The Lottery

by Alexandra O'Hurley

  The slap echoed through the car. Ethan’s face stung as his white knuckled grip on the steering wheel tensed even tighter, as he tried to hold on to his last shred of sanity. She had finally pushed him to his breaking point, and he knew that he would have to walk away from this contract sooner rather than later. Turning to look at her, he was glad to see her rubbing her hand along her thigh. It had evidently hurt her more to hit him than the strike had hurt him. He took some satisfaction from that.

  “See what you have lowered me to? I am not a violent person, Ethan. Just drive us home before we both do or say something we will truly regret.”

  “When did you suddenly become a pacifist? Stop trying to show off in front of your new boy toy. Either way, he will see the real you soon enough.”

  Slipping the car into gear, Ethan slammed his foot on the accelerator, bouncing Ophelia and her new conquest’s heads onto the seats behind them. Dangling those keys before him had made him feel like a kid in a candy store – her chauffer normally drove them in Ophelia’s large aerocar, but she had felt like the speedster tonight and had maneuvered the vehicle here herself. Letting him drive home was a rare treat.

  Ethan thought back to the days before he had been stuck in his life of sexual servitude, and the freedoms he had once had. Screaming around fast curves in even faster cars, he had lived wild and unbound, a young man with his whole future ahead of him and nothing to lose. The anger he felt tonight, coupled with the stiff pedal yearning for speed under his foot, was a lethal combination. He desired his freedom once again, and it was pushing the limits of his normal reserve.

  Driving too fast, and too wildly, he enjoyed their gasps and moans as he nearly caused several accidents. Sliding the car into the garage below Ophelia’s penthouse apartment, the pair looked bewildered and each grasped the arm rests even after the vehicle’s engine was stopped.

  It was childish and asinine, and Ethan had still enjoyed every second of it, even knowing it would just cause the argument to continue and potentially escalate. But the feeling of impotence, never being in control of his own destiny, he felt continually emasculated. Ophelia had just made those feelings multiply ten-fold, and her constant pushing and prodding had made this wild man come to the forefront. To finally exert some control over himself and others was a heady rush that was starting to take over. He needed to find balance or this was going to go so wrong.

  With fury etched in every line of Ophelia’s face, the trio slid into the elevator, and she punched the button for the penthouse harder than necessary. “You are so going to pay for that, Ethan. And you will never drive my car again!”

  “I don’t doubt I shall suffer, I live with you, don’t I?” Turning to laugh at the young man behind him, the poor boy looked pale and uncomfortable. Good thing, as he had better get used to living with the witch that she was. Looking down, he saw the gear she had the boy’s cock in was making his flesh purple and swollen, grasping the base tightly. The chain was attached to the base so that with each tug, it tightened even more, and he was glad Ophelia had never tried to display him as such.

  Ophelia appeared angry and kept pulling on the chain as Ethan watched her mind churning, probably over what would be her next move. Ethan could see it clearly on her face that she was up to something. Her eyes narrowed together so tightly that they were mere slits; she emanated rage from every pore. Knowing she was taking her anger out on the other man cooled some of his anger, as he could accept responsibility and pain directed his way, but it was unfair for him to cause another pain in his actions.

  But it would make it easier to walk away if he was pissed off. And an angry Ophelia would push him past the point of no return fairly quickly. Now he had an out, the contract that he had so often been reminded of had kept him from saying what he wanted to say, or doing what he wanted to do, was now expired. Tonight’s explosion was long awaited.

  But he wondered why she had not brought up the expiration, as every other lover had done. Most of his past mistresses had renegotiated before the contract ever ended. Could it simply be that she forgot, or was this a part of her normal scheming? Throw him off guard, wondering whether he had a future or not?

  Slamming the door open to the penthouse, Ophelia dropped Addison’s chain as she swiftly walked to her bedroom, stripping and throwing clothes as she went. Addison picked up each piece and followed her like a puppy into her room, his chain dragging on the floor between his legs like a tail. Ethan walked over to the bar and poured himself a finger full of whiskey and threw it back sharply. Pouring himself another, he heard the bitch calling him from her bedroom.

