They caught Scarlett naked, with her tongue buried deep in the snatch of her female lover. They dragged her away nude, her hands cuffed behind her back, as she screamed curses at them, and all of the patriarchy they served.


There had always been a war for political supremacy between man and woman. But the slow rise of the Church of Jesus Christ Our Master had tipped the balance forever. It had started among female Hollywood celebrities – a sexy new brand of Christianity for rich women with a taste for D/s. It was based on a new translation of the Bible which claimed to have found many more suggestions for the “true place” of women, and which revealed Jesus to have engaged in some extremely erotic encounters with Mary Magdalene and other female followers.

The Church preached female submission to men – both domestically, politically, and sexually – and its celebrity following and air of taboo naughtiness made it an instant cultural phenomenon. Its Hollywood adherents arranged for movies to be made espousing its ideas. Worshippers were elected to political office, and used their views to inform their policies.

“A woman betraying her gender is the highest form of submission to the Lord,” preached the Church, and its most devout followers were said to be able to orgasm hands-free from the mere act of advocating for women to become the legal property of men.

In this new culture, the status of women declined. Rape was legalised. Workplace sexual harassment was normalised and encouraged. Lesbianism that excluded men was made a punishable crime. Feminism was outlawed.

Schoolgirls were taught only the skills necessary for them to become good fuckslaves for men when they reached adulthood. All popular culture emphasised the submission of women to their male masters.

Resistance against the new order was limited to small cadres of female terrorists, meeting in secret, striking from camouflaged bases in the countryside. They consisted largely of lesbians and feminists – two of the most insulting things a woman could be called, in the new order – and their actions were desperate, violent, and merciless.

Scarlett Boyd headed one such group – the Californian Furies. They had been disrupting government operations for nearly four years, as police hunted for them in vain, but when they took their violence to a new level and succeeded in assassinating a male politician with a car bomb, they were betrayed by one of their own, who was so disgusted with the idea of literally *killing* one of the men that women were intended to serve that she cut a deal with authorities – she sold out Scarlett Boyd, and in return her life sentence of sexual torture would be commuted to a mere three years, after which she would be incarcerated on a breeding farm.

And that was how they found Scarlett, sluttily engaged in forbidden lesbianism, and completely defenceless.


They turned her over to the Church. They could have executed her, or sentenced her to a life of sexual torture, but the propaganda value of *converting* her was too big to pass up.

The Church headquarters in Los Angeles was large, opulent – yet it still stood, appropriately, in the shadow of the men’s cathedral. A large fountain by its front steps depicted a robed, commanding Jesus Christ pissing into the mouth of a kneeling, nude, Mary Magdalene, who gazed up at him adoringly as she swallowed his urine and masturbated.

Scarlett was dragged inside the church, still nude and bound, to the office of Holy Daughter Abigail, the highest ranking female in the Church hierarchy. She wore something like a traditional nun’s outfit, but she stood on high heels, and the front of the dress was fully open to respectfully bare her shaved pussy and big, enhanced bimbo tits.

“Scarlett Boyd,” said the Holy Daughter, musing. “So the little dyke terrorist whore comes to us at last, on her knees, as she should have been all along. Are you ready to learn to serve man, like the animal you are?”

“Fuck you,” spat Scarlett, looking up at the Holy Daughter defiantly. “And fuck all men.”

“Fuck *all* men?” laughed the Holy Daughter. “How ambitious! Why don’t you start with one or two, and see how you go?” And before Scarlett could react, Abigail stepped forward and kicked the feminist terrorist in the cunt with the toe of her black leather high heels.

Scarlett’s eyes watered, but she found the strength to spit again.

“Take her away,” said the Holy Daughter, to Scarlett’s guards. “Put her on the usual course of drugs. I want her tits swollen, lactating and painful. I want her pussy uncontrollably dripping wet. And I want her ready to breed.”


From that point on, Scarlett’s days were a nightmare.

She was kept in a small dog cage, naked, kept on all fours by dildos at the front and back of the cage that penetrated her mouth and pussy respectively. There was no room to get off the dildos, and no way to get them out of her, until the cage was opened each morning, and she soon learned to sleep on all fours with cocks in her mouth and cunt.

Each morning she was hosed clean, and then taken to a bedchamber, where Holy Daughter Abigail would personally begin to lick Scarlett’s pussy.

“I’m not a bit attracted to women,” the Holy Daughter assured Scarlett. “I’m not a disgusting dyke like you. The idea of sexual activity with another woman is repellent to me, so whenever I lick your pussy like this, it feels like I’m being raped and violated myself. That’s why I do it. A woman *should* feel raped and violated. And of course, we record all this for the entertainment of the men in the real church.”

Holy Daughter Abigail was talented with her tongue, and Scarlett’s church-mandated course of drugs left her naturally horny at the best of times, so Scarlett inevitably responded quickly to Abigail’s ministrations. And just as Scarlett was on the verge of orgasm – and Abigail seemed to have a sixth sense for telling when this was – a man would enter the room, plunge his naked, erect cock into Scarlett’s twat, and rape her until he ejaculated.

Scarlett would always scream and struggle when this happened, but also, given how her cunt had been primed by the drugs and by Abigail’s tongue, she would orgasm, filling with shame at the knowledge she was cumming against a man’s cock.

She learned that the man would not appear and rape her until she was near to orgasm, so she began trying to avoid becoming aroused from Abigail’s tongue. She began to associate having her cunt licked with fear, and she began to struggle and buck when Abigail came near her. 

