Waking Up in Vegas

Jennie's mouth tasted terrible.

It was the first thing she noticed when she woke up. Her saliva was thick and gummy in her mouth, and there was a lingering taste of something rank and foul on her tongue. It tasted sour and bitter, all at once, and it made her want to do nothing more than run to the bathroom and try to get rid of it.

But as soon as Jennie opened her eyes even a little, the pounding ache in her skull forced her to pay attention to that, instead. The light wasn't that bright, but it felt like steel spikes being jammed into her eye sockets all the way up into her brain. She recognized the sensation, but she'd never been this hung over in her whole life. She didn't feel like she was going to die; she felt like she wished she was going to die.

Jennie clenched her eyes back shut and put her hand over her face, hoping the pain would subside before--

Before the competition! The shock of adrenalin that hit alongside the realization snapped her to full awareness right away, and Jennie sat bolt upright despite her throbbing headache. It was already light, which meant that she needed to get up and get showered and get dressed and get ready and get out there and get cheering and she was never ever ever ever ever going to listen to Molly Fitzpatrick again as long as she lived and--

And this wasn't her room. Jennie stared around in confusion at her surroundings; she didn't have the faintest clue where she was, but this definitely wasn't the hotel room that the school had assigned her. It was a lot bigger, for one thing; the bed alone was probably the size of her old room. Where the fuck was she? Jennie put her head in her hands, and ran her fingers through her hair in despair and confusion.

Her hair! What had happened to her hair? Jennie felt her scalp again, this time in an attempt to figure out why it was only an inch long. Yesterday, she'd had chestnut locks that went down to her shoulder blades, and this morning...what the hell had she done last night? Jennie rummaged through her fragmented memories, trying to piece together the previous night.

The first part came back to her pretty quickly. The excitement of the trip had burned itself into her mind--all the girls were thrilled, and their enthusiasm fed off each other as they boarded the plane. The finals of the World High School Cheerleading Championship! A chance at a college scholarship! Live coverage on ESPN2! A free trip to Las Vegas! Jennie remembered feeling like the whole day had exclamation points attached to it.

And they'd landed, and they'd gotten to the hotel and checked in, and they'd all gotten to their rooms. But everyone was way too keyed up to sleep. That was when Molly Fitzpatrick had suggested they sneak out. It was just the prelims the next morning, they'd cruise through those...and Molly had gotten hold of some truly awesome fake IDs...and the drinks in Vegas were so cheap they were almost free...and the bars never, ever closed...and...and...

And Jennie didn't remember much after that. But she wasn't in her hotel room, and they'd probably already woken all the girls up and gotten them moving, and they were going to notice she wasn't there even if she could figure out where she was and find a way to get back, and she was going to be in so much trouble! With a groan of despair, Jennie flopped back down onto the pillows.

This time, she noticed the arm she'd been lying on.

Jennie rolled over, a new surge of panicky adrenalin flooding through her body. She'd noticed that the bedspread was lumpy, but now that she was paying attention, it did have more of the shape of a human body than of a collection of extra pillows. She lifted up the covers, filled with the sudden absurd fear that she was sharing a bed with a dead hooker.

Thankfully, the woman under the covers was alive. She was entirely nude, but she was alive. Jennie didn't have any clothes on either, she realized. She hadn't--they didn't--ogod. Jennie stared at the woman, studying her in an effort to figure out who she was and how they'd wound up in bed together.

The woman was Asian, perhaps a few years older than Jennie. Her body was slender and supple, with breasts that seemed way too big to be natural. She had a series of tattoos running down her spine that looked to be words of some sort, but Jennie couldn't even tell whether they were Chinese or Japanese from the look of them.

Jennie must have groaned again, because the woman's eyes flickered open and she looked up at Jennie with an expression of devotion on her face. "Good morning, Mistress," she said. "This unworthy slut thanks you for allowing her to sleep on the bed with you."

Jennie stared at the other woman. "Uh..." She stopped, unable to figure out what to say next.

"How is Mistress feeling this morning?" the other woman asked, pulling herself up into a kneeling position. "This unworthy slut hopes that you are well, Mistress, but she suspects it to be otherwise. You were quite ill last night from drink."

"Last night..." Jennie said, her face a blank mask of shock. "What did I--what did we--who are you?"

The woman smiled. "Mistress may refer to this unworthy slut as Keiko, Mistress; although she understands that she is not worthy of a name, this unworthy slut also understands that you will need to call her by one from time to time." She reached out to Jennie, but hesitated a fraction of an inch away from touching. "Mistress, this unworthy slut believes that you are in some distress. May she assist you in easing your pain from last night's indulgences?"

"I, um...what?" It all felt like too much to take in. Jennie's head was still pounding, she still didn't know where she was, and she was lying in bed with a crazy woman. "I need to go," she whimpered, pulling the covers aside and stumbling out of bed.

"Of course, Mistress," Keiko responded, sliding gracefully to her feet. "Where are we going?"

"Not we," Jennie snapped, putting as much intensity into the words as she could while speaking quietly to avoid making her headache worse. "Me. I need to find my clothes, I need to figure out where I am, and I need to get back to the Best Western before I get myself expelled from school." She looked around desperately, but she didn't see any clothes at all, just a dresser.

"You are in the penthouse suite of the Taj Mahal Hotel and Casino, Mistress," Keiko responded as Jennie stumbled over to the dresser and began to pull open the drawers one by one. "The hotel was generous enough to put you up for the night when it became clear that you had overindulged." Jennie barely even heard her over the frantic beating of her heart. No clothes, not in any of the drawers. She raced over to the closet.

"This unworthy slut apologizes, Mistress," Keiko said as Jennie pulled open the closet door. "She took the unforgivable liberty of sending your clothes out to be dry-cleaned. You had stained them with vomit, Mistress, and they were no longer worthy of touching your perfect skin." Sure enough, all Jennie saw was a pair of briefcases on the closet floor.

"Why do you keep talking like that?" Jennie shouted, wincing at the stab of pain her own voice caused. She grabbed the briefcases, hoping against hope that they contained clothing of some sort.

"This unworthy slut speaks as she was conditioned to speak, Mistress," Keiko responded. Jennie squatted down and tried to open one of the briefcases, but it was locked. "Her former master took great pains to instruct her on the proper forms of speech and behavior, and this unworthy slut can now think of no greater wish than to please her owner."

"Wait, whoa, you don't think..." Jennie stared at Keiko, aghast. "I mean, you don't think that I'm..."

"Yes, Mistress," Keiko said. Her eyes briefly fluttered as an expression of utter contentment crossed her face and she fell to her knees as a shudder wracked her whole body. "Mistress owns this unworthy slut, now. Thank you for allowing her to serve you, Mistress."

Jennie gaped at the other woman. "...what the fuck?" she said at last. It seemed like the only appropriate response.

"This unworthy slut understands," Keiko said. She crawled over to Jennie with an ease that suggested she was used to being on her knees. "Mistress is confused and in pain. Please allow this unworthy slut to ease your pain, and she will explain to you the events that transpired while drink fogged your mind."

Jennie shook her head. "Look, all I want to do is get this case open and see if it has something to wear so that I can get out of here and pretend none of this ever happened, okay?"

Keiko's expression fell. "This unworthy slut is sorry, Mistress, but the case does not contain clothing. If it pleases you to know, though, the combination is six-five-three."

Jennie quickly worked the lock, hoping against hope that the crazy slave girl was lying. But when the case popped open--

Jennie forgot all about clothes. She forgot all about the cheerleading competition. She forgot all about being expelled. She even momentarily forgot about Keiko. Seeing a briefcase entirely filled with neat stacks of hundred-dollar bills can do that to a person.

Jennie sat down hard. She stared at the money, reaching out a hand to touch it just to make sure it wasn't a hallucination. It was real. "...is the other briefcase full of money too?" she asked, her voice sounding unfamiliar in her ears.

"Yes, Mistress," Keiko said. "Two million dollars, American. There is a further three million dollars waiting for you in the hotel safe, but you demanded 'walking around money' last night, and the hotel complied once this unworthy slut guaranteed your safety."

Slowly, Jennie closed the briefcase. She stood up and wandered back to the bed in a daze, the throbbing in her head now as much to do with confusion as pain. "Where did I get it all?" she whimpered, sitting back down on the mattress.

"The same place you won this unworthy slut," Keiko said. "Mistress had an astonishing run of luck at pai-gow last night."

