The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Expert Card Technique

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Martin and his wife Helen discover that the key to winning in games of chance is expert card technique. The key is in knowing what sort of expertise to have.

Martin had a great idea. His wife, Helen, had been after him to help out with many of the household chores. He, on the other hand, had been trying to get Helen to do some fun stuff in bed. He might have worked out a trade. But he had a better idea. In college, he had been an expert card player; he managed to pay off a lot of his living expenses off his winnings from his fellow students. Poker, blackjack, gin rummy, whatever, he knew the cards and he knew the people, and he always came out ahead. But he had never bothered to mention it to Helen. But now, it would pay off.

“I’m bored,” he said. “Want to play some cards?”

“OK,” said Helen. “What do you want to play?”

“How about gin?” asked Martin.

“Sounds OK to me,” replied Helen.

So they sat down. Helen was, in fact, a mediocre player at best, but Martin played even worse. He was also able to disguise his bad play, so that Helen did not catch on that he was losing on purpose. He moaned at the appropriate places, and saw how pleased Helen was when she won. At the end of the evening, Helen was up by 800 points.

A couple of evenings later, Martin brought up the topic of cards, again. Helen was quite agreeable, and, once again, she started to win. But then, Martin started playing normally, and Helen started to lose. She was only about 100 points ahead for the evening when Martin said, “You know, this can get boring. Maybe we can bet something.”

“Well, money won’t make a difference.” replied Helen. “I make about the same as you do, and we share it all, anyway. Well, there ARE those jobs that need doing around the house!” she said with a smile.

And THAT was just the opening that Martin needed. “Well, there’s those things that I want you to do in the bedroom! Why don’t we write down a few things, set point values to them, and, when we agree on point values, play for those? We have the option of using our own points to buy off things we want to do less?”

“Sounds like fun,” said Helen. “OK, you’re on.”

Martin didn’t want to be too obvious too soon. He let her win a few times, and had to do a number of household chores, but they were things he should have been doing, anyway. And, when he used some of HIS points to get a blow job, surprisingly, she didn’t try to buy it back. And THAT was certainly worth fixing the gutters. In any case, he started winning more, and more. This was fun; he was getting to the point where he was back to the way he was, and Helen was REALLY getting better at some of the bedroom antics. It was especially nice, last night, when Helen licked his feet. He was beginning to run out of ideas, but then realized that he didn’t have to settle for one-time favors. One evening, on his list, he said, “OK, for 500 points, you call me ‘Master’ for a week.” Helen agreed, lost, and Martin found that he liked the idea of having a slave girl. Helen, on the other hand, finally caught on to the fact that she was not about to win at gin, and switched to poker. It didn’t matter; Martin did the same thing. He allowed Helen to catch up a little at first, then, slowly but surely, let loose his own skill with cards.

This was working better than he thought. Helen was becoming his own personal sex slave at night. Helen seemed to be into it, as well. Then, one day, he saw her putting a book into her briefcase. He caught a glimpse of the title: EXPERT CARD TECHNIQUE, by Jean Hugard. This was great. She was going to read up on playing cards. He knew that book knowledge was no substitute for real experience, but it could instill a false sense of confidence. That must be why she was losing even more than before.

That night, however, they broke even. No problem, thought Martin. She had some pretty good luck, that night, but if he were not so skilled, he would have lost instead of broken even. In the long run, he would come out ahead. Especially with the chances she was taking. Some really stupid plays were paying off for her; and experience told him that it could only last so long, and eventually, things would balance out.

Except they didn’t. He began to lose. Within a month, they were about even; he was beginning to do more chores, and she was only doing an occasional special service in bed. And then she started pulling ahead. Martin could not understand it. He was playing perfectly, while she was making one boneheaded play after the other. Yet, she was getting those lucky breaks. He calculated and recalculated the odds. But they kept on coming out the way he thought they would. Oh, well, this too, shall pass.

