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a scapegoat will deflect any rage they feel towards us and make them
considerably easier to control.” Gina stepped back and abruptly removed her
sweater, revealing two perfectly formed soft breasts, which appeared to be
above average in size.
“Wha-what are you going to do?” I managed to mouth the words as she
hovered over me, her erect nipples squarely in my face. Gina simply
laughed.
“Right now, I’m going to celebrate,” she said. “I’m going to celebrate my
biological superiority.” She reached down, placing two fingers of one hand
on my nostrils and two fingers of the other inside my mouth, forcing it
open. She was not gentle, even though I offered no resistance. She
replaced her fingers with her supple breast and grabbed me roughly by the
hair. “Suck,” she said. “worship my nipple.” I cupped my lips around her
nipple and began to suck it gently, feeling it swell and become firm in my
mouth. Gina continued to speak.
“Please do not misconstrue what I am about to do to you,” she said, fine
tuning my rigid erection with gentle strokes from her index finger as I
continued to suckle her breast. “I harbor no feelings of affection for you,
nor do you inspire any extraordinary sexual arousal within me. My
intention is to invade you fully, to begin a process of degradation and
humiliation that shall culminate in a complete restructuring of your
identity as well as your willing participation in our cause as a propaganda
tool against those remaining members of your own gender.” She pulled her
breast away from my mouth and replaced it with her lips, kissing me roughly
and deeply, pushing her tongue past my teeth and winning the battle for
dominance within my mouth by tasting the deepest recesses of my throat.
She then abruptly withdrew, keeping her eyes locked on mine and a
mischievous , arrogant smirk planted on her face as she proceeded to slowly,
sensuously, fully undress herself, revealing a compact, athletic form. My
penis became rock hard in response, turning purple and bending back towards
my face. Gina responded by squatting above me, her pungent vagina just
centimeters from my mouth.
“You will begin by paying homage to that orifice from which you emerged
when you were born, Daniel.” She plopped her wet sex squarely on my lips,
causing me to compulsively flick my tongue at her hard clitoris. “Suck me.
I intend to climax in your mouth and you will swallow until there is nothing
more to swallow.” I swirled my tongue inside her labia and tickled her
clitoris with my nose. She began humping my face–slowly at first, but then
more rapidly as I did my best to pleasure her. Gina periodically reached
down and bit on my fully erect member when she felt that I was slacking off,
which had the effect of renewing my enthusiasm for the job at hand.
“Suck it,” she intoned contemptuously, “Suck it, little man!” I bonded my
mouth and lips to her thrusting pussy, my tongue delicately probing her
damp, quivering vagina as I endeavored to match the rhythm of her bucking
hips. She was raping my head, fucking my mouth, nearly decapitating me
with pure unbridled passion. I felt her pussy spasm above me triumphantly,
her powerful thighs clenching fully around my captured skull, a sticky hot
spray of female ejaculate coated my face, stinging my eyes, and gushing down
my throat. I struggled to lap us as much as I could as she moaned and
bucked, holding painfully onto my fully engorged cock like a horsewoman
clutching her animal’s reins.
After a while, Gina turned around, laughed throatily, and impaled herself
on my thick penis as she glared down imperiously at me. She grabbed one of
my tiny breasts in each of her hands, wiggling her hips into position and
licking her lips.
“I’m going to take you, bitch.” Gina squeezed my nipples for emphasis and
spoke slowly. “I’m going to show you what sex is going to be all about from
now on.” Gina clenched my engulfed organ with her vaginal muscles for
emphasis and leaned forward, a handful of flesh in each of her hands. She
wrapped her powerful thighs around my captive legs, spreading them apart as
she simultaneously bucked her hips on top of me, pinning me down and fucking
me at a leisurely pace designed to maximize her pleasure and my frustration.
I tried to thrust my hips up, but her steely legs held them at bay while she
continued to control the speed, tempo, and intensity of the encounter.
“Steady, boy, ” she warned. “Don’t cum without my permission or I’ll
fucking rip you apart!” Gina squeezed my nipples hard to emphasize her
point. “You’re here for my purposes, so just relax and don’t fight it.” I
obeyed, my head arching backwards indicating submission to her will. She
sensed my deference and pounced, clutching my buttocks hard as she dug into
me with her mouth, planting a large hickie on my neck that would last for
weeks. She battered me with her powerful hips, pulling me inside of her
and grinding my puny torso against her muscular body with unbridled sexual
abandon, whipping herself towards orgasm at my expense. At precisely the
instant of her libidinous explosion, she thrust two fingers into my asshole,
causing me to shoot a huge wad of cum deep inside of her. Gina spent
herself on me, riding me for several minutes, using her vaginal muscles to
squeeze every last bit of cum from me, her invading fingers still deep
inside my rectum. She glared harshly at me, making not a sound, staring
unsmiling into my eyes.
