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Sometimes addictions can be a man’s downfall. In my case my gambling addiction would lead to my sexual demise. It began when I moved up from playing the occasional game of poker to a weekly game for higher stakes at a most exclusive club in our fair city. A few drinks and dinner always led to a cigar over brandy, and then we would retire to the penthouse located six floors above the main entertainment area. It was, of course, by invitation only. I suppose I thought myself to be impervious to defeat. After all, I had made my fortune in the import business after starting from my studio apartment in one of the seedier parts of town. When I finally reached a level of financial security, I purchased a house in the suburbs in an exclusive gated neighborhood. Of course, the old wife did not accompany me to my newly acquired dwelling. She was replaced with the most succulent blonde blue-eyed seventeen-year-old that money could attract. It was like a fly to sugar.
Little did I know that my success was deplored by the old money in town. I suppose they saw my success as a challenge to their continued dominance; it’s the old status quo syndrome I believe. Neither did I realize that the beauty of my newly acquired bride had attracted the attention of the most bullish of the old money crowd. They were extremely intelligent in their methods of providing me with a false sense of security that my skill at poker was superior to theirs. I was suckered as surely as if it had been by a pool shark of olden times. It was after months of the usual Friday night game that the fateful night arrived with its game. My host had allowed me to win more than one million of his dollars in cash. I felt unbeatable. This was when he uttered the fateful words, “You seem to be on a streak. Lets make the wager a bit more interesting. Anyone can play for mere money. Lets place something more personal on the line.” True to my inexperienced nature I replied, “Sure, whatever you desire to lose!” My host, Mr. Jameson, snapped his fingers for two of the most beautiful women I had ever beheld to come forth and bare their breasts for my inspection. At the same time he beckoned my wife to come to the penthouse. Then he elaborated on his desired wager, “ Should you win, these two beauties are yours. I own them body and soul. You shall also receive this building and all assets contained within. Should you lose, your wife’s sexual attributes become mine to command, and you, my impetuous young friend, will be gelded as you watch me make love to her.” I thought for a moment, during which time my wife arrived to stand by my left side. I replied, “You have a deal. I believe I will be quite comfortable hosting our weekly game.” “Good, I suggest one hand of five card stud.” Mr. Jameson taunted. I turned and bade my wife to bend down where I could whisper the details of the wager into her ear. “Cool!” She squeaked as if the very idea of being the ante produced a burning desire within her loins. I assumed as much, she was the type girl that had her clit and nipples pierced before she was sixteen. My host motioned to the woman acting as our dealer for the game to begin. The first two cards were dealt, an eight of hearts for the host and a queen of clubs for me. Simple black panties with black high-healed pumps that were the Waitresses complete costume as she sauntered to the table with my second martini of the game. The second card was dealt, a deuce of hearts for the host and a queen of spades for me. I already had a pair. It was my lucky night. The third cards fell to the table, a seven of hearts for my host and a deuce of spades for me. By that time, I was feeling ecstatic and a bit sleepy. The fourth cards revealed an ace of hearts for my host and an ace of spades for me. So far it was my game. I had a pair with an ace high. He had the possibility of a flush, but the probability was not good. I felt strangely serene as the fifth and final cards were dealt. Before me I beheld my three of diamonds and his four of hearts. A lump formed in my throat; he had his flush. I had lost! I could not believe that fate had dictated such an end! I stood but felt something on my shoulder. When I looked to my left I realized that a large black man stood by my side. When I looked right there was the same. The two men were my host’s bodyguards. “You see the two manacles on the pillar, shall you place your own wrist in them or shall my bodyguards assist you?” My host taunted with a chuckle. My wife was already slipping off her panties as she placed her rump on the card table. I knew it was my destiny, so I meandered to the pillar where one of the panty clad waitresses assisted in fastening the manacles around my wrists. Then she unfastened my trousers to pull both them and my underwear down to my ankles. I stood naked from the waist down as my beautiful blonde wife slid up her skirt to pull her legs high in the air as my host mounted her. The waitress who had served the drinks removed her black panties, crawled onto the table and sat on my wife’s face just as the other woman returned with a red haired woman. Both of these ladies wore only the penthouse attire for waitresses, as did the other. The red haired lady kissed her finger and then touched it to my lips as she said with a giggle, “Don’t worry honey, this won’t hurt a bit. You just won’t have what it takes to be a man afterwards. That little honey pot wife of yours will just become accustomed to getting her cookies elsewhere.” Suddenly, I felt a pin prick in my buttocks. Within minutes I was floating in a world of uncaring. It was actually quite beautiful watching my wife scream with pleasure. Just as suddenly, there was a slight twinge of pain in my groin, and then another. I didn’t even wonder what was happening, I continued to watch my host ride the blonde beauty that I refer to as my wife. The red haired woman opened her hand before me to display two red orbs as she said, “There they are honey. It’s your balls. I’ve just transformed you into a eunuch. Take a good look at that pussy on the table because in a month or two it won’t even interest you.” The red haired mistress of castration completed her work to release my bonds to coincide with the host completing his copulation with my blonde beauty. I was sent home with her to taste her body’s sweet affections no more. As the mistress described, within a month the attributes of femininity did not even interest me, nor does it to this day.
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