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A Gaming Chance

by nothing

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And our research on the psychological stimulation and effects of femdom stories on submissive males

The ‘Golden Palace’ Sporting club and casino had an unusual feel about it during closing hours. No punters, no croupiers, very few employees at all. There were two, less than glamorous, middle-aged cleaning ladies standing in the corner with their switched off Dysons by there sides. Then there was Tracy, the cocktail waitress, in full uniform carrying a tray with two drinks and an ashtray on it. As she passed the cleaners they exchanged a mutual, slightly indignant rising of the eyebrows at each other.

Tracy arrived at a table in another corner of the club. There sat her boss, Tony Parker, and the supreme beauty of a young Lady she had come across before, Sandra Burton. She deftly placed the drinks before the twosome, a large gin on ice for Sandra and a large straight scotch for Tony. ‘Thanks Trace’ offered Tony, she gave a facsimile of a smile before placing down the ashtray and pouring slimline tonic water into Sandra’s gin. Sandra offered no thanks, in fact no recognition at all; she simply took out a menthol superking from her bejewelled silver cigarette case and placed it nonchalantly between her gorgeous, painted lips. Tony leant across the table to light it for her, she accepted the light, again with no thanks but followed it with a suggestion of an exhale towards Tracy. Tracy stoically said nothing and withdrew, albeit with a slightly sarcastic curtsey. However the sarcasm was wasted on Sandra who was acclimatised to obsequious behaviour.

Walking past the cleaning ladies, away from the earshot of her boss and his guest she whispered to them, ‘did you see that, he threatened to sack me the other day for having a crafty smoke!’

‘I know,’ replied Elsie, also in a whisper, ‘he doesn’t even smoke himself in here since the ban.’

‘Bitch!’ hissed Tracy as she trundled off to the bar.

‘So, sweetheart,’ offered Tony in a slightly pained manner, ‘why can’t you just take servants with you?’

‘Because I took my servants last year and this year I want slaves!’

‘But blimey love; you treat your servants like they were slaves anyway.’

‘No I don’t’ she riled, delivering a long jet of cigarette smoke past Tony’s right ear ‘I may talk to them that way, but this bloody communist Government are too damn protective of underlings. I nearly got into trouble for flicking a stable lad with my crop not so long back, or don’t you recall.’

Tony recalled all right, he had, had to use his influence with the local constabulary to defuse the possibility of charges. The ‘flick’ had actually resulted in five stitches down the side of the lad’s face; Tony had also slipped him a few quid to help calm things down although ‘dismissal with no references’ had probably resulted in this money being spent
all too quickly. Tony also winced at the description of Mr Brown’s administration as ‘communist,’ ‘blimey,’ he thought to himself, ‘most of the tribe I grew up with don’t even consider them as labourites.’

‘Tony,’ she tried in a more reasoned tone, ‘I like having my own way, sort this out for me darling, I know that you can.’

‘Darling’ he thought, here we go again. Tony Parker owned the most successful casino in Essex. He was 38, handsome and had bedded some of the best looking women across the continent. He had known Sandra for five years and hadn’t even seen her naked. Whether it was this fact, or that she was luxuriously beautiful, to the point of impossibility, he wasn’t sure, all he knew was his desire for her turned him into a mindless, malleable, puppet, existing only to please her.

‘Look, angel,’ he tried, ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Sandra took a deep drag of her cigarette cockily leant her head back and blew a long stream of blue/grey smoke towards the ceiling. She knew she had him within the palm of her silky soft hand. She stubbed out her cigarette in the provided ashtray, took a long swig of her drink and stood to leave.

‘I expect to hear from you by Monday,’ she husked, and with a wink she paraded majestically towards the door. At the exit she threw a superior look towards Elsie, who despite herself forgot any resentment and stretched to hold open the door for ‘her better.’ Without any thanks Sandra glided through this door and the external one held by the doorman ‘Johnny.’ Then into her awaiting Mercedes where her chauffer Paul stood bowing with the door held open. ‘Home1’ she ordered as she lit another cigarette smiling to herself.