Suddenly, she pulled herself off of me and reversed positions, lowering her
sopping vagina onto my face. “Swallow,” she said. “Remove your revolting
slime from my body.” I had little choice but to clamp my lips about her
vagina and suck out my own cum, flicking her clitoris with my tongue as I
did so and bringing her to another fierce orgasm. She spent herself on my
face once again and wordlessly dismounted, kissing me deeply, aggressively,
pushing her tongue down my throat and devouring the residual juices in my
mouth.
Gina withdrew. She gathered her clothes and dressed silently, completely
ignoring me. I remained tied to the bed as she left the room, my fate an
uncertainty I would ponder for the next several hours. The only clue I had
was a remark I overheard following her departure. Something about an
appointment with the tattoo artist. I would soon find out, I thought….
implementation of a strict male management policy that will affect each and
every man and boy on the planet. The choice is yours.” She stroked me
lightly again, peering into my eyes, deciphering the meaning of my moans,
taking me to the precise edge of ecstasy itself, and then withdrew.
“Pl-please! I-I” She backed up a distance of about ten feet. I began
swaying my hips as the bailiffs held me, trying to hump the air.
“Fuck yourself, Daniel, if you must.” she said. “The consequences of your
actions are yours alone.” I became aware of my freed hand and began to reach
for my cock, stopping abruptly as I saw her giggle in contempt. My organ
shrank just a millimeter and I felt the tension subside just a bit when an
invading finger belonging to one of the bailiffs found my rectum and forced
it open, sliding up inside, pressing hard on my prostate gland. It was
simply too much. The hot liquid rope shot out on its own, and my reflexes
took over. I grabbed my cock in an attempt at damage control, but it was
too late. Streams of cum gushed forth, the jury gasped, the prosecutor
grinned at the spectacle, the judge banged her gavel, and I suddenly felt a
towel covering my mouth and nostrils. The odor was astringent, and as I
spilled the last of my seed on the courtroom floor I fell into a dark, deep
sleep.
The first thing I noticed upon returning to my senses was the peculiar
sensation of lying supine in a strange location. I was still naked but on a
soft surface, much like a bed. The lighting was a bit dim, the
surroundings seemed feminine, and the linens were perfumed. My wrists were
locked into fur-lined shackles and confined above my head, with both ankles
being fastened to the bedposts at the other end in a similar fashion.
There was a good deal of laughing and revelry coming from an adjacent room,
all of which seemed to be female voices. It sounded like a party. I
strained to hear some of the things being said, but all of the chatter was
interspersed with giggling and wasn’t too lucid. After a short period of
time, a woman poked her head in the door and called out to the partygoers
after noticing my emerging consciousness.
“Gina!” the voice said. “He’s awake!” She abruptly closed the door and
began conversing with someone in the hall. I tried to shake the cobwebs
from my head as I seemed to hear the assemblage of voices move away. When I
had almost drifted to sleep again, the door opened and an attractive woman
came inside.
It was the woman who had prosecuted me in the courtroom. She had changed
from her business suit into blue jeans and a sweatshirt, but my body still
tensed in mortification at her presence. She smiled sweetly as she sat upon
the bed, and roughly grabbed and pulled my face towards her as I began to
glance away.
“You can look at me, Daniel,” she said, smiling infectiously stroking my
hair lightly. “In fact, I want you to look at me!”
“What happened? Where am -” I was still a bit groggy from whatever drug
they had used to sedate me in the courtroom.
“The jury retired after you deprived us of your conscious presence,” Gina
said, matter of factly. “You were subsequently convicted of first degree
rape. It took them about fifteen minutes to decide.”
“Well, why–why am I here? Where’s my own attorney? What-what’s going
on?” I strained against my bonds. “Why am I tied up like this?”
“You’re here because I wanted you here.” Gina licked her lips and trailed
her fingernail sensuouly down my neck. “I defeated you in public before
the world, and now it gives me enormous pleasure to defeat you in private.”
“What are you talking about?” I raised my head as much as the restraints
would allow. Gina smiled.
“Minutes after the unanimous verdict was read, the world’s various
governments ordered the full implementation of a global policy of male
management. That order is being carried out as I speak, with males
worldwide being separated from one another and segregated into small groups
for transport to labor camps at diverse locations.” I groaned and leaned
back as Gina’s light touch danced about my erect nipples.
