Summer in the Gynarchic Empire

Part 2 - The Beach

The next morning, Arabella ate breakfast while she sat on my face in bed. She thrust herself down into my tongue and her warm, wet pussy almost covered my airways completely. I was in heaven, sucking in breath that tasted of her and giving her all the pleasure she desired. She took her orgasm then stayed in position while I cleaned her off.

We showered together, massaging and kissing each other. I was made to clean her from top to bottom, sparing no effort, then she did the same thing to me. It felt different when she did it, like she was polishing me up to put me on display, but I liked the way she turned me this way and that, had me spread for her, and so on.

After our shower she threw me a pair of black satin shorts to wear, then gave me a pair of sandals to go with them. We packed a few towels and some changes of clothes - for her - then we left the house and walked to the monorail. That whisked us to a beach about twenty miles from her home, where we got off.

To get to the particular beach we were going to, we had to pass through a series of walls that obscured the view from outside. Halfway through, I felt my collar buzz and Arabella nodded. She led the way until we got to the other side of the winding corridor that led between the fences.

We emerged onto the beach itself - it was a huge expanse of sand and sea, running for at least a mile, and I could see why it had to be physically separated from the family-friendly areas. Everywhere there were naked male slaves and female owners, playing together, laying together, making love, playing volleyball, swimming, kissing and taking pleasure.

"Get naked," said Arabella.

"Erm. Oh, er, yes, Mistress," I replied..

I looked around first to see if anyone was paying attention to us - to me - and that was a mistake. Mistress tutted and shook her head. She strode up to me and yanked down my shorts, then ripped off my sandals and put them in her bag. When she stood up again, she looked me in the eye and then laughed.

"My bad, slave, my bad. I'm used to males who've been properly conditioned for immediate obedience. I forget you're not from here, you see. You need to get in a properly submissive frame of mind for me now, so drop to your hands and knees and crawl after me. My friends are waiting for us halfway along the beach, so that should be a good amount of time for you to get in the spirit of things."

"Yes, Mistress!"

We only travelled a few hundred metres, but it taught me something about being a slave all the same. I looked up at Arabella and watched her small bottom bounce in the white bikini bottoms she wore. Her red hair swayed in the breeze coming off the sea. Sunlight seemed to dance in the strands of her hair, and she captivated me with her radiance.

The crawl gave me some time to look around the beach. Everywhere naked male slaves served female owners. Many slaves ran and sported with their owners, who came in all shapes, sizes and skin tones. There was no less variety in the slaves, who ranged from stick thin to portly and rotund. Here and there were some pet or pony-slaves, but the beach was dominated by everyday humans on two feet.

"Hi girls!" squealed Arabella when we finally reached her friends.

Seven of her friends waited there for her: two black girls in red bikinis, a white girl wearing a blue one-piece swimsuit, and three asian girls who wore a mix of polka dots and nothing at all. Arabella hugged each of them in turn, and they all squealed and yelled to see her: clearly it had been too long since their last get together.

"Are you going to let us inspect the goods?" asked Miri, an asian girl who wore a polka dot bikini.

"Go right ahead. Gregory, stand up, legs apart, hands on head, and let my friends see what I own."

Their own slaves - one each for each girl - stayed behind and Arabella's friends all crowded around me. They felt every inch of my body. I flinched the first few times they got to my penis and my bottom, but Arabella's answering smile let me know that was OK. I breathed in and out, relaxed into it, and just let it happen.

I found I liked being inspected. I stood there knowing I was being objectified, valued, assessed for worth as a slave. I was sure a few of them would already have a fair idea of my monetary worth, and that got me a little hard. Arabella couldn't actually sell me, though I realised I had no idea if she could in fact rent me out. I'd never thought to ask until that moment.

"Cute. Permanent property?" asked Miri.

"No, he's just trying it out."

"Mmmmm hmmm, I've heard that before. If he ever ends up for sale, let me know," said Miri.

"Hands off!" giggled Arabella.

We spent the day sunbathing, swimming, playing volleyball and having a lazy time. Arabella had me fetch her everything she wanted that wasn't in the bag: I went on many trips to buy drinks, food, and sundries. She ordered me to walk with my hands at my side and let everyone see me, to expose myself and never cover up.

