The Church of Female Supremacy

"Move down just a bit, now use the sponge there, oh yeah, that's the spot, that's it, oh that's good, Harry, keep doing that. Mmmphhh," said Justine as I soaped and sponged her porcelain back in our house's big bath.

"More, goddess?" I said a few moments later.

"Lower down now, boy. Do you mind if I call you boy sometimes, Harry? You know, Harry, oh that's the spot, In my religion all men are addressed as 'boy' from time to time, it's the holy word we use for you."

"Just as you say, goddess. I don't mind; my aunts were all COFS and they called me boy."

"But you said before that your mother was a secular gynarchist? Is that right, Harry?"

"Exactly right, goddess, she believed in the scientific rationale for female supremacy, not the religious one, so she kept less strict rules around the house," I said evenly.

"Less strict than me?"

"Yes, goddess, most certainly less strict than your new household rules," I replied, trying hard to keep that even tone for the woman who now legally controlled my orgasms.

"And so that meant you came to live with Millicent when you moved out and got your little waiter job in the big city, because she would keep the same rules for you?"

"My mother signed me to live here and left my care to the city's AI, as is right when a man-"

"- a boy, please-"

"A boy comes of age."

"How did you feel when you found out I was going to be moving in here, Harry? Were you scared of the big bad member of the Church of Female Supremacy? Did it shake you to your core, to live with one of the fundamentalists you had grown up around when exposed to those terrible aunts?" Justine laughed, in her beautiful clear high register, as she teased me.

"You jest, goddess, but your church has a bit of a reputation amongst men, you're renowned for your methods and for, shall we say, not holding back, so yes, a little scared."

"Do you miss wearing clothes around the house, Harry?"

"Yes, goddess, though I've gotten used to the feeling of bare skin I still feel underdressed whenever we have company, and now that I'm, well, you know-"

"Caged and shaved and always wearing a control collar with your name engraved?"

"Yes, goddess."

"Say it then..."

"Now, goddess, that I am... caged and shaved and always wear a control collar with my name engraved..."

"Yes?"

"Now that I am in that state of controlled nudity, which you imposed, I feel very much on display whenever any of our friends come around."

"Just as you should, boy. Now, turn around: let's get you nice and clean so you're spick and span and don't show me up for our day at church. I bet you can't wait to learn all about my beliefs, can you, Harry?"

"It will certainly be an education, goddess: one to remember, I suspect."

"Only a Bad Boy would spurn such a gift, Harry. Are you one?"

"I hope not, goddess."

"Fair enough. Hand me that sponge."

*****

An hour later I stood wearing a pair of tight white hotpants, for the 2km walk to the grand church building, my leash in Justine's elegant hands. Around my torso was a harness made of fine gold chain, a family heirloom of Justine's that only came out for church-best and special occasions. She wore a white cotton dress that hugged her ample curves; her flowing black hair stood out stark against the bright fabric. On her head perched a black hat with a veil, and she wore white flats to complete the ensemble; I wore sandals and my collar.

"Hands behind your back, Harry, I want to cuff you," said Justine.

"What if I fall?"

"Then I will catch you - I won't take a damaged boy to church, I'd never live it down - we're supposed to look after you, you know, not just damage you any old how."

"Only in specific and targeted ways?"

"You've been reading nonsense on the internet again, Harry, we're not barbarians - we're very enlightened. Boys just need firm guidance from time to time."

"Yes, goddess," I replied, which seemed safest.

*****

Some time later, after walking a very circuitous route through the areas where most of the people I knew lived, we finally arrived outside the brilliant white stone building of the local Church of Female Supremacy. Justine had taken some pictures along the way and posted them to her feeds; she had already garnered a lot of 'hot' reacts to the picture of me captioned 'blushing boy ready for his first day at church', and I was already realising that some of our friends would never look at me the same again.

Justine led me by the hand through the thick wooden double door that sat framed in an arch at the entrance to the church. We walked in past some marble statues of the divine feminine (standing) and the divine male (kneeling, worshipping), then we turned a corner to make our way past a privacy screen and I found myself facing two burly naked males with shaved heads.

