The Great Merchant: Derick Walker-5
Grea had lost everything. Not merely her money — her credibility, too. One might well ask what credibility a gambler could possibly claim, but in a gambling den, a single wrong flick of the hand was enough to cost you the wrist that dealt it.
Now that the other gamblers knew the truth about Grea, they were not about to let her walk away clean. She would have to leave Coulon today — if she wanted to leave at all. Grea had been driven to the final boss of every gambler's tech tree: skipping town in the dead of night.
But could she actually do it? Five hundred gold. A fortune worth several million dollars. Could anyone who had incinerated a sum of that size in a single sitting keep their wits about them? Even a sage who had forsaken all worldly greed would howl in every direction and scream despair at a number like that. For anyone with a functioning mind, going mad would not even have been strange.
In the end, Grea planted her face in the floor before me. The words that came out of her had been ironed into something proper.
"Nngh...! I'm sorry. I... I was wrong. Please, give me my money back."
This was exactly the picture I wanted.
I sat down in front of Grea. I tried to cross my legs, but my plump thighs refused to cooperate, so I simply sat.
Watching her blubber made my cock twitch with the urge to take her. I believe humans are wicked by instinct. And even if they aren't, I was born a bastard.
The sight of a woman showing weakness slowly unfurled my sadism. It was a genuine shame I couldn't take her then and there.
"And what, exactly, did you do wrong?"
My voice was leisure itself. I pressed her in a gentle, unhurried tone.
"Hic...! I... used tricks... I coveted Walker's fortune..."
Grea forced it out through a trembling, tear-choked voice — the kind of voice that tugs at a man's heart. The Master looked at her with pity. He seemed to have completely forgotten that she had been running a stacked game.
She's no ordinary piece of work, just as I thought.
Grea was crying, but it was one hundred percent fake. What I wanted to see was not these hypocritical tears. I wanted the real thing.
"So you do know. But do you actually intend to apologize to me in earnest?"
"Yeees. I sincerely beg your forgiveness. Please — just this once — forgive me!"
She slammed her forehead into the floor. The thud rolled through the entire tavern. The Master startled, overwhelmed by the display.
Grea had lowered herself. It was, without question, a good choice. The way she scraped herself down to the bone, self-flagellating to wring sympathy from her opponent — the technique was so thorough it felt rehearsed. That the Master was overawed by it was, in a way, only natural.
To me, though, it was a dull spectacle.
"For someone so sorry, don't you think you're wearing a bit too much? I don't feel even a chick's feather's worth of sincerity in that apology. If it were me, I'd already be stark naked."
When I said it with a sneer, Grea — face still planted on the floor — bit down hard on her lip. But she was smart enough to grasp immediately who held the knife. I gave her a slimy smile. The way her pupils trembled was delicious.
Still biting her lip, she began to undress, slowly. Layer by layer, clothes that weren't even that thick peeled away. I watched Grea's striptease from a front-row seat, unhurried. Mine was the premium box. When the top came off, underwear of fine cloth was revealed.
"Please... at least the undergarments..."
"Hmph. This is why women are the way they are. Everything half-assed. You think a few convenient tears will fix it all, don't you?"
"I'll take them off..."
Grea eventually stripped down to nothing. The Master's gaze, still wiping a glass, poured onto her. The front of his pants bulged. A pitifully small cock. Not that I had any interest in a man's dick.
There is little in this world as thrilling as a naked dogeza. It is proof that a woman has submitted to you completely. And a face steeped in shame is the finest drinking snack on earth.
I drank her humiliation to the dregs. Looking down at Grea, I savored her most shameful state.
"Well. I can feel a tiny scrap of apology in it. But it's still woefully insufficient compared to the sin you've committed. You don't actually think that body of yours is worth five hundred gold, do you?"
Five hundred gold could buy a hundred Lunas. Of course, even if someone offered me five hundred platinum right now, I wouldn't sell Luna.
Luna is not something money can buy. And the same goes for Sera, and for every other woman of mine. I do not let go of what I have taken. And I will take Grea into my hands.
"I sincerely beg your forgiveness. Please — just give me the money back."
Even in this situation, Grea had not lost sight of her objective. She wrung each word from a voice thick with shame, pleading for my mercy. It was a thoroughly admirable attitude.
"Get up."
I ignored her words and issued a one-sided command.
Grea slowly rose from the floor. She figured out what I wanted at once. She made no move to cover her breasts or her pussy with her hands. I do like a fast mind.
I took my time looking her over. She was slender overall. Her breasts were small, her pelvis narrow enough to hold in one hand. But her pubic hair grew as thick as a jungle.
That'll have to be shaved.
Pubic hair has its own flavor, but hair grown that carelessly is no good. Better to trim it pretty, or go fully bare. For a slender frame like Grea's, a shaved pussy would suit her best.
Not completely bald — a faint shadow of stubble left behind would be perfect. I can already see the picture I want.
Using Grea's flesh as a canvas, I painted the woman I wanted in my mind. It was a thoroughly pleasant fantasy. Imagination alone was enough to make my cock stand straight up.
"Turn around."
Grea obeyed. She turned, embarrassed.
"Stick your ass this way. So I can get a good look at your asshole."
Grea followed every humiliating order.
The dense hair that ran all the way to her perineum had spread a jungle around her anus as well. She seemed to be naturally hairy down below. Her shame was not simply from being naked. Very few women enjoy putting untrimmed hair on display.
