"How does it feel to be oiled, Harry?"
"Very showy, goddess, a little like these priests here, not something I've done before, but if you like it then I like it, goddess."
"Goodness, slave, you're showing me a new side now aren't you?"
"I guess, goddess. Yes, goddess."
Justine was absolutely right. She leashed me and led me out of the ante-room, still without my shorts or my chastity cage, and I felt myself get harder and harder as she walked me into the church's main hall. The room was dominated by dark hardwood benches and huge windows letting in diffuse light through their milky translucent glass. At the front of the hall stood a middle-aged, white-skinned red-robed priestess with grey hair, flanked by two naked slave-priests, one of south-Asian descent who was perhaps in his late seventies, and a young black boy of perhaps nineteen.
Justine led me to the priestess. "Kiss her shoes, Harry."
"Yes, goddess," I said.
I fell to my knees on the red carpet that led to the altar, and then I kissed each of the priestess's shoes once and looked up at her. She smiled down at me with love and peace in her eyes and then she beckoned me to stand. It seemed natural to take up a display posture in front of her, so I spread my feet and put my hands behind my back, but she laughed and waved me into a more normal stance.
"I keep my slave-priests in display posture for the ceremonies, boy, but you don't need to take it up just to impress me," said the priestess.
"Sorry, goddess," I replied quickly.
"No matter, boy, I am happy to have you on show in my church. Go in peace, slave," she replied.
Justine took me to a pew, where we sidestepped along until we were next to two middle-aged women in smart blue dresses, who had sat between them a skinny boy of eighteen; each of the the women held a separate leash that connected to his collar. Justine greeted them, then she had me stand still while she fished around under the seats. She came up with a single cuff on a chain, which she clicked into place behind my cock and balls and sealed the lock with her thumbprint.
"Always good to cock-lock a boy when he's in church," said one of the blue-dressed women to Justine.
"But not yours?" said Justine.
"Our son is going to be the display slave today!"
"Wow! Congratulations - so he's joined the church properly?"
"He has - we're so proud."
Justine sat down, then she had me kneel next to her with a cushion beneath my knees. She leaned over, kissed my forehead, and told me I was doing great, then she started to stroke my hair and I fell into a trance as her fingers twirled my locks then scraped over my scalp. Warmth coursed through my body, and I felt the plug pulsing gently inside me.
When the hall had filled up, the priestess on the stage called proceedings to begin.
"Slave-priests: fetch the display slave!" cried the priestess; the crowd cheered.
The skinny 18-year-old boy was extracted from the pews by three slave-priests, who gently guided him up the central aisle and then onto the stage. The boy stumbled, his limbs shaky, but a priest caught him and then guided him to an X-shaped frame that stood just behind the altar where the high priestess stood.
It was quick work to shackle the thin boy's arms to chains that led up, one to each side of the X at the top; some mechanism pulled the chains tight and then the boy had his ankles shackled too. A thick leather strap went around his waist, and that put him well on display, exposed to the gazes of everyone in the church. A priest reached up to the boy's face then blindfolded him, before all the priests walked off the stage and knelt prostrate at the steps that led to the altar.
"The feminine is divine! The male achieves divinity through subservience. Today slave believer Anthony achieves divinity, long may he continue to do so. Anthony has pledged himself as a full member of our church, and his mothers have assigned joint ownership to the church and themselves. Anthony is now learning this for the first time: his schooling will be continued at a church-run facility, where he will live as a naked slaveboy for the next six months, reduced to the legal minimum rights possessed by a male.
"Anthony will know pain, suffering, pleasure, worship, laughter and song. He will know the divine through his subservient schooling, and then he will return to our community to find his path through life under our collective care. I understand two of our younger congregation have already expressed an interest in becoming his owner-wife, and they will explore this feeling when he comes back to us. The feminine is divine."
"The feminine is divine," echoed all the assembled voices of the congregation.
The sermon went on from there. We heard all about how the female was more intelligent, more creative, more wise and more powerful, and how the male could attain all those same attributes save the last, if only each male would serve women as they should. I thought about the message as the priestess spoke, and I found my dick rose to attention, harder and harder, the more I thought about serving these women.
