Summer in the Gynarchic Empire

"That's just what a boy should do in your situation. How are you finding our way of life, anyway?" he asked as I knelt down beside him and we both started to scrub floors.

"The house AI is...?"

"Monitoring us, yes, but you can be frank about it, there's no rule against honest self-reflection. Arabella didn't bring you to our country so you could be some mindless drone. Say your piece, son."

"Well... So far so good I guess. I thought I'd miss my freedom more, but now I don't have it. It's not that big of a deal, I'm being taken care of and I get to take care of Arabella in return. That's nice."

"You know I grew up here, so I never really knew any other way of life. What's it like, controlling your own life so completely, is it scary?"

"Well yes and no, it's not like I had infinite options even back home, they're curtailing men's rights there too, because of our violent instincts and tendency towards conflict. It's more peaceful now, there's less crime, and I guess... I guess I think that's better."

"It sounds like you might have ended up someone's property there too."

"Not property, no, but certainly not head of household, not with the way our society is changing. Isn't that why you let Arabella go to university there?"

"I don't let Arabella do anything, she makes her own choices, but I encouraged her to spread her wings if that's what you mean. I want them both to see life. So you're happy here?"

"Yes!"

"Good. I hope the cleaning doesn't put you off too much."

"It's all for them, isn't it?"

"That it is my boy. Let's get to it."

He turned away from me and I got a look at his arse as he scrubbed. Arabella's father was in great shape, with tight muscles and well-defined lines all across his legs and back. He wore an identical unbreakable chastity cage to mine, as well as a gold pain ring around his balls that seemed to have something engraved around it - a date. Maybe his wedding? Or his enslavement perhaps.

It didn't bother him at all to be naked around me or to let me see everything. I could make out faint traces of red in stripes across his backside, from a caning or a whipping I thought. Was it just part of his relationship with his wife - or hell, with his daughters - or had it been some kind of special event? Something bad he'd done? Or something he just enjoyed? I spent a while wondering how to ask him, and we moved onto polishing and tidying in the sitting room.

"So I can't help noticing..." I said.

"Yes," he replied.

"That you seem to have been punished recently."

"Oh, the stripes? Yes, yes, I talked back to my wife when she ordered me to make her a fresh coffee the other day. She'd let the first one go cold. My fault for not reminding her it was there, I was too engrossed in massaging her feet at the time. Still. Hmmmm, yes, I can say this. After the caning we got a little too hot and bothered and forgot all about the new coffee - let's just say we both made it up to each other."

I laughed. "That's nice I guess! Is that typical here?"

"Pretty typical yeah - the other husbands I play football with have a lot of similar stories."

"Have you ever worked? Outside the home I mean?"

"I was a professional masseur when I was younger, but nowadays I just do the odd friend of the family for free. I think when Letitia leaves I might go back to it though, there are some great new sports massage techniques I could train in, and people of my age bracket get injured more and more, so I'll always have clients."

"Sounds very hands on."

"I couldn't do some complex academic job like you and Arabella, I prefer to just go for it. No patience for multi-year projects or whatever it is you all actually do."

"Actually I mostly prefer day to day lab work, something I can give lots of attention to detail to and get just right."

"I like to go with the flow more: massage lets you do that."

"Mmmmm," I replied.

I took his veiled advice and let my mind just go with it, the cleaning I mean. My hands caressed each object I polished like it was my owner's thigh, and my eyes slid around, looking for spots I'd missed and homing in on the little things I might have overlooked. Approving noises issued from Arabella's father every now and then, and eventually we moved onto the upstairs.

"Mistress says you're doing the handwashing," said Arabella's father.

"Oh, right. OK."

"I'll show you where the hamper is and what to do..."

Minutes later I found myself in a little room off the kitchen, with a pile of dirty lingerie and a basin of cold soapy water. I picked up a black silk thong and plunged it into the water, then I started to gently work out the dirt from it. I tried not to imagine what the dirt was, but a twitch in my chastity cage heralded my cock trying to get free. No such luck: my mind filled with images of lust, while my penis strained in vain.

Between the three of them there was a lot of lingerie to get through, so much so that I wondered if they'd been saving it up for me. Arabella favoured bigger, frillier knickers and I tended to recognise those, not least the ones I had got off her with my teeth. Letitia and her mother tended towards smoother fabrics and more daring cuts, and I found those the hardest to wash, because there was so little fabric to work with. And because my hands shook when I picked them up.