"As a slave merchant's appraisal, thirty silver would be about right. That's what that body of yours is worth."
I pulled a gold coin from my pocket and flicked it at her. The coin bounced, struck her anus dead center, and clattered to the floor. Grea trembled with shame.
"Yes. You're right. I'm a cheap whore, worth that much. So please — forgive this wretched woman."
Obsession clung to every word.
"Hrm. What should I do with you?"
I pretended to ponder and looked up at Luna. Luna began the performance I had ordered in advance.
"Master. Spare a thief, and he will steal again. Spare a swindler, and she will swindle again. Should you forgive this woman, she will surely return as a grave harm to you."
Grea bristled at Luna's words.
"N-no! If you just give me the money back, I'll leave Coulon forever and never show my face before you again!"
"I can't trust that. The weight of a swindler's word is less than a bird's feather."
"Th-that's..."
Grea bit her lip hard. Despair flickered in her eyes. I chuckled and went on.
"Y-yes! As expected of the merciful Walker!"
Grea planted her face on the floor again. The way she swung between joy and despair at every word of mine was too much fun.
I wanted to toy with her a little longer, but I proceeded with the plan. The plan itself was toying with her.
"I'll give you your money back. Ten gold, that is."
"Ten... ten gold? That's only one-fiftieth of my money..."
Grea stammered. The greed of wanting every last coin returned, even now, was impressive. That kind of desire and ambition was how she had amassed a fortune in the first place.
"Too little, is it?"
"Th... that's right. I'd like at least half of it back."
Being naked had, somehow, made Grea oddly bold. She said it while subtly presenting her pussy and her breasts. Even now, checking and calculating how to put herself in a better position — it was frightening. Of course, she was still in the palm of my hand.
"Fine. Then how about this? Use that ten gold to gamble with me again. A fair game this time, of course. No tricks."
"G-gamble? You used tricks too, originally..."
She let the sentence trail off. She had calculated that accusing me here would gain her nothing. Her judgment was perfectly correct.
"I'll specially put up ten times whatever you bet. Meaning my wooden chips are worth ten gold each. Yours are worth one gold each. Even if I win, I only take a tenth of yours."
It was an overwhelmingly unfair game — in her favor. And yet, even as I said it, Grea's eyes wavered.
She knew well. If fraud entered a game, you could profit regardless of the odds. And she knew I used that kind of fraud. Strictly speaking, it wasn't fraud — it was the power of an item.
"And I'll use a proxy gambler. Master."
"Y... yes!"
"Gamble in my place. I'll give you one percent of whatever you win."
"Y-yes!?"
The Master drooled at the heavy money pouches piled on my side of the table. He put the glass he'd been wiping into the cupboard and came over to us.
"Well? Whether you accept is your choice. Walk out of here with ten gold, or gamble with me and try to recover your principal. Decide."
I gave her a choice. In truth this was not a fork in the road — it was a single path. She was already locked under a guaranteed crowd-control. There was no escaping it.
".... I'll do it."
A poker game began with no tricks involved. The Master sat across from Grea in my place and took up the cards. I watched from behind him. Grea, for the record, was still naked.
"Um... could I put my clothes on for this?"
Grea asked in a cautious tone. I shook my head at once.
"The moment you put clothes on, the game is over. I'll take it as a forfeit."
".... Yes."
With no tricks available, the poker proceeded in thoroughly ordinary fashion. Their win rates were roughly even, but every time the Master lost, he lost ten times what Grea did, so she calmly recovered her money.
Before long she had clawed back two hundred gold. Every time wooden chips stacked in front of her, Grea's expression lightened. Grea, a master of the poker face, could not quite manage her features — perhaps because she had just crawled up from hell.
As the game went on, Grea forgot she was naked and threw herself into the gambling. I spectated, enjoying the view of her body.
"I lost."
The Master checked his cards and said it.
"Heh. That's my win. I've already recovered two hundred fifty gold."
Half of what she had lost, recovered. The Grea of an hour ago might have been satisfied here. But that was the Grea who had been doing a naked dogeza in front of me. The Grea of now had her eyes rolling with the swollen dream of recovering her principal.
"Looks like you're enjoying the game. We've been at it a while, so let's change it up."
".... Surely not dice?"
"Why? Don't like it?"
"That's... fine, as long as there are no tricks."
The effect of my Gambler's Four-Leaf Clover had already expired. Of course, the gambling we were about to do had nothing to do with that. I told the Master to bring the dice.
"No tricks. And you, of course, must not use any tricks in this game either."
"Will you be playing yourself this time?"
"Yeah. Sitting and watching was making my hands itch."
She closed her eyes and sank into thought. I had not used any tricks in the poker. That was how Grea had been able to recoup her losses. I had given her the hope to challenge the next game.
This is Grea's own method.
Toss the opponent just enough of a carrot that they don't walk away. Grea was being hit with the very technique she used best.
She turned her eyes to the money pouch she had recovered. Call or fold. I could almost see the thoughts flashing through her head. After some deliberation, Grea opened her mouth.
"If... if cheating is discovered... what do you intend to do?"
"A bold question. Worried I might cheat?"
"I merely wished to ask."
"If I'm caught cheating, I forfeit every chip I have on the table. How's that?"
"...... Could you put that in a contract?"
"Of course."
I asked the Master for paper and a quill. We wrote a contract.