Story idea/synopsis - Matriarchy of Eveleen

Mar 2, 2013
Forward notes: I'm posting this in the scat forum due to the presence of human toilets and scat in the story, despite not being the dedicated focus. This alone makes it unsuitable to the other forums, even though 'Tales from the Dark Side' is where it really belongs.

This story (which I imagine will be a long work in progress) will include more or less every kind of femdom that is legal to write about, from as tame as foot worship and whipping, to as extreme as unethical experiments and human toilets, alongside a hopefully traditional narrative. You could call this a blend of femdom horror, action and occasional BDSM erotica all blended into one. That is, if it works out of course. My desire is to create a fictional femdom universe that has a sense of realism about it, in terms of back story, and a possible ‘what if’ that could happen during a worldwide dystopia. It’s also intended to not just be a sexual story (though if you like extreme femdom, there should still be a lot of that) but more than that. Other themes like war, oppression, sadism, desperation and perhaps even occasional heroism will hopefully be included in an effective way. Misandrist sexism, obviously, will also play a very large, crucial role. There will be a complete absence of mention of anyone under the age of 18 for obvious reasons. As unrealistic as that may be, suspension of disbelief will be required.

Also, I’ll be straight up from the get-go – a completed work of this story may or may not ever be finalised. It’s essentially a plan, an idea, so to speak. As someone who is both an aspiring author and intensely interested in many manners of femdom, I have great desire to write a piece like this one day. But as with every ambitious project, there’s no telling what the future, or my personal life, will bring. With that in mind...

The Matriarchy of Eveleen

The year is 2063, three decades since the Third World War which devestated the economies of the great nations of Earth. Unlike the two great wars that came before, this was not faught between two opposing sides but three: the Allies, led by the United States of America and Germany. The Slavic Coalition, led by the Russian Federation. Finally, the Red Empire, led by the People’s Republic of China, comprised the third. The war lasted for 9 years, and while nuclear weapons were never used, as all involved knew the consequences of such, the world afterwards nevertheless became an economically busted dystopia of unrivalled proportions as the three powers battled each other to a broken standstill. Anarchist and criminal groups seized power in vast swathes. The governments of Earth still officially ruled their countries, and the laws were still officially in place, but with no economy, enforcement became impossible. Over the next few decades, these nations gave way to new communities formed and ruled by ruthless, savage people who adhered to no law save their own. They built their economies through barbarism not seen since ancient times. The Matriarchy of Eveleen was one such group, and the only to be female dominated.

In 2021, three years before the beginning of the war, an underground Australian feminist movement influenced by FEMEN began their protests. This group was called Eveleen, in honour of their founder: Evelyn Hind. The group quickly dropped all pretense of feminism and openly embraced female supremacy and misandry, which were dear to Evelyn’s heart. Eveleen was labeled a terrorist organisation in 2024, months before the outbreak of war, by the Australian, New Zealand and US governments after a series of grisly male-targeted murders were attributed to the organisation. Evelyn and her closest associates went underground, and continued their actions. With the declaration of war on October 19th, the hunt for Eveleen was quickly abandoned in favour of far more important events. This allowed the misandrist group almost free reign to continue their war of terror over the course of the next 9 years, and Evelyn perfected her ideology.

With the conclusion of war on February 2nd 2033, the great nations of Earth were powerless and economically crumbled. The north and east coasts of Australia had been decimated by consistent Red Empire bombing attacks, though no Chinese, Korean or Thai boots ever touched its soil as Australian and New Zealand forces once again held the Kokoda Pass against insurmountable odds. The Red Empire’s objective of securing Australia, so as to use New Zealand as a staging base for invasion forces to America, had failed. The ‘boys’ went on the offensive, and Indonesia suffered so terribly in the ensuing chaos that it was no longer recognised as an existing country by war’s end. The betrayal of China by the United Korean Republic in late 2032, spearhead by Supreme Leader Kim un-Fong, a descendant of the North Korean dictators of old and greedy with dreams of empire, shattered the Red Empire at its core and, hounded on its northern and western fronts by Russia, was the first to surrender.

