The Lottery (3 page)

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.

“The next time I surprise you at the door, remind me to not hug
you anymore. You are dangerous to my wardrobe. I paid nearly one hundred
thousand for this suit.”

“Stop trying to make me feel guilty. You are nuts to spend that
much on an old suit in the first place.” Karlyn slid the metal door open and
slid it back again after Sam walked with her into the hallway. They walked down
the dimly lit hall towards the antique elevator.

“Come on, Karlyn, this is a pre-war, perfect condition silk Dolce
suit from 2031. You know I can’t help myself. I just bought that Baby Phat
pantsuit from my favorite shop in the village for almost two hundred thousand;
it was one of the earliest designs from the turn of the 21st century and in
absolute perfect condition. They really have done some amazing work with fiber
reconditioning. I bet these look as good, if not better, than the day they were
made. Plus you can’t find a new silk pantsuit for any less than three hundred
thousand in today’s market; current fashion is just too damned boring. I see
this as both being cost effective, recycling, and being absolutely fabulous. You
should be proud of me.”