Arcadia

Women in the Arcadia Community are governed by what one might call a totalitarian principle. Everything we do, everything we say and think and even feel is regulated by and focused on the fact that we are female. This is challenging, can be frustrating, discomforting and sometimes infuriating, but is always stimulating, often unpredictable, never dull.

Yet I still struggle to fully understand the appeal of being a woman in the Community. We are, with very few exceptions, well-educated, highly motivated, independent-minded and free-spirited. And yet, despite the veneer of equality -- for example Alice's role as administrative director, and the academic and professional achievements of most of us in the "outside world" -- we are in a real sense property. We are owned both individually and collectively by the minority of citizens whose sole qualification for the rights and privileges they enjoy is to be male. And there is no doubt that while we may delight in aspects of our lifestyle, our primary pleasure as females is derived, is expected to be derived, from the males and what pleases them. We work not just as hard but harder, make more sacrifices, tolerate more, demand and expect less, much less, than those we serve and obey. And it is irrelevant whether they have earned their privilege. Our servitude, obeisance and obedience are unconditional and unreciprocated... at least in theory.

Nobody, so far as I know, has ever tested the limits of female sufferance in Arcadia. I doubt very much that the rules which govern our lives can be enforced. It is social pressure and perhaps the threat of ostracism which keeps us "in line"... but that's neither motivation nor deterrence. We are here of our own free will; we understood what was expected of us before we arrived. We knew that our status would be defined and delineated not by what we do but by (in a turn of phrase I hear a lot) what we are and what we are not. And while no one except maybe the most bigoted men and most servile women would claim that we females are inferior -- mentally, emotionally or even necessarily physically -- we do acknowledge

la différence

. It's the

raison d'être

of the Arcadia Community.

Sabrina is perhaps the best example of this. If, all other things being unchanged, she had been born with a penis, she would fit perfectly into the role of master, getting as much satisfaction from that as she actually does being a slave... but probably with less of the thrill that she desires. After all, genuine thrills come from challenging yourself, testing and expanding your limits, enhancing your insight and perceptions. And I honestly believe that this is the birthright of the females in Arcadia.

We

are the fortunate sex. Our lives are never boring, never simple, never mundane. Every waking moment, even while preforming the most menial and dreary of chores, is a sensual and sexual experience. It's because whatever it is we're doing, we do not, cannot, are not allowed to forget or ignore, even for an instant (and here's that expression again!) what we are and what we are not.

I've pontificated long enough, but will nevertheless add this. We (the women of Arcadia) are all, to an extent, exhibitionist, probably more sexually oriented than most women. Some of us are submissive and even masochistic by nature. I have never considered myself that way; but this may be the key to comprehension. For instance, being naked in public is, you might think, a novelty that wears off. At first you feel embarrassment, because it's something that (paradoxically) feels unnatural, to be so completely exposed. You may feel shame at being so wanton. These sentiments don't last; and yet, as I've mentioned, familiarity does not breed contempt or complacency. In the end you feel joy and take pride in your nudity, not just because it is pleasing to men, but because it is an expression of your commitment to this lifestyle.

***

My second full day in the Arcadia Community started out cool and overcast and stayed that way.

When I awoke Lucy and Carlo were still asleep. She was on her back and he was lying half on top of her, one leg hooked over hers and an arm clamped around her head... like in a wrestling hold. Maybe that's what it was. I tried not to disturb them; but as I raised myself off the mattress it sagged and rebounded, rousing them. Lucy yawned and whispered something to Carlo who, without a word, he put his arm around her thigh and literally pulled her onto his penis. She wrapped her own arms around his shoulders to tighten their embrace. Her calf muscles tautened and her toes curled. His buttocks tensed. The squeaking of the bed, the squishing of their body parts, their sighing and puffing and panting and grunting and groaning made for an evocative paean to the dawn as the birds' chorus just outside the window reached its own climax.

I felt uneasy watching them, so I went to the bathroom and then the kitchen. Alice was already at work. Once Lucy had come to assist, we set the breakfast out on the patio table. Robert joined us, along with Carlo. The sun peered occasionally and weakly through ashen clouds. The frosty air tickled my skin and the coarse weave on the wicker chairs was rough under my backside; but I was learning to revel in my nudity. I used to run half-marathons, even tried the real thing, and a triathlon once. The feeling is not dissimilar. You savour the adversity because it broadens your experience, takes you out of your comfort zone, immerses you in a sensual reality that is actualized by stress and struggle. And if this comes across as overly portentous, what can I say? It feels good.

