{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"4caf40fb-a525-4eff-9326-6559f1712389","seriesId":"b5034b34-4192-4327-9114-e1d80e0adc19","seriesName":"Brides in the Nation of Men","currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2024-03-14T03:54:46.445Z","title":"Brides in the Nation of Men (Part 1)","slug":"brides-in-the-nation-of-men-part-1","shortId":"ZPGMtiDg","authorNote":"This is the first part. I believe there will be three parts, possibly two depending on how things turn out as I write it. Note: This part (Part 1) is, while kinky, fairly gentle compared to the soon coming parts, which will involve gruesome sexual violence and snuffery against women.","disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"A wedding takes place in a world where women outnumber men 10,000 to one. But this wedding takes place in the one part of that world where men have, miraculously, attained the upper hand.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"1c035b28-4d87-4fe2-8240-1f2b0f401908","title":null,"summary":"It is a traditional ceremony. And a small, intimate one.\nThere are perhaps ten men in attendance, an","wordCount":4083,"readTime":20,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

It is a traditional ceremony. And a small, intimate one.\nThere are perhaps ten men in attendance, and most have only brought one or two women with them, if any.

I stand next to the podium, and\nwait for the soft music to begin.

As though creating the music by their very movements, first\nenter the four bridesmaids. Smiling softly to their left and right, walking\ndown the aisle step by step. Their beauty is on display, the beauty both of\ntheir bodies and their character. It takes discipline to serve as a bridesmaid.\nTrue pride in your family and yourself. The low cut of their satin tops, the\nlow rise of their sequined skirts, make abundantly clear the wealth of physical\nbeauty we find ourselves living in these days. And the steady rhythm of their\nsoft steps on bare feet is testimony to the spiritual beauty we have cultivated\nas well

Each beautiful girl blushes as she approaches and makes eye\ncontact with me. But they continue on their route. If the fourth and last one\nseems momentarily, imperceptibly, to hesitate, to look like she may be about to\nbreak protocol severely and say something out loud at this point, no one notices\nbut me. She smiles nervously at me as she passes by.

The four girls approach the pastor, who holds the Ark of God’s\nWill in his hands. Inside the ark are four of the church’s sacred coins. They\nare old, so old it has been centuries since anyone could have said how old they\nactually are. Three of the coins have the symbol of the bird imprinted on them.\nThe symbol of flight and freedom.

One of the coins has the symbol of the circle. The symbol of\nfaith and return.

The pastor silently holds the box out to the girls. All\nbreathing in the room stops. He opens the lid of the Ark, and the first\nbridesmaid reaches in, adopting a forthright attitude, showing by example what\nthis moment calls for. She pulls out a coin, keeps her hand grasped tightly\nclosed, and withdraws it from the box. The second, third and fourth girl are\nrelieved to have this example before them, and imitate her forthright movements\nwithout fail. Now each girl holds in her hand a coin. The pastor intones, “You\nmay reveal God’s will now.”

The girls each turn their coin up at the same time. None of\nus can see the result, only the girls can. The four of them release audible\nsighs, and three of them look at the fourth—the last, the one who had seemed to\nbarely hesitate before. They are smiling, and reaching forward to embrace her.\nShe smiles back, but her smile is shaky. They all hold her in an embrace, whispering\nhappy words into her ears, then each takes a turn embracing her alone,\npassionately kissing her on the mouth as they do so.

And then, they lead her up the steps onto the church’s small\nstage area, near where the organist is playing, and gently guide her to her\nshackles. A small pole stands up in front of the organ, and through a small\nring on that pole is threaded a chain holding two cuffs. In order to place her\nhands within these restraints behind her back, she must sit on the ground. But\nin sitting, she must kneel, because her ankles, too, go into another set of\nshackles that can be found at the bottom of the pole. The three girls gently\nlock her into place, while she stares straight ahead. They gently caress and kiss\nher cheeks and forehead while they secure her into her place. One of them is\nshedding tears, but these are tears of happiness.

I can see that the chained bridesmaid is starting to shiver.\nThis is surely embarrassing to her parents and her brother who are in\nattendance. It is embarrassing, but understandable. It’s a big moment for the\ngirl.

As the three other bridesmaids take their places on the\nother side of the podium from me, the music reaches a crescendo, and in comes a\nbride. Felice.