Soon, Martin was adding her chores onto his. When he started moving to multiple days on the chores, Helen suggested that HE start doing some extra servicing of HER in bed. That actually relieved Martin, who managed to get the point cost of his services somewhat higher than he would have settled for, by feigning disgust. Besides, it was just temporary. She couldn’t keep winning the way she was. Eventually, the laws of probability would assert themselves. He knew enough of the laws of probability to know that you could not predict the length of a winning streak, that there was no way the cards knew that they had been lucky for her the night before, so that every night was a whole new game. But the cards seemed to be as obedient to her as he was becoming.

In the meantime, things were going very well for Helen. With Martin doing her household jobs, she had been able to work hard enough at her job that she had gotten a promotion, along with an impressive raise in salary. And it looked like there was more of that where that was coming from. In the meantime, Martin was beginning to slack off on his job, and failed to get a promotion he had been counting on. He hadn’t even noticed it, because he was so obsessed with the situation at home. One night, he was looking at the Helen’s proposed stakes; he wasn’t proposing ANY stakes, as he was just trying to buy his way out from where he was.

“Mistress”, he said (he still had 3 weeks left on THAT one), “What’s this about my wearing no underwear but women’s panties for a week?”

“Well,” said Helen with a smile, “you’ll have to avoid getting into a traffic accident for a week if you lose that one.” Almost needless to say, for the next week, he wore panties to work. Luckily for him, nobody saw. But they DID see how nervous he had become.

And nervous he was. He started upping the stakes. He was still playing brilliantly, but she kept getting those stupid, lucky breaks. The lengths the services were good for were increasing; as the months passed, several had gone on to permanency. At the end of a year of this, the games had stopped. Martin had nothing left to lose. He had lost all his rights to Helen; he was now her permanent slave. He had agreed to have her hold on him augmented by a professional hypnotist (seven card stud; he had a full house, and she was showing 4 to an ace-high flush. How the hell did she end up with three face down cards matching one of her face up cards?). He was hers, body and soul. She had even won the right to castrate him whenever she wanted (he didn’t even want to THINK about THAT hand); luckily, she didn’t seem to want to go that far.

He had lost his job, of course. Small loss; Helen was now making as much as the two of them put together had been earning, and there was no end in sight. She would come home, he would bow down and kiss her shoes, then would help her get into her more comfortable clothing. At least the hypnotist made him feel pleasure from serving her (or did he gamble away the right to even dislike what was happening to him; he was having increasing trouble remembering). Virtually every decision he could have made for himself was made by Helen, instead, except a few as to how to best serve Helen (for example, should he wash the kitchen floor left to right, or right to left. Even decisions like these were becoming difficult. Maybe Helen could tell him which way was better). Helen had taken lessons from the hypnotist, and was now using her abilities to reinforce her control over Martin.

Most nights, he slept on the floor, at the foot of the bed. 2 or 3 times a week, Mistress (he was also beginning to have trouble thinking of her by any name but Mistress) decided that she needed servicing, and he would have the great honor of holding the vibrator, or, if Mistress was in a magnanimous mood, to actually put his worthless tongue against her glorious vagina. Even those times when she thought she was punishing him by making him clean out her anus with his tongue, he was in his glory, being able to touch the Mistress in such a personal way.

If he was very good, he would be allowed to reach orgasm himself, about once a month. He would never be allowed to touch the Mistress with his disgusting penis, but, every few months, the Mistress might give him an article of her clothing, on which he could rub himself (of course, he had to make sure it was perfectly clean afterwords). Martin never did figure out how luck had betrayed him to this level, however.

He might have had a clue, one day, when he threw away the garbage. In the garbage was a discarded book, once highly valuable, but no longer necessary. It was EXPERT CARD TECHNIQUE, by Jean Hugard. Unfortunately, one of the mental blocks placed on him by Helen, one which he didn’t even realize, was an inability to read. So he did not even recognize the book that was the start of his fall. And he didn’t even see the subtitle, the subtitle which if he had seen, that first day, would have changed everything. Because it was not a handbook for card players.

It was a handbook for magicians.