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Read previous Etrebor stories:
* The Etrebor Effect

* The Etrebor Trip
* The Etrebor Festival
* The Etrebor New Year

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The Etrebor Files, Entry 5

College was expensive, and Sophie wasn’t rich, so when she heard about the Etreborian scholarship program, she couldn’t say no.

Technically it was called the Adamu Zweha Gift, named after some past Etreborian leader.  It was an outreach program by the small but prosperous nation of Etrebor to build bridges, and what it did was offer a substantial payment towards college tuition to any student who studied the Etreborian language.

Sophie was good with languages – she already spoke English, French, and a little Mandarin – and although Etrebor had an international reputation for misogyny, based on its appalling treatment of women, she wasn’t too principled to take free money when it was offered.

She was surprised at just how unusual the Etreborian language was, though.  She knew that many languages had not just gendered pronouns, but gendered nouns, so that in French something as unsexual as a table was uniformly “la table” (feminine) rather than “le table” (masculine).

But Etreborian had entirely gendered modes of speech.  Speaking the language as a woman was different from speaking it as a man.  She was disappointed to find she wouldn’t even be taught the masculine mode properly, as it would be breaking an Etreborian taboo to let women speak in the male form, so she consented herself with learning what she was offered.

The course lecturer was a handsome, mature man by the name of Reth, and his lectures were engaging and accessible.  He was also very happy to meet with his students at any time to answer their questions, a facility which Sophie took advantage of frequently.

Her first such meeting was after her very first lecture.  She met him in his office, and attempted to greet him in Etreborian.  “Awathu a-hakel,” she said, awkwardly, which was intended to mean “I hope to bring you pleasure”, the standard greeting of an Etreborian woman to a man.

Reth frowned, and bade her to sit, which she did.  “Sophie,” he began, slowly, “I had intended to discuss this in my second lecture, but you must know that the Etreborian language is not just a system of words – it is a system of culture.  There are words which are holy, and words which are taboo, and to say the wrong words is not just an insult, but a blasphemy and a crime.  You understand that?”

“Yes,” said Sophie.  “I mean, I’m not fully across it, but the textbook mentioned that.”

“And beyond that, it is not just the words that are said, but who says them, and the manner in which they are said,” said Reth.

“Yes,” said Sophie, puzzled.

“A woman cannot speak the Etreborian language without accepting the culture of that language, and the consequences of it,” said Reth.  “If I am to teach you further, I must have your agreement that you accept that rule.  In truth, you already agreed when you signed up for this course, but I must hear it from you in person.”

Sophie didn’t understand.  “Yes,” she said.  “I’m learning the language, so I’m a part of the culture.”

“Very good,” said Reth, and nodded.  Then he stood up – and slapped Sophie across the face.

She gasped in shock, and drew back.  “What…” she began.

“Sophie, the female form of the Etreborian language is not just a series of words,” said Reth.  “The tense and meaning are modified by your body language.  Now, you just said what you intended to be ‘I hope to bring you pleasure’, but you said it while in the posture of the Doyenne – the confident stance of an administrator.  That would only be the appropriate posture to use while speaking to other women who you have authority over.  To speak that way to a man suggests that you are going to *force* him to have pleasure – which is a blasphemy, and it must be ritually answered by discipline, such as the slap you just received.”

“I’m sorry,” said Sophie, chastened.

“You should have spoken in the posture of the Nymph,” said Reth.  “to suggest you are eager to please, or the posture of the Slave, to suggest your opinion as to whether I receive pleasure from you is irrelevant.”

And he showed her the Nymph posture – shoulders back, tits thrust forward and cupped by her hands so as to offer them up, lips parted to suggest arousal, breathing quickly and shallowly, making eye contact.  “Awathu a-hakel,” she said again, and this time she heard the difference.  What had been a cheery greeting before now sounded like she was saying “fuck me, now”.

Reth laughed.  “Good girl,” he said.  “You may have a talent for this language!”

Over the following weeks, she continued her education in the language.  She perfected the Nymph posture, and learned the Slave – tits out, arms meeting behind the back as if cuffed, legs spread, eyes downcast.  (They had sitting versions too, she discovered.)  She learned the Doyenne, and the Child (for speaking to one’s male relatives, or men who a woman has made a fool of herself in front of). 

The last three postures were more difficult and embarrassing.  The Bitch required her to take a position on all fours, like a dog.  It was to be used at times when her existence was irrelevant – among groups of men talking amongst themselves; when she was alone, with no company; when her husband was dating or fucking another women and preferred to pretend she didn’t exist.  There were very few words it was permissible to say at all from the Bitch posture – but the most difficult one was that it required her cunt to be exposed. 

Learning the pose was essential to passing the course, and all the women in her class were required to do it – and did – but still, removing her panties and flipping up her skirt to Reth’s gaze was humiliating.  She felt good when he told her she was a good girl, though, and gave her full marks for her posture.

The next pose was the Cunt.  It was the pose for a women who was apologising, or in need of discipline, and it was the default pose of a woman talking to certain positions of leadership or religious authority.  It required her to be completely naked, her legs spread, and her fingers spreading her pussy open to inspection.  More than that, it required that she be *aroused*.  To speak in the Cunt posture without a wet pussy was a severe blasphemy.  It took Sophie some time to master it, and she hated that her demonstration of it to Reth was required to be videotaped for the college records.

And lastly, there was the Hole.   The Hole required only one precondition – that the woman have a man’s cock in her anus or vagina.  Words spoken in this posture automatically had an additional connotation suggesting the woman’s consent to whatever was being done to her, and certain words like “no” or “stop” could not be said in this posture at all.

To demonstrate this posture for the course, Sophie could have let *any* man put his cock in her cunt, and videotape it.  But she was shy, and embarrassed, and with only 24 hours left until it was time to submit her pose for assessment, she turned to Reth, and asked him if he could help.

He agreed immediately, and she shyly undressed, and soon he was sliding his cock inside her, and she discovered she was *very* wet.  The presence of his phone, recording his penetration of her, only made her feel hotter, and she moaned happily as he fucked her.

“Sophie,” he said, as he pumped in and out of her.  “I must ask you two things.”

“Anything,” she giggled, speaking Etreborian, as he fucked her.

“Firstly, my friends would very much enjoy seeing a girl like you being fucked by her professor,” he said.  “Do I have your leave to share it with them, so they may masturbate to it?”

Sophie tensed up.  No!  That was not okay!  She opened her mouth to say so – but “no” was a blasphemy in the Hole posture.  It was also a blasphemy to speak anything other than Etreborian.  “Kawath?” she hazarded, which was meant to mean “Please”, in the sense of “Please, no,” but in this posture it more correctly translated to, “Please degrade me, I consent.”

“Thank you,” said Reth.  “And secondly, I very much prefer it when the women I rape are in pain when I climax.  May I hurt you?”  (There was no distinction between “rape” and “consensual sex” in Etreborian.)

She was so shocked and betrayed by this that she felt herself cry a little – but crying in the Hole posture was a sign of arousal and enjoyment.  “Jaha gaazi hathla?” she asked, which should have meant, “Why are you doing this?”, but was modified by her posture to mean, “Why are you doing this, when I consent to you abusing me for your pleasure even more?”

“Excellent,” smiled Reth.  He was fucking her from behind, so he reached under her, grabbed one of her tits in each hand, and began to yank on them, using them to pull her backwards against his cock, causing her agonising pain on each thrust.  She started to weep, and as she thus shared her enjoyment and desire with him, he fucked her harder, and pulled on her tits harder, and soon she felt him judder to a stop as he orgasmed and spurted his cum into her womb.

He pulled out, wiped his cock clean on her face, and then said, “Now cum.  Cum, or you fail the course.”

Still weeping, Sophie began to masturbate.  It was the only acceptable Etreborian response to a command from a male to orgasm.  She pumped Reth’s seed up inside her with her fingers, and desperately fingered her clitoris, and soon she was cumming, shaking and moaning with shame and violation.

“You have passed this assessment,” said Reth.  “And the video captures your consent, offered in Etreborian.  Well done, Sophie.”  He smiled, and despite her violation, she couldn’t help but feel a little happy to receive praise.

Over the following weeks, Sophie threw herself into study and tried to forget her violation – even as she began to see groups of men watching something on their phones, and laughing, and looking at her meaningfully, and she felt sure they must be watching the video of her rape.

The Etreborian language had many little tricks to it.  As she had recently been reminded, there was no distinction in the language between rape and consensual sex – it was all “rape”, and it was all good.  However, there were different words for “enjoyable rape”, “punishment rape”, “impregnation rape” and “disappointing rape”.  The word for “disappointing rape” was also an insult when used to describe a woman, and one of the most nasty that could be used against her.

The word for “female cow” was the same word as “female human”, except that the term “human” specifically only included males.  Men could denote the difference between a cow on two legs or one on four legs by making a little laughing sound as they said it – the laughter meant it referred to a human woman.  The female version of the language offered no way to distinguish.

Certain adjectives were gendered, and restricted to their genders.  The words “intelligent”, “powerful”, “free”, and “important” could only be used to describe men, for example, while the words “stupid”, “worthless”, “bad” and “obedient” could only ever describe women. 

Parts of the female anatomy were described in terms of their use to man.  The word for a woman’s mouth was, literally, “face cunt”, although “face toilet” and “cock cleaner” were also acceptable synonyms.  There was literally no way in the language to describe that part of her without using one of those words.  Her breasts were “rape handles”, although it was also acceptable to call them “udders” or “punching bags”.  Her cunt was the “impregnation hole”, although “cock sleeve” and “cum toilet” were synonyms.  And her anus was her “brain hole”, which confused Sophie until she learned that the word for the female brain was the same word as for shit.

The word for “feminist” was made up of the words meaning “cow who needs raping”.  Sophie hadn’t quite understood that derivation, which caused her a problem when she went to Reth’s office to express some concerns about the course.

“I’m feeling really weird,” she told Reth.  “I don’t like thinking in Etreborian.  It’s like it’s restructuring my thoughts (Etreborian: “head noise”).  I saw a picture of a cow the other day and it took me a full minute to realise it wasn’t the same kind of thing that I am.  I put a carrot in my face cunt this morning and I started just sucking on it like it was a cock (Etreborian: “divine happiness fountain”), and I couldn’t even work out what was wrong at first, because I’d forgotten that eating was something that my face cunt was for.”

“Is there a problem with this?” asked Reth, coolly.

“Yes!” she said. “It’s misogynistic!”  (In Etreborian, “the holy way”.)  “I’m a feminist!”  (Cow who needs raping.)

“Yes,” said Reth, “you definitely are.”  And before she knew what was happening, Reth was ripping off her clothes, and shoving his cock into her impregnation hole, and she tried to tell him to stop, except she couldn’t say “stop”, and what she actually ended up doing was enthusiastically screaming her consent and begging him to slap her across her face cunt if it would make him cum harder.

She ended up passing the unit – she was a good student, despite everything – but shortly thereafter she discovered she was pregnant.

She went back to Reth to tell him.  She didn’t know why.  It just seemed right.  Nor did she quite know why she took the Cunt pose in front of him – nude, her pussy spread open.

“I’m sorry, my lord and master,” she said in Etreborian.  “I have fallen pregnant.”  (Literally: “Because I am an animal, I have docilely let myself be bred.”)

“Well, this is wonderful, Sophie,” said Reth enthusiastically.

“It is?” asked Sophie dully.  “You want to be a father?”

“Oh no,” said Reth.  “The baby is your problem.  As you are well aware, in Etrebor, rape is always the woman’s fault, and any resulting pregnancy is entirely her difficulty to deal with.”  He smiled.  “But now you can demonstrate the Eighth Posture, Sophie!”

“The Eighth Posture?” she asked, confused.

“The Breeding Sow!” he said.  “You adopt that posture merely by being pregnant.”

She didn’t understand.  “How does it modify language?” she asked.

“In the Eighth Posture,” said Reth, “it no longer matters what the woman says at all.  If she is alone, no Etreborian will admit to understanding her.  If she is in the presence of a responsible male, the responsible male may interpret her random mooing in any way he chooses.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sophie.

“Why, yes, Sophie!” said Reth.  “I *would* like to rape you!”  He strode towards her, kicked aside her discarded clothes (Etreborian: “slut decoration”), and pushed her down over his desk.  She felt his happiness fountain push forcefully into her insemination hole.

“That’s not what I said!” she protested.

“That’s an excellent idea, Sophie,” said Reth.  “We’ll take you down to the government registry immediately after this, with my cum still dripping from your insemination hole, and have you formally change your name to something Etreborian – the Breeder Fuckbags zol Reth would be appropriate.  Then I’ll marry you – not as my first wife (Etreborian: “house cow”), but as a slave wife.  Your duties will involve being a prostitute and toilet for my guests.  There’s an Etreborian sympathiser I know in the registry that will be happy to let me translate for you.” 

He smiled.

“I’m so glad you’re consenting to all of that,” he said.  “Really, Sophie, you did turn out to be *very* good at learning Etreborian…”

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