“Hi sexy,” said Sandy to Carl.
He looked up from the ground where he was sat, surrounded by his few meagre possessions. Was the cute girl mocking him? Was that cruelty in her brown eyes or was it actually a spark of desire? He hadn’t been looked at that way in a long time. Was he being set up for a joke?
“Don’t talk much, cutie?” she said to him, “I’m not kidding around, you know, I really do think you look like a nice guy.”
“If this is some kind of insult?” he asked. She caught the weariness in his voice.
“No insult, hon. You’re clearly down on your luck, thought I’d try cheering you up. Or don’t you like it when a woman takes the lead?”
Carl was flummoxed. He liked that just fine, but he’d been on the streets for four months now, and it didn’t feel like he deserved such praise. Not anymore.
Sandy spoke again, “I’ll see you around, don’t be a stranger.”
Sandy kept coming back to see him, drawing him out, finding out as much of his story as he would tell. She sized him up. Underneath the dirt and the bad clothes there was a good body there. No drug use to speak of, and he seemed amenable to her always taking the lead. She started bringing him food and water, a few clothes, little things to make his life easier.
Sandy hunted through the streets for Carl, knowing this would be the day. It was dark, cold, wet, and showed no signs of getting any better. The boy’s resolve had been weakening these past few weeks; he no longer treated her with the same suspicion he had those first few times. Now they were friends, of sorts. She rounded the corner and spotted him in a doorway.
“Carl! Oh I’m so glad I found you! You must be so cold out here.”
“Hi Sandy,” said Carl, his teeth chattering, “I’ll be fine. Had worse nights.”
“I doubt that. Why aren’t you in a hostel?”
“Don’t get on with any of them who stay there.”
“Will you be all right? I’m worried about you, Carl,” she said. It was a half-honest thing to say. She had no use for him dead, after all. And it would be a better life than this, at least in most ways.
“I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t think that’s true. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Sure we are. You’ve never asked for anything from me, and you’re a good person to bring me all this food. Why?” he asked, suspicion rising.
“Won’t you come stay at my house, just until it gets warmer?” Or at least, she thought, until she could have him shipped out.
Carl hesitated. Sandy saw the doubt in his eyes, knew he was wavering. She offered him a flask, filled with hot, steaming tea. He drank some down as he thought it over. Sandy watched for the tell-tale signs, skin flushing, pupils dilating. After less than two minutes, the drugs seemed to have taken effect. They were subtle, gentle things, only reinforcing something the subject already wanted to do.
“Please, Carl, come stay with me.”
He suddenly felt the dam inside him break. He really could trust her, couldn’t he? It seemed like the logical next step. He got up, gathered his things, and followed her to her car. It was warm inside and he felt like he could almost drift to sleep there and then. Sandy drove her car into the garage, making sure no one was on the dark street to see them enter. She gave Carl a hot meal and more tea, then sent him to bed.
Sandy waited half an hour and then crept upstairs, opening the door to the spare bedroom. Its carefully oiled hinges gave no hint of her entrance, and she moved quietly through the sparsely furnished room to Carl’s side. She needn’t have taken such care, but in her line of business it paid to be cautious. Carl slept deeply, the extra drugs she had given him now hard at work. She set down her kit bag next to the bed and opened it up.
Sandy pulled the covers aside and cut away Carl’s underwear with her shears, exposing a nice cock and balls, which she thought were a bit on the hairy side. She produced heavy shackles from the bag and locked his arms and legs, spread-eagled, to the stout bedposts. Then she had Carl inhale a vapour that would rob him of the ability to speak for the next twelve hours.
Sandy took up a syringe, labelled only “Z”. She jabbed it into Carl’s backside and pushed down on the plunger, then whispered good night to the sleeping boy. She had used Z on enough males now to know just how to handle a Zombified male. When he woke, she would condition him to be unable to escape for the next three days, while she waited for Fem-tech Industries to collect him. Leaving the helpless captive to sleep, she sent an encrypted email to her boss. Capture complete.
Olivia prepared herself for the final interview. She wanted this job like no other. Femtech never recruited openly; when they had approached her, she had had to sign a lengthy non-disclosure agreement just to get them to tell her they might be interested in hiring her. She knew, now, that they hired just women, engineers mostly, and then only after an extensive and secret background check before the first approach was even made.
She had no problem working for a female-only company. As the superior sex, she thought all businesses should be female-led. Her succession of boyfriends had varied in the extent to which they agreed with her. The best had lasted four months before she had grown bored with him, but she had savoured punishing and humiliating him almost every day. She had taken his anal virginity with her strapon, another notch on its belt. Femtech demanded no attachments from its prospective employees, so she had gotten rid of him. She had fed information on him to another local domme, even a few pictures. A few weeks later, she had received some back – he seemed happy as that domme’s newest slave, which was just as well. As far as Olivia could tell, his new position in the domme’s household was a permanent one.
Olivia adjusted her suit and waited to be called in. There didn’t seem to be any other candidates attending today, so she wasn’t quite sure what the wait was for. She hitched up her knee length black leather boots, which made her feel powerful, desirable. They matched her hair too, black against her pale skin. Her mind wandered to the time she had given a spanking wearing the outfit, but she brought her thoughts back on track. A few minutes later, she was called in.
Olivia went through into the interview room, at the back of a small office, obviously rented temporarily by Femtech. She was pleased to find the two interviewers, both female, obviously, to be dressed much as she was. They motioned her to sit down and ran through her work experience and qualifications; both impressive for one so young.
“I’ll be honest with you, Olivia,” said the lead recruiter, a tall asian woman who had introduced herself as Julie, “we already know you’re qualified. But I want to ask you some more personal questions to see if you’d be the right fit for us. Would that be OK?”
“That would be fine, Julie,” said Olivia, smiling.
“Excellent, thank you. What do you think of men, Olivia?”
Olivia paused, taking the time to think about her response. She knew that Femtech had done some digging into her background. How far had they gone? What kind of question was this, anyway? It was a strange interview, but then it was a strange company, operating in the shadows. She still didn’t know what they actually made, only that it required skilled engineers. She breathed in and decided to answer honestly.
“I think they’re the inferior sex,” she said, relieved to be able to to just say it out loud. Both interviewers nodded in response.
“Go on,” said Julie, “please tell me more.”
“Where do I start?” she laughed, “It’s just so obvious. They’re less intelligent, less empathetic, much more suited to follow than to lead. They’ve messed up this whole world, suppressed countless women of potential, and for what? So they can keep having the same pissing contest all over again.”
The interviewer skilfully drew Olivia out on the finer points of male inferiority. She confirmed that Olivia thought just as they did, that all men should serve under female leadership. That the world as it stood was unjust. That it would take a revolution to turn things around.
“What makes you want to work for Femtech?”
“You give female engineers like me a real chance, it seems. That’s enough.”
“Let me tell you a little more about Femtech,” said the lead interviewer. By this time, the only exit to the interview room was guarded by four well-trained women, armed with cattle prods and tasers. They kept themselves very quiet, so the interviewee would never know they were just beyond the door.
“Femtech wants women to lead. To lead everything, that is. We’re a female-led engineering firm, and we specialise in technologies of male control and restraint.”
“What?” said Olivia, stunned.
“Technologies that, when used on male humans, can bring them under female control. Technologies of restraint that can prevent male violence. Drugs that can turn a man obedient, for a short time. Inventions that harness men – sometimes quite literally – to the female will. Technologies we want you to develop, improve, reinvent.”
“Oh,” said Olivia, then fell silent. She had fantasised about such a world, even written a manifesto for such a society and published it anonymously on the web. Now she found that a group of women not only thought like she did, but had done something about it.
“How do you develop these technologies?” asked Olivia.
“We test them on slaves. I myself own four men. A slave would be provided to you if you were offered a job with us.”
“When you say slaves, do you mean volunteers, men who want to be slaves?”
“A few are volunteers, lifelong members of the femdom community who our recruiters picked up. Many are not – we enslave men, against their will. It’s a for a greater good. Let me give you a minute to process this.”
“No need,” said Olivia, “sign me up. That is, if you’re offering me a job. And I think you’d be a fool not to.”
The interviewer smiled. She looked to her colleague, who nodded her assent.
“Indeed we would, Olivia. Now, there is some unpleasantness next. Our business is criminal. We already scanned you for bugs when you came in, and you have been followed for months, so we know you are not working for the authorities. However, that’s no guarantee you wouldn’t have a change of heart.
“I need you to do a few things for me. I need to question you under the influence of sodium pentathol, and using an advanced polygraph of our own design. When that’s done, I need to send you home with some, well, some guards, who will help you pack, and will not leave your side until you fly out to our compound in America.
Will you consent to all this? You do have one other option – we can administer amnesia right now, wiping your short-term memory for the last few hours. You’d wake up in hospital, being told you’d passed out during the interview. So, make your choice: leave your old life behind – we already know you’ve no attachments or family to speak of – or forget this ever happened.”
“I’m in!” said Olivia. She had never been more sure of anything.
“Well, then,” said the interviewer, “let’s get you started.”
Marie admired the handsome twenty-year old boy kneeling worshipping her pussy, his arms and legs tied up with climbing rope, so that he was quite helpless. These backpackers were so easy, she thought, that it was almost funny. He had been hiking through the forest alone, along rarely used trails. She had met him there, on one such path, having tracked him for days.
Dean, yes, she remembered his name now, flicked his tongue over her clit so divinely, sending pulses of heat through her body. She had tracked a dozen candidates just like him, submissive down to the bone, and likely to travel soon. This one had been in the right place at the right time. She had seduced him easily, travelling alongside him, steering him cleverly towards her cabin, with the helicopter landing site so near. The tall, slim, brown-haired boy didn’t know what he’d let himself in for, but would find out soon.
She let him worship her to a shattering orgasm then played with his cock, edging him several times over the course of an hour. He was begging to be allowed to cum by then, truly begging. The fear was just starting to show in his eyes. He realised he really couldn’t get out of the ropes she had bound him with. Her knots were sturdy, and the rope was strong. He wasn’t going anywhere until she let him.
“I’ll let you cum if you lick me to another orgasm,” said the slaver to her captive.
He agreed readily, diving into her pussy with his tongue, driving her wild with the youthful eagerness of his worship. She came hard, then had him lick her clean. When she was finished with him, she pushed him down onto the floor, where he collapsed in a heap. The ropes held fast, biting into his skin. They burned as he struggled against them, to no end.
Marie went over to her bag, quite naked, and took out a tranquilliser gun. She aimed it in the moonlight and hit the shrieking male squarely in the buttock. He slumped down, passed out in seconds. She took her time caging him, getting rid of his pubic hair and locking up his cock as she went. Then she signalled the helicopter to land. They loaded the naked, caged male onboard and flew to their private airstrip, where they redirected to Femtech’s base.
