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Samantha Illeridan Hausgrove was not used to being away from the estate. The city scared her, and with good reason! It was a dump! She had to walk here after being dropped off to a more sensible establishment by her chauffeur, and the ‘people’ she saw were best not described. She was not here by choice; her twin sister, Maria Illeridan Hausgrove had caused a stir in the family. Again. This felt different, though — she usually at least sent a letter to inform everyone exactly why she hated them this time.
After conversing with her less savory, more middle class friends she’d managed to piece it together; Maria liked to live fast, and play stupidly. Fathers death had hit Maria hard, and the spare money from the will seemed to have hit her even harder. She’d gone down several social strata and ended up here, at a rundown establishment she’d almost mistook for a tenement building. She steeled herself and walked inside.
Of all the seedy, backstreet casinos, The Emperor was the seediest anyone had managed to come up with. The interior somehow managed to both look decrepit and opulent at the same time. It stank of new money. The proprietors of the establishment had somehow decided it was good taste to add tacky decorative columns and flamboyant, purely ornamental chandeliers to a low roofed basement hall. They topped this off by adding lit wall braziers to the cigarette stained walls.
Ridiculous.
As she walked up to the second entrance, a bouncer stopped her. “Wrong turn, Miss?”
Samantha, with the practiced disinterest she always used on the help, shook her head. “I’m looking for a girl, Maria? Long blonde hair, mid 20s, shouts a lot? Have you seen her?” An awkward pause settled between them “Oh, she’s my twin. Identical. That might help, actually.”
The bouncer leered for a second, wanting to say something, and thought better of it. “Yeah, might’ve. You need to sign this to come in, by the way.”
He gestured to a tear-off pad with a single page, badly proofed contract with the header “non-disclosure agreement” on it. The general gist of it seemed to be that if she ‘ratted out’ anyone in the casino, several major figures in the city would be liable to kill her family in particularly colourful ways. “Just a formality, Miss.” The bouncer winked. The deal seemed sensible, she didn’t plan on spending any more time here than she had to. She signed it, the bouncer tore off the page — revealing an identical, unsigned copy underneath — swung open the doors.
Hundreds of slot machines rung out in unison. Men and women of every class stood together to empty their wallets. Samantha looked at them with a mix of pity and revulsion. “Wretched”, she mumbled to herself, completely inaudible over the din of the hall. She took pride in knowing her sister wouldn’t be so stupid as to be here, at least; Maria was a cards girl through and through. Her sister was at least raised right, even in her downward spiral into depravity.
Samantha waded through this sea of misery till she found the separate, quieter poker hall. Instead of constant bells, the noise was mostly muted mumbling, with an occasional cheer of joy and shriek of despair. She repeated the question she’d posed the bouncer to a passing attendant, who smirked and pointed to the corner. Samantha followed the gesture towards a surprisingly well-stocked bar. There were brands Samantha knew, even if she was too good to drink such swill herself. However, it was the people sitting at a poker table shoved awkwardly next to it that made her gasp.
A collared, nude blonde girl knelt on the ground next to a fat, middle-aged woman who she could only impolitely describe as a dyke; at least, if the leather boots, fingerless gloves, sideshave and piercings were anything to go by. This was a pretty damn cruel joke. There was no way it could be Maria. But she humoured her anxiety and walked closer. Her heart sunk into her stomach as she recognized the birthmark on her sister’s neck.
“Maria? What on earth are you doing?!” Samantha shrieked. The Dyke looked up lazily, cocking an eyebrow. “Who?” She asked, her eyes glinting. “This is Courtney, you can tell by the name on her collar.”
Samantha’s fists were shaking, and she took a step forward; the nude woman looked at her the same way most people would look at a brick wall. “What the fuck happened? What did you do to her?” A crowd of onlookers had already surrounded the table, and watched intently. A man ran to the bar to grab a drink.