So there I was, living out some kind of slaveboy fantasy. The reality was much more frustrating than I'd imagined, because it was real work and I had to do it flawlessly. I could not take my eye off the ball or miss a spot in case I got punished, and I really wanted to please my hosts with the quality of my work. My hands worked and worked until they ached, and the pile finally disappeared.

We ate lunch together after I hung everything out to dry in the backyard (with my shorts on for modesty), then we cleaned the upstairs of the house with equal gusto to the downstairs. That just left the basement, which I had gathered was the playroom for Arabella's parents. Henry took me down the carpeted stairs, then unlocked the door with a touch of his thumb on a sensor.

"Don't worry," he said, "you only need to clean the floors, I'll do the equipment. There's nothing nasty there, just your common or garden grime and muck."

The basement had a nice pattern of black and white tiles all across the floor, broken up only by the metal or wooden legs of a flogging horse, a few chairs, and a set of stocks. Along one wall were ceiling-high metal cages, enough to hold perhaps six or seven slaves squashed in together, or three with room to move around a little. In the corner was a dresser and some cupboards; the open door revealed a plethora of sex toys.

"So, um," I said, "do all houses here have a room like this or is this you know, pretty rare?" I asked.

"It's not like I have figures for you, Gregory. I'd say it's pretty common though, we have friends who entertain in theirs and we do the same from time to time. Some people are a little less adventurous about their sex lives than us though, and we don't judge them for that. Some just prefer a more sedate life."

"Not you, though," I said, picking up a riding crop that had fallen into a corner behind a red leather chair.

"Lowest drawer please. Not us indeed... And I think not you either... Now, let's clean."

We made good time there, me on my hands and knees scrubbing with bucket and brush, he with sanitiser and wipes in hand. In no time we had the room spotless and gleaming, and he declared our tasks for the day finished. He pulled up the holographic display from his wrist computer and I saw him pinging his wife's location - I found their maps hard to read as I knew so little of the area, but I thought she seemed to be moving fast, so must be on the monorail. Perhaps coming home.

"If you need to use the bathroom, please do so now, then return down here to join me. My wife will appreciate coming home to two caged slaveboys kneeling in display position - little touches like that help our more dominant halves show how much we appreciate them."

"Sure thing," I replied.

I should have known that wasn't the end of it. When Francine stalked her way downstairs into the basement, she smiled with glee to see us both kneeling, naked, in the cage with the door locked. Neither of us could open it - only she or the girls. Her heels clicked across the tiles and she grasped the bars, then looked down at us.

"Hello boys," she purred.

"Good afternoon my love," said Henry.

"Good afternoon Mistress," I said.

"Gregory, you have done a most magnificent job around the house," said Francine, her eyes gleaming.

"Thank you Mistress."

"Most magnificent indeed. Arabella says I may reward you, Gregory. Do you think you deserve a reward?"

"I don't know Mistress. I just followed orders."

"No, you cleaned with reverence, with love even. The house records what you say in the common areas, Gregory. I think you have earned a little reward, and I do so love to help break in new boys. I think we'll use the stim strapon. Cage: unlock. Crawl out here."

A minute later she had me strapped over the fucking bench down there in the cellar, my arse presented and ready for her to fuck. She stood in front of me and stripped down out of her clothes, letting them fall in a heap on the floor. Off to one side knelt Henry, still caged but with his dick set free. I glanced at him and saw the lust in his eyes as he watched his wife; she donned a strapon then strode behind me.

"What a beautiful sextoy my daughter has captured for us," she whispered.

"Thank you Mistress," I replied - what else could I say?

"I'm keeping your slave cock caged at your owner's request, but who knows, maybe you'll cum inside it if I turn the stim pulses up to the maximum setting."

I gulped.

"I'll get mine, and I'll fuck you long enough that my husband gets his. You're far from the first boy we've made use of this way, and you certainly won't be the last Gregory. Consider this your penance for flaunting such a deliciously fuckable backside around my home these past weeks."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Here I come!"

"Oh!"

"Who's your mommy?"

"Huh?"

"Who's your mommy slaveboy?"