“In fact, Daniel, you are now something of a pariah amongst the male
population.” She continued to rub me softly, with my own humiliation
heightened by my arousal. “Some of them speak of inflicting bodily injury
on you. Others talk openly of murder. They consider you weak and
worthless, a poor representative of your own gender.” Gina suddenly reached
down and cupped my scrotum, giggling audibly as she stared into my eyes.
“Which, of course, is what you are. That’s why we targeted you for
prosecution and for this demonstration.” Gina brought my thickening organ
to a fully erect state with some skillful stimulation, much as she had in
the courtroom. She continued to speak.
“We will, naturally, fully protect your safety and provide you with a
comfortable existence. You will never have to work in the camps with the
other males. In fact, you won’t be allowed to work at all. Which is why
you’ll probably never again see another male in person for as long as you
live. From time to time, we’ll take pictures of you apparently living a
life of luxury and leak those photographs to the males in the camps.” She
grinned from ear to ear as I squirmed in agony. “Keeping the males angry at
…End of the part5. To be continued..
and direction that she desired. When it jutted straight out like a hard
unripe banana, she withdrew, removing her hands and placing it on exhibit
for the courtroom. I began to perspire nervously.
“Is that the best you can do, Daniel?” She flicked my now fully erect
member with her finger in contempt. “Why, just a few minutes ago it was
soft and rather limp. Now it’s as hard as a broomstick!” I hung my head in
shame and began to shake a little. One of the bailiffs put an arm around
my waist and held me tightly, steadying me. The camera zoomed in.
“Did you misunderstand my directions?” The prosecutor played with my
penis, bobbing it up and down with one finger and providing just the right
amount of stimulation to keep it fully engorged. “Did you not make any
attempt at all to comply with my request that you keep it soft, or is this
truly your best effort to do so?”
“Yes, ma’am..it’s-” I was shaky and tongue tied, my psyche riddled with
the strange tandem of pleasure and mortification. “..it’s the best I can
do.” The prosecutor smiled and came closer. She spoke softly, clearly
pleased with my answer.
“Thank you for being honest with me, Daniel. Now, would you like me to
help you out of what is clearly an embarrassing situation for you?”
“Ma’am?” I didn’t know what she was getting at.
“Your enlarged organ is clearly causing you some discomfort, Daniel.
Aren’t you able to put it away on your own?” She continued to trace it
lightly with her fingernail, keeping it fully erect.
“Well, uh…no, ma’am” The jury was openly giggling at my predicament.
“I-I’m just too sexually aroused!”
“I can help.” the prosecutor cooed softly. “Would you like me to?”
“Uh, I suppose so, ma’am-” She smiled wickedly and locked her eyes onto
mine. Suddenly, she gripped the head of my penis hard, squeezing it like a
tube of toothpaste, forcing the blood from the appendage and softening it as
though tenderizing a piece of meat, blunting my immediate arousal and
shrinking its size to almost its prearousal state. The bailiffs gripped me
tightly as I winced in shock and pain. The prosecutor abruptly walked away,
ignoring me, addressing the jury directly, who listened intently as she
spoke.
“Ladies of the jury, it is not my intention to suggest that Daniel is an
evil male, actively attacking and physically abasing women,” she turned her
attention towards me once again. “he is merely a typical male, a male like
all others, incapable of controlling his most base of all biological urges.
Without guidance and lifelong supervision, he is destined to violate the new
laws prohibiting voyeur rape over and over again.” She turned to me once
again. “Daniel, you do agree for the most part with what I’m saying, don’t
you?”
“Uh, no, ma’am…I really don’t.” She was being cunning and manipulative.
I had to stand up to her. The prosecutor came close and gently stroked my
penis to life again.
“We need another demonstration, then?” She brought her attention to a drop
of precum which had beaded on the head of my thickening cock, touching it
with her finger. “What is this, Daniel?”
“Uh-” I stammered, “uh, my body produces that when I’m sexually aroused,
ma’am.”
“Oh?” My penis was fully erect once again. “What if I wanted some? What
would I have to do?”
“Um, well,” I was uncomfortable explaining the process. “Uh, I would have
to climax.”
“Isn’t that your whole reason for existence, Daniel, to climax and spew
your slime about the planet?” She started softly, with her voice raising to
a fever pitch. ” Isn’t it true that you, like all males, are incapable of
foregoing sexual gratification for the pursuit of anything higher?” She was
gently kneading my hard organ, increasing my level of excitement. She shot
a glance to one of the bailiffs, who abruptly freed my right hand.