The Dyke feigned surprise. “Oh! You’re her sister, aren’t you? Sammy!” The Dyke breathed out the name, punctuating it with a whistle. “It mentioned you a few times back when I let it speak.” She shuffled the deck in front of her absent mindedly. “As for what I did to ‘her’, well… We just played a little, nothing that it didn’t consent to, of course!” The Dyke leaned back in her chair, watching Samantha expectantly.
Samantha’s eyes darted over her sister’s body. Across her thighs lay a variety of differently coloured and sized bruises. What looked like several different people’s dental records covered her arms. Fresh red welts dotted her shoulders. To top it off, the word “Winner!” was scratched into her torso; whoever had done so even added a love heart.
The colour drained from Samantha’s face. God, her sister was a freak. She’d have to deal with this at home. She took what she hoped was a threatening step forward “OK... Uh. Well. Fun’s over for you, I guess. She’s coming back with me. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re going to get in? Freak.” Samantha crossed her arms. Nailed it.
A sharp laugh came from the other side of the table, The Dyke cackled and put the deck down. “Sorry, sweetheart! I own it, and it’s staying. It wants to, y’know. It likes it here!” She pet Maria’s hair, “Go on, tell her.”
Maria looked up, her eyes glassy and blank, and spoke: “I love it here. Why would I leave? She’s so nice to me.” Every word delivered without even the barest hint of emotion, and — more disquieting — in a soft, even tone instead of shouted. What substances had she been taking? This was worse than Samantha first thought. Samantha had never seen anything like it. Maria was even drooling! It happened as soon as The Dyke started touching her.
The Dyke leaned forwards. “Unless you wanna win ‘her’ back, of course.”
“Jesus. Fine.” Samantha reached for her purse to grab a chequebook and The Dyke laughed again.
“What sort of establishment do you think this is, hon? This is a high stakes table.” She looked up and down Samantha’s body, undressing her with her eyes. “Try to barter something I would want. Come, sit.”
Samantha sat at the table, shifting uncomfortably as the spectators started cheering. Best to get it over with quickly. “So what exactly is it that you want? I certainly don’t swing the same way as my sister seems to.” she said tersely, trying not to look at The Dyke — who was busy running her hand down her sister’s back.
The Dyke smiled. “Oh don’t worry, hon. That can be easily fixed. ” She reached down and groped Maria’s tummy “I’ve heard it all before. Isn’t that right Courtney?” Maria nodded eagerly and started barking. “So, cards on the table, Courtney’s not the only pet I have. Call me a hoarder if you want, but I have three other wonderful dogs back home! Courtney, heel!” Maria crawled forward and rested her head on The Dyke's thigh, smiling dumbly. “And, y’know Sammy, I’d really like to make it a full house.”
Samantha’s skin crawled as The Dyke slid a contract and a pen over to her. “Just something to make sure everyone knows this is all of your own free will and all that, you know?”.
Samantha scanned the pages, skipping over a rough outline of how to play poker and the multiple buy-ins that would be required to win back her sister, before landing on the “If I lose, I consent to:” articles. “Perpetual ownership? Injection of amocybin?” she mumbled out loud. Amocybin was a deeply powerful, and deeply illegal, mind altering drug the republic had developed to use on POWs in wartime. People who couldn’t afford any better sometimes used it as a party drug.
Samantha frowned, and hesitated, this was a lot.
“Hey kid, if it helps, I also have to take it if I lose! Brings me down a peg or two, right?” The Dyke smirked and pet Maria’s head. “You want to win it back, yeah?” Sam angrily dragged the pen across the page. The Dyke clapped. “Atta girl!” The game was on.
The Dyke waved down an attendant, and then mumbled something into her ear. The attendant flushed, nodded, and sprinted off; she returned carrying a tray with a pack of cigarettes, which The Dyke greedily snatched up, two glasses of whiskey — which the dyke also greedily snatched up — and two alarmingly large needles.
“Hey kid, want one? Might help with your nerves a little.” The Dyke said, having somehow got it lit and in her mouth without Samantha even noticing. Only then did Samantha notice the lighter on Maria’s collar. The tip, still glowing, pressed against Maria’s collarbone. The skin around where it sat was pink. Samantha noticed a slight shiver from Maria as the skin began to sizzle. Pleasure. What a freak. Maybe Maria was unfixable. She’d always been the weird child, after all, liking the help and speaking about equality.
