by J. E. Taylor
I stepped onto the dark wood floor and scanned the tables looking for my poison, and then I saw the neon sign announcing the poker area. The sign sparkled and I started in that direction. As I got closer, I realized I couldn’t see in the room. A veil of black surrounded it, buffering the view and when I stepped toward the door, the pit boss caught my arm.
“Only those that purchase chips can enter.” He gave me a sharp once over.
“Oh,” I mumbled and opened my pocketbook, pulling out my meager two hundred dollars. It was all I had and I prayed I’d see it at least double before I left.
He gave me a tight smile and traded the cash with odd-looking chips that looked like gold, but had strange symbols etched in each side.
“Thank you,” I said and he parted the curtain just enough so I could slip through and then he released the fabric and closed down my exit point. I scanned the room and swallowed the lump that had formed and blocked my ability to breathe. There was only one table under an eerie spotlight in what seemed like a cavern of black. My gaze met his and the warmth I felt at his proximity in the bar wrapped around me and pulled me forward like a wrangler with a rope.
The song playing faded and the new one made me slow my step. “Layla” by Eric Clapton started and my cheeks burned as my gaze fell back on the dealer. He smiled.
“Why hello, Layla, welcome to hell’s den.,” He spread his hands out. His smooth tone nearly knocked me over.
“Um, hello.” I glanced around at the empty space. “Am I too late?” I asked because I couldn’t fathom being the only player.
“No, darling, you are right on time.” His dark eyes sparkled. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
The chair looked inviting, so I sat and dumped my handful of coins on the table. Mr. Perfect slid in the chair opposite me and folded his finely manicured hands before him on the table.
I took a quick look at his lapel, looking for a nametag but it was just smooth, unbroken black fabric and I met his gaze again. “I’m at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
“Kaine,” he said.
His voice sent a chill of pleasure through me, and I busied myself with piling my coins in a neat stack. “Well, Kaine, what’s the ante?” I licked my lips and met his gaze.
“A day.”
I blinked and my gaze dropped to my chips. Confused, I looked back up at him. “I, um.” I glanced around the room. “Is this a joke?”
His laugher wrapped around me in a caress that left me wet and wanting.
“No. House rules. The ante is a day. Twenty-four hours. You have to open with a day as well.”
“I don’t get it...” I trailed off.
“You have two hundred days to lose and the ability to win an unlimited amount.”
I stared at the gold coins and then back to him. “What about money?”
He leaned forward. “Time is more precious. Now, are you ready?”
“No,” I said and stood. This was not worth my time and despite the need to stay in the good graces of Mr. Perfect, I needed money more. I had a rent to pay, food to buy, all the mundane things that kept me alive.
His eyes flashed a warning. “Sit down.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone matched the sharpness of his gaze.
I paused. “I need money.” I reached for my coins. There were plenty of ways to win out on the casino floor.
His hand clasped around my wrist and yanked me closer as he stood. Our faces nearly met over the center of the table and the first thread of fear wound its way around my legs.
“You no longer require money,” he whispered. That scent that had made me nearly cream my jeans two weeks ago made my stomach roll.
I yanked my wrist from his grasp and stepped back. The smile he sent my way broadcast the underlying meaning. It was far more diabolical than I was willing to gamble on, but my feet were planted in place.
He leaned forward and his hot breath tickled my ear. “If you forfeit, you will forever regret not taking the chance to win more time.”
“What does that mean?”
“You have a chance to win time; if not, you have a choice between an eternity of pleasure or pain.”
The choice seemed easy, but as his hand waved to the right, the viewing of what I assumed was pleasure left me cold. Several men and women were bound and splayed while a pack ravaged them. I wasn’t sure whether the ones ravaging were men or women or something else altogether and I shuddered. Not one of the poor souls had an empty orifice, and not one looked like they enjoyed being pillaged.
I pulled my gaze away from the lewd scene and met his dark eyes.
“You are out of your mind.” My voice held the throaty quality of fear.
“House rules.” He tilted his head and waved to his other side. “Unless you would prefer this destination.”
My stomach did a slow roll at the gruesome display. The main staple seemed to be knives and the poor victims couldn’t scream beyond the duct tape as blades slowly sliced them to pieces.
I forced myself to look down at the table between Kaine and me. I had gambled all my life, had left my husband and kid destitute. I no longer had a home beyond the casino and that was only on my winning days, which were fewer and far between these days.
“Who are you?” I whispered when I was sure I wouldn’t throw up.
He just smiled and dealt the first hand. Setting the cards down, he waved toward the latest brutal scene. “Pain?” Then he waved his hand to the sadistic orgy. “Or pleasure?” His last wave went to the table. “Or play?”
“None of the above. I want out of here.” I glared at him.
He chuckled. “Then I will choose for you.” He picked up his cards.
When he lifted his gaze from the cards, I wanted to shrivel up into a ball and disappear.
“Why am I here?” I asked, stalling. I did not want to pick up the cards he dealt. I had a feeling the minute I engaged in this mad game, I was lost.
His gaze narrowed as he studied me. “Put your ante in and pick up your cards,” he growled.
