Fem/Male: Societal Paradigm Change Pt. 03

Just a reminder this story is only fantasy, it is not intended to be realistic, so "that could not happen" comments are not necessary. The story focuses on an "ultimate" orgasm denial world in which men and women swap places; men find it VERY difficult to attain orgasm, where women have to worry about firing off too soon. If this does not appeal to you, save your time. If it might, please leave a comment and/or a vote. Thanks.

The world changes so fast these days, most of us cannot keep up. As detailed in part one of this story, the paradigm between women and men has been changing for the better for over a century, sometimes slowly, sometimes overnight, as when women finally got the right to vote.

Another example of overnight change was when a group of activists; scientists, sociologists, politicians and billionaires, came to the conclusion that broad social change would fall into place like dominoes if they could accomplish one thing. One thing which few understood was a biological underpinning of the "patriarchy." If it could be changed, a "matriarchy" would result almost by default.

The scientists involved developed a chemical which would affect the change. The others worked together on a clandestine delivery system...food, water sources, beer.

And almost overnight, the gender centric ability to reach orgasm reversed. Men needed greater and more focused attention to "finish." Women were able to cum almost at will.

Men had permanent, quite safe, erections. The erections were safe because tumescence no longer necessarily meant arousal. Fully inflated was the new normal. No more guessing for women. No more "I'm a grow-er, not a show-er." Men with less than five inches became nearly celibate. Men with eight or more, or impressive girth, soon found out what sexual harassment meant; what attractive women had experienced for all of history.

Keep in mind there were still variances even among the genders. In the past, a highly sexed woman, who was in tune to her body, could achieve orgasm fairly easily, and a woman who was the opposite struggled, and needed a caring, talented lover to help her experience ecstasy. Some men were premature ejaculators, some men had incredible stamina.

The same in reverse was true after the change. Some men could still manage to orgasm relatively easily, although most all took "some work." Almost all women could experience mind-blowing and frequent orgasms easily. Some who had previously been highly sexed in the first place, now found themselves with a "hair trigger."

Women kept the ability to have multiple orgasms, much to the relief of all. Had women become "one and done" as men had been, the "new men" would have been almost barren since it took much more effort to finish them.

It had been six months since the change had occurred almost overnight.

We have told the partial story of some of the men who were fortunate enough to be well endowed. Their's was not necessarily an easy lot. Yet it was better than the experiences of men who were not so blessed.

Now we see how life had changed for a couple of these men, and the women around them.

Shelton J. Williams was a mid level executive in a successful international corporation. Shelton had never been one of the sharpest tools in the toolbox. He was not ignorant, just not quick witted. He could not easily pronounce the word nepotism. But he had most certainly been "privileged" by the practice. His daddy and his daddy's daddy had succeeded in the company so he was a "legacy." As his secretary, Lizette Wise often said, "it didn't matter that he was dumber than a box of rocks."

Eight months ago, Liz had thought this very thing as she knelt beside Mr. Williams' desk, pretending to gag on his minuscule phallus until he groaned and spasmed, ejaculating down her throat. Moments later he had handed her a stack of reports he was supposed to complete. He could barely comprehend them, and depended on Liz to do the work. "I need those by end of day." She sighed inwardly. In the five minutes she had been able to drag out the blowjob, she had already made any calculations needed for the reports in her head. Now she only needed to type it up.

"Mr. Williams" met his fellow supervisor, Mark Adams, in the lobby and they went to lunch, which was followed by a round of golf.

Mark Adams had come by his supervisory position in much the same way. His father had been a boss. Except his father had worked on the docks as a kid before becoming a boss. His father had respected his mother and his sisters. And he had taught this deference of the fairer sex to his kids, Mark included.

So, before the change, Mark had treated HIS secretary, Julianne Devore, with a modicum of respect. Which is to say, he brought HER coffee in the morning, asked for her opinion, and never would have dreamed of demanding sex from her. Jesus...she was someone's daughter...someone's sister.

