Page 15 of Gambler's Fallacy

He inhales slowly, his hips bucking into my touch. “This drag show… Master, please,” he pleads.

I loosen my hold on his balls. “Please, what?”

“You said you’d hurt me,” he whimpers. “I need it.”

I wonder if something in particular happened to make him crave the pain today or if he’s only telling me what he thinks I want to hear. “I’ll hurt you in due time. Now, I’m sure you didn’t spend all day marathoning a drag show. What else did you do?”

He winces. I don’t know if he really thought he could get away with the half-truth or not, but when a little bit of pressure is applied to him, he always caves so beautifully. “I spent a little time at the blackjack tables,” he says reluctantly. “But I only lost a little.”

I almost laugh about that. A little, by whose standards? Because if the daily reports are to be believed, Seven has consistently been losing the five grand I set aside for him every day. Sometimes he’ll win, but he’s back the next day, spending all his money on blackjack instead of buying himself clothes or food or random junk he wants to have.

It’s a problem.

We all know it’s a problem, but we can’t decide on how to deal with it.

“I’ll have to lower your spending limits,” I suggest, digging my fingers into his balls.

He lets out a low sound, but I’m not sure whether it’s from the physical pain or the pain of an addict who’s potentially going to be cut off from his fix. “Please don’t,” he whispers — and I knowthat, at least, has everything to do with the latter. “I’ll… I’ll start winning soon. You know I will. It’s just taking time.”

“You do win, Seven. At a slightly lower than average rate, but you do win.” I sigh and pull his balls down, eliciting another yelp. “You can’t negotiate with the odds, though. There’s no endless winning.”

“There’s only endless losing,” he mumbles, his hips bucking forward as he presses against my hand for only a second before pulling away to put more strain on his balls.

I let go entirely and spank his ass once. “All right. Why don’t we add to that losing streak? I’ve got a toy you’re going to love to hate.”

“Yes,” he says immediately.

I almost shake my head. He’s never going to learn to negotiate at this rate, not when he only knows how to say yes to anything we tell him we’ll do to him.

I walk over to my closet and pull out the container with all the sex toys in it. I don’t think I accessed this container nearly as much before I picked up Seven.

To think, that this all started on a whim. If Seven hadn’t been on the side of the road that day, if I hadn’t been on my way back from a business meeting… hell, if Vortex hadn’t been my driver, or if Havoc hadn’t pissed off Grant.

A series of random events that some people might consider luck.

There’s no such thing as luck, of course. It’s all random, coincidence—and if you want better odds than that, you have to make them yourself.

I pull out the nasty set of clamps that I’d never used. The man I’d bought them for had chickened out before I’d gotten around to even suggesting clamps.

I go back to Seven and dangle the clamps in front of him. “How many do you think you can handle? Three? Five? Ten?”

He looks up, freezing as his eyes go to the clamps. Then he relaxes slightly in that way he does when he’s done something before, when he thinks he can handle it. “I don’t know,” he lies.

I give him a stern look. “How many do you want?”

That’s the real question. He licks his lips. “I want as many as you want to give me,” he says — and that, I know, is the truth. Whether it’s too much for him or not enough, he’ll take what I give him.

I grip his hair and force him onto his haunches, then lean in for a harsh kiss. Seven gasps and moans, opening up for me all the same.

When I pull back, I say, “You still haven’t learned how to negotiate.”

He bites his bottom lip instead of replying, but his pupils areblown and I can tell he’s already sinking under, into that place where he cares even less about negotiations than usual.

I push him onto the bed, on his back. “Grab your thighs and keep your legs nice and spread for me. If you close them, I’m done. Got it?”

Nodding, Seven obeys. Once he’s settled onto his back, hands gripping his thighs, he tells me, “I’m ready.”

I sit down by his ass and give his cock one long stroke. “I have twenty clamps,” I tell him with a wicked grin. “I think I could fit all of them on your balls and your cock.”

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