Unlucky Lottery

I had clocked in around 7 AM when I got to work, just as I always had. The scanner usually lights up green when it reads my card successfully, red if there is some kind of error. But on this occasion, it lit up blue. I had never seen it be blue before, and there was no message on the display for why it did.

So I just went into the lab as usual and went to work, not paying any mind to it.

Somewhere between an hour and a half to two hours into my day, I received an instant message from George, the head of security, to go see him in Building 1. I worked in Building 2, just across the private company road. Building 1 was where they had the manufacturing facility for the pharmaceutical drugs they made. Building 2 consisted mostly of analytical labs where I worked. 

It took about 5 minutes to walk from my desk area in the lab to George's security office. It was a nice warm May day, and though I had come to work in a light leather jacket, I didn't bother putting it on to go across the street.

George retired from the police force, where he served as an officer of a nearby town in the county. He had served his time, and now in addition to his pension, he took a job as head of security in our company. I was clueless to whatever jobs he may have worked in between and how he landed the head of security position. I had guessed him to be a German American in his 60's. He had gray hair and a round face with puffiness around his brown eyes, with seemingly long eyelashes. He stood a few inches taller than me with a small pot belly. He usually wore white dress shirts with security patches I never really paid attention to, and navy blue pants. 

"Hi, George." I felt a bit timid, hoping I wasn't in some kind of trouble. I had absolutely no idea why he summoned me there, as I had forgotten about the time clock. He walked over and closed the door.

"Hello, Jim. Today is your lucky day. You registered the magic number on the time clock.. Guess what gets to happen now."

He said "happen".  Was he going to tell me I had the rest of the day off? He did say "lucky" too, though he does have a bad sense of humor.  

I just shrugged my shoulders with no idea what was going on.

"Are you familiar with SOP 1273? You have read it, haven't you. You were supposed to, anyway."

"I did read it, though honestly, I'm not really that familiar with it."

"Well, we can go over it if you like. But basically it says that because we deal with controlled substances at this facility, we reserve the right to conduct strip searches at random, at our discretion. And if you read the SOP, it says we use, or 'can' use, the time clock to draw a random person to be selected. To make it fair, that sorta thing. And today that person happens to be you. You may or may not have noticed, though you should have noticed, when you signed a document to join our company, that by signing your name to the document, you had agreed to be potentially subjected to this, if your number ever came up. Now of course you can refuse the search. But that would result in disciplinary action, up to and including termination for refusal to consent."

I had started with the company about 14 months prior, and I vaguely recalled getting a few multi page documents handed to me that I was asked to sign. I remember not wanting to sit there and read them, as I was somewhat anxious to keep things moving, and I felt I had trusted my new employer that I could get away without having to take the time to read all the fine print. Somewhere between not reading that stuff all the way through and my lack of familiarity with this SOP he mentioned, I managed to not see this coming. It was kind of shocking. I couldn't help but wonder, how far was he going to go.

"Why don't we start with emptying out your pockets for me. You can put the stuff right here on the desk. Leave the pockets sticking inside out, so I'll know that they're empty."

It seemed simple enough, although it was a good thing I didn't carry anything that would have been embarrassing, like a marijuana joint or a condom. Or worse yet, something that might actually incriminate me. Aside from my wallet in my right pocket and my keys and employee ID card in my left, I really wasn't carrying anything. My lab coat pockets are a different story, with all the implements, but I had hung my lab coat up before coming over.

There was a brief pause after I had placed the two items on his desk. He was moving his mouse around for something on his computer screen for a bit. Looking at my keys and wallet on his desk, I began to feel separated from them. It was an awkward feeling, complemented by the shock I was still feeling. I wondered if he would go through my wallet, but he didn't. I wondered if he was going to pat me down, but he didn't. I wondered if what he was paying attention to on his screen was related to what was now happening.

After a few minutes, or what seemed like it, he turned to me, glancing at what I left on his desk.

"Could you remove your shirt for me, please?" He turned back around to look at his screen. He seemed to be treating it like it was a mere formality in which he really had no interest.

I was wearing a navy blue polo shirt which was not tucked into my navy blue pants. Here was his first command to remove clothing, and I was stunned that this was happening. I grabbed the bottom of it and just lifted it up over my head and off it came. He seemed to have more attention on his computer than on me. So it didn't feel like I was doing a strip tease for him. I couldn't help but wonder if any women had gone through with this, and does he have them start with removing their blouse, top, or whatever. And does he stop at their bra, or do they remove that for him too. And is there a chaperone when it's a woman? All I knew is that it's me now, and just the two of us. 

After about a minute of standing there, holding my shirt, he turned back around. "I'll take that from ya," as he reached over and grabbed my shirt from my hand. He shook it a bit, and pressed the short sleeves with his hand. I couldn't believe this was happening. I really didn't want to say anything or question him, because I didn't want to deal with his arrogant attitude, which he tended to display on several occasions. But as he set my shirt on the back of his chair, I was beginning to feel separated from that as well. It felt like I was submitting to his power AND to his power trip, as it seemed he was taking possession of my belongings. I felt it best not to try and challenge what was happening, but rather to just get through it and get it over with. 