Back in the club Tony had called Johnny in, ‘get hold of Big Alan and…er..Alf!’ he ordered, ‘and tell 'em to bring the book of debtors. Oh and tell Elsie and Carol they can get on with their cleaning now.’


Stewart Harris didn’t exactly enter Tony Parker’s office; he was thrown into it by Alf Bishop. ‘Have a seat Mr. Harris,’ Tony almost snarled. Stewart, badly shaken, struggled to gather himself into the large leather chair facing Tony’s. ‘Now then Mr. Harris, I’ve been going through my books an’ I’ve found that you’re into me for twelve and a half large. What d’you say to that!’ Stewart had never seen Parker’s aggressive side before and it frightened him. He thought he only owed about ten thousand, but he wasn’t about to argue especially with the two huge men standing behind him.

‘I’ll pay you back Mr. Parker honest I will.’
‘Oh yeah, what with you useless nonce!!’ Tony shouted. He ignored Stewart’s stammerings and carried on in a more level tone, ‘how’s that pretty little wife of your’n Stew?’

‘She’s okay Mr Parker, please Mr Parker don’t do anything to hurt her!’

‘Well of course I wouldn’t,’ Tony smiled ‘these two on the other ‘and,’ with which he nodded his head at Alf and Alan. ‘Look, I’ll give you options, I always like to give a man options.’

‘Yes Mr Parker,’ offered Stewart, sweating like a pig and shaking like a leaf.

‘Option one, you can pay me all your gambling debts NOW!’ Stewart trembled. ‘Option two, my boys take you outside the back way and you all ‘ave a bit of midnight exercise,’ he smiled malevontly. ‘Or,’ Stewart looked up hopefully; anything just had to be better than the first two. He had no money to give, as a hopeless and addicted gambler he was stone broke. And he knew what Parker’s thugs were capable of. In the past, some of the victims of their thuggery had been foolish enough to go to the police. Parker’s
connections with the law had got word to him, and low and behold these complainants were never seen or heard from again.

‘Or what Mr. Parker??’

‘Or you do me a favour. Only take four days and I’ll write off your debt.’

‘Oh yes Mr Parker, thanks Mr Parker, you won’t regret it Mr Parker.’

‘Hold on lad, you ain’t even ‘eard what the fuckin’ favour is yet! You soppy cunt!’

Stewart was in tears ‘anything Mr Parker, anything.’ Tony proceeded to tell him of what he would have to do. Stewart’s mouth hung open in incredulation as his creditor explained he would, with others be escorting two young ladies to Las Vegas, completely and utterly as their slaves. He would have to obey their every command, work for them, serve them, perhaps even be whipped for or by them.

‘For four days and four nights they will own you, just as sure as I own that chair you’re sitting on.’ Stewart tried to collect his thoughts. Vegas sounded great; he’d always wanted to go. Serving a couple of Tony Parker’s Lady friends didn’t sound so bad; they were bound to be a bit tasty. Slave though, and worst of all subject to whippings!

‘A-about these whippings Mr Park…..’ before he had had the chance to finish Big Alan had kicked his chair from under him, ruining the chair and nearly doing the same to Stewart. ‘I’ll do it, I’ll do it!!’ he sobbed.

‘Good boy, I knew you’d see sense. Alf fetch Mr Harris a large scotch would you?

‘Yes Tone’ grunted the ex-heavyweight boxer.

‘Now,’ mused Tony reaching for his ‘debtor’s book’ ‘whose next?’ Over the next couple of nights Tony met with all of the casino’s heavy debtors. Some he had dismissed as not suitable, some he didn’t feel were vulnerable enough and one even point blank refused, so Alan and Alf got their bit of midnight exercise after all. This left four, all male, all far too scared to even consider running away either in England or Vegas.

Now I’ll phone the lovely Vicky, he thought to himself, surely this will please her enough………

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