“I think you-you’re doing quite a bit of stereotyp-” My organ was now rock
hard. She began to stroke it in a rhythmic and sensual fashion, sending
cataclysmic jolts of pure pleasure rocketing up my groin.
“In fact, it would be fair to say that you are incapable of forming a
coherent thought right now, isn’t that correct, Daniel?” She pumped me with
a firmer hand as my eyes began to glaze over, unable to respond.
“Ladies of the jury, I have brought this male to the precipice of his very
being, to that place in his psyche beyond his control. It is this response
I ask you to consider today when you retire to weigh his destiny.” She
slowed her stroking and eventually stopped, holding the tip of my penis and
tickling its underside lightly, freezing me on the brink of a long
ejaculation.
“Ohhhh,” I moaned, begging to cum.
“Daniel, I have a proposition for you.” She spoke softly and continued to
stimulate me, keeping me at a plateau of pleasure and frustration. “If you
can prove to me now that you are capable of overcoming your base instincts
by stopping your ejaculation, I’ll recommend that all charges against you be
dropped.” She pumped my cock lightly again, using my own precum as a
lubricant. “If, however, you prove incapable of controlling yourself, I’m
going to push hard. Not merely for your own incarceration, but for the
…End of the part4. To be continued..
therefore could not help but violate the attitude clause of the statute
against forcible rape when you met the eyes of the victim in this case.”
She came close to me, studying me. “Daniel, are you aware that this trial
is being broadcast live throughout the world?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m aware of that.”
“Do you realize that if I am successful in proving my point here today that
the debate over the necessity of male management will be over, and that it
will become a reality worldwide?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She was reminding me of the stakes in an effort to
intimidate me. I merely bit my lip.
“And do you further realize that if I am unsuccessful, I will look foolish,
and that it will be a tremendous boost for your side?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m aware of that too.” She smiled and paused, moving closer
and looking me up and down once again.
“You know, Daniel, you look a little bit different when you’re naked than I
do.” She spoke softly and tenderly, caressing my chest with her
fingernails.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I know that there are a number of differences, Daniel, but can you tell me
what that appendage is that hangs between your legs? I don’t have one of
those!” Her perfume was having an almost hypnotic effect on me. She was
trying to set me up in some way, but I couldn’t determine how.
“That is my penis, ma’am.”
“It is your sexual organ, the thing that actually makes you a male, isn’t
it, Daniel?”
“Yes, ma’am.” When she brought my attention to my penis, it began to
thicken.
“Why, it seems to be growing! Are you doing that? Are you showing off on
television, Daniel?” She giggled sensually, knowing the answer but
contentedly taunting me.
“No, ma’am. I-”
“When does that happen exactly, Daniel? When does it grow like that?”
“It, uh, it happens when I’m sexually aroused, ma’am.”
“Oh?” She licked her lips. “Then you must find me attractive, is that
correct, Daniel?”
“Uh…yes, ma’am, I do.”
“Even though I’m the person trying to take your freedom away, you find me
irresistable, isn’t that true, Daniel?”
“Well, irresistible’s kind of a strong term, ma’am…”
“Are you sexually aroused, Daniel?”
“A little bit, ma’am.” Her smile disappeared and her demeanor became stern
once again.
“So you’re saying that in a court of law on a global telecast while you’re
on trial for rape that you cannot refrain from thoughts about having sex
with me, isn’t that true, Daniel?”
“No, ma’am, I–there’s just a lot of sexual tension here.” I was sweating
profusely. One of the bailiffs wiped me down with a towel. The prosecutor
held a hand to her chin and began to think.
“What would happen,” she began, “if I were to touch your penis? Would it
grow even larger than it is now?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I shuddered in embarassment. The jurors were giggling
amongst themselves.
“And what if you tried as hard as you could to keep it from growing larger
and more rigid? Could you do so?”
“If you were touching it? Uh…no, ma’am. I don’t think I could.”
“Are you saying then, Daniel, that it is I, a woman for whom you have
admitted a sexual attraction to, who has a measure of control over your very
penis that you do not, even though that same penis is a part of your body?”
My eyes drooped to the floor in shame. I noticed one of the television
cameras zooming in on my partially erect member.
“Yes, ma’am, I guess so, but that’s just-” one of the bailiffs pulled on my
ear, silencing me. The prosecutor came very close, smiling sweetly.
“Daniel, I am going to touch your penis. I want you to try, I really do.
