The Accidental Gynarchy Ch 05 08

Part Two

Chapter Five -- The Garden of New Eden

In which we fast forward a few years into Eden's New Garden State...

Citizen Dorothy randomly flitted between the brightly lit mall shops. She'd given herself a tight deadline of three hours to get to her appointment at the far end, but there was just too much shopping to be had in between. What was a girl to do?

I need another slave,

she brooded.

There was a public auction later, but she hadn't planned on attending. Most of the men coming through these days were far too old and only really suitable for the factory farms. Although disappointing, it meant that the war against the Southern Combine was concluding favourably.

She decided she might as well go along and see what her options were. The alternative was to go on safari across the border with Yankistan, and hunt for males to catch and keep. She smirked at the memories of the last time she did that.

So much mounting,

she sighed wistfully.

She glanced at her watch.

Fuck.

She had three minutes to get to the ice cream parlour and there were like a half dozen shops in the way, four of which sold pastries and coffee.

It's a fucking nightmare,

she thought, annoyed at the pressure, but more importantly at the profound loss of having missed spending opportunities. She inched forwards like a petulant child.

The parlour was brightly lit, being all rainbows and sparkles. The store front had the words 'Cococum, by Eden' emblazoned across it in bright red neon. Dorothy felt her pussy quake in anticipation and her pulse quicken.

There's simply nothing like being stuffed senseless with a quality ice cream,

she thought.

There were other chains of course, but Cococum was the original and best. Society had been revolutionised pretty much overnight and once the new power structures bedded in, everyone was chill and let's be frank, having a fucking great time. Well, except for the weird fundamentalists and other cable news viewers that fled south, that was.

Dorothy stepped through the wide and welcoming entranceway into the glass-walled shop.

"Darling so lovely to see you!" squeaked Mar the store manager, as she rushed over to hold Dorothy. They kissed, and their tongues lingered in a delicate entanglement. Mar flushed, turned on by Dorothy's presence, high station and wealth. She continued breathlessly, "I missed you at the Women's Day races? Is everything okay?"

"Sorry Mar, it clashed with my slave bonding and I couldn't put it off. I do them all together and I'm in no fit state afterwards."

Mar smiled. "You're so old school. I just cum into the Roomba and it takes care of the rest. Frees me up for work as I don't have much time otherwise. The slave doesn't seem to notice the difference and besides, it keeps him hungry in other ways, you know?"

"Yeah, I know, I know. Maybe I'll ease up one day, but I find there's so much more with the human touch. I'm fully paid up to the Beat Back Better school of mastery."

"Well, I can always dream, but I did miss you. I was rather hoping we could finally spend some quality time together... I thought we could take off on some ponies and... have a forest lunch."

"Yummy! I'd love a long ride with you," she said, knowingly.

Mar trembled and forgot to breathe before catching herself. "Hit me up when you can darling, I'm always available to you, 24/7. Meanwhile... I was able to reserve George for today's session as requested. You'll be his first today, it's a special treat, from me to you. So how do want him? Topsy or turvy?"

"Oh that's so kind of you! So thoughtful... So... So very seductive of you," she laughed.

Mar played out her best 'I don't know what you could possibly mean' impression.

"But I'm definitely in the mood for a bit of topsy," she finished.

Mar waved Dorothy towards the waiting therapy couch. George, ever the diligent alpha slave, had already draped his smooth, ripped nakedness across the cool leather. He looked to the ceiling mirror in excited anticipation. Mar followed over and firmly strapped him into place and checked his stim collar, then lowered the couch so Dorothy could easily slide on when ready.

"What's your flavour today, darling?"

"I honestly don't know, Mar. I was thinking maybe a slow and easy Pralines and Cream, but I find it repeats a little and sometimes gives me night terrors. Any suggestions? Anything new?"

There was a loud, guttural scream from across the room, followed the deep grunting of release into another transcendentally satisfied customer.

"Well, " began Mar oblivious to the orgasms filling up the room and flooding into the mall outside, "we have this new one called Mayan Sacrifice that I was going to suggest anyway, which is a velvety mix of thigh-crushed strawberries in a sticky rich syrup with crunchy chocolate body part shapes."

Dorothy looked at Mar with a glint in her eye. "Isn't that a bit close to...

Phish Food?