The Slavic Coalition focused its attention solely on the allies, and a massive front line was drawn through Europe, from Scandinavia in the north, through Germany and Austria to Italy in the south. For the next several months the two waged an inhumanly brutal war of attrition with neither side gaining the upper hand. Eventually, in the wasteland of Berlin, President Jonathon Brigg of the US, representing the Allies, and President Aleksi Morozov of the Russian Federation, representing the Slavic Coalition, signed the peace treaty to end hostilities. Europe had become a backwaters wasteland following widespread destruction. Only Spain and Portugal, from their far western positions, and the independent countries of the British Isles were spared that fate, though their economies were just as ruinous as everyone else’s.

Anarchist and criminal groups and organisations came to the fore like rodents, with the governments unable to combat them, and began conducting their savage businesses in the open. The Geneva Convention indeed still existed, but was rarely adhered to anymore, with no one able to uphold it. Eveleen was one of these groups to conduct their affairs openly, using the sparsely populated countryside of Australia as their bases of operations with which to conduct male-targeted raids into the barely functioning cities. As rape, murder and other heinous acts started becoming rampant and unchecked, many women started flocking to Eveleen for safety, whether they supported the groups brutal beliefs or not. By 2035, it boasted numbers in the thousands. Late in the year, Evelyn decided to campaign north, through the ruins of the Northern Territory and into what was once Indonesia. Picking one of the many completely deserted islands as a base of which to settle, the Matriarchy of Eveleen was founded on September 17th, 2035.

The women of this new island community began conducting raids into adjacent areas, bringing back male slaves as well as any women who wanted to join them, as well as as much plunder as possible with which to fund their economy. By mid-2036, news of this female-led group traveled far and wide, and women from all across the globe flocked there in large numbers for safety. Several nearby islands were occupied and it quickly began being informally known as ‘The Femme Archipelago’. As of the current year, 2063, there are as many as 900,000 Evellians (only women could become “citizens”), as well as a forever changing and unknowable number of males, which were used chiefly for slave labour, target practice and entertainment. The raids into nearby lands was made redundant by 2039, when the first breeding facilities were constructed, ensuring a constant supply of male slaves and new citizens.

After Evelyn Hind’s death in 2046, Eveleen became an oligarchy ruled by a small group of elite, powerful and highly respected/feared women. Under their leadership, Evelyn’s ideology became openly embraced by even the women who had doubted, and the Women’s Army of Eveleen (WAE) was formed, which consisted of both land and naval units. In 2055, the Reborn Amazons (called simply ‘Amazons’ for short) was formed, a small, elite military unit – essentially the special forces of Eveleen. This unit was initially formed to combat the rise of the Men’s Liberation Front (MLF), a rebellion of escaped slaves fighting the Evellian government and military. They were also used for behind enemy lines operations in other countries, and to conduct secret raids. Furthermore, they were infamous and feared for their advanced interrogation and torture techniques.

The story follows two protagonists on either side of the conflict: Marcus Wildberry, a photographer, journalist and occasional scout of the MLF, and Maria Vaughn, markswoman and interrogator-in-training of the Reborn Amazons, as well as the close associates of both, including but not limited to: Kane Trion, radioman and communications expert of the MLF, and Mikayla Rae Farrows, a ranking member of staff at one of the many male disciplinary facilities and close friend to Maria, as well as famous in Eveleen for coming first place in the annual Evellian Foot Beauty Awards, in 2061.

This story will explore the society of Eveleen and its citizens, as well as the ongoing conflict between the WAE/Amazons and the MLF.

Any feedback on this idea would be nicely appreciated. I'm posting this really to see if there is even any interest in something like this. Cheers!
May 10, 2006
Sounds very promising. Of course my preference is for lots of cruel forced foot worship while a male slave is abused by multiple women. Thanks.
Feb 7, 2011
Great beginning sadvarant, loved the build up, now I really can't wait to see what happens next! I've often fantasized about a dystopian world where women rule and take immense pleasure in abusing male slaves so it's great to see you've got the same sort of idea and have decided to write about it. I always enjoy reading stories that involve footworship and the whipping of prisoners/slaves by dominant women in positions of power however my one true love will always be human toilet slavery due to the complete humiliation and degradation involved so I'm extremely happy to see you've decided to include that in the story as well. So I really hope you continue with many more chapters and don't run out of steam which is what I'm guilty of doing with many of my stories.
Mar 2, 2013
That was really just the backstory for the setting, not really the first chapter. At the moment it's an idea I'm working on, and it'll take me some time to flesh out the setting and characters. There will be more to the characters than just dominating men/being dominated. As I said, it's an ambitious project. My aspiration is to have this be a novella, if not a full book, rather than a compilation of small chapters. I was just wondering what sort of demand there would be for such a project, and if people enjoy the idea. As well as feedback and ideas, that I'd be open to listening to.

