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This chapter is a bit longer; I’d originally stopped in one place but it left the chapter very short. There is a decent amount of action in this one but more character/plot development, particularly in the later part of the chapter. Hopefully it’s still enough to keep people interested.
As usual, I want to thank everyone for the ratings and especially the comments.
Chip Key: Nickname: value, favor, color
Clouds: 1, Touching, White
Canaries: 2, Kissing, Yellow
Lipstick: 5, Oral, Red
Skies: 10, Sex, Blue
Grass: 25, Anal, Green
Doubles/Oranges: 50, Double, Orange
Fucked: 100, Forefit, Black
Cyn smiled to herself as she wandered into the room that, were the house an actual functioning household, would be called a study. As it was, rather than a desk and bookshelves with a comfortable leather executive chair, it merely featured large windows with a couple of easy chairs, ottomans and a chaise lounge. Settled in the chair, legs resting on one of the ottomans, and his face glowing blue from the tablet propped up on his knees, was Cyn’s target.
She’d ditched her pumps and let the nylons and plush carpet tease her feet and quiet her approach as she walked up. She didn’t have to worry; her quarry was far too engrossed in whatever was on the screen. The glow revealed he had noise-cancelling headphones on, so he wasn’t reading, which was odd for him. Rather than approach immediately, Cyn swung around on a wide approach.
She had to stifle a giggle when she saw the screen. A porn movie, or possibly just a scene, was playing on it. The male performer in question had a doting female performer worshipping his shaved cock. The performer in question had breasts at least as big as Cyn’s, with matching or at least similar blonde hair. They were still in the teasing phase of the video where fake kisses and pawing hands would explore their respective bodies in preparation for the real action. A wicked idea popped into Cyn’s head and sent a thrill from her spine to her snatch.
She approached the chair from the side, out of Steve’s sight. He was a scrawny guy, but not athletic; whatever was keeping him thin had to do with genetics more than anything else. He always appeared awkward and shy, particularly around girls, most of whom he could barely hold a conversation with. However Cyn bet there was more than one girl that had contributed to that for reasons she was about to explore.
She reached the chair and ran a hand down Steve’s arm. The contact startled him badly and he nearly sent the tablet flying when he jerked in panic, but Cyn had anticipated that and grabbed for the tablet at the same time she touched his arm.
“I…uh…that-” Steve stammered, but Cyn put a finger on his lips to quiet him and used gentle pressure to get him sitting back in the chair. She placed the tablet on his chest and pulled out the headphone wire, letting the sounds of the porno come through the tablet’s tinny speakers. The female was topless now and her micro-mini had become a belt, displaying the girl’s neon thong. The male was in the middle of worshipping her mammaries while she gripped his cock through his shorts.
Cyn guided Steve’s hands to hold the tablet and pointed to the screen, indicating Steve should keep watching, then practically forced him to split his attention as she doffed her red sport coat, beneath which she had nothing on. Her impressive breasts came into view with barely a jiggle, the nipples already pointing and practically begging for attention. Steve’s head and eyes snapped back and forth from the video to Cyn as she walked around and shifted the Ottoman, then straddled his legs. She deftly and quickly stripped his shorts and boxers down to his knees, revealing the real reason for his timidity with women.
Steve’s cock was already over 8 inches long and growing fast from the stimulation of the video and Cyn. Fully grown, Cyn knew, it stood at about 10 inches, with a girth that didn’t so much fuck a vagina as give it a primer for childbirth. Cyn not only wasn’t intimidated by the organ, she practically worshipped it, and she was one of the only girls at the spa that did so willingly.
Tonight, however, she wouldn’t be mounting the massive rod. Instead she put her mouth to work around its head, lapping up the precum already coating the spongy point and continuing to leak from the slit. Based on the sounds coming from the tablet, the girl there was in the middle of a similar exercise. Cyn paused in her attentions on the head to lick up and down the veiny shaft, paying special attention to the large vessel at the bottom and the magic spot where it met the slit and the head, sending shudders up the body of its owner. At the same time, she slipped a bottle of lube out of her pocket and got a copious amount into one of her hands.
