Copyright© 2004 by Kien Reti
On the way to work I stopped off in the town square to fuck the rapist. I had been feeling tense and just a bit horny that morning, and I needed something to take the edge off.
His asshole was still dripping come from the last Citizen who had relieved himself, so I didn't even have to dip into the ceramic urn of lubricating unguent. He was docile and compliant, and it wasn't necessary to administer discipline with the electric cattle prod to get him to spread his legs. All that time bent over like that, with his head and wrists pinioned -- confined in the stocks -- must have thoroughly broken his spirit. His ass was warm and slick inside, and it accommodated my physical needs quite adequately. I felt better afterwards.
My supervisor was very understanding. "So, Johnnie boy, you had a little therapeutic errand to attend to, did you? Hey, hey, we all need to get our ashes hauled every once in a while, huh, kiddo? How about you stay an extra half hour this afternoon to make up for the time you were late. Just don't let on to Mistress Lenore that I let you off easy."
Sacred Womanhood! I had no intention of saying anything at all to her, not now, not ever. Not if I had any choice. She was one of those hardasses who'd stick you into forced labor for a month just for looking cross-eyed at her. She was also rumored to be a Conduit of Power, one of those women -- the ones who ran things from behind the scenes, the ones who could bend the Divine Mysteries to their will.
As it turned out, Mistress Lenore summoned me that very afternoon.
"Jonathan Enoch, assistant clerk."
"At your service, mistress."
"We have been monitoring your progress in the organization. Work reports have been uniformly excellent, and you are under consideration for a merit pay increase."
"Thank you, mistress."
There was a long pause. She was leading up to something. Something I would probably prefer to avoid. Something that no doubt meant trouble somewhere down the line.
"I have taken a special interest in you, Jonathan Enoch."
She paused again. I didn't say anything.
"First, we must test your suitability for rendering certain services. Remove your clothing. All of it."
I was standing there with my arms wrapped around my chest, shivering. My shirt, pants, and underwear, and socks lay on the chair, folded neatly.
"Come here. Bend forward. Yes, over the desk. Reach behind and spread your cheeks. Good. It will be necessary to determine the capacity and flexibility of your rectum and lower intestine. Relax your anal sphincter."
She was using the Command Voice. I couldn't have resisted even if I had wanted to.
There was something HARD AND COLD AND SLIPPERY being inserted into me.
"You will feel no fear. All tension will leave you."
I sagged into a puddle on the desktop. Every muscle in my body had turned to jelly. I didn't seem to have any conscious volition left.
"I am probing you with a measuring device. It is an adaptation of a pre-Change proctoscope, but with certain cunning refinements. Ah, yes. This will do."
The whatever-it-was slowly withdrew out of my body cavity. It came out of my ass with a liquid slurp. I had just been sodomized by a metal instrument. Of course, I couldn't feel any anger or resentment over it. I was grateful, deeply moved that one of the Women of Power had seen fit to touch me.
We men have become accustomed to such things. And this wasn't the first time that my own inner cavities had been intruded upon by a woman in authority. Some of these women, I've heard tell, even enjoy strapping on a dildo -- or worse -- and having their way with a man in the manner that men used to "take" women, though that hasn't happened to me. In the olden days, we would have considered it an invasion or even violation of our body. Something akin to rape. But most everything is different now.
We live in a calm and well-ordered world since The Change. Everyone knows their place in the Grand Design. Women run things, as is right and proper. We men know our place. We serve and obey, as we must, for we lack the Power. It's really quite a small price to pay for security and stability -- the comfort we enjoy.
Men had pretty well messed up the world with science and technology. We had damn near succeeded in destroying the environment. It had taken a series of catastrophic ecological disasters to wake everyone up. That, and the paradigm-shift magic of a small group of female visionaries, the New Enchantment Group, the ones later called the Women of Power.
They were witches, or perhaps sorceresses would be more accurate. They had inadvertently hit upon a system of symbol manipulation that worked, and not only worked but tore open the very fabric of reality, the structure of the physical universe. It wasn't really magic in the classical sense, but it was close enough that it didn't really matter.
What really does matter is that women rule. Men obey. Most every woman has enough of the Power within her to command and force her will on men. A few women have much more of the Power. And woe to any man who offends, or, heaven forbid, actually injures a woman. And double woe to rapists.
Rapists. A few men still get the urge to physically assault women, or even to... to force sex upon them. These men somehow manage to find victims. There are still a very few women out there either deficient in the Power or lacking in the will to use it. But the rapists get caught. Always. And the punishment fits the crime.
Mistress Lenore granted me a two-day leave of absence from work. "We have something special in mind for you, Jonathan Enoch. Rest and recuperate, and when you return, report directly to me." She favored me with a cold, cold smile and dismissed me from her presence.
Uh-oh. I had a pretty good hunch about what she planned for me. Yeah. Even Women of Power, exalted as they are, have certain urges and desires to satisfy. Unspeakable desires. There are persistent rumors that they take hapless males for personal playthings. It seemed like a pretty good bet that Mistress Lenore had chosen me as her man-toy, her butt-slut.
There would be compensations. I had been running low on personal funds. But, when I checked my account, the balance was over 25,000 Creds. I checked again. No mistake, there had been an authorized transfer from the Regional Finance Authority. For "special services," the notation read. Apparently, my new status carried with it certain, well, privileges. But I knew payback time was coming.
.... There is more of this story ...