The 150th Slave: Alternative Ending

When it was over, She got up from the fourth guy, he left, she was toweled off and an old woman in a gray dress helped Chiara stand. They had Chiara lay back on a bed with a pillow behind her back, which thrust up her breasts. I knew what was coming. I was told that nipple piercing looks more painful than it is. I hoped that was true as they did both of her breasts. She grimaced and breathed very deeply. They cleaned the new piercings carefully and announced they would pierce her clitoral hood later that night after Chiara had been cleaned off.

Chiara smiled for the camera and nodded before turning and walking off into her new life.

Crystal said in the viewing room, "one lottery down, two to go." This was a bit insensitive but captured a portion of our complicated group of emotions. I was thinking the same thing myself and hoping that it would be two more.

When I got out of the viewing room, I realized my concern that Ferguson be notified that Chiara had lost was unnecessary. Ferguson had watched Chiara and was waiting for us with Anderson and Zorski. Kat ran off with Zorski. Improbable pairings followed. I accepted Ferguson's suggestion that we go to his suite in the hotel and "relax." Crystal left with her estranged husband.

I threw on the loose black dress that I had worn over my birthday suit to get to the Lottery. There had been no point in dressing up in my room just to strip down and put on a bikini bottom of the BLC's choosing.

What happened when we reached Ferguson's suite was a classic "hate fuck." He ripped off the black dress and bikini bottom as soon as I got through the door, pushed me on the bed and took off his clothing in seconds. He slammed into me with no preparation. This made no difference. I was quite ready. He fucked me like a jackhammer while I scratched his back hard enough to draw blood. In the space of 10 minutes, I had two of the most intense orgasms I'd ever had. He came in me like he was trying to inject venom into my heart through my vagina.

After we both caught our breath, I said something sweet like, "That was great, asshole, but what am I going to wear while I walk back to my room." He said, "Take one of my shirts, bitch, it will shock no one here to see you walking across the lobby wearing only a man's shirt with semen dripping from between your legs. I'll see you at the party."

I made sure there was no dripping before I left his room but, given the location of my room in the BLC part of the building, there was no way to avoid going through the lobby and passing the restaurants and other facilities that the two main parts of the building had in common. Ferguson was right that no one acted shocked seeing me but there were a lot of stares and cameras. Except to give the finger to a cameraman who got too close, I acted like I did not care. This was easy because at that moment I did not give a fuck what anyone thought of me.

I napped and washed up before the post-lottery party. The reception was kind of ego boosting in a perverse way. Everyone praised my performance during the interview and said that the comments Crystal and I made seemed to result in an immediate uptake in Special Viewer subscriptions. Also, my walk of shame through the hotel lobby in the afternoon when many people were milling around was acclaimed as a stroke of marketing genius that the BLC was already using to build the audience for the next two lotteries. Of course, pictures of me giving the finger to the asshole with the camera were featured prominently in the trade press.

Generally, Svetlana was ebullient about how the day had gone. "It was a super day for the BLC. Naturally, we would rather have had Mia or one of the other really high priced women, like Laurel and Crystal. The Machine picking Chiara instead of Mia immediately cost us about 250,000 euros and we could charge more for Mia as a slave, at least initially. Sometimes I think the Machine goes out of its way to spite us but Anders assures me it is all chance based on fancy physics. Then he starts talking about a cat in a box with poison gas. Anyway, I think Chiara is more beautiful than Mia and will make a superb slave."

I suppressed my loathing to ask Ferguson what his real name was. "Joseph Ferguson but Ferguson was not my name originally," he said. "And where do they create monsters like you?" I asked. "My mother was an attractive 18 year-old of German ethnicity living with her Nazi sympathizing family in Transylvania when the Soviet Army arrived in 1945. She decided she was better off offering herself to a Red Army colonel than being passed around the regiment. The colonel, Furmanov, turned out to be a pretty good guy and, not only protected her, but married her. Most of mother's family was sent to work camps in Siberia. My mother took that poorly, persuaded Furmanov to leave for the West and I was born in Austria.

"My parents came to New York in the late 50s when I was ten. I did not think in the late 60s that it would help my career to encourage questions that would lead to discovery of the fact that I was the progeny of a Nazi sympathizer and a Red Army officer. This was particularly true because I had reestablished contact with my father's family that had managed to move up in the Soviet Union despite father's seeming defection. I don't think father defected. He just moved and continued to work quietly for the Russians along with his other job. I changed my name to something more American. At least in the U.S., everyone loves the Irish. They never invaded anyone."

"Does every man active with the Lottery have a colorful family background in Central or Eastern Europe?" I asked. "Originally everyone was an acquaintance of Pyotr, Dimitry or Svetlana Tolski. Since Dimitry's accident, they have replaced the board members that were close to Dimitry with ladies and gentlemen from all over the world," Ferguson answered.

That was enough of Ferguson for a while. After the tasty dishes and very good French wine at the reception, I brought Boltzin back to my room. As no clothing was destroyed, he probably did not raise much attention when he left for wherever he lives at 4:00 AM.