Ben can’t believe he lost everything at the casino, and he’ll do whatever it takes for another chance to win… even if that means submitting to an ultra-humiliating bout of man-on-man action with the terrifying bouncer Cue! Can Ben beg his way into a second chance? Or is he all out of luck?!
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Ben Wastermeek still couldn’t believe it had happened. He had never gambled before in his life, and now it was all gone. How did that even happen? He could remember every moment of it, but he remembered it like it had happened to someone else, like it was an awful movie he saw.
There were a lot of reasons, but mainly there was just one: Ben wanted to feel like a winner. And he had been a winner. He had been sixty thousand dollars richer at one point in the night. He had been a king for about three hours. Those three hours were everything.
And now he had cashed out everything.
The tuition money from his college loan, his retirement money and all of his savings. He had even maxed out the cash advances on his credit card and gotten an advance on his next paycheck at the nearest payday loan place. He was ruined.
So, as he pled with the bouncer, Ben couldn’t quite conceive of this not working. It had to work. Everything was riding on it. He had won sixty thousand dollars. That had to count for something.
“Look, mistuh, I’m sorry you lost e’rything,” said the bouncer at the club Lipsweet in central Las Vegas. He was Cue, according to the name-tag on his suit. He was tall and built like the proverbial brick shithouse. He was powerfully strapped and barrel-chested, gristly neck, crooked nose. He was square-jawed, white as bone, looked like he dressed like a biker outside of work. Ben also wouldn’t have been surprised at all to see an iron cross or even a swastika tattooed on his chest or back.
But Ben couldn’t give up. He had to get his money back, or at least enough to pay back the cash advances he had gotten. That would ruin his credit for years. Casinos have serious corporate management, he thought, they must have a way to do that. “Please, just let me talk to the manager. I know it’s not your decision to make-“
“It is, though. The decision is no. That’s the rules of the game, sir,” Cue said. He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Please step aside. I need to be watching the entrance to the casino.” He sighed deeply. “Look, man, I get it that you’re upset. You have every right to be-“
“You don’t understand, I just need to explain what happened. I’m sure the manager-“
“The manager ain’t even here, man. The manager is Mickey Garelli, and he ain’t gonna be impressed by no beggin’. Please… I don’t wanna have to kick you out,” he said. “I don’t wanna wrinkle my suit. Or get your blood on it. You know if I get a deadbeat’s blood on me, I gotta get tested for AIDS four times a year for like five years? Insurance rules.”
“Yeah, look, I-“
“Come on, man. Don’t be a fuckin’ deadbeat,” Cue said. “You gonna stand here like a shitball and beg me? Have some fuckin’ dignity.” He flared his nostrils. His muscles flexed under his too-small suit like he was ready to throw a punch, but Ben didn’t think he was in any danger. Casinos were underground mob boss things anymore. They were nice. Normal. They wouldn’t hire a thug. Cue was just a security guy. A rent-a-cop basically.
“You have to let me talk to whoever’s in charge-“
A new bouncer appeared from behind Ben. He was a big black man with cornrows, much taller than Cue. He wore a suit as well, but his fit better. “Yo, Cue, you havin’ trouble?”
“I’m just showin’ this asshole some mercy, Tyrell, but he ain’t takin’ it.”
“You know deadbeats don’t respond to that,” the black man Tyrell said.
He shrugged. “I know. I guess I should-a just ripped his nuts off, but I don’t know… He looks like a sad puppy dog.”
Ben blushed. He realized how pitiful he must look, but he straightened his back. He needed to get his money back. If he made a big enough fuss, they’d have to give him something, he thought.
“So he’s a gambling man, huh?” said the black bouncer, Tyrell. “I’ll bet you he’d ‘clean the back-office’ for a chance to win his money back.”
“Yes! I would!” Ben blurted out before he even heard what the man said. It was obvious from his tone that ‘clean the back-office’ was code for something, but Ben didn’t care. If there was even a chance he could get his money back, he wanted to take it. He pictured himself cleaning. That’d be fine.
Besides, he was a gambling man. He had been down for a long time. Surely he was about to get back on top. Even if they only gave him one chip, that would be worth it because he’d have a chance, a real chance, to win back his money and even more. The lights would go off, people would cheer, waitresses would come by and kiss him on the cheek and give him free drinks. He’d be a winner again.