I jerked in the seat in shock and then flicked a coin into the center before I reached for the cards. It was hard to concentrate with my hands shaking as though I were in sub-zero temperatures.
My cards weren’t bad: I had two kings, a jack, a six and a four. I dropped the six and four and put two fingers up.
He chuckled. “What’s your bet?”
I flung another coin and shivered at the thought of even a day in chains. “Where are we?”
“You have stepped into my domain.” He matched my bet.
“And what domain would that be?” I leveled a sharp snark in both my glare and my voice. I figured showing fear had diminished my chance for getting out of this room in one piece.
He matched my bet and dropped a single card. My stomach knotted as he dealt two cards to me and a single one to his hand.
I had pulled out two pair with a king high, but his single card weighed on me. I bit my lip and counted out three chips, tossed them in the pot while I gave him a tight smile.
“Hell.” He called and spread his fucking full house across the table.
My cards flew toward the table and he grinned, collecting coins in slow motion. The tink of metal echoed and when he looked up, I slid my chair back.
“That’s eight days.” He moved through the table as if he was a ghost and before I could blink, the burn of his hands lifted me and slammed me into a hard wall.
My chest heaved as shock, fear, and anger webbed through me. His hands were rough as they tore the fabric of my dress. His mouth was even worse as it closed over mine, forcing a kiss that tasted like brimstone and ash.
“Where did you say we were?” I asked when he pulled away, fixating on me with a salacious grin.
“You are in hell,” he whispered.
I blinked as his hands continued to explore my body. The satin buffered me from his scorching fingers. “That would make you...” I trailed off and shivered. A cry let ou
t as his fingers found an opening; I tried to shove him away. Invisible binds pulled my arms wide, clamped them in place even as the rest of me struggled against his advances.
“That would make me Kaine,” he whispered. My mind couldn’t grasp any meaning in the name. I gasped as his hands pushed my thighs apart.
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” If I kept talking, maybe this lunatic would back off.
“Yes,” he whispered, and this time the tone was the same as it had been in the casino a few weeks ago, prompting emotions I would rather kill at the moment, along with his smug grin.
His chuckle was punctuated by more tearing at the silk fabric and I panicked. “Why am I here, again?” My voice hit a high pitch.
He stopped his exploration and met my gaze. “You are on the edge of death. If you lose all your chips, you belong to hell.”
I fought against the thought and a flurry of questions drowned my mind. I had no recollection of an accident of any sort. This had to be a sick joke and I spat at him. “Let me go!”
“I have you for eight days,” he said.
“Not if I win them back,” I said purely out of desperation. A growl in my voice overrode the fear.
“House rules: you pay your dues as they accrue,” he whispered, his voice no more than a feral snarl.
“Fuck the house rules,” I gasped.
He pulled away from my skin with a blink. His eyes flashed something more than just the beast with wandering hands, as if he waited for me to say something. When I just glared at him, his features hardened.
“Feisty bitch.” He leveled a sharp gaze at me. “Perhaps I’ve miscalculated,” he purred. “Instead of hell’s whore, I may claim you as mine instead,” he said. And damn it all, my cheeks heated. He was a fine specimen but I just never pictured being the devil’s slut for all eternity. I said as much.
He leaned in close. “I’m not the devil,” he whispered and stepped away. With a brush of his hand, whatever held me in place let go. I pulled myself back together with what was left of the red silk fabric. I hand combed my hair back and met his probing stare.
“Does this mean I get another chance to win my week back before you defile me?” I tried to sound confident, but my shaking voice only served to entertain the bastard.
He circled around me, looking like a feral beast and when he bit his lip in contemplation, I cursed the flush of heat that encompassed me. The way he stalked around me made both my heart and my pussy clench. My thoughts wandered of their own accord and my gaze slowly dropped from his intense eyes, to his full lips, and then down to the open vee of his shirt to the smooth, tan skin of his chest.
I couldn’t help it; I licked my lips and my damn libido fired up.
Kaine stepped closer. “I will give you a chance, but if I win, you have to swallow me whole for however many days you lose.” He took my hand and pressed it against the front of his pants.
What lay beneath the fabric pulled a squeak from my throat. My heart did triple time at the thought of sucking him. He grinned.
“Deal?”
I blinked, my hand still cupping a part of his hard form and for a moment, I questioned whether this was real or just a really hot dream. It seemed all too familiar. His throaty chuckle brought my gaze back to his.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He stepped away, taking a seat at the table.
With a wave of his hand, both visions disappeared and it was only the two of us, surrounded by absolute blackness. He shuffled the deck, scanning my disheveled form. “Sit.” He nodded toward the chair.
The little voice in my head balked but my body obeyed; I took a seat. Five cards sailed in front of each of us and he raised an eyebrow. I tossed in my ante and he matched it. When I picked up the cards, my throat closed and I had a bear of a time drawing a breath. My gaze kept looking at the ante. A day. I bit my lip, trying to decipher what I was going to do with this shit hand. I had to match my ante to get cards and I couldn’t see winning this.
“What if I fold?” I asked and he grinned.
“They you suck my cock for whatever you have in the pot.” He picked up my ante and shuffled the coin between his fingers before he dropped it back on the felt between us.
