The $10,000 Gangbang

By Veronica Sloan

Gabrielle Jones is a chaste young woman who will do anything for her husband. When the drunken fool gambles away $10,000, the owner of the casino offers the couple a disgusting deal: For every man that Gabrielle can pleasure, he'll remove one thousand dollars of debt. Can Gabrielle satisfy ten men in one evening? It's so humiliating! But for the sake of her marriage, she'll do it!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Veronica Sloan
• Release date: Sep 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370366392

Veronica Sloan

Veronica Sloan writes dirty stories and naughty romances. Her erotica is explicit and steamy, and no topic is too taboo. A Chicago girl at heart, Veronica graduated from the Columbia School of Journalism with every intention of writing very important things about very important people. Currently, she spends her days writing about pop culture and her nights writing about lusty men and women and their naughty predilections. She loves big dogs, hot yoga and songs that are stupidly catchy. Visit her at https://www.veronica-sloan-erotica.com/home/.

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The $10,000 Gangbang

© Copyright 2016, Veronica Sloan, All Rights Reserved

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Disclaimer: This story contains explicit content, including graphic descriptions of sexual intercourse with multiple partners. It is intended for adults only. All characters depicted are over 18. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

Cover designed by Veronica Sloan. Cover Photo © Lorand Gelner.

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Chapter 1: The Debt

The elevator groaned like a vengeful ghost as the doors opened wide. Inside, her husband pressed the button for the top floor, and smiled at her nervously as it began to rise. Gabrielle twisted the strap of her purse between her sweaty hands. I just don't understand, she said. What does this man want with us, Walter?

Walter reached for her in the moaning elevator but she pulled away. He was hiding something from her, she knew it. After five years of marriage, lies were easy to read on his face. He wouldn't look at her, and when he did, he held her gaze for too long, unblinking, like some pale mannequin. Her palms may have been sweaty, but he was wet all over. Beads of perspiration stood out on his head like the elevator was an oven. In fact, it was deathly cold. Don't worry, honey, he said. Mr. Howle is just a friend of mine.

So why does he want to see both of us? she demanded.

She watched her husband struggle to swallow the lump in his fat throat. It was times like these she wished he took better care of himself. Walter wasn't an ugly man, but his health had declined along with his fortune these last few years. He started gaining weight when he was passed over for his first promotion in the warehouse. Then he started spending more time in the casino than in the open air.

Not that Las Vegas had a lot of fresh air to go around, she admitted, but anything was better than spending late nights getting drunk on complimentary cocktails and betting against the house. The house always won, she thought, as her husband mopped his brow.

His thin black hair hung over his eyes like desiccated scrub grass. It's nothing, Gabby, he said.

He was trying to reassure her, but his words did just the opposite. As the elevator neared the top of the casino tower, its pressure constricted the knot in her stomach. Her heart, spurred by a vague, inescapable dread, pounded at her breasts. Restlessly, she crossed herself.

It was a habit she'd never truly be free of, though she hadn't been to church in years. Walter didn't see the point. The priest is just trying to look down your shirt, he said on their final Sunday.

Gabrielle had loved sitting in the front pews of the Vegas cathedral listening to Father Garcia denounce the sins of this filthy town. He always smiled at her when they took their seats, and she refused to believe his gaze was anything but chaste. Still, she would have been blind not to notice the looks of the other parishioners. If it bothered her husband then she would be the good wife and obey him.

Gabrielle considered herself a pure woman, dedicated to her duties as a housewife and free of the temptations of the world, but she wasn't stupid. She reached puberty early in life, and endured the lustful attentions of men (and jealous glances of women) ever since. Where her figure was concerned, Gabrielle took after her mother's side of the family: Flowing Spanish hair, flawless olive skin, a full set of hips and the ass to go with them. She could never find a top to conceal the heavy breasts that she considered more burden than blessing. Her husband adored them, but all men coveted them.

That was the double-edged curse of her buxom body. Kind women called her a beauty; other women called her all sorts of awful things. She hated being judged by her appearance. Perhaps other girls took advantage of their natural assets