"Oh! Oh god."

"Who. Is. Your. Mommy?"

"You are."

"Say it."

"You're my mommy!"

"Good boy. Again."

"You're my mommy!"

"Louder!"

"You're my mommy!" I yelled.

"Damn right bitch."

I hadn't seen that side to her before, I guess because she didn't show it to her daughters. She dialled up the stim strapon to its maximum setting; I heard her gasp with pleasure as the pulses hit her clit, and I groaned as electricity surged through my prostate. Francine fucked me with long, quick strokes. I looked back over my shoulder to see a fiery gleam in her eyes, and she nodded when our eyes met, a sign that she had seen me seeing her, that she knew I recognised enflamed dominance when I felt it.

She slapped my arse as she pounded me.

"Slut," she said.

"Uh huh."

"Answer 'yes Mistress Mommy'. Whore."

"Yes Mistress Mommy."

"Bitch."

"Yes Mistress Mommy."

"Cockfiend."

"Yes Mistress Mommy."

"Buttslut."

"Yes Mistress Mommy."

"Wanton young man."

"Yes Mistress Mommy."

"Delicious treat."

"Yes Mistress Mommy."

"Good boy."

"Yes Mistress Mommy."

Francine threw her hips forward and rammed her strapon cock deep inside me, then she drew back and cast herself towards me again. Her moans grew ragged and her breath lost its rhythm; she grunted and groaned as she thrust inside me and I felt her start to shake. She was close, I was not. If she came before me I would get no release, I thought, so I tried to let go of my self-control and let the pulses take me.

No luck. With a great scream Francine came all of a sudden. She rammed her cock inside me and then switched the pace down a few notches so she could savour each stroke and use it to enhance her heady climax. I looked back at her and saw great satisfaction spread over her face; just at that moment I heard Henry grunt, then I caught sight of his jet of cum as it left the cage.

"You've pleased Mistress Mommy greatly, slaveboy," said Francine, "A shame you didn't cum, but Arabella will know you were a good little slut for me. Maybe she'll take pity when she comes to untie you. Just one more thing, Gregory: you missed one pair of knickers earlier. Do you know which?"

"No, Mistress, sorry, Mistress."

"They're right here where I took off my clothes just now, Gregory."

"Oh."

"Open wide Gregory, your hands are tied so a little slobber will be a nice alternative to a hand wash. Good boy. See you later hon. Come, Henry, let's go start dinner."

They left me tied down there, my arse up in the air, Francine's knickers taped in my mouth, my hands and legs bound to the horse. It was a little uncomfortable, but the padded bench helped, and the house's AI kept a watchful gaze on my breathing and pulse. I was in no danger. I could hear nothing from the rest of the house thanks to the soundproofing of the room, and could not see the time. Perhaps an hour later, perhaps two, Arabella came to find me.

"I hope you have some energy left, Gregory. Seeing you like this has me all hot and bothered..." she said, then I watched her clothes hit the floor, "Mom said I can use the room tonight - I've even brought my stim-strapon."

I gulped.

Part 5 - Parting Ways

I think it was around two weeks later that Arabella came to find me in her room, where I was shackled by my ankle to a long chain, and told me she needed to talk.

"Gregory, I have to go away for a while. I got offered the new job I applied for a couple of weeks ago, and there's a residential training course from it."

"I see, Mistress," I replied.

"The thing is, and I'm really sorry this puts such a crimp in your tour of our world, that I can't take you. I'm not allowed: it's an intensive course with full focus required. The training centre itself provides slave-service, and they're trained in how not to interfere in our learning. So you can't come with me, you have to stay here or do something else."

"Like what?"

"If you want I could rent you to a slave-hotel for a fortnight, that might be fun?"

"I'd be serving strangers?"

"Yes."

"I don't think I'd like that."

"Not that, then. I have one other option for you: Letitia likes you a lot and would be happy to look after you while I'm away..."

"Look after?" I said, "What does that mean?

"It means co-own."

"Oh!"

"She would control you and have contractual rights over you just like I do. I want you to take a day to think it over: your options are Letitia owns you, I rent you out to a friend, or you go home for a couple of weeks and then come back. Nothing else."

"Yes, Mistress."