When the change had occurred, both men had been found wanting. The bulge of permanent erection in Mark's trousers dwarfed the one in Shelton's, but it was still less than five inches. Such diminutive men just had nothing women were interested in sexually.

Mark had been competent at his job. He had studied hard, did his own work, and would never ask a subordinate to do something he would not do himself.

Yet the change affected upper management quickly. The CEO, the board of directors, much of upper management, had already been female. Most of the males in the corporate office were quickly pushed out or, if they were well endowed, kept around for their, umm, abilities.

Upper management soon outlined a corporate restructure for the benefit of the company. All managers were to be selected on the basis of their abilities. Interestingly, that just happened to result in most supervisory positions, not all, but the vast majority, being in female hands. The women on the promotion boards, behind closed doors and amongst themselves, found anyone with a penis lacking. "All these boys have ever thought about...or with...is their dicks. Now that they have so much trouble getting off, they are just too emotional. Most don't have the where-with-all to make important decisions."

So it was that Shelton and Mark found themselves "reassigned" to the secretarial pool in the basement of corporate headquarters. Their pay was not reduced, but they were no longer trusted to supervise. In this way, the company attorneys assured management the riff raff could not file suit for having been demoted.

Two months after the change, a couple dozen former managers found themselves reporting to the pool, which was supervised by a large woman in a security guard's uniform. Greta had a flat top haircut, bulging biceps, and a dour countenance which let her charges know to obey without a word being spoken.

On that first day Shelton had meandered in about 9 AM, which had been his practice as a boss. Greta glared at him for being late.

The room was small. There were two wooden benches, against two of the walls. A third wall had a set of lockers. Both benches and the fourth wall were lined with eye bolts. Greta's desk sat in the middle of the room.

The two benches were already occupied by other men. Shelton was aghast...they were all naked. Several of them were playing games on their phones or filling out paperwork on clipboards.

Greta greeted him with a bored look, "Strip off your clothes, place them in a locker, then report back to me."

"Wh-why?"

She stared back at him without speaking until he did as he was told.

When he returned, his erection barely visible beneath his large belly, Greta picked up a set of handcuffs from a hook on the side of her desk which held several pairs. She stood and approached him.

Shelton was shocked when she unceremoniously lifted his testicles and quickly fastened one half of the metal handcuffs behind them, ratcheting it down tight so that his penis and testicles could not slip out. Then she used the other cuff to pull him to the wall where the eyebolts were.

"You get here late, you end up standing for the day. We only have so many seats."

She pushed his back against the wall and quickly fastened the other cuff to the eyebolt, securing him to the wall.

She picked up a clipboard from her desk and handed it to him. "Fill this out so managers will know what skills you have." She glanced down at his crotch, "We know what skill you DON'T have."

Shelton realized now that all of the men were cuffed to the benches by their balls, their erections readily apparent. All were "small men" like him.

He wanted to cry, but managed to maintain his composure, for the moment. He began completing the form to distract himself. It was mostly check boxes for clerical skills. Could he type? How many words per minute? There was a list of various computer programs to determine his familiarity with them.

The last section shocked him. He had always taken sexual advantage of his female employees, but it had been an "open secret." Everyone knew it was done, but it was not discussed. Except for when it was "just the guys" and they were comparing the willingness and skills of the various "chicks" or "bitches."

Here in black and white, presumably to be distributed and filed, was a questionnaire asking whether he had ever performed cunnilingus or analingus, or fellatio, and his skill level for each. Fellatio?!

He thought it would be stupid to say anything else other than "yes" and to rate himself a ten. So he did so.

Then he read the last paragraph, just above a place for his signature.

"The employee attests to the accuracy of the above statements. Any deception or untruthfulness will be disciplined with loss of pay, corporal punishment or termination."

He hesitated, then went back and scratched out his answers in the last section, replacing them with "no." He had never found it necessary to go down on a woman. He was a taker, not a giver.

"Hey...lady." He held the clipboard out for the security guard. She stood before him and reviewed it.

Without even looking him in the eyes, she spoke patiently, "I see you contemplated lying to women about your abilities. That is not a good start, mister."

She calmly reached down and took a short leather strap from her gun-belt, which he had not detected before. Again without saying anything or looking up, she suddenly lashed out, lashing his tumescent manhood five times with the strap. A sixth strike drove upward into his constrained testicles.

He cried out, groaned and would have doubled over and fallen to the floor were he not secured to the wall by his balls.

Greta returned to her desk and sat. The lesson was implied. Words from her were not necessary.

The other men, including Mark, who had arrived early, looked on aghast as Shelton wept quietly, trying to remain standing to prevent the tug on his manhood from the cuffs.

Greta passed the time by looking over the forms the men had completed.

She read one and was surprised to see the man supposedly was familiar with many of the computer programs necessary for the company. She believed this to be true because when she got to the last section the answers seemed without guile. Cunnilingus? Yes. Skill level? Rather than rate himself, the man had written in, "I don't know, but I really enjoy it." Analingus? Yes. Skill level? IDK. Fellatio? No.

She looked at the name at the top of the form and looked over to regard Mark. Hmmm.

The next weeks were really odd for the men in the secretarial pool. If they had marked down that they were lacking in knowledge in a program such as "Word" or a graphics app, they would be collected and taken to a class to educate them...still nude. They became intimately familiar with the short leather straps when they were not paying proper attention.

Not surprisingly for others...but surprisingly to them, they found that classes in cunnilingus, analingus, and most shockingly, fellatio were included.

The security guards were in charge of this instruction, a sort of benefit for such boring duty. So the men would be uncuffed occasionally during the day and beckoned to perform for Greta, or Keisha, or Mary, or Delbert, whoever was on duty, at the desk in the middle of the room while the others watched and gained experience by witnessing others lick pussy or suck dick. Until it was their turn.

Each night they were released to go home. Each morning they returned and their manhood was cuffed to the bench or the wall. Shelton tried hard to make it on time, but almost always ended up standing.

About the fifth month, Managers began to come to the room looking for secretarial help, now that some training had occurred.

Julianne arrived and quickly chose Mark and one other man for her staff.

A few days later, Liz showed up and chose Shelton and two other men...knowing Shelton would be pretty close to worthless. The entire time she worked for him, he had been lost and depended on his employees to do their work and his work.

Shelton sat in his cubicle. He had found a box there containing his personal items. His sports memorabilia, his stapler, his prints which had hung in his office, were all intact. The expensive bottle of whiskey he had kept in his desk had been in the box, but it was empty.

He hit print on his computer, then walked to the other end of the large cubicle farm to pick up the thirty page report from the communal printer.

He walked back to the other end of the floor, past his cubicle to what had been his office.

He leaned in the open door, his hand resting on the door jamb. "Liz..."

She sat at a new mahogany desk near the window in the now beautifully decorated office. Another woman sat on the other side of the desk, talking.

Lizette Wise glared at him. He hesitated, "I'm sorry, I mean Ms. Wise..."

"Don't you fucking know to knock?"

"I'm sorry." He stammered.

"Well? Knock, dumbass."

He knocked on the door jamb.

"You may enter."

He did so, and began again, "Ms. Wise, I have the..."

"Shut the fuck up! Can you not see we are talking? Never interrupt a woman. Stand there until you are spoken to."

He stood looking down at his feet for twenty minutes until the other woman stood and left the office.

Lizette looked at him, "What?"

He spoke softly, "Ms. Wise, I have that report for your review."

She stood and walked around the desk, extending her hand for the sheaf of papers. He handed them to her and began to leave hastily.

"Wait."

Lizette loosened her pant suit pants and let them drop to her ankles, revealing she had worn no panties. She turned around, leaning over her desk and retrieving a red felt tip pen from her one of her drawers. Her bountiful buttocks was on display and his long unrequited penis throbbed in his pants.

"It will take me awhile to correct this report. While I read it, Shelly, get over here and kiss my ass."

He hesitated. She had been very vindictive in her payback for his "crimes" before their role reversal. Her use of "Shelly" as short for Shelton was always spoken to make sure everyone knew she was using the effeminate version. Everyone in the office now referred to him as Shelly. Many actually thought that was his name, or that he was wanting a change.

He took too long, "Now, Shelly. Or do you need correction?"

Correction would mean a beating. Probably at Greta's strong hand.

He quickly moved behind her, dropped to his knees, and began kissing the globes of her cheeks.

After several minutes of this, she arched her back, which spread her cheeks and exposed her bud. "Get your tongue in there, Shelly. Make it good."

It occurred to him the office door was still standing open.

"Don't piss me off, you little bitch."

He quickly began caressing her asshole with his tongue, lubricating it before inserting his tongue into it and thrusting. He had become quite practiced at this in the last couple of weeks.

"Mmm, that's better."

Another assistant entered and stood next to Liz discussing something. Shelly knew not to stop. This was so fucking erotic and humiliating. His cock pulsed and leaked pre-cum. He longed for the days when something like this would have caused him to cum in his pants. Now, after the change, it took a great deal of effort for him to attain an orgasm. He was continuously aroused, but hadn't cum in months. He thought he might just go insane.

After nearly an hour of tonguing Liz's asshole, she stood. She handed the report down to him and he saw it was covered in red marks.

"Stand up now Shelly. I swear, if you don't learn to type properly, you're going back to the pool."

When he stood, she looked at his crotch in disgust, "For crying out loud, Shelly, you've messed your pants again."

There was an obvious stain on his trousers. He whined, "I'm sorry, ma'am. It's just been so long since I've gotten off..."

She held up her hand to silence him, "I really don't care. Jack off on the weekend or something. You know the rule."

He hung his head. This was so degrading.

"Strip off those clothes, then go downstairs and requisition an adult diaper so you don't dribble jizz all over the office."

He nodded and turned to leave.

"Now."

"What, right here?"

She glared at him. So he slowly removed all of his clothes, his pinkish flesh bright beneath the lights. His hard, purple little penis was at least more visible. He had been on a mandatory work out regimen and his belly was shrinking.

She shook her head, looking at his diminutive manhood. "My word. You poor little bitch. Get out. I want that report corrected by end of day."

His clothes draped over one arm, the papers in the other hand, he had no way to hide his shame as he walked back to his cubicle. Laying everything down there, he made his way to the elevator bank, then down the seven floors to supply.

When he got there, Agnes was shaking her head, "Again, Shelly? You're not going to have a check left buying all these diapers."

Mark, meanwhile, was getting used to a similar, yet much different work experience.

His old office was now occupied by his former administrative assistant, Julianne Devore. Mark had a cubicle immediately outside her office. He was not an administrative assistant, the new bosses simply called him and the others secretaries.

When the office had been Mark's, he had hung a large print on the wall opposite his desk. The print was a Charles M. Russell, a tranquil mountain scene from before the country had been settled. When he had free time, he would sit and gaze quietly at the valleys and canyons, which were juxtaposed with those of the city scape outside the window. One stressed him out, one brought him peace.

Julianne kept the print. In the very place he'd had it, and for the same reason.

She wore a low-cut blouse and a short skirt, but now her high heels were replaced with athletic shoes. They did not lift her ass, but they were much more comfortable. She stood in the doorway of her office.

"Mark, step in here. I need you to take some dictation."

"Yes, Ms. Devore." He picked up a legal pad and a pen.

The men and women in the cubicles within earshot and sight all shared knowing glances or smirks, and a couple of short laughs. Taking dictation meant the same thing it always had. Mark seemed to be Ms. Devore's favorite pussy licker. Some of the other women wanted to sample his talents to find out why, but did not want to piss off the boss.

When he entered the office, she said, "Close the door behind you."

When he reached her desk, she had taken her seat in his old high dollar office chair. She gestured for him to pull up a chair on the same side of the desk as her.

She then spun to the credenza behind her, slid open a door, and removed a chess board, which had a game that was obviously in progress. She sat it on the desk between them, "If I remember correctly, it's your turn."