This is a dystopian world where adult women must suppress all sexual desires. If they fail, they move through the five Stages of being a slut. Men are not held to any standards.
All characters are adults well over 18. Elements of this story would be unacceptable in real life. I do not support or condone sexism (which is present in the real world) at any degree, and the following story should not be construed as such support. This is a fantasy that is, for me, rooted in fear.
This chapter highlights: sexism/sexist society, humiliation, non-consent, queer (lesbian) sex, impact (spanking/whipping), and force.
***
"No, Lilly!" I giggled, trying to keep it to a whisper. "Get out of here. I'm going to bed." I rolled away from her, trying to gaze at the wall. Instead, I caught sight of Tullia's silhouette, sound asleep in her bunk.
"C'mon," Lilly taunted like she always did, "it'll be fun!"
"I'm serious, Lilly!"
Lilly had snuck across the room--a cabin with eight bunk beds on either side of the wall--to my bunk. I always hesitated when she pulled me into her little plans, but normally she knew her way around Training, knew every nook and cranny of how-not-to-get-caught, and gave me confidence. But her advance in the dark had my heart pounding.
*
It was always hard to say no to Lilly. Before I met her, Stage 2, or Training, as they called it, was miserable: after a long night at the police station, Chuck put me in a van that took me to the county's Training Center, a campus of cabins tucked deep in the woods. That morning, I experienced my first of what the other women called the "Cherry test."
A woman in an immaculate, white dress and a group of men in dark clothing--the men, I learned later, were Security, the only men permitted on campus besides medical staff--whisked me and the other new arrivals to what looked like a large cabin on the outside and a medical waiting room on the inside.
They took me to a room where the woman in the white dress and a man in a lab coat waited in front of an examination table, complete with stirrups. I gasped and coughed, trying to stifle my whimpers.
"Come, there's no need to be afraid," the man in the lab coat gently removed my jail uniform and led me, naked and shaking, to the table.
"You had better get used to it," the woman sneered. "You will need to pass your examination every morning if you wish to stay in Stage 2."
And so I swallowed my tears while the man spread my legs, fastened my feet into the stirrups, and jabbed at and pinched me where I was exposed and vulnerable, where Officer Eric had defiled me the day before.
"I am Mistress Elizabeth," the woman explained. "Our uniforms represent our purity, and we will be your teachers. Stage 2 is for those who have strayed," she began pacing the room, "but who have yet remained pure enough to be redeemable."
I winced as something pinched me. The man's eyes were level with my thighs, and he peered inside, cold and scientific.
"You are still a virgin yet, as are all the girls here," Mistress Elizabeth continued. "In your Training program, we endeavor not to expose you to temptation beyond what you can bear in your naïve state, but still some girls manage to fall even further."
The man grabbed my wrist and plugged something into my tracking bracelet, no doubt uploading data about the condition of my body into it.
She paused and turned toward me. "I trust that you will not be one of those girls. Your survival in Stage 2 depends on it. You will report here at 7AM sharp each morning. Dr. Lucio will examine you to ensure that you maintain your virginity. Breakfast in the Great Hall begins at 8AM. Tardiness will not be rewarded."
*
Training became routine. We had packed schedules under the watchful surveillance of the Mistresses' and the Security guards' eyes. At breakfast each morning, the Mistresses announced who that day would receive punishments and who would graduate to their "real-world" Exam, the only ticket back to Stage 1.
The punishments were rare, but they were grotesque spectacles, performed right there in the Great Hall.
The graduations were also rare, and I grew hopeless that I would leave.
I slipped through my classes quietly, unnoticed.
I often escaped to the bathroom to cry, even though I hated myself for doing it: before Stage 2, I had had a career. But I couldn't stand being patronized and I couldn't stop the tears whenever they started.
I kept my trips short enough to keep the Mistresses off my back about it, but just barely. Most of the girls ignored me, pretending not to notice.
I thought everyone ignored me until one day, when a set of gentle footsteps trotted in and broke the silence.
"Hey. What's your name?"
"Violet," I sniffled. "Um... you?"
"Lilly."
"Oh..."
"Names are overrated, don't you think? They don't tell the whole story."
"Oh--okay."
"Why don't you come out and talk to me about it? Or not even talk. Just be with me."
"I--I, um. You can just ignore me. You don't have to do this."
"But I want to."
Shaking, I opened the stall door. The blonde woman before me had these inquisitive blue eyes. Looking away, I turned on the sink and started splashing water on my face.
As I dried my face with a paper towel, Lilly started, "So..."
"It's just Tullia. Just silly stuff. She called me a slut. It's fine. I mean, we're all here for a reason, right? So she's not wrong... I just... I just didn't want this."
"Oh honey... you can't let them get to you like that. That's what the men say, what they think. And the Mistresses are almost worse. But you can't go judging yourself on other people's ideas."
I cocked my head to the side. That just wasn't how reality was. Not for me.
"Look, I know it's not what they say here, but I really think it's okay to be anything you want. Including a slut. I mean, who does it hurt? So what, even if you are a slut--"
But the suggestion that I was a slut brought visions of Eric crashing down on me--
"a helpless, exposed slut..."
--and my attempt to stifle a sob just made it louder.
"Ah--sorry. Aw, come here," and she started to embrace me, when I recoiled.
"Lilly," I hissed. "That's forbidden." All forms of touch were forbidden, even among us "girls."
"Okay, okay. Yeah. I know. I just, it's okay to live a little, you know? But I get it if you don't want to."
I nodded. I was chewing on my fingernail.
"Really, it's--"
An insistent, firm knock on the door. My heart skipped a beat.
"Girls," a deep voice demanded, the door opening. This was not a Mistress.
I wanted to hide behind Lilly, but I froze.
The boots clomping on the floor came around the corner and revealed a Security man, whose sharp jaw and dark hair reminded me of Eric. I looked at the floor, my heart pounding.
