Chapter 1 - Don't Go All In...

A multi-part story set in the Battletech universe, this story will contain:

"Official" blackmail. Reluctance. Sweat. Vaginal. Size difference. Exhibitionism. Anal play. Fingering. Facefucking. Dirty talk. Humiliation. Sort-of Prostitution. Poor decision making skills. Pregnancy risk. An arrogant asshole. Public sex.

- - - - - - -

"Read 'em and weep, losers."

There were groans and complaints. Cards slapped against the table as various hands were thrown down in disgust, and glass clinked as bottles were snatched up.

Lauren Tachall just grinned, white teeth flashing from between dark, soft lips as she scooped up the pile of winnings from the center of the table. C-bills, casino chips, bottle caps, house bills, service medals, paper i.o.u's, some sweet candies, and even a pack of cigarettes were all scooped up with relish and piled in front of the victorious woman.

"Someone slap her for me, she's being smug and I can't reach her," Lauren's lance leader growled, smoke curling lazily up from the cigarette that dangled limply from his lips. He tossed his cards onto the table with a grunt of disgust as his subordinate stuck her tongue out at him in defiance. 

"Slap Kerry instead, I think she sprung a leak."

"Is that what that is? I thought a coolant pipe was about to burst."

Next to Lauren an older, heavily built woman had gone red in the face. A whistling sigh of anger spilling from her tightly pursed lips as she glared at her cards, still clutched in her hand, as if they had mortally offended her.

"Maybe I'll bribe tech in here to take a look at it with some of this lovely money," Lauren offered, counting out a crumpled wad of Davion House bills. "Getting this place fixed up a little is the least I can do for you all."

"I'd rather get someone out here to patch the leak in the roof."

"Or get the AC working."

"I'd be happy with some hot water."

The table broke down into the familiar litany of complaints about the company's current berth, and Lauren couldn't help but smile. Bitching was the company's favorite activity, and she knew every complaint by heart. God knew she'd uttered them often enough herself. In truth, there wasn't that much on the table, maybe a quarter month's pay in total, pulled from near a dozen players, but it still stung. Nobody liked to lose, and the banter that had been flying as hot and harsh as lasers around the table all night made it hurt even more.

Still grumbling, her lance leader gathered up the cards and started to shuffle even as a few people emptied their chairs, muttering about showers and sleep before duty. There was enough blood left in the table for a few more hands, and Lauren would ride it out. Leaving after a big hand was poor table etiquette, and would just cause hurt feelings. Better to play the last few hands than risk losing her invite. 

Not that she played hard, just taking it easy as the night wound down. Folding on one, riding out a nothing pot on another hand. And then it happened. She had been planning on walking away without winning again, it was table politics and it never hurt to be polite to people who would be watching your back in the field. But...

Lauren stared at her cards, trying not to let out a whoop. The deck they were playing with was standard, though the suits had been renamed after the five major houses: Steiner, Davion, Kurita, Marik, with Liao relegated to the jokers (one of them was currently up on the dartboard, the Chancellor crowned with a fool’s motley cap, his face full of holes). And while her hand was a riotous wash of color, that didn't mean it was any less beautiful. A full house stared her in the face, and she wasn't sure she'd ever feel this happy to see the Kurita dragon again in her life.

"I'll raise," she heard herself say, voice surprisingly calm as she tossed a rough hundred c-bills into the pot. There were a few muffled grunts and one outright groan, but for the most part, the table matched. Money piled up in the center, the mood shifting slightly as hands were reassessed in the face of this suddenly large pot. Lauren could feel eyes studying her as she idly moved her cards around in her hand, changing up their order without any sort of consistent plan. 

Most of them were looking at her face, but a few kept getting distracted from their search for a tell, their eyes wandering south almost out of reflex. And to be fair to them, there was plenty to be looking at. Lauren was a petite woman, barely making the five-foot mark, and while the life of a mercenary had left her strong and toned, she was still plenty feminine. A taut, smooth tummy accented the broad swell of her hips and a fat rump that could turn any seat into something comfortably cushioned. And even dressed in her uniform, her tits were a sight to behold. Two soft mounds that rode high and proud on her chest, the dusky skin of her cleavage drawing the eye like a black hole gobbling light. It was such an entrancing sight, that one of the drunker players seemed to forget what he’d been doing, and just grunted as he stared and tossed a matching bet into the pool.

