The Lottery Mistress and I checked in at the BDSM convention on Friday night. It was our first time at this particular one, though we had been to several in other cities. She immediately found the table to go and register for the Lottery. It was an annual event, unique to this convention. It cost a sizeable sum extra, which had to be paid in cash. We had discussed the Lottery at length, before coming. Living in a D/s lifestyle, it was uncommon for her to offer me a choice, but given the gravity of the contest, I appreciated her allowing me an opinion. To be quite honest, I was terrified. Still, I could see from the look on her face that she TRULY wanted to do this. Chances were remote that it would go badly, so with reluctance I thanked Mistress for asking me, and told her that if she wished to enter the Lottery, I was her slave and would of course, participate. Mistress asked how many people had already registered. She was reminded of the policy, which we already knew. No one was told how many entered the lottery until it had irrevocably begun. She got an information sheet about it. It would happen on Sunday night, the last night of the convention. I was, of course, nervous throughout the convention. I suspect Mistress was too. We were comforted, however, to meet many other couples participating. Though the organizers running the lottery would not divulge information about participants, we were free to try and find each other. The convention was a blur and a delight. All too soon, Sunday night arrived. The Lottery was scheduled for 10:00pm sharp. It was being held off the hotel premises, for legal and logistical reasons. Though a shuttle bus was provided, we elected to take a taxi, since we were having dinner outside of the hotel beforehand. We arrived at the posh mansion early. We were welcomed to a reception any time after 8:00pm. We arrived at 8:30 at the guard house. There was a strict protocol to be adhered to. A guard met us at the gate, and checked us on the attendance roster (again, we were unable to peek at the number of participants). We were directed to a parking area, where we were met by an armed guard. We were shocked, but he was very polite. He led us to a locked door, and turned to address us. “Maam, sir, I must beg your indulgence. Though each couple in the Lottery is in a D/s relationship, for strictly moral purposes, we feel it necessary to ask EACH person if they are voluntarily committing to this of their own free will. I must assure you that once you enter these doors, you will not be permitted to leave the premises until the Lottery is complete.” He placed his hand on the butt of his gun, casually, but the message was clear. “I must ask you to each affirm that you understand what I just told you, and that you agree to the terms.” Mistress said “We do.”. The guard said “I’m sorry, Maam, but I must hear it from his lips.” “Yes, I understand.” I noted my voice was shaking when I said that. “Welcome to the Lottery, and good luck to you!” He handed us a card with my name on it. “Please hold this for the drawing.” He opened the door, and we went in. We were escorted by another (armed) guard to a large ballroom. There were a few couples milling about. My heart sank, but I consoled myself that there was still 90 minutes. We were quite early. We were greeted by Mistress Victoria. My Mistress introduced us. She welcomed us to the party, and let us know that her personal slaves were available to serve us in any way that might be within their power before the drawing. Mistress Victoria looked at my Mistress, and said “I do mean anything”. She snapped her fingers, and two collared slaves swiftly appeared to either side. Both were standing with heads bowed, nude, one female and one “male”. I use quotes because the male had absolutely no genitalia. While both their groins were hairless, scars were visible on his pubis, the telltale of a surgical removal of both his penis and testicles. My heart raced as I looked down. “Again, if there is ANYTHING they can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.” Mistress Victoria looked at me, though speaking to my Mistress, “After all, this may be his last chance.” “I would offer you the use of a slave with a penis, if any of my boys had one,” she chuckled, “Still, they are all quite gifted at giving pleasure, if you require.” My Mistress thanked her, but demurred. Mistress Victoria went to mingle with other guests, as we got some drinks, and began to do the same. Time ticked away, and only one more couple arrived. At 9:45, Mistress was visibly distressed. She approached Mistress Victoria. “Where is everyone? I understood there were about 150 couples last year!” “147 to be exact,” she replied. Since you have entered the premises and are irrevocably in the contest, I can tell you that 72 couples registered this year. The economy took quite a down turn, it seems. The whole convention was down in numbers.” My heart skipped a beat. My chances of “winning” had just more than doubled. “The busses should be along momentarily,” she concluded. At 9:50, another couple entered, followed by one of the armed guards, who hurriedly approached Mistress Victoria and whispered in her ears. She paused for only a moment, and whispered something back. I looked around the room. There were supposed to be 72 couples in here, in 10 minutes. There were currently eight. I noticed a pair of very serious looking armed guards appear by the door. I noticed two enter by a rear door. Each door was now covered by a pair of very frightening looking guards. Time kept ticking away. The other couples were also chatting nervously. Several Mistresses tried to confer with Mistress Victoria, who replied “I’ll explain everything at 10:00”. 