A More Stable Society

Title: More Stable Society

Author: cubedLawn

Rating: R, 18+

Warnings: bdsm, dub/noncon, body mod, M/f, M/M/M/f, incest, impregnation, M/f/f

DISCLAIMER: OBVIOUSLY everything in this document is a work of fiction and any similarities to any people in real life is purely coincidental. Also, sexual-play is fun to do, but remember that the ideas in this story are purely fictional. Some women are naturally tops and some men are naturally tops, and some are naturally switches. Racism, sexism and other isms are toxic in real life, but can add a naughty thrill to the bedroom. God bless every Goddamn one of us perverts on planet Earth.

More Stable Society

It was time, Headmaster Dunnes decided, to get a few things sorted out.

His heel scuffed on the rich carpet as he walked back and then forth in front of a row of three kneeling young women. Their eyes followed the headmaster as he moved, but their hands remained palm-down on their trim thighs, their knees spread at an angle, and their posture tight. They all showed perfect balance, as they had practiced this submissive posture since they had started going to school years ago.

“Women who don’t know their proper place aren’t fit for society,” the Headmaster said, his low voice retreading familiar ground for everyone in the room. “And this school is part of turning fit women out into society. Fit women, you dull cunts, not surly mules fit only for spinsterhood. You’ve all been sent for extra training, and this is the first and last time you will see me—unless you’ve done exceptionally well, or you’re being expelled, something you miserable cunts deserve. I needn’t remind any married girl in this room that she will be divorced automatically if she fails out.”

The blonde of the group, Amber,  swallowed. To be a spinster would be terrible, she knew, she’d heard of them. They were the unhappy, pinched face women who had been ousted from power over thirty years prior. There were still die-hard pockets of confused men and women who lived in crazy compounds in the woods where the worth of a woman was actually said to be equal to a man! Amber didn’t believe that nonsense for a second—she’d been brought up right by two older brothers, but it wasn’t fair of her husband, Mark, to send her to the government program simply because she hadn’t kept the house and meals done. It was his fault for making her do so much, and so she got cranky. It was his fault she’d misbehaved!

Beside Amber, a dark-haired girl with green eyes was watching her. Natasha  knelt, too,  and her chin was low. Her pouting lips moved as she chewed on the inside of one of them. She’d really screwed up, she knew. She’d only been in the back yard, but then a renovator  from next door’s had told her to service him behind his truck, and Flint had told her that she was open to any man. She’d had to obey, and then his friends had wanted the use of her mouth and hands, her ass and pussy, and so she’d worked hard to bring each one to pleasure. 

The first man’s cock buried in her cunt, Natasha had moaned then as pleasure flooded over her. This was, she knew, what she was meant to do. She began to rhythmically tense her inner muscles, her knees by her shoulders and her feet pointing at the ceiling. She could smell the men’s musk, her fingers brushed over their erections and the nipples on top of her DD breasts stiffened. Heat grew between her thighs, her chest growing tight, and after she’d knelt down in front of all three men in a proper greeting, she didn’t hesitate when they told her to strip.

The first man’s strokes had been blissful. Flint hadn’t let her orgasm for the past week, he hadn’t touched her except to finger her once a day till she’d been right on the brink and then pulling away. It had been torture, and now the dam had burst. She couldn’t control herself. Natasha’s first orgasm was long and blisteringly hot when the first man’s cock pulsed and sticky, hot sperm flooded deep inside her. She keened, his large hands squeezing her titmeat hard in his rough hands, his cock hammering the woman’s pussy.

She hardly noticed when they’d switched out turns and another man’s cockhead rested on her ass. This man hadn’t hesitated either as he shoved his cockhead and didn’t wait to start jerking his hips. He was far thicker and Natasha whimpered as he fucked her, her pained cries drowned out by the men’s grunting, laughing and heavy breathing.