  He poured the second shot down his throat and made one last pour. Carrying the glass into the bedroom with him, he knew he would need to be nearly incapacitated to deal with her much longer this night. Spying Addison between her legs, licking her cold, dry cunt, as she lounged across the bed, he grimaced and gulped down the rest of the liquor. Damn it, why hadn’t he brought the entire bottle with him?

  “Take your clothes off, Ethan.”

  The last thing he wanted to do right now was to please the wench. But he had two choices. He could allow the argument that was ready to erupt again and sleep on the streets as he really had nowhere to go tonight, or fuck her until he could figure out a way to get to his family’s house in the country. Sighing inwardly, he set the glass down on the old oak bureau and considering his alternatives.

  There was no public transportation this late at night, so there was no way for him to get home. He could steal Ophelia’s car and get there, but why bother giving her reason to persecute him further? It had to be a clean break. He supposed that one of his old owners might give him safe refuge, but that was no guarantee. Ophelia’s family had more money than most of the city’s wealthiest matrons – combined, and was too powerful for many of his ex-lovers to bother getting involved. And considering the recent gang rape of an ousted contracted mate, he knew what his chances were if he slept on the streets.

  Ophelia smiled wickedly, knowing she had won as he began to unbutton his shirt and disrobe. Once completely naked, he stood before her in all his glory. Not wanting to touch her, he didn’t move. It didn’t help that he preferred not to share a woman, even one he didn’t care for, so he stood awaiting her instruction.

  “Addison, go suck his cock.” She pulled out a large rubber dildo, just slightly larger than himself, a strap-on, and a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer. He had watched her fuck her friends with that cock, as Ophelia liked to use pleasure as a weapon, and she fucked many of the most powerful women she could, as often as she could, using their passion as a weapon against them later. To Ophelia, sex was control and she had an endgame in mind before she ever walked into a bedroom. He was unsure of what her intentions with the phallic were tonight.

  Ethan’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “That isn’t necessary. I’ve had my cock sucked once this evening. After two years of neglect, I doubt I could handle twice in one night.”

  “Oh, you taught me an interesting lesson tonight, Ethan. I rather enjoy watching you get your cock sucked, and then screaming out your release. I want to watch Addy here suck you dry while I fuck his narrow little ass. And as I recall you saying earlier tonight, you both will do what I say and how I say to do it.” An evil smile graced her lips as she watched Ethan try to contain his anger. “So get to it.”

  Addison still lay across the bed with a stunned expression on his young face. Upon looking at him more closely in the better light of the bedroom, Ethan realized he was probably closer to his early twenties then the teenager he thought him. Both men were frozen, as Ethan stood stock still contemplating his next move. One man was free to walk away, the other was not so lucky. Ophelia sat impatiently awaiting her request to be fulfilled as she finished snapping her faux cock into place.

  Slapping Addison on the back, Ophelia made him jerk into action, and he slid from the bed and padded slowly to stand in front of Ethan. Looking like a scared rabbit, he lowered his lanky form
to his knees and peered back up at the man before him. Gulping visibly while eyeing Ethan’s tool, the boy’s hands shook noticeably. Ethan didn’t know what to do with himself. Considering the lack of male companionship, most women would never dream of using her men in this fashion. It was near sacrilege.

  Ophelia rose from the bed, to stand behind the younger man, and lowered herself to her knees. Rubbing lube along his ass, she then coated the rubber cock, readying it for entry. A glimmer filled her eyes that Ethan had never seen. He had known she was depraved, but had no idea she would find her satisfaction in this type of humiliation. But she was always on a power trip, so he shouldn’t have been so surprised.