A few hours later I told her my choice: I enjoyed spending time with her family a lot, and I felt safe where I was with them. I would consent to Letitia co-owning me. That seemed to be that bar some paperwork and a short online interview with an administrator who checked to see if I was of sound mind - I was, so she altered my contract. From then on I had two owners.

A few days later, when I awoke from sedated sleep, Arabella had already left, and I was alone in the bed. She had wanted to leave without any difficult goodbyes, so she had simply knocked me out with a mild sleeping tablet then left me. I felt cool metal on my ankle: I had been chained to the bed. Nothing to do but wait, then.

Letitia came in about half an hour later. She put her finger to her lips for me to see: silence. I closed my mouth in answer and she nodded. Her delicate hands whisked away the covers and revealed my nudity to her. My cock got a little harder at the sight of her, and she beamed when she saw that.

My new co-owner was a girl of nineteen, five years younger than me. Wavy brown hair framed her heart-shaped face; her sapphire eyes glistened with energy. She wore an expression of feigned innocence on her face, pouty and playful, and she batted her eyelids at me. Letitia was short and curvy with B-cup breasts and a slim waist. She wore a pink pyjama top and matching shorts.

"OK, Gregory, when I unlock your ankle, you can crawl after me into my bedroom, then kneel on the floor. Good, that's it, boy, know your place. Now follow

....

"All right, Gregory, here's how it's going to be. First off, address me as "Domina", OK? I was only 'Miss Letitia' to you when Arabella owned you, but now you'll accord me the same respect you showed her. More, in fact, when I break you a bit more. Here is my stated intention: I will break and train you until you extend your slave-visa here for a year, then I will decide whether to keep you.

"Don't believe me? You don't see the petmale I was training here anymore because he went full slave thanks to me. I got 10% of his sale fee, and that will be more than enough to pay my way through university. He came to me to explore his slavemind, just like you did, and I wrenched a crowbar in there and prized.

"Please don't think I mean this as a threat: I want you to be happy, and I know a slave when I see one. You are a slave, Gregory, you aren't meant to be free. You knew this when you signed up to travel here with Arabella, but she can't take you over the edge like I can. I'm gifted, you see, and I've developed my craft since I turned eighteen.

"First things first: any cock I own is a locked cock, so let's put you in a chastity cage. A coldpack first, horny boy... Then the ring, then the body, then I close the lock. Easy as one two three you are mine. Lie down on the bed, on your back, and get ready, because Domina needs her pussy licking."

She descended quickly, facing down towards my feet, and planted her wet pussy on my face. Her scent filled my nostrils and her moans filled my ears. My tongue found her clit quickly. She wriggled and squirmed, using my face as a sextoy, and I found her movements to be delightful. I breathed in deep whenever she let me; her taste and smell were everything I needed in that moment.

I felt her lean forward and clip something around my balls. What was that? What had she done? Arabella had never mentioned anything about this.

"Just my little present to you, slaveboy, the gift of assured obedience. That, as you may have guessed, is a shock ring. You cannot in my opinion train a slave without a shock ring around his balls, so I've been most generous and provided one. Thank me with your tongue, now, slave: go faster on my clit. Unh!"

The lithe girl thrust her hips down towards me, which forced her pussy to smother me completely. I could breathe, but only by inhaling through her, taking in all of her scent and taste at the same time. She was heavenly. I licked her faster and faster, and her moans grew louder and louder.

"Doesn't it just focus your mind to know I could fry your balls at any moment? Here, let me demonstrate level 1: keep licking if you want to avoid level 2..."

I screamed a little into her pussy as she shocked me. That was level 1? What the hell was level 2 like? Level 1 had been a searing shock that left me shaking all over. I collected my wits and kept licking Letitia, fast enough that she didn't hit me with another dose of pain. That she was willing to do that to me just as a demonstration was quite something.

"Good boy, you took that so well. Most new slaves like you would be squirming or pleading or crying right now, but you just kept right on licking like a human sextoy. Oh god that made me wet. Keep going... oh!"

I felt her orgasm gush across my face. She screwed her pussy down into me and her climax filled my mouth. I licked and swallowed in a frenzy, trying to keep her going as long and hard as I could. She giggled in response. Her climax just kept on flowing. It seemed like I could not stop myself and she would not stop me, so I kept pleasuring her for a long time.