Despite the horror of everything, it was deeply tempting to take The Dyke up on a cigarette. She'd only been off for a few months. She shook her head, and The Dyke shrugged. “more for me I guess. “ She finished the drag. “Hey pup, open!”
Samantha barely had time to react as Courtney — Maria? Her sister? It was getting hard to see her as that right now — excitedly stuck out its tongue to receive The Dyke’s cigarette. It yapped happily as the cigarette burnt its tongue, tears filling its eyes. This. This was too far. Something, it dawned on Samantha, was clearly wrong.
“Fucking stop!” Samantha jumped out of her seat and stormed towards The Dyke. She managed to take nearly four steps before the spectators blocked her path and shoved her back. Jeers and boos filled the room. Samantha slammed her fist on the table and clutched her head.
“Well, that’ll show me!” The Dyke chuckled. “I’ll use a proper ashtray, just for you, ok?” She pet Courtney, who looked up at her in awe. “Besides, it’s fine! It’s happy!” Without waiting for Samantha to interject, The Dyke kept talking. “Let's deal, eh? First blinds are .01/.02 CCs, we raise ‘em every hour!”
The attendant placed two racks of identical chips on the table, one for each of the players. The Dyke blew her a kiss, and the attendant caught it. Samantha then watched as the attendant smeared her hand across her lips as though savoring every bit of the blown kiss, capping it off by licking her index finger. What the fuck kind of establish was this, filled with sex perverts and drugs of every variety?
Samantha didn’t get a chance to even process because The Dyke was still talking. “Each of these—” The Dyke gestured to the syringes, “—represent a reload of your chips. You lose everything in front of you, you shoot up and keep playing. Sound good?” The Dyke smiled as though she’d just explained a fun hobby to a teenager. If Samantha wasn’t so flustered the words “No?! Fuck off?” would have come to mind. Instead, she just nodded meekly.
The Dyke nodded to the skimpily dressed dealer at the table. Samantha had thought she was just another one of The Dyke’s conquests. “Alright, babe. Start flicking those cards.” She slapped the woman’s ass, causing the crowd to laugh. The dealer flushed, biting her lip to stifle a moan as she started dealing the hands.
Samantha looked at her hole cards, and her breath caught in her throat. Five of spades and eight of diamonds. Useless, unless she could outwit the grinning creep in front of her.
“Bunk hand, babe?”
No such luck.
Sam straightened up, put on as stern a face as she could and replied “Nno?”
“Ah, yeah I can see this not going well for me.” The Dyke smirked. “All in.”
Samantha sighed and tossed her cards into the center. It was fine. She was only down a few chips. She’d get them back on the next hand.
“All in.” The Dyke raised again. She hadn’t even looked at her cards! Samantha gritted her teeth, and folded. It went like this for an hour, The Dyke relishing in every terrified, uncertain expression before Samantha inevitably folded.
By the time Samantha looked back at the two Queens that had — finally — been dealt to her, she was down half her chips. The dealer gestured for Samantha, now on the small blind, to begin the action. She could do this. She took a stack of 0.2 CCs and shoved it into the middle. “Raise.”
The Dyke perked up, a wolfish grin spreading across her face. “Oh! You’re actually playing this time! Hang on, lemme see what I have!” The Dyke peeked at one, then the other. “Yeah! All in.”
“I call!” The words felt unfamiliar after folding so many hands in a row.
The dealer gestured for Samantha to turn her cards face up. She happily complied, smiling as she revealed her Queens. The Dyke let out a long, impressed whistle, and then flipped her cards over. Ace-King of Spades. “Big Slick! I’m gonna need some help!” The Dyke said, groping Courtney for luck.