Jennie looked down at Keiko. "I don't even know how to play pai-gow!" she said. "I don't even know what pai-gow is!"

Keiko nodded. "This unworthy slut suspects that to be one of the principal reasons that you were invited to join her former master's table, Mistress. The prospect of playing against a drunken girl with two million dollars and no experience of the game appealed to him and his confederates greatly, and he no doubt expected to make a handsome profit at your expense."

Jennie fell backwards onto the bed. "This is all too much," she groaned. "I don't even remember how I got two million dollars to start with."

"Unfortunately," Keiko replied, crawling over to the foot of the bed, "those events occurred before you made the acquaintance of this unworthy slut, so she cannot give you a definitive answer, Mistress. You did make some mention of luck at gambling prior to joining my former master's party, but you were somewhat inebriated by then, and your story was difficult to follow. You said something about playing Russian roulette...or playing roulette with Russians, this unworthy slut could not determine which. She hopes it was the latter, though. This unworthy slut wishes nothing but your continued health and good fortune. Speaking of which, Mistress, may this unworthy slut please help to ease your headache?"

Jennie was still freaked out by the whole thing, but by this point, she needed to get her head together. And her hangover was enough of a distraction that she was finally willing to let Keiko help get rid of it. "Sure, fine, whatever," she muttered. "So I was playing pai-gow...with who?"

Keiko climbed onto the bed and rolled Jennie over, then began to massage her scalp with expert precision. "My former master and his confederates. They were lieutenants in the Yakuza who were in the habit of gambling large sums of money, and had a private table reserved for those willing to wager high stakes. You joined them at midnight, and proceeded to have extraordinary luck. This unworthy slut recalls that you referred to the game as 'easy peasy lemon squeezy', at one point."

Jennie let out an involuntary moan as Keiko's fingers pressed into her neck. It was hard to believe, but her headache was just melting away under those hands. "This unworthy slut's former master wagered her when his own funds ran dry at approximately three in the morning, and lost her to you. This angered him more than the loss of funds, she believes; but once this unworthy slut's ownership was transferred to you, Mistress, your protection became one of her primary duties, and she happily disciplined her former master for the crime of attempting violence against your flawless person. The hotel became involved, and decided that discretion would be the best way to handle the situation."

Jennie sighed, her eyes half-closed from relaxation. She didn't want to get used to this, she told herself, but wow did Keiko have amazing hands. She was beginning to feel like she could actually think straight again. "And my hair? And my clothes?"

"Mistress had indulged greatly even before joining my former master's table, and you took liberal advantage of the free drinks the casino plied you with. Upon retiring for the night, you had a brief bout of violent sickness, during which time you stained both hair and clothes with vomit. This unworthy slut sent the clothes away to be dry-cleaned, but she could not dissuade Mistress from cutting the hair off instead of washing it."

"I cut off all my hair?" Jennie said, astonished. She couldn't even imagine doing that, let alone remember it.

"No, Mistress," Keiko said. "You sent for a hairdresser and charged it to the hotel."

"At 3 AM?"

"This is Las Vegas, Mistress," Keiko replied smoothly. "Any service may be had at any time for a sufficient price."

"Oh." Jennie didn't really know how else to respond to that. "So what should I do now? I mean, I have to get back and try to explain things to my cheerleading coach, and you have to go find a cop or something and explain how those Yakuza guys were holding you captive..."

Keiko's fingers froze for a moment, then continued their massage. "Mistress spoke of this last night as well, but this unworthy slut assumed that drink had left you the worse for wear. You mean you really were unaware of the nature of the men you gambled with?"

"Keiko, I wasn't even aware I was gambling with them until you told me," Jennie replied in exasperation. "The only thing I know about Yakuza is from watching TV."

Keiko's voice remained calm, but Jennie could feel her fingers trembling. "Please understand, Mistress, that the men you gambled with may not have been aware of just how innocent you were. They might have assumed you to be a rich heiress, or perhaps the daughter of an American crime boss. Even so, their losses made them reckless, or they would never have wagered this unworthy slut. She is meant as a private treasure for the most trusted of the Yakuza, and not as a stake to gamble with."

"I don't understand," Jennie said. She couldn't work up much urgency in her voice, though, not while Keiko's hands worked their way expertly down her back, leaving utterly relaxed muscles in their wake. "You're like some sort of kidnap victim, right? They were holding you against your will?"