One of them began twisting her nipples, and he pinched them hard enough for Natasha to yelp. Quickly   a t-shirt was shoved into her mouth, thick fingers almost choking her. They laughed as she wailed behind the gag, tears pricking her eyes as the second man continued to pound her beneath him.

His hands gripped her waist and the second man began to move her back and forth, almost just using her body to masturbate himself. Natasha cried into the rag, the agony in her ass not mellowing into pleasure without any kind of lubrication. Finally the second man emptied himself in her ass. He grabbed her nose, pulled her head back and slapped her across the face, then again and again.

Natasha sobbed in pain and fear, cum dribbling from her pussy and ass, her face red and her black hair in disarray. The second man stood back.

“Cunt,” the third man said, the one with the piglike nose, the jiggling belly that had hung over the belt of his jeans, the huffing breath and the foul smell. “Take the rag out your mouth. Against the brick wall. Present. “

Natasha obeyed, thankful for the instruction even though the ugly man repulsed her. She crawled to the brick wall, the gravel stinging her bare knees and palms with each step, and then finally rose to her feet and braced her hands on the wall. She spread her feet shoulderwidth apart, arched her back to keep her used sex on display, and then lowered her head to show her respect of the men.

Thank God, she figured, they’d let her talk now and she could explain that she had to get back home to check in with Flint and then she could satisfy them as he’d ordered.

“You got some cum on my pants, girl,” the first man said, approaching. His meaty cock, the base surrounded by thick black pubic hair, swinging from the undone pants around his hips. It glistened with her juices and his own seed. While she was naked, he hadn’t even bothered to get undressed. He’d just unzipped and plugged it in with a satisfied sigh.

“This girl is sorry, sir,” Natasha had said, arching her back harder, trying to show how contrite she was. She swallowed back her tears. “This girl begs your forgiveness, and she begs permission to speak, sirs.”

“Where’s your master, cunt?”

“His house is two doors down, sir.”

“And you’re free to all?” he said, a slow smirk spreading across his face. It was dark and he reached down to form a fist around his hardening cock. “No limits except the usual?”

She nodded, fear curling in her chest. “N-No disfiguring this girl or permanent damage, sirs.”

Natasha felt a hand fisting in her hair, and then she felt the first of many ringing slaps.

So you see, it wasn’t her fault that she hadn’t been home in the next ten  minutes, or in the next few hours, and hadn’t answered the cell phone Flint had given her! She wasn’t trying to avoid serving him by flirting with strangers  and having them take hours of her time! Not on purpose! At least, not this time.

The headmaster was speaking again, and all four girls felt the vibration when the headmaster sat in his leatherbound chair behind his desk. The headmaster was calm man, his baritone voice was soft, but according to reputation he used his personal wealth to purchase, torture and break a new woman each month from the markets. The resulting individuals were thereafter considered irrepairable, and resold to masters and husbands who wanted docile, trouble-free or completely unthinking women.

“This school specialises in girls who are not stupid, as far as women go,” the headmaster continued. His eyes swept from side to side, seeking out any defiance or insubordination. “ No, but out of troubled ranks of your kind are some who have had the stupidity to join those feminist communes in the woods. So you will all be re-attending your Gender and Society classes, and you will be studying literature and writing essays regarding the false idea of male-female equality, and on the natural superiority of the male to the female.  What are some of the ways in which the male is the stronger of the two? Down the line, starting with Natasha.”

“The female is emotional and weak, sir,” the black haired woman said. “She lacks the clarity men posses.”

“The male is intelligent and creative,” Amber recited. “He invents and teaches. The woman learns and serves him.”

“The male is master over what he possesses, and the female adores his  mercy and forgiveness for her stupidity, and for any failures to show her thankfulness for his masculinity,” said Sara, a tomboyish, slender young woman who looked slight compared to Natasha’s fat, full tits and Amber’s toned legs and belly.