"Take your shoes and socks off for me, please. You can use the chair." He was referring to the chair against the wall. I sat down, untied my sneakers and took them off. I followed with sliding off my white socks. I looked down at the black floor, trying to discern if it was clean or not, since my feet were about to be standing on it. I figured I would check the bottom of my feet later, and see how dirty they would wind up getting.

After removing the last sock, George reached his hand out, as if he wanted me to hand my socks to him. After handing them to him, he turned them inside out, before restoring them back the other way and setting them down on top of my shirt, over the back of his chair. He bent over and picked up my sneakers, shook them around briefly, before dropping them back to the floor.   

"Stand up for me, please."

I felt uneasy as I rose to my feet. It seemed his attention was now more on me than anything else, and he was definitely exerting his power. I stood there in front of him, wearing only my navy blue pants, and of course what was underneath.

"Pants, please."  He said it in a softer voice than his previous commands. He must have thought I would be wearing some boxers or briefs. And usually I do. Except if I haven't done laundry and therefore don't have any that are clean, or if I'm feeling sexy when getting ready for work, and I want to feel that way all day.  

In which case, like today, I would wear a jockstrap.

But the crazy thing is, ever since I was 13, I've tried to avoid letting anyone see me wearing one. I think I'd rather be caught nude. Ever since that first time I put one on and it looked and felt like sexy male lingerie, it made me too self conscious to be seen wearing it. Before and after gym class, I had always managed to find a bathroom stall I could change in, so I had gotten away with avoiding being seen. 

I slowly unbuckled my belt, as if I felt unsure of what I was doing. This was going to be the first time someone would see me wearing a jockstrap. I felt utterly submissive, like I had no choice. I grabbed my zipper between my thumb and forefinger, slowly lowering it. I would have given anything to be anywhere else but there. Within mere seconds, I would be standing there without my pants, wearing only a jockstrap. 

I grabbed the top of my unzipped pants and started to slowly lower them. I couldn't look at George's face, and so I couldn't be sure if he was watching me. I looked to the ground as I bent over to lower my pants down to my feet and stepped out of them. With them off and in my hand, I began to stand back upright. I saw George's hand reaching out for them. Reluctantly, I handed them to him as if it would be the last thing he could take from me. As the pants left my hands, I instantly put one palm over the other and held them over the pouch of my jockstrap, hoping this would be it. George gave my pants a brief shaking before setting them down on top of my shirt and socks. 

"Oh, wow, look at this! Is that a jockstrap? That's a surprise. Your reflex mentality is to cover up, and that's normal. But I have to briefly detain you, so I can finish my job."

With that he took a pair of handcuffs out of a case on his belt with one hand, as he grabbed hold of my left arm with his other hand. Stepping behind me, he drew my left arm behind me, cuffing it. As he stood behind me with my strap framed buttocks clearly visible to him, he grabbed my right arm and drew it behind me and cuffed it. I now couldn't protect myself from being seen, and I felt like I was on display. I felt humiliated by being seen in a jockstrap, and now even more humiliated by being handcuffed.  I felt so vulnerable to him, as if he had complete power over me. Which he did. He had me stripped and handcuffed after all.

"This looks like one of them old kind." His gaze on my pouch started to send blood rushing to my penis. "Mind if I touch it?" He went ahead and felt the pouch, not waiting for me to answer. I stood there helplessly handcuffed, vulnerable to him touching me as he pleased. His touching was very brief, but it seemed like an eternity. For some reason I didn't really understand, I was becoming aroused.

Up until now, I would be grossed out at the thought of being touched by another man. I could hardly stand being touched by a male doctor, and had switched to a female doctor as soon as I could find one many years ago. 

"One last thing. I just need to take a quick peek, and then I'll let you go, and you can get dressed. He grabbed the waistband and pulled it away from me a little so he could look inside. It was all my penis needed to burst upwards and out of the pouch. It seemed like it took him aback he let go of the waistband immediately, causing it to snap back against my erect penis, which was now sticking up and outside of my jockstrap.

"Oh, my God. I'm sorry. You can get dressed now." He grabbed my clothes on his chair and handed the pile back to me, trying not to look at me, as I was trying to tuck me penis back in the jockstrap at a diagonal angle. I threw the shirt and socks down on the chair while I hurried to get my pants back on. I sat down to put on the rest, trying to make sense out of what caused me to get an erection.

Right as I had finished dressing, he told me, "You're free to go. Sorry for any inconvenience. (It's) just policy. Have a nice day."

I found it hard to concentrate on work the rest of the day, as I kept thinking about the fact a man actually caused me to have an erection. I couldn't wait to get home after work and masturbate to the experience I went through, that evidently caused me to get excited. 

Alas, when I was finally home, I didn't waste any time getting down to re-enacting my experience from that morning. I stripped down, in the same manner I had done in George's office. I even used my own handcuffs to cuff my hands behind my back. But I was missing having someone touch me while my hands were cuffed. I eventually uncuffed myself, slid my jockstrap down and masturbated. I felt like someone else should have been doing it instead, while I would be standing with my hands cuffed behind me.