I want you to try as hard as you can to keep it soft and pliable to my touch
rather than have it go rigid and hard. Do you think you can do that for
me?”
“Uh, no ma’am, I’m not sure I can.” I had never felt so helpless.
“I don’t think you can, either. That’s the whole point.”
The prosecutor extended her right hand, lightly scratching the underside of
my scrotum and trailing the sensation up to my member. I closed my eyes,
trying to fill my thoughts with non-sexual themes, attempting to distract
myself as she gently stroked and fondled my penis. The futility of this
strategy was immediately evident as she began to stroke my hair and face
with her free hand and cooed a soft, low noise inaudible to everyone except
me. When her perfume once again invaded my olfactory senses, my resistance
was entirely broken down as my penis rapidly stiffened in her fingers.
Having won the battle to get my organ to respond to her touch, she began to
sculpt it, to stimulate it in such ways that it grew readily into the shape
…End of the part3. To be continued..
blouse, white stockings, and black heels. She appeared to be in excellent
physical shape, her striking athletic figure refusing to be completely
hidden beneath her modest corporate attire. The courtroom grew quiet as she
emerged from the lectern and approached me.
“What is your name?” She looked me squarely in the eye. When I tried to
defiantly look back, a bailiff roughly tugged my ear, forcing my gaze to the
floor.
“Daniel,” I said quietly.
“Daniel what?” Her tone was softer. She had moved in closer to me. I
felt her musk-scented perfume sift through my nostrils.
“Daniel Jami-” I began to reply. The judge quickly pounded her gavel,
wagging her finger and rebuking me with a loud voice.
“Don’t do it, Daniel. Not in my courtroom. You need to comply with the
law even if you disagree with it. ” I sighed heavily. Instead of stating
my former last name for the record, I would have to recite the
identification number assigned me by the federal Bureau of Male Affairs.
By law, only females had conventional surnames now.
“Daniel 1227XLM.” I spoke softly after a long pause. The prosecutor
smiled and stepped back, reviewing her notes.
“Do you like girls, Daniel 1227XLM?”
“Yes, I-” The judge pounded her gavel again.
“Daniel, in this courtroom you will conduct yourself in a properly
respectful, deferential manner and address officers of this court as
‘ma’am.’ Is that clear?” Her honor was clearly angry and losing patience
with me. I paused for several seconds until the bailiff tugged at my ear
once again.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s clear.” I saw the judge smile for the first time.
“Thank you, Daniel. You may continue, counselor.”
“Thank you, you honor. Now, Daniel,” The prosecutor eyed me up and down,
her inspection causing my member to thicken slightly. “Tell me exactly what
it is that you like about girls.” She had moved closer to me once again.
“Well,” I looked away uncomfortably, clearing my throat. For the first
time I noticed the jury studying me intently. “I, er…I guess that I’m
sexually attracted to women.”
“I see…” She paced about me in a circle, studying me like a vulture
circling a dying animal. “What do you do, Daniel, when you see a woman that
you’re sexually attracted to?”
“Uh, what do I do, ma’am?” I was a bit flustered, groping for an
appropriate answer that would not serve to incriminate me in the eyes of the
jury.
“That was the question, Daniel. Please answer it.”
“I, uh…” I was in trouble and I knew it. “I just kind of look, that’s
all. I appreciate her.” The prosecutor stopped in her tracks, not more
than a few inches from my face. Her demeanor became suddenly stern.
“You imagine what she would look like without any clothes on, don’t you?”
She spoke softly and bluntly at first.
“No, ma’am, I don’t.”
“You imagine yourself having sex with her, don’t you?”
“No, ma’am, I-”
“When you find a woman sexually attractive, Daniel, your whole being just
screams for sexual release, doesn’t it?” Her voice increased an octave and
she began to yell. ” And you find that release by creating and fondling
images of women in your mind, by undressing those images, by raping those
images, by using and degrading those images for your own purposes, DON’T
YOU??”
“NO, ma’am! I-I’m not that kind of person!” She giggled under her breath
and walked back to the lectern, her heels echoing through the courtroom. I
noticed several members of the jury regarding me sternly and shaking their
heads in scorn.
“I disagree with you, Daniel. I think you are that kind of person.” She
spoke almost as an afterthought, studying several sheets of paper intently.
“Scientific studies have shown time and again that males are unable to
control their sexuality without substantial help.”