Alice said she hoped Lucy and I had not made any plans. We hadn't. On every second Saturday a Citizens' Assembly is held. There are no prizes for guessing which sex constitutes the entirety of its membership. While the Council is the formal managerial body (and the Community is in the jurisdiction of a Local Government Authority), the Assembly has a definitive role in policy-making and decision-making. All male residents are expected, or at least encouraged, to attend. Their deliberations can take up the whole day; and since the men give up their Saturday to fulfill their civic responsibilities, so do the women. Of course, we have different duties.

At eight o'clock we (females) mustered in the park near the Civic Hall, some three hundred of us altogether. With a few exceptions, all the women living permanently in the Community plus weekend residents had gathered. Most of the exemptions are for those with jobs providing essential services that cannot stop just because it's the weekend. Meanwhile, a hundred or so visitors had taken up vantage points around the edges of the park to witness the proceedings. Because it was still nippy, many of the female spectators were clothed; but we were, of course, naked, except for footwear and headgear. Below my stylish raffia straw visor I wore gardeners' gloves, heavy-duty woollen socks and scruffy work boots (which Alice kept in storage with several other pairs). Apart from those items, my only coverage and protection was a thick layer of sunscreen lotion.

We milled about for a while. Bodies glistened golden brown or gleamed creamy white until the sunblock was absorbed into our skin. Many of the women were smeared with fluorescent pigments and made a vibrantly colourful tableau, like in a 1960s-style psychedelic disco.

Lucy and I met up with Gabrielle and Hannah. With so many of us gathered on the grass, packing towards the centre so we did not spill over the edges of the small park, so close that our sun protection rubbed off on each other's bodies, one might have expected a roar of voices; but there was just a low murmur, like the buzzing of bees. And then a wave of expectant silence swept over the crowd. I was on the fringe and saw Alice and a couple of men approaching. One of the latter was Tim, the other also a new citizen of the Community. The women around me began spontaneously arranging themselves in ranks. We four novices followed their lead until all three hundred of us formed a continuous queue that made several 180-degree turns to keep us within the park perimeter. The lines were far enough apart that the two men could walk between them. This they did, counting us off to divide us into groups of twenty.

Tim came up to me, our eyes connected briefly and he couldn't resist a grin as he intoned "Fourteen." Once he'd reached twenty he stopped and held up a hand. We obediently stepped forward and then marched in our truncated column off the grass and onto the road. I was glad I was in the middle of mine because I had no idea what to do or where to go. Lucy was still with me, but Hannah had been separated from her sister, who was in the next group.

It was a smooth operation. As Tim and his companion departed to join the other men for their Assembly, Alice was speaking to a number of women who now took charge of each group. They had obviously been briefed beforehand because they didn't need detailed instructions or directives regarding about the day's assignments. Our leader was Charlotte, a tall, elegant woman with an aristocratic style that contrasted oddly with her timeworn gloves and boots and her nudity. In front of a nearby team was Olivia, the exquisite hostess at my first encounter with the Arcadia Club. Both of these women seemed out of place, too sophisticated to be herded like livestock for menial slave labour; but in a funny way that made it more exotic... and erotic. I felt a shiver of arousal. As I've said, everything you do in Arcadia is charged with sexual excitement, if you're female.

Charlotte guided us away from the park, in the midst of spellbound bystanders who parted silently to allow us passage. Not far away was a gap in the forest about half the size of a football field, connected to the main road by a narrow corridor. Here the first crew was ready to begin working. Unlike the rest of us, they had been issued hard hats, earmuffs and goggles. Such protective accessories seemed weirdly incongruous on the otherwise naked bodies. I assumed (correctly) that these women had not been allocated to the group randomly but were experienced, with particular skills. Indeed, three of them carried chainsaws while others had axes, log jacks, crowbars, long-handled secateurs, that sort of thing. They immediately set to work carving up an enormous stringybark eucalyptus tree which had died and fallen across the clearing. Standing atop the trunk and balanced precariously high above the ground, Sabrina was wielding her screeching chainsaw like a comic book warrior princess brandishing her bejewelled broadsword. She sliced through the wood like she was cutting through the proverbial butter. Detritus was flying upwards and outwards, spraying her exposed limbs and torso. Wood chips and dust were plastered to skin slick and sticky with sunscreen and perspiration.

My own group was assigned the task of clearing out a nearby patch of scrub. It was hard, exhausting, dirty work. The heavy cloud cover offered no relief in the oppressive humidity. And it didn't help to be clothing-free because it was impossible to avoid being lashed and stung by the prickly undergrowth. Still, it was exhilarating to be toiling alongside the other women of the Community.

