Politics
The U.S. senator Brianna Williams has had another busy day. Ever since the dawn of the Great Female Takeover, legislation had been in a constant state of evolution. She prided herself personally playing a big part in how her own country had adapted to the natural inferior nature of the male. Always a proponent of limiting male rights, she had never doubted that the woman's right to choose was the single most important issue of modern times.
Honestly, so many other countries had already gone a lot further in subjugating the male. She was embarrassed sometimes when talking to colleagues overseas. She envied the brutal efficiency many of them had shown. But she yet believed in her country. She would make sure that in the near future it would be the best place in the world for the woman. A land where the male cast their eyes down in terror in front of her. Where she was seen as a Goddess compared to his lowly, crude form.
Did she hate men? Of course not! They could be most adorable. (Well, boys, to be exact. While the male was still fresh. While he was still beautiful.) Yes, she availed herself to beautiful boys all the time. She quite enjoyed their lowly form, the useful and fun aspects of their anatomy. It was simply that the male was a creature unable to live and independent life. A male belonged to the woman, to bring her joy, to serve her. Any other purpose he might have one had was in the past. He was the past. The present was female.The future would be even more so!
It was her mission statement that she would not rest until the male was declared an object. Granting them "rights" was an insult to woman's autonomy! She should be able to do whatever she pleased with him. It was why he existed.
And Brianna certainly practiced what she preached.
She looked at the naked young darling by her desk, waiting for her command. Her newest intern assistant. So beautiful, so sexy on his knees. Nice body. The way a male ought to be. Gagged, of course, while his mouth served no purpose.
She looked him up and down. Lovely complexion. He would look good all striped red from cane. The look of pain would be so sexy on that pretty face.
Yes, she had earned some hours of relaxation after working so hard (she had of course availed herself to his glib tongue throughout the day: she found cunnilingus helped her to focus), finishing a bill including severe restrictions in punishments for male sexual deviance (namely failing to please a woman, or refusing her) and the final annulment of the idea of "male rape" (ridiculous concept! His body was property by nature. If he tried to resist, they should give the woman "raping" him a fucking medal!), more tax cuts to private prisons and other institutions of correction, and to companies developing important technology for the control of the male and for the increased pleasure and amusement derived from him. Important things, furthering her agenda step by step.
In short, she was rather pleased with herself.
She slowly fondled the cane, giving the boy a certain look, saying nothing. He was not to look away from her. She enjoyed the dread in his eyes. She took her time. This was almost the best moment. Before he knew how much it would hurt this time.
She was feeling a bit mean today. Extra horny.
So it would hurt a lot.