“Those studies are bogus and you know it!” I strained against my bonds,
raising my voice. Both bailiffs tugged at my ears and the judge pounded her
gavel as I continued to speak. “Objective researchers have reached totally
opposite conclusions! Why, just this last year at the University of
Stockholm-” A bailiff roughly covered my mouth, muting me. The judge
finally spoke.
“This is NOT an arena for political debate, Daniel. This is a court of
law. One more disrespectful outburst like that and I shall declare you in
contempt!” She spoke to the prosecutor. “Perhaps you should proceed with
the demonstration, counselor.”
“That is an excellent idea, your honor. I will.” The bailiff removed her
hand from my mouth. The prosecutor walked towards me once again. “Daniel,
you maintain that you are in complete control of your sexual urges, do you
not?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.” I was confident I of my ability to hold my own with
this woman.
“I maintain that, like all other men, you are not. I maintain that you
…End of the part2. To be continued..
A watershed cross examination by a powerful female attorney changes the
status of the male on a global scale.
It was quite the media spectacle. Television cameras whirred as I was led
into the courtroom, with each lens attempting to outposition the other for
the best shot as I shuffled past them. My naked body was trussed up in a
manner befitting a violent, dangerous criminal, my arms shackled securely to
a wide belt encircling my waist and my ankles fastened neatly together with
leg irons on a short chain. Several female police officers carved out an
entrance for me through the throng from the van to the courthouse and a
woman bailiff held each arm to escort me on my slow walk to my destination.
The public humiliation was part of a greater plan, and I could infer the
significance of it. Since the plague of 2017, colloquially called the “Y
chromosome plague” since it killed four fifths of the world’s men, the women
who had assumed the reins of power by default had been aggressively
deflating the status of the male on a global scale. First were the
“emergency measures” revoking all drivers’ licenses issued to men,
ostensibly to minimize the chances that any remaining males would be killed
in traffic mishaps. Next came statutes nullifying a man’s right to vote,
own property, sign contracts or serve on juries while the male population
“healed.” These events paralleled the emergence of a significant radical
female movement, which openly called for the subjugation of men.
With the passage of the recent “male management” laws, those of us who have
assembled and fought the blatant repression heaped upon our minority gender
have fallen prey to a vendetta pursued vigorously by the women who have come
to control the governments of the world. My trial, although technically
being convened to determine my guilt or innocence of the crime of rape, is
now symbolic both of our struggle and the attempts of the female population
to grind their spiked heels into our collective crotches. My naked shuffle
to the courthouse was humiliating, but it was symbolic of the freedom that
all men now longed for.
In our world, rape is not defined exclusively as an unwanted sexual attack
as it was in our grandparents’ day. While that definition of rape is still
valid, a much more common application of the law comes into play when a man
violates the new “attitude” clause when interacting with a woman. In other
words, it is now illegal, and may be interpreted as rape, for a man to gaze
upon a woman with “prurient”, or sexual, intent. Since any direct gaze may
be interpreted as a “prurient” gaze and upheld by the courts as a rape
conviction, most men generally spend their days with their eyes cast down to
avoid the probing eyes of females, who try to taunt them into looking up.
My arrest came to pass when I deliberately met the penetrating gaze of a
young woman in a moment of personal rebellion. The response from the police
was swift and sure, with two women officers throwing me to the ground,
cuffing and blindfolding me so that I could not “rape” anyone else, and
promptly transporting me to jail. I have been in custody ever since,
charged with a crime that carries a mandatory life sentence and castration.
The reason for the media hype was simple; today was the day that I was
scheduled to be cross-examined by the state. I had testified on my own
behalf the day before, with my own attorney asking a series of surprisingly
passive, dispassionate queries about my attitudes towards women. Although I
swore that I had never harbored any inappropriate sexual intentions towards
women, the all-female jury seemed largely unimpressed and even bored with my
discourse.
Today’s events would no doubt be different. The prosecutor had requested,
and the judge granted, permission to have me stripped naked in open court
for my testimony. Her intent, besides the obvious specter of public
humiliation, was to subject me to a demonstration that would prove the
necessity of “male management” laws by example both to the jury and a still
somewhat skeptical public. The waist and ankle restraints confining my
naked body were supposedly for my own protection during the demonstration,
but served as a significant psychological tool for the prosecutor.
All eyes were riveted to me as I was finally escorted into the courtroom.
I was not seated in a witness chair, but rather directed to stand in the
exact center of the room, in full view of the jury, judge, and both teams of
attorneys. A video camera was trained squarely on me to record my live
testimony for a global television audience. I was flanked on both sides by
armed bailiffs, powerful yet protective women who each held one of my arms
to help me maintain my balance during the ordeal I was about to endure.
