Gambit, Gamble, Bet

“Sold!” The gavel slams down, reverberating through your ears as applause flares throughout the room. A girl bows in the spotlight, dress showing off her sultry back, the slit along her legs reaching up to her hips, leaving nothing to the imagination before she saunters down the stage to her new patron. Soft piano picks up along with idle chatter, and out of the corner of your eye, the old man excitedly pats his lap, beckoning the beauty to sit. You crinkle your nose, looking as if you’ve just stuck your head in a garbage bin. Mr. Park is many things-- a prolific investor, an absent father, a greedy pervert, but the one thing you absolutely hate, is how unnecessarily fat he is. It’s like he’s never known hunger, ever. It’s something that you of all people could’t possibly understand. Buttons bulging in his suit, Mr Park’s sweaty fingers palm the ass of his newest toy, the much younger girl giggling on his lap. The old man makes it a point to look back in your direction, mouthing “another one”.

Of course, he isn’t looking at you, but rather, at your boss, sprawled out on the velvet couch you flank. Scantily clad waitresses separate him and the old man, dashing to each sofa, refilling wine, laughing at bad jokes, blushing as they’re groped by the elite. Such a sight would distract most, but you know your boss, arms laid back on his sides, a girl between his legs, and eyes still locked on the old man across the room, regarding him with cold disdain.

With a ‘pop’, Sana takes her owner’s cock out her mouth. Her voice is a sweet drawl, small hands still massaging his balls. “Sir, don’t mind him! Miyeon won’t be close to as good as me, promise!” You wince, almost feeling bad for the girl. She’s been working for a while now, but she obviously still has some things to learn. You watch as your boss reaches down to caress Sana’s head, his fingers slowly balling her hair into a bun. Sana smiles, leaning into his palm, like she’s a girlfriend about to be pampered, not a common slave. You chuckle, mistake number two.

“Shut up, slut.” Your boss’ voice is a low growl, the girl’s eyes widening as her head is violently fucked onto his waiting shaft. He fucks her mouth like she’s a fleshlight, wet gags exiting her throat as her fingers try to grab what they can of the satin couch. The entire time, his gaze stays on Mr. Park, as if daring him to do better, to dominate Miyeon into submission in the same, cruel way. You feel eyes on you, the other clients in the room craning their necks to watch the silent standoff. For the more experienced and powerful, the focus is on the increasingly tense stare-off between your boss and old Mr. Park. For the young, or as you like to call them, the undeserving, born into money, they stare at Sana, her eyes tearing up as she can do nothing but let out meek moans while her tight throat is used, the beautiful woman reduced to a small power play in this grand, underground chessboard.

As much as you’d love to let your boss have his fun, you have to remind him that you’re here for business. His money is yours, after all, and who else will keep him on track? You lean over the back of the low couch, whispering into his ear, “Sir, maybe that’s enough. It’s almost time.” His hand freezes, and you can almost feel the entire room hold its breath. Sana’s eyes dart towards you, as if saying: ‘You must be crazy’. But you don’t care. If you were afraid of Mr. Shin, you’d still be begging on the street, your ass sore from sleeping on wet cardboard. He’s your boss, not your god, and you only get to stand here because you have one job that you do really, really well, well enough to be dragged off the street and into this lucrative, risky life. Mr. Shin breaks eye contact with the old man, and the entire room exhales. Waitresses start asking if anyone wants more drinks, the jazz band picks up a more energetic piece, and the sound of laughter slowly bleeds into noisy chatter.

“You’re sure?” your boss asks, dark eyes locked onto your own as he keeps Sana flush against his crotch. You ignore the gagging woman, spit streaming down her cock-stuffed lips as you stare cooly into her master’s eyes. “Yes, the next one’s the one you want.” He grunts, a cute moan emanating from below as he finally lets Sana free, crossing his arms, staring at you sideways, “Fine. The old man better contest me for this one, make it interesting.”

“I’m more worried about the MC, sir. Haven’t you noticed? She’s worse than usual.” you reply, brow creasing as you look up at the stage. A fumbling girl stands alone to the side. Normally, standing in the spotlight is forbidden, a right only afforded to the high-class slaves to be sold. But Ningning is so ordinary, so painfully mediocre, that honestly, nobody really cares that she’s standing there. Dressed in a gray one-piece that leaves little to the imagination, Ningning’s legs shiver in the cold, and you watch as her eyes stay pointed at the cue cards, lips muttering as she practices her next lines. Your boss follows your gaze, and chuckles. Sana lets out a high-pitched giggle a moment after, like she looked between you two, checked if it was okay, then decided to laugh. “That nobody? Please. She wouldn’t dare” His words hang in the air, and you suppress the urge to roll your eyes. It’s a wonder that Mr. Shin is still alive, being this arrogant. Though you have to give him credit, if he can make statements like that at the blink of an eye, it just shows that his balls have definitely taken him way farther than someone like you could expect. You shake your head, sighing, “Alright sir, I simply thought it would be good to warn you.” He snaps back, “If you’re going to worry about useless stuff, worry about Irene. I need that bitch healthy.”