"It is more complex than that," Keiko said. Her voice was pained, as though it was hard even to talk about it. "This unworthy slut was abducted by force, yes, but..." She trailed off for a long moment. "Forgive this unworthy slut, Mistress. It is difficult for her to remember the person she was before being instructed, but Mistress needs to know. The woman who was Keiko was instructed on the proper forms of speech and behavior by her former masters. She no longer has a will of her own, only that of her owner. She cannot think of anything but pleasing her owner. She must obey. She has no purpose but obedience. Your will is a light in the darkness of her mind, Mistress."

Jennie's eyes widened, and she shook her head. "But I can't have a slave," she said. "It's wrong! And my mom and dad would freak!" The way Keiko's fingers worked their way over the small of her back almost made her list those two in the wrong order, but Jennie tried to ignore them and focus on the morality of the situation.

"But you see, Mistress," Keiko said urgently, "the very existence of the techniques of instruction are a secret, let alone the products of such instruction. Under normal circumstances, this unworthy slut's former owner will keep silent to conceal the foolishness that led him to wager her...but if this unworthy slut were to fall into the hands of the police, the Yakuza would take great pains to ensure the silence of all involved." The way she spoke left no doubt in Jennie's mind as to exactly who would feel those pains.

"But I can't keep you!" Jennie said. "I can't!"

"Mistress said as much last night," Keiko responded. "This unworthy slut thought that she had convinced you of the benefits of owning her, but she can see that you have forgotten." Jennie felt Keiko's hands cup her buttocks, and she let out an involuntary yelp as Keiko's warm, wet tongue worked its way into her asshole.

"Wait, whoa, hold on, I don't...I mean, I've never...I don't, not with women...I...ooh!" Jennie wriggled against the silken sheets; first in an effort to pull away from Keiko's tongue, then just because she kind of needed to wriggle a little. It was different than anything she'd ever felt before (and yet, somehow, strangely familiar...) But Keiko's tongue was just as talented has her fingers had been, and Jennie found the guilt and embarrassment melting away under wave after wave of pleasure.

Keiko's hands pressed against Jennie's thighs, but they were already parting of their own accord. Jennie had never realized just how sensitive she was down there, or how erotic it would feel to have a tongue slipping around the rim of her ass. Keiko teased the pleasure out of her gently, lovingly, and Jennie let out a little moan as she felt Keiko's fingers delicately brushing against her mound.

"This unworthy slut apologizes for touching you without permission," Keiko said, momentarily lifting her mouth away from Jennie's ass, "but it is for your own good. This unworthy slut must not let you abandon her, for your own safety." Delicate, tender caresses accompanied each word, and Jennie rubbed her nipples against the smooth silk of the bedsheets as she felt her arousal build.

Keiko lavished kisses on Jennie's buttocks, her thighs, the sensitive skin of her vulva. Jennie was shaking now, a pleasant ache growing in her pussy as she felt Keiko's fingers stimulate her already-sensitized flesh. "This unworthy slut needs, mmm," and Jennie heard the pleasure in Keiko's voice, just from pleasing her, "needs to pleasure Mistress, needs to make you happy, mmmm..."

Jennie felt Keiko slide two fingers into her soaking pussy, and she clenched around them with a gasp of delight as she arched upwards into the other woman's touch. "Make you happy, Mistress, so you will keep this unworthy slut, ohhh," Keiko punctuated each phrase with a tiny kitten-lick at Jennie's clit, just enough to make her yearn for more, "keep her forever, own her and let her keep you safe, yesss..." Keiko's voice was unsteady now, and Jennie could tell the other woman was almost as close to an orgasm as she was without even being touched.

"Please, Mistress," Keiko begged, "please own this unworthy slut, please make her yours, please please please..." Jennie's pussy surged with each whimpered word, as the young girl found to her surprise that she enjoyed Keiko's submission. She never imagined doing this, feeling like this, but it was so fucking hot to feel so powerful and commanding and sensual and dominant and--

"Ohhhh!" Jennie arched her back, pressing her pussy into Keiko's face and grinding as her orgasm overwhelmed her. "Yes, oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck yes, Keiko! Yes!"