The City of Female Supremacy
I woke up in darkness, the rhythmic swaying of the floor telling me I was aboard a ship. Memories flickered: a beautiful woman, too much alcohol, and a sudden, sharp blow to my head. When I tried to move, I realized with a jolt of terror that I was naked and trapped inside a small iron cage. I screamed and fought against the bars until my voice failed me, left alone with the sound of the waves.
Eventually, a hatch opened, flooding the room with blinding light. Two women in tight black uniforms and towering heels dragged my cage up to the surface. I gasped as I saw where I had been brought: a sprawling, ultra-modern metropolis. This was the City of Female Supremacy, a place where women held absolute power and men were mere property.
I was dragged to a building labeled Slave Market. A stunning woman with a piercing gaze looked me over like livestock. When I demanded to be released, she silenced me with a single finger to her lips. “Nobody gave you permission to speak, slave,” she commanded. I was then wheeled through corridors where I saw other men in collars and chains, the air echoing with the sound of whips hitting flesh.
I was delivered to Room 120, the office of Dr. Hoffman. She was a mature woman with curly blonde hair and a stern expression behind her glasses. As I hurled insults at her, she remained unnervingly calm. With a swift movement, she injected me with a sedative that stripped me of my strength in seconds.
Powerless, I was strapped to a clinical chair. My arms and legs were splayed wide and locked in heavy shackles, a collar securing my head. I was completely exposed and immobile. “Now, we begin your medical examination,” she whispered with a perverse smile.
Dr. Hoffman donned latex gloves, the snap of the material echoing in the silent room. Ignoring my pleas, she used lubricated fingers to forcefully probe my anatomy, ensuring I was “prepared” for sale. To silence my screams, she stuffed a sponge into my mouth and bound it tight with cloth. The torture continued as she introduced a rubber dildo, penetrating me deeply while I gasped for air through my nose. She sealed the device inside me with adhesive tape, leaving me in a state of humiliated agony.
After a period of isolation, she returned to perform a harsh enema, flushing my system with clinical indifference. Finally, she shaved my groin with a razor and applied a stinging alcohol solution that made me writhe against my restraints.
“Listen carefully,” she said, delivering a sharp slap to my face. “You have no rights here. Your only obligations are to obey your mistress absolutely and never, ever raise a hand to a woman. Disobedience leads to the reformatory, where the punishments are far worse.” To emphasize her point, she covered my nose and mouth with her gloved hand, cutting off my oxygen until I nearly blacked out.
As she stepped away, the click of her heels signaled the end of my transition. She called for the guards to retrieve me. I was shoved back into the cage, stripped of my dignity and my freedom, ready to be sold to the highest bidder in a city where I was nothing more than a toy.