Running out of steam is something that could be an issue, as one of my older stories (called Serving Six Emo Teens for the Weekend) was abandoned halfway due to that very issue. Though I think that was more due to me being unhappy with the writing, which was very shoddy and hack, as opposed to the concept. I feel like my writing abilities have improved over the years (I also write dark fantasy/historical fiction) and so am more confident with it. Time will tell.

Thank you three so far for the interest.
Sep 6, 2014
The setting looks promising, but I'm not a big fan of stories told from two points of view. The dominant's POV is barely exciting and breaks the immersion. Only the slave's POV does the trick for me.


Well-Known Member
Jan 28, 2003
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SadVarant - With the risk of being accused of pushing my own stories, Doesn't The Femina Island tales cover a lot of what your looking for?
Jul 21, 2009
I, for one, hope you will be able to write this story. Your synopsis has my imagination running wild at the possibilities of what could occur. Best of luck in pursuing your writing career.


New Member
Jan 25, 2013
i eagerly look forward to your story and can't wait for it to begin,i anticipate plenty of sadism with no regard for the slaves well being or life,for that matter--love to read about a cigar bar where the ashtrays and toilets are human,can you imagine the amount of expendable men that would consume???perhaps a femdom beauty salon with a cosmetics testing lab in back,slaves used as objects to test makeup and hair products,rows of slaves pumped full of mascara and hairspray!!anyway,i wish you best of luck with your project,hope to read it soon
Mar 2, 2013
This is the first draft of the short prelude, introducing some of the characters and backstory.


They were ambushed! What had been a rather ordinary romp through the jungle had erupted into a murderous chaos. From whence the enemy came, and how they had surrounded the rebels on every flank so quickly, forever remained a mystery for Marcus Wildberry. Such was the fearsome reputation and sublime execution of operations that made the New Amazons so notorious throughout South-East Asia, Oceania and the Pacific. Light machine gun fire peppered all around, ripping through the dense foliage and man flesh alike. Screams and yells, of pain, fear or from officers desperately trying to maintain order, cast an eerie sonic shadow across the battlefield, in between the sounds of automatic gunfire and explosions. Marcus was not a soldier, nor a guerrilla fighter. No, he was a simple journalist. A photographer, on a mission to show the greater world what was happening here, even if that world no longer cared. So it was with no great surprise that he was face down, head huddled in his arms, as bullets whipped just feet above him.

He was startled terribly when a body came crashing down beside him suddenly. To his relief, it was neither corpse nor Amazon, but one of his commanders.
“Fucking radios are out” Cpt. Feros Cline spat with fury.
“All fucking four of them. Riddled with gunfire. The situation is out of control Marcus” the big man said as he reloaded his AKM. “The devil’s whores have us surrounded on every side. No retreat possible and we’re hopelessly outnumbered. We can’t even see them for fuck sake!” The photographer swallowed hard, but remained silent. What could he do about it, after all?
“So I need you to do something mate. I need you...” the request was never finalised as the captain’s head burst asunder, torn in half by a very powerful gunshot.
“Jesus!” exclaimed Marcus horrifically, though no divine being could hear him over the relentless sound of savagery about him. Tears began to swell as he picked up the fallen officers rifle and prepared himself mentally for his last stand. As every rebel knows, it’s a fate worse than death to be taken alive by these foes. With admirable courage, the non-combatant propped himself up on his elbows, the barrel of the AKM positioned on a small trunk he used as cover. With a battle cry from the heart did he open fire, as an amateur would squeezing the trigger and firing full-auto, recoil sending bullets in every direction but the enemy. The muzzle flash gave him away in seconds, and he fell aside on top of the captains warm corpse as hot lead entered his torso in droves. The trunk was hollow, and provided no real defense to speak of. He breathed deeply, agony creeping into every facet of his body, and his vision began to blur.
‘So, this is the end’ he thought to himself. He was half-content, so that he would now finally be at peace after a lifetime of horror, but all-the-while saddened that his mission could not be fulfilled. He had not just failed as a journalist, or as a freedom fighter, but also as a sibling, to his dear brother in fettered chains who would now never taste freedom. His eyes closed, but his hearing remained. The gunfire began to dim, until eventually only straggler shots rang in the distance. The sharp snap of a twig adjacent to him caused his eyes to open by instinct, to face the barrel of an AUS Steyr rifle, held by a ghillie-suited mistress of death. For while their identities were completely concealed by their camouflage and equipment, the enemy were all women, of fair beauty, but of foul temperament. Horrors, and unspeakable evils filled their minds, and drove them on their crusade of misandrist genocide. They were a grim, terrible people in spite of their cosmetic triumphs.