10:00 came. I heard a clock chime somewhere. Mistress Victoria stepped up to a raised dais at the end of the ballroom, and bid us to approach. “It is 10:00pm. It’s time to start the lottery. I’m sure you’re wondering where all the other participants are. Well, as it happens, each of you arrived by your own transportation. The remainder of the participants were to arrive by shuttles from the hotel. Unfortunately, the 8:30 shuttle broke down just moments from the hotel. I am given to understand that the couples on that bus walked back to the hotel, and that all 64 couples boarded the pair of 9:00 busses we had available. Unfortunately, as they were crossing the bridge over the river, a chain-collision traffic accident occurred in front of them on the bridge. You’ll be happy to know that none of our friends were injured. Unfortunately, both busses were trapped on the bridge for over 45 minutes until broken down vehicles were removed. They called us, in transit, to inform us that they would arrive by 10:20. I had my assistant call the drivers, and ask them to return the couples to the hotel. Their money will be refunded. I fear this little venture will operate at a loss this year. Well, so be it.” One of the Mistresses called out, “What? It’s canceled then? Because they were going to be late?” “Oh, not at all. The rules are have been set out, and will be followed to the letter. We do not tell anyone how many participants are in the Lottery before hand. We do not allow anyone in without confirming their willingness to participate. We close the doors at 10:00, and begin the lottery. No exceptions. One contestant in this ballroom will have his manhood removed tonight, as has been done annually for 19 years. The Lottery will go on!” Seven of the couples (including us, I might add) erupted in protest. Only one Mistress remained silent. She was actually laughing. It was the British Mistress. I couldn’t recall her name.. We had talked to earlier. She said this was their fifth Lottery. They flew over every year. She loved it. A bevy of armed guards approached, some escorting a woman with a cart of medical equipment. The sight of so many weapons quieted the group. “This is Doctor ‘Suzanne’… you don’t need to know her real name. She has performed all of these procedures for us over the years, with excellent results. How many, now, Suzanne?” “19 here, she shouted, plus what? - about a dozen for your private stock, Victoria? Probably a few dozen other procedures for individual clients. None have every had complications!” replied the Doctor. “You’re in good hands,” concluded Mistress Victoria. My Mistress was livid, she turned to address one of the guards when we saw another Mistress try to push her way out of the room. That Mistress was pistol-whipped, and put in a chair. She sat groggily, holding her head. Seeing that took the steam out of my Mistress’s protests. “Please, people, let’s remain civil. You all knew this was a possibility. Let us begin. Slaves, please bring your cards and put them in the hopper,” said Mistress Victoria. A guard with his hand resting on his weapon appeared at my side. I sighed, and went to the dais, and put my name in with the other eight. “Alright, we’ll begin. We will draw names one at a time. If your name is called, you are safe. We have found it prudent to restrain the quarterfinalists before the last three draws.” With that, she began drawing names. Three were drawn, as my heart pounded in my chest. Mistress was clutching my hand so hard it hurt. A fourth card was drawn. My name was not called. I was in the final four. An armed guard immediately clamped onto my arm, and dragged me to the dais. We were all stripped, and our ankles cuffed to loops in the floor of the dais. Our Mistresses had all come prepared, and handed over keys to our chastity devices. The guards unlocked us all. We all stood naked. I noticed “Doctor Suzanne” looking us all up and down, appraisingly. Two more names were called. “Thomas, you are free to go…. Stephen, you are free to go.” Holy fuck! It was down to me and one other guy. We both stood there. My knees were shaking. Mistress looked frantic, but she could do nothing. We made eye contact. I smiled to her… trying to calm her down. This wasn’t entirely her fault. I had agreed to this madness. “We are down to our final two.” I noticed the other was the British Mistress’s slave. We looked at each other, but didn’t know what to say. Mistress Victoria drew the final card. She read the name and smiled. She paused for effect. “Michael, you are free to go.” Oh my god! Mistress shrieked in relief. The British Mistress hooted in delight, laughing cheerfully. We were all invited to watch Dr Suzanne work. Two couples left the room. Mistress elected to stay, so I remained at her side. With so few of us, we were able to be quite close as the poor bastard was strapped to a table for the procedure. Dr Suzanne installed an IV and asked the guy’s Mistress if he should have pain medications. The Mistress considered it for a moment and replied “No. He’s a very fine slave, but he IS a pain slut. Since this will be his final session of CBT, let’s let him experience it fully.” The slave started breathing hard, but I noticed he had a raging hard-on. He began to scream as Dr Suzanne approached with the scalpel. His Mistress shouted over the screams “You’ve fantasized about this for years! Don’t be such a wimp, Richard!” The End Postscript: Mistress is already saving her pennies for next years convention… and lottery. She said "It gave me such a rush!" Of course, I agreed to participate.
OMG...dollyanne read this story and it sounded sooo real!! Thank you, mike for the fantastic story, and dollyanne is glad you are still "intact"! Huggs,:manga_bunny: dollyanne
I did notice the name of the hero/almost victim. I am honoured. I have never had a story in my honour before.arty0023: