You can read this story as a standalone tale. It takes place within the larger context of the MASTER’S WORLD Universe. Life in that universe is most fully described in the serial <a href=http://storiesonline.net/s/14876:183311>”Welcome to My World”</a> and to a lesser extent in other stories. The place called Harem World is part of the planet known as My World by the man who created it: the Master. He owns the place and everyone in it. You do not necessarily have to read “Welcome to My World” before reading “A Scientist in Harem World” since this story takes place on Earth, not on the Master’s private paradise planet.
Here is a brief description of how THE MASTER’S WORLD Universe operates: The Master, a man with futuristic, hyper-tech powers, including the ability to read minds and to exert absolute mind control over others, possesses a hidden planet in another dimension that has been customized into his personal paradise. He is Master of everything and everyone there. The Master populates his World with two types of female sex slaves. The first type is ordinary women from earth. The second type is genetically engineered women he creates himself. From earth, the Master kidnaps and enslaves large numbers of beautiful women and teenaged girls. He brainwashes and reprograms them into ideal sex slaves who perfectly match his personal desires. He makes them want what he wants them to want. The women he synthesizes himself using genetic engineering and biotechnology are pre-programmed from the start to the Master’s exacting specifications.
[Scene: The monitor of your internet-connected computer. Split-screen with a man in the left half and a woman on the right. The man is a disheveled-looking 23-year-old hipster wearing a t-shirt with an image and slogan. He has tousled brown hair and a perennial smirk. The man hosts a very popular podcast about sex and strange doings called Wet. He calls himself Splooge Bob Wet Pants. The woman is slightly older with long blonde hair piled atop her head in a bun. She is very pretty, with big blue eyes and full red lips. She wears owlish round eyeglasses and a tight, low-cut white blouse that reveals her ample cleavage. Her name is Vendela Vit.]
BOB: Hey men and women, boys and girls, gays and straights, trans and nons, and all the ships at sea and in space, it’s your bro from another ho you don’t know, the ever-lovin’ Splooge Bob Wet Pants again. This week I’ve got a really special guest for you. Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve probably already heard of her. Vendela Vit is the former professor of ... uhh, I had it here a moment ago ... umm, ok, we’ll get back to that. I’ll ask her, I suppose. Anyways folks, Prof. Vit got canned from her university job for writing the most fuckin’ unbelievable book I’ve ever come across in my not-so-long but very colorful life. Her book is titled ... uh, I’ve got it right here. Right, yeah. From Feminist to Sex Slave: A Scientist in Harem World. This novel has blown the socks off a lot of people and...
VENDELA: Bob, excuse me, but it’s not a novel. My book is non-fiction.
BOB: Ha! Yeah, that’s what you say. But I mean, darlin’, fact or fiction, this is the dirtiest book I’ve ever read! And you published it under your own name. It cost you your job. Oh, and yeah, what was your job again?
VENDELA: I was Associate Professor of Neurobiology at Stanford University.
BOB: Wow, that’s pretty impressive.
VENDELA: Yes, thank you. I did my undergraduate work at Harvard, got my Master’s at MIT, and then my PhD at Stanford.
BOB: Yes, well (harrumph) [affects a superior tone of voice] I pursued my degree in panty removal and sexual penetration at the school of hard knocks that really rocks.
VENDELA: You see me smiling.
BOB: Hahaha! Yes, I do. And I’ve got to tell you professor, if all my teachers looked like you, I’d have gotten a fucking PhD.
VENDELA: That’s sweet. Thank you, Bob. May I call you Bob? Or do you prefer Mr. Wet Pants?
BOB: Bob will do. You haven’t made me wet my pants yet. But you could, babe, you could. May I call you Babe?
VENDELA: Make that Professor Babe.
BOB: Hahaha! You’ve got the right spirit, girl!
VENDELA: Thank you, Bob.
BOB: OK Professor Babe. You’ve also done some professional modelling, haven’t you?
VENDELA: Yes, I did. It helped pay my way through school. I worked for the Ford Modeling Agency, or as it is known today, Ford Models.
BOB: You are a classic blonde beauty. What’s your ethnic background? Your name is Swiss, isn’t it?
VENDELA: Swedish. My parents emigrated from Sweden to the United States when I was an infant. Both my parents are physicians. My father was a professor of medicine at Johns Hopkins before his retirement. My mother was in private practice.
BOB: How do your parents feel about your change of career from professor of science to controversial writer?
VENDELA: They are very supportive. They think I’m crazy, but they love me anyway.
BOB: So let’s talk about your novel...
VENDELA: Nuh-uh-uh! I warned you already, Bob. It’s not a novel. My book is non-fiction. It happened to me.
BOB: Really? You expect us to believe that you got picked up by a flying saucer and...