“The failures of the old world became obvious,” the headmaster said. He got to his feet. He was considered to be someone who enjoyed the sound of his own voice, and Dunnes  allowed himself to indulge in one of his favourite pastimes: educating the feeble minded. “Before, men and women lived in proper relation to one another, but once the plush cities arose, Woman acted out of her place. She began trying to take on more and more responsibility. Of course, when women had control over themselves, society went to shit. Workplace instability with girls trying to command grown me, foolish business decisions by women placed in top spots for the sake of ‘political correctness’ weakened even the largest corporations. Unemployment and crime rose as soon as women began entering the government,  and I haven’t mentioned the destroyed families, miserable millions of men and women forced to interact in unnatural ways, millions of male children aborted, and the millions more that should have been born—but weren’t, because women missed their prime breeding years by indulgently wasting time with birth control pills, spending money and filling their heads with feminist trash!”

He spun on them, his foot lashed out and caught Amber in the stomach. She cried out and fell to the floor, but quickly resumed her kneeling posture. The women all shivered. They’d heard this story before, they’d heard it every day growing up.

“The one time equality was truly tried—failure. Women could not lead society. They couldn’t even lead themselves!” The man scowled down, disdain curling his lip. They disgusted him. How many young men had women ruined or killed when society had been in the grips of that toxic fad? Women were scarcely above animals—just clever ones that talked and were useful if you wanted to breed some more or wanted amusement. The more Headmaster Dunnes had to hammer the point home, the more he realised the truth of the message. Women needed to be mastered, not despite their screaming for equality, but because of it. They craved boundaries, and men had finally set them after indulgently allowing things to go too far. They acted out like a child, squalling and causing trouble until authority was forced to act. He exhaled. “Finally the decision was made to put things right again, and we’ve returned to peace. But we know now. We know that the place of a woman is at her master’s feet. Isn’t that right, cunts?”

Amber and Natasha nodded quickly, but Sara did not.

“Some women are smarter than men!” she blurted out. The other two women looked at her, aghast. They leaned away. Sara continued on. “I’ve seen it! I can solve math problems faster than my father, so... I mean... how come that happens?”

She trembled at the end of it, and looked up at the Headmaster, her slim hands folded into fists. He stepped softly on the floor and towered over her. What was he going to do—beat her? He said that he didn’t think they were stupid as far as women went, and this problem had been weighing on her for a long time.

“Cunt,” he said, voice bored. “You really think you’re the first one to notice that sometimes that happens?”

Sara started to speak, then shook her head. She didn’t know what was the right way to answer. She felt his hand settle on top of her head, pushing her chin down against her chest. Sara spread her knees wide, trying to incite his mercy by her submission. He gave a pleased grunt and put the toe of his shoe up and into her pussy. He wiggled the shoe back and forth to watch her squirm, a feeling approaching pity for her in his chest.

“So what if some cunt can solve a few math problems faster than some random man? Some women are great at math, but given the fact that women naturally fall to ruin without man’s mastery over her, her talent is useless without him constantly guiding and directing her. Don’t think of it as your talent, Sara, think of it like you’re holding that talent in your genes and if one of your children is a son, you can pray that the talent finally found a vessel where it won’t be wasted.”

Sara blinked, staring down at the carpet. It was true, she realised. She’d thought she’d been so clever when she figured out that she was better at math, but... well, that made a lot more sense. Everyone knew what had happened to the world when feminists had run things, and everything was more peaceful now, things were  set right.

She sniffled in relief.

“See?” the headmaster said gently. “You can’t even keep your head about you. How do you expect to be taken seriously, hm? This is why men speak in public, and women sit and learn.”

Sara nodded, swallowing hard.

“Th-this girl just keeps having these kinds of thoughts, sir!” she said after a moment, her hands shaking as she confessed. “And th-then this girl starts thinking bad things about men, sir, and—and disobeying!”

“That’s why you were sent here, to get some extra training,” the man said, lifting her face now so he could give her a brief smile. Sara nodded. This school might not be so bad after all, she thought.