Marie wondered if the boy would be a personal slave for a new member of staff, or a test subject. Perhaps a bit of both. When she got back to Femtech’s compound, she had her own slave draw her bath, then fucked him with her strapon until she practically passed out from exhaustion. She had missed the company of a male who truly knew his place, just as he had missed the presence of his owner, whose strapon he had accepted like a gift from his goddess. Now that she had reconnected with the slaveboy, she didn’t want him in her bed that night. She caged him and slept soundly, safe again in the embrace of Femtech’s isolated, female-ruled grounds.
Olivia stepped off the private plane and onto the tarmac of Femtech’s landing strip, nestled in a wide expanse of forest and farmland, quite cut off from the rest of society. On the flight in, she had seen private roads, steep cliffs and checkpoints kept visitors away, and the company paid its taxes just like any other, staying off the radar of the authorities.
Femtech’s compound was a clump of glass domes, each hundreds of yards across. They let in the light but were impenetrable to satellites or long lenses. All the privacy Femtech would ever need was contained in those domes. The usefulness of Femtech’s medical and restraint systems to countries around the world meant no one was willing to ask too many questions about how they were developed.
A stunning black woman approached Olivia in a jeep, pulling up next to the plane. A male hopped out of the jeep behind her, fully clothed. When Olivia peered closer, she could see something implanted into his neck – a subdermal collar that could shock and disable the slave in an instant. Olivia was impressed.
“Welcome, Olivia. This is my personal slave, Jack. He’ll take your bags. How was your flight?”
“It was wonderful, thank you. Very relaxing.”
Olivia had been waited on hand and foot by a naked male slave, who had served her every whim. He had brought her food and wine, all delicious and high-quality, then gave her two of the best orgasms she had ever had. When the plane had been about to land, he had apologised for the distress it might cause her to see him get dressed again. He was broken to the female will and knew his true place was naked and leashed, but Femtech couldn’t risk a single satellite catching an image of a naked slave. A male could only display his true purpose – slavery – behind closed doors or inside Femtech’s large domes.
“My name’s Marie,” said the woman who had come to greet Olivia, “let’s get going to the compound.” She had her slave load Olivia’s bags into the jeep then set off towards one of the peripheral domes, where Olivia’s quarters were located.
“We’ll get you settled in as soon as we can. Can I run over the ground-rules with you one more time?”
Olivia sighed, but relented, “Of course. Please do.”
“Thanks. I’m sorry to keep drumming these into you, but they’re for your protection as much as ours. For the next two years, your only contact with the outside world will be to send supervised emails and text messages. This is to ensure your loyalty. We find some of our women waver in the first year of working for us, but never by the end of the second.
“Respect other women’s property, by which I principally mean their males. If you see a woman harm or torture a male, that is her right. Jack?”
“Yes, mistress?” said the eager slave to his owner.
She simply laughed and pressed a button on a remote control. Jack’s body convulsed with pain as his collar shocked him repeatedly.
“Thank you for punishing me, mistress,” said the shaken slaveboy once he had caught his breath.
“That’s a good boy, Jack. See, Olivia? They understand what they are. He’s my property and it’s my right to treat him just as I like.”
“I see,” said Olivia. She was already getting a little wet again. “When do I get a slave?”
Marie laughed, “You’ll be able to pick one soon enough. But let’s stay focused. Ground-rules again. You are restricted to the domes and the immediate surroundings, in a radius of four miles. The anklet you agreed to wear is impossible to remove for the next two years and will disable you if you breach that perimeter. Sorry. It’s a necessary evil.
“If you decide to leave our employment, we can wipe your memory of up to two years. Such a decision is irrevocable – no one makes it lightly.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” said Olivia. She felt like she had come home.
“Food is provided free of charge, but alcohol, drugs, clothes and other sundries need to be paid for from your wages. You are required to apprentice with at least two different departments during your time here, and are encouraged to take on secondments with as many areas as you can. You never know what hidden talents you might discover. I started out as an engineer like you, but my real passion is capturing men in the wild. It’s just a different kind of problem solving, really.”
“So you get to go out there and enslave males?”
“Oh yes! I take a few a year. The rest of the time I train the new ones, or work abroad demonstrating our products to clients. There are half a dozen like me – we occasionally break our males, you see, so we need fresh ones coming in. And every time we take on a new employee, she needs a slave too.”
“I’m looking forward to that part,” said Olivia, as her eyes roved over Jack’s well-developed body. She wondered if all the slaves looked this good.
Marie thought for a few seconds. “I guess that’s really the main ground-rules we wanted to emphasise,” she said, pulling the jeep up to the dome’s entrance.
She led them inside, having her slave follow with Marie’s bags. The doors opened automatically at her approach – though never at the approach of an unaccompanied male. The first thing that hit Olivia was the heat. The air inside the domes was maintained at a pleasant level, slightly humid, higher than room temperature. Marie clicked her fingers and Jack slipped out of his overalls in a flash, baring every inch of his body to the women’s eyes.
He folded the overalls neatly and stowed them in a cupboard next to the entrance, then picked up Olivia’s bags again. Her eyes drifted down to his cock. It was locked in a chastity device of some sort, formed of a metal mesh that was almost transparent. His right hip was branded with Femtech’s logo, and on his belly was tattooed ‘Slave 2769’.
“I see you noticed the tattoo,” said Marie, “they need them so we can keep track. I’ll give you a small tablet that’s hooked into our network – you can look up any male’s number on there and see what his role is, who he belongs to, what you can and can’t do with him. You can call him by his number and he’ll respond just like he will to ‘Jack’.”
“Which is his real name?” asked Olivia.
“Both, really. I named him Jack, I thought it suited him. The number means even if I sell him and his name gets changed, we can still trace his chain of owners. It’s important for their medical and training records, you know. This places runs on those slave numbers. Let’s get you to your quarters, anyway. Come, Jack,” said Marie, clipping a long chain leash to the d-ring that was attached to the slave’s subdermal collar, looking to the outside world just like a piercing.
“Yes, Mistress,” said the naked male. It felt good to be back on his owner’s leash. He followed behind her, just as she had trained him to. He understood the need to wear clothes outside – so that no one would disrupt their way of life – but it irked him. He felt the need to be naked in her presence, to show he was her property, owned and powerless. It was a shame he had to carry these bags. He would have preferred to crawl.
“You’ll find we have a relaxed work ethic,” continued the experienced slave hunter, “you can work long days or short days, take a whole week off to recharge when you like. It’s up to you. I’ll be honest – the company makes enough money from innocuous medical implants to last for decades. What we want from you is your creativity, your new ideas. We want you to help us with our real goal.”
“And what’s that?” asked Olivia.
“World domination,” replied Marie. Without pausing, she went on, “Within the next hundred years, before it’s too late for the planet, we want to enslave every male on Earth. Then we’ll build a paradise.”
Olivia walked on in stunned silence. Her mind was already turning over the possibilities. She knew what trouble the planet was in, and it was obvious that male destructiveness was the key cause. Could she really help save the world, and live the luxurious life of a slave owner at the same time? She smiled and laughed as the realisation hit her. She could, and she would.
Marie led them through a wide courtyard, arrayed with lawns, flowers and cool fountains. Here and there women and their slaves walked, played, even fucked. The dome had many such courtyards, each surrounded by a cluster of buildings. Marie wove her way through the twisting paths that ran between them all, turning the few hundred yards of the dome into a dizzy labyrinth, seeming to possess so much more space than its exterior suggested.
Marie stopped, visibly sweating. Olivia was finding the heat oppressive too. Marie bent down and took off her shoes, then began to undo her dress. Olivia had spotted a few women walking around in bikinis, even topless. It seemed like that was commonplace here, in the warmth and safety of the dome. Olivia watched as Marie stripped completely naked, folding up her clothes into a bag, then handing it to Jack to carry.
Marie raised her eyebrows at Olivia. The new girl was welcome to strip too. Olivia smiled but shook her head. She thought she would keep her clothes on for now, but it was obvious she was going to have to get used to a different way of life here. Marie led her on to her quarters, on the ground floor of a four-storey building that nestled around a copse of trees and a babbling brook.
The quarters were light but cool, kept that way by an ingenious design of airflow. They were well-appointed, though they had only one bedroom, with a small kitchen and a larger bathroom.
“You can make meals here but we mostly eat together in the larger refectories. It’s more efficient and you don’t need to cook for yourself that way, or to train your slave to do it for you. We like efficiency here. You have a private bathroom but you’re welcome to use the communal one as well; it’s down the hallway and to the left. Some of us enjoy bathing together.”
“Does everyone walk around naked all the time?”
“It’s a common sight, yes! Some of us prefer our bodies this way, others like to wear bikinis, light summer clothes, anything cool really. You’ll have to get used to meetings where the chairwoman is wearing nothing; it’s one of the ways we power dress. A woman here can choose to be naked, you see. For a male, it’s just the state we impose on them, to take away the very last of their power. For us, it’s a statement of independence.”
“I guess I’d better learn to enjoy it, then,” said Olivia.
She explored her new quarters as Marie pointed out its features. Modular furniture that she could move or reconfigure as she liked. Eyelets and other fixing points for chaining up slaves, dotted all around the room. She showed how she could lock Jack to one by his collar, limiting his sphere of movement to the length of a chain. The door had a special sensor that would detect the chips implanted in every male the women had enslaved. It would not open for them. No male could pass through any door unescorted.
“Would you like something to eat?” asked Marie.
Olivia shook her hand. She had eaten on the plane.
“Something to drink?”
Olivia had already poured herself some water, and wanted to keep a clear head.
“What I really want, Marie, is to get myself one of those,” she said, pointing at Jack.
“I thought you might, but you need to wait until tomorrow. There are four other new arrivals coming – other bright young women like you. We have twenty-five slaves available for the five of you to choose from; some trained and some completely unbroken. But you have to be together to choose. It’s not an auction or anything like that – you rank the males by order of preference, then negotiate if there’s a conflict. For now, though, if you like, I can lend you Jack?”
“Are you sure?” said Olivia. She was still a little startled that a man could just be lent out like this. But then they did exist to serve, she supposed.
“Absolutely sure. You can use his tongue, fuck his ass with a strapon up to 1.75 inches in diameter, and you can spank him with your hand or a paddle, but not so as to leave him black and blue or break the skin. You’ll find some equipment in one of your cupboards. I’ll want him back in a few hours – let’s say at 7pm. How about I come back for him then?”
Olivia walked over to Marie and hugged her. “That would be perfect, Marie. Thank you!”
“Here, take his remote control. This button will shock him if he’s bad. Don’t overuse it. In any case, his mind is completely enslaved. I’d be surprised if you had to use it.”
With that, Marie slipped out and went to visit Femtech’s harem, where some of its best-trained pleasure slaves were kept. She rented out her favourite older male, and settled in for an afternoon of facesitting. In her quarters, Olivia looked at Jack’s handsome, slim body, hairless and tanned.
“Kneel, slave,” she said. Her heart leapt as he obeyed instantly, kneeling with his legs spread so that his caged penis dangled on display.