The muscly nude boys bowed to Justine and their biceps and abs rippled as they made the motion to her. Justine bade them arise and they fell in one on either side of me, and gently placed their firm fingers around my arms. I squirmed a little but one of them smiled at me with the gentlest, kindest smile I had ever seen in all my life, and so I settled down and let them lead us into a little anteroom.

"Goddess, what are we doing? I thought we were going to a service, Goddess," I said.

The muscle-bound men pushed me, with some care, against the rear wall of the anteroom and then guided my hands towards buckling cuffs that hung from strong chains. As a male I was used to being bound - even my less supremacist housemate Milly would tie me or cuff me to give me my maintenance spankings, and the occasional caning - but this was a new experience for me. I felt very much on display.

"The slave-priests need to prep you to enter the holy places in the church itself, it's not a big deal, they just need to do one or two little things," said Justine.

"Like what exactly, Justine, you never mentioned this before?"

"You will call me 'goddess' in this building, Harry. No exceptions. 'Goddess Justine' is acceptable if you want to get my attention in particular. Priest, please take off his shorts then add a shock ring around his balls, I want him to have the full C.O.F.S experience today."

"Yes, Goddess," said one of the priests.

"Goddess!" I protested.

"Plugged and oiled too, please."

"Naturally, goddess, he will look divine with a light oil, not too glossy I think," said a priest.

"No one knows how to display a boy like a slave-priest, Harry, they're always working on how to please their superiors and appearance is a big part of that, for some boys at least. Now, where is the priestess? Ah, here she comes! Silence, Harry."

I nodded.

A middle-aged black priestess in a striking red robe strode into the little anteroom with us. She sat down at the desk, and fired up the holographic display of her computer, then threw a drone into the air, which bobbed around in front of me. The priestess smiled at Justine, then nodded to the slave-priests to tell them to keep working on me.

"New slave?" asked the priestess.

"Harry lives in the same house the AI assigned to me, and I am showing him the ways of my beliefs so that he may better understand me and thus better serve me for the remainder of our time together, however long that may be. He is not my property, I am simply his controller today," said Justine.

"Owned by anyone?"

"No one; controlled day to day by my housemate Millicent and me."

"Do you want to start a file in the church database for him?"

"Most certainly."

"Public or private?"

"Public, I want the world to know he's been introduced to our belief system."

"Excellent. Drone: scan and photograph slave body then upload. Sister, will you remove his chastity cage, the drone needs to measure his cock. Thank you, sister... Now, what names do you want to record for him?"

"Just Harry for now, I've not taught him any other names just yet."

"All in time, sister, all in time. Do you want him plugged in church?"

"Absolutely, just a small one today though."

"Priest, see to it."

"Yes, goddesses," said a priest.

I watched as the priestess built up a file on me, and saw as she checked my details. I felt her eyes on me as she scanned between the drone's measurements of my body and the text, and she nodded at each one. Her gaze lingered a long time on my dick, and she seemed to ponder it for a while before committing that measurement to my profile. She uploaded pictures of me being oiled, then filmed the priest as he approached with a shining metal buttplug.

"Brother, your goddess has decreed you be plugged. Accept this offering that it may bring you closer to her control, and her divinity. Relax now, brother, it'll go in easy enough..." said the priest.

I felt it slip inside me, stretching me out a little along the way, then it popped in and slid up just a little further. The plug came to rest and I exhaled, a long slow breath, letting the sensation of being filled flow through me and out into the air around me. I almost never wore plugs, for they brought out in me an incredible urge to obey, a feeling of being owned and safe, somehow. I felt that same drive well up in me now.

"Why didn't the AI tell me that?" said Justine to me.

"What, goddess?"

"That plugging you produces such a strong reaction: you're glowing, Harry, and your eyes have softened already."

"I think the AI might not know, goddess. I so rarely wear plugs after all."

"Nonsense, Harry. Perhaps it just wanted me to find out on my own - there's no way it could have missed that reaction. Are you ready to obey me now, Harry?"

"Oh yes, goddess!"

"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.