  Addison lifted one shaking hand to Ethan’s thigh, and slowly grasped his cock in the other. Ethan looked over to see Ophelia’s smug smile as she began to slide the cock into Addison’s ass. Watching as his body clench in anguish, Ethan realized Ophelia was ignorant of the pain, and even if she had noticed, she would not have cared. His face softened, as he appeared to recover slightly from the agony of her entry and grasped Ethan’s cock tighter. Addison stared at Ethan’s cock for several moments before closing his eyes, as if gathering some strength to do what he must do. Addison was about to place his lips to the head as Ethan tore away.

  “You conniving, vicious bitch! I am not playing a role in this game of yours. Tonight, I opt out. You have spent the last two years making my life a living hell. I refuse to let this go one step further.” Grabbing his pants and throwing them on, he turned to Addison. “I am sorry you have to spend the next two years with her, but I can’t do anything about the choice you have made.”

  “You can’t leave me, I own you!” She spat as she continued to fuck Addison, completely ignorant to the fact she hurt him.

  “Better take a close look at our contract, as it ended five days ago. I am a free man, and I intend on walking out those doors. There is absolutely nothing you can do to stop me.”

  “Your contract is up on the fifteenth.”

  “Try the fifth.”

  The look of hatred that crossed her face over having her fun spoiled, and the fact she was taking it out on the young man was too much for Ethan to watch. “I may not own you any longer, but I can prevent any other woman from wanting to own you. You forget I am a powerful woman, and I can ensure that you never have a contract in this district again.”

  Bewildered, Ethan looked at her. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I never lose Ethan, and I will have my pleasure. You either stay here and finish what we have started tonight, or no other woman will ever touch you.”

  “My dick speaks for itself. There are a lot of desperate, lonely rich women in this world.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Ethan began to walk out the door, almost feeling sorry for the young man who would have the anger directed at him tonight. Looking over his shoulder one last time, Ethan saw them still on the floor, Ophelia pounding his ass hard, handfuls of his hair in between those blood red tipped fingers. A single tear streamed down his face.

  Chapter Two

  June 2110

  Karlyn swirled the paint along the canvas, delighting in the glide of the oils across the material. Classical music drifted throughout the artist’s loft, seeping into her pores and making the sweeps of her brush more a dance. There was energy in her motions, and she felt electricity surge through her entire body, invigorating her. Sunlight from the industrial skylights drifted over the workspace.

  Her loft was one of several built into the old abandoned brick warehouse in a seedier part of town that recently had been seeing a lot of influx of new money. Luckily for her, she had bought one of the first ones, before this area had become so trendy and costly. If it had not been for that, she doubted she could afford to live there on the little she brought in with her art.

  Eventually her day would come, she just knew it.

  Until then, she plodded along, trying to keep her energy up and to continue to explore her creativity. This was the perfect place for her to do just that. She had scrimped and saved, added what little she could to the money her father had left her when he passed, and then she was able to buy this place. He was the only one in the family that had ever seen her for who she really was, and who understood her passion. And luckily for her, he had given her an escape route from her controlling mother, Lydia.

  Lydia had never understood her passion. She was so tired of hearing arguments about Karlyn never being a breadwinner, or the head of the household, or the backbone of the community, never to follow in her mother’s footsteps. Artists were none of these things in her mother’s eyes, so she was labeled a failure from the moment she took a brush to canvas.

  She still remembered the argument they had had the day she had left for college. Lydia at her semi-drunken best, screamed from the front lawn for the entire neighborhood to hear, playing the role of injured mother and martyr so her snooty friends would think she had done everything she could to prevent her child from being a failure. And she also clearly remembered her father hauling Lydia up from the lawn where she had fallen in her disheveled state, pulling her into the double doors of the family’s home, blowing her a kiss farewell with all the love he could muster at that moment.

  Before she began crying at that last memory of her father, she refocused on the canvas, and stepped back to take in her work on the whole, trying to get her wayward thoughts back on the piece. The beautiful sonata was truly inspiring her, as it was one of her best paintings yet. She smiled, happy with her work and stepped back to the piece. As she lifted her brush once again, a knock came from the door.

