"Remember the year when Graham Mattis collared his best friend, Josh Lightman?"
"Yeah, and they spent the whole summer hunting, fishing, and drinking!"
"Their wives were pissed! I mean nothing got done on either farm."
"I hope it's another case of a young couple who get married afterward. Those are SO romantic."
"Who knows what the lottery has in store this year?"
A hush fell upon the assembled crowd. The government lottery judge from the big city strode up to the podium.
"Citizens, I come to this small hamlet on the frontier to once again enact a ritual that has been part of our society for generations. Freedom -- political. personal, individual, can be taken away with the stroke of a pen or a stroke of fate. This annual ritual is a reminder of that truth.
The lottery is impartial. Even our leaders, their spouses, and adult children can be selected."
He paused. Every eye was on him.
"This ritual reminds us that our freedoms are a gift from providence. Providence grants it and Providence takes it away. All of us must be grateful for it while we have it. Now,, I'm sure nearly all of you have heard this, but every freedom raffle is someone's first. All citizens of age are required to enter their names which are placed in these large drums. In large cities, dozens of names are selected. Here, in your tiny but ever so beautiful town, just two citizens are offered up to providence. Those chosen at random will be collared and claimed by those who have won ownership of the collars. From this day, the summer solstice until the winter solstice, the first day of winter, those collared are the chattel slaves of their collar owners. Comes the Yule festival, comes their liberation and restoration to full citizenship. This year the length between each solstice is 184 days. The collar owners will receive a stipend so that they need not indulge in labor for their term as collar owners. This too is symbolic. Those who would take your freedom, would live off the fruits of your labor and become all high and mighty. This ritual is poignant with meaning and purpose. We may come here abuzz with anticipation and curiosity, to ogle and gossip, but this ritual is no exercise in random cruelty and salaciousness. If we are not constantly vigilant, ALL of us could end up being collared, and led away and forced to do things against our will."
With that, the nattily attired gentleman ended his prepared marks. The crowd politely and somberly applauded. The town band began playing the national anthem and everyone stood at intention impatiently waiting for the good stuff to begin.
The two government-issued drums were spun about on their cradles of ball bearings.
The government man had been replaced by the town mayor. His deep bass was heard all over the municipal park.
"Tradition has it that the collar owners are drawn first."
The red drum was spun vigorously while the band's trumpeter played a fanfare.
The barrel stopped spinning and the mayor's eight-year-old grandson was blindfolded and led to the now open barrel. He tugged out one wooden tile with the name of a citizen upon it. The mayor took the chip from his grandson's hand and read, "Gladis Hormel."
"Hot damn!" exclaimed the woman everyone in town knew as Granny Hormel. She was much admired around town. Her prematurely gray hair made her seem older than she was. The mayor was not much younger. She was a handsome woman but had sworn off men decades ago after her no-account drunkard of a husband stumbled into a horse trough downtown late at night and drowned. Granny Hormel baked cookies for birthdays, provided the "something borrowed" to all the town's new brides, provided small doweries to orphan girls, and presented each new mother in town with a christening dress for their newborns.
The crowd buzzed.
"If it's a man, she'll work him hard. If it's a woman, she'll be cooking all the time."
Granny Hormel strode forward and accepted the chromium and leather collar from the government man.
The black drum was spun. "If by some miracle the same name is drawn from both barrels, a second drawing will take place."
The blindfolded grandchild was led to the black barrel. He reached in as far as his left arm would let him.
"Ezekial Turner." Read the mayor. Guffaws broke out. Zeke was just eighteen. This was the first freedom lottery he had ever participated in and now he was to be a slave for much of the year to a woman old enough to be his grandmother! The young women present were struck by Zeke's athletic good looks. He was an apprentice out at the quarry which gave him such fine and firm muscles. That job would have to wait while he was at the beck and call of Granny Hormel. The lad flashed scarlet but made no protest as he scaled the stage to stand next to the mayor and the government man.
"The owner of the second collar," Intoned the mayor as the red barrel was turned about. The grandson reached in with enthusiasm and withdrew -- "Aaron Daily."
This was more like it! Granny Hormel would probably mother poor Zeke to death, but Twenty-year-old Aaron was known to flirt with all the ladies and girls in town. He had a fine home on the outskirts of town that was all his because of coming into his share of the mill when he came into his majority. He was dashingly handsome and owned a sparkling wit. Many of the young girls of the town crossed their fingers and prayed that the mayor's goofy grandson selected their tile. A pair of a young man and a young woman almost always resulted in a wonderful marriage when the collar came off and fueled the gossip mill right through winter and into the next year's Summer Solstice.
The towheaded boy's arm buried itself in the black barrel.
"Mariah Langston," read the mayor.
A loud gasp issued from off to the right. It had come from a forty-year-old blonde wife and mother of two who was still quite beautiful. The hum of the crowd increased. Now this was more like it! Aaron, in his fit and handsome youth, would have Paul Langston's wife as his personal slave for the next 184 days!