As her mouth returned to the head, she started lubing up the shaft of his cock and had her hands join in with the stimulation her mouth was bahis firmaları already providing. On her best day she could only get maybe a quarter of the dick in her mouth so she didn’t bother trying, she had something else in mind. Steve apparently hadn’t had much attention lately either; he was giving off clear signs of an orgasm coming up fast. Cyn leaned forward so her head was just above the screen and Steve looked at her with almost dumbfounded eyes.
“Fucking in that?” she asked. Steve nodded. “What about anal?” Cyn said teasingly. Steve again nodded. “Fast forward to that part,” she told him, “make sure to start when he puts it in her.”
Cyn quickly shuffled back and situated herself, rubbing her hands. When she heard the telltale moan of a porn star taking a dick up the ass, she pressed her breasts together and forced the cleavage down over Steve’s cock.
That was enough for the poor boy and the tablet dropped as he grunted and gripped the arms of the chair like he was fighting gravity. Cyn felt his massive tool throb and the slit, just barely poking out at the top of the cleavage, fired cum up at her face and all over her breasts. As a treat for him, after three pulses she put her mouth on it and sucked out the last bit of his cum. She pulled away when he started shuddering from post-orgasm sensitivity and settled back on his shins.
She waited a minute and gave him a chance to enjoy her moonlit, cum covered chest before dismounting and grabbing her coat. As she put the lube back in her pocket, she pulled out the five red chips someone had cashed in with the banker earlier that day, and placed them in his hand. Then she leaned forward, letting her breasts settle gently on his shoulder, and whispered to him.
“Imagine what might happen if you lost your green chips.”
Vicky walked back into her dorm room in a bit of a daze. Despite only having been gone for two days it felt like a long time since she’d been back to the room. She fell onto her bed and grabbed her body pillow, snuggling into it like a comforting pet.
She’d only had to pay a single red chip to sit out of the Saturday night game, but that meant a total of twenty-five of her chips were now completely beyond her control. She’d been careful to mix denominations so even if one person ended up with all of her chips the most they could immediately ask for was some kissing with hands in play, and doing so would delay their ability to get anything better, but Cyn had been right on Friday; if Vicky was going to return to the spa, she had to come to terms with either having sex or getting a lot better at acquiring chips so she could trade whomever asked for a favor or pay off the penalty.
Despite the precarious position it put her in, she’d seen that the warnings from basically everyone about avoiding the Saturday night game were well founded. She’d watched dumbstruck as the players around the table freely threw around enough chips to guarantee a quarter hour of attention, and most hands ended up with a pot that, in total, opened the possibility of anal attention. In reality Vicky doubted any one person’s set of green chips made up a pot, but she was certain several eventual sessions of regular sex resulted from the outcome of the hands.
In addition to the pot sizes, the players themselves were intimidating from Vicky’s perspective. Reading Charles was like an elementary school primer, and Vicky had a decent read on Noelle most of the time as well (including several speculative and borderline lusty glances the Asian sent her way). But the rest of the table was scary. Robin was unpredictable; Vicky could figure out what attitude Robin had at any given moment but a hand later it would completely change. Syl suddenly turned into a coldly logical analyzer of the table, and Ammad wasn’t far behind. Vicky found herself having to rely on glances at their eyes and fingers to gauge their feelings, and Vincent might as well have been a statue with no human emotion to speak of. Zach and Amy also sat at the table but Vicky could tell they weren’t players, they were victims. She’d asked Cyn about it after the game.
“Amy doesn’t care who has her chips, just as long as they spend them,” Cyn said, “Zach has the benefit of not worrying about favors most of the time since he’s securely on the gay side of the fence. He never asks Vincent and all the rest of the guys want no part of him sexually, nor does he force the issue with them. He’ll accept a blowjob if a girl wants to give him one, and rumor has it if a ladyl wants him in their ass he’ll oblige, but for most of the people at that table it’s still too early for that.”
“There was more than enough money flying around,” Vicky said.
“Everyone sitting there, well except Amy, keeps track of their chips just as much as their cards. They know exactly how to split a bet between their chips and other people’s so they can lay down a lot of numbers without putting their body on the line as much as you’d think. There’s kaçak iddaa also a bit of the sunk cost fallacy going on with most of them.”
“The what?” Vicky asked.