VENDELA: What? Bob, did you even read the fuckin’ book?!
BOB: I—yeah, well—parts of it. The pages my friend marked on his Kindle.
VENDELA: Geez, Bob, at least do me the courtesy of buying a copy and reading it. Now I’m hurt. [Crosses her arms, pouts, and tilts head down.]
BOB: I’m sorry Vendela. Prof. Vit. Prof. Babe? Look, we kinda got off on the wrong foot. My fault. Totally my fault.
VENDELA: [Gives a half-smile with the left side of her mouth and raises her eyebrows.] Apology accepted. Maybe you should just let me summarize my book in outline form. Then we can talk about it.
BOB: Deal! Go right ahead.
VENDELA: OK. I was kidnapped. Not by some alien in a UFO. By a man who calls himself the Master. He took me to his planet using some sort of technology that I can only compare to a Star Trek transporter. One moment I was on earth, and the next I was on his planet. It’s ... it’s in another dimension or parallel universe, I think, based on what I saw and what he told me. I can’t vouch for that. What I can vouch for is what happened there and what happened to me. The Master turned me from a feminist with a jaundiced view of men into his loyal, loving, eager sex slave. He became my Master. I became his slave. He IS my Master, still. He accepted me into his harem and I lived there for over two years. I did whatever Master told me, including sex acts I had never, ever imagined myself doing. Totally submissive acts of a sex slave. Nothing was too dirty or degrading. Nothing was out of bounds.
BOB: Oh, yeah! Those were the parts I read. Wow-wee! Some of that stuff I’d never even seen in porn!
VENDELA: Yes, well, I wasn’t too familiar with porn myself before I became the Master’s sex slave. His tastes are rather ... extreme. I don’t think I could have survived some of those sex acts if I had done them on earth. The Master has powers and advanced biotechnology that made dangerous sex safe on his planet.
BOB: I know! That’s what blows my mind! That’s what makes it hard for me to believe that any of that happened. No offense.
VENDELA: None taken.
BOB: A lot of people have been very upset by what you wrote. They say your story contradicts itself. They say that you had a mental breakdown and fantasized the whole thing. They say that you’re harming yourself and the cause of women’s liberation. Care to respond to any of that?
VENDELA: They’re wrong. My story is self-consistent. It is an honest report of my experiences. I spent over two years in my Master’s harem, living as his sex slave, and I’ve never been happier in my life. It did me no harm. Nor did my Master harm me. He liberated me to be a true woman. A true woman is committed to one man. She serves him with everything she’s got. I am a true woman now, thanks to him. He is a true man.
BOB: Uhhh. OK. Let me get specific. I’m looking here at an article about you from the online mag Viceroy. It was written by Gillie Gutwrought. She has a long list of contradictions in your story. You said you were gone for two years, but you were only away from your job for a long weekend.
VENDELA: Yes, that’s correct. As I told you, the Master’s world is in another dimension or parallel universe. The technology the Master used to transport me to his world included the capacity to move me through both space and time. It was time travel as well as space travel. He took me between here and there, and then brought me back to a point in time shortly after I’d left. Master allowed me to live on his world for two-plus years, and returned me to earth after only a few days had passed here. He is the Master of space and time.
BOB: Where were you supposed to be on earth for those few days?
VENDELA: I had rented a cabin in the mountains for a four day weekend. I wanted some privacy, peace, and quiet while I tried to complete the writing of a scientific paper.
BOB: What was your paper about?
VENDELA: The title is “Neural Correlates of Conscious Choice under Libet-Constrained Conditional Permutations.”
BOB: What does that mean in English?
VENDELA: It means your capacity for making conscious, free will choices is not as great as you think it is.
BOB: Well, I don’t know about that. I mean, I have an opinion, but I don’t think the audience cares. Let’s get back to your book.
BOB: You came back from your weekend away and immediately began writing your book. Your colleagues say you had changed. You became obsessive about writing. Your friends say that you barely talked to them. Many thought that you’d become mentally ill.
VENDELA: I was a bit obsessive. But I was not mentally ill. I had never been more sane in my life.
BOB: They also said that you had changed physically. They said you had gotten a boob job.
VENDELA: Hahaha! My breasts are definitely bigger than they used to be. But I did not get a conventional breast augmentation. No implants or silicone injections.
BOB: Hmm. They certainly look impressive. Of course, I can’t tell if you’ve got implants unless I feel your knockers myself. All in the interest of science, you understand.
VENDELA: Of course. I am a firm believer in the scientific method of empirical research and testing. Hands on.
BOB: I couldn’t agree more! I’d love to reach right through this web cam and grab your tits. For science.
VENDELA: I’m sure you would. All for the sake of science.