He regretted it when the young pilot turned down any new cards. Next to her, the company’s comm specialist panicked and folded, the pressure getting to be too much for him. Poor guy had never been in a cockpit, he just didn't know how to handle it when things got hot. There was another round of bidding, more reserved this time, only to break as Lauren doubled the pot. One by one the table started to fold, and she had to fight down a curse - she'd gotten too eager and scared them off. It was still a good pot, but nothing like what her hand was worth.

"See it, and raise it."

Her disappointment vanished and her head jerked up, a predator seeking the sound of new prey. Tyler Sanford gave her a cocky smile as he reached into a pocket of his coveralls, rummaging around for a moment. He was their engine tech, his naturally broad frame expanded by hauling components and tools around all day. His face was burned red and ruddy from reactor heat, and his dirty blonde hair cut short to keep it out of the way. His hands were huge and scarred, seemingly too big and clumsy to cup his cards so carefully.

But they were certainly skilled enough to set off a bomb right in the middle of the company rec room, dropping a chit and some folded papers onto the pot.

"Three months paid leave, and booked passage on a luxury ship to Solaris VII."

The table exploded, pockets were emptied and a few people sprinted out of the room, desperate to dig through bags and lockers in search of anything approaching similar value. One by one they came up empty, wallets falling short, prized possessions waved off as junk, and jewelry deemed too sentimental at the last moment. Lauren herself wavered, ready to drop her cards, but...

"I call," she said. Tyler's head jerked up and for a moment he looked worried, eyes darting down before his face smoothed into a gambler's grin. But it was enough to make Lauren's heart soar- he was bluffing! Just trying to bully the rest of the table out of the hand with an outrageous bet.

Reaching into her shirt, Lauren’s fingers slid along silky skin and down into her cleavage. She rummaged for a moment before touching cool metal. With a tug, she pulled a small, metal card off the chain of her dog tags and tossed it into the pot. The startup key for her mech laid there, glittering dully on top of the pile.

There was silence and then shouting.

"You can't do that!"

"That's company property."

"Wait, does she own Bug Hunt?"

"I thought the captain loaned it to her."

"Lauren, we have a patrol tomorrow!"

The table broke down into bickering as Lauren maintained eye-contact with Tyler, fighting to keep her face blank even as her heart raced. If she had any damn sense she'd have punched out, but all she could do know was pretend she had coolant for blood and keep pushing forward.

"Well?" She asked quietly. "Whatcha got, hotshot?"

"Momma raised me right," the big man smirked, the expression slightly strained around the edges. "Ladies first."

"I'd call you cored, then," Lauren shrugged, a bloodthirsty grin spreading across her face as she tossed her hand down with forced casualness. There were a few whistles and curses from the audience. Lauren knew she was going to have to make it up to the rest of the table somehow - at least if she wanted to be invited back. There was an unspoken etiquette to these things that you had to follow. Maybe she'd order in food from town, there was a Combine-style noodle place that was just to die for. Get that and a few cases of beer brought to base and -

"Nope."

His hand grabbed her wrist as she reached for the pile, grinning broadly he laid his cards out - a straight flush. 

"Shoulda punched out," Tyler laughed, gently pushing her arm back so he could drag the pile across the table to himself. Lauren felt her heart sink as he plucked up the starter card to her mech, turning it over in calloused fingers and getting fingerprints all over the dull metal.

"Not a huge fan of the name," he said conversationally to the quiet room. "But I can just paint a new one over it. Hey, Lauren, if I promise to let you sit in it from time to time, you up for giving me driving lessons?" His voice was taunting and his lips were twisted in a mocking smile. The young pilot heard him, but the words didn't mean anything. Everything felt so far away and disconnected. Her heart hammered in her ears as she stared dumbly at the card. She was dispossessed…

Tyler made another joke, and that was when Lauren's lance leader punched him. It was a beautiful, textbook blow that snapped the big tech's head back, his chair tipping and spilling him onto the floor even as another tech grabbed at the old mechjock to restrain him. And moments later the room was exploding into shouting and a rolling, half-drunken brawl that smashed the table and scattered bills and cards across the floor. All the drinks and frustration of lost hands coming out at once as the crowd turned into a rolling cloud of fists, feet, and heads.

"Attention!"

It wasn't shouted, simply stated quietly and firmly. But the command cut through the growing pandemonium like a knife, ending it in an instant as the whole group snapped to attention, dabbing at bloody lips or tugging torn uniforms back into place. Captain Killian Ford stepped out of her office and into the rec room, her eyes cold and hard as she looked over her men. The leader of the First Forward mercenary company, she was a hard woman who had proved her mettle on a dozen worlds and in a hundred battles, and her lips were pressed into a thin line. 

The group exchanged guilty glances and worried grimaced, had she been in her office the whole night? Killian kept her office attached to the rec room so she could talk with her subordinate while crawling through tedious paperwork, but nobody had known she had been around for the game. Guilty, drunk minds searched through hazy memory - had they said anything bad during the game?

Hands clasped behind her back, Killian slowly walked up and down the rough ranks, eyes critical, taking in every popped button, blackened eye, and torn stitch. 

"Do I even want to know what happened here?" She asked, reaching Lauren who was still sat in her chair, eyes unfocused and lost. She'd lost her mech. She'd lost her damn mech, what had she been thinking? She was dispossessed, a pilot without a mech, just another useless body without a machine…

"Mechwarrior, report."

Lauren looked up at her commander, blinking blearily. She felt like she was in shock, the last time she'd felt like this she'd taken shrapnel in the side when her cockpit was breached. That same feeling of cold disbelief that squeezed her heart...

"Mechwarrior Tachall. I said report."

That did it. That patient, coldly authoritative voice snapped Lauren back to reality. It was a voice she’d heard through a dozen desperate skirmishes and firefights - she knew that voice, obeyed that voice. Stumbling, practically tripping over the legs of her chair, Lauren rose to her feet, snapping off a salute with a shaking hand.

"Ma'am. We were having a card game because today was payday, you see. And the betting started to run a little hot, and Technician Sanford bet his leave. And I got carried away and we… uh… that is, I bet my mech, and things were said, and, um…”

"And you all started brawling like this was a bar on Outreach,” Kilian supplied helpfully. There was an amused smile on the woman’s face, but Lauen could see her eyes were as cold as space and hard as mech armor. The commander was quietly furious, and Lauren had to fight the urge to shrink back from that gaze.

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

“Because you were dumb enough to bet your only contribution to this company, and the reason for your employment, in a card game.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And your lancemates were dumb enough to think they needed to swoop in and save you, rather than letting you deal with the consequences.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lauren wanted to stare down at her shoes, like a child being dressed down, just to avoid that piercing, furious gaze. But Kilian’s eyes kept her locked in place, forced to take her dressing down in front of the entire group. After a long moment, the commander turned to face Tyler who was being helped up by one of his friends, dabbing at blood from a split lip.

"You can't actually take her mech, Mr. Sanderson."

Lauren almost groaned in relief, her knees trembling and nearly giving out as she slumped against the chair. It was like being told your execution was lifted. It was staring down a gun barrel and hearing the click of a jam.

"That's bullshit, ma'am. You wouldn't have come out here if she'd won my leave," Tyler snapped, and several people murmured agreement. To Lauren's shock, Killian was nodding as he spoke.

"You're right, I wouldn't have. Your leave doesn't affect unit readiness or combat capability. Taking her mech does."

"But-"

"However, as it is now your 'property', I'll let you charge her rent for the rest of our contract. After that, I don’t want to hear any more about this stupidity."

"How much can I charge her?" Tyler asked, still frowning, his fingers drumming on his bicep as he crossed his arms. It must have been the shock Lauren was still feeling that made her note how nicely his muscles filled that coverall. Killian shrugged, and the tech turned to face Lauren. His eyes were burning with anger, and there wasn't even a hint of pity or kindness on his face. He'd been cheated, and he wasn't about to forgive and forget.

"Twenty thousand c-bills a month," he said, and Lauren just gaped at him.

“That’s damn near my entire paycheck!” she protested, her voice a strangled squeak as that feeling of shock washed through her again. “That’s eight damn months where I basically wouldn’t be getting paid! That… no!”

Turning, she looked at Kilian with a silent plea in her eye. That wasn’t right, they couldn’t do that! She’d be going into combat, fighting and risking her damn life, for barely two grand a month. By the end of the deployment, she’d barely have more money than if she’d just spent some time flipping burgers somewhere. 

"This isn't my negotiation, solve it yourself," the commander said, blasting Lauren’s hope to pieces, hand on her hip. "But if you're not capable of patrolling tomorrow, you can kiss your contract goodbye and find your own dropship off the planet."

“F-fifteen,” Lauren tried, turning her attention back to the big man and tightening her hands into fists. She wasn't going to be pushed around by some engine tech. Sure, he was bigger than she was and angry as hell, but she dealt with that kind of thing every time she stepped foot on the battlefield. She wasn't about to fold, not in front of everyone. 

“Twenty,” Tyler repeated, his voice the rumble of distant thunder. Heavy and low and full of malice. “And that’s me being nice, you little bitch. You tried to cheat me!”

“I wasn’t trying to cheat you! I just…” Lauren swallowed, eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal. She'd expected her lancemates to support her, but most of them didn't meet her eyes. This whole thing had gone too far, a brawl over cards wasn't unheard of, but getting the commander involved? No, nobody wanted to speak up and attract Kilian's attention. "F-fine. Twenty. You happy, asshole?”

“Not yet, that still leaves me down nearly two hundred thousand,” Tyler grumbled. 

“She win enough tonight to pay that?” Killian asked, looking at Lauren’s little pile of winnings. 

“Nah,” Tyler said, shaking his head dismissively. “It was mostly little pots. Nowhere near what she still owes me.”

“Hmmm.” Kilian tapped at her chin and Lauren felt a fresh dose of nervousness. Her commander could be devious and merciless on the battlefield, and something told the young pilot that didn’t stop just because the commander had left her mech. But she still wasn’t prepared for the offer Kilian made. 

"Think you could get that last two hundred out of Lauren herself?"

It took a second for Lauren to understand what her commander meant, and then she started, eyes wide as her heart lurched in her chest and her face started to burn with embarrassment. She was pretty, and she knew it. She wasn't the most stunning woman in the company or on their shared deployment base, she knew, but she was beautiful. Cute and soft features under a wild mane of dark hair that a ponytail struggled to contain, though her temples were shaved completely bare, like every mechwarrior’s. And a mechwarriors customary uniform of light, minimal clothing, meant that Tyler knew exactly what kind of body was hidden under her rather modest uniform, lord knows the techs enjoyed the spectacle of watching the mechjocks rush through the hanger. 

"Yeah…" Taylor said slowly, licking his lips as his eyes roamed her body. "Yeah, I think I could get my money's worth out of her if you really mean it.”

“I do. I’d like to discourage anyone else from pulling a stupid stunt and starting a brawl in the middle of my rec room,” the unit’s commander replied calmly. “She’d be all yours.”

"Don't I get a say in this? Lauren protested, horrified at what was being said. Her face was so hot it felt like it was on fire, and her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. And the worst part of it was the way she suddenly felt hot all over, the way she was having to ignore the shivery feeling that wanted to sweep down her spine. Her thighs pressed together, and her flush only got worse as she felt the faintest hint of dampness. As if being bartered over like property was turning her on. 

"You had your say when you made the bet," Killian snapped. "Now either accept the terms or accept that you're dispossessed, and therefore no longer of any use to me, or this company."

Lauren hung her head. Her face burned and she could hear muffled laughter and whispers all around her. This was going to be all over the base before the night was even over. Everyone was going to know about how she was having to pay off her debt… About how she wasn’t just a mechwarrior but a whore now, bouncing on Tyler’s lap to work off her debt a c-bill at a time. 

"... yes, ma'am," she whispered, trying to ignore the way Tyler reached out to high five one of his buddies behind Killian's back. And the way the fresh wash of humiliation it brought on made her little cunt clench.

"Good," Killian said, clapping Lauren on the shoulder. "Next time, maybe stay away from the big boy table if you can't back up your mouth. Company dismissed!"