“But there remains the issue of your using the word ‘I’ and ‘my’,” the headmaster said, his eyes narrowing. “And so you’ve simplified one thing for me, my dear.”

Dunnes smiled, taking pleasure in the growing fear in her eyes. “One of my brother’s breeders died last night in labour. I have the option of choosing any female in this facility and as new students you all qualify. So one of you three to replace the stock, and it looks like any thoughts of yours won’t matter much anymore, Sara, not when you’re locked in a breeding cube. You’re going to grow and drop calves so quickly on our new drugs you’ll be dead in four years. But no sons for you, just daughter after daughter.”

Sara blinked, her mind a blank whirl. Just like that, her entire destiny had changed? Her father wasn’t going to swoop in and save her? Had her father known this might happen? She said nothing when the handlers came and clipped a leash on her collar, and she crawled after them. She felt numb with shock  as she crawled down the hallway. Around her students let out of class paid the leashed woman no mind. Young men in school uniform chatted with each other between classes as their school-issue slave knelt nearby with her master’s books. Sara said nothing as she was crated and her collar clipped to two restraints. She was stuck on her hands and knees, head stationary. The truck roared to life and they made other stops, the cages around her filled with other young women. Some fought, but handlers prodded with electric sticks and they quickly climbed in the cages.  Sara phased out, miserable.

She’d wanted to make her father’s babies. He’d started a small contest between her and her sister, and it was now clear that she’d lost. Sara  looked down at her own stomach, at her flat belly. It had been swollen once with her father’s child, and she’d run her hands over her belly again and again, a sexual feeling of satisfaction warming her pussy when she remembered her life at home.

Their father was a man who’d lost interest in his aging wife’s wrinkled body, and had looked upon the bodies of his two grown daughters with a new eye. He began to watch Sara’s body when she knelt to remove his shoes after he returned home from work, when she did her chores  and yardwork. Her sister and her mother all kneeled by the door as first Paul entered, and then Sara’s brother Jordan. Her brother was two years older than her, and she first kissed the top of his foot, then began to undo the laces as the two men talked.

“Dad, this project Mr Jenning gave us is totally unfair!” he griped, switching the foot in Sara’s lap. She kissed the other foot and began to undo the laces. Beside her, her mother finished taking off Paul’s shoes, and she set them to the side and murmured her thanks for his presence. “Eight pages in four days? Come on!”

Paul shrugged. He was an average-looking man with glasses too wide for his face and the beginnings of some mid-forties weight beginning to gather at his stomach, but he still retained some of the rugged energy of his youth. A desk job had softened him, but exercise kept his muscles hard.

Paul gestured to Sara, then flicked his hand upstairs.

“Sara, you’ll attend me. Jordan, whip your other sister. My lunch today was awful,” he said, heading upstairs with daughter crawling in tow. She glanced back over her shoulder as she headed up, only to see her sister holding back tears and crawling after her brother. Jordan liked to whip, and he took a long time dragging out each sound of misery from his sisters.

Sara followed Paul into his room, past the large bed that her mother shared with him most nights when he didn’t have her sleep on the floor in front of it, collared and hobbled. Paul enjoyed hobbling all his women, and he especially liked watching them crawl back and forth. Stephanie’s chest was large and her nipples dragged on the carpet when she knelt in worship before the family shrine to their fore-fathers. Sara’s tinier titties didn’t even reach, and she wished for the millionth time that her father would let her get implants.

They entered the bathroom and Paul came to a stop, then held out his arms. Sara automatically began to undress him in silence, being as gentle and quiet as she could.

She knelt to undo her father’s  pants, and when  she pulled his boxers and pants down and off his legs, she stole glances at her father’s penis. She’d never been ordered to personally attend him before, and so she was nervous.  His cock was longer than most men’s, circumcised and heavy-looking. The two balls behind it were large, and Sara could smell her father’s soap and sweat, his musk and the faintest trace of piss. Arousal kindled between her legs and Sara shifted, one hand coming to a rest on the muscle of Paul’s thigh.

She swallowed, then looked up under her bangs at her father, only to find him gazing down at her.

“I want another son,” he said. “And I’m going to breed you and your sister until you give me what I want.”

Her mouth dried, and all Sara could do was nod. She nodded again, caught in the power of his gaze and she slid her hand up, up to grasp the cock that had made her. She shifted again, blood and heat making her desire grow to suckle on the cock, to lick it and nuzzle it, to worship it and then have it fill her with incestuous seed over and over.  She panted, turned her head towards the cock that was filling with blood in front of her face, and every breath overpowered Sara with her own father’s scent.

She was surprised at how quickly the shock of what they were doing wore off, and how quickly her instincts and body took over. She wanted it.

“The first one of you to give me a son, I’ll get rid of your mother. Whoever gives me a son is my new wife,” he said, watching the raw lust in his daughters face. She shifted again, squirming as she knelt before him, the hunger in her soft pants and the way her fingers curled possessively over his cock.

She was cute, Paul felt, it would be satisfying to fuck her slender body and to watch it fill out tits and a belly potentially carrying another son to carry on his name. He was only fifty years old, and with the replacements from organ-farms there was no reason why he wouldn’t survive to a hundred. Women, of course, tended to have lifespans that topped out at 35. There wasn’t much use for an old female who could neither work nor breed.

“You won’t waste your time with worthless embryos,” he said.

“No, sir,” Sara said, slowly pumping her hand up and down her father’s dick. She smelled precome dribbling from the head’s piss-slit, and her saliva glands kicked into action. Was he seriously telling her she’d abort any girl children she was impregnated with?

It felt good.

“Suck,” he said, and that was all she needed to begin lapping at his cock, drinking precome and  slurping at the underside, nose buried in her father’s crotch as she inhaled his sweat and scent, moaned as she tongued his sack, looked up at him to make sure his face was pleased and  mewled around his cock when he chuckled at her.

“Wall, present,” he said finally, and Sara had bolted to her feet. She spread her hands on the bathroom wall and assumed the position she’d learned as a child, though it had just been play until her first boyfriend. Sara knew what she was offering when she stuck her ass out and looked under her arm at her father. Her cunt felt like it was burning, and all she could think of was how right it would feel for her father’s cock inside her.

Sara shifted on her feet, an impatient mewl making her dance a little, wag her ass from side to side in eagerness.  She knew what pregnancy was, she knew that satisfying the man who owned her was her highest duty, and she imagined that she was already pregnant with his son. Each step her father took was too slow, and when he reached her, he flipped her shift up around her hips and  sank into her juiced cunt without a word. She couldn’t contain a long moan of womanly satisfaction, her back bowed and her calves tense. She was pushing her ass back into it, arching her back and rotating her pelvis, delighting in the feeling of a strong male overtop of her, owning her in the truest sense because to fuck was to submit to his guidance, his power, to bring him to release.

She’d laughed at the textbook when she’d read that in fifth grade, but the words came back to her then and she understood.

She felt complete with his cock in her cunt , and his hands grasping her hips with enough pressure to bruise. His cock squelched in the mess of her sex and he set the pace. He fucked her through an orgasm when she trembled and whined, milked his cock and even begged him to come in her faster, deeper, now, please, daddy, please fuck me, please make me your woman, daddy, breed your cunt, she wants it, please, daddy!

But Paul set the pace, and it was like her classes said; she needed his voice and hands to guide her, she needed him to decide when was the right moment,  she needed the security of knowing that his needs were utterly satisfied so she could enjoy her own. Sara bucked her hips when her father hit something inside of her and he bellowed, hand cracking on her ass.

She squealed and his hand came down again with punishing force. She came, legs stiffening and throat choking, her insides convulsing around his shaft as he beat her. She jerked and spasmed in pleasure and pain, fingers clawing at the wall. It was enough to push Paul over the edge, and he yanked her ass into his lap, buried to his balls in his daughter as he came. 