"

Mar's face went beet red. She spoke softly. "We don't push that sort of

filth

here. All our products are quality assured and thoroughly tested on caged control populations. I can assure you it's nothing like that abomination. Besides, that's illegal,

as you well know

."

"Okay, okay, but it's the chocolate bits that concern me? That's like, you know, like adding in a sprinkle of 'hundreds and thousands' for the innocent fun of it all, and like, we all know where that inevitably ends?"

"Fuck no. We're a clean establishment. If you want that, you know where the backstreets are."

She further clarified: "The body parts are made from the blandest milk chocolate we could source. I believe the science team used Cadbury's to comply with health and safety."

"Ah, Cadbury's. That's technically not chocolate then, so it's fine," Dorothy nodded in understanding, and was keen to move beyond the awkwardness of the moment. "Okay Mar, you've sold me, I'm up for my first ever Mayan Sacrifice!"

"Wonderful news darling!" she said with palpable relief, then reached into the couch-side mini freezer. She pulled out a fresh tub of Eden's latest and began thoroughly coating Georges painfully erect cock. "When you've used and emptied him to your satisfaction..." she paused and swallowed hard, "I'll fill you up with the rest of the tub myself."

Dorothy grinned. Mar had been hitting on her for months and had finally crossed that line from submissive ideation into slave reality; ice cream backfill was a slave's task. She decided to test a delicious theory and maybe save a trip to the auction.

Changing up a gear, she hardened her tone. "When you do that for me, I require

your

cum to be in the mix, and not the slave's."

Mar stilled and flushed again, trying to keep control of her conflicting emotions. She'd played this over in her mind again and again. At first she'd thought it a passing fantasy, but the more she got off to it, the more it became her truth, her need. And now finally, her reality.

The moment drew out as Dorothy eyed her intently. She saw the raw spread of emotions playing out across her face; the lust, desire and a clear, underlying fear at what she was crawling herself into. It was that dichotomy of needs that proved so sweetly compelling.

Dorothy broke the silence in a low but clear voice. "I will end your social contract after I leave the mall. You will swipe right to submit to my ownership when the release emoji comes your way. Then you'll go to your flat for the last time and 'take the Vanilla' with your slave. Both of you will attend my residence this evening promptly at 8pm dressed in greysuit, with neither possession nor familial keepsakes."

She paused in thought, then continued: "You are aware I auctioned off my last handmaiden after only three months of her pitiful service?"

Mar bit the side of her lip and looked down to her feet, her knees turning inwards slightly and her world spinning about her.

"I do. I was biding my time and hoping for this moment," she whispered under laboured breathing. Her tummy was performing back flips and she felt giddy. Adrenalin pulsed through her trembling flesh.

"I see. Then your servitude begins now. Formal binding and high collaring will be this evening, but only if you perform today's parlour duties correctly."

"Yes... mistress," she responded, her eyes wide and glistening.

Dorothy paused again, assessing her. It was such a shame to lose a friend, but at least the sex would be great! She followed her gut feeling and said quietly, "Have you ever been exposed to pure Cococum before?"

Mar's eyes juggled between sockets. Cococum was reserved exclusively for the elites. Chocolate ice cream was a controlled substance in New Eden due to its mind-bending effects. In the chaotic early days of the Great Transition, the dark chocolate-fuelled Mint Choc Chip Counter Revolutionaries nearly usurped control. It was only after their disastrous three-way confrontation with the unified Rum Raisin Radicals and Butter Pecan Sundae Brigade that Eden finally put an end to all of their atrocities, and outlawed that shit altogether. The upside of that dark time was the cementing of the New Eden Garden State and the formation of the elite Cococumando corps.

"No, mistress. I've only served it to those such as yourself, because I'm not a citizen."

"Good. A pure Cococum binding is absolute and unbreakable. It dissolves all ego and you'll be completely enthralled and only concerned with my protection and well-being. The person known as Mar will cease to be and you'll be subsumed. There's no going back, not even a full intercourse of supermarket vanilla can undo it. Not even -- and I know it's a Class One -- not even Kraft Mayonnaise."

Mar desperately tried not to orgasm at the thought of that sweet oblivion. She diverted herself with the mental amazement at just how powerful Cococum was. Public information about controlled substances was very limited. She'd heard wild stories that the religious fundamentalists inoculated themselves by regularly fucking jars of mayo, but clearly Cococum would win out eventually.