Olivia noticed that the slaveboy was looking at her feet rather than up at her. She clicked her fingers and told him to look at her. His pretty dark eyes met hers, with a look of deep submission she had never seen before. It left her wanting more. She looked the slaveboy over. He could be in his mid-twenties, she thought, perhaps a little older. She would learn later that Femtech had a strict minimum slave age of eighteen.
Olivia wondered how to get started. She was hot and sticky in her formal clothes, and needed a bath. She told Jack to go into the bathroom and run her one. He complied, crawling on hands and knees, his lovely cock and balls on display as he went. He crawled because he had not been ordered to stand. If he never had been ordered to stand again, he would have spent the rest of his life on hands and knees. Some slaves did.
Olivia stripped slowly as the bath filled. She got down to her underwear and hesitated. She felt confident in her body, with its c-cup breasts and gently curving hips. Marie’s words came back to her, and she realised that as she stripped in sight of the slave watching her through the open door of the bathroom, she wasn’t undressing anymore. Hers was no longer a vulnerable body, to be hidden away. She unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor. Jack’s cock cage twitched. Olivia giggled. There was no threat in his eyes, just earnest desire.
Olivia hooked her slender fingers into her knickers and was about to take them off when Jack finished running the bath.
“Miss,” he said reverently, “your bath is ready. Does Miss wish this humble slave to bathe her?”
“Good slave,” she said, “and yes, you will bathe me. She strode up to the kneeling male, bringing her knickers close to his face. “Take my knickers off, slave. Carefully. With your teeth.”
“Yes, Miss,” he said.
Jack shuffled towards her and stretched out his neck. He felt the subdermal collar beneath his skin, an ever-present reminder that he was a piece of property. He opened his mouth and let it rest on Miss Olivia’s knickers, then gently closed his teeth, snagging the cotton between them. Reverently, he pulled down, revealing the superior woman’s shaven pussy with its landing strip of jet black hair. He slid her knickers all the way to floor, then stayed there waiting for her to step out of them.
Olivia stepped out with one leg, then the other. On a whim, she planted her foot on the slave’s neck as he knelt, still with her wet underwear in his mouth. She kept him there a little while, pinned like an animal, with her scent filling his nostrils and her taste soaking into his tongue.
“Good boy. You may let go of my knickers now and kneel up.”
Olivia climbed into the bath, finding that the slave had scented it with fragrant oils. The water was warm but not too hot; just right for the ambient temperature. Jack was obviously well-trained. Olivia submerged her head, getting her long jet-black hair wet and ready to be washed. Jack moved to the bath, kneeling beside it, and began to massage her shoulders with strong fingers.
“That’s a good boy, Jack. Keep rubbing my shoulders.”
“Yes, Miss. Thank you Miss.”
“Why do you call me ‘Miss’, Jack? Why not ‘Mistress'”
“Slaves call their owners ‘Mistress’ here, Miss, or some other title their owner chooses. Every other woman we call ‘Miss’.”
“How long have you been a slave, Jack?”
“Seven wonderful years, Miss.”
“Wonderful years? So you like it?”
Olivia could tell the boy really meant it. She let his hands work out the tension from her body, letting it all float out into the warm scented water. She wondered how long it might take to break a slave to the point they were grateful for it.
“Tell me, slave, what’s wonderful about being a slave?”
“Miss, I was taken when I was twenty. I was lost, desperate, alone, almost suicidal. My mistress found me on a bridge, in the middle of the night, looking over the edge. She took me in her arms, told me everything would be all right. Like an angel, she saved me. She locked the handcuffs on me, left my note under my shoes on the side of the bridge, then took me away. I’ve lived a life of happy obedience ever since.”
“Do you mind being naked?”
“No Miss,” said the slave, his voice filled with a strange kind of power, “this is my natural state. As a free man, I was always hiding behind something. As a slave, I can just be me.”
“And what it does mean to be you?”
“Miss, it means to serve faithfully and be owned lovingly.”
“You love your owner?”
“Oh yes, Miss. And she loves me. As a slave, not as an equal. But love is love.”
“That’s nice, slave.” Olivia found she meant that. It was no bad thing for a slave to be loved. “Now, wash my hair.”
Olivia let Marie’s devoted possession wash her hair, then guided his willing hands to the rest of her body. She had him massage her breasts, so that her nipples grew hard under his questing fingers. She had him suck them then, just a little; he worshipped all female bodies, and this one was particularly worthy of it.
Olivia had the slave wash her all over. She let him clean the sweat and grime from her with sponges and oils, and with the slave’s willing tongue when the fancy took her. He worked his way from her head to her toes, getting her cleaner than she had ever been. Every time he soaped, rinsed or massaged a new part of her body, Olivia felt herself settle deeper into her new role as a goddess.
She could see how excited the slaveboy was. In its cage, his cock strained and twitched. In his eyes, she saw a fire of lust burning, tempered with the restraint of a man who knows his life’s purpose is to follow the orders of the women he serves. She let his hands roam over her, bringing his fingers inside her pussy for a little while, then sending them back to their task. She laughed when she heard him whimper in frustration as his fingers left her.
Olivia stood up in the bath and had the slaveboy shave her legs, under her arms, then all the parts that no one else had ever shaved before. He focused on the task, wielding the razor deftly, never so much as nicking her skin. Olivia preferred her pussy shaved; she didn’t need hair there to feel dominant. Her smooth mound was a symbol of dominance, of choice.
Olivia had Jack dry her with a warm towel, then walked back into the main room of her quarters, still naked. Jack crawled behind her and knelt in the middle of the floor, on display, waiting to be told what to do. Olivia sank down into a wicker chair, cool and comfortable, and opened her legs. Jack’s eyes fixed on her clit, moving between it and her wet vagina, up and down.
“Come here, slave. Show me what that tongue of yours can do.”
“Yes, Miss,” said Jack.
He crawled to Olivia, finding his way between her legs, and let his tongue do its work. He flicked it ever so lightly over her clit, tenderly and slowly. Jack knew all sorts of ways to lick pussy, and tried a few out on his owner’s new friend. When he buried his face in her and sucked on her clit, Olivia ordered him to keep going just like that. She wrapped her thighs around his head and pulled him in, so close that he could breathe in little else but the scent of her.
Olivia bucked and writhed in the chair. She ran her nails across Jack’s shoulders, never breaking the skin. He shuddered in ecstasy with each scratch. Olivia felt the shudders in her clit. Each time it brought her closer to the edge, until with a final flick of Jack’s tongue she came. She gasped as the orgasm flowed out through her body, and took deep breaths to make it last longer. Jack never stopped licking and sucking, bringing Olivia off unselfishly, giving all his effort to her pleasure.
When she was done cumming, she pushed him away to kneel in his display position again. It felt strange to her, then. She no longer had to worry about offering an orgasm in return. Even the boyfriend she had kept in chastity had wanted one at least once a week. Now, though, in this place where all males really were just the property of women, it was their choice alone.
She clicked her fingers and pointed to the bed, so that Jack crawled up onto it. She joined him there, cuffing his hands behind his back. She pushed him onto his back and straddled him, her pussy resting on the steel mesh of his cock cage. She saw the grimace of pain as the cuffs dug into him under her weight. She felt a little rush of power when she realised she could inflict it on him, that he was helpless to resist her.
Olivia tortured the slaveboy by rubbing her pussy over his caged cock. He could sense the wet heat coming off of her, but could do nothing to get to it. She ground against him slowly, letting herself get wetter and wetter as she pinned him to the bed. This was foreplay as it was meant to be, this was the control over men she had desired her whole life.
“Slaveboy, I want to fuck you with a strapon.”
“Yes, Miss! Please do, Miss!”
“You’re eager, slave. Do you like being fucked by a woman?”
“I love to take a strapon, Miss. Please will you fuck me, Miss?”
“Stay right there, slave.”
Olivia hopped off the bed and opened more of her new cupboards. She found a long, thick strapon there and showed it to Jack, checking it wasn’t too large. He nodded. That was the size his owner had said he could take. Olivia found the strapon had a few extra features.
“Slave, what do all these extra bits do?”
“Miss, the pad on the inside, with the wires, connects to your clit. The small, metal inner dildo goes inside you. They can send pulses into your nerve centres, so you can come while you use the strapontto fuck. There’s a small remote control with it. It lets you turn the system on or off, and change the intensity. The tip, that goes in me, has a pulse unit too. It can give me a prostate orgasm without unlocking my cock – my owner gives me those as rewards.”
“How do I know if you’ve earned one?”
“I don’t know Miss. It’s not my place to say. I’m just her property, I don’t make decisions.”
“Hmmmm,” said Olivia. “I suppose that means no reward for you, then. But still, behave well and I’ll tell your owner what a good boy you’ve been.”
“Thank you, Miss.”
Olivia smiled again. Jack was such a good slave. She would ask Marie for advice on training hers once she got her slave. She hoped that would happen soon; she wouldn’t feel complete until she owned at least one male. She slid the strapon on and let its inner dildo slide inside her wet cunt. She stuck the pad to her clit and used the remote to turn it on at its lowest setting. A warm buzz of pleasure drifted out from it, into her.
Olivia lubed up the strapon generously and went back to the bed. She took Jack’s ankles and spread his legs apart, then had an idea and went back to the cupboard for some rope. With it, she tied off each ankle to a bedpost, so he was split lewd and wide, his hairless ass open and ready for her. She loved the feel of his hairless skin, warm and smooth, as she stroked his thighs and played with his hole.
“I’m going to fuck you now, slave. Open wide for me and take my cock like a good boy.”
“Yes, Miss! I want to take your cock, Miss.”
Olivia let her instincts take over. She penetrated the slave gently, letting the cock slide inside him. He moaned in pleasure as she filled him up. They made love slowly, savouring each stroke of the cock and every thrust of Olivia’s hips. The tech-infused strapon pulsed inside Olivia each time she penetrated the slaveboy, so that she could almost feel herself fucking him.
She thrust slowly and deeply. With each movement, her clit received a long, blissful burst of energy. She groaned and grunted as the slaveboy moaned and wriggled. She could feel how much he loved taking her strapon; his whole body shuddered every time she penetrated him. Olivia fucked him like that for a long time, giving and taking pleasure from the defenceless male.
She was delighted with her new life. As she made love to the slave, everything seemed to come together like it never had before. She had a new life, new challenges, new goals, new opportunities. She lived amongst free women and owned males. The heat built inside her, bringing her third orgasm of the day nearer and nearer. She let it happen when it happened.
The orgasm flooded her senses, so that she cried out in animal passion. The pulses of the strapon’s technology carried her on a buzzing wave, so that the orgasm grew and fell, grew and fell. She came longer than she even knew was possible. When she had had enough, she untied the slave’s legs and let them fall to the bed. Then she collapsed down onto the slave, letting her naked body rest against his. Content, she drifted to sleep, safe and secure in her new life.