Cue and the other bouncer Tyrell laughed. Cue seemed annoyed, like he would never have offered ‘cleaning the back office’ as an option if the other bouncer hadn’t brought it up. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll show you the office.”
He followed Cue through the casino. Ben saw the blinking lights and the excited squealing of the people who won, and he almost forgot that he was penniless. He could have stayed here for hours just watching other people win, but he hung close to Cue. He wanted a chance to play.
Cue looked scary enough that people moved out of his way. He moved like he was used to that, shoving past people. The punks and tourists and gambling freaks parted like the red sea.
He led Ben down an empty corridor to a small bathroom, barely big enough for the two of them. Ben breathed a sigh of relief. They probably just wanted him to clean the toilets, and they’d give him bus fare, or something like that. It’d be like washing the dishes to pay for a meal in a restaurant.
But the bathroom appeared spotless. Pristine, even. There was a small shelf attached to one wall, and on it was a tube of anal lube, a clothespin, a large dildo, a few condoms and a few other odds and ends.
This bathroom didn’t need cleaning.
“We don’t use this bathroom,” Cue said with a craggy frown and a baritone rumble in his chest. He closed the door and produced one blue chip from his pocket. “Or, well, we don’t use it for poopin’.”
“Oh. Uh, okay. What do you-?”
“This is the cornhole-closet,” Cue said. He laughed at Ben, who turned white as a cloud and his knees buckled. Cue shook his head. He held up the blue chip in his hand. “You can leave anytime, bitch. But if you stay, I’m gonna treat you real bad. My girl’s been holdin’ out on me, and she a real bitch anyway. I oughta dump her ass but she used to give good head and, uh… Well, I’m gonna take out my frustrations on ya. It’s gonna hurt. I got a big dick. I’m-a tear yo’ guts up. And all you gettin’ is this one twenty dollar chip. You can cash it out, or you can gamble it. That’s up to you.”
“Oh, uh…”
“I ain’t even into this, just so you know. I ain’t even think of it. That big black feller out there, he love it. He try to cornhole at least one deadbeat every shift he work. Black fellers love ass, I do reckon,” Cue said. “He been sayin’ I’m too weak to do it.”
“I dunno…”
“Us bouncers compete to see who can cornhole a intact ass as hard as possible. Not me, really, usually. The black ones do. They gonna wanna hear all about it, and there’s even a camera in here, so they is gonna watch. There’s prolly some security man watching right now.” He waved at the camera in the corner, and he forced Ben to wave too.
A tear leaked down Ben’s cheek. He tried to soberly consider his options, but that blue chip danced above Cue’s knuckles. Ben wanted to kiss it and make love to it. He would have done anything to get just one more chance to win.
He nodded wordlessly.
“Damn… I really thought you was gonna back out. That makes me sad, man. It really does. I’m glad I can be part of makin’ you hit rock-bottom though. Remembuh you can always quit. And you know, Jesus and shit. Go to church,” Cue said. “Take off your clothes.”
Ben gulped and did as he was told. He felt skinny next to Cue, who was as thick as a bodybuilder, though he didn’t look quite that cut. He looked like an offseason bodybuilder. His muscles bulged from the ill-fitting suit he wore. Ben left his boxers on at first, then Cue motioned for him to take them off too.
He gingerly picked up Ben’s underwear with his fingertips and threw it in the toilet bowl. He added Ben’s socks as well. Then he picked up Ben’s shirt, pants and shoes and took them out of the bathroom.
“Stay here. I can sell these to a homeless man for a few bucks. That’s virtually a charity,” Cue said, beaming like he expected Ben to congratulate him on doing something nice. He must have put the clothes in a locker or something like that nearby because he returned moments later. He sighed. “Now you gotta get me hard. I mean… you don’t gotta. You can take your toilet-dripping underwear and get out.”
“Please, I don’t have anything…”
“I know. You got one tiny shred of dignity left. You can take it and leave if you want, or you can decide how you wanna get me hard. You wanna swallow my cum or slurp on my asshole?”
Ben sobbed. Was this really what he was reduced to? He couldn’t believe it had come to this.
But if he got paid with that casino chip, he was going to gamble it. There was still that to look forward to. He had a chance. He could be a big winner. What game should he play it on? Blackjack? Roulette? Did they have a twenty-dollar roulette wheel here? Probably not. Should be blackjack, he thought, that has a skill component.
“I’ll… swallow your cum,” Ben said. He sunk to his knees and sniffed back tears.
“Well, go ahead.” Cue smiled. He put his hands on his hips. He lifted his suit jacket to given Ben easy access, but he didn’t take his pants off.
Ben shuddered. He unzipped the fly of Cue’s slacks. Then he reached in and shuddered again at the feel of Cue’s greasy cockshaft. It was dark brown and sticky with dried-on sweat.
“Sorry, I been workin’ all day,” Cue said. “My balls prolly smell.”
Ben nodded. He gagged. Cue’s huge cock popped out of the fly, and a pair of hairy, low-hanging balls. It smelled so badly of sweat and old cum that Ben thought he would throw up. His cockmeat was moist with a sheet of moisture and emanated heat so intensely Ben could feel it from a foot away.
Cue just sighed again and pried Ben’s mouth open. He gripped Ben’s cheeks and fed his dick in. Ben gagged as soon as he tasted it, and he coughed up a big ball of spit that plopped onto the bathroom floor.
“Don’t spit that on the floor.” Cue slapped Ben on the cheek, just hard enough to hurt. “And if you get my pants dirty, I won’t give you the chip when you’re done.”
“Come on… Man, I’m tryin’…” Ben said.
But Cue was relentless. He grabbed ahold of Ben’s chin and squeezed until his mouth opened. He pushed the tip of his dick past Ben’s lower lip. Salty sweat again assaulted Ben’s senses. “Now, I’m gonna use ya mouth as my pussy, deadbeat. Try to make sounds like a female, I gotta imagine you a female, I ain’t a black feller who’s a fuckin’ booty bandit! Tyrell!” He yelled in the direction of the doorway, though it didn’t seem likely Tyrell was out there.
Ben opened his mouth wide but Cue’s fat cock was so long Ben couldn’t get anything more than the glans in his mouth. He choked again, and his eyes watered from both shame and the revolting taste of unwashed cock. Cue’s muscles rippled beneath his suit.
But Cue’s cock remained limp and floppy, like a meaty dead animal. It was at least twelve inches long and lined with blue and red veins. It gleamed with moisture, and its texture made Ben gag.
“You ain’t gettin’ me hard, boy,” Cue said. “Spit on it some.”
Ben spat. He found it difficult to produce much saliva though. Cue sighed as though this was a great imposition for him. He slapped Ben over the face with his cock, which was thick and heavy enough to hurt a little bit.
Holding back tears and blushing, Ben tried to catch Cue’s cock with his mouth. He thought maybe if he tried his best, Cue would go easy on him. He really didn’t want to take that entire cock in his ass.
“Alright, I gave you a chance to mouth me off, and that ain’t working. Nothin’ personal, nobody really mouths my dick right. It’s too big,” Cue said. “Now you get to eat my asshole instead. Anyone with a working tongue can do that.”
“What, no!”
“Then get out,” Cue said. “Don’t get ya chip.” He turned around, dropped his slacks and his boxers, revealing a thick plump ass. The crack was dark and hairy, and it gleamed with sweat. It was humid like a jungle. Ben imagined he could see its funk emanating like an aura from Cue’s muscular cheeks.
Ben wanted to leave, but he didn’t. He wanted to gamble one last time.
When he was done — if he didn’t win, though he didn’t like to think about that — then he would quit gambling, maybe go to rehab. But before he could even say yes, Cue backed his ass right into Ben’s face. His asscheeks were cold and rock-hard, and he had a big fat scar on one of them.
“Get your tongue out, dumbass. Don’t try licking my asscheek or something either. I want a proper rimjob. Get your tongue inside my ass. If you ain’t tastin’ rectum, you ain’t doin’ it right,” Cue said with a laugh as though that was his motto.
Ben hadn’t really thought about the mechanics of this. Was that really what a rimjob was supposed to be? He slowly opened his mouth, a physically painful gag rolling through his body. He heaved and probably would have thrown up if there was anything in his stomach.
But opening his mouth to heave heightened the nauseating aroma — the smell of Cue’s ass tasted even worse on his tongue than it was in his nose. Ben could feel the funk, like a humid mist on the inside of his mouth even before he actually came into contact with Cue’s ass.
And then the funk flowed into his mouth, the sweat of Cue’s body trickling onto Ben’s tongue. He gagged continuously, retching loudly even as his tongue poked through the tangled nest of ass-hair. His head may have been bald and his asscheeks were smooth, but Cue’s buttcrack was choked with black hairs.
He wasn’t sure he’d know when his tongue hit Cue’s asshole, but then when he did hit it, he absolutely knew. His tongue sank in. Cue grunted, and Ben could tell that his dick started to harden even though Cue faced away from him so he couldn’t see.
Cue was a muscular man, so his ass was tight and hard. As he got aroused, his cheeks and even his asshole squeezed as though he was trying to hold Ben in place with his ass.
“Don’t take your tongue out, man, stick it all the way in,” Cue said. He began grinding his muscular hips, rubbing his asshair on Ben’s face. “Now blow a raspberry, like this.” He blew a loud raspberry that echoed in the linoleum bathroom.
Ben did the same, the sound muted and muffled by Cue’s body. It made a sound like a fart though, which was tremendously loud in Ben’s ears because it happened right on his face. He could even feel air escaping from Cue’s ass, going right down Ben’s throat, and Cue’s whole body vibrated. He groaned.
“Damn, you rim pretty good for a first-timer,” Cue said. “But I don’t wanna blow my wad like this. You got me hard, now let’s get on to the main show. You got any final words before I cornhole you?”
“No,” Ben said. He was glad to pull away from Ben’s ass, but he trembled in fear at the thought of taking that inch-long cock into his ass. “I mean yes. Please, uh… Lemme just, I dunno, give you a handjob or somethin’.”
“You serious? Do I look like a punk-ass bitch?”
“No, just… I don’t think I can take it.”
“Course you can. I’ll just have to bust you wide. You might not walk straight for a couple days, or maybe forevuh, I dunno,” Cue said. “You can still walk outta here, but I know you won’t. You’re gonna play that chip, ain’t ya? You’re gonna lose. You know that, right? Even if you win, you’re gonna lose. Because you’re a loser.”
Ben sobbed. He knew that was right. He bent over on all fours in front of the toilet. Only a loser would be in this position. Ben would never be anything else.
Unless, of course, he used that chip to win.
“You’re lucky my shift is over, and I wanna get home. Otherwise I wouldn’t use lube, just so I have an excuse to spend hours in here stretching you out,” Cue said with a chuckle. “Mickey would say that was a good use of my time.” He squeezed lube into Ben’s ass. It was cold and goopy, and he shuddered.
Then he bit his lip as pain hit his ass. It was just the tip of Cue’s cock, but the agony was already arduous. Ben had an urge to lower his head, but that would put his face in the toilet, so he didn’t.
Cue gripped Ben’s hair as he squeezed the first couple inches in. He grunted and sighed, and he slapped Ben’s cheeks. He laughed at their jiggling. His fingers massaged Ben’s rim trying to stretch it, but that made the pain so much worse than Ben cried out.
“Alright, you got about a third of it befo’ I hit resistance,” Cue said. “I got techniques to get you to open up, but it’s better if you do it consciously. Can you open up any more?”
Gritting his teeth, Ben managed to loosen himself up some. That caused a flood of pain that made him arch his back, and the movement made the pain even worse. Ben spasmed and squealed.
But Cue had a firm grip on his chest and his waist, holding him in place. Cue clucked his tongue and squeezed Ben until he stopped moving.
“Alright. Good. You at almost half. That’s real good, deadbeat,” Cue said. “Now, here comes the first little trick I got. It’s gonna hurt. Most men use it for dome, but my dick’s too big for that to really help.” He put a clothespin on Ben’s nose, so he had to breathe through his mouth. After a few seconds, Ben’s throat opened, followed by his ass. Cue sighed as some more cock slid into Ben’s ass. Ben screamed right into the toilet water just in front of his face. “I ain’t ramroddin’ you, by the way. I’m holdin’ you in place to make it easier, but you can leave anytime. This ain’t a ramroddin’. It ain’t even really extortion.”
Ben was in too much pain to think about Cue’s words. His ass was splitting, ripping, and he couldn’t help but scream at the top of his lungs. The oldies rock playing through the speakers outside muffled the sound though, so no one could hear it.
“I love that sound. That’s the sound of a deadbeat learnin’ what a useless shit he really is,” Cue said. “Now you got maybe three quarters of my dick inside you. How’s that feel?”
All Ben could do was grunt and gag at the smell of porcelain and toilet water.
“No. Use your words, deadbeat. You got words? Or did you gamble them away.”
Ben spoke through gritted teeth. “It hurts. I can’t talk. Hurts.”
“Good. Now I got one last trick. It’s gonna feel like you’re drowning, but don’t worry. I won’t let you die,” Cue said.
Before Ben could respond, Cue pushed his head into the water. As Ben’s body panicked and his lungs filled with nasty water, his asshole loosened all the way. Ben screamed in agony and shame, while Cue grunted and howled.
His dick slid all the way in. Cue’s balls swung between Ben’s legs. Cue pumped his biceps — he still wore his shirt and suit jacket, his tie now loosened and his shirt-tails lifted up so he could watch his cock slide in.
“Ain’t nothin’ like rammin’ the bitch outuva chokin” deadbeat…” Cue moaned and laughed, flexing his muscles for the men he assumed still watched on the security cameras.
He pistoned his hips back and forth. Ben screamed with every thrust, squirming when Cue hit the deepest extent within Ben’s ass. It felt so good. Cue sighed. He didn’t even mind the toilet water splashing on him.
Cue pulled his hair to give Ben a chance to breathe. His whole body shuddered, and his ass clenched around Cue’s cock. He pushed Ben’s face back into the water, cutting him off mid-gasp.
Ben’s socks and underwear had sunk to the bottom of the toilet bowl, so they clung to Ben’s face when he touched them. Cue’s cock throbbed and spasmed within him, its every tremor sending shockwaves of agony through Ben’s body.
“Here I go, deadbeat, gonna fill you up!”
At last Cue orgasmed. He smashed Ben’s face into the bottom of the toilet so hard Ben was dizzy, his lungs crying out for oxygen. He thought he might black out from the pain and the water.
Cum flowed into him like it was being piped in. He could feel it trickling through his body, its heat and its snotty texture making it palpable within him. It dripped out of his overstuffed hole and stuck to his legs. The smell of santorum filled the air. Cue pumped what seemed like too much jizz up Ben’s backside.
It was hot and creamy, and it seeped into him. Cue pumped his hips each time he spewed another wad into him. Ben couldn’t hear it because his head was underwater, but Cue grunted too with each gyration of his powerful body.
Finally, just when he was beginning to lose consciousness, Cue pulled him out of the water and threw him on the ground. Cue stood up. He sneered at Ben, whom he lightly kicked in the belly.
Ben vomited up toilet water onto the floor. It seemed like way more than he had expected, he thought, wondering how he had swallowed so much. He gasped for air on the floor.
“I’m gonna start pissin’ in a second,” Cue said.His fat dick dangled between his legs and above Ben. “I always piss after I plow. If you’re still there on the floor, I’m gonna piss on you. Crawl away, deadbeat.”
But Ben both couldn’t and didn’t want to crawl away. He deserved this, he thought. He was a deadbeat.
The piss was hot and acrid, and it smelled terrible. It smelled like both piss and cum, and a little bit like shit, Ben thought. It coated his skin and made him gag uncontrollably. He couldn’t even dry-heave though, so his body just spasmed.
Cue tucked his cock away. He flipped the blue chip onto the puddle of fluids on the ground. “Here. You should exchange that for cash and at least go get a shower at the YMCA. You won’t. But you should. Goodbye, deadbeat.” As he walked to the door, he started whistling. “Don’t come back to this casino.”
“I won’t,” Ben said. He took a deep breath. He knew that wasn’t really true, he would probably be back at some point, and he was certainly going to gamble this blue chip here. After going through all this, he thought the universe was sure to reward him with a winning streak.
He struggled to his feet, his asshole and his face aching. He felt filthy, and he had nothing but underwear to wear. But he had one blue chip.
He just needed to find a table he could gamble it at. He was, after all, a gamblin’ man.