He held her there for some time, until the primal part of his brain was satisfied that his load was in her, and then he stepped back. Sara leaned against the wall, breathing hard.

“Th-thank you, father,” she managed, before sinking down to her knees. The position was over, and so with a man in the room the only place for her was on her knees. Her cunt felt hot and wet, throbbing with pleasure that made her hesitate, then turn around and lay her ear on the floor, elbows by her ears and her ass as high as she could make it. She trembled in the inviting posture, breath shaking as his semen ran down her thighs and over her lips. It had scarcely been thirty seconds, but she was flirting for more, advertising her desire for him.

She licked her lips, gazing back up at him with half-lidded eyes, mind serene with want. It was so simple, she realised, and at the same time complex inside her head.

He stepped past her and into the shower, evidently not finished with her yet. She’d never had to wash her father before, but Sara crawled to the shower stall and kissed the top of her father’s feet softly. She felt full and satisfied and part of her hoped that had been the load that would impregnate her with her own little brother and son.  She looked up at him and he held his dick in his fingers, smiling.

When his urine splashed over her, hot and pungent, she startled, but then ducked her head as her father finished pissing in her hair. He aimed it in her ears, in her face, all over so she was covered with his stink, and he stood over her.

Sara shifted and outrightly grovelled before him in the shower, kissing at her father’s feet and whispering apologies for whatever it was she’d done to displease him. She still burned with lust, though, and the piss made it more urgent somehow.   Sara raised her bruised ass in the air, kissing at Paul’s feet again when she heard his gruff voice order.

“All fours, present.”

He took her again in the shower, then again on the bed he usually shared with Sara’s mother while she cooked dinner with Stephanie in the kitchen below. After dinner he took Stephanie to his room and Sara was barely able to control her jealous stare as her sister crawled after their father.

He fucked them both whenever the mood struck him, sometimes making one sister wait at the side of the bed and masturbate him back to hardness after he’d spurted a load in one of the females, just so he could give her sister the same treatment. He had them both attend to him after work, ordering them to cup and lift their tits in offering to him so he could piss all over them. His steaming piss soaked their bodies, their faces and  splattered against their mouths.

“This is all you’re fucking good for,” Paul said. He regarded his two daughters, both of them covered in his urine. They shifted, still offering their breasts up to him, shifting and tensing their thighs to try and relieve the desire. Stephanie’s soft, large tits spilled over her hands while Sara gripped hers firmly.

It wasn’t long before both pairs of tits were pierced and ringed, and Paul would yank on the chain, or clip it to a chain connected between their ankles to make crawling an exercise in pain. He’d started to beat their breasts with a bamboo cane until Jordan reminded their father that stress made it harder to conceive. Paul relented on the canings, but refused to budge on pissing. It was a favourite activity of his. It really hammered home his dominance, he felt, and when he saw his son Jordan holding his girlfriend’s chin in one hand and  pissing all over her face and into her open mouth, Paul smiled in approval.

His wife, of course, knew what was coming. She thought she’d hated it when Paul pissed all over her, but now it was somehow more terrifying that he’d stopped. She was ignored, a silent presence in the house where her two children competed to replace her.

Sara caught before Stephanie, and she had been so proud when her period stopped and her tits began to ache and then grow. A test had confirmed it, and over time Sara watched the changes take place. She was tested for the sex of the child, and her father kept the results of the test secret from her. Fucking became even more heightened as Sara took her father’s cock as often as she could, and he took to ejaculating on her growing belly. She started rubbing his urine into his skin and even opened her mouth to gulp.

“Thank you, father,” she said one morning after she and Stephanie had spent the night chained in front of the bed. He unclipped their collars so they could drink and wash. She was four months pregnant at this point, and each day it was more and more exciting. Was she keeping it because it was a boy? Had she done it? Her stomach hung down lower, round and soft on her otherwise trim frame.

Paul zipped himself back into his pants. He’d ordered Sara to kneel in front of him as he jerked off onto her chest and tits, and he was enjoying the way the creamy load rounded her swollen nipples.

“Make an appointment with the clinic,” he said, pulling on his jacket as he went out the door. “You aren’t growing anything worthwhile. ”

She hadn’t wanted the abortion, but what choice did she have? If she’d resisted, her father would have just had handlers forcibly end it, and if he didn’t want it then Sara decided she wouldn’t, either. It just made her pray for a boy harder, and when her sister’s pregnancy was terminated as well, they redoubled their efforts.

Sara hadn’t gotten pregnant since then, but her sister had, just before she’d been sent to the government school.

Her father, it seemed, had found success with Stephanie.

-

In the room, Natasha and Amber had received the rest of their formal introduction to the school. They were given a uniform, a school collar and tag, their Women’s Readers, a few writing implements and the class schedule of the boy they’d been assigned to assist.

They would have to meet their master at the start and end of each class, carry his books, write down his homework and serve him as needed throughout the day. While their school-masters were in class, they would attend class as well. There were cooking and massage classes, childcare and gardening, and of course Social  and Sexual Theory class where they learned the rules and manners for successfully pleasing their school-master, or any man who was in a position to order their services.

Natasha and Amber both wondered what happened to Sara a few times over the next few months, but mostly their days and nights were filled with the re-education regarding a woman’s place. The Social and Sexual Theory class was surprisingly liberal in allowing them to voice their honest thoughts and feelings, both girls found, and the women who taught the class were very good at explaining the proofs of male superiority.

When Amber kneeled before her husband several months later it was with a real feeling of worship. She’d learned in the school how women had done their best to destroy society before they were brought to heel, how much she owed Mark. He fed her, gave her a place to sleep, gave her attention and directions,  he forgave her mistakes and he gave her life purpose with raising his children.

Other people, Amber knew, might not find Mark too impressive. He had a belly, his hair was thinning and his cock was barely four inches long, but the school had done a good job in making her aware of the value even low-level working men like Mark gave to society that a girl could not. She seemed to take more joy in her duties, and all it took was a few  hard slaps to have her co-operation in any of the games Mark devised.

Mark found Amber very changed after he had sent her back for re-education, and he recommended the process to several friends who owned various females they were annoyed with but didn’t want to sell or slaughter. Amber was impregnated and Mark sold the female that Amber birthed. The next child was a son, which earned Amber the right to have a few dollars each week to spend on whatever she liked, so long as her purchases were approved by her husband.

Mark decided that he needed a hobby, and so it was without announcement that he returned home one evening with a variety of switches and long, thin canes.  Her breasts, he explained, just made him feel like they needed to be whipped. There was something about the shape that aroused something in him, and there was a dark edge to it.

She trembled every time he ordered her to kneel in front of his easychair, lifting her breasts and quietly begging him in a scripted performance.

“P-Please, master. Your slave’s tits need whipping,” she murmured, blinking back tears. She could feel her slit moistening and she tried her best to ignore it. “P-Please punish this whore’s filthy body, master. Please fill my cunt with your cock, master, this slave itches and burns for her master’s body overtop of her.”

Yes, Mark decided, the government school had ended up good for all involved indeed.

The End

****

Author’s Notes: Writing that was a lot of fun. I hope it turned you all on.  I basically sat down and wrote this out with little planning for plot. It’s pretty much stream of consciousness smut. What did you think of the story? Let me know!

Disclaimer: OBVIOUSLY everything in this document is a work of fiction and any similarities to any people in real life is purely coincidental. Also, sexual-play is fun to do, but remember that the ideas in this story are purely fictional. Some women are naturally tops and some men are naturally tops, and some are naturally switches. Racism, sexism and other isms are toxic in real life, but can add a naughty thrill to the bedroom. God bless every Goddamn one of us perverts on planet Earth.