious when you’re finished. That’s the best time to fuck ‘em you know…right after, when their brain’s still sparkin’. Give you a real ride.” He laughed and, not knowing what else to do, I smiled and nodded my head in agreement.

The girl looked up at me. I knew what she was thinking. This made me a little angry. No one, not even me, likes to be called a coward, especially by a stranger…a CELT. This bitch was purposely antagonizing me and I impusively, I asked him, “What do you do when she complains about you…to other people?” The girl’s face turned white. Not shooting off your mouth now are you, bitch? I thought.

He glanced at Jesse then said, “Naw…Jesse wouldn’t do that. She knows that I won’t put up with that kind of foolishness. If she did that to me, I’d whip her hard for days. I know exactly how much she can take; I could easily keep her screaming for a week.

He looked at me hard. “She didn’t bother you with any tall tales while I was in the John, did she Partner?” he asked. I knew that he was watching to see if I glanced at the girl.

“No. No, she didn’t say anything to me,” I lied. “I was just wondering.” I never blinked or took my eyes off his.

“That’s good, real good,” he said slowly. His jovial mood returned and he paused to sip his drink. Then he looked over at her again, “Got to keep that whip oiled up, right Jess. Don’t want the leather to stiffen up.” Then he turned back to me, “The best thing for a whip is the oil from a girl’s skin. I know you think I’m shittin’ you, but it’s true. Just keep turnin’ the whip to make sure it covers every part.”

“Probably sell her contract when I get back,” he continued. “She’s too much trouble, too much baggage for my line of work… There are plenty of girls around to rent. No need to carry my own around with me. Am I right?”

“What line of work is that,” I asked, ignoring his question and trying desperately to now sound friendly. (I was thinking about the pain my vicious little remark might cause her.)

“Well, I’m pretty much retired now, but I do some gambling from time to time. Keeps life interesting, you know. You ever play?” It sounded like a question he had asked many times before.

“No, not really,” I said. “Well, sometimes, just for fun.”

“Tell you what,” he leaned over, there was vodka on his breath. “How would you like to play for this here girl? I ‘seen you eying her. She’d make a great bed-warmer. And like I said, she’s strong and tough…takes a lot of pain.”

I looked at him, knowing that he was joking, putting me on. “What’s she worth,” I asked, playing along.

“’bout a hundred grand now, still got another year or so to run on her contract.” He was bragging, showing off.

I nodded my head, smiling, still going along with the joke. Then my mouth opened and I heard myself saying, “OK, I’ll bet you a hundred thousand dollars, against her contract. One cut of the cards.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. What was I doing! In a panic, I realized that a quick laugh would make the statement sound like a joke. I needed to laugh! Laugh, you fool!

But something held me back. It was the only truly brave thing I had ever done.

The girl looked at me, openly curious. The man’s eye’s narrowed and he put his face close to mine. “I was just kidding, Partner.” then he leaned back in his seat and was quiet for a few seconds, sipping his drink.

Slowly, he turned to me and asked, “You got a hundred thousand dollars, Kid?”

“Yes.” I said simply, holding his gaze. Actually, I had $108,000—my life’s savings. WHAT WAS I DOING!

The man looked at me for a long moment. I held my breath, maybe he would laugh the whole thing off. Then he glanced at the girl. Guilt was written all over her face. He knew immediately that we had done more than talk; he also knew that most of that talk had been about him. I could see him turn a little red in anger.

He nodded and looked back at me. Then he smiled. The girl was going to be whipped exactly as he had described. A personal insult was an important thing for him. She realized it at the same time and trembled. She knew difference between casual pain and real punishment.

But now he wanted something from me as well. I had apparently violated some unwritten gambler’s code.

“OK, Pal. You come up with the dough and it’s a bet.” His tone was no longer friendly, it was distinctly hostile.

I hid my fear. Maybe I could just laugh now, roll over and go to sleep. Who cares what this creep thinks or says? So he punishes her…so what. The truth is that she deserves it. Well, maybe she doesn’t deserve being whipped for a week; and maybe I was partially responsible for egging her on, but so what? …just a CELT, remember!

