Roll of The Dice

Erin looked around the room and tutted, then patted Vanessa condescendingly on the shoulder. "I'll be back in a second," she said. "Don't you go anywhere." She chuckled at her own joke as she left Vanessa alone in the kitchen.

Panic began to set in, cold and sharp. She had no idea what this woman would do next. Then, a fleeting thought surfaced in the back of her mind: Is this what Jack felt? Was this the helplessness, the terror, the utter loss of control? Any flicker of sympathy she might have felt for him in that moment instantly evaporated as Erin walked back into the room, a pair of scissors glinting in her hand.

"Now, let's see what we have here," she said, grabbing a handful of Vanessa's hair and starting to cut it with scissors.

Vanessa's mind flashed to the pile of ginger hair she'd seen on the lounge floor next to Jack's rubberized head. A loud sob shook her body. She slumped in her bonds as Erin sheared away bunches of her hair in uneven, brutal clumps, falling around her feet. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the pool of drool on the chair seat.

Erin started whistling a cheerful, tuneless melody as she worked, the sound sending chills through Vanessa's broken soul. She grabbed Vanessa's chin and yanked her head up, forcing it at an awkward angle to reach the remaining strands. Finally, the snipping stopped. Erin set the scissors on the table and stepped back to admire her work.

"Look up, bitch," she commanded.

Vanessa slowly raised her head, her face a mess of tears and snot.

Erin clapped her gloved hands with excitement. "Just wonderful," she said. She took Vanessa's chin, leaned in, and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips. Her tongue then entered Vanessa's mouth, a last, possessive act. She pulled back, her expression softening slightly as she brushed a tear from Vanessa's cheek with her gloved thumb.

She hugged Vanessa's head tightly against her large, soft breasts, stroking the uneven, stubbled scalp. "There, there, don't be sad," Erin whispered, her voice a venomous parody of comfort. "After all, you're making me very excited."

She pressed a large, pointed nipple against Vanessa's lips and pulled down on her chin, a clear, unspoken command. Vanessa, defeated, opened her mouth and sucked the nipple in, eliciting a deep sigh of satisfaction from Erin. In response, Erin reached down and roughly tweaked one of Vanessa's own nipples. There was no pleasure in the gesture, only a fresh jolt of pain and humiliation.

Erin pulled away, her nipple leaving Vanessa's mouth with a soft plop. "You sexy little slut," she purred. "You've made me so fucking horny."

She stepped back, grabbed a chair, and positioned it directly facing Vanessa. She lifted her legs, placing a booted foot on each of Vanessa's thighs and pushing down forcefully with her heels. The plastic zip ties around Vanessa's ankles cut deep as her legs were forced to stretch painfully. Erin leaned forward in her chair, her gloved hand moving between her own legs to stroke her soaked pussy as she watched Vanessa suffer.

With one hand stroking her lips and the other massaging and pinching her own nipple, Erin's eyes fixed on Vanessa, studying her broken, pathetic state. The sight sent shivers of pleasure through her. Her gloved fingers pressed deeper, exploring her dampness with growing intensity. Vanessa grunted in discomfort as Erin's legs pressed harder against her thighs, the pressure building with each stroke and pinch.

Their eyes stayed fixed until Erin's eyelids fluttered shut, her body tensing as four fingers sank deep inside her. A scream of pure pleasure tore from her throat, echoing throughout the room. "Fuck yeah," she shouted, her body stiffening, her heels pressing painfully into Vanessa's thighs.

Erin lay there, every part of her throbbing with post-orgasmic pleasure. Her breath came in short, uneven gasps. "Fuck, that was good," she murmured to no one in particular, a satisfied smile spreading across her lips.

With a groan, she sat up, slowly lifting her legs off Vanessa's thighs, leaving two clear, angry bruises behind.

Erin rose from her chair, movements slow and unhurried, as if she had all the time in the world. She began to walk around the kitchen, her eyes scanning the counters and tables. She started picking up items, her fingers lingering on each one before carefully placing them into her bag. The prototype restraints were next, their components dismantled and stored away in their designated slots within the plastic case. With a click, the case was sealed and tucked into her bag.

Then,to Vanessa's surprise, Erin moved to the kettle, filling it with water and switching it on. She rinsed a cup, placing it next to the kettle with a fresh tea bag. The routine, domestic act was jarring in contrast to the chaos and humiliation Vanessa had just endured.

Erin rummaged around the kitchen a bit more, and then Vanessa heard the tap running. A moment later, a glass of tap water with a straw was offered to Vanessa's bowed head. "Drink it, bitch. You won't get another offer," Erin commanded, her voice sharp and unwavering.

Thirsty and desperate, Vanessa accepted the straw, drawing the cool water into her parched mouth, the simple act of hydration a brief, cruel respite in her ongoing torment.

The kettle clicked off, signaling that the water had boiled. Erin made her tea, the familiar ritual calming and centering her. She sat back in the chair opposite Vanessa, cradling the steaming cup in her gloved hands. Taking a slow sip, she sighed contentedly, her eyes never leaving Vanessa's contorted form.

Erin was naked except for her tall riding boots and leather gloves, her body on display without a hint of self-consciousness. She was in command, and she knew it. The last person to tell her how to dress or act was the owner of the first business she had taken over—a small antique store run by a pompous ass who fancied himself the Arthur Negus of Rochester, despite his shop being a dump on the banks between Rochester and Chatham. In reality, he was more like Arthur Daily, constantly ducking and diving to avoid responsibility.