"Undress me, slave."

-

Chapter Six -- Eden's Mayan Sacrifice

In which Dorothy feasts before the gods and Mar tastes her future.

Mar needed to cum, but instead moved closer to her mistress and began lovingly unhooking her scanty jewel encrusted garments. Aside from evening and winter furs, the lack of body covering was reserved for society's most powerful, and ironically, the slave classes. For everybody else: ill-fitting floral pantsuits.

She savoured her mistress' sweet cinnamon fragrance, then retreated and neatly folded her clothes onto the side table. Dorothy interrupted her mid-flow.

"Hand me my thong."

Mar did as she was commanded and waited expectantly, conscious of the growing wetness between her own legs.

Dorothy turned it inside out, so the still-warm inner fabric was exposed and the diamonds and pearls pointed within.

"Kneel," she commanded.

Mar knelt and without prompting, smoothly assumed the Nadu position. In her fantasies, her mistress would then straddle and hotly grind her face until she came.

Dorothy was secretly thrilled by this unexpectedly reverent behaviour. Her intuition had been right when she'd offered the Cococum initiation.

"Open," she commanded, and Mar opened her mouth, tilting backwards. Dorothy leaned across and released a string of saliva, promptly followed by the balled thong.

Mar was unable to conceal her wide smile. Finally, she knew the earthy scent and flavour of her Mistress, even though it was merely the taste of her Mistress' anticipation.

Dorothy spied one of Mar's co-workers gawking at the recent developments. She caught her eye and tilted her head in firm challenge. The assistant quickly looked away and carried on attending to her client.

Jealousy, she thought, and made a mental note of the face. A jealous slave is an auctioned slave and a wasted investment of her time.

She returned her focus to Mar. She had high hopes for this one. She was in need of a committed handmaiden to help manage all of her slaves. The blossoming darkness around her pantsuit crotch made her all the more delightful.

"Wait until you're needed, slave."

Mar looked up with her big eyes, dazed and slightly apprehensive. Dorothy knew everything would resolve for her the moment she was collared and bound for the rest of her days.

Dorothy positioned herself across George's prone form. The ice cream was still firmly packed around his rigidity and she moved across the peak of his nakedness. The cold, almost searing kiss upon her pussy lips tingled all the way up her spine and spread out across her body like the unfolding of an angel's wings. The crackling feel of electricity bumping across her skin was delicious.

Slowly at first, she lowered and then raised herself, easing her pleasure and savouring the moment.

The unexpected developments with Mar had heated her already. She felt that familiar rising joy that non-citizens mistook for aggression. Her left hand shot out to George's throat and his stim collar. She moved the discreet slider from the 'open' position to 'fully blocked'. There was no way she was going to risk him cumming before the collar's fail-safe kicked in and facilitated his primal purpose in society. The longer he was denied, the greater her final ecstasy would be, as was right and proper.

Her hand shifted upwards and forcefully clamped his throat. If he were her own slave, that wouldn't have been the only thing being painfully clamped.

She took him all the way in for the first time. Like the other alpha slaves, George was well suited to her physical requirements. She screwed her eyes up in pleasure as she fully conjoined, and began to gently rock backwards and forwards. George was unable to move due to the straps, but desperately wanted thrust back. Of all the workers and citizens that fucked and semi-bound him day in and day out, it was only Dorothy he lost his mind over.

She could feel the ice cream working a little of its Mayan magic upon her, but without George's cum sacrifice she wouldn't be able to embrace the gods and renew her strength. He was the only slave she'd ever fucked that could push her that high with parlour ice creams. If George hadn't been owned by Eden, and thus technically by Her Holiness Queen Eve (praise be upon her), she would have asserted privilege long before now.

She increased rhythm and delighted in the press of his hardness inside of her. As she rode him back and forth, his cock alternately tapped against her g-spot and then pushed against her swollen clitoris, spurring her on, faster and deeper. George groaned in sweet agony.

"Breasts," she gasped and within seconds Mar sprang up and shifted behind her to cup them, lift them and circle her fingers around her stiff, bronzed nipples.