The dealer burnt a card, dealing it face down, and dealt the first card into the middle. A Queen of Diamonds! Samantha’s heart leapt. Three of a kind! That was one of the best hands! She shot a smug look at The Dyke, only to find that bitch drumming her hands excitedly on Courtney’s shoulders. The next card was the Ace of Hearts. Okay, not bad. A pair of Aces to Samantha’s three Queens meant that The Dyke was still gonna lose. Then, the final card of the flop, and with it a fresh surge of unalloyed terror: King of Clubs.
“Thanks babe!” The Dyke grabbed the dealer's thigh playfully. She giggled and then stood up straight, pretending to maintain a facade of professionalism.
Samantha wanted to scream at the dealer for dealing the cards so slow. It’s like she was dragging this out just to make everything that much more torturous. When the dealer smiled at her, it all but confirmed it.
“Now, the turn,” announced the dealer. That wretched bitch. She burned another card, waited a solid five seconds as Samantha squirmed, and then placed another card face up in the middle of the table. “Six of Hearts. No help.” The dealer met Samantha’s gaze. “Three queens still is the best hand.” She said, kindly. Samantha shook with fear. She could still do this, but everything about this felt wrong. Why was she doing this to herself? As soon as she saw this awful display she should’ve turned tail and left.
“River coming,” announced the dealer. She burnt a card. Ten seconds this time. Ten seconds for Samantha’s already fragile psyche to crack open even further. The Dyke’s face remained unchanged, preoccupied with the two fingers she’d stuck in Courtney’s mouth. The crowd had hushed, and now all that remained was the lewd sound of Courtney slurping and whimpering.
“Ace of Clubs. Best hand is now a Full House.” Samantha had been so disgusted by the pathetic display she didn’t even see the card dealt. It took a moment to register that she lost. Oh, God. The room swam in front of her as she lost control of her breathing. She hadn’t felt this terrified since her father passed.
The Dyke eagerly got up from the table and grabbed the needle from the platter. Samantha leapt out of her chair, all agreement forgotten, only to be grabbed by the crowd behind her. The Dyke clutched her arm and dragged her dress sleeve back. “Honestly, I find this makes the game a lot easier for people,” The Dyke drawled and plunged the needle in.
The worst part was she was right. Confidence filled Samantha’s brain. All horror and anxiety slid right out of her mind, replaced with glorious blankness. After all, what did she have to worry about? Being turned into a dog? That just wouldn’t happen. She wasn’t like her sister. It would work out, she’d wipe the smile off this ghouls face and fix her freak sister in the process.
Sam woozily sat back on the chair, and relaxed, steepling her hands behind her head. She felt goooooooooood. “Alright bitch, reload me!” When the attendant took a regular human amount of time to process the words, Sam started snapping her fingers. “Oi! You listening? I’m in, I’m fucking game. And don’t do any of that queer shit to me.”
“You’re getting it!” The Dyke giggled and lit another cigarette. The Dyke slapped the attendant’s ass yet again. “You heard the girl, get her another rack.”
It was during the second set of the blinds that, for the first time that night, Samantha felt great. Pocket aces, she barely even registered that The Dyke was resting her legs on her ‘sister’. “You know what, fuck it. Light me a cig?” The Dyke’s eyes lit up.
“How about you do it yourself?” She pulled Courtney up, then splayed her across the table until the lighter was in reach of Sam. As Sam reached for the lighter, she heard Courtney whine again. Glancing at The Dyke, she saw the sleazy woman’s hand working between the dog’s legs. She sighed, when in Rome… And lit the cigarette. Sam let the lighter go for a second longer than necessary, pissed that her waste of a sister was forcing her to do this. She let it drop, smirking when she heard ‘Courtney’ groan at the new burn.
“Alright, go back,” Sam said, grasping the collar and yanking until it got the message. It whined and retreated back between The Dyke’s legs. The Dyke lazily let some of the ashes fall on to her footstool, and looked at Samantha expectantly. She wasn’t sure why until she realized her dipshit sister had flipped over her cards.
“Well I’m obviously fucking all in,” In an extra fit of sadism, she continued “You should call! It’d be so good if you never spoke again.”
