Leaving Las Vegas
This is so exciting!" Jo squealed. "My first high-stakes poker game! I can't wait."
"Here's your stake," I said, stuffing a thick wad of bills into her black leather purse. "Ten thousand. I'll take half of whatever you win." "What if I lose?" she asked with feigned naivete.
"Then you owe me ten thousand dollars."
She nuzzled up next to me. She was dressed for a night on the Strip: black leather shorts, very tight, with a translucent black mesh top and no bra. A short, black leather jacket covered her big, pink nipples--barely--and kept her within the minimal Vegas decency standards. Her breasts were hot and hard with need beneath the black mesh. She gazed up at me with wide-eyed faux innocence and batted her lashes bashfully. "Do you think I might be able to work off the debt somehow?" I smiled. "Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money."
"I'm a hard worker," she said breathlessly.
"The lady has jacks and eights." Jo turned eagerly towards her opponent.
"I'm very sorry, Miss Guest," he said. He wore an extremely expensive grey suit and spoke perfect English with a crisp Egyptian accent. "I have three tens." He reached out to collect his winnings.
"Rats!" Jo fumed. "That was the last of my money. I'm broke already! I guess I'll have to drop out of the game."
"That would be a great shame," the Egyptian said.
"Sure would," drawled the Texas oil baron who completed our foursome.
Jo shrugged; her mostly-naked breasts moved enticingly beneath her jacket. "Well, I can't play anymore. I don't have anything left to bet."
"A beautiful woman always has something to bet," the Egyptian remarked smoothly.
Jo's eyes grew wide. "Are you serious?"
"Absolutely. You possess a very valuable commodity: your lovely young body. I would be willing to bet, say, ten thousand dollars against the use of your body. Would you gentlemen agree?"
"Hell, yes!" the Texan agreed. The money was nothing to him, and he had been looking at Jo all night. She had an irresistible body.
I shrugged. I could have Jo for free, but I didn't need the money either--and it would be fun to take her in front of these guys if I won. I could make her work off her debt right here. I liked the thought of making Jo a whore. Her body language told me that she liked the idea too.
"I propose that Miss Guest deals each of us a blackjack hand," the Egyptian suggested. "She will receive ten thousand dollars from each man whose hand she beats, and she agrees to make love to any man whose hand beats hers. Is that acceptable, Miss Guest?" Jo nodded eagerly; he handed her the cards.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," Jo said as she dealt the down cards. "I feel like such a slut..." She dealt me a ten; I looked under it and found another just like it. I tried not to smile. The Egyptian drew a seven; the Texan pulled a six. Appropriately enough, Jo showed the queen of hearts.
I waved her off; the Egyptian drew a two and held there. The Texan took a five. Jo swallowed hard. "OK, here goes!" She peeled a card off the top of the deck, flipped it over. Her face fell as she saw the seven. "Oh, God! I busted!" She showed her down card, a five.
"That's a tough hand, sweetheart," I consoled her. "You did the right thing. You have to hit on fifteen." I showed my twenty. The Egyptian had nineteen, the Texan twenty-one.
"Oh, God," she whispered. "I have to do all three of you!" She gulped, laid her cards down on the table. "Well, OK. Who's first?"
The Egyptian indicated me. "You should have the honor, sir. She is your woman, after all."
"Thanks," I said. "Don't mind if I do."
Jo stood up and slid out of her jacket. One look at her firm, pouting breasts made me instantly hard. She unzipped her shorts and squeezed her body out of them. Jo wore no underwear; she doesn't believe in it. A small tuft of dark pubic hair adorned her cunt, which is, I must say, one of the nicest I have ever seen: sleek and tight and very fuckable. Not bothering to remove her mesh top, she eased her ass down onto the green felt card table. She leaned back on top of the cards and cash, spread her legs wide. "Come and get it," she purred.
I did.
Fucking her in front of the other two men was great. I could feel how turned on they were as they waited for their turns. Jo came twice as I fucked her, and she was still going strong when I blew my load and handed her over to the cowboy. He was in her almost before I was out, pounding hard, riding her like a bucking bronco. I half expected him to take off his cowboy hat and wave it in the air, but he didn't.
The Egyptian went last, fucking her in a calm, quiet, almost indifferent way. He lasted forever. Jo didn't mind. She's a fucking machine; she can go all night, fix you breakfast and go all day too.
"Oh, Jesus," she gasped when the Egyptian finally pulled out of her. Semen dribbled out of her exhausted twat to pool on the green felt beneath her ass. "That was incredible, but I don't think I could do it again...I guess I really am done for the night, now."
"There is still one more thing you could bet, of course," the Egyptian pointed out.
"What's that?" Jo gasped.
"Your life," he said calmly.
Jo's sweet brown eyes got wider than ever. "What?"
"I would be prepared to wager half a million against your life. You deal me a blackjack hand, and deal one for yourself. If you win, I will pay you five hundred thousand dollars. If I win, you will permit me to kill you."
"Hell, I'll back that action," the Texan said enthusiastically. "If you want to play the Egyptian, little lady, I'll match his half mil."
Jo glanced at me. I didn't much want to bet on this one. If Jo lost, I would be out one hot girlfriend who really knew how to fuck. If she won, I was out half a million, a sizable chunk of change. The problem was that if she DID lose, I was going to want to watch her die. And it wouldn't really be right for me to enjoy the show if I hadn't put some money on the game. I didn't want to look bad in front of the Egyptian and the cowboy. I nodded slowly.