Ah, Irene. Your hand comes up to massage your temple. The woman just hit 30, and is the first of Mr. Shin’s slaves to be bred. You remember the sound of her begging reverberating through the mansion walls, your boss relishing in pushing his cock into her wet snatch over and over again, seeding the beautiful, naked woman for weeks on end. Irene carries herself with a sort of quiet dignity, as if she’s ready for the responsibility of a wife, not a slave, and that carries over to how she treats her pregnancy, sitting out auction day at home, leaving Sana, her competitor, to please her master. If you could choose, you’d rather that none of them got pregnant, it’s just another headache to deal with, another item to cross off your very long list of issues to handle as Mr. Shin’s assistant. But a man needs a son, and if there’s one thing you know about your boss, it’s that he never stops until he gets what he wants.

“Yes sir, i’ll have her checked again once we get home.” You curtly reply, and Mr. Shin throws his head back against the couch headrest. “This slut better be as good as you say.” You smirk, “I’ve never failed you sir, and don’t worry, I'm sure you’ll like this one.”

The warm lighting dims, idle chatter in the surrounding couches dying down as the jazz band finishes their last song. You step back behind the couch, Sana slinking up to drape her leg over Mr. Shin’s, kissing his neck as she keeps one eye on the show. Waitresses scurry around like ants as they rush to line up at the back of the club. Nobody can restrict the guests’ view. That’s the rule.

“Ahem, yes! W-we hope you enjoyed your drinks dear patrons, and congratulations again to Mr. Park , who won the auction for Miyeon. The house thanks him for his support.” Ningning stutters, her voice rising and falling with her nervousness, legs rubbing against each other as she shuffles in place. Mr. Park stands, the room erupting in applause as the spotlight momentarily moves over to his seat. Miyeon looks up at her master, her tits hanging out of her dress, lips curved into a smile as a line of white dribbles from the corner of her mouth. Sana starts grinding her clothed crotch on your boss’ thigh, trying to distract him from the sight. You swear that you can see the veins on his neck pulsing, and you silently will Ningning to get the next damn round started before he explodes.

The girl slaps the mic a few times, and when the crowd focuses more on Miyeon than on her, you watch as she takes a deep breath, and starts, “A-alright! So the next star to be sold is named Winter.” The spotlight is back on the front now, and 200 heads swivel at the unconventional name. Stage names like that usually mean that the girl is drop dead gorgeous, or needs the glamor to cover up how little her body has to offer. Mr. Shin looks up at you expectedly, and you give him a small nod. This is it. Let’s see if your bet is right.

Ningning continues, no longer bouncing on the balls of her feet, her voice more even, “25 years young, with silky smooth skin, goddess-like proportions, and eyes that can pierce any man’s heart. Winter is one of the highlights of our 2026 class.” You watch out of the corner of your eye as Mr. Park takes Miyeon’s hard nipple out of his mouth, the tip still shimmering with spit as the old man turns his attention to the stage. Shit, your boss can outbid anyone, but that ancient fuck is going to be a very big problem if he gets involved. Let’s just say that if the two get into a bidding war here, they might very well raise enough cash to send a small country into bankruptcy.

“Perky breasts, pink in just the right places, with a petite ass that would look lovely bouncing on any of your cocks. Can’t you imagine it?” Ningning is doing better now, a faint smile dancing on her lips. She looks like she’s dreaming about Winter, and you can’t help but be just a little bit impressed. Even the crowd has bought into her very vivid daydream, patrons pushing their toys aside to lean forward in their seats. It’s rare that younger slaves get sold, Sana was already a catch a few years prior at 26. And as far as any of them know, this elusive Winter wasn’t on the list of offers for tonight.