Now Abigail began to substitute her own tongue for that of other women. Girls would be brought in to lick Scarlett’s pussy. None of them looked like they were there willingly. Abigail told Scarlett that some were other feminists or freedom fighters; that Scarlett was participating in their rape by letting them lick her pussy. Scarlett wept, and struggled, but she was bound, and the girls were pretty, and she would get wet, and then be raped by a man. And soon it wasn’t just Abigail she feared, but sex with women generally.

As the women licked Scarlett, and then as the man raped her, Abigail would sit in front of Scarlett, holding eye contact with her, and tell her why this was happening to her.

“God created all animals to serve man, including woman,” she said. “You are nothing but an animal for man to breed, Scarlett. Patriarchy is the natural order, and it is your job to serve it as a submissive fuckpig. You were mistaken in thinking that your sexual preference for women mattered. It doesn’t matter what you would like, sexually. It only matters what men would like. You are a disgusting little dyke slut, and we are going to fix you, with corrective rape, and turn you into a good little heterosexual breeder.”

Scarlett’s tits began to swell over time, and soon milk was dripping from her nipples. Abigail introduced Scarlett to the way she would be “milked” – which is to say, by kneeling in front of a wooden board, placing her udders flat upon the board, and then having them whipped hard with a leather belt so that milk squirted from them into a waiting bucket. She would be allowed to masturbate during this process, as she screamed and cried – and once again, as she neared orgasm, a man would enter, and rape her.

When it was over, Abigail would remind her that this had happened because she was a woman, born with udders, and it was the natural state of women to have pain in their udders.

By the end of a month, a switch had flipped in her head. Her days in the Church were hell, and it occurred to her that the only time she felt really, truly happy, was when she was orgasming. It didn’t matter it was a kind of chemically-induced happiness. She began to look forward to her daily rape as the best part of her day. 

Soon she no longer even needed a girl’s tongue to get her ready. Her cunt began to obediently juice up as the hour of her rape approached, which neatly offset the fact that she was becoming increasingly less aroused by sex with women.

She attended “female inferiority” classes along with other captured rebels. Here she was shown pictures of naked women doing incredibly disgusting, slutty things – drinking cum from a bowl, licking the rim of a toilet, copulating with a dog – and was asked to defend the essential dignity and humanity of these women. When she tried, the course instructor would kick her in the cunt and punch her tits. Increasingly, she would merely say that the women had no humanity, and deserved to be raped, and receive an approving pat on the head from the course instructor, and after a while she couldn’t remember what she would have said in any case. These women were clearly nothing but disgusting fuckpigs – and she knew that she was absolutely the same.

No one ever used her name. They just called her “dyke” and “lesbian” and “feminist” and “cunt-licker”, and they did it with such contempt and cruelty in her voice that she began to see all four words as foul insults. She did everything she could to not seem like a feminist or a lesbian. She even began to spontaneously offer to suck her guards’ cocks, just to show that she wasn’t a lesbian, and they graciously agreed.

She fell pregnant, of course, and from that point on her hands were kept bound behind her back when she wasn’t required to travel anywhere, so that she couldn’t control or interfere with her own breasts, pussy or belly. The rapings didn’t stop, and the guards now required her to crawl everywhere on all fours, in what they said was the best position for a pregnant woman.

She now occasionally took part in the rape of newly captured dykes and feminists. They didn’t make her – they just asked her if she’d like to, and Scarlett was so eager to prove that she was a good little heterosexual that she immediately said yes, and got great satisfaction from seeing the pain and humiliation on the faces of these girls as the men fucked them. She no longer got any particular pleasure from licking these girls’ pussies, but it was enough for Scarlett to know that men wanted her to do it, and that it was contributing to the rape of these disgusting lesbians.

Holy Daughter Abigail had her record videos for the baby she was carrying, which she said would also be used in Scarlett’s many future pregnancies. The videos would be played to the child when it reached sexual maturity, as a message from their mother – for of course, Scarlett could not yet be trusted to raise a child herself.

For a possible girl child, Scarlett recorded a video telling her future daughter, “Please know that your mummy knows that you are a disgusting slut. All I ever want for you in life is to be repeatedly raped by men and bear their children. Like all women, you are nothing but a stupid animal, and if I were there with you, I would rape you myself for the entertainment of men.”

For a boy child, Scarlett instead recorded a message urging her son to rape as many women as possible. “All women are cunts, and lesbians like me are the worst cunts of all,” she said to the camera. “I wish you were here to enforce the natural order by raping me as I deserve.”

They filmed Scarlett giving birth. The former lesbian was nude, her legs in birthing stirrups, her huge swollen tits, leaking milk, as Abigail skillfully rubbed Scarlett’s clitoris, keeping her aroused so that she would orgasm repeatedly from the process of delivering her child. Scarlett babbled constantly through the pain of delivering, reciting every slutty, disgusting fantasy she had ever had, plus some even more whorish ones she had made up for the occasion.

The video would be included with the package to one day be provided to her child, of course, but it was also broadcast nationally, so that the few remaining lesbian terrorists would know what would inevitably befall them when they were captured.

And as she gave birth to her child, Scarlett cried. Not from the pain. Not from the fact that her baby – a girl – was taken away from her, to be raised by a man. Not even from the humiliation.

She cried because Abigail said they were going to give her cunt a full week to recover from childbirth before they put her back on her usual program.

And a week without being raped was the worst thing that Scarlett could possibly imagine.


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