She pinched both of them together and her mistress gasped. Touching mistress within the intimacy of her pleasure made Mar ache for release. She knew that the harder she came for mistress later, the deeper their initial connection would be. It could even be the difference between being retained or released.

Dorothy felt a flame burning deep within. It was the fire that only George could fully ignite. It was a sweetness, like a smearing of honey inside of her abdomen. Long-ago she'd learned how to flow with that flame and to be consumed by it. The trick, she had discovered, wasn't to grab at the pleasure, but rather to relax and become one with it, being diametrically opposite to her natural reflex. Taking or snatching at something implied lack, and when dealing with transcendental orgasm, only fullness could plumb the waiting depths of the eternity within.

More simply put it was like fucking an onion. Dorothy's bliss-smile spread outwards.

The heat rose from her broad hips and pushed up through her plumpness, her breasts and her slender neck. Instead of increasing her rhythmic pounding she slowed and allowed herself to be consumed by the fires within her body, and not by the pressing intensity of her pussy. Her inward breathing pulled her burning pleasures up, up her spine, delaying orgasm, yet conversely intensifying its looming power. She held herself at the edge of release, moving oh-so-slowly up and down George's throbbing cock. Were it not for the stim collar, he'd have surrendered his essence long ago by now and become a mere husk of a man. Only the thick leather straps kept him from ripping Dorothy apart in sexual frenzy.

She felt an ecstatic inner peace from her heart envelop her body, like suddenly becoming the eye of the pleasure storm. She wailed. The heat rose from her neck and filled her mind, pushing her away until she was no longer present within. There was orgasm, and the back and forth of lightning thunder strikes which grounded her brain to her pussy. The fires released the waters and the bliss wave flowed down and down and out across George's unmoving body.

Dorothy's now rapidly-pumping tsunami triggered a chain reaction in George, which in turn tripped the stim collar's fail-safe, permitting his raw surrender before her divinity; utterly, fully and without reservation. He screamed. His cum blasted into her altar and soaked her mystery cave, which elicited ever more from him like a hungry vacuum. His seemingly endless release caused by the long-suppressed eruption transformed the lake of waiting ice cream and pushed Dorothy's consciousness beyond the mortal sphere. He was part-bound to her once again, and knew only the bliss of mindless servitude and her eternal glory.

Dorothy ripped into another world, another dimension. She could no longer think, and yet was full of knowing. Her mind ceased to function and she felt the familiar relief of absolute silence, the eternal silence. She was the sun giving life the universe around her. She had achieved inner perfection and immortality.

Her physical body incrementally rejuvenated. Her skin softened and fattened, her hair glistened, breasts lifted and hips diverged. She was the goddess she knew herself to be, and the incomprehensible gentleness of her higher self was a strength absolute.

And then she curved back into the moment, and was anchored to the full weight of being human again. She'd no idea how long she'd been away for; time wasn't counted in the heavens.

She jerked in response to the clustergasms still firing off inside of her due to the melting Mayan Chocolate body parts. She groaned in deep satisfaction and then popped her eyes open. Her right hand came down hard across George's face as she felt a burst of righteous rage.

That was the natural side-effect of half-bonding using parlour ice cream. Until the circuit was completed by filling and cumming into the boy pussy, slaves suffered all kinds of well-deserved abuse. Supermarket ice cream was of course blended with farmed ejaculate, so that working women could just cum-and-go whenever they needed a quick fix-me-up, and the necessity for proximal violence was strongly diminished. In many ways then, it was just like before the Great Transition.

She hit him again, but harder, "You pathetic fucking bitch!" she screamed, and then spat at him. It just felt so god-damned good. Domestic slaves rarely gave such a rush when rebonding and Dorothy missed that.

She turned her head to Mar and barked, "Flip him and give me the fucking paddle! He's gonna fuckin' bleed!"

Mar moved her eyes down to Dorothy's still riding ass and made a 'but how?' gesture, unable to speak and still feasting upon her gag's sweetness.

Dorothy glowered, then lifted up with a 'shlupping' sound and backed herself away from the couch. Mar expertly unstrapped George and helped him flip over. His skin looked like grilled zebra due to the force of his earlier involuntary straining. Dorothy positioned herself midway alongside, oblivious to the creamy-hot juices sliding down her muscular legs. Mar passed her mistress a wide, waffle-like paddle. Her urgent need to cum was truly getting out of hand.