Heterosexual Marriage is Forbidden
Wife and husband had traveled by airplane and automobile. Arriving at a pier in a small coastal village, they found a small yacht awaiting them.
Two women helped the couple with their luggage. Most of it the wife’s. His wife told him to bring only a single small suitcase. If he needed other attire, they would buy it on the island.
The women chatted with his wife. It seemed as if he were invisible. He sulked. His wife slapped his wrist, telling him not be childish.
At the island two official greeted the couple. They had forms for both to sign. The wife said she had read them online. Her husband saw only a bunch of words. He signed without reading. The officials were female. Like the sailors, they spoke only to the woman.
Their baggage was sent ahead.
There was a cart waiting to carry them. It was reminiscent of a rickshaw. But it was built of steel and pastel colored plastic.
A man picked up the conveyance’s handles. The husband noticed he was nude. His wife admonished him to restrain his curiosity. He would discover many exciting difference between life here and their hometown.
The cart stopped in front of a large house. The operator knelt and bowed his head. The wife petted his head. He looked up with grateful worship. She went to the door, pressed a button.
He had never met his wife’s mother. Mother and daughter looked identical except effects of age.
The mother ignored his hand. Her gaze was cold. He felt persecuted. Since leaving the mainland he had been treated as a second-class citizen.
She spoke to her daughter:
“This was your husband?”
“Yes, trust me. He is satisfactory. Several whippings will be necessary. But he will quickly learn his place.”
“I hope so for his sake.”
His wife looked at him and spoke:
“You heard correctly. The papers we signed ended our marriage. Heterosexual marriage is not permitted here. Marrying you was a means to an end.”
“But … “
“Shut up!” This from her mother.
His ex-wife continued.
“You are now a slave. Strip and kneel.”
“Hell no, I’m getting out of here.”
He opened the door. Two women stood outside. They wore badges. The police.
“Officers, these women are crazy. Help me get away from them.”
The women ignored him. They turned to the older woman.
“We heard you acquired a new male. Do you need help with his orientation?”
She shook her head. “I think we can deal with him. But if you would each give him a tap, it will speed things along.”
Simultaneous electroshocks dropped him to the floor. The officers laughed and left.
The older woman walked over, kicked him in the ribs. She gestured to her daughter, who came over and kicked his other side.
He yelled, the begged, pleading for them to stop. Each time he tried to rise, they stomped him, shoving his body back to the floor.
This continued until he barely moved when kicked.
His ex-wife spoke:
“I chose you to be my slave. You should be honored. But you are an unregenerate male. In time, you will understand your good fortune.”
He muttered something incoherent. She stepped on hand, pressing it with the sharp heel.
“Speaking without permission is forbidden. All misbehavior is punished. If you understand say, ‘Yes, Mistress.'”
“Yes, Mistress.” He was cowed. Defying either woman would only bring more pain.
“This is a Femdomonomic island, ruled by women. All men here are slaves. Every woman is your superior. That is how it should be.”
The older woman spoke:
“You have no rights. You are property.”
The other woman continued:
“In the presence of a woman you kneel and bow your head. Never look a woman in the face unless ordered to. You will be spanked daily. Maintenance spankings remind you of your inferior status. Laziness, hesitation and rudeness earn whippings. The more you offend, the harsher your discipline.
“Perfect deportment prevents punishment. Men are also tormented for fun. As a new male, Dommes are eager to play with you and make you scream.
“Our coast guard monitors the waters. There is no escape. You will remain a slave on this island until you die. Barring serious illness, you will serve for decades.”
For the next three months, he was the center of attention at evening Pain Parties. His Mistress Owner then assigned him to cart service. He lives in the barn with other human ponies.