The sun beat down on my bare skin and I felt at peace with the world, there on the beach with my mistress. She went down to just her bikini bottoms for most of the day, but unlike her friends she never went fully nude, nor did she take any sexual pleasure from her slave. I watched open-mouthed as her friends fucked their slaves, used their boys' tongues, and even as they spitroasted one lucky male with strapons.

Arabella never made me cum either. She had me massage her all over, several times, I think to tease as much as to relax. She obviously wanted me hard and horny, wanted everyone to see me that way, and wanted me to stay that way as long as possible. My owner forbade me from touching myself sexually and I complied, always conscious that she could punish me with significant force. I was powerless to resist her words.

I think it was the sight of her bottom in those white bikini briefs that I liked the most. Her tight butt stood out against the wet fabric, and I fancied I could see through the cloth just a little way. My eyes flitted back to it, again and again, until I was practically salivating with lust. She noticed and laughed, then did nothing to stop me from tormenting myself.

So the day passed into the evening. Arabella told her friends all about the jobs she was applying for and the things she wanted to do with her life. A few times she mentioned me, but only in passing, to discuss places she could take me and things she could show me. She wanted me to see the world she was part of, but she spoke mostly of her own desires. I was an accessory, not the centre of her life, I realised.

When we got home, the sex was explosive. She threw off her clothes, chained me to the bed face up, and rode my face and cock while the bed bounced and shook. I moaned and groaned, she grunted and yelled. Arabella let me cum quite some time later, spurting off in her hand while she sat on my face and ground her hips down into me.

Later on, after we had eaten, showered, and got into bed, she talked me through my performance that day.

"You were a solid B minus today, slaveboy. You learned to expose yourself well but you couldn't quite contain your lust. A few times when you were giving me massages, I felt you rub your cock against my bikini briefs. Don't think I didn't notice. That's a demerit - ten strokes of the cane at the end of the week.

"Otherwise, you were a solid piece of male property. You spoke when spoken to, obeyed orders fairly promptly, and even if you didn't impress my friends, you didn't embarrass me. That'll have to do for the first time out, you know. Now, slave, go to sleep and think about how to do better for me next time. Goodnight, Gregory."

"Goodnight, Mistress Arabella."

Part 3 - Orgy

A few days passed in similar style. We spent a lot of time at the beach, and we toured the houses of Arabella's friends. Everywhere we went, I played second fiddle to Arabella. She led, I followed. She spoke at length, I spoke occasionally. In fact, I almost always spoke when spoken to, I never initiated conversation.

I might even have been a little bit bored if it weren't for my fascination with the way Arabella did everything. She moved with real grace, she smiled with calmness and certainty in her eyes, and she spoke firmly and without hesitation. She was so naturally dominant that it came through in everything she did, from the way she pointed me where to walk, to the way she ordered my food.

I did not think I was in love with her, but I had developed great affection for her. She fucked me every day, sometimes with her strapon, sometimes using my cock. Always it was her fucking me, never the other way around. She took what she wanted and gave me what I wanted, or what she decided I wanted.

On the Saturday afternoon of our first week together, she sat me down in her room and told me what we were going to do that weekend.

"Slaveboy, Miri is throwing a little orgy today and tomorrow, and she's invited us along. We're going; pack me some clothes and a towel, enough for the whole weekend. Don't worry about anything else. OK?"

"Erm..."

"You don't have a choice in any case."

"Yes, Mistress!"

"Good boy. Get on with it then!"

I flew through the packing, and Arabella quickly checked I had put the right things in. She found my choices to her liking, and she swept out of the house with me holding the bag. Arabella wore a short white party dress that showed off her thighs beautifully. She led me on a long leash through the neighbourhood and then onto a fast tram that brought us to within walking distance of Miri's apartment, and we went the rest of the way on foot.

Miri's place had plenty of space, mostly in one big all-purpose room about forty metres by forty metres. She had two bedrooms, one bathroom, and the kitchen was part of her main living space in the back corner. When we walked through the front door, we found a few of Arabella's friends already there, each of them already having their way with a slaveboy of their choice.