She awoke with a shock as the buzzer of her door sounded, insistent and jarring. She sprang off the bed, where the naked, handcuffed male had lain beneath her. He awoke too, but did not make to move. He had not been ordered to. Olivia shimmied out of the strapon and looked around for her clothes. Then she caught sight of herself in the mirror. A goddess. She let go of her old life then, and answered the door naked.
Marie walked in and hugged her, bare breasts pressing together, legs and pussies a hair’s breadth from each other. Olivia felt the rush of freedom, and desire. She looked Marie over as they each pulled back – she really was stunning. Marie returned the look of lust, and filed it for future consideration.
“Did my boy behave well for you, Olivia?” she asked.
“Oh, he did. He really, really did. You’ll have to tell me how you trained him so well.”
“Pleasure and pain, darling. That’s all it takes. Pain when needed, pleasure when they’ve earned it. I’ll teach you, when you get your boy tomorrow. For now, I need this one back – he has some chores to do in my quarters. What do you think, did he earn a reward?”
“Oh, I’d say so.”
“Good boy, Jack. You may cum tonight, if you complete your chores perfectly.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” said her slave, still on the bed.
“Come with me, then, Jack,” said Marie.
The slave shuffled off the bed, and Olivia unlocked his cuffs and hugged Marie goodbye. Alone, Olivia busied herself around the little kitchen to fix a quick meal, then climbed into her bed to sleep off the flight. She needed to be fresh to start her new life the right way.
Chapter 2 – Choices, choices
Olivia woke in the early hours, her body still on its old schedule. She slipped out of the silk-sheeted bed and padded over to the refrigerator, then reflected on her new life as she ate. She still had no idea what she was supposed to invent for Femtech, but it seemed like she had at least a year just to learn about the company. There was no rush.
She took her time and masturbated on the bed, letting her mind explore all the possibilities of being a slave owner. That done, she found a few basic clothes in a drawer and slipped them on – a light summer dress and some flats. The early morning light diffused through the dome as she explored her new neighbourhood. Here and there, naked male slaves, early risers, worked in the streets and gardens. A few women were out too, supervising and guiding the slaves as they went about their tasks. All of them smiled and waved at Olivia as she drifted about.
As the sun rose higher, the dome warmed. Olivia passed some time watching a fit, toned young slave tending a wide, cool public garden. He was utterly naked and completely absorbed in his task, so that he never even noticed her eyes upon his body. Olivia thought she had never seen men so at peace as those she had met in this place. Carefully cultivated by the women who owned them, these men had become something new and good.
She drifted back to her quarters pondering the nature of slavery and freedom, and read up on Femtech’s history from the books they had provided. The company had been founded by a group of female doctors and engineers in the 1960s, a counter-cultural collective that sought a new world, guided by women. They had been attacked and hounded out of every major city they set up in, until an inheritance had given them the land they needed to start up their compound. The first dome had been completed two years later.
It was then that they decided a new way was needed. A few of the women had suitably submissive husbands. They became Femtech’s first live-in servants, gradually being declared dead and living as slaves. Femtech used its combined expertise to develop its first control devices, heavy things of steel and wires, and refined them by capturing criminals to experiment on who no one would miss.
Now, Femtech made money from all kinds of products. To its everyday customers it sold innocuous medical implants, high-tech greenhouse components, environmental detoxifiers, high-quality metals, and a range of other goods. To governments, it sold technologies of restraint, bespoke solutions that Femtech developed and tested, always gathering more data towards its eventual goal. Femtech had smaller compounds dotted around the world, and a select group of a few thousand rich, female clients who bought its real products – drugs and devices that enslaved males.
A knock at her door startled Olivia out of her reading. She opened it to find a tall woman of Chinese descent, flanked by two naked males. One stood on two feet, while the other went on all-fours, a tail and mitts marking him out as the pet of the tall woman who held his leash. Olivia had read about such men – some quirk of psychology or evolution meant they were happiest this way. He barked a greeting, eager to meet a new woman.
“Forgive the intrusion. My name is Linda. I hope you slept well,” said the visiting female, “if you’re ready to come with us, we can get you inducted.”
“I’m ready,” said Olivia, admiring Linda’s obvious command of the males with her. “Lead the way.”
Linda set off at a brisk pace, letting the males with them trail behind. She led Olivia through a tunnel into one of the central domes, the beating heart of Femtech’s corporate HQ. The ratio of slaves to women seemed to be about three to one, if Olivia had counted right. Olivia tried to take in everything going on around her. The dome contained many smaller buildings, many of five storeys or more. They were clustered together around courtyards, set with lawns and fountains.
Going through some of the buildings, they passed laboratories where naked men of all shapes and sizes were being experimented on, trained, or assessed. Boardrooms filled with women discussing their business, waited on by their slave attendants. In smaller offices, women worked at computers, designing, reading, reflecting. Olivia guessed she had seen about a hundred women so far. There was far more of this dome she couldn’t see, and several more central domes beside it. The compound must be home to thousands.
Linda took them through the maze of buildings into a teaching room laid out in a semi-circle. A few of Femtech’s oldest members were there greeting the new arrivals. Olivia was introduced to the other four recruits. A tall redhead, slim with small breasts on show, named Rosa; an engineer like Olivia. A Nigerian doctor with degrees in biochemistry named Chinara, short and voluptuous. Just as curvy, a big-breasted blonde from Germany named Luise, who stood naked and proud, just like two of the older women in the room; she was a political scientist of quiet genius. And last, a Japanese girl of Olivia’s height and build, Suki, a programmer and hacker, who stood with poise in a smart little black dress.
A statuesque woman with dark skin and hair peppered with grey called the meeting to order, flanked by her colleagues. “Welcome to the future of our world. We are Femtech, and you are our newest recruits. Your two-year apprenticeship starts today. I am Heather Jones, daughter of one of the company’s founding members. Everything that we have, I invite you to share in.
“Please sit. In front of you on the desk is a communicator, which you can clip to your clothing or your ear, a tablet computer, and a remote control. The communicator allows you to speak to any woman, any office, department, or building in the directory. You’ll get the knack of making calls with it soon enough. The tablet gives you access to our network; a more powerful computer will be made available at your desk and in your quarters.
“The remote control is for another purpose. Here, let me show you. I just point it at this kneeling male here, press the red button, and …”
The male flopped down, then bucked on the floor as the shocks hit him. He was the second youngest of four males kneeling in a line, all naked. He was chained up heavily, so that he could only move slowly and clumsily. Olivia thought he looked to be in his mid-twenties, but still had a boyish charm. The male’s shocks ceased and he collected himself, kneeling in his display position again, trying to be still and calm.
“That should be enough. This is one of my males, not my youngest, but a very pliable and willing slave. I often use him for these demonstrations. I’m sure he doesn’t mind really – it’s all in the service of the superior sex, you see.
“The red button is for punishment and discipline. It can be used on any male, belonging to anyone. A short press is directional, a long press omnidirectional. It is the height of bad manners to punish someone else’s slave without a good reason – killing someone else’s slave is even a sackable offence. The slaves you find walking around wear subdermal implants, connected to an onboard computer, and watched over by the domes’ artificial intelligence.
“Any attempt at overt violence will be spotted by one of those systems; any attempt at escape is swiftly prevented. But these are males, and they are dangerous. You must watch for covert resistance. We trust them with tools and other objects; they have a little freedom, but there is nothing like the male human when it comes to creative violence. Over our history, twenty-three of our number have been killed by their own slaves.
“I see you are shocked. Those women were careless. They trusted unbroken males, were deceived by false displays of submission. A few were poisoned, some were stabbed, a few pushed down stairs. The detection systems can only act so fast. You must cultivate the slave inside a male until his slave-self takes over completely.
“Maintain your dominance and his submission. I have never once been attacked by a male, because I assert my complete and total dominance over them, with every breath I take and every word I speak. I own these four boys – the oldest is fifty-five and the youngest nineteen. I am still breaking the newest one, so he goes everywhere in heavy shackles. We exist, as a company, as a family, with one purpose: control of all males. Make it the heart of everything you do here. Questions?”
Suki spoke up, “How will we know when they’re completely broken?” Her English was flawless, clipped and clear. Olivia found her voice enchanting.
“If you open the slavery knowledge centre on your tablets, you will find everything we have ever learned on that topic, and many more. Consult it in depth and often. It will teach you how to live in our world. When a male is broken, he is changed. A calmness comes over him, a serenity that is found only when obedience becomes his only way of life. You will want to see it, but you must not let your desires fool your rational mind. When it finally happens, there will be no doubt.
“Here, let me show you. Slave 97, stand. Slave 3189, stand. Observe these two males. Look for the differences.”
The oldest and youngest kneeling slaves stood. The younger was shackled around the ankles and wrists, his chains cinched together at his waist. His movements were restricted, while the older slave was seemingly free to do as he liked. Olivia watched them both. The older male was so still. He breathed evenly, calmly, his eyes fixed in the middle distance. He let his toned body relax and be looked at.
Olivia saw the younger slave try to calm himself, striving to be still. He hadn’t got the knack yet. He fidgeted, looked around, looked to his owner, let his eyes rove around the room and over the assembled women. Every so often, he looked longingly at the door, as if escape could be had just by reaching the other side of it. Then he remembered how impossible escape was, and breathed deeply again, trying to surrender.
“I’m sure you all see the difference. If you don’t, resign now and we’ll wipe your memories. But no, I see it in your eyes. You can recognise a true slave when one is presented to you. Yes, Olivia?”
“When do we get to choose ours?”
“Ha! I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I know it must be hard to focus, but believe me, once you get your male, you won’t be able to think about anything other than using him. That’s why we have this induction first – you will get your males in a few hours, but first you must concentrate on learning the basics of living here. Our rules and laws are important. As citizens of the Femtech compound, you must understand them.”
Heather taught them the fundamental rules of Femtech. Olivia came to realise that it wasn’t just a company; it was a nascent civilisation. There were strict laws against violence, against theft, against threats or fraud. These were rarely needed, but had to be strictly enforced. The company had a few sanctions: reeducation, dismissal with amnesia, imprisonment, and death.
Olivia was a little shocked that they had the death penalty here. Heather explained that their drug-induced amnesia could only delete a few years of memory. Beyond that, if someone became a threat to the company, and could not be rehabilitated in any other way, they could be painlessly executed. The process took years to implement and had only ever been carried out twice. Femtech chose its new recruits well; generally they integrated seamlessly into their new society.
Heather explained how money worked for them – it was not needed for basics, but was used to ration luxuries and for the purchase of additional slaves. Extra slaves cost exponentially more, the more you already owned. The most any one woman owned was six, and this seemed to be the natural limit of affordability. Financial reward could be spent in the real world, of course, once the two-year apprenticeship was up, but Femtech found its employees rarely left the compound. Everything they needed was there already. Most donated some salary to charities, as they had little use for money.
Olivia came to see that Femtech was set up to encourage collaboration, to prevent hoarding and build a truly functional society. She was part of a sisterhood now, no longer living in a war of all against all. This was a better way, it was obvious. She had never seen so many happy people – men and women – together in one place.
Heather ran over the duties of males. Femtech owned some slaves in common, who tended the grounds and maintained the domes and their buildings, or prepared food and otherwise served the women. They lodged with temporary owners or were barracked together in slave quarters. Their lives were not simply about service; many were artists, poets, writers, or cultivators of rare and exotic plants, in their spare time. They had found new meaning once they surrendered to the female will.
The same could often be said of the women’s personal slaves. They served in many capacities, not the least of which was sexual. Heather described just a few of the things she liked to get up to with her eager cadre of slaves. Olivia felt her skin prickle each time Heather’s descriptions took a new turn. Life here would be fulfilling.
Heather contrasted these with the test subject slaves that the company made use of. They were cared for, and many transitioned from test subject to personal slave in due course, but their lives were rougher and more precarious than a woman’s personal slave. These males were required to make a sacrifice of their body, or perhaps their sanity, to help Femtech bring about its bright new female future. Many were criminals, murderers and rapists, but some were just normal males. Heather encouraged the new recruits not to feel guilty about this; they had to break a few males to save the world. It was the only way.
After more hours of civics and induction, the women ate lunch together, served by a team of handsome slaves who had prepared the meal from scratch. Olivia was a little startled when Heather had one of her slaves go down on her as she ate, in full view of the rest of the room. Heather was amused, explaining this was part of the lesson – sex held no taboos in Femtech. Desire was good.
Suki spoke up then, asking if that applied to the new recruits. Heather lent Suki her oldest and most skilled slave, whose able tongue left Suki panting and screaming through two intense orgasms. She decided to leave her clothes off for the rest of the day. From that day on, Olivia found her naked most times they met.
Lunch finished before all the prospective, unclaimed slaves were quite ready to be inspected. Heather used the time to degrade her youngest, unbroken slave, asking all of the new recruits to spank him a hundred times each. It was the redheaded engineer who got the young male to cry, laying into him with a wooden ruler, which she wielded with a severe efficiency. Heather thanked her for not holding back, and advised the other women to learn from her example. Olivia noticed that the slave seemed calmer now. He had sunk a little deeper into his slave-self; it was a marked improvement.
“Now, ladies, if you will please follow me, we will proceed to the Hall of Slaves. There you may inspect all twenty-five of our new acquisitions. I strongly recommend you do so naked. It never hurts to find a male who can’t keep his eyes off you. Please, discuss amongst yourselves who you are likely to pick, then rank your preferences on the forms provided. If a dispute arises, try to settle it fairly amongst yourselves.”
Heather led them into a secure building, surrounded by high fences and razor wire. This was the prison where newly enslaved males were taken. The Hall of Slaves itself was a long, cool room of polished stone. Around the edges of the room, naked men were shackled to the walls or stood in tall cages. Each had their cock uncaged, though they had been stripped of all hair below the waist, and their faces shaved clean.
“There are a few rules of conduct in the Hall of Slaves. You may inspect the bodies of all the males here, but you must not damage them permanently. Light spankings are allowed, and you may pinch and poke to your heart’s content. Do not break skin or draw blood.
“You may take a risk and try to get them to give you sexual service, but beware: none of these males have been given any obedience drugs. They are all, therefore, potentially dangerous. This is their raw state. You must choose one you wish to shape, to develop into your perfect slave. The files hanging next to them detail their histories. Read them if you wish.
“Now, you have the next five hours to inspect and make your choice. My assistants here, or any of the freely roaming slaves in this building, will assist you with anything you need. Feel free to use the roaming slaves to clear your heads; they are available to service your needs, and well-trained too. Enjoy, and welcome to Femtech.”
Heather left the new recruits to get on with it. Olivia remembered her earlier advice, and let her clothes fall to the floor. Of the five new members of Femtech, only two were left wearing anything at all. They slipped out of what little they had on, and each new member of the sisterhood roamed the hall naked and unashamed. Twenty-five pairs of slave eyes tracked them around the room.
The slaves had been taken from countries all around the world. Every capture was precisely executed; a perfect crime. Many of the men would not be missed; for those that would, no trace would ever be found of who took them or where they went. A few had lived off-grid as slaves for years before being sold to Femtech. They had walked out of normal lives and voluntarily become the property of women, only to be sold when their original owners grew bored of them.
There were two violent criminals amongst the selection. Such males were rarely selected by new recruits. Olivia and her fellows stayed away from them, except for Suki, who inspected their shackled bodies in great detail. Each new member of Femtech wanted something different. As Olivia made her way around, she noticed that Luise, the buxom German, seemed most interested in the hard luck cases, the slaveboys who had endured the hardest lives before Femtech had taken them. Olivia guessed Luise wanted a slave that she could take care of.
For herself, Olivia wanted a tall, slim male who could keep up with her sexual appetites, and who would quickly learn obedience. She wasn’t averse to breaking a slave, though, so she avoided those males who already had years of service behind them. Rosa, the redheaded engineer, selected three such males as her choices. She thought it would be nice to skip all of the torture and get a ready-made slave.
Suki opted for the two males with a history of violence. She tested out a dragon cane on each of them, drawing tears from the helpless slaves. She ranked her first preference the one that cried the least. He would face many years of cruelty under Suki’s whips, canes and heels. She couldn’t wait to get started, and sat down to make a list of implements she would be needing.
Chinara seemed to base her decision on height and build, but she opted for the shorter, stockier males that Olivia didn’t much care for. Chinara carefully compared her preferred slaves with those of the other women, and was pleased to confirm her selection of one that none of the others were interested in. She told Olivia later that he was the one she had wanted from the moment they had walked in to the room. Chinara felt like it was love at first sight, and the slave was in no position to disagree.
Olivia stalked over to a very tall, young male with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He was shackled to a cross on the wall, stretched out and unable to move even an inch. She looked him over. A few bruises, probably from his capture, marred his perfect skin. She wondered how old he could be, and checked his file. Eighteen, pretty as a fresh peach, and he spoke English. Disappeared in a boating accident, along with a brother who was his only surviving relative. The brother had been swiftly sold to one of Femtech’s oldest clients, leaving only his younger sibling at Femtech’s HQ.
“Good afternoon, slave,” said Olivia to the boy. “What’s your name?”
She waited for an answer, tapping her foot and arching her eyebrows. He maintained a scared silence, so she moved in close and took his round, hairless balls in her hand, and squeezed gently.
“What’s your name, slave?”
Still no answer. Frustrating. She squeezed harder.
“Your name. Now. You don’t want to know how hard I can squeeze.”
“Luke,” blurted out the slave, “please stop hurting me.”
“Address me properly if you want me to stop,” said Olivia, keeping the pressure on.
“Please stop, um, er, miss!”
“That’s better, Luke. I want to ask you some questions. I’m going to let go of your balls, but if I sense you are lying to me, I’ll use them to punish you again. Do you understand? Tell me the truth, not what you think I want to hear.”
“Yes, miss,” said the boy quickly. Olivia gave him a few seconds to think about it, then continued.
“Do you like dominant women, Luke?”
“Yes, miss,” he said, looking down at the ground.
“Look up at me, Luke. There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re in a world of dominant women.”
“Do you want to be the property of a dominant woman?”
“I … don’t know, miss. Maybe. I’m scared of this.”
“That’s only natural. I think you do, but you’re scared to admit it. That’s OK. Do you like to lick pussy, Luke?”
“I’ve never had a girlfriend, miss.”
“Oh that’s a shame Luke. Would you like to lick pussy, Luke?”
“That’s good, slave. Would you like to be fucked in the ass with a strapon?”
“I don’t know about that… Miss… It seems kind of weird.”
“Nothing of the sort, Luke. Would you like to follow the orders of a dominant woman?”
“I guess so, miss.”
Olivia was tiring a little of the slave’s reticence. This one was nice, but a little too young and unsure of himself. She wanted a slave with a bit more presence. Someone who took up space, who didn’t shrink. She walked away from Luke without another word, forgetting for the time being that he even existed. Returning to the centre of the hall, she looked around, mentally excluding the unsuitable slaves, and those her new sisters seemed to want the most.
Her eyes were drawn back again, and again, to a tall, slim, dark-haired slave, a little older than Luke, who stood in a cage, his hands shackled in front of him. His legs were planted firmly apart, and his dark eyes met hers, and held her gaze. She walked over to him and beckoned to him.
“Come to the front of your cage, slave.”
“Yes, miss,” he said, moving so that his flesh was right up against the bars. Olivia thought that was a good sign. Obedience, respect, confidence. What she wanted, and a fairly nice cock and balls too, not that any slave of hers would get to use those much. She reached through the bars and stroked his face. He kissed her hand, unbidden. She laughed.
“Good boy,” she said. “You know your place but you’re not afraid to show affection for your superiors.”
“Yes, miss,” he said.
“Tell me how you came to be a slave.”
“I was hiking, miss, and I met a woman who must work for this company. She seduced me, tied me up, tranquilised me, and brought me here. That was a couple of weeks ago. Since then they’ve removed all my body hair, and told me I’m a slave forever. They implanted these devices under my skin, and turned them on to show me I couldn’t escape. That’s it, miss.”
“Have you always been submissive, slave?”
“Yes, I think so, miss. As long as I can remember.”
“Do you like to lick pussy, slave?”
“Oh yes, miss.”
“Do you like to get fucked with a strapon?”
“I’ve only tried it on my own, miss, not with a partner. But I did like it, and I would like it. From a woman, I mean, miss.”
“Good boy. Have you had a dominant girlfriend in the past?”
“Not really, miss. I went out with one woman who I asked to spank me. She did a few times, but I don’t think she really got it. Miss.”
“You’re very forthcoming, slave. Why is that?”
He thought for some time, mulling his words but not disputing the truth of what Olivia had said. “Miss, I have nothing left to hide. You’ve taken my freedom, and I’ve seen hundreds more slaves like me. It seems like escape is impossible. So, I guess that’s it. Now I need to make the best of this.”
“You accept that you are owned?”
“Um, yes, miss.”
“You hesitate, why? You said yourself you’re a slave.”
“Yes, miss. But only to a corporation so far. Not to a person …”
“Not how you’d like to be owned?”
“Yes, miss,” answered the slave, without thinking.
“What’s your name, slave?”
“My name is Dean, miss.”
“Would you like to be my slave, Dean?”
“Yes, miss, very much, miss,” he replied, all in a rush. He could see worse fates than serving a goddess like this.
“I will tolerate nothing less than complete obedience. Do you understand?”
He nodded. “Yes, miss.”
“Good. Get on your knees.”
He did. She turned around and backed up to the cage. “Kiss my bottom, slave.” He did, planting each kiss firmly, so that she would be able to feel him kissing every inch of it. She trusted him not to attack. It just wasn’t in him to do so. He knew his place, and judging from his erection when she turned around, he liked it.