The judge took her seat on the bench, glancing first towards me and then
the prosecutor. “Are we ready to begin, counselor?”
“Yes, your honor,” The prosecutor gathered together some papers on a
lectern looking me squarely and sternly in the eye. I compulsively glanced
away in deference and saw her smile slightly. She was an attractive,
professionally dressed woman of about thirty. She was of medium height and
build with ample breasts and honey colored shoulder length hair. She wore
a burgundy blazer and a mid-thigh length black miniskirt with a white
…End of the part1. To be continued..
his errant mouth then kissing him warmly. His hands fumbled
with the pearl buttons of her church blouse, feeling them move
lower and lower, until the shirt hung free around her. The bra
just as quickly unsnapped, and both fell to the floor. His
hands massaged her back up and down, until he leaned over her,
pressing her into the floor.
Mark broke off the kiss and reached for the cookies. Slowly, he
crumbled them along the center of her chest, watching them fall
against her glowing skin.
“Santa, you’re getting messy again. You really must clean up
after yourself.” She grinned at him. She watched him as his
head dipped down, licking up the crumbs slowly, his beard softly
rasping her skin. “Mmmmm, yes. Now, don’t miss any.” He looked
back up at her, his eyes twinkling in the firelight, and made a
show of licking very carefully between her breasts catching each
small crumb.
“Sorry-no milk there for the cookies. You’ll just have to get a
glass.” She grinned back. He answered her by nipping her
engorged nipple.
“Tease.” She sighed. “Is this my Christmas present?”
“Oh, no, it’s mine.” He licked another line up to the tip of
her breast catching the last of the cookies.
“While I love all this attention, this really isn’t very
comfortable, sweetheart.” She said wriggling against the carpet.
“Hold that thought,” as he got up and strode quickly to the
couch, removing the shams and the afghan they kept there for
chilly nights.
Gently, he lifted her head up and put the pillow under her.
The crumbs were gone, and she turned to her side. He laid down
beside her, pulling her naked back against his chest, then
wrapping the blanket around the both of them.
“I love you,” he murmured as they watched the fire. She pulled
his arm tighter around herself in response.
“The fire is nice. It’s almost hypnotic.” She said. “I could
almost sleep here, if the floor wasn’t so hard.” She added.
“I was thinking the same thing.” They listened to the crackle
of the fire, his hands gently caressing her abdomen and the
undersides of her breasts. She took his hand and brought it to
her lips, kissing it softly before returning it to its
wanderings.
“Lets put the air mattress down here next year. After the kids
go to bed, we’ll put it up, and sleep in front of the fire…a
new
Christmas tradition.”
“Will I be able to eat the cookies in bed?” he squeezed her.
“No crumbs in my bed!” she grinned, turning in his arms and
kissing his jaw.
“Actually, that would be nice…then I wouldn’t have to drag you
upstairs to give you your Christmas present, since you require
more comfort than the floor. You know, now that I think about
it, it would probably be safer too, with the fire and all.”
She nodded sleepily against him, “The kids are going to be up
at the break of dawn.”
He sighed, then stood up and placed the grate in front of the
fireplace.
“Did you put out Santa’s Letter?” she asked.
“Yep, right on the cookie plate, properly covered in cookie
crumbs.” He paused. “I’ll race you upstairs…and whoever wins
has
to give the other their Christmas present tonight.” He smirked.
“Oh, no. You promised me.” She giggled, tossing the pillows for
him to put up as she raced him up the stairs.
(A Secret Santa Story)
By Dryad (MF, Holiday)
Merry Christmas! If you aren’t old enough to vote, please find
something more suitable for you to read. These works pop out of
my own head, so unless you’re one of the voices in there, this
work is mine, just ask if you are interested. Comments Grovelled
for.
******
Written with much love for my buddy Wiseguy. Love you! I’m
glad you enjoyed it!
********
She quietly closed the door. It took two readings of “The
Polar Express”, one “Night before Christmas” and “The Fourth
Wise Man” to get the two wiggle worms to fall asleep.
Threatening that Santa wouldn’t come until they were asleep
didn’t seem to do any good.
“Mark, They’re asleep.” She stage whispered down the hall. “I
need your help bringing down the rest of the gifts.” She heard
him bound up the carpeted stairs, his long legs taking them
three at a time. She walked down the hall ahead of him into
their bedroom, where Santa’s presents were waiting in their
closet.
“Here. You take these, I’ve got these. One more trip should do
it.” They quietly carried the beribboned booty back down the
stairs.