No one did own me: my mother had released me to find my own way, and my local female friends weren't interested in claiming me for more than the occasional night. I thought the AI had homed me with Millicent as she would give me the time and space to discover myself, and I was still puzzling out why it had added Justine to the mix. The two women were completely different, but I had to admit, I responded to Justine in a way that I never had with Milly. I was leashed and naked in Justine's church, and found that feeling powerless and exposed mattered less with Justine's hand gripping my leash.
We sang hymns to the divine feminine and to the attainment of the male through submission and service. They had decent tunes, but I was a lousy singer, though no one seemed to care. I think enthusiasm counted for far more than talent in that church, but I found Justine's singing voice to be very pleasant indeed. She snaked her arm around my hip while we sang, and then she placed my hand on her bottom and my erection grew harder still.
The priestess addressed us all in a clear, loud voice, "Sisters and brothers, we will now demonstrate four forms of the male and female divine. First form: the birther and the birthed. Robin and Clarissa, please come up onto the stage, come on, just here, that's right. Clarissa, over to you."
A short woman with red hair led a tall bald man by a long chain leash. They were both in their forties, lean and fit, and when the woman took her place on the stage, she disrobed and stood naked before the congregation. She snapped her fingers to her husband and he dropped to all-fours, then he looked up at her with longing, and started at the same time to tremble.
"Sisters, my husband-slave kneels before us today as my devoted companion of fifteen happy years. Robin is a kind and gentle man, he has made me a fine servant and has always lifted me further into my divinity as a woman, raising us both up with his love, which I in turn do for him. However, this last year, my life with Robin has changed.
"I took into my home a young pet-slave named Scamper, whose leash you see in the pews is held today by my sister. Scamper was a damaged boy, a product of a patriarchal army, and has required much love and attention from us both. With Scamper in our lives, Robin's role as my domestic husband-slave has receded, and I have found instead that all too often I have wished to train him as I train Scamper, to guide him to worship the divine feminine in new ways.
"I birth; Robin is birthed. Today, Robin is re-birthed. Priests, please approach. Robin, you are my beloved, but so now too is Scamper. He has benefited from your kind words and wisdom and become a wonderful beloved pet, but now I want for you the simple happiness he has. Today I remove your status as a human and rebirth you as a human-animal.
"Robin becomes Hopalong, shedding his old name and acquiring a new one. He is mitted by the priests, for pets do not need to use their hands. He is hobble-harnessed by the priests, for pets walk only on all-fours. His human collar is struck off, and a new pet-collar sealed in its place, whose technology will destroy words before they are spoken and allow only yips and yaps.
"Hopalong was expecting to be made a part-time pet-slave today, a hybrid person who lives between two worlds. Instead, I use my power over him to render him into the form that will serve my divinity, and that of Scamper, the best. Hopalong is now a pet and only a pet, he will eat from a bowl and sleep in a cage, and his hearing implants will be set to filter most human words from his understanding. Priests, please attach his smart-tail. Sisters and brothers, my new pet, Hopalong!"
Applause broke out. I saw the strangest look on the crawling man's face as he went past us down the aisle. There were a couple of tears trickling down his cheek, but he had a smile starting to break through his grimace and his eyes were wide but soft, with love I thought, as he gazed up at his owner. When she got back to her seat, Hopalong and Scamper licked and kissed each others' faces, and I thought I could hear some joy in the boys' barks before they were silenced.
"Thank you, Clarissa. We will now demonstrate another form: punisher and punished. Slave-priest Cody, over the caning bench," said the priestess.
All at once it hit me that I knew Cody, had been to school with him, but had not recognised him as the C.O.F.S had reshaped the shy, skinny boy into someone far more toned and at one with himself. I thought they had probably fattened up his cock as well, and resolved to check it out later, and I suspected they had made one or two tweaks to his face to bring out its best.
Cody draped himself over the caning bench; moments later the priestess landed the first whistling blow of her cane and Cody cried out in great pain. I flinched; the women seated next to us tittered at my display, but Justine squeezed my thigh and let the warmth of her palm seep into my flesh, to calm me. She left her hand there, and when the next blow hit Cody, I barely reacted.