Erin was just sixteen at the time, a bit overweight but comfortable in her own skin. The old man used to pinch her butt as she walked by or give her a light tap, thinking he could get away with it because she needed the money. She endured it, she needed the money.

Over time, Erin's role at the antique store expanded, and she was eventually given access to the owner's books. One lunch break, when he was out on an extended "business" lunch at the pub, she discovered how he kept the shop afloat. He was involved in money laundering for a local crook, a family known for owning boxing gyms and scrap yards around the Medway towns.

That's when she found the hidden ledgers, the ones that showed he was skimming off the top from the crooks. She made copies, her mind already racing with possibilities. A week later, she walked into a boxing gym in Chatham. Bob Lord, the family patriarch, was there, talking to one of the boxers in the corner.

"Yeah, what do you want, girlie?" he asked, his voice gruff and unyielding.

"Oh, Mr. Lord, I've got information you might be interested in," she replied, her voice steady and confident.

They went to his office, and she laid it all out for him—how her boss had been screwing them over, skimming money and stashing it away for himself. Bob Lord listened intently, his expression unreadable.

"So, what do you want for this info?" he finally asked.

They struck a deal: Erin would take over the shop, and Bob Lord would give her a no-interest loan for six months. If she couldn't pay it back, she would work for him. When he asked why he shouldn't just get rid of her now, she smiled and told him she had secreted away her copy of the records and some incriminating recordings her boss had made. She made it clear that if anything happened to her, those records would find their way to the police.

Bob Lord laughed, a deep, rumbling sound, and shook her hand. And just like that, Erin's career began.

When Bob Lord was ready to get rid of her boss, he took him to a secluded lock-up under the railway arches by the river. Erin requested an hour alone with him, asking that he be naked and securely restrained. Lord agreed, handing her the key to the lock-up.

As Erin entered, she saw her boss with a chain around his neck, his naked body trembling, his hands tied behind his back. The sight was almost too much for her; she had always harbored certain desires, but this was beyond her wildest fantasies. She had an architect's drawing tube slung over her shoulder. She set it down, popped the top, and withdrew a thin bamboo cane.

An hour later, when Lord's men entered the lock-up, they found a sweating Erin handing them the key. She stepped out, leaving behind a broken and beaten man, his spirit shattered, ready to face whatever fate awaited him.

Erin made her final payment to Bob Lord on time, and the antique business became hers, thriving and profitable. She continued to work closely with the Lord family, becoming a trusted and valued friend. As her business grew, it diversified into real estate, and when DVDs took off, she was quick to capitalize, owning stores across Kent. Her business sense allowed her to predict the industry's decline, and she exited without losing a penny.

The Lord family's businesses began to decline, but Erin managed to secure enough funds to keep them afloat and prosperous. On the night before Bob Lord's death, he asked her to look after his son, Tom. Tom was two years older than Erin, and, unknowingly to his father, he was the first person she had kept collared and chained to her bed regularly. Or perhaps the shrewd old man knew; Erin wouldn't have put it past him.

Erin ended up marrying Tom Lord, not out of love, but because the business world accepted a married woman more easily than a single one. Plus, Tom was exceptionally well-endowed, and Erin had a weakness for a big cock. They remained married, and Erin believed she loved Tom in her own way. She thought of him now, waiting for her in his cage, obedient and eager to please.

Erin's mind returned to the present, and she felt satisfied with how the day had gone. She picked up her cigarettes, lit one, and leaned back in her chair, enjoying the warm, familiar feeling as the smoke filled her lungs. She knew she should quit, but the habit was too deeply rooted, too enjoyable to give up.

She glanced at Vanessa, a smirk playing on her lips. "I guess your day didn't turn out how you expected, did it, my dear?" The question was rhetorical; Vanessa couldn't answer, not with the collar punishing her for any sound. "Thought you had it all figured out, didn't you?" Erin laughed, a cold, mocking sound. "You were just a number on a fucking dice, number three, I think. Just part of a game that rich, bored women like me play."

She took a final drag from her cigarette and stubbed it out on the seat between Vanessa's legs. Picking up the smoldering butt, she offered it to Vanessa's lips. Vanessa kept her lips tightly sealed, but Erin sighed impatiently. "You might as well take it now, bitch, because if I have to make you take it, well, you know the rest."

Vanessa sobbed, her body trembling with each ragged breath. Slowly, she opened her mouth. "Put your tongue out for me, there's a dear," Erin commanded. Vanessa obeyed, her tongue trembling as Erin placed the crushed butt on it and pressed against her lips to make sure she took it in. "Good girl, see? We're going to get along fine."

Erin watched as Vanessa dry-swallowed, her throat working painfully. She offered her another glass of water with a straw, this time mixed with her own spit. Vanessa gratefully accepted it, using it to wash away the bitter taste of the cigarette butt. Erin knew Vanessa would probably vomit later, so she would have to keep her un-gagged until then. A small sacrifice for the fun she was having. 

A phone rang, breaking the tense silence. It was Colleen, one of the six women; in fact, she was Vanessa's sponsor. "Hi Erin, how's my girl doing?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Colleen was disappointed with how things had turned out, but she did her best to hide it.

"She's doing just great," Erin replied, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "We're having a blast getting to know each other."

That's great," Colleen said, her tone neutral. "Can you do me a favor? I need her to text the managers of her businesses to let them know I'll be in to review the books tomorrow, and to ask them to give me whatever I need.

"No problem," Erin responded casually. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, you can tell her Colleen says hi," Colleen added. "I'll chat with you later."

Erin hung up the phone, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she turned back to Vanessa. "Looks like I need you to send some texts, dear. Better get to it, wouldn't want to disappoint, would we?”