High Stakes

A fanfic based on the movie The Deep End

By J.D.

Carlie Nagel liked to gamble, it didn't matter what the game was, it didn't matter the stakes, as long as there was a game he was happy.  He had his regular rounds, cities he would hit every few months as the mood struck him, then there were the excursions. 
Zhanna had been on one of those, a brothel, a whorehouse, it didn't matter what it was called, it's purpose was clear. But Zhanna's was different.  Unlike traditional houses Zhanna's catered to extreme tastes and Carlie Nagel had those as well.  Zhanna's had back rooms, rooms that only those whose trust had been earned would ever see, and these were the rooms that Carlie Nagle returned year after year to visit.  In one of these rooms there was held a card game that had yet to be matched anywhere in the world, it's stakes did not end with money alone and that too drew Nagel's interest.  The players were as varied as the stakes, millionaires, high rollers, or just players like Carlie, as long as they had the means they could be part of the game.

The current game had been ongoing for 48 hours, and there was no end in sight.  The stakes had surpassed what any had imagined and what made this game even more intriguing was that Zhanna herself had ante'd into the pot the balance of the cips she'd had before her.  The woman sat now studying her hand and the men before her,  her face a mixture of smug satisfaction.  "Gentlemen, the hour grows late and I think it's time we all are growing weary, perhaps we should make a final grand wager winner take all." The Madam looked between the assembled players again, confidence in her own cards overriding the caution that might normally dictate her play. 

"Just what kind of stakes are we looking at?" Nagel may have been the first to ask but his words were soon echoed by the others present.

"Ah...I'm sure you'll be pleased."  Zhanna laid her cards face down on the table before rising from her seat.  "I trust you will not limit the pot to chips exclusively as I have something I think will suit all of your tastes,  should you have a hand good enough to take the pot od course."  Moving to the door the woman whispered to one of the two men stationed there to assure the game and it's players remained undisturbed.  As she finished he simply nodded before leaving.  "Gentlemen, perhaps you'd care to refill your drinks while we await Ivan's return." 

Less then ten minutes had passed when there was a rap at the door and as it was opened Ivan again stepped into the room, though he was no longer alone. The young man who accompanied him could have been anywhere from 14 to 18 years of age.  Tall and thin, his shaggy black hair fell haphazardly across his forehead almost to the point of obscuring his eyes.  As he entered Zhanna moved to him, only to stretch her hand out so she could brush her fingers through his hair as one might a nervous pet.

"This is Alek...he's new gentlemen...and as you can see worth far more then what is now in the pot.  This boy will be my final ante into the pot, and when I say he goes to the winner, I mean that in every aspect."  The woman avoided looking at the young man as she spoke, she knew there would be fear in his eyes just as she knew he was aware that his feelings held no sway in the matter of his fate.  The men had no way of knowing that he had been sold to the Madam by his very own father to settle his own debts to the woman.  They could not know that his fate had been the same as his sisters only two years before.  His sister however had been allowed to work off the debt within Zhanna's house, or rather she was still doing so, it was not to be the same for him.  In Zhanna's eyes the boy was too old, she had accepted him as payment of the debt only because she had realized he held worth to some of her more discriminating clientele, and tonight he would, she hoped, prove that she'd been right.

Alek could only watch in fear as his fate was bartered between the men like he were no more then a lamb going to slaughter.  His eyes darted nervously between the six men present and he could only imagine what his future held were he to be taken by any of them.  When Zhanna ordered him to undress he knew better the to protest and soon he found himself standing naked before them as they each rose to get a closer look.  He bit his lip so that he wouldn't cry out as rough hands moved over his skin, touching and probing, fondling him as if he were less human then they were. He released a startled gasp as one of the more bolder gamblers slid his fingers between his cheeks and he could feel his skin redden as his body reacted in kind.

"I think that will do gentlemen...if you're satisfied perhaps we can finish the game?"  Zhanna had already moved back to reclaim her chair and the rest of the men followed close behind, the one delay coming from the man who had violated him.  Withdrawing his hand he delayed a moment more to grab Alex's penis before he could react and move away. 

"You'll be mine soon enough, and when you are we'll finish this."  He squeezed hard enough that Alek cried out in pain and then with a laugh the man patted his head as he might a dog. "Ah yes...we will definitely finish this."

And so it was he had come to be with Carlie Nagel...

Alek Spera finger the tattoo on his neck and wished for not the first time that the dice weren't there.  No one but he would ever know that they hadn't been placed there of his own choice, no one would know that they were in fact a brand, a mark to show that he belonged to Carlie in much the way that ranchers branded cattle.   There were other marks of course, scars left as the man had grown bored with simple sex and turned to more "creative" measures to find his release. 

How many times had he wished he had the courage to try and escape from it all?  How many times had he wished he could return to Carlie some of the pain the man had brought to him in the years since he had won him when his hand had bested Zhanna's.  He wouldn't of course because the simple truth was that Zhanna still held his sister's fate in her hands, one call from Carlie and she might suffer at the hands of one far worse then what Nagel was to him. As much as he hated Carlie Nagel and all that he was he knew he wouldn't leave and risk that happening, and that in itself would have caused him more pain then any the man might deliver himself.

Now though he had work to do, he checked the address on the slip of paper Carlie had given him then glanced at the addresses on the mailboxes he passed.  Today he was simply a messenger and that he could handle.