The crowd about the attractive woman parted. Her eyes went wide.
"There must be some mistake! Surely you can't expect me to..."
Her husband Paul looked at Aaron and his undisguised glee and pleaded with the mayor, "Bertram pick another tile!"
The government man stepped forward. "What does the great arbiter say? "Time and chance happen to us all." Providence chose your tile, Mrs. Langston. You must take the collar under penalty of law."
"If she refuses?" asked Paul.
"Forfeiture of her entire family's estate and holdings down to the last bit of gold, the last morsel of food, and the last square of cloth abiding for three generations."
The crowd recalled that was the law. No one had refused the collar, as far as anyone knew for a very long time.
The threat brought Paul Langston up short. While not wealthy like the mill owners or the merchants, he did well. His tall and beautiful daughters were sure to marry well. Nearly every young man in town had a crush on either Mary or Martha or both. The girls stood behind their mother, concern obvious on their attractive faces.
Paul grasped the suddenly tight collar of his shirt.
"You have to do it, darling," he whispered, "For my sake, for our daughters' sake."
"What about my sake, husband?"
"Your refusal makes us pariahs. They will take our house and all our worldly goods. I'll lose the print shop! Mary and Martha will be reduced to rags, to survive they might very well have to become fallen women. You must do this darling!"
A weight the size and shape of an anvil occupied Mariah's stomach as she forced herself to mount the short steps to stand next to Zeke.
The government man intoned, "By the authority vested in me by our great and glorious government, I ask our two collar owners to claim their property. From the point of the encircling of the collar until the Winter Solstice, this man and this woman are property with no rights, living at the complete whim of their masters. To those who own these collars, it is hoped that you rule mercifully and gently, as our government does its citizens."
Granny Hormel and Aaron Daily mounted the steps followed by the town farrier.
Zeke was collared first. The ring about his neck was sealed with solder and a hot rivet.
Zeke bowed down to Granny Hormel and the crowd applauded.
Mariah tried and failed to control her breathing as the collar was placed around her neck and the farrier set to the task of sealing it. When that task was completed, Mariah was hyperventilating. Aaron closed in and kissed Mariah deeply, shocking her into regular breathing again. The crowd cheered and hooted.
"Way to be the man, Aaron."
"I see you plan to use her well!'
"The shy ones always heat up nice."
And those were some of the milder proclamations! The farrier handed Granny Hormel and Aaron Daily short leather leashes which they then proceeded to hook to the collars Down the steps went Granny Hormel, Zeke in tow. Down the steps went Arron Daily, Mariah in tow. The crowd cheered and cheered.
Mariah caught a final glimpse of Paul and her girls before they were lost in the crowd. She felt like both the loneliest and most frightened woman in the universe. Zeke was philosophical. "At least I'll eat well." He reasoned.
Granny Hormel lived close to the park, in a small but comfortable house on Primrose Avenue. It wasn't a long walk.
"Can't wait to get you home, lad," she gushed. "First off, you are getting a bath and a decent haircut."
Zeke sought some intestinal fortitude. "At least I'll eat well," he reminded himself.
Aaron's home was on the outskirts of town, not far from the lumber mill he now owned. It was a newer house, replacing the one that had been there. Aaron felt the new one better reflected his status in life. When the mill was profitable, Aaron was one of the richest men in town. When times were lean at the mill, Aaron could usually float on his savings until things picked up. His late father had built the mill but died very young. Aaron idolized his memory. Becoming a big man at such a young age exactly fit his out-sized ambitions. He gazed at the woman at the end of his leash. Playing house for the better part of the year promised to be fun. They arrived at his buggy. He helped Mariah in, his hand sliding down her back and casually stroking her ass as he did so. The terrified housewife shivered.
Aaron slid into the driver's seat and urged the horse on.
At last, Mariah found her voice. "Mr. Daily, please be kind to me."
"I didn't give you permission to talk!" he barked.
Mariah sighed mightily. All during the long drive to Aaron's house he kept on hand on the reigns and the other on Mariah's thigh. She knew all too well how this night would end!
++
Granny Hormel opened the door to her house, twilight was descending so she lit some lamps. Zeke found it neat as a pin with doilies, lace, and other overtly feminine touches. She unhooked his leash and hung it by the door before giving Zeke a tour.
"Your room will be this one. It's small but suitable."
"Thank you, Granny Hormel."
"Oh, I get so tired of hearing that. Between these walls, I insist you call my Gladys"
"OK Gr.. G.. Gladys."
"Excellent! Now let's see what we are dealing with. She reached for the buttons of his jacket.
"What are you doing Gr.. Gladys?"
"Undressing you, boy. I have to inspect my property."
"But..."
The soft hands of her surprisingly firm grip were parting the buttons of his shirt.
"Wait!"
"I've seen naked men before; they are all pretty much the same."
**