  Groaning inwardly, at the disturbance when she felt so open and creative, Karlyn begrudgingly walked down the antique, wrought iron stairs that led to the living area of the loft. Sliding the old steel door back, she smiled when she saw her best friend, Sam waiting for her. As Karlyn was about greet her friend, Sam threw a handful of colored paper dots into the air. Her mouth filled suddenly with confetti, Karlyn began spitting it out onto the floor.

  “Happy Birthday!” Sam yelled as she threw another handful of the pastel colored paper and grabbed Karlyn into a bear hug, swinging her around. Karlyn tried to ignore the reminder that she was getting older. She preferred to live in her own little world, where things like birthdays didn’t exist.

  “Oh, come on, Karlyn. You get one day a year that is all yours. The one day your friends can celebrate you being you, and you can’t even let us enjoy it?” Sam noted the look on Karlyn’s face as she released her from the hug, assuming what it meant, but was easily distracted when she noticed a dot of paint on the lapel of her pale gray vintage suit, and began working on removing it with a little spit shine. Karlyn didn’t know why anyone would spend so much on clothes, but she didn’t begrudge the successes her best friend had achieved since college. If Sam wanted to blow her money on just about anything she wanted, that was Sam’s business. But it sure would be nice if she could find that same success and not have to live hand to mouth.

  “Sam, first off, you are my only real friend, and you are constantly ‘celebrating’ me being me when you buy my paintings. We both know you buy them to help ensure I have food in my kitchen, to which I am incredibly appreciative. But considering I turn a blind eye to those handouts, to expect another handout on my birthday is a bit much. And second, why would I want my family to celebrate anything with me. I can’t stand any of them, especially Mom. Hell, she hasn’t even called me to tell me ‘Happy Birthday’.” Turning to brush paper dots off of her before they adhered to the paint on her jumper, she was thoughtful for a second. “Plus, I really don’t like the fact that I am getting old.”

  “Well, twenty-eight is not old. And buying your paintings is not a handout. I think you have real talent, as did a lot of your professors at school. Plus you never would have gotten a full scholarship to such a prestigious school if you weren’t great.”

  “I never said I didn’t have talent. I have creativity coming
out the wazoo. I just can’t seem to find the right audience that will buy my art and make me un-poor.”

  “Un-poor? Is that really even a word?” Sam laughed as she watched Karlyn shrug.

  “It seems better to ask for that than to ask to be rich, I figure.”

  “There is nothing wrong with desiring success. I love your art, and yes, I want to help support your creativity. I do not see what is wrong with that. So, they are absolutely positively not handouts.” Sam did her best to look mad but failed miserably. It wasn’t in her nature, so the inevitable smile popped out. “And the family part, yeah well, they are asses. I can be your family.”

  “Sam, you already are. But still, I don’t expect anything for my birthday.”

  “And that is exactly why you’re getting something.” Sam walked over to the kitchenette under the stairs and began working in earnest on her lapel. Opening the refrigerator, Sam shook her head sadly. “This fridge is completely empty. Geez, would it hurt you to keep a little club soda around for when you get paint on me?”

  “Club soda is not going to get paint off.”

  “Whaat? Oh, great.”

  “Try a tiny bit of toothpaste. It works wonders.”

  Sam went through the small doors into Karlyn’s bathroom via her bedroom. She yelled as she scrubbed her lapel. “Well, now that I have seen the contents of your refrigerator, or lack thereof, I demand to take you to dinner for your birthday. So, get your butt in here, and get dressed in something I can be seen in public with you, and let’s go grab dinner and some drinks to celebrate.”

  Karlyn smiled at Sam as she spoke the last few words while exiting the bedroom door, thought for a few minutes, mentally inventoried her nearly empty refrigerator and pantry, and realized it was the best offer she had had in quite a long while. Racing to her room, she rushed to clean herself up a bit, showering quickly to try and get the majority of paint off her hands and fingers, dressed in the first clean thing she saw and raced back to Sam, still scrubbing at her lapel.