The helpless rebel choked as a muddy green combat boot pressed horribly upon his throat.
“We got a live one here” came a stern, yet seductive voice from beyond the matted tussles of the ghillie suits hood, enshrouding her face with an ominous darkness.
“He’s wounded, but in non-vital areas. He may yet live. Should we take him or just execute the cunt?” her savage vitriol on that last word pierced Marcus to the bone. Suddenly several other ghillie-suited figures entered into view, one of them in the fore.
“Take prisoners for interrorgation. If they’re mortally wounded, finish the job with your knives. No need to waste bullets” that one said before moving on.
“Yes major” she replied sharply. “Before the end, you’ll wish she had ordered otherwise. A quick death is a mercy compared to what you’ll go through back home, insect” she addressed her captive, before sending him to sleep with a green-gloved fist.

February 14th, 2063. City of Eva-Femmalia, Capital of Eveleen.
It had been 48 hours since the battle in the southern jungles left an entire rebel division destroyed. The number of prisoners captured was classified, but unexpectedly light. The Women’s Army of Eveleen (WAE) had become increasingly brutal and lethal in their campaigns, but none so destructive as the New Amazon Special Operations Group – the Amazons! ‘The best of the best that put the rest to the test and men into prison vests’ – their notorious motto. Prisoners were becoming less and less of an objective however, as the pyramids of skulls that dot Eveleen kept piling up. Extermination was now the name of the game. Extermination of any man who dared to resist. It had always been a man’s world in the past – now the roles were being reversed in an exceptionally dark manner. The third world war, which reaped the civilisations of man for nine long years between 2024 and 2033, doomed the world to an economic apocalypse. Nuclear devastation was avoided, not a single one used, a miracle in and of itself. But the seemingly eternal battles of attrition between not two but three superpowers drained the economies and manpower of all Earth’s mighty nations. Taking advantage of the ensuing dystopia, where governments and law enforcement's had lost complete control, upstart criminal groups and bands of marauders began to take form, creating their own pseudo-nations. The Matriarchy of Eveleen was the first to become formally recognised by any country still considered official, though that recognition was dominated by fear and loathing. Choosing an abandoned Indonesian island – as Indonesia now ceased to exist, the centrepiece of conflict between the Chinese-led Red Empire and the formidable ANZAC’s – the founder of Eveleen was one Evelyn Hind, perhaps the most evil woman since countess Elisabeth Bathory. The ‘Great One’, as Evelyn herself mused of the Hungarian queen of blood lust. With her roots in an Australian female supremacist group, dubbed a terrorist organisation just before the war, she led a small group of zealots and turned them into a self-sufficient civilisation in its own right. One dominated by women, with the men subdued in servitude. Reminiscent of the ancient legends of the mythological Amazons of old. As warrior women, they conquered the upstarts that were their neighbours, enslaving the men and recruiting the women to a better, and safer world for their gender. As a dystopia brings out the beast in man, did it also bring out the black widow in the femme. Even the most savage of masculine-fueled barbarian tribes of long lost Hyborean ages paled in comparison to the overladies of Eveleen. When an economy was not only established, