In the photo, Kiara knelt in front of a man’s cock, gazing up in adoration at its owner. Her mouth was open, and fresh sperm was drooling from the tip of her tongue down onto her naked tits. Her expression was blank, lustful, stupid.
The photo was thirty feet high, projected across the wall behind Kiara, to an audience of hundreds of feminists, at the keynote speech of the National Conference on Women’s Rights. The shocked murmurs of the assembled women made Kiara glow bright red. She wasn’t sure what was more humiliating – the photo, or the title of her speech, superimposed above it: “The Essence of Female Thought.”
Kiara had built a career in feminist academic speaking, fighting for the rights and independence of women, and now, in a shaking voice, she was launching into a thirty minute talk on how women were essentially milk-producing herd animals biologically designed to sexually please men.
“The female brain is fundamentally geared towards making ourselves appealing and submissive to men so that men might ejaculate in one of our holes,” she said. Under her dress, there were vibrating clamps on each of her nipples, a vibrator in her fuckhole, and a plug in her ass. There was wet cum drying on her tits. “The women – or, more accurately, human cows – who are successful at getting men to rape them go on to breed. Those who are not, do not. Thus we select for ever more sexually appealing, stupid, and submissive females.” She herself had been raped the night before, in her hotel. He had entered her room with a cloned key, and bound her to her bed. But he had not fucked her immediately. Instead he had injected powerful aphrodisiacs into her tits with a syringe, and watched as she grew more and more uncontrollably aroused. When he released her, she was begging desperately to be fucked. He obliged, vigorously.
If that had been all, he might have left, and she might have slept a guilty, confused, but satisfied sleep and presented her speech the next day normally. But he took her phone from her, and looked through it, and of course he found her photo gallery – the hours of video footage of her sexual encounters with dozens of women, many of them also prominent feminist academics, all of them taped without those women’s knowledge or consent, for her own private collection. He smiled as he copied them to his own phone.
If those videos went on the internet, those women would know who had secretly videoed them, and who had likely released them. In a best case scenario, she would lose friends, and everyone who knew her would have access to videos of her naked and 69ing other women. In a worst case scenario, there would be a criminal investigation. She could go to jail.
He started by making her beg to suck his cock, and as she sucked, he outlined her new career. She would now centre her academic work on proving that women were inherently submissive rapedolls. She would give speeches and talks to whoever would listen and illustrate them with photos from her own sex life. She would continue seducing and filming women and provide him with those films. She would make herself sexually available to anyone, male or female, who was interested in her. “No” was no longer in her sexual vocabulary. She would be stuffed with a butt plug, active vibrator, and have her nipples clamped at all public appearances.
“And that is why,” she finished, blushing red, in front of the horrified crowd, “women are just toys for men to fuck. If anyone would like me to demonstrate my theory, please feel free to contact me after I leave the stage…” And with those words she felt herself publicly orgasm, and she knew that everything she had just said was true.
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