You Can Bet Your Ass
Angela DeVere, tall elegant and beautiful, was queen of the casino. At thirty eight she had earned her reputation as a formidable professional gambler. She didn’t mind other professionals and she tolerated the hapless vacationers who came to blow their hard earned cash in the casino. But the people who really infuriated her beyond reason were amateur would-be professionals who risked ruining the games for everyone, and the pretty young girl sat next to her at the blackjack table was starting to make her really angry. Angela had never seen such an obvious and inept attempt at card counting. Eventually she couldn’t take any more and it looked like the croupier was also tiring of the young amateur’s antics. With a deep sigh Angela decided she would have to take a hand.
The bumbling girl, Megan Jones, was the daughter of a professional gambler in the UK. She had grown up happily with her parents in Wales and her father had started to teach her his skills. But before he could pass on the true art of his profession he had been killed in a car accident and Megan had been left bereft and determined to fulfil her father’s wish that she should follow in his footsteps.
Megan's father had spent years honing and perfecting his skills and his daughter was hungry to match his success, too hungry, and so, inexperienced and naive she had come to Las Vegas, determined to make her mark.
“Come with me Honey,” said Angela taking hold of Megan’s elbow. “You really need a comfort break.”
Despite her elegance, Angela was a powerful woman and Megan barely had time to grab her small pile of chips before she was bundled towards the restroom. Once inside she shook herself free and turned on her assailant.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m saving your ass kid,” said Angela. “Hey, what kind of accent is that, English?”
“No it’s not,” snapped Megan. “As a matter of fact I’m from Cardiff.”
Angela looked blank.
“Cardiff,” repeated Megan, “in Wales.”
“Ok honey, but I’ve got to tell you that looking gorgeous and having a cute accent, isn’t enough to make it in Vegas. You’re a hair's breadth away from being thrown out of the casino and being banned from gambling anywhere in town. You’re just not ready to play with the big kids. So turn around and get your ass out of town. Go back to Little Rock and learn your trade properly.”
“It’s not Little Rock,” snarled Megan. “I’m from Cardiff. And my dad was a professional gambler, so don’t tell me I don’t know my trade!”
“Listen kid,” said Angela, patiently. “The sharks in this town will have the shirt off your back before you know what’s happening. But if you’re so convinced that you know what you’re doing, come on up to my room and I’ll give you a simple game that will show if you’re ready or not.”
“Why should I?” said Megan. “I have nothing to prove.”
Angela tipped her head to the side and smiled cynically. “I saw the room card in your purse kid so I know you’re staying here at the hotel and that’s not cheap. And I guess, looking at the tiny pile of chips you were playing with, you’re already running out of cash. So here’s what I’ll do. We’ll play a single game of chance and I’ll wager two thousand dollars against that cute little black dress you’re wearing, that you just don't belong in this town. Now doesn’t that sound tempting?”
Megan mulled over Angela's offer for a moment but the she knew she had little choice. She had only been in town for two days and her funds were nearly gone. She shrugged her shoulders and warily followed the gambler up to her room. Two thousand dollars would be really useful and anyway she had to show this overbearing bitch that she really was ready for Vegas.
Angela's hotel room surprised her. It was larger and more richly furnished than Megan's. There were two easy chairs, one on either side of a coffee table. Megan took a seat while Angela spread a red silk handkerchief out on the coffee table then poured out three dice from a little velvet bag.
“Here’s the rules,” said Angela. “You can select any one of these dice, they are all different, and I will select one of the remaining two. We roll the dice and the highest score wins one point. The first player to win five points wins the game. It’s that simple.”
Megan looked at the curious dice and knew she had to choose wisely. She picked each one up and rolled it gently on the palm of her hand as she had seen her father do when she was a child.
“If someone offers you a game of dice princess,” he had said, “always check that the dice aren’t rigged.”
Unfortunately Megan didn’t really know what she was looking for and the dice all felt the same to her so she supposed they must be OK. The only strange thing was the number of spots on each face. One die had all fours except one face that had a one. The second die had a single six and the other faces were threes. The last die had twos and fives.
“I’ll take this one,” she said, “picking the die with a six.” A lifetime of playing with standard dice had ingrained the idea that if you’re looking for a high score then you want to roll a six.
“Good choice,” said Angela. “I’ll take this one.” She picked up the dice with fours and a one.
Angela smoothed out the silk cloth and rolled her die onto it. It came up with a four. Nervously Megan rolled hers. Suddenly gambling on a six didn’t seem like such a good idea and sure enough, she threw a three. Angela had taken the first point. Megan nibbled her lip nervously. After four throws Megan knew for sure she had blundered. Angela had taken every point but on the next throw Megan won. On the sixth throw she won again and her confidence started to return. But a second later it was over. Angela took her fifth point and the game was lost.
Angela sat back and smiled. “Ok Honey, time to pay up. I’ll take that dress now.”
“Y… You’re joking,” said Megan. “Let me go back to my room and change.”
“No way,” said Angela. “I told you, you weren’t ready to play with the big kids and you'd lose the shirt off your back. Now pay up or get out of town.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” snapped Megan angrily, “and I always honour my wagers.”
Megan remembered two golden rules that her father had insisted she live by – only bet what you’re willing to lose and never renege on a bet.
Furious and with tears welling up in her eyes, she unzipped the dress and glowing with humiliation she peeled off down to her pretty pink underwear. Sulkily she tossed the dress onto the bed.
“Now, lend me a dressing gown so I can get back to my room,” she demanded.
“Sorry Honey, that wasn’t part of the deal. You have a good figure and a pretty face, I’m sure the other guests won’t mind you running through the hotel just as you are.”
“You’ve got to be joking,” wailed Megan. “I can’t leave like this. Look, how about double or quits?”
“You want to play again? Haven’t you learned your lesson? And anyway what have you got left to wager?”
“What do you want with my dress anyway?” sneered Megan bitterly. “It won’t even fit you.”
Angela’s face turned to thunder. “Are you calling me fat? OK, I’ll play you again, brat, but this is the deal. If you win you get the dress back but if I win you go over my knee for the spanking of your life! And believe me kid you’re going to get it long and hard.”
“A spanking?” cried Megan in disbelief. “I’m not a child. I’m twenty one.”
“Well that’s the only deal on the table,” said Angela. “You shouldn’t have called me fat.”
Megan weighed up her options. She didn’t want to leave the room in her underwear but a spanking? The idea was crazy. On the other hand, she had the advantage now. She’d seen Angela win the game by a mile so if she picked Angela's winning die, how could she lose?
“Ok,” she said. “You’ve got a deal.”
Megan sat down and immediately snatched up the die that Angela had used. “I’ll take this one,” she said smugly.
“I see,” said Angela. “I suppose you think you’re clever taking the one that I used, and maybe you are, we’ll have to see.” Angela picked up the twos and fives die.
On the first two rolls Angela won the points and a lead weight dropped in Megan’s stomach. She suddenly became very conscious of her bottom and how vulnerable it felt with only her panties to protect her. By the fifth roll she was losing, one point to Angela’s four. Then her luck changed and she won the next two points, but that was the end of her good luck. On the eighth roll Angela won and took the game.
Megan stared at the dice in horror.
“C… Can’t we come to some arrangement,” she whined.
“Sure we can,” grinned Angela. “You can arrange yourself over my knee and I can arrange to spank your ass ‘till its smoking.”
Megan showed no sign of moving on her own so Angela stood and took hold of her wrist. She towed the trembling girl over to the bed then she sat down and patted her thighs. Reluctantly Megan lowered herself into position. She had never felt so humiliated in her life.
Angela pinned Megan in place with an arm over her naked waist then she stroked her bottom, feeling the soft cloth of her panties. “You’ve been a very naughty girl,” purred Angela. “I’m going to have to punish you very severely indeed.”
Megan had no chance to protest before the first smack landed, sending a shock of pain through her right cheek and causing her to wince and kick her legs. When nature endowed Angela with her Amazonian figure it was equally generous with her strength and she intended to use it to full advantage in spanking this impudent brat.
Smack after smack landed in rapid succession and in no time Megan’s bottom was blazing and tears were running down her cheeks. Angela was tempted to pull down Megan’s pants and really let her have it but that wasn’t part of the wager. So keeping a tight hold on the struggling minx she contented herself with landing most of the smacks on Megan’s exposed lower cheeks with as much strength as she could muster.
Megan howled as the sting in her bottom rapidly became agonising. She tried to reach back but Angela grabbed her wrist and pinned it out of the way. For two more minutes Megan’s bottom was thrashed with a ferocious storm of relentless spanking, but eventually Angela began to tire and the sting in her hand became so intolerable that reluctantly she had to end the punishment.
Megan just lay bawling over Angela’s knee. Angela helped her stand and handed her a tissue. Megan gulped back her sobs. She dabbed at her eyes with one hand and tenderly stroked her stinging bottom with the other. The pain and humiliation were unbearable and she was just about to beg again for a dressing gown to hide her shame when Angela grabbed her by the arm, bundled her over to the door and shoving her purse in her hand, propelled her out into the corridor with another smack to her blazing tail.
“Better get running kid,” she laughed. “A girl could get in trouble standing around like that.” Then she slammed the door shut.
Megan stared about in panic then hurried back to her room. She daren’t risk the lift, she didn’t know who might appear so she made her way down the staircase and across to the other side of the hotel. She arrived at her room unseen and struggled with the lock. A door opened further down the corridor and a porter stepped out. Megan’s face flushed nearly as red as her bottom. The porter gave her an appraising look and obviously liked what he saw. Then his eyes bulged as his gaze fixed on her well spanked cheeks.
Megan shuffled uncomfortably. “What the hell are you staring at,” she said bitterly. “Haven’t you seen a woman in her underwear before?”
“Sorry Miss,” laughed the porter. “I thought your ass was on fire.”
“Damned right it is,” mumbled Megan as she pushed her way into her room.
That night Megan slept on her tummy with her bottom exposed to the cooling night air.
The next morning, sitting uncomfortably at breakfast, she had time to think about the previous day’s events and in a flash of inspiration she knew what she had to do. Setting out into town, she toured the shops until she spotted what she needed. She bought the biggest, hardest, heaviest hairbrush she could find. She was going to teach Angela DeVere the meaning of a real spanking.
That evening Megan accosted Angela as she came out of the hotel restaurant.
“I want another game,” she said.
Angela looked startled. “I thought you’d gone home to Cardiff,” she said. “You’re like an annoying pup snapping at my ankles.”
The two girls headed back to Angela’s room and once again the dice were brought out.
“You see,” said Megan, “I’ve worked out your little scheme. When I picked a dice, you picked one with a higher probability of winning. You played with an underhand advantage. You’re a cheat!”
“A cheat? That’s a pretty damning accusation,” said Angela, “and how could I know you wouldn’t pick the one with the best chance of winning? But suppose it’s true, and I’m not saying it is, why have you come back?”
“I knew you wouldn’t admit to cheating,” said Megan. “So this is what I propose. I will use the twos and fives die that you won with yesterday and you will use the one I lost with. If you’re not a cheat then you have nothing to fear.”
“And what are you hoping to win?”
“If I win I get my dress back and…” Megan produced the hairbrush. She tapped it against her hand. “… and I get to give you the spanking of your life.”
“Interesting,” said Angela, with a mischievous smile, “I’m almost tempted to lose, but I think this time I’m going to have to teach you a proper lesson; one you’ll never forget. I accept your wager but I have some conditions of my own. Since you’re so convinced those dice are fixed, let me prove my innocence. Let me increase the power you imagine they have. We’ll use the dice just like you said but we’ll throw each die twice and add the two scores together to see who wins. And when I win I don’t just want the dress you’re wearing, this time I want every stitch of clothing you have on, and you go back over my knee for a spanking that will make last night’s little affair feel like a warm breeze.
Angela’s conditions made Megan wince at the reminder of that stinging spanking but she was absolutely convinced she was going to win. Her backside was still sore and she had looked forward to taking her revenge on Angela every painful time she’d sat down throughout the day. She couldn’t back down now. If she was a professional gambler then now was the time to put her money where her mouth was.
On the first throw with the fives and twos, Megan scored a total of seven and Angela’s fours and one scored eight. The same thing happened on the second throw and Megan started to worry. But then, Megan won the next three throws one after the other and went into the lead. She grinned at Angela and mimed the act of putting her over her knee and giving a sound spanking. She was sure victory was within her grasp. Angela smiled at the performance and threw the die again. This time Angela won bringing the score to three wins each. Then with two more throws Angela swept to victory and the colour drained from Megan's face.
Angela sat back grinning while Megan tearfully went through the acute embarrassment of standing and stripping in front of her. Mortified with humiliation, Megan slowly slipped out of her dress and unfastened her bra revealing her pert breasts. She looked pleadingly at Angela but was rewarded with a cruel smile. Petulantly Megan kicked off her shoes then choking back the tears she peeled away her stockings.
When Megan was nearly naked, Angela strode over to the bed, picked up the hairbrush and sat down. “Now my little brat,” she said, tapping the brush against her hand, “panties off!”
This time there was no sore hand to bring Megan’s punishment to a premature end. Angela paddled her mercilessly with the hairbrush for a full five minutes while the naked girl writhed, kicked and howled over her knee. Every inch of Megan’s bare bottom was seared by the loud splat and smack of the brush and her flesh turned a deep and vivid red.
Finally, naked as the day she was born and sobbing uncontrollably, Megan was dragged over to the door and expelled from the room. A second later Angela threw out Megan's purse and a hand towel as a small mercy for Megan to try to cover her embarrassment.
The scramble back to her room was a nightmare for Megan. She clutched the towel to her breasts with one hand and let it dangle down to her thighs. She made a fruitless attempt to cover her bottom with her purse as she scuttled along the corridor.
The next day Megan set off back to Cardiff. Making the long journey with such a sore bottom would be a nightmare but she had lost her credibility at the hotel, not to mention her dignity, and she couldn’t face another day in Vegas. She knew Angela had been right. She had been a silly little girl who deserved to be spanked for getting too big for her boots. But she would practice, practice, practice, and one day soon she would return.
She stood in the airport departure lounge gently rubbing her bottom. “I’ll be back, Angela DeVere,” she muttered. “And you’d better watch out lady because your ass is going to be toast.
How Angela did it - for readers who don't mind a bit of maths-speak
The dice used in the story are real. They are an example of non-transitive dice. The numbers have been arranged in such a way that when two dice are rolled, die A (1,4,4,4,4,4) has a greater probability of winning than die B (6,3,3,3,3,3), die B has a greater probability of winning than die C (2,2,2,5,5,5), but amazingly die C has a greater probability of winning than die A. So whichever die Megan chose, Angela was able to pick one with a better chance of winning. However, if the dice are rolled twice and the scores added then the probability of a win reverses. The rolls detailed in the story actually took place in a simulation and the dice allocated to Angela’s character really did win all three games as described. You can read about the dice here if you wish, and they can be purchased here. But for anyone unprincipled enough to use the dice the way Angela did, remember, you can still lose.