I nearly chewed through my lower lip. My highest card was a nine. I didn’t even have one face card or one pair to gamble with, and my heart clamored in my chest. If I held onto the nine and dropped the rest, I could get as bad a hand as I had now. That would mean two days’ worth of constant blow jobs.
I closed my eyes and hung my head, shuffling the cards in front of me.
He tapped his fingers on the table as he waited.
“Fuck it,” I mumbled and put four cards down, flipping another coin into the pot.
He dropped three cards this time and the minute the four cards were placed in front of me, I held my breath. One by one, I lifted them and with each card revealed, my stomach dropped lower and lower. My less than stellar hand consisted of a pair of nines.
“It’s your bet,” he purred. His eyes sparkling at my readable reaction.
“Call.” I met his gaze.
He shuffled coins and then moved five into the growing pot. It was a dare and I couldn’t fathom sucking him off for that long.
“Dammit,” I growled and threw my hand down.
The table disappeared and so did my chair. I landed on my knees in front of him.
“That’s ten days,” he purred. My gaze snapped up to his. “Ten glorious days fucking your mouth.”
“But I thought it was just two days,” I gasped.
“You got straight A’s in math—you can count. But in case you are having a hard time of it, you owed me eight days before this hand. Eight plus two.” His hand snaked out, grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me closer to his crotch.
“I...I...” I stuttered, trying to backpedal.
He looked at his watch. “Time starts now.” His gaze left me hot and cold at the same time.
“What if I refuse?” I breathed the words and his features hardened.
“Then I will make sure your ten days are more brutal than what I showed you earlier. I will let them have you.” He pointed. The new display showed beings with teeth and claws, and the souls stuck in the space with them screamed as they were ripped slowly to pieces while being ravaged by the beasts. It was a combination of both horrors he showed me before.
I blinked, and then made my decision. I reached for his zipper and he sighed with a grin as my lips slid over his hard cock. He was longer and thicker than any man I could remember sucking off and lately, there were more than I cared to admit. He stretched my lips, filling the space in my mouth with only a quarter of his length.
He let me do the work, sucking and stroking, until both his hands threaded into my hair. The first thrust of his hips choked me and I gagged around him, but that didn’t slow him down. He pressed farther and farther down my throat; each thrust bashed my uvula until all the muscles in my neck constricted and pulled him farther down my esophagus.
“That’s it, baby, swallow every fucking inch of me,” he purred as he fucked the back of my throat. Each stroke slammed his balls into my chin. “Oh, fuck, yeah.” He sped up his assault until he drowned me with semen.
He pushed one last time, the spasms sending spurts after spurts into my throat and when he pulled out of my mouth, a thick line of cum drizzled onto the floor. He sat as I coughed and gagged and finally caught my breath.
“Two hundred thirty-nine hours and forty minutes to go,” he said with a smile and I stared in horror as he twitched back to life.
I blinked back the tears and took a deep breath before I covered his cock with my lips. Instead of stroking, I ran my tongue around the sensitive tip, slid it in the slit and tasted the hint of pre-cum that bloomed. It was salty, like I expected, but it also burned on my tongue.
“Are you considering forfeiting?”
“No, I’m just caching my breath.” I cursed the gods for taking the gamble.
<
br /> “There will be no breath catching.” He pulled me back in place, widening his legs and lounging with his cock at attention and his balls hanging over the edge of the chair. “You can suck my balls when you need to catch your breath.”
I glared at the smug look on his face. “I might just bite it all off,” I muttered. His gaze traveled to the horrific scene still playing in the background. The volume increased and all I could hear were screams of agony and the tearing of flesh.
Instead of reacting, I lowered my mouth over him, accepting my punishment for taking the gamble in the first place. I calculated the number of times I would have to suck him off and let out a wail of despair when I realized I had to do this another seven hundred and nineteen times, assuming it took him twenty minutes to blow his load and less than five minutes to recover between orgasms.
HE GROANED, UNLOADING again, and then he pushed me away. “Time,” he whispered, his voice so satiated that I wanted to inflict as much pain on him as I was experiencing. My lips were chapped, raw, and as swollen as my tongue was. My throat felt as if I swallowed a dozen razors between his continued mouth fucking and my vomiting. After the thirtieth time, I couldn’t stomach his jizz and every time he finished, I leaned over the bucket someone had provided and purged my stomach. This time was no different.
The whine that came out when the acid flowed over my lips sounded almost inhuman and tears burned my eyes. The scraping of chairs pulled my attention and I spit before I looked over my shoulder. The poker table was set back up.
Kaine had one arm over the back of his chair and he nodded toward the opposite seat.
“You’re fucking crazy,” I whispered, my voice as raw as my lips. But I got to my feet and stumbled to the chair.
Without words, he threw in a chip and waited until I tossed in mine. I met his gaze and my throat clenched at the amusement etched into the curve of his lips. I can safely say after ten days, I hated him. The spice scent that radiated from him was vile. I hadn’t caught the undertone of depravity, but now it’s all I smelled.
“Ante up,” he purred with a grin.