The Dyke beamed at Samantha in the same manner as a parent would look at their child after first learning to ride a bike. “Pocket aces? Hell yeah, I’ll call. Enjoy it!” The Dyke revealed 2-3 offsuit, one the worst hands she’d seen that night. When the flop came Ace-Ace-7, Samantha knew it was over. Hell yeah.
Deflated a little by The Dyke’s sheer lack of care this round. Samantha stood up as smugly as she could, grabbed the needle and sauntered over to The Dyke’s chair. The living footstool, her sister who she loved very much, growled at her. She looked down with disgust, and glanced up at The Dyke. She had the perfect line. “Honestly, I find this makes the game a lot easier for most people,” Samantha said, in what she sincerely believed was a good impression, and made a good show of slowly inserting the needle before plunging. The crowd didn’t seem as impressed.
“Well, yeah kid! Why do you think I take some before every game?” The Dyke said, far too neutrally. Her pupils had at best slightly widened. This was extremely disappointing. Samantha slammed the needle on the table and snatched the cigarette from The Dyke’s mouth. No fucking way she was going to risk that stupid footstool fucking up her game. “Sore winner too, huh,” rang out from behind her. Samantha flipped her off and sunk back into her chair. The Dyke laughed hysterically. “You’re fuckin’ high-larious, Sammy!”
“God. Just deal again.” For a moment Sammy, no, Sa-man-tha was furious. She glared at the smug prick in front of her, and imagined her with her vocal cords removed and relaxed slightly. This would be it. One last reload of chips. 10cc/20cc blinds this time. Whoever lost this would be fucked. Before she’d even been dealt her hole cards, Samantha decided to give The Dyke a taste of her own medicine. “All-in.” She didn’t even bother to look at the cards once they were dealt. God was on her side.
“I mean, yeah, sure fuck it!” The Dyke was having the time of her life; she was barely even groping Courtney at this point. Good. Samantha was sick of this whole pervert schtick. Just play the fucking game. She’s the thing that mattered here, not whatever that sleazy dyke had between her legs.
The dealer reached over to Samantha and flipped over her hole cards. Four of Diamonds, Seven of Clubs. Okay, not bad. Not great, but The Dyke was also running blind so it was fine. As long as The Dyke didn’t have something good, like—
“Pocket Kings!” The dealer announced, and Samantha definitely registered the excitement in the woman’s voice this time. “Great work, babe!” What? It was so fucking over. If Samantha was confident in anything, she was confident in that.
The Dyke leaned forward and steepled her hands. Her smirk gone and replaced with a look of unrestrained lust. The dealer burnt a card, then placed three cards in the middle of the table. Two Kings and a 6. A harsh scream echoed through the room. Samantha barely registered that it came from her own mouth, she was too busy staring at the table.
Several members of the crowd were taking wads of cash from a particularly gullible looking man. “I thought she’d pull it out,” he muttered bashfully. It took a minute for Samantha to realise someone was stroking her hair, she looked up. The Dyke looked back cheerfully, she was holding another syringe full of noxious green liquid.
The first dose had just rid her of her anxiety. This took something much deeper. An ego is a painful thing to lose. A sense of complete emptiness filled the girl’s mind, and then the questions flooded in. Why was she here again? Who were all these people? Who was she? She felt sick, a line of drool ran from her mouth and pooled onto her losing hand.
A finger clicked in front of her. “Sammy? You alright? Spaced out for a while.”
A kind, smiling face swirled in front of her. The thoughts stopped.
“ttired” Sammy mumbled, she struggled to recollect what had happened the last few hours. Had she been drinking? She felt a gloved hand pet her legs and began to relax. It would all be ok.
“You’re looking a little warm, hon,” The kind stranger said. “You might be a bit overdressed! Try slipping out of that for me, will you?”
Sammy nodded. This seemed reasonable, she was covered in sweat. She was surprised she hadn’t thought of it sooner. She stood up, unzipped her dress and slid out of it; a woman in the crowd started laughing, joined soon by the rest of those around her. Sammy flushed. “Hey, don’t focus on them, kid,” The stranger said, running her hand around her tummy and down her tights. Sammy gasped. Whatever she was doing felt incredible. This woman was being so nice to her.