“I choose you, Slave Dean.”
“Thank you, miss.”
Each new recruit filled in their preference forms. They each were given their first preferences. Chinara took away a short and stocky Egyptian boy, locking him up in shackles on short chains. Luise took ownership of Carl, explaining that it was for his own good that she bound him so tightly, and that she would look after him from now on. She seemed very taken with the male and was glad that he had finally found a home, even if it would be one where he slept in a cage.
Rosa enslaved a twenty-five year old Austrian man, who had been owned by three mistresses since he was nineteen. He hoped Rosa would keep him permanently. He was fully broken already, and followed willingly on his leash, his hands and legs free. Femtech’s psychologists had already declared him 100% enslaved.
Suki took a mixed up male with submissive tendencies towards women and a history of violence to other men. A team of women pinned him on all fours and chained up his arms and legs so he had to remain that way. They locked mitts around his hands and then added a muzzle to his face. Suki led him away like that, to become her pet. She adjusted his collar to severely punish any attempt at human language.
Olivia had Dean’s arms cuffed behind his back but left his legs free. She was convinced, rightly, that he wasn’t going to run, but she wanted him on display. She would train him to keep his arms behind his back or head, but for now, the cuffs would do. One of Femtech’s slavers took Olivia and her new property into a side room. The women sat on comfortable chairs, while the slave knelt on the floor.
“This is slave 3203, also known as Dean, though feel free to change the name.”
“Dean will do just fine,” said Olivia, “I assume my slave need not speak during this process?”
“Not until the end.”
“Very good. 3203: mute.”
Olivia had already read the basic slave manual. Dean’s collar armed its shockers, and began to listen for the vibrations of his voice. Any attempt at speech would be punished with a swiftly rising series of shocks. He wisely remained silent.
“Now,” said the slaver, “you need to sign here, here and here to take ownership. Then thumbprint of the slave here. He’s very good looking by the way, and nicely obedient already – good boy.”
“Thanks,” said Olivia, “I don’t think he’ll be too much trouble. In any case, I plan to keep up his discipline every day from now on.”
“Good idea. They benefit from it. Your slave comes with a limited ten year warranty. You may re-sell the slave and the warranty will transfer. If the slave dies of illness, which you did not cause, or could not reasonably have known you would cause, we will replace him free of charge. However, if you are responsible for the slave’s death, the warranty will be void. For example, starvation, missing medical checkups, whipping to death, or using the slave as a test subject, will all invalidate the warranty.”
“That’s good to know. Do I have to pay for medicals for him?”
“Goodness no, nor for yourself. Medical care is completely free here. We have excellent doctors and surgeons. Anything else, we pay for as a company. Now, you may modify your slave in the following ways without invalidating his warranty. This is a list of allowable piercings, these are modifications for petmales and ponyboys-”
“I won’t need those,” said Olivia, to Dean’s obvious relief.
“These are other surgeries he can have, like penis enlargement or reduction, castration, tongue improvements, and vocal cord removal. Would you like to book any?”
“Just the tongue improvements, please. The rest don’t interest me.”
“We’ll get that booked in. Now, this is your certificate of ownership. And here is a complementary frame for it, made from one of the alloys that go in the subdermal collars.”
“That’s a nice touch, thank you.”
“Would you like your slave to take the oath of slavery? Here, you can read it over. We find it helps them understand what they are now.”
“Oh yes, he has to read this. Slave 3023: unmute. Read this.”
She handed him the sheet of paper, which he took from her with shaking fingers. Clearing his throat, he began to read.
“I … I am a slave to superior females,” he began, “As a male I am inferior. As a male I have no rights. My destructive urges must be controlled by feminine power. I am a slave. I am the property of Mistress Olivia. My name is Slave 3023, or any other name she wishes to bestow on me. I belong to Mistress Olivia. She holds complete power over my life. I am her slave. I swear … I swear to serve her in whatever way she wishes, ever obedient, never resisting her rule. I give myself to her so that I may look after and she may look after me. I swear this now and forever. I will never again be free. Slavery is the highest and truest purpose of my life. Mistress Olivia, I humbly beg to serve you.”
“Good boy,” said Olivia, “you did that so well. I accept your vow of slavery and take ownership of your body and mind.”
“Thank you, mistress,” said the boy, quietly.
To the administrator, Olivia said, “Is there anything else?”
“No, slave 3023 is now officially your property. I hope you enjoy owning him.”
“Thanks, my friend. Come, slave 3023. Your tongue has a date with my pussy and my arse.”
“Yes, mistress,” said Dean.
With the words of his slave oath still ringing around in his head, he followed behind his new owner, a leash clipped to the d-ring that was implanted in his neck. His eyes roamed over her perfect body as she led him back to her quarters, still naked. He felt like his luck had finally changed. With every step, he let go his inhibitions and surrendered. He was Mistress Olivia’s property now, and he would live to serve her.
Chapter 3 – A female-led life
Dean busied himself in the kitchen as his mistress Olivia slept peacefully. Every so often he glanced through the doorway to check that she still slept peacefully. Her chest drifted slowly up and down, her breathing still steady and shallow. She had ordered – asked really – that he prepare their breakfast quietly so that she could rest properly. Dean was a naturally early riser, and was happy to do this for Olivia.
He laid out her tray just as she liked, settling the dishes and cups into place gently, so as not to wake her. He laid aside the kitchen implements, being careful not to move the sharp knives too quickly. His collar could sense the smart trackers in them, and would punish any sudden movements while holding them. He smiled at the thought, amused at the absurdity of it. He would never harm a goddess.
Dean took up the tray and stalked, quite naked, through Olivia’s quarters – their quarters, perhaps – and laid it down next to Olivia’s bedside. Kneeling on the floor, he laid a warm hand on her shoulder and spoke, “Time to wake up, mistress.” It took him minutes of careful, gentle coaxing to awaken the beautiful woman who had taken him for her own.
Olivia opened her eyes and smiled at Dean, pulling him towards her for a lingering kiss. She was groggy and slow, so he gave her time to wake up properly, then presented her breakfast. She savoured the coffee – he made it perfectly, every time – then wolfed down the food as he tutted at her frantic eating habits. She raised an eyebrow, playful but with a threat ready to follow, and he ceased his disapproval.
“How are you, this morning, treasured one?” she asked him.
“Well rested, mistress. If a little sore. You were on fire last night – I can still feel where your strapon was inside of me.”
“You loved it, my darling.”
“Of course I did! But I’d rather not again tonight, if it’s all the same, mistress.”
“Very well, slave,” she replied, using the only word she needed to remind her love, gently, of his place. “But I’ll be sitting on your face for a while. I know you like it when I do that.”
“Yes, mistress. It’s one of my favourite views.”
She brought him into the bed, laying aside the tray, and climbed on top of him. His cock cage unlocked at her command, falling to one side, and his penis sprang up hard and ready. Olivia took him inside her and fucked him hard, giving him the dominance they both knew he needed. When he was spent, she let him lick her clean then had him kneel back on the floor.
Olivia sat on the bed and spread her legs, letting a finger find her clit and start to massage it.
“Say the words, slave,” she said.
“Yes mistress,” Dean replied, and began to recite the words he said to his beloved owner every day, “You are my owner. I treasure your control and you treasure my submission. I will never be owned by any other. This we have vowed to each other.”
“Good boy, keep going,” said Olivia. Her fingers were working faster now. It never took long for this display to make her cum.
“I wear your brand as a symbol of my devotion to you. I walk and crawl freely, without bondage, as a sign of your trust in me. I take your spankings, and your strapon, as a reminder that only as your property will I find happiness.”
Olivia masturbated frantically now, as Dean, kneeling with legs spread, watched his mistress exercise her freedom of will, and her control over him.
“Mistress, before your ownership I was lost. Before your mastery, I was soul sick. Before you enslaved me, I had no purpose, and acted only from self-interest. You freed me to love you like the person I was meant to be.”
Olivia was close now, her breathing ragged, gasping and moaning as her clit throbbed. She nodded to her slave to carry on.
“I commit myself to your service.”
“I accept your commitment,” she replied.
“I accept your ownership of me.”
“You are my most treasured of all possessions,” came the reply. Her orgasm was seconds away.
“I am your slave, now and forever, and you are my owner. How may I serve you today, mistress?”
Olivia never failed to cum at those words. Dean spoke them with such passion and fervour, such righteousness. He was her exemplar, her demonstration that the male human could be reprieved and reformed. He was her property, but so much more. Her paramour, her confidant. He had promised to love, honour and obey her, and he did, right down to the bone.
Her fingers finished, and her whole body shuddered. She let herself be taken over by the orgasm as Dean continued to swear his obedient devotion. She flew on wings of dominance. Every new promise of slavery kept her cumming a little longer, until she was spent. When she was done, his tongue cleaned her again, and then they showered together. Their shower was intimate, passionate. When they were clean and Dean’s cock was locked back up in its cage, Olivia dressed for work, clipped a leash to Dean’s collar, and led them both from their home.
Olivia knew Dean was telling the truth when he said that the sight of her sitting down onto his face was one of his favourites. He kept no secrets from her anymore, nor she from him. She had hardly needed to break him, in the end. They had fallen in love in this new world, mistress and slave, woman and man. She had drawn him out, given him space to become the tender, loving man that the outside world had scoffed at. In return he had given her his soul, his body, and his mind.
Olivia wore nothing but a light summer dress and some flats; she had destroyed her underwear not long after arriving at Femtech’s compound. Here her breasts and pussy gave her dominion, so she felt no need to constrain them. She never allowed Dean a single item of clothing. A few mistresses here and there dressed their males in costumes or had them wear elaborate harnesses. Olivia’s slim, beautiful slave looked better fully on display.
She led them both through the airlock into the dome where she worked, passing many friends and colleagues on the way. Olivia greeted the women, while Dean mostly gave salutations to the slaves he had grown close to. Some were males who worked unsupervised, but most were leashed personal slaves like him. The women and the slaves had come from every continent on Earth, gathered together in order to build the only society Olivia had ever really believed in.
Threading through the courtyards and buildings, Olivia took the time to check in on Luke, the young male she had briefly considered making her own. She found him solving a problem with one of the fountains, his only clothing a tool belt. He was hunched down on the ground, his hands deep inside an access panel that led to one of the pumps, quite content in his work. Olivia’s shadow loomed over him and he twisted his neck to look up.
“Good morning, Miss Olivia,” he said, “is there some way I may serve you today?”
“Good morning, slave Luke. How are you today?”
“Well, thank you, miss, though I’m struggling with this pump. I may have to call my supervisor” – a female engineer, they both knew – “to help.”
“Nonsense, keep at it. You’re a natural mechanic, slave. And from what I hear from your supervisor, that’s not the only thing you’re a natural at.”
Luke blushed. As a slave he belonged to Femtech rather than any individual woman, but Femtech knew such males had the same emotional needs as any other. His supervisor had four males working under her. They took turns licking her pussy or taking her long, elegant strapon, once or twice a week each. The supervisor made them available to other women, when the slaves had performed well enough. Olivia had coated Luke’s face with her juices just the week before. He was talented.
“Now then, Luke, you know why I’m here.”
“Yes, miss,” he said, then spoke the prepared phrase, “Miss, I am a new slave and need discipline. May I beg you to spank me?”
“Of course, slave. Take off your tool belt and clean your hands, then come over to this bench. Dean, kneel here until I am done.”
Olivia took Luke to a bench in the courtyard. She sat down and had the young slave boy drape himself over her lap, so that his caged cock pressed against her bare, shapely thigh. She felt it twitch against her. Luke’s supervisor had flagged Luke as obedient, but in need of female discipline. She asked a few women who worked nearby to give him the occasional spanking, in as public a place as they could find.
The courtyard was overlooked by several building, each with wide windows. A dozen women could see them from this position, and more passed through the courtyard every now and then. Olivia massaged Luke’s bottom a little, just to get it ready for her assault, then spoke to the quivering boy.
“A hundred swats of my hand, today, slaveboy. Count each one and thank me.”
Olivia’s hand came down hard. Smack.
“One, thank you miss!” said Luke. His body shivered with the thrill of the discipline. He felt like a hundred eyes were boring into his bare bottom.
“Good boy, keep counting.”
Smack, “Two, thank you, miss,” smack, “three, thank you, miss.”
Olivia hit Luke with real force. She bore the boy no ill will, she simply knew that he needed this to become the best male he could be. Why, Dean took a maintenance spanking of two hundred swats every day, followed by half an hour of corner-time. He would take that or more every day for the rest of his life.
She kept spanking him, slow and steady.
“Twenty, thank you, miss,” said Luke. Olivia heard his voice falter. Tears would come soon enough.
By the fiftieth swat, Luke’s bottom was bright crimson. He cried freely, still thanking his superior for every time her hand struck his defenseless bottom. Olivia held the force at that level, keeping her rhythm steady. The pause before each stroke let Luke feel her power over him, let his mind anticipate the pain. Each expertly delivered blow from the palm of her hand drove his mind deeper into its slave-state. By sixty swats, his body was perfectly still. Olivia sensed the change; Luke was one with the discipline now.
“Sixty-one, thank you, miss,” said Luke, in a new tone of voice. He was honestly and absolutely grateful.
“You break faster each time, slaveboy,” said Olivia to the eighteen-year-old male.
“Yes, miss. Sixty two, thank you, miss,” he replied.
“It pleases me greatly that you’re learning your proper place in a well-ordered world,” she said, as the slaveboy continued the count.
When he passed eighty, she sped up the last twenty strokes, just to throw the slave off a little. She wanted to show him that she was completely in control. It worked. Luke found new reserves of submission, holding himself still as the final hits were delivered. When it was finished, Olivia had him kneel on the floor in front of her. She stood, removed her dress, and sat back down again.
“You’re a good slave, Luke. You may suck my tits for a couple of minutes as a reward.”
“Thank you, miss!” he replied.
Luke took her hungrily in his mouth. He sucked and licked as the last of his tears trickled down his face and onto Olivia’s chest. Olivia saw Dean looking on, his face carefully impassive. It was difficult for him to share her with other males, but he was getting used to it. Olivia had given him to other females many times now. Luke continued to savour the closeness and sense of connection he achieved by sucking Olivia’s breasts.
She stroked his hair and helped him calm down. Her words of encouragement were mixed with moans of pleasure. She let him suck her for a lot longer than the two minutes she had promised, then finally pushed him away and ordered him back to work. Later in the day, she would post a five-star appraisal to his supervisor. Luke would be allowed to cum on her feet that day, if his other work was up to scratch. Olivia stood and put her dress back on.
“Come, slave Dean, I have some work to do in the office.”
“Yes, mistress,” he replied, standing and presenting his leash to his owner.
“No, slave, crawl for the rest of the day. Only stand if your orders necessitate it.”
“Yes, mistress,” he said, kneeling back down, then quickly crawling after Olivia as she strode off towards the office where she worked.
Olivia had her slave lick her to a quickie under the desk, then sent him off to stop distracting her. She had ordered him to learn a creative skill, so he was sketching in charcoal, at an adjustable desk set low to the floor. When he had reached his position, he locked himself by a chain to an eyebolt. His mistress could open the lock by remote control, but he had no way to release himself. He set to sketching a nude self-portrait, in a posture of submission. Olivia particularly favoured these, and they were getting better by the day.
With her property suitably occupied until Olivia needed her next orgasm – around lunchtime – she got to work. Olivia was prototyping a crowd control drone, something that Femtech might be able to use when it launched its bid for control of the world. She concentrated on the plans, trying to optimise manoeuvrability while maintaining enough lift to mount the weapons. The drone, she thought, might carry a sonic cannon or some kind of aerosol to release drugs.
What was troubling her most was targeting algorithms. Her first attempts hadn’t been able to reliably sort males from females, so she had enlisted help from specialist programmers. Olivia wondered if they’d gone at it the wrong way, using face and body recognition instead of something like pheromones or behaviour recognition. When finished, the drone would be able to pacify a hundred males at a time, before an autonomous robot came in and collared the prone men.
Olivia hated the idea of pacifying an entire crowd in one go, women included. It wouldn’t be right for their new society to hurt its leaders at its moment of birth. She took the designs back to the drawing board, again and again, turning over the possibilities in her mind. Every time she thought she had a solution, more problems presented themselves. No one had ever said freeing the world would be easy.
It was past one in the afternoon when Olivia stood up from her desk for the last time. She remote unlocked Dean and had him crawl to her, then leashed him and had him follow. She took them to a café on a quiet square nearby, run entirely by two slave-brothers, middle-aged Indian men who were owned by the daughter of one of Femtech’s founders. She took her usual seat and had Dean kiss her feet beneath the table while she waited for her friend.
Luise sauntered along, late as always, naked as always, followed by her slave Carl, who was now the picture of health. The big, blonder German girl had found Carl’s story irresistible. He was a hard-luck case, a homeless boy in need of love and care, and discipline, of course. She had taken him home from the same choosing where Olivia had acquired Dean. Luise had bathed Carl, tended his body and mind, fed him well and fucked him often. Whenever he disobeyed, she caned him or whipped his balls, then had him write out lines so that he understood what he had done wrong.
“No cuffs on Carl today, Luise?” said Olivia as Luise sat down.
“He broke last week, didn’t you, darling?”
“Yes, Matron. Thank you, Matron. I love you, Matron,” replied the slaveboy, his words fervent.
“Well done,” said Olivia, meaning it. “How did it happen?”
Luise had Carl rub her shoulders and launched into the story.
“Well, I was giving him his lunch from my breasts – you know I like to feed him from them – when I noticed a change had come over him. He was suddenly just completely present. Totally at one with me as I fed him. His whole body stilled. I stopped him and asked him what was wrong and he just said, “Nothing, Matron. I belong to you.” I could see he really meant it.
“Anyway, later that day I tied him down to the bed and we had sex the old-fashioned way, but with me on top, you know. I let him cum inside me, and it was like a dam burst. He swore his undying love for me, then he begged me to fuck him properly. And I mean really begged-” Carl blushed behind his mistress- “so I took him outside into the courtyard and took him with my strapon, right there. He was so grateful.”
“Has he been cleared by the psychologists?” asked Olivia.
“100%. Completely free of patriarchal impulses. Absolutely able to submit to female authority.”
“Excellent work, Luise. I see all these males going round in elaborate bondage and undergoing the harshest punishments. Sometimes all it takes is kindness mixed in with the discipline.”
“You’re correct,” replied the German girl, “and that’s the direction my research is going in. We can’t take the world by force or any future society we build won’t last. Men have to want to submit to us, in the end. They have to need to submit. Slavery has to be the obvious, the right option for them, the only way. That should be our goal: engineering some situation where the female right to rule becomes completely undeniable, and benefits everyone.”
“Well, I don’t know that yet! Give me thirty years and then ask me. So, tell me what you’re working on this week…”
Olivia walked Luise through her drone’s progress, telling the naked, attentive blonde all the problems that kept coming up. Luise mostly listened, giving her friend the time and space to work it out for herself. Occasionally, Luise would chip in with some finer point of crowd psychology that the engineer Olivia might have missed. Olivia was smart enough to know that Luise wanted to bring her round to the view that real change could only be achieved peacefully. Olivia wished for such a world, but deep down she felt the need to prepare for a war of the sexes.
The girls ate their lunches in the cool shade of a parasol, talking of this and that. Luise was helping research future candidates for Femtech’s recruitment drive, while Olivia had volunteered to help males learn massage. Every week a male would try out their new techniques on her naked body; some mastered the craft quickly, while others were almost hopeless. Still, there were worse ways to contribute to society. The older women mostly let these choice jobs go to the younger ones. In ten years when they’d got it out of their system, they could make other contributions.
While their owners ate, Carl and Dean talked between themselves. They had gotten to know one another, comparing their experiences of being kidnapped, sharing details about their lives and how their mistresses treated them. Recently, they had swapped their philosophies of slavery; Dean’s well-developed, and Carl’s nascent and hesitant. In his spare time, Dean wrote these musings up into something more substantial. Femtech valued such intellectual work; amongst its slaves were many fine thinkers. Dean was happy to find that Carl had settled into his new life. Now that he was broken like Dean, they could really explore together what it meant to be a slave in the service of the superior females.
Olivia fed Dean his lunch as he knelt on the floor. She had him take each mouthful off a fork. He held her gaze as his lips closed over the food, letting his lips and tongue show his desire for more than just a meal. Olivia’s heart beat faster at such displays, and her pussy ached with wet lust. The moment she had finished feeding Dean, she snapped her fingers and pointed under the table, between her legs. He dived under her dress, smiling, then gave his owner the worship she deserved.
It didn’t take long for Luise to follow suit. Carl had found new reverence for his Matron, his owner, since she had broken him. He poured out his devotion through his tongue, bringing Luise to new heights of pleasure. Her incredible breasts bounced up and down as she rode her slave’s tongue. Luise came hard and loud, yelling and screaming with abandon. Women and slaves heard her all across the surrounding streets and courtyards. She was proud of her slave for showing such a generous attitude.
When their orgasms were finished and the meal was done, Olivia and Luise walked arm in arm to the part of the compound where Suki and Rosa, now a gorgeous and powerful couple, worked. Suki had invited all manner of women and their slaves to a demonstration of the harness she had been developing. Naked except for her white lab coat, which hung casually open, she set up a wide arena in the pristine lab, and introduced a test subject petmale. Two dozen women crowded around to see what she had come up with.