BOB: Prof. Babe, your book reads like extreme porn. Not the gentle female porn with erotic romance. Hardcore men’s porn. You were used, abused, and treated as if your body only existed for your Master to exploit. You know, that’s kinda hot! And it wasn’t just you. There was, like, a dozen other women.
VENDELA: Oh, far more than that, Bob. When I got there the Master already had nearly 250 sex slaves in his harem. By the time I left two years later, he had 300.
BOB: 300 Spartans! Or 300 spunk harlots.
VENDELA: Haha! That’s pretty funny. I like your sense of humor. I’ve come to enjoy being exploited by men.
BOB: Ohhh, Prof. Babe. Now my pants are wet.
VENDELA: Poor Bob. You wasted all that good sperm without giving me a taste?
BOB: [Clutches chest.] Doctor! I need an emergency Viagra treatment!
VENDELA: Don’t worry, Bob. I’m sure there’s more where that came from.
BOB: Don’t you know it, Babe!
VENDELA: When I lived in my Master’s Harem World, he was the only man on the planet. I didn’t mind at all. I love him totally. Worship him, in fact. ‘Still do. I have no interest in other men, except when he orders me to. When he sent me back here, he gave me a Mission: Bring sexual enlightenment to the women of earth, and sexual pleasure to the men.
BOB: Now you’re talkin’ my language!
VENDELA: When Master kidnapped me, I was a fool; a feminist fool. My conceptions about men and women were completely askew from reality. It’s kind of funny, because even before Master took me, I’d already been having doubts about the type of feminism that was all around me in academia. It didn’t fit with any model of evolution that I knew of. And it certainly did not improve my life as a woman. My relations with men were fraught with difficulties that didn’t need to be there. I even had a brief relationship with a woman. [Snorts derisively.] What a mistake that was. I was a little fool, I was! I did it for ideological reason. Lesbian sex is mediocre. There was no attraction, really. But that’s not to say I am against having sex with other women. I have no interest in it. But when Master commands me to do it, I do it with complete dedication. To please him. To please the man I love, worship, and adore. I don’t care about having sex with women. But I would do anything for my Master. I belong to him. He owns me: heart and mind, and body and soul.
BOB: [Takes a deep breath and blows it out.] I envy him! What does this guy have that I don’t?
VENDELA: You mean besides the power to read my mind, control me with his mind, and make me want whatever he wants me to want? Nothing, I suppose. Except his own pleasure planet where everyone enjoys a life of art, leisure, sensual pleasure, and endless sex in idyllic surroundings. Plus his ability to give me an orgasm just by looking at me.
BOB: Uhh ... yeah. I ain’t got that.
VENDELA: Poor dear. Master sent me here to help men like you get a little taste of what he enjoys all day, every day.
BOB: Yeah, about that, Prof. Babe. I want to ask you about all these stories I hear about you seeking out Men’s Rights Activists and giving them the best sex of their lives. True or not true?
VENDELA: True, Bob. I told you I was on a Mission from Master. He told me to first seek out the men who had been hurt most by feminists like my former self. He wanted me to show them what a real woman does to please a man.
BOB: Help! Show me, please!
VENDELA: I will, Bob. Promise. But not while we’re on the internet. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you when we get intimate.
BOB: [Flustered look and waving hands.] Prof. Babe, you name the time and place, and I’ll be there.
BOB: [Smiles and claps hands.] You drive a hard bargain. But I accept.
VENDELA: Hahaha! Very good, Bob. You don’t yet know what I can do for a man. But I promise you this: I will do anything you want me to do, except for one thing: I will not leave my Master. He still owns me, body and soul.
BOB: That’s ok. Just so long as he lets me rent you for a while.
VENDELA: He has no problem with that!
BOB: Getting back to your book. You did everything for your Master: oral, vaginal, anal, ass-to-mouth, watersports, scat, bisexual stuff. Am I forgetting anything?
VENDELA: Lactation. He induced lactation in my breasts and I gave him my milk. He nursed at my breasts during sex. And any time he wanted to, really.
BOB: This is making me thirsty!
VENDELA: Hahaha! Sweetheart, I’m afraid I dried up since coming back to earth. Master promised to make me lactate again when I go back. I can’t wait!
BOB: How long will you be among us mere mortals?
VENDELA: I don’t know. Master will tell me when he’s ready to take me back.
BOB: Publishing your book got you fired. Some people said it was because of the sex with underage girls. How young were they?
VENDELA: Age is a relative concept. Biologically, the youngest girls were 14-years-old. Master could have made them any age he wanted. He created most of his female property synthetically using a type of biotechnology that, frankly, as a scientist, I’m still struggling to understand. Here on earth right how our science has no idea how to do what he does every day on his planet. He creates women from scratch according to his specifications. He programs them to think, and feel, and do whatever he wants them to. Plus others things he does with women from earth like me.
BOB: What other things?