Every logical part of my brain desperately wanted me to laugh it off and forget it, forget about her. But I just couldn’t do it. Without thinking, I reached into my wallet and retrieved my debit card. I swiped it through the seatback reader with a shaking hand. Using a few keystrokes on the seat’s built-in computer, I moved a hundred thousand dollars into an escrow account and assigned it a password, writing it secretly on a paper napkin. He watched all this with a smirk on his face.

“You sure seem to know what you’re doing with that banking stuff,” he said. Then he stood up and pulled his large leather bag out of the overhead locker. Unzipping an outside pocket, he found the girl’s contract. I could see that it already had several transfer endorsements on the back.

“She sure is going to look good at your feet if you win,” he said. “I’m also gonna throw in everything in this bag. You’ll need this stuff to keep her in line.” I could tell that I was being worked now. He smelled my money. I was now his pigeon or whatever gamblers call their prey.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, glancing at the girl. This is lunacy, I thought. I was about to lose my life’s savings for an exotic pet, a whore.

“Well, OK!” he said emphatically, ringing the call button. In a few seconds the same stewardess appeared. “Ma’am, would you mind getting my friend and me a pack of your best playin’ cards?” She nodded stiffly and went for the cards. We waited in silence.

When the cards arrived, he shuffled them on the divider between our seats. His hands moved like a magician’s. I was glad this was a simple cut of the deck.

“You know what,” he said, placing the deck between us. “Let’s bring Jesse into this.” Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the Piranhas. Then he retrieved a large ball gag that he had stuffed in the seatback. Moving the girl between his legs, he pushed the gag into her mouth and tightened it behind her neck. Then he quickly pulled down her dress and placed the Piranhas on her nipples. Reaching back into the bag, he found a high leather collar. I knew this was for discipline.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You can let her out when you win,” he said, positioning the collar on her neck.

“And if I lose?” I asked.

“Then you can watch her for the next three hours,” he replied. He had buckled the collar so tightly that her face had turned red. She wasn’t getting enough air.

“Look, there’s no reason for this,” I said, starting to panic. The girl was barely able to breathe. A blunt point at the top of the collar kept her head high so that she was staring directly at me. I was reminded of the scene at the airport.

He was having sadistic fun with both of us and enjoying himself. He was also continuing to work me, ensuring that I had yet another reason to continue with the bet.

“OK, I’ll tell you what, partner,” he said reasonably. “Once our bet is finished, I’ll let her out.” I knew it was a lie. Once he won, we would both be at his mercy. Jesse would stay in the collar until she passed out, then he would devise some other torture for her. He wanted us to suffer and he knew that punishing her was painful to me as well. The girl looked over at me with her mouth open, breathing hard. She was now working hard to survive.”

I smiled at her reassuringly, but I felt sick.

“Come on, Kid,” he urged. “Don’t lose your balls now. This one’s tough. She can take it, can you? Worry about yourself. It’s your money.”

What a vicious bastard, I thought. I can’t let him whip her for a week because of something I did.

“OK,” I said, defiantly. “Let’s get this over with.”

He smiled again and turned to the girl. “You got yourself a real champion here, Jess. Man’s willing to put up a hundred thousand dollars to keep your pretty ass from a little punishment.”

He was absolutely gleeful. “My name’s Max, by the way, Max Springer,” he said as he held out his hand. “…and this here is Jesse. I don’t like to gamble with strangers.”

“I’m Howard Lowe,” I said, returning his handshake with a limp wrist. My face was ashen and despite my earlier resolve, I was afraid.

“Howard,” he repeated, turning the name around scornfully in his mouth. Now, he was really enjoying himself. Then he pulled the Piranhas out of his pocket and held them up for both of us to see. “These little babies are amazing,” he said, pushing on the side tabs and demonstrating the pinching movement of the inside points. “And the name really fits. They can really bite.”