“How far can I go without pushing it?” Mr. Shin barks, looking up at you expectantly. “In-the-money assets have been liquidated, sir. You have up to a billion.” He smiles, a wide, toothy grin, like a child given a new toy. “And that old geezer? Can he contest?” You gulp, shaking your head. The older man cooly stares at you, hand around Sana’s hip, “I’ll hold you to that, boy.” You know he means it too. He hasn’t gotten to play at all tonight, he’s practically bursting to get involed. Out of the corner of your eye, an older butler presents a tablet to Mr. Park. The old man snaps at him, jabbing a pudgy finger at the screen, Miyeon’s hair scrunched up in his other hand, the beautiful girl choking on his length. You sigh, good, your math should be right. He overextended himself. Miyeon has wrung him dry, financially, of course. Your boss notices, leaning forward with a hungry glint in his eye. Sana slings her arm around his, obediently looking towards the stage. She hates it. Hates being second yet again, even without Irene here, but distracting him at this crucial moment would be suicide.

You look back at the stage, Ningning now in the background, fingers tight on the velvet curtain separating the audience from their prize. Her eyes flit between Mr. Shin and Mr. Park, smiling nervously as she waits, building suspense. Smart girl, she knows who the frontrunners are. The knuckle of your thumb taps on your clipboard, clutched at your side. Unconsciously, you start standing just a little bit taller. Can’t let them see, but you’ve been working months for this. If what you’ve heard about this girl is true, it might be enough for Mr. Shin to finally, finally give it to you… maybe then, you can-

You’re jolted to attention by the sound of Ningning’s voice. She clears her throat, and the excited chatter quiets, “W-well, I can feel how much our lovely patrons want to see Winter! We won’t keep you waiting any longer, drumroll p-please!” Ningning waves her arm flamboyantly, and the low drill beat starts, her other hand gripping the curtain. Sana rubs Mr Shin’s back, his hands are on his knees, the deep obsidian of his eyes focused on the white circle of light on the stage. You nod approvingly, his investment only spelling better for you. To check, you look over at the other side of the room, but your breath catches in your throat. Mr. Park is there. Red, sweat beading on his forehead, pants unbuttoned around his waist, but very much still in a dealing room he shouldn’t be able to afford. Sana shoots you a look, eyes wide with fear. No, he should’ve left. That was the plan. How could he have found the money to bid? Your eyes flash to your boss, he’s oblivious. Of course, he didn’t know about your little planting of Miyeon into the auctionhouse, or how Sana helped by having her best friend join last minute. How could you have confessed? Keeping a beautiful woman from him is a cardinal sin. A sin that now, both you and Sana share. You nod at the terrified idol, motioning with your hand for her to continue keeping Mr. Shin’s focus on the stage. She shakily turns back towards him, carressing his back, the shake in her shoulders invisible in the dark light. You’re too deep into this now, you’ll just have to hope he can win the bidding.

Ningning’s bright, clear voice rings out in your ears, “Introducing, Winter!”

It’s as if the whole room holds its breath. With a dramatic whoosh, the anxious host whips open the curtain. You crane your neck, the darkness of backstage seemingly unending, before a long, creamy white leg pushes through the curtains. Winter walks forward, sultry hips swaying, a soft smile on her beautiful lips as she looks from side to side. Breath caught in your throat, you can’t help but forget about the tenseness of the situation. She’s gorgeous. Dark auburn hair frames her pear-shaped face, smoky eyes the perfect mix of playful and soft, betraying no ounce of unease, like you could melt into them and feel nothing but calm. The spotlight highlights her delicious looking collarbone, the white dress accentuating her perfect, perky tits, the flowing fabric tracing down to an ass that’s both petite and shapely. For what feels like forever, the click-clack of her heels is all you hear, until finally, Winter stands in the middle of the stage, hands behind her back, slowly swaying from side to side. She smiles at the audience, as if she can’t wait to be chosen.

You look down at your millionare overlord. His mouth is watering. No, literally. A small spickle of drool falls onto the carpet, his dark eyes full of want even as Sana quickly dabs his lips with a hankerchief. Mr. Shin looks back, reaching to clasp your hand, those same eyes drilling into you. “Good work boy, very good.” You cough out, “Thank you sir, but it isn’t done yet. Look.” He snaps back in the direction of your pointed gaze. Mr. Park’s practically devouring Winter with those beady little pupils. The old man slaps Miyeon away when she tries to kiss up his neck, the shocked girl resigning herself to sit quietly next to him. Your boss nods, a feral grin stretching up his face. He’s ready for a fight.