“Hhey, this is really nice,” Sammy giggled, feeling hot again. “But, um, who are you again?” It felt like a strange question to ask from someone who clearly only had her best interests at heart.
The woman seemed to think so as well. “I really don’t think you need to ask questions like that, Sammy.” A pang of guilt ran through her, but before she could apologise for being so rude she felt a sharp clawing pain in her thigh. Sammy shrieked.
“In fact maybe it’s best if you don’t talk? You promised, remember?” Sammy nodded desperately, she didn’t remember, but clearly she must have. “Atta girl.” She wouldn’t mess up like this again. The stranger retrieved her hand, nails stained slightly red, from Sammy’s tights.
The stranger gestured to her chair. “OK! Now for something you’ll hear a lot soon: sit!” Sammy dutifully got into the chair and looked up at the woman. “Now, let’s continue our game shall we?”
At this, some of the crowd sighed and walked off. A rude man muttered something about “her being too high to even bet on,” prompting the stranger to look at him, confused. Then she shrugged and went back to her chair.
Two cards were thrown face down in front of Sammy. This felt very familiar, Sammy guessed she must have been playing against this woman and her cool friend for a while.
Sammy lifted up her cards, two jacks. She felt a flush of excitement, she could beat her friend and win… something? It would be nice to win anyway. Before she could think to motion, the stranger interrupted, “OK, hon,” The stranger was smiling again. “Fold for Daddy~.”
Before she could think about what she was doing, Sammy slid her cards face down into the center of the table. Her dad stood up and hugged her friend. She glanced at the cards on the table, cackled, and grabbed a smooth black piece of leather from her chair. Her dad gestured on the floor for her to sit.
“Congratulations, pup! I guess you'll still be seeing your girlfriend a lot more now. She missed you!” Sammy tilted her head quizzically. Her dad sighed and patted the cute girl crawling at her side meaningfully “Courtney, remember? You came here to find her! It’s ok, you’ll spend a while with each other, don’t worry!” Oh! She was wondering why she was so familiar, Sammy was so glad that the stranger was reintroducing her, she seemed so happy. She was shocked she could forget something like this, it was great to have someone so kind to look after her.
Her father finished fastening the loop around her neck; she felt her hair get tussled and giggled. Sammy’s girlfriend sniffed her inquisitively and looked up at her dad, who nodded enthusiastically. Before she could react, a warm tongue entered her mouth, several whoops rang out around her. Her dad paused and watched the scene indulgently for a while before she clapped. “Lets get you two lovebirds back home, eh? Follow!”
Absent-mindedly, she turned to the dealer, “Great work! See you at home, babe!”
The dealer pumped her fist excitedly. “Love you!” She said, gleefully flicking her gaze between the twins. “Have fun breaking it in!”
Sammy got on her feet, excited to be going for walkies. Her dad tutted kindly, and pointed at her partner on her knees. Of course! She would have to be more careful.
Her father walked briskly through the crowd. Hands groped at Sammy’s hair and back as she crawled after her. She almost stopped to let them before her dad whistled, and she carried on throughout the casino. Some people ogled, some jeered, and some just continued gaming, unaware of the lovers behind them. Father ignored all of them.
Eventually they reached a lift, taking them up several floors into a spacious hallway. Her dad opened a thick wooden door, to a lovely, if small, apartment. Sammy stared at Courtney excitedly, and reached for her hand. Another tut. “At least get comfortable first!”
Her dad was so right. Why would she treat her girlfriend like this? She eyed her options: there was a sweet three piece sofa; a separate bedroom; a mini-bar; and a spacious metal cage, covered in fluffy pillows. She looked at Courtney, who was already speeding to the cage. Taking the hint — she was so good at that — she rushed in needily after her. “See, this is a lot nicer, have fun!”
Sammy felt herself get pinned to the pillows, and moaned as lips and teeth met her neck. The cage clicked shut.
Daddy giggled and sat on the sofa to watch.
“And remember — play responsibly!”