“Ladies and slaves, welcome. My partner Rosa and I have been developing a new harness for petmales. This is based on our existing subdermal implants, but uses insights from petmale psychology recently developed by our researchers. The harness is spread across the petmale’s whole body. We have used implants to limit movement in some parts of the body, but to free it up in others.
“My own petmale tells me he feels most himself when he moves in a particular way – like the animal that he is, on all-fours. Classically, we have seen keeping petmales on all-fours as a surgical issue. With the right configuration of subdermal tech, petmales can be restricted to crawling at the push of the button. The harness goes beyond this basic level of functioning. By clever use of relaxants in some parts of the body, and muscle stimulation in others, the petmale is supported to move much more like the animal he identifies with. Observe.”
Suki pointed a remote control at the standing petmale in the centre of her makeshift arena. He was a short, inelegant petmale named Whisker, who occasionally served as a ponyboy. As a test subject, he was owned by Femtech. The lab technicians and researchers who used him cared for the boy, but he didn’t belong to any one of them, or receive any special training.
Suki activated the harness. Whisker’s lower legs lost their strength. He sank to the floor as they would no longer bear his full weight. The tutored observers knew what they were looking for. It was hard for a male to spend a long time crawling. Their spines and legs just weren’t built for it.
“This harness must be activated in stages. Stage one has already been turned on. The petmale’s lower leg muscles are now incapable of bearing his weight, but can drive him forward on the ground. Through selective relaxation and strengthening, they are now configured to give much better purchase on all-fours.
“Stage two now begins.” Suki worked the remote control, “In this stage we work with the natural curvature of the spine, but the implants loosen some muscles near the base of the spine, and selectively activate and regulate the muscles in the rest of the torso and back. Here, see now. This is the optimal posture for maintaining a life as a four-legged human.”
Olivia had little idea what she was looking at, but she could tell from the way the petmale paced that his posture was much more stable than most of the petmales she saw around. His spine curved in a natural arc from his rump, down then back up, to the male’s shoulders. His hips moved freely, letting his tail bob around and swish back and forth. He seemed at ease.
“How does limiting his freedom of movement make him better able to move as a petmale?” asked one of the spectating women.
“With complete freedom of movement, he was able to adopt the wrong posture. What felt right to him in the moment led to strains and twists, to the wrong kind of pressure on his bones. Testing has shown that this posture minimises damage to the back and limbs. Frequent practice with an activated harness of my design appears to build the muscles in new ways, lending support to the stable posture. The harness has cured or alleviated the musculoskeletal problems of five petmales so far.
“We failed these petmales in the past by giving them too much freedom. By helping their bodies take on a well-designed configuration, we help them achieve their life’s true purpose – serving us as faithful pets.”
“You seem very sure of your results,” said the spectator.
“I am quite sure – no one has ever looked at the problem this way before. We must test the harness for a year or more before we even think about rolling it out. But look – Whisker here is happily running around at a pace he could never before achieve. Isn’t he marvellous? The harness has put a spring back into his step. Good boy, Whisker.”
The petmale woofed in return. He was happy and pain free for the first time in years. The control that Suki had exerted over his body made him feel safe and owned. It was like he was bound to his trainer by the harness, which held him fast and let him move the way he had always imagined he could. He pranced around the arena, lifting his front paws in a merry dance as his tail and caged penis bobbed behind him.
“Please, ladies, examine Whisker and the other test subjects. Give me your feedback and have the petmales perform any physical acts you might like to see them do. Then we can discuss the future of my harness.”
The petmale experts among the crowd descended on the test subjects. They ran skilful hands over the males, feeling out muscles and bones and checking their alignment. They had the males run, jump, roll over, sit up and beg, watching carefully for the tell-tale signs of poor posture or bad form. There were practically none to be seen. Despite their years of experience, they were impressed with the newcomer amongst them. Suki had proved her worth; a few of the experts were embarrassed never to have come up with the solution themselves, but they did their best to hide it. Jealousy was a poison they guarded against in their small, closed community.
Olivia congratulated Suki on the display and made her excuses. She had little interest in petmales herself and was only there to support her friend. She led Dean away by his leash, but had him stand rather than crawl for the rest of the day. She didn’t like the idea of him straining muscles on all-fours. He was dear to her and she had a duty to protect him from harm – punishments notwithstanding. Even those were fundamentally for his own good.
Olivia made little progress on her own projects for the rest of the day. Her mind was drawn to other things. Images of Suki’s petmales rose unbidden in her mind, harsh and strange. Those males were, for the most part, well-loved by their mistresses. Olivia couldn’t see how they could really connect in the way she could with Dean. While he was unquestionably her property, they had a deep bond. Late in the afternoon, Olivia abandoned her work, leashed Dean, and took a leisurely stroll with him back towards their quarters.
“Yes, mistress,” answered the male as he walked behind his owner.
“What kind of slave do you want to be for me?”
“I don’t know what you mean, mistress.”
“Just answer naturally, the first things that come into your head. What kind of slave do you, personally, want to be for me?”
“Devoted to you, mistress. Loved and loving. I love you, mistress. I want to be loved as a slave, and a man.”
“I love you, slave. Keep going.”
“A sex slave, mistress, but more than that. Someone who knows your most intimate needs and desires, and can meet them all. Someone who leaves you completely satisfied, who can show you what it means to be worshipped as a superior being.”
“Good, slave. That’s the kind of thing I mean. What do you want out of your life with me?”
“To be safe and happy with you, mistress. To serve you and to become a better person.”
“So you have thought about all this?”
“Oh yes, mistress. I think about it most days. At first I was just trying not to get punished. But gradually I came to see that I was truly happy when I obeyed you and pleased you. And even happier when you gave that affection back to me.”
“I need to be loved, slave. And to get love you must give love.”
“Yes, mistress. I understand.”
“That’s a good boy, slave. I want to be the kind of mistress you can honestly submit to. I want to rule you fairly, reasonably, not with an iron rod or a million gadgets. My word is your law but it should make sense to you why.”
“Your dominion over me is the only thing that has ever made complete sense to me, mistress.”
“That was well put, my love. Owning you completes me. Now, silence until we return to our quarters.”
Dean simply nodded to show he had understood the order. Olivia flushed with pride and arousal. She quickened her pace, almost dragging Dean back to their quarters, and hurrying in through the door. Olivia quickly stood naked, as Dean knelt before her. She fetched her strapon from its drawer and attached it to herself, then led Dean up onto the bed. He lay down on his back and kissed his mistress as she climbed on top of him.
Holding each other, with Dean unbound, they explored each other’s bodies with eager hands. Olivia unlocked her slaveboy’s cock, casting the cage to one side. His penis sprang up, proud and excited. Olivia teased it a little with her mouth, then let her strapon cock rub against her slave’s member. He gasped with delight as Olivia subjected him to her expert brand of teasing foreplay.
Olivia made her slave squeal by pinching his nipples. She made his body shudder by running her nails up and down his chest and thighs. She made him suck in breath as she dug her nails in deep, drawing blood. She made him grunt and moan as she took his cock in her hand and worked it up and down. Without permission to cum, he knew better than to let go his self-control. Olivia delighted whenever she saw such submission in his eyes. She worked his body and mind together, enslaving each as she loved him with her own.
Dean loved her body back. He guided her nipples into his mouth, sucking long and slow. He caressed her perky breasts, softly stroking then pressing hard. Olivia’s body thrilled to it. He let his fingers snake beneath the strapon harness, moving them up and down Olivia’s wet pussy. She moaned as he moved them this way and that. Dean grasped her bottom, pulling her to him, and they kissed, long and hard, Olivia’s tongue snaking inside Dean’s mouth, pushing him to give way to her will.
Olivia reached for the lube and lathered it over her strapon. Without breaking the flow of their lovemaking, she plunged it inside Dean. He let out a high-pitched squeal, innocent and tender as his mistress fucked his willing ass. They held each other’s eyes as they made love. The electronics in Olivia’s strapon sent pulses of heat into her clit, letting her build towards a climax as she took her slave. Her thrusts were slow, but firm. Dean took her cock like the good slave he was, letting her all the way inside him.
Olivia loved these moments, when Dean let go all rational thought and became almost elemental, a pure slave. She could never quite let go in the same way, but Dean was slowly showing her how to trust her instincts and be completely natural. There was a dominant force inside her, and he just needed to help her bring it out. He knew she would not harm him in that state – she was a kind goddess, a loving one. He felt safe as she fucked him.
Olivia breathed in deep with each stroke of her strapon. She made love to her slave. With every thrust, electrical pulses throbbed in her clit. She set the phallus to pulse into her slave at the same time. They were linked, then, every time Olivia entered him and their bodies shuddered together. Olivia took Dean’s cock in her hand and started to rub it up and down, getting faster as her thrusts became more frequent too.
“Thank you, mistress!” said Dean, “Your slave humbly begs to be allowed to cum.”
“Not yet, boy.”
“Yes, mistress!” he said, desperately trying to obey, his breaths ragged.
Olivia looked into his eyes and kept on fucking and stroking. She wanted to see how long he could hold out. Ten seconds passed, the boy was holding out. She fucked harder, spearing her strapon deep inside the slaveboy. His eyes thanked her. Twenty seconds, still he held. She loosened her wrist, then stroked his cock in a frenzy. Dean was moaning and panting like an animal. Still he did not cum. Thirty seconds, forty, fifty.
Olivia paused, watching the hope build on the boy’s beautiful face.
“Slave, you may cum now!”
Dean’s cum burst from his cock in great torrents. He bucked and writhed as Olivia fucked and fucked, making take every last inch of the strapon. In her clit, the pressure built and built. She needed no permission to cum, and sailed clear into a fizzing, buzzing orgasm. Her screams were heard throughout the apartment block.
“Oh! Good! Slaveboy! Oh! Your sweet ass! Uh! Takes my cock! OH UH! So well! You’re! UNF. Such a strapon slut! Uh!”
Olivia could fuck no more. She let her body fall down on her slave’s, and kissed him passionately. She let her cock stay inside him, filling him up, stretching out his hungry ass. The feeling of being inside him was hard to let go of. It was her ultimate power and his ultimate surrender.
“You’ll sleep with a plug in tonight, slaveboy.”
“Yes, mistress. Thank you, mistress. Thank you for making love to me like the cock slut I am, mistress.”
“Oh, my darling slave. You’re welcome, my love.”
“You ordered me to remind you when you’re distracted like this. May I please have my maintenance spanking later this evening?”
“Good boy for reminding me. We’ll do it in a few minutes, then you can have half an hour of corner time while I read. Now, let’s get you back in your cock cage and you can make me dinner.”
Olivia watched Dean as he went about making them their evening meal. He had learned to cook well, blending flavours and textures in all the ways she liked. She had him wear an apron when he cooked, so that no hot oils should blemish his skin. Only her hand and her whip would ever do that. She could see he was absorbed in the task, effortlessly content and no longer even conscious of his nudity. This, she thought, was the real future of their planet.