She was the first girl in her family that I met. I walked up\nto her at a small gathering of friends and announced loudly that I would like\nto fuck her. She was sitting on a chair against the wall at the time, along\nwith all the other women watching the gathering, as is usual. What was unusual\nwas that she rolled her eyes at me as she looked up at my form, which I\nimagined was looming. Then she grinned, but I knew, and I knew she knew I knew,\nthat the eye roll was real. She was annoyed at my demand.

I can’t pretend annoyance is an uncommon feeling among women\nwhen we make demands of them, but showing it is another thing altogether.\nAnd you would think I might be angry at this but to be clear, I was not at all.\nI was intrigued. I had high hopes in that moment, that I had found a strong\nwoman.

She stood up and led me into one of the backrooms and we had\nour first fucking. There was to tell the truth nothing special about it. She\nwas extremely beautiful, as all women are, and she knew it, as all women do,\nand she opened herself to me, and let me put my dick inside her and release my\nsperm into her. She gazed intently at my face throughout the process, smiling\nvacantly.

She looked amused. And bored. Amazing. Women act happy and\noverjoyed during sex, that is just What Is Done. She was either the worst actor\nin the world—or the most truthful woman I had ever met.

The most truthful woman in the world was now approaching me\nat the podium. She smiled at me, her wry accepting smile, as I took both her hand\nand kissed it. She then turned to her right, and walked over to the pastor. He\nintoned the Blessing, then gestured to the stage, which she promptly ascended\nto. The three bridesmaids were there waiting for her. One of them was her best\nfriend Kandra, and they embraced happily and briefly kissed. Felice then walked\nover to the wall which would be her place for the rest of the ceremony. She raised\nher bouquet up to Kandra, who took it from her. This freed Felice’s hands to\nstretch upwards towards the shackles recessed into the wall above her. The\nother two bridesmaids, climbing on small stepstools, reached up to her wrists,\nplaced them in the shackles, and locked them.

Felice had never had any interest in any sort of restraints\nduring our courtship, despite my frequent mentions and requests. I respected\nher desires because I respected her strength. To see her now, though, stretched\ntight, her long torso exposed, her breasts beneath her top raised upwards to an\nimpossible height by her bound position – this was more than I could have hoped\nfor.

The next bride now enters. Prsepa.

The first time I was invited to Felice’s family home, her\nsister Prsepa made no bones about wanting me to marry into this family\npractically immediately. She waited on me hand and foot as I socialized with\ntheir father, Felice sitting next to him allowing him to casually rub her leg\nas we talked.

Having brought snacks and drinks to both of us Prsepa now\nknelt in front of me, simply waiting. A perfect picture of patience and\nobedience. She had not done much for me yet, but something in her demeanor told\nme that she would willingly and ably serve in any way I pleased should I wish\nto speak to her.

Felice and her father saw me staring down at Prsepa’s tits –\nshe was properly dressed which meant I could see the tops of the things from\nthis angle very well, and the general shape of them through her tightly fitted\nclothing. She didn’t see me as she was staring properly at my feet, but her\nsister and father both winked at me and chuckled when I realized I had been\nstaring at her and not paying attention to them.

I spent the night with Prsepa in her room that night, while\nFelice entertained her father in his bed. I learned that she was, as I had been\nsure, utterly eager to please. This was the source of her pleasure. She was\ninexperienced compared to Felice but had no inclination to say no, to anything\nat all. I gave her her first ass fucking that night. When I asked her if it\nhurt, she said yes, and from her face it was clear that there was no physical\npleasure mixed with that pain. I then said, “You wish I would stop then?” and\nshe immediately moaned and cried, “No, please don’t stop!” And so I continued\nto hurt her. And she continued to love me for it.

As I continued over the months to court this family, I\nlearned Prsepa was just as eager to serve the Society as she was eager to\nplease me that night. She could not wait to take her place, if it was her fate,\nas a wife, and bear children and love them and teach them in the ways of truth,\nand hopefully, if she was blessed, eventually bear a Male. To have been a\nmother to a son was her dearest wish, deep in her soul.

She is smiling sweetly at me now, and I smile back at her,\nher auburn hair, her light freckles, her bosom. Admiring her figure and her\nfaith, I take her hand and kiss it just as I did Felice, and she then turns,\nreceives the Blessing, and is guided by the bridesmaids to the wall to take her\nplace next to her sister. She gives her bouquet to the bridesmaid who was her\nfriend, and the other two secured her upstretched arms to the wall. Felice and\nPrsepa gaze at each other, smiling, with, I am sure, joy and anticipation.\nTheir father’s line will continue through this wedding. One of their most\nimportant duties as young women is being fulfilled as we speak.

Now their sister Iuoa enters. Her square jaw, dark tan skin\nand her personality – if she could have chosen, she would have been a man, let’s\njust say it – all conspired to make it impossible for her to ever look quite\nright in a bridal dress. But she grins widely at me as she begins her traversal\ndown the aisle, and I grin widely and genuinely back. I love Iuoa. How could I\nnot?

She was not there when Felice took me to her family home\nthat first time. But I met Iuoa finally on my second visit. She answered the\ndoor when I knocked, covered in paint. “You’re Felice’s friend?” she grinned\nand I said yes, I was, and reached out to shake her hand. She took my hand in\nhers and gave a firm shake—and transferred a mess of paint over at the same\ntime. She gasped and blushed and apologized and ushered me in to the washroom.\nWe passed by Felice, and I gave a lopsided grin and wave as we did so. Felice\nlaughed back and yelled “Iuoa! Again?”

In the washroom I began rinsing my hand off but the paint\nhad already started to dry, and I was fiddling around with my fingernails\nscratching bits off. Iuoa, standing next to me, took my hand in hers and said, “It’ll\ngo faster if you just rub it, not scratch at it, like this,” and under the\nstream of water she rubbed my hand gently. And she was right, this removed the\npaint. She absently continued rubbing my hand while staring up at me, then quickly\ncaught herself and withdrew a step, wiping her hands on her jeans to dry them. She\nwas inadvertently in my way, blocking the door. She was too busy staring at the\nbulge that had developed in my pants while she had rubbed my hand and had the\ntemerity to breathe in a particularly attractive way while I was listening.

“May I?” I said, gesturing to the door, not bothering to\nhide the erection. Why be ashamed of it, especially in front of a woman?

“Uhhhh” she said. Dumbly but very cutely. “Yeah. Of course!”\nShe gave a quick little chuckle and stepped out of the way.

I considered unzipping, giving her a view, right there. But\ninstead I just said as I walked past her, “Patience, you know you’ll be seeing\nit tonight.” She blushed deeply, and nodded.

After dinner and conversation, I retired to Iuoa’s room that\nnight having kissed Felice and Prsepa goodnight. In Iuoa’s room was an\nexplanation for the paint on her hand earlier. Lest you think she was out\npainting a barn or something, no, she had been working on a delicate little oil\npainting. A simple portrait, no one I recognized, but the man on the canvas was\ncompelling. I have no attraction to men, not sexual attraction, but somehow he\nheld my gaze while Iuoa frantically cleaned up around him in a silly gesture\ntowards decorum. I stopped her by grabbing her by the waist and turning her\ntowards me, allowing my crotch to come into contact with her. “Did you paint\nhim?” I asked.

“She nodded.”

“What does he mean to you?” I asked.

She looked stunned at this question, as though she had never\nthought anyone might ask such a thing. Which is silly, because it’s obviously\nthe first thing any thinking man would ask. I kissed her stunned face and expected\na soft acquiescence but instead got an aggressive, pleasingly sensitive response,\nher tongue not “exploring” mine but finding my tongue’s angles, its shapes, its\nsensitivities. We stopped after half a minute or so.

She never did answer my question, as shortly after this kiss\nher tongue was giving my cock the same treatment it had just given my mouth.

Felice and all of her sisters are an absolute pleasure in\nbed. But only Iuoa brought forth sounds from me that I didn’t intend to make.\nHer artist’s hands expertly painted pleasure on me, and somehow her artist’s\nbody taught me by it’s movements exactly how to return the favor. Well, perhaps\nif she was artfully painting my pleasure, I was more clumsily pouring or\nsplashing it back towards her in turn. But prior to that night, I had hardly\nthought at all about whether I was “good in bed” or not. By being so incredibly\nfree with her sensitivity and empathetic skill at finding exactly my buttons,\nshe made me aspire to be able to do the same, to her, and anyone else I might\nencounter.

Amazing.

And here she is in front of me, in all her petite awkward\nmismatched glory, her hand in mine as I kiss it and she smiles nervously as she\nturns to her right and goes over to the wall to be chained there with her\nsisters Prsepa and Felice.

The kneeling girl in front of the organ suddenly sobs at\nthis point, loudly. Her father angrily shushes her from his seat in the\naudience, and her sniffles become silent.

At the entrance to the room now stands the fourth and final\nsister. Dienna. She looks up at the stage, at her restrained sisters, and then\nat the kneeling girl in front of them. This girl is Dienna’s friend, and Dienna’s\nface is hard to read as she takes in the small quiet sniffles coming from the\ngirl. As always, Dienna maintains control. Dienna thinks things through.

With almost more purposefulness than is appropriate for the\noccasion, she walks, forcing it to be a slow walk, up to me at the podium.

She casts polite smiles to her left and her right but I know\nher well enough to know that she is having a hard time being happy right now.

I met her first the same day I met Iuoa. We met at the\nfamily dinner table. She was very serious, and rarely made eye contact, seeming\nto contemplate the bread in front of her instead. Her father expressed an\nopinion about the inevitability of war with the Western nations within ten\nyears, and at this she seemed to perk up. But angrily. She cited some ancient\nthinker I have never even heard of and argued against her father. Argued\nagainst her own father! That nothing is inevitable.

And they were off to the races while Felice, Iuoa and I\nsimply watched in bemusement. It was like a sport. I am sure both Dienna and\nher father believed in what they were saying, but they were also very clearly\nsimply trying to win. And her father was enjoying himself! Immensely!

What a family!

I got to speak with her more very late that night, after\nIuoa and I had fucked a few times and Iuoa was soundly sleeping. I snuck into\nthe kitchen to see if anything was left over from dinner, and she was there, at\nthe counter, reading a book. I asked what she was reading and she told me,\nsimply, politely, without looking up, that it was a book on ethics by a woman\nwho wrote centuries and centuries ago, in the early second millennium!

I had to ask. Yes, a question like this is dangerous to ask\nin almost any context (not the question itself, but the combination of what the\nquestion was, and the sex of the person I was asking).

“Dienna, forgive me, but I have been looking for an\nopportunity to get to know you more as part of our courtship – that between me\nand your sisters and you. May I ask you a rather impertinent question?”

The idea of an impertinent question seemed to make her the\nmost interested in me that she had ever been.

“What do you think of the place women hold in our society?”\nThere. I left it open. But I was immensely curious how she would respond.

“Well!” she said, surprisingly inarticulate. She took a deep\nbreath. “Uh huh!” She laughed. I got a laugh out of her.

And then she went into it. Women, she said, were a plague.\nLiterally a plague. The Disaster of the mid-second millennium occurred entirely\nbecause women existed. When the Bug evolved from some sexually transmitted\ndisease or other and chose women to be its hosts, that was almost the doom of\nour species. Because what the Bug did, essentially, was destroy anything with a\nY Chromosome it happened to find in the woman’s womb. And in fact it managed to\ndestroy 99.99% of men, before they were even born. Before they were even conceived.\nFrom a world evenly divided, we became a world containing 10,000 women for\nevery man within a few generations.

Women weren’t directly responsible for this of course. But they\nmade themselves incubators and spreaders of the Bug by refusing to control\nthemselves to prevent its spread. That, according to Dienna, was the first\nstrike against women. As in, the Heavens were keeping score, and women fell\nshort.

Strike two involved something much more intentional on the\nancient women’s part. With 10,000 women for every man, it quickly became clear\nthat women had all the power. And they wielded it. To cruel ends. Within a\ncentury or two, practically all men were slaves, held in public trust, forced\nto fuck in public brothels their every waking hour. While women continued to\nbuild a world of comfortable living for themselves, almost all men were either\nrented out to the super rich as house sex slaves, or held in small quarters in\ncity centers as public sex slaves. And the women of those times had no\ncompunction about this whatsoever. They claimed they themselves had been held\nin some kind of bondage up until the Bug, and considered the Bug a liberator!\nHow they could believe they had been under any kind of bondage when they\nnumbered as many as the men before, is a mystery to all historians. It seems to\nhave been simply propaganda that took root because it supported women’s rights\nto fuck – and punish, toy with, humiliate, even in some cases kill – any man\nthey wished.

That was strike two. The hubris was unbearable to the\nheavens. And the heavens didn’t wait for a third strike. Despite the Society of\nWomen’s every effort, an underground resistance of both enslaved and wild\nuncaught men continued its work. Here where we stand, on this land, the men\nwere miraculously victorious, catching the women unaware as they rose up all at\nonce to kill their masters and take control. The heroes of the day were slaves\nto the highest executives of the Society of Women, and because of this, were\nable to obtain access to the keys and codes that ran the entire local area’s\ninfrastructure. And with that infrastructure as hostage, they gained the upper\nhand. Of course all the women in the area attempted to flee but the men in the\nHigh Tower made a threat to the nations around us, a threat we still don’t know\nexactly the nature of to this day, but seemingly a threat not to unleash a\nweapon but simply to reveal something. This was enough. The women of the outer\nnations turned guns on their own fleeing sisters, corralling them and returning\nthem to where they belonged, under the control of men.

And so I learned that in Dienna, I was dealing with quite\nthe conservative little intellectual. “But you have never harmed a man, have\nyou. Probably almost no woman in our nation has done so, for decades, perhaps centuries.\nIs it truly just, do you think, for us to continue keeping you, basically,\nunder our foot, in perpetuity? Is it right to punish you for what some ancient\ndead Matriarchs did centuries ago?”

I could say I was playing devil’s advocate, but the truth\nis, I neither disbelieve nor believe the assumptions that lay behind that question.\nI honestly don’t give a shit about any of that. We are where we are now, and it\nserves my purpose well. But I wanted to find out who Dienna was.

“We are monsters,” she said, finally looking at me. “Most of\nus, if you gave us a chance, would do the same thing to men that men did to\nwomen in the divine takeover. We will never learn. We have to be controlled. We\nhave to be kept away from power.”

I stared at her in amazement. I’d hardly ever heard a woman\nopine at all, much less about this. And had I wondered what a woman might say,\nit was certainly not this.

I grinned. I reached out, and I grabbed her hair. She shrank\nback, said her “ouch” and “ow,” but what could she do? Firmly grasping her hair\nand her arm I walked her over to the couch and crudely pushed her down, face\nfirst. As I pulled her skirt down she resisted but I then simply pulled her skirt\nup and swatted her as hard as I could, several times, until she submitted. I\npulled down her skirt, then her underwear, while she cried quietly, and placed\nmy dick where it belonged—at the entrance to her asshole. “Controlled like\nthis?” I asked.

“What?”

I slapped her. “Is this how women need to be controlled?”

“I don’t fucking know, why don’t you actually fucking do the\nthing first and then I’ll tell you.”

I chuckled and pressed in. No lubricating oil, but we were\nboth sweaty so with some initially painful shoves and some twitchy fucking I\nwas able to get myself inside her ass. She squealed. I wondered if her family\nwould come try to rescue her, politely offer me something gentler with one of\nthe other girls, but no one came. Perhaps they simply figured this kind of\ntreatment was the natural result of her strong will.

I spent some time fucking her ass, leaning hard on her neck\nwhile she went limp beneath me. And then I pulled out. And put my assy dick\nright up to her mouth. She closed her face up real quick and shrank back, but I\nslapped her several times until she finally opened up.

After I came in her mouth and she dribbled it out all over\nthe floor, I made her clean it up with her tongue while I drank some water. I\nsquatted down, grabbed her hair and pulled her back over to the counter where\nshe had been sitting before. I placed the book in her hands. “Keep reading,” I\nsaid, and started to walk away.

“Yes sir,” she said, and immediately obeyed. “Thank you sir.”

Alright then.

She walks up to me now in her beautiful bridal gown, and I kiss\nher hand but she’s clearly focused on her friend, crying on her knees on the\nstage. I let her go, she rushes through the Blessing, walks past the\nbridesmaids and squats down in front of her friend. I can’t hear a lot of what\nshe says, but it’s surprisingly gentle in tone. She takes her friend’s face in\nher hands and caresses it and smiles. She says something about “for your\nfamily,” and “for me,” and “thank you.” The girl quiets down, looking at the floor,\nand nods. “Okay,” she whispers and Dienna embraces her.

Dienna then takes the bouquet she’d been holding in her hand\nthroughout the interaction, and places it gently in front of the girl. Just as\nthe other three sisters had given their bouquet to their own bridesmaid, she is\nnow to leave her own flowers with her own bridesmaid. She does this, stands up,\nturns around, and immediately places her back against the wall next to her\nthree sisters and stretches her hands upwards without delay. Two of the free\nbridesmaids shackle her tightly to the wall, and the third now cuts Dienna’s\ngown off, rendering her naked.

Then she does the same to Iuoa. Then Prsepa. Then Felice.\nAnd finally, the now-quiet girl kneeling in front of the organ.

The four loves of my life stand before us all now, bound,\nstretched, nude, three of them smiling sweetly, one of them seeming, as always,\nto be thinking about future plans and higher truths.

And I am to somehow choose only one of them.

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