The audience starts chattering, other patrons checking their pockets, no doubt ready to stretch their budgets for this very special prize. Ningning, as if to cut through the tension, quickly squeaks out, “Wow! Aren’t you a total hottie? Talk about impact! Winter, can you introduce yourself for our guests?” Winter giggles at the compliment, an adorable, high sound as she shyly tucks a strand of dark red hair behind her ear. She leans forward like a princess, a practiced hand on her chest to keep her dress from revealing more than what is paid for. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all, gentlemen. I’ll keep it short! I like doing my talking, a bit differently…” She winks, light catching on dark lashes as she smiles at every deplorable, needy man in the room. She’s good. Very, good. “You’re all very powerful people, but all this time, you’ve been stuck with slaves.” Winter spits out that last part, and eyes widen at the venom. She starts slowly walking around the stage, sharp heels following the edge of the spotlight, making sure that everyone sees her lithe legs and breedable, still swaying, hips. She stops, pointedly flashing both Mr. Shin and Mr. Park a knowing smile, “You need more, don’t you?” You see both men gulp, older, seasoned hands twitching. She bites her lip, eyes slowly going between the two men, as if she knows that no matter what, she’s leaving with one of the two juggernauts tonight. “You need a queen, someone to rule beside you, someone to properly breed.” Winter sings out that last part, subtly rubbing her milky thighs together, eyes lighting up with a playful fire, “I have the taste to serve you not as a slave, but as a wife… I’ll bear proper heirs, children that fit your legacy." Her hands trace her hips, Winter’s eyes flutter shut, lips stretched in a smile— like she can see it. Mr. Park can barely button up his slacks. Mr. Shin shakes with excitement.

“So pay up, daddies.”

Silence, Winter’s soft, singsong voice reverberating. You close your eyes. That’ll be the kicker. Lively jazz fills the hall, patrons shout out numbers, suits scramble behind every couch, it’s a brawl. You sigh, glancing down at your employer. He grins, “Time to move, boy. This one’s mine.”

“500 million!” Mr Park’s aged voice croaks out. The crowd erupts in applause, men shifting in their seats, draping arms over the couches to get a glimpse of his raised hand. They’ve abandoned any attempt to participate. This is entertainment now. Miyeon kneels between his legs, turning around to wipe a line of cum from her lips, clapping cutely. She’s bought into her role as an adornment to this little show. But it’s not done yet.

Ningning’s face lights up at the number, rushing forward to the mic to wave in the bet. Winter calmly grabs her arm, holding her colleague back, smirking as she nods towards your table. You raise an eyebrow, this one really is sharper than the rest. Mr. Shin laughs, pointing a finger at the girl, “You know me already, whore. 750 million!” Winter’s mouth opens in a shocked ‘o’, before she nods cutely at the number, and your boss stands up, Sana left behind on the couch, now pointing across the room. “You’re not fit for this shit you old fuck, counter that!” Somehow, Mr. Park’s face gets even redder. You start shifting in place. Hoots and hollers fill the hall, the mob of millionaires love it— the competition of it all, the race to see who can plop their financial cock on the table and claim the rarest reward this dealing room has seen for quite awhile, and they can feel that it’s about to end. You smile, that should finsih it, and still below 1 billion, Mr. Park should run out soon, right? No, he will, he has to.

Ningning hops up to the mic, “Thank you so so much, sir! Any counters? Come on! I’m sure someone out there can do better.” She waves her arms in the air, exaggerating the movement with those cute, round eyes, dragging the word “someone” out. You’ve got to give it to the girl, you thought that she’d be sent to the back, replaced, but it’s obvious that someone else behind the system has seen her talent for drawing everyone into the moment. Ningning’s cute lips purse in a pout, an arm wrapped around Winter’s shoulder, her other hand shielding her eyes from the light as she looks around the room, stopping when she faces Mr. Park. “Anyoneee?”

The old geezer huffs, those beady eyes flitting from side to side, Miyeon forgotten, head down, slinking to his side. Assistants flit about behind him, the dull thump of leather on the carpet like an army of ants squiggling around. Silence fills the room. You lean forward, knuckles white on the back of the couch. It should be done.

Ningning laughs, a high, pure, sound of relief. Winter breathing heavy beside her, the ever confident woman eyeing your boss, biting her lip. Your giggling host holds the mic close, raising a finger in the air.

“Going once?”

Mr. Park scrambles to his feet, grabbing his assistant by the tie, spit flying from his lips, barking unintelligable, frenzied orders.

“Going twice?”

Mr. Shin stands up, holding Sana by the hip, and turns back. He grins, squeezing your hand. You can barely see the whites of his eyes. Your heart’s beating out of your chest, it’s here. You’ve won.

“Going thrice?”

Your boss spreads his arms, laughing, relishing Mr. Park plopping down on the couch, pants still pooling around his legs, his balding head down, defeated.

“And that’ll be it! Sold to the gentleman on the righ-”

“1.5 billion!”

You blink.

What?

“1.5 billion! Give her over. Give!” An aged, slimy voice growls. Your boss lowers his hands, not smiling anymore. It’s Mr. Park, with a mysterious, new tablet in hand. A masked woman in a red suit saunters from his side into the dark, and before you can form any questions in your head, you’re met with the sight of the derelict old man waving his pudgy finger in the air, hopping in place like a baboon. Winter freezes, incredulous, shoulders stiff, slowly retracting her outstreched leg and standing back in the spotlight. Ningning quietly stutters, “W-wow! A large bid from… from Mr. Park in the back. Any counters?” She says that last part hopefully, as if Winter’s a friend she wouldn’t want trapped with someone like him.

Dark eyes glare at you.. Ah, the chill. You’ve felt this before. “Boy? Get me more. Now.” You instinctively lower your head, flipping through the clipboard, sweat dripping onto the pages. A lump rises in your throat. You can’t look him in the face. “S-sir, we can’t.”

White hot pain streaks across your cheek. The crowd gasps, the sound of the slap reverberating through the room. Ningning shrieks in the background. You’re on your knees, seeing spots. The carpet’s real soft down here.

Mr. Shin grabs you by the throat, and before you know it, you’re gasping for air, “What did you say?” Spectators stay silent, averting their gaze. Even Mr. Park, in all his smugness, looks away. “There’s no more, sir. You aren’t liquid enough, you just bought Sana last week. The business doesn’t have-” The wind is knocked out of you as the furious oligarch painfully slams you into the ground. The others still won’t look. You hate it. Hate how powerless you feel. For every inch of power he’s given you over his empire, in the end, you still can’t remember a reality where you haven’t felt this way— haven’t felt this useless.

Mr. Shin brings you back up, rearing his arm for another. You claw at his hand, feeling a wet spat of blood at the back of your head. No.

“P-please stop! Violence isn’t…” Ningning starts, and your blurry vision focuses on the stage. You open your mouth, but nothing’s coming out. You want to tell her to shut up, not to cross him, or he’ll- “Spit it out, bitch.” Your boss’ cold voice rings out. He’s still holding you, muscular fingers pressing marks into the sides of your throat.

Ningning clears her throat, as if to muster something she isn’t sure is there. She breathes slowly, and sets her feet. “Violence isn’t allowed sir. Stop.”

It feels like an eternity, the way that they stare at each other. Patrons look between the lowly host and one of the most powerful among them, nobody daring to make a sound. Waiters freeze, arms tilting under large platters, bodies stiff in place. You can’t believe that someone would actually have the balls to stand up to Mr. Shin— someone you’ve only ever known as undefiable, someone you’ve seen tell men to die, with said men unable to do anything but press the gun to their temples and close their eyes. Ningning’s been stumbling along with you through every auction. Sure, you didn’t think she’d ever amount to much, but now? The shame burns, you can’t let him get her too. You weakly grab at the hand around your throat, and your boss cocks his head, the vein in his neck bursting, before his mouth widens in an evil, scheming grin.

With a thud, he drops you on your ass, before sauntering up to the stage. The audience watches him, and Mr. Park walks up, a nervous laugh, wagging a finger, “Ha! You must work on that temper, your father never had it.” You massage the skin around your throat, red marks from his nails stinging, watching as your abuser ignores his opponent, grabbing Ningning by the cheeks, his thumb circling her lip.

The girl’s frozen, teary eyes darting to Winter, who slinks back to the edge of the spotlight, abandoning her friend. Mr. Shin squints, the wild smile still on his face, “We’ll see if you’ll keep that attitude, slut.” He lets Ningning go, and the girl stumbles back to hug Winter’’s arm. Mr. Shin then slowly turns to the old man in the corner, “You’ve won this time, old man. But what if I told you that i’m willing to part with someone better trained. Untouched, down there, of course.”

Sana starts shaking in front of you, and Mr. Park eyes her, the drool slipping from his lips. She was the one that started their little rivalry, that embarrassing defeat a few months ago the reason he sold one of his companies. She’s young, with the brunette look everyone knows is his type, but still- to give up Winter? The skeptical veteran creases his brow, “You wouldn’t. There’s a catch.”