“I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus….” Rang low through the stereo
speakers as they placed the presents carefully around the tree.
“You filled the stockings?”
“Mmhmm. Did you remember that present we hid in the office
closet? What possessed you to buy such a large one?”
She smiled at him. “Oh, stop being such a bah humbug.” He
grinned back.
“One more job to do!” He said with a salacious look on his face.
“What’s that?”
“Well, Santa needs to eat his milk and cookies.”
“Oh, Really?” she asked as he sat down in his recliner. She
took the plate off the mantel and straddled his lap.
“Which one would you like first?” her eyes twinkled
mischievously.
“That one.” He pointed. He took a bite as she held it out for
him. “Oh, wow. These are awesome, Kit. You have got to make
these again next year.”
She giggled as he dropped crumbs all down his front.
“Such a sloppy Santa. Do you need some help?”
With a twinkle in his eye, he answered, “Of course, are you
going to clean me up, Mrs. Claus?”
“Kitty Claus. I like the ring of that.”
Mark nearly snarfed. “My Kitty does not have claws. Come here…”
Mark pulled her down in front of the fire they’d built in the
fireplace. Some show the kids watched said that the fire needed
to be there, or Santa wouldn’t come. Since it was on TV of
COURSE it had to be true, but the fire was welcome. Mark placed
the cookies on the hearth before leaning back and wrapping his
arm around Kit. He nuzzled her ear and murmured, “The kids are
asleep.”
“Why Santa.” She grinned as she leaned into his oncoming kiss.
Her fingers came up to his jaw, stroking the beard as his tongue
flickered against her cheek. She turned in his embrace, catching
…End of the part1. To be continued..
Oh, and I work hard on my writing…so guess what? Its mine. That’s right boys and girls…its copyrighted…so if you want it? Just askJ we’ll talk.
Dryad
Dear Nancy,
Okay, I’m running out of “good” stationary and envelopes. So sue me. Or run off to Canada with me. Either way, I love you. You know that, but I’ll tell you again anyway. I LOVE YOU.”
The letter goes on, but she folds it closed. Her shoulders shudder slightly, breath hard to pull into her lungs. What a mess I’ve gotten myself into she thinks. The rest of the letter falls into her lap.
Nancy gazes out through the window. A nice house, nice yard. She hears her children playing outside on the swing. Daniel will be home soon. After being married for 9 years, she still loves him. But something stirs in her. I’m more than the sum of my parts! She cries out internally, though her face still holds the stoic, patient look it always does. She leans back in the kitchen chair and closes her eyes.
She met Ethan quite by accident. Friends goaded her into visiting a chat online. It was innocent fun, visiting with these people. Until Ethan. Ethan was- IS her soul mate. Never has anyone been so intuitive of her needs, any of them, and unstintly cherished and took care of them. But this was after Daniel.
So as any good wife, she fought it. God, did she fight. Her mantra became, he’s just a friend, he’s just a friend. But friends don’t talk of kissing like that. Or touching. His words became virtual caresses, touching her deep in her soul, until she no longer needed physical presence to make her cum harder than she ever had. But she kept making excuses in her mind. He’s so far away…its just harmless fantasy. But she knew it was becoming more real than any relationship she had.
Then the phone calls started. Then, suddenly, he was here. He was here so close he could be touched. And still, she tried to be good, even if it meant going against her heart. Until the second meeting. Her eyes flutter at the memory. Caution, certainly, but stolen touches… soft hands on smooth skin… whispered words of love-Kisses that went on forever and then some, the kind that enlarge your soul until you can no longer be concerned about anything but that moment in time…and certainly it seems longer than that. Even now, she can feel the tease of his tongue, the tenderness and depth of the love within that simple kiss.
She didn’t mean for this. She wars with herself. If things had been different, she would be with Ethan. No question. But things are as they are. And responsibilities and yes, love, are what she has. But there are so many different ways to love, and yes, even love romantically. Anyone who says you can’t love more than one person is either stingy, or close-minded. But she believes in promises. And lets face it, marriage is just one big promise. And she wars, why couldn’t I have waited? Or, why can’t I let him go? Or wondering if all her ideals are for nought, and she’s a fool for not grasping the brass ring.
She reads the end of the letter…
“I can’t do something temporary and meaningless. I’m too shy with strangers (yes, I am!) to do that. But anyway- I will always be yours. The deepest corners of my heart, where secrets are hidden even from me, will always find your name carved on their walls. Your mark is on my soul, and the mark will never disappear.”
Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2001
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