Miri rushed forward to meet us. A stocky leashed male followed her on all-fours, and two other male slaveboys trotted behind her. Miri looked stunning: her jet black hair was up in a severe bun, and she wore a black leather corset and matching thigh-high boots. Her glossy black muff was on display, and she strutted around like a woman at the height of her power.

"Hi Arabella, welcome home!"

"Hi Miri! What do you mean, we saw each other a few days ago..."

"You've not really come home until you've used and abused some nameless slaveboys, honey. Which one do you want to get started with?"

"Hmmmm, the shorter one with the nice eyes and curly hair. Yes, he'll do. Any limits?"

"No permanent damage, nothing too biological - I've put a list in the apartment cloud, check it out."

"Well, Gregory, I'll leave you with Miri."

"Thanks, honey! Slaveboy, come with me. I want to display you and I have just the right place. Crawl."

I dropped to my knees without thinking and crawled after her. She had an even slimmer bottom than Arabella and she wiggled it back and forth hypnotically as she walked. I followed her on all-fours, past a few sofas, chairs and beds where her friends fucked slaveboys or used their tongues.

We came into sight of three round cages, each about high enough for a man to kneel in, and I realised what Miri had meant. There were several comfortable armchairs and one sofa arranged around the cages, so that whoever sat there could look at what was on display. Miri ushered me forward and had me stop in front of the middle cage.

"OK, I'll open the rear door and let you in - go in forwards, face those chairs, that's it, good slave. All right, first I'm going to gag you with this ball gag, like so. Just drool around it as required. Now, put one hand against the side of the cage, and the other against the other side, that's it.

"Snap, snap with my cuffs and you're in a nice display position. Hmmmm. So far so dull. How shall we spice you up? Open your legs and kneel up just a bit, this should be fun. Take a deep breath and let me plug you, good boy. You're nothing but a slave and anyone your owner says can violate you, can violate you. That's every woman at the party, in case you were wondering.

"A quick press on the remote, and the buttplug starts on maximum stimulation. Uh huh, you like that, don't you my little slaveboy? I'm glad Arabella didn't get a bull, smaller men are much more interesting to display. So much less arrogance to get past, you can get a good show going right away.

"I love how you wriggle and squirm already, slaveboy. Just one more thing to take care of and you're done - have you ever come across a 'snake', slave? No. Hmmm. This is a flexible drone that goes around your cock. It can grip, pulse, vibrate, and even punish. It can, and will, get you off - it learns what you like.

"Well, that's it, Gregory, you're on display now. Be a dear for a couple of hours and I'll let you out again. Click, click, go the locks, and you're properly caged. I think I might just sit down over here and have a good look at you. Pet-slave, come lick momma now!"

Miri flopped down into an armchair, with a smile right across her face. Her pet-slave answered her call and raced to get his tongue between her thighs, and I watched from the cage. I felt a wriggling sensation on my cock, and looked down to find the snake had wrapped itself around my shaft.

I got harder and harder as it pulsed and vibrated, until I was completely erect. In my arse, the buttplug took on the same rhythms, and I had to suck in deep breaths through my nose to handle the sensations. A scrape of metal sounded from the cage wall: I had tried to move my hand down to adjust the snake, forgetting I was cuffed. Miri sniggered.

More girls joined Miri and had pet-slaves come to lick their pussies. All the girls watched me intently as I wriggled and struggled within the cage. I could sense an orgasm closing in on me, and I had no idea whether to delay to keep the show going, or just let it happen. I realised perhaps that was part of the mindfuck, but that did nothing to resolve the confusion.

What did resolve things was the snake. Its AI must have sensed that I was holding back, for it tightened down on my shaft and its vibrations sped up. I tried to gasp through the gag, but suddenly there was no possibility of resistance. I came hard and fast, spurting cum through the bars of the cage, drawing applause from the watching girls.

They left me on display for two more hours. I came four times while a selection of women watched the show. Arabella came over after an hour and injected me with a hypospray. My senses sharpened and I felt the fatigue in my muscles fade - it got me through the second hour until Miri finally released me.