All the work was done by hand, that is without machinery any more sophisticated than the chainsaws. I could see why the women of the Community are fit and lean. And I guess there is an economic advantage for the Community in having such a convenient and reliable supply of slave labour. And let's face it -- that's what we were. We were not harshly treated; there were no whips or anything like that, and we took several time-outs during the morning and similar respites in the afternoon. We were well-supplied with water, electrolyte drinks and energy bar snacks. There were three mobile bathrooms on site, each equipped with toilet and washbasin. We had a row of portable showers so we could clean up for the lunch break; but these dispensed cold water and were literally an outdoor facility, with no screen to protect our privacy. And you would think this wouldn't matter, since we were naked anyway. However, many of the out-of-town visitors had hung around to watch us work. (I noticed that the women were even more fascinated by the scene than the men.) The public spectacle of us sudsing and scrubbing was actually embarrassing, even a little humiliating. Lucy had a ball, and demanded that I sponge her down and rinse her off.

During a late-morning recess in the Assembly session, a number of the men came out of the Hall to inspect our progress. They didn't interfere but also didn't volunteer to help, naturally. And I was glad they didn't pitch in. I was (and am) rather proud of the fact that the Community depends so much on us women, to do so much of the work. We outnumber the males by three to two but probably account for eighty percent of the productive labour. Our contribution, offered willingly, provided unconditionally and proffered at no extraneous cost, is an invaluable resource.

Alice, who was in a crew near mine, had occasionally broken off from her job hauling sawn logs, when summoned to the Assembly. I assume she was called to provide information and maybe even advice. She didn't clean herself so must have looked quite a sight, her bare body lathered in sweat and covered in grime, in the Hall with two hundred men. After doing her duty, she promptly returned to the work site as the males got on with their business.

We were given one hour for lunch after being hard at work for four. We five newcomers, including Tim (who stared pensively at our somewhat battered bodies), went to the Blue Dolphin with Lauren. She is the Community's campus liaison officer. As we took our seats, we females were still dripping water from our shower. Since we didn't have to worry about soggy clothes, we hadn't bothered with towels to dry ourselves. I didn't mind the cool air on my damp skin; but at the café Lauren thoughtfully removed the cushion from one of the wrought iron chairs before sitting, so it didn't get wet. Lucy, the twins and I rather reluctantly did the same. The metal was ice-cold and the latticework pattern furrowed my flesh. It quickly absorbed our body heat but didn't get any softer against my back and under my butt and thighs.

Tim, who had the benefit of both trousers and cushion, must have seen us squirming and puckering our lips but was either too polite to show it or too clueless to understand. Lauren did not react. No doubt she's used to such petty discomforts.

We discussed our arrangements for tomorrow's return to the university campus on Sunday. At the end of the hour Tim went back to the Civic Hall and the rest of us went back to work. Lauren is a pretty, thirtysomething brunette whose large, sparkling green eyes and adorable pixie-cut hairstyle make her look much younger, is also the Community's senior medical doctor. She had set up a clinic near the tree-cutting site and did steady business throughout the morning and afternoon. Luckily the injuries she dealt with were generally superficial -- gashes and grazes, bumps and bruises -- but it was another reminder that it's the women in this society who bear the greater burden of all the work done. And, obviously, the damage could have been minimized or mitigated if we weren't naked. Yet no one complained or acted the martyr. Sabrina sustained a nasty laceration on her abdomen and had to be persuaded to get it attended to. She was in short order back to swinging her chainsaw.

By three o'clock the fallen tree had been completely dismembered and its remains hauled away, while the surrounding scrub had been cleared. Meanwhile, the Assembly had concluded. I have no idea what was on the agenda, since women aren't privy to its proceedings. The men stayed on for the obligatory beer session which was still going strong when we were released from our service an hour or so later. We dispersed without any benediction or acknowledgement of our efforts. Back at Alice's house the hot shower was lovely, and I revelled in the luxury of a warm, fluffy towel. Lucy had some scratches on her breasts and invited me to treat them. She licked her lips as I gently rubbed in the ointment. It was, I guess, unfortunate that we were so enervated. So was Alice, but she dutifully prepared dinner.

The table talk excluded any mention of the day's activities. Robert was constrained to avoid disclosing what decisions had been made at the Assembly, even to the Community's most senior manager. In turn, we didn't speak about our day of toil, even though I was proud of what we'd accomplished. In other words, no one makes a fuss about the separate roles of the sexes in the Arcadia Community. Men have more rights, women have more responsibilities. That's how the system works.

After dinner we relaxed for a while in the living room. When Alice, exhausted, nodded off, Robert carried her up to their bedroom. A few minutes later I heard a squeal and then a loud moan. Her well-earned slumber had to wait a while.

I started off sleeping soundly. So did Lucy, until she had a bad dream and woke me in the middle of the night. She was whimpering in the darkness, so I kissed her. She took my hand in hers and drew it down her belly into her crotch. I caressed her until she became moist and began to pant and purr; but then she giggled and turned on her side to face away from me.

"Thank you, sweetie," she whispered.

"Good night, honey," I replied.