"A million and a half," Jo whispered. "That's a lot of money. I'd be rich..."
"Or dead," I pointed out. "Just as likely."
"That doesn't bother me," Jo said firmly, and I knew it was true. "Death is sexy. Some deaths are REALLY sexy. If I do lose, how will you do me?"
"Do you have a preference?" the Egyptian asked solicitously.
"I'd like to be hanged," Jo decided. She closed her eyes. "Yes. Hang me. I love to feel the hemp against my throat, the sweet tightness as it squeezes my windpipe shut...I've always wanted to die that way."
"I've got some rope," the Texan said, reaching for his briefcase.
"Hey, cowboy, I haven't lost yet," Jo protested.
"Sure, but we should get you ready, just in case. So you can't change your mind, if you do lose."
"I won't change my mind," Jo insisted. "I win either way: a million and a half, or I get to live out a fantasy I've had since puberty."
"Let him noose you up, Jo," I said. "I mean, you have to give these guys something to show that you're serious."
"All right." Jo rose from the table and pulled her mesh top over her head. She stood naked, ready. "Where do you want me?"
"Why don't you stand up on your chair, little lady?" The Texan tied a quick but very serviceable noose; he had apparently done this before.
Jo mounted the chair. The Texan stood on the card table, threw the noose over a ceiling beam, slipped it over her head. She closed her eyes as the rope grew tight at her throat; her pink nipples showed maximum arousal. Jo was in the place she loved best: a world of dark fantasy, in which a woman's life could be snuffed as casually as one might swat a fly.
The Texan pulled the noose line taut, tied it to the beam. "Should I tie her hands behind her back?" he asked as he stepped off the table.
"No," the Egyptian decided. "You've tied a good noose; she won't be able to escape it. Let her fight. It will be enjoyable to watch."
"All right, girl," the Texan drawled. "Play your hand. If you lose, I'll kick that chair out from under you. Good luck."
"I'll deal." I picked up the cards, shuffled them thoroughly. I dealt the down cards, then a nine for Jo and an ace for the Egyptian.
I showed Jo her down card. "I'll stay," she said. The Egyptian waved me off. I revealed Jo's card: the queen of spades. "Nineteen?" she said hopefully.
"I'm sorry, my dear." The Egyptian turned over a ten. "Blackjack."
"Yee-haw!" The Texan howled. His silver-tipped leather boot smashed into the chair, sending it flying. Jo's supple body went taut as the noose took her full weight.
Watching Jo hang to death was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. Her hands flew instinctively to her throat, but the Egyptian was right: there was nothing she could do. She forced her fingers under the rope, perhaps loosening it slightly. But all she could achieve that way was a slight increase in the duration of her hanging, which was just fine with us. I swear, there's nothing better than a gorgeous blonde swinging in the air, her hands tugging desperately at the rope which is slowly killing her.
Jo's body moved as it had been born to move. It was the ultimate strip tease, the perfect Vegas sex show. Thin and lean, she dangled and kicked and danced. Her round naked breasts bounced, so firm, so feminine. Her long legs stretched towards the floor; her feet kicked weakly. Her lips were slightly parted; drool ran over her chin and down onto her tits. Her sassy blonde bob framed a face full of pain and desire.
There were tears on Jo's cheeks. For a moment I was afraid she had changed her mind. I mean, sure, she loved fantasy hanging--but this was for real. She was going to die up there. Could she really go through with it? And what if she DID want down--could I take her down? Should I? She had made a bet, after all, and she had lost. She should pay up. But I did care for her...if she really wanted to live, could I really just stand there and watch her die?
Jo solved the dilemma for me. Her right hand stayed at the noose, her fingers under it, trying to pull it away from her throat. But her left hand made its way down her body, pinching and squeezing her erect left nipple first, then moving further down, over her taut belly, to her sleek and perfect twat. She began to play with herself. I had seen her do it many times before, and I knew it was genuine. This show wasn't for us, or at least not only for us. Jo was pressing serious pleasure into herself. She used her index finger to rub her clit in that circular motion that chicks love so much. Then the same finger went up into her. I stared at her, amazed, as she finger-fucked herself. I had never seen anything like it.
Jo gurgled as she came, and kept right on rubbing. Her other hand fell now, joining its partner. She now had the first two fingers of her left hand inside herself, and she was using her other hand to stimulate her clit. Of course, the noose was tighter now, but she didn't seem to mind. It added a certain urgency, a certain excitement to her masturbation.
Jo came twice more, in quick succession. She had always been multi-orgasmic, but I had never seen her like this. She was out of control, a climax machine. Her body had been reduced to the pure essence of female pleasure. She twitched in a way which said that the hanging had gone well beyond safe nooseplay. Jo was in no-woman's land now.
She kept playing with herself right up to the end. Her naked body convulsed beautifully, her breasts quivering. Spasms rippled through her thighs, her legs. She twisted erotically in the noose, dancing with the very last of her energy. She tilted her head to the side, let her tongue roll out. Her eyes were full of, well, everything. I saw her come one last time. Her face tried to tell me what it was like, but I knew it was beyond description, beyond communication. I found that I was actually jealous of her.
Jo twitched twice. Her hands fell to her sides, limp, lifeless. Her bladder released, spilling warm piss all over the floor. A death rattle tore its way out of her throat. And she was gone.
The Egyptian picked up the cards. "So, what's the game?"
