Chapter 9

Veen was soon to find that not all males who found themselves entertaining the hospitality of Zeeta and the women aboard the Atalanta, fell victim to the immediate sport which lustily appeased feminine sadism there. Now safely returned to Varnella’s leash after having provided the women with a little entertainment himself, via a sound whipping by her, He watched from a parapet high above a grand entrance to the citadel he’d not witnessed before, as a column of males under strict obedience were marshalled toward the grand portal.

Selected and kept in reserve for future entertainment in the bowels of the Atalanta, some not having seen natural daylight in years, the selected stock of masculine enslavement which would provide service and pleasure for the new rulers of Vulvador, had been transported by craft to a point some 500 yards from the citadel wall, and made to approach their final destination upon their knees, so that they ... and their feminine captors, could thoroughly enjoy and appreciate their new station of enslavement. Zeeta smiled as the crack of the guard’s whips echoed across the open grassland, heralding the succession of her new order.

A vast mixture of eunuchs and ungelded, many having been castrated for their crimes, many had been made to long for their deaths at the hand of their superior captors, and many knew that that eternal peace would be forthcoming within a short time, as they looked on in awe at what faced them. As per all the portals to the citadel, this entrance bore no semblance of gate or barrier; the feminine inhabitants within feared, nothing from without the citadel walls, and what marked this open entrance personified that smug feminine arrogance, exciting many of the intact males to a masochistic arousal.

A huge feminine colossus stood framed within the magnificent portal, its white marble figure, standing with legs astride, through which the pathway ventured. With hands on broad hips, in a pose of regal dominance, the cunt was fashioned in bold arousal in the smooth and shining stone, its clitoris poking from the apex of the slot ... and from its rising nub hanged a male on a short rope, freshly selected and executed, gagged and trussed from head to toe, his manhood hanging limp in defeat.

The whips brought them forward, beneath the gape of the cunt above, and its symbolic gesture of defeated masculinity, miniscule in comparison to the power of femininity, as it twirled delectably on the noose. They were made to fear the worst, though on this day, they’d be treated to a spectacle they could never have imagined. Brought through to be lined up upon their knees in tiers which faced across an open plaza, those with balls and already primed by the spectacle of the hanged male, erected fully on their eyes being treated to the vision across the open expanse.

The far side was occupied by a row of some twenty gallows, raised high up, and kneeling, trussed, naked and squirming on the high gantry below each noose, were the key women of Blackhall and Gelding house. Each had a smirking guard in attendance behind them, keeping their heads high to ensure they took in the pleasure of all who’d come to witness their disposal. A high platform projected out from below the gantry, surfaced ominously with black leather padding, which was visible to both victims to be, and viewers. Upon this invitingly comfortable surface strutted hooded ceremonial guards with ornate scimitars, and beyond the gully which ran beside it, mingled the massed femininity of the lower houses, who’d tired of the oppressive regime of the two houses vying for absolute power, and showing their open jubilation at the coming fate of the trussed women.

The wry smiles and sneering jibes acknowledged by the bound women, and the acceptance of their fate, had some of them sweetly aroused at the darkly erotic spectacle they’d provide; the sadism they’d shown masculinity, haunted them in exquisite fashion as Zeeta’s stock of masculine slaves ogled the bulges of feminine flesh made prominent by the tight bondage, the sight of masculinity erect in sexual enjoyment at witnessing what the women so thoroughly deserved, having some poke their nipples rock hard, in a lust to know the grip of the noose. Zeeta and her entourage of victorious guards, along with the other women and an excited Veen, descended from the high parapet to receive applause from the citadel women, eager to show their alliance to a matriarch they viewed as their saviour, rather than the invading feminine despot she actually was. Lushly aroused at the prospect of what was to come, she would now demonstrate her ruthlessness to the women of the citadel. Looking to a guard at one end of the projecting staging, she clapped her hands.

The guard acknowledged Zeeta’s command with a broad smile and a bow, before opening a door at the end of the staging, and the watching women applauded enthusiastically as the prime members of the two defeated house’s masculine stock, who’d escaped the initial slaughter of their male associates by the guards, and had been teased with the possibility of the mercy of enslavement under the new ruler, were encouraged out by the song of whips, to see the ornate scimitars which they’d be rewarded with. Skara smiled wistfully at Varnella, seeing her lick her lips and sigh with sadistic arousal.

“They’re seen as contaminated stock, of course ... no remnants of the prior regime will be allowed the chance to influence Zeeta’s masculine property ... they’ll know the bliss of being freed by the blade, and it’ll set up their owners nicely for the drop.” Veen felt Varnella’s lust for the spectacle through her firm grip on his leash, and erected hard as his eyes went to the bound women, who squirmed and grunted through their gags, on watching their favoured pets and prominent trustee eunuchs wriggle helplessly below, laid face down in a line to look upon the eager crowd of women as they were trussed at the ankles, wrists behind their backs. The feisty Avra, rubbed at her cunt unashamedly, as she added flavour to the spectacle.

“Oh yes, just like dynasties of old., when the ruler died, all their servants were executed to serve them in the afterlife ... the beauty here, is that those rulers will see it before they depart.” As the last of the 50 or so slaves was committed to his wriggling position upon the staging, and took in the lusting and vindictive smiles of womanhood, whilst the shapely guards posed with their scimitars, Zeeta looked to her own stock, pleased to see that all those who retained their balls, were keenly erect ... she would ensure that they remembered the day, and the full taste of masochistic pleasure at what might be their own destiny one day, as they cowered under her gaze.

“You’ll masturbate in honour of what you see ... we’ll have the wasting of semen, accompany the wasting of worthless masculinity... “. Her eyes went up to the higher gantry with a wicked smile.

“ ... and this one opportunity to witness the demise of defeated femininity.” The audience of women aided already firm erections to pert rigidity, curtly ridiculing the slaves as they gripped their cocks and stropped eagerly in blissful stimulation, perked by the submissive shame of doing so, and further stimulated by a nod from Zeeta, which saw the women noosed in preparation. Veen watched the women quiver as the nooses were slipped over their heads, then felt the jerk on his leash, and his balls tingled as Varnella, Skara, and Area smiled down at him, his redheaded mistress ensuring he didn’t miss out.

“You too Veen ... you’ll not escape ridicule ... strop!” Veen didn’t hesitate, and blessed his luck at being owned by such a superior woman, as her curt laughter cut through him, on watching him self-abuse to order, the lush humiliation of being dominated by her so totally, having him strop vigorously. Zeeta sighed with pleasure at seeing Candia in particular, squirm in her bondage as the knot was drawn tight about her neck, then looked down again as she sent her command to the guards on the lower platform.

“Eunuchs first ... we’ll have the intact, savour what’s coming!” The crowd of women almost hushed to a silence as one of the shapely guards lifted her scimitar high, the bulging camel-toe in her tight leather leggings, prominent in displaying the pleasure of her duty, and having Veen already fighting to hold back his semen on seeing her spiteful enthusiasm in bringing the blade down in a swift arc ... and the feminine crowd roared their approval as the dull thud of the blade severed the eunuch’s head cleanly, sending it rolling into the gully to smile serenely at its delighted audience, announcing the debacle of erotic carnage had begun.

Veen humped and jerked erratically in edging so soon, and fighting the temptation to let loose his seed, on pondering the thoughts of those males as the guard posed over them, and the unbridled and spiteful delight of femininity shown, as a guard at the other end of the row demonstrated her eager prowess in swiftly dispatching another; his perversely submissive and pathetic masochism toward feminine superiority, bringing on a divine jealousy at not being down there himself, gripped him as he stropped.

Having spent so recently in comparison to those of Zeeta’s stock, his urges to shoot his seed were pale in respect to their desire, and several earned the righteous and goading ridicule of women close by as they pulsed forth their semen to disgrace their broken dignities, the smug conceit of dominant femininity ensuring they shot their wads of seed high. They continued to strop post ecstasy, eager to repeat the blissful humiliation, so fervent was their lust at the spectacle. But their need to ejaculate in the bliss of submission was as nothing compared to those intact males who wriggled and thrust their erect cocks at the padding in urgency, primed exquisitely by the pleasure shown by their feminine audience, as heads rolled into the gully ever closer to theirs, each face visible, expressing the serenely submissive pleasure granted them by the blade.