Angela, Countess Horsham surveyed her domestic staff with satisfaction. On her left were her employees. There was her butler, Karen Scott, a lifelong friend and confidante who ran her household with a rod of iron; her secretary, Jill Armstrong, another friend from her schooldays who was also extremely efficient, and Marion Chambers, her head gardener who had come very well recommended.
But on her right was her small army of males…
In this new age, there are no men on Earth. Men had been abolished with the world revolution that had taken place on the 1st January, 2030. It had been a bloodless coup that had taken men by surprise. Its leaders had been plotting for years to infiltrate the various parliaments and legislatures around the world and just before the new year, they pounced, moving motions of no-confidence in the government (of whichever persuasion) and formed a government of women who proceeded to enact legislation that not only disenfranchised, but actually disestablished men in every respect: political, economic and social.
Over the next years, men were removed from all positions of power and authority and relegated to labouring or basic clerical jobs, or employed as menial domestics – and all of it on a pittance.
And then there were the male slaves. Males convicted of any crime at all were automatically enslaved for life. And those who couldn’t pay their debts similarly lost their freedom.
And to underline this new status, male slaves were no longer permitted clothing of any kind. They were also denuded of facial and body hair. This was partly to shame them further but also because women decided that nude male bodies looked much nicer than hairy ones.
As the months passed and males found themselves unable to survive as free males on the small wages determined for them, they all gradually lost their freedom as well and as a result, the male population became items of property, owned by women.
The systems of government and social structure in each nation around the world was left largely intact, thus in the UK, only a queen could reign; noble titles passed from mother to eldest daughter as did property. Males could not own anything and must be under the control of a woman.
Marriage as it had existed was abolished. A woman might take a male as her companion but could also discard him at any time of her choosing. More and more, they didn’t bother, merely using a favoured male employee (or later, one of her slaves) for pleasure – and when they finally decided to bear their own daughter or daughters, chose the sire with great care.
The resulting foetus was then checked and if male, was converted to female (or if it didn’t bode well, terminated). Most women bore two girl children: an ‘heir and a spare’ as the saying goes.
Males were to be created in factories, the eggs selected and harvested from the best females in the land and artificially joined to a sperm cell in an in vitro environment and carefully monitored and modified to produce physically perfect, tame, hard-working animals that would all be slaves and so in twenty or thirty years, any remaining free males would have disappeared entirely.
These slaves would be raised in huge glass containers in an artificial amniotic fluid that, together with the nutritional artificial blood, and carefully developed hormones, would accelerate the growth process to a point that an apparent age of eighteen years could be achieved in twelve months.
And during this time, both the physical body and the developing brain was monitored and nurtured, the brain being also fed electronically with what information was determined as being within the developing male’s capabilities and his future role – and by this, I mean what women wished from him, not what his actual potential might have been.
Males were thus bred to be docile and hard-working but certainly not leaders or rebels.
When this process was complete, the glass tank was emptied and the male shocked into breathing normally. His muscles had been artificially developed and exercised during the year of accelerated growth and he was now a perfect specimen, physically handsome and athletically muscular and trained in whatever role had been decided upon for him.
He was then transferred to the sales room and put on display for potential buyers. Each male thus produced was different. Producing clones or look-alikes would not have given people (read women) of different likes and dislikes, any choice and so women thronged through the various sales rooms at all hours of the day seeking out their perfect gardener, footman, chauffeur and the like.
The normal laws of supply and demand were still operative in this new society and so the slaves were auctioned each Saturday. If a slave failed to sell after eight weeks, he was put down and converted to blood and bone.
And so I now return to the Countess Horsham and her household.
As I said, she surveyed her slaves with satisfaction. Each was standing in the standard pose any male slave is required to adopt when coming into the presence of a woman: the ‘Position of Inspection’. It is achieved by the male placing his feet exactly a half-metre apart, touching his fingertips together up behind his neck and pulling his elbows as far back as he can. He must then fix his gaze on something in the distance and not vary it for even a second unless ordered to do so. And finally, he must then flex and relax every muscle over which he has control in a pattern that shows off his biceps, pectoral, abdominal, buttocks, thighs and calves to best advantage – and continue with this display until ordered to cease.
And what is more, he must do it in time with his fellows. Part of their in vitro training included a metronome-like beat that was indelibly etched into every new male’s brain as was the pattern of muscle display so that every single slave in the line down her audience room (and every similar room all over the world) performed a synchronised flexing and relaxing that showed off their so perfect bodies to a T.
It has been said that the huge glass cells in which they were bred and trained produced perfect specimens (failures were simply terminated). But once freed from them and activated, it is up to their owners to maintain that perfection by dint of hard work and/or formal exercise.
Every great house therefore had a well-equipped gymnasium that actually trains them in gymnastics. It has long been recognised that this activity alone, and only excepting male ballet dancing, comes anywhere near keeping the human figure in perfect shape and form.
Smaller households can buy or rent a machine (many shared them between half a dozen or so houses) that look like an upright coffin and when the slave is installed into it and the door closed on his naked body and activated, sends little electric shocks to destinations all over it that exercises them almost as well as gymnastics.
It’s the ‘almost’ that counts, though, and is why the great houses prefer true gymnastics as their slaves always have that little edge on those maintained by the machines. And this is particularly true of the slaves at Horsham. Right now, each of the two dozen or so of them stood there in fear. Not that their faces reflected it. A slave is required to maintain a perfectly neutral expression at all times unless his current situation requires a different expression, thus if he is called upon to ‘pleasure’ a lady, he must smile and show his delight at being chosen for this task, no matter what he really feels about it. Or if he is being punished, he may scream and writhe in his pain.
Right now, though, each of them stands there, waiting in a well-hidden terror to hear if he is the reason for this assembly. Normally, Angela leaves each such daily meeting to Karen who uses them to allocate work duties and the like. When Angela presides herself, every slave knows that at least one of them is in for one of her horrible punishments.
If Karen has detected slovenly work or a lack-lustre degree of effort, she usually punishes the guilty slave with a half-dozen cuts of the cane to his naked buttocks. But if one of them has displeased their owner, then look out! And unlike Karen, who might overlook a very small misdemeanour, the Mistress always applies her punishments at full measure so that the slave (and every one of his companions) is well aware that she demands only their total effort and fullest ability for every second of every minute of every one of the fifteen hours of labour she demands of them daily.
The cane is bad enough. It has been used for centuries as an instrument of correction and leaves a nasty welt after each stroke, and always results in a bruising of the gluteal muscles that lasts for days.
But Mistress favours even worse instruments of punishment. One of her favourites is her prodder. These items have been developed from the cattle prodders used last century to goad recalcitrant beasts into movement and comprise a torch-like body that contains the batteries and the electronic works, but instead of the globe and reflector found on a torch, there are two brass nubs that act as electrodes and when charged, can fire a painful shock to the beast’s flank.
The newer models designed for human slaves are very much smaller than the originals and use the very latest in batteries that are not only so much smaller-scaled but very much more powerful. Two of them, of the size of an old ‘AA’ cell, and contained in the pistol-grip handle, will power a few hundred doses of the horrible shocks and are easily recharged by placing the weapon into its charger base for an hour a day.
And unlike the original cattle prodders which needed a few seconds after a discharge to recharge the capacitors into which the high-voltage shock is stored, the new models designed for slaves, deliver a continuous, pulse-like shock that continues as long as the trigger is activated.
The business end slides easily in and out of the ‘barrel’ at the touch of a button and ends in a carving-fork-like arrangement of ultra-sharp tines that really penetrate the slave’s flesh and muscles and may even result in the death of the recipient if the shock is over-prolonged.
The whole instrument is shaped like a small automatic handgun and she keeps it in a holster on her belt.
It was there now.
She sat there, eyeing off the line of perfect, naked and nude slaves grimly, well aware they were all scared witless of her coming pronouncement as to the guilty party but all nevertheless continued on with the flexing and relaxing of his muscles in time with his fellows for each well knew she would punish brutally any of them who missed a beat.
Eventually she rose and her lithe and so athletic body reflected her aim to keep it in perfect shape. Why? Because of all her pursuits (and there were many), sex was the most important to her and she well knew that good sex requires a body honed and toned as well as the fastest sprinter or marathon runner and to this end, she spent at least two hours a day in her gymnasium exercising with Karen who is a near champion gymnast herself.
These days, female gymnastics now mirrors that practised by males and Karen excelled on the parallel and high bars, the roman rings and the pommel and vaulting horses and while her friend and employer wasn’t as skilled as she was, Angela was not too bad herself.
As she rose from her throne-like chair on the dais at the end of the Assembly Hall, as she had dubbed it and, dressed in her usual form-fitting white shirt and jodhpurs, and the highly polished riding boots, complete with spurs, she sent waves of terror up and down the line of naked male slaves to which she now directed her steps, stopping at each one to inspect him minutely.
Now that she was standing facing him, she ordered him to look her in the eye and each of them in turn would swear she could fathom the very bottom of their souls (if they had known what a soul was for they were certainly not taught about them).
She reached out and stroked a cheek or a neck; gripped a shoulder or biceps muscle, tweaked a nipple or punched the fabulous array of abdominal muscles. She might order him to turn around and bend over and spread his buttocks to allow an anal inspection, or she might cup his balls and fondle his cock.
If the latter, he must not on any account allow it to erect – unless and until she ordered it, in which case, he must achieve it instantly. Mostly, she said nothing to him but if she asked a question, he must answer it briefly, clearly and honestly.
None of them knew for sure if he was her intended target although some might have felt a twinge of guilt about something they had or had not done yesterday. None, except for Amos, that is. He had been her bed-buck last night and while he had delivered his usual extraordinary sexual skill to her so beautiful and energetic body, he had sensed she was unsettled about something and had a couple of stabs of terror that she might blame her malaise on him.
He knew he had performed well. His body had been ‘designed’ and then developed in the tank to present as the perfect fucking machine. He is black, in a parody of the myth that black men are the best lovers. He is tall and very muscular without it being overdone. His cock is twenty-five centimetres long and very thick and his balls are as big as duck eggs and can deliver what feels like litres of his sperm. And what is more, he is capable of multiple orgasms, one after the other.
All of this was bred and trained into him by genetic selection and then manipulation, followed by intense sexual training while his magnificent body was developing in the tank.
Accordingly, she paid a small fortune for him and up until now had been very pleased with his performance in her bed. During the day, she used him as her favourite steed, riding his broad shoulders bare-back and wearing a special skirt (and nothing underneath) that allowed her thighs, vulva and buttocks direct contact with his muscular neck, shoulders and back.
Without being proud of it, he had hoped he was continuing to please her by running her at a gallop for hours at a time and then, at night, delivering top-class sex. But last night there had been that tiny uncertainty and so when she reached his place in the line eventually, he wasn’t surprised to see the flicker of anger in her eyes as she directed him to look at her.
“Yes, Amos, it is you who have displeased me… Karen, you may dismiss the company, then join me. I will be taking this incompetent bed-buck for punishment…”
“Yes, ma’am.” Her friend was always formal with her in the presence of the slaves or other servants and proceeded to do just that, then, as the others preceded them, she joined her boss in heading towards the punishment suite.