He slipped Jesse’s dress down to her waist. She sat on the floor half naked, bound, and gagged. We both looked down at her from our plush seats. She starred back at us unashamed. Grabbing one of her breasts, Max held it tight as he pushed the Piranha over her nipple and slowly released the tabs. Jesse closed her eyes and absorbed the pain. I could see that it was a lot worse now since her nipples were already sore. Max would have known that.

He watched her anguished face for a moment and then did the same to her other breast. Pulling her dress back up, he muttered, “We’ll leave that up. Don’t want upset that stewardess, now do we?”

He whispered to the girl loudly enough for me to hear, “You’ll be okay, Jesse. Just keep thinking about how much worse it will be when we get home. She held my eyes. I could see fear; this was no idle threat. The man really was a sadistic pig, just as she had said.

“I hate to see her cry,” he said then he smiled.

That was when I lost my nerve. “Let me ask you a question,” I said with a shaky voice. “Suppose I just buy out her contract. You said you were thinking about selling it anyway, this way we both end up with what we want.” This wasn’t true at all, I thought. All I wanted was my hundred thousand dollars safely back in my account and to be free of this mess.

He looked at me like the street fighter that he really was. “That might have been OK before, kid, but then you and Jess here went and made this personal. Personal is no good. This girl is my property. You fucked with her head without my permission. Now she’s goin’ have to pay for her mistake and yours too.”

His arrogance put some steel in my back. I looked him in the eyes and even managed to exhibit a bit of bravado, “Well then, all that’s left to do is cut the cards.” It was all show; I was scared and I knew he was going to win.

Placing the cards down, he gestured with his hand for me to take my cut. I managed to nod in his direction—you first.

Smiling, he reached down and cut the deck—a Jack. He just smiled, leaned down, and showed the girl the card. Her eyes rolled and I thought she had fainted, but then her eyes opened and she looked at me. It was the look of someone condemned; I had sent her to Hell. “I’ll charge up the whip’s batteries as soon as we get home, Jess, so you can start your week right.” He was enjoying every moment of this.

Then he looked over at me, “Your card, How-word.”

I ignored his jibe, but my hand was shaking so badly that I had trouble cutting the deck. I didn’t even look at the card I’d drawn, just faced it towards him. He looked down from my eyes to the cards, smiled broadly, and leaned back in his chair happy. I had lost!

I was devastated. Three year’s savings gone in a second and a week of vindictive torture for a girl who had just asked me for a little help. Surprisingly, the money didn’t seem all that important anymore as I thought about Jesse’s beautiful body writhing at the end of this asshole’s whip.

Oh man, what had I done? I felt sick.

Numb, I checked the card in my hand to see how close I had come. It was the queen of hearts. The queen of… THE QUEEN!

Max looked at me unfazed. “Looks like you won, Kid. Congratulations.” He picked up the contract, wrote in my name as owner and signed it. Then he put it back in the bag and gestured for us to change seats. Once he was settled, he casually rolled over and went back to sleep. Gamblers don’t linger at a losing table.

I was dumbfounded and sat there for some time enjoying the relief that coursed through my body. Then I remembered the girl and moved to her aid. I swore to myself that she would never suffer in my hands.

Reaching down, I removed her gag and then as gently as I could I took off the Piranhas and put them back in the bag. I tried not to touch her breasts, but of course that was unavoidable. She was crying softly. I wiped her face and untied her hands and ankles. Still crying a little she moved in between my feet and rested her head on my lap. I could feel her arm inching forward to find a secure place between legs. I pushed the hair out of her face and then got instantly hard when I saw her mouth so near my cock. She probably noticed, but I didn’t care. We had won!

When we started to descend, she turned around and positioned herself for the belt. I put it back on and gently moved her halfway under the seat. Of course, I didn’t use the hood.

Max, who had slept for most of the trip, finally woke up as we were landing and watched us with his now-famous smirk. When the plane arrived at the gate, he stood up and gave me a quick goodbye handshake. “You are the man, Howard,” was all he said. Then he was gone.

At the time, I thought it was just a Max-like dumb thing to say. Later, I would regard those four words as precious wisdom …most precious wisdom.

Related Stories

The Enigmatic Angel

Iron Gate Banner Exchange