Your father's poker buddies.

You saunter slinkily into the dining room and are stunned to see your father's guests have already arrived and are eagerly awaiting you at the table, their cards ready to play. You wonder trembling what they are playing for, but deep down you know.

"Oh my...if I'd known what a filthy whore your brat of a son...ahem daughter was, then I would have pursued a far different path for her...'education'." Your heart leaps to your chest. Stocky, bald, severe, these are the features that have earned your high school principal, Mr. Latimer, his half mocking, half admiring nick name, The Kingpin." You cringe imagining his pervy hands on you, until you peak under the table and notice he's not wearing any pants. You can see his cock is already six inches soft, twice as hard as yours is hard, and thick as a beer can. Your newly awakened whorish hunger craves to be filled up.

"Education isn't what that little missy needs, it's discipline. Haven't I always said if you didn't have that boy doing chores he'd end up a sissy? Well, I'm not exactly complaining how the little lady turned out, but I warned you." Always a font of unsolicited advice, your crotchety neighbor Mr. Roberts, sits staring sternly at you. He has the look of a greying grizzled linebacker. In his fifties, but built like a younger man, and always looking down on your "molly coddled" generation. Still, as you look down underneath the table you see a thick cock already hard and drooling for you. Maybe he's just a little teddy bear on the inside? Either way you want to feel that thick eleven inches inside you.

"Hmmph. Chores won't do it for a nasty little whore like this one. Her training will require more...**** measures." You see your Daddy's coworker, Mr. Dessad, staring holes in you with his piercing grey eyes. Looking like a gaunt Gordon Gecko, your father always described his fellow financier as "even more ruthless than me". He had considered it a compliment, you considered it terrifying. You don't even dare peak under the table to see what he's packing, his cold, cruel eyes are enough to scare you into obedience...for the moment at least.

"Well, what can I say? The slut takes after her mother." The table erupts in laughter as you blush brightly. Your Daddy beckons you over to sit on his lap and you comply without complaint, knowing better than to embarass him in front of other men. Your soft cheeks hug his hard cock through your rubber skirt, pushing your beads in deeper and making you squirm and whimper with need on his lap. "But as you can see, filthy, soft, nasty little whores like her can have their uses. So here's the game. It's ten grand an ante. I keep the pot no matter who wins...however, last man with all the chips keeps the whore. In the meantime, the little Bitch will give each of you a taste of what you're playing for."

You can't believe your ears, your Daddy is going to put you up as a prize in a poker game for perverts? And you are expected to "entertain" the creepy old players? You have one/one hundredth of a mind to tell your Daddy off, but you'd never dare talk back in front of guests, and his cock feels so good against your ass, it has you curious about how his guests will want to play with you. "Why don't you start with Mr. Latimore and work your way cockwise around the table? But no one get's to fuck that virgin ass of yours unless they win."

You hear horny, frustrated groans around the table and your fear begins to give way to fascination. These men want you...they desire you...they even paid dearly for the privilege of a mere chance to own you. Sure they all have terrifying appetites in their own way, but that just makes teasing them more exciting...

You crawl under the table to nestle your face in the Kingpin's big, shiny balls, amazed at their size, the powerful musky smell...you can't help but give them a curious little lick, then a soft lingering kiss, then slowly sloppily sucking each in turn as you stroke his growing shaft with both hands. You coo into his ballsack contentedly, curious how big this two-hander will get, enjoying the power you have to make him squirm in his seat.

"Ahem...well when I win, I will certainly do something about all this nngh cockteasing of your daughter's. I get enough of that at nngh school!" You giggle into his shaft, planting wet little pecks on it all the way up to his cockhead, an impressive nine inches, but it's the width that really scares and excites you. You imagine teasing him, dressed like all the sluts as school, letting him call you by their names, bending you over and tearing you apart with this monster when you push him to far. You feel his cock ready to explode and give it a parting kiss. You giggle as you hear him groan and you crawl over to Mr. Roberts.

You yelp as you feel your neighbor's powerful hands effortlessly pull you from the table and over his lap. You feel a decadent sense of deja vu as you feel his erection throbbing against your rubber encased clit, your ass just waiting for the next blow...dreading it...NEEDING it...

Instead Mr. Roberts uses his powerful hands to softly knead your doughy ass cheeks, drawing out moans and whimpers and causing your beads to caress the sissy sweet spot deep inside you, the spot that's been begging you for hard, pounding attention since you first grazed it with the head of the beads. This is crueler than a spanking, and you think Mr. Roberts knows this. "What this little lady needs is a firm hand. But a loving one. I'll have her transformed into a happy homemaker in no time. Because she'll know the rewards that come with doing all her chores and looking pretty for her man." The groping grows more insistent, leaving you a whimpery puddle of need, dripping on his lap.

"The reward is, I eff her all night long, and she can spurt out of her weak little clitty as much as she wants...as long as she licks it up later. If she's real good, maybe I'll buy her some real breasts for our anniversary." You hate this crotchety cornball. Hate how he won't cuss but will turn you into a mewling little wet pussy with one hand. You hate how he just wants a bang maid bride that he pays in cock. You hate how you are about to say "I do!" before he sets you gently back on the floor and leaves you to crawl to Mr. Dessad.

You stare up at his cock, a good eight inches, not as thick as the other two, but definitely something you would feel sliding in and out of you. You wonder idly if he would be such a bad Daddy. Then he lifts you up by the hair sending shooting pain from scalp to scrotum as he holds you helplessly in front of him, inspecting you coldly.

"You are both wrong...as usual. Listen to this whore's needy pants. Even in agony she is holding out hungry hope for ecstasy." His fingers catch a tear sliding down your soft cheek and bring it gently to your lips, you suckle it instinctively bringing out a cold, mirthless chuckle from your captor.

"Look at this flawless, supple skin. It is a sin to see such a beautiful canvas untouched by welts..." he pinches you lightly, not enough to leave a mark, just enough to draw a moan, "she should be painted in red and purples." He bites your ear lobe, just hard enough to not break the skin, and you pant and pout, wondering why this exquisite **** has left you so achingly hard. "Because what this little hole really needs to be filled with...is PAIN." He drops you to the floor and you are left writhing in need.

You are incoherent. You aren't sure which damnation sounds more delicious. Who ever wins, you lose, but losing sounds so lovely right now. You can barely pay attention to the game. You think you hear them say "All in"...is someone about to win you? You see the cards being tossed face up on the table. There is an awful finality about it. Someone has just won you.