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Granted.

Date: 3/5/2015, Categories: BDSM, Fetish, Author: samsamtheplasterman, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

the television. "But first the lottery numbers for tonight." After the typical opening, an overly-smiling young woman came on to announce the numbers as they rolled out down their plexiglass tubes. "Our first number is eleven," she chirped. "Next is twenty-one. Followed by Thirty-one. We seem to have a pattern going. Yes, next is forty-one. Will the final ball keep to the pattern? Amazing, the final number is fifty-one." She paused to tell us about someone who had won a million dollars the previous week by getting all the white balls correct, and then she continued, "And our Big Ball number is....... number one!" She flashed an especially big smile at the camera and finished with, "If you picked all ones tonight you are four hundred and seventy-five million dollars richer. The number are '11, 21, 31, 41, 51' and the Big Ball number is '01'." Sandy screeched, "Those are your numbers." She was bouncing up and down on the bed. "You always pick all ones. Did you buy a ticket this week? Tell me you have a ticket!" I was sure I had a ticket, but I scrambled over to my pants and pulled out my billfold to just make sure. It was a multi-week ticket and was still good. I had won the lottery! "Wait a minute!" yelled Sandy. "You said wish granted when I wished that you were rich." "And when you wished for the body and mind of a 25 year-old," I answered. "And when I wished that I could be your slave," she replied, her face suddenly becoming very thoughtful. "Does that mean you wish you ... weren't?" I asked. "No, not really. I feel so free from everything else by being bound to you. But tell me, 'Master,' what in the hell is going on?" "Mickey's is open until two," I answered. "You won't believe me unless we go down there, so get dressed." She looked at me with a look of total confusion and asked, "Mickey's?" "It will make sense when we get there," I replied. As we walked to the Metro station, Sandy asked me repeatedly, "What does Mickey's Pub have to do with all this?" My only answer was, "I'll explain when we get there." Luckily a train had just stopped at the station as we arrived and we were able board immediately. With other people around us, Sandy stopped her questions and rode silently beside me for the twenty minutes it took to get back downtown. Mickey's was still full, but not packed, when we got there. Jack's booth was empty, as expected. I slid into the booth and motioned for Sandy to sit beside me. "It's easier to talk to you when I am facing you," she said and started to slide in on the other side where Julan was sitting with a rather surprised expression on his face. "That side's taken," I said quickly and pulled her in beside me. "Two dark ales and a white wine," I yelled over to the bar. "What do you mean taken?" asked Sandy. "And who is the second ale for?" "Julan," I answered. "He's sitting on the other bench of the booth." "There's no one there! Have you gone nuts? This is Crazy Jack's booth! Are you the new Crazy Jack? Is that what is going ...