“It’s a math thing, sort of” Cyn replied, “And this doesn’t fit perfectly but it’s close enough. I’ll pick Charles because he’s so obvious about it. If he won a couple of good hands he probably walked away with, say, a full set of skies from Noelle. Ten minutes to stick his dick in her, and we both know he’d jump at that chance. But then again, she’s a purist. Why settle for ten when you can get twenty by pulling in another hundred? But Noelle’s betting her chips careful, so if he does win again, maybe he only gets five more blue chips. On the other hand now he’s got a couple of greens. And if he changes up his blues with me, now he’s got even more green chips from Noelle. And her blue chips go back into antes, which other people will bet more freely than she would. So he won’t have to play against her as much, but if he wins enough…”
“Yeah, I see where you’re going,” Vicky said, “He spends all his time chasing that ass, literally, and never actually cashes in anything. Probably blows his chance of ever getting it in the process.”
“In reality Charles isn’t that patient,” Cyn told her, “If he didn’t drag someone off into a room as soon as I called the game I’ll give you a lipstick chip. But a lot of the people at that table don’t trade many favors. They’d rather have a huge stack of chips without their name on them to throw into the pot.”
Despite that, Vicky had seen a lot of pairings wandering off to find a bedroom they wouldn’t be using alone. Sex was cheap, though, based on the chips; you only needed to win 100 chips to get some sexy time with another person, you had to rake in 625 before anal was on the menu. 100 chips either way wouldn’t matter much at the night game.
Vicky simply lay on her bed, letting numbers and chip colors and the various people she’d met over the past two days tumble around in her head, all the while staring at the luggage she hadn’t really unpacked.
* * * * *
Cyn practically fell into the white leather recliner in the living room of her and her roommates’ apartment. “Why do I think it’s a good idea to walk around all weekend in heels?”
“Because you like to look like a boss bitch and you’re only five-six,” Robin shot back.
“It works for her though,” Syl said, “most of the time at least.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to know someone appreciates the realities of my position,” Cyn said.
Robin, who had ducked into the bathroom, came back out in a sheer robe that served basically no purpose except titillation, and had her gold and diamond choker on. “Did Mistress say something about positions?” she asked.
Cyn was mildly surprised that Robin wanted to jump into playing right after getting back, but she didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Robin, mistress needs her feet rubbed. Make sure to use your chest.”
Robin got on the floor in front of the chair and arranged herself so she could rub Cyn’s feet without Cyn lifting her legs. Also, whatever foot Robin wasn’t rubbing rested on a breast like a gel cushion. Cyn used a little bit of pressure and toe manipulation to play with Robin’s breast as well.
“Your girl is making waves faster than you did,” Syl commented.
“My girl?” Cyn challenged, “I seem to remember you’re the one that invited her. And I didn’t see her cleaning up at the tables. She didn’t even play Friday night.”
“No, but she got enough of Noelle’s chips to cash in a favor. Noelle wasn’t exactly bragging about her, but she let slip that Vicky surprised her, and she sounded impressed when she said it.”
Cyn sat back and considered that for a bit. “Still doesn’t mean she’s going to stick around.”
“God, Cyn, do you want her to leave?” Syl asked, exasperated.
“Of course not, but I want her to be happy. If she’s not happy here I don’t want to keep dragging her back.”
“We can’t force her to do anything,” Syl argued.
“No but we can certainly exert a good amount of peer pressure,” Cyn replied.
“Well I’m not going to be talking to her about the spa unless she asks,” Syl reassured Cyn, “But right now I’m going to have a nap.”
“Oh?” Cyn teased, “And who kept you up last night?”
“Where do you think I heard what Noelle was saying?” Syl teased back.
Cyn sat back and enjoyed her foot rub for a bit, then beckoned Robin into a sitting position. “How many people were you with this weekend, Robin?”
“Two Mistress,” Robin replied.
“And was I one of them?”
“How many orgasms did you have this weekend, Robin?”
“Um…” Robin gulped, seeming nervous. Cyn knew she actually was slightly nervous; after each spa weekend Cyn made a point of bringing up favors Robin had traded, but sometimes she only teased Robin about them while other times she inflicted actual punishments.
“How many?” Cyn pressed.
“Eight, Mistress,” Robin admitted.
Cyn kaçak bahis slid forward in her chair and spread her legs, “Then I expect at least that many from you before I sleep tonight.”
Robin practically dove between Cyn’s legs and she immediately felt suction on her pussy and Robin’s tongue going to work on her clit. After almost a year, Robin knew exactly how to get Cyn off and this was one of the few times Cyn decided to just let it happen. She hadn’t had anyone to pair up with all weekend; the Saturday night stint with Steve had only gotten her even more keyed up. By the time Robin slid a finger into Cyn’s snatch, Cyn was completely primed and went off immediately, bucking against Robin’s face as she held her lover’s head in place. Robin kept licking, but focused on Cyn’s pussy lips, leaving her oversensitized clit alone.
Cyn pulled her lover’s head up and kissed her ferociously, savoring the feel of Robin’s tongue and the mixture of vanilla lip gloss and the taste of her own pussy.
“Let’s go to the bedroom, Robin,” Cyn said after she pulled away, “I think you’ll need some help if you’re going to get me off another seven times.”
Robin let out a lustful moan and said, “yes Mistress.”
Vicky sat at her computer, staring at the inbox of her email. It was a message from her father, asking about the club authorization he’d received. Apparently the letter Vincent’s contacts generated had arrived, asking for authorization to have 2 million dollars put in escrow for her club participation. Like so many situations in Veretrum, she was being forced to pay more up front than her more established “peers.” They only had to worry about money withdrawn if they stepped out of line. She was being forced to give the money up front, and she only got it back with good behavior.
She’d almost made up her mind. She enjoyed sex; she’d certainly been missing it since she broke up with Lawrence. She was pretty and articulate enough to have some prospects on campus, but all of them saw her as a side piece; something to tide them over until an “acceptable” mate happened along, like her ex did. The spa was a better option; no strings attached by definition, and she was at least nominally someone people would compete over. But unlike most of the student body, she could also go into the city and find a bedmate without worrying. She’d been to real bars, she’d seen gangbangers, she’d been to uncontrolled raves where you had to abandon any drink you didn’t take from the bartender yourself, and she hadn’t had a panic button to push if she started feeling woozy.
But still, there were some powerful, powerful connections there that went beyond who you could sleep with. She’d spent the days since Sunday doing some digging. The spa-goers didn’t try to hide their identities, so cross-referencing the names she’d heard with the student registry, then hopping on the internet, gave her a sense of who exactly she’d been playing cards with.
Vincent’s influence was most talked about and obvious, and he was in another league compared to most of the people in the spa, but Charles’s new friend Ammad might give him a run for his money; he was related to Saudi royalty. Not enough to be one of those kids that wrecks his gold Lamborghini because his parents didn’t buy him a Ferrari instead, but certainly someone that had access to a lot of money and connections. Syl, the woman who’d convinced her to attend, was Sylvia Tentis of the Tentis family, who had direct or indirect connections to most of the US West coast energy market, otherwise known as all those oil drills California hid behind building facades so they didn’t look like Texas. Poor, pitiable Amy was the fourth child (probably neglected) of a family that handled most of the US titanium market and probably had direct lines to every airline manufacturing CEO in the world. The nervous guy, Steve, was direct heir to a family that had copyrights or patents on half of the devices going into solar energy technologies. The most widely used photovoltaic cell on the market at the moment had been designed by his father, who regularly met with people at the pentagon over issues of space satellite and station power needs, a job he’d inherited from his father, who’d had meals with every Apollo astronaut, before and after. Cyn and Robin were actually at the lower end of the scale, Vicky was surprised to learn; Robin’s mother was successful in the fashion world but had few ties beyond that, and Cyn’s family was pure old money; whatever gave them their fortune had happened literally over a hundred years ago, and the family had simply invested and grown their wealth since then, basically living a ridiculously lavish lifestyle off of the interest they earned, as well as the occasional speculative investment.
Vicky wanted to make a connection with some of these people. She wanted their respect. She was in this world now. Back home, after the news her father’s company sold, she’d tried to act normal around her friends for a while, but all it had taken was the soccer team planning a lavish end of season celebration at a suite in one of the ritziest hotels in the city. All of them, to a person, turned to her and expected her to foot the bill.
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