"You were great to look at, Gregory, but now I want more. I'm going to fuck you with my strapon right over there, in the middle of the room where as many people as possible will see. I bet Arabella you'd cum again with my cock inside you - if I win she's going to let me fuck her next. If she wins, she'll take me instead. You won't know what's hit you, boy."

Either Arabella was already drunk, or she wanted Miri to win, because she let her friend use an electrically powered stim-strapon on me. I'd always, always orgasmed with one of those inside me, and this time would be no different. Miri got me in position on all-fours, then she got ready behind me.

"Don't worry, slaveboy, once I've had my fun with you I'll let you meet some of my other guests. Lightly trained tongues like yours are such a novelty. Deep breath, now, boy, here I come," said Miri.

We were right in the middle of the open plan apartment, on a huge 'bed' made from scatter cushions and quilts. Two other couples shared the space with us, and we were visible from many angles through the chairs, cages and other furniture in Miri's place. She wasted no time; I gasped as she slid inside me, then I felt her hands wrap around my hips.

"Brace yourself, bitch," she said.

Miri took me hard. I squealed and groaned as she pounded my arse. Whichever direction I wriggled in, she followed, always thrusting deep inside me. I looked back over my shoulder, to see a wicked look in her eyes and sweat already forming on her brow. There was a rosy glow in her cheeks, from heat or lust or both, and her mouth was open wide with pleasure.

I leaned back into her and let her thrust as deep inside me as she could. My submissive personality responded to her, and I realised I was grateful for the attention she was paying me. I braced myself against her and she tightened her grip on my hips, then we fucked each other like that, her cock sliding inside me and I sending my weight to meet it.

Miri moaned. I felt a tingling start in my cock. The stim-strapon sent pulses of pleasure through me and I shivered all over every time Miri went deep. It took just a few minutes before I was close to orgasm again, and Miri's moans and noises made me think she could not be far behind. Was I going to cum that easily for her, to let her fuck my owner?

Yes. Yes, I was. Miri slowed down suddenly. She made me feel every stroke of the cock she wore in slow motion, and I found my heartbeat shot up and my head spun. Now all the sensations from the electrified strapon were filling me without pause. My cock spasmed as the strapon slid onto my prostate. I yelled out my orgasm and Miri patted my bottom tenderly.

"Good boy!" she said.

A while later we were in Miri's little bedroom. I knelt on the floor, in touching distance of the big bed that took up most of the room. Miri and Arabella lay on top of the bed, a stim strapon connecting them. They did it in missionary, while I knelt with my legs open and my hands behind my back. I was forbidden to get off while they took whatever pleasure they wanted.

They made love. There was a real connection between them: fondness suffused each of their faces and tenderness guided their touches. Miri glided back and forth with the strapon and Arabella practically sang with each slow penetration. I watched, rapt. This was nothing like the way Arabella fucked me: this was real love, whether platonic or romantic I could not tell.

Miri made absolutely sure that Arabella came. She used the stim-strapon so skilfully, pleasuring my owner until she whimpered and moaned and then cried out in ecstasy. I knew no orgasm I had given Arabella so far was the equal of the one I had just seen. Being a slave was a strange thing: it made me see that I had so much more to learn about pleasure, if my owner would let me.

She would - I spent the rest of the orgy touring the apartment as a tongue slave. I licked pussy after pussy as different women took their pleasure from me. Some whipped me as I served them, some grabbed my hair, some sat on my face. All of them gave me little bits of guidance, tips and tricks, or just hurt me when I did the wrong thing. I pushed myself through the exhaustion and tried to learn what they could teach me.

Part 4 - Cleaning Duty

More days had passed, all of them much more normal than the orgy; Arabella stood with me in the hallway, ready to give me my day's orders.

"Help daddy clean the house today, Gregory," said Arabella as she left for her job interview.

She swept out of the house in a beautifully cut grey suit, to catch the monorail into town and then connect with the train network to whisk her away to a nearby city with lots of cutting edge scientific jobs going. I wished her luck, then went to find her father, who was already on hands and knees in the kitchen. We were both quite naked.

"Morning, thanks for helping me out," he said, looking up at me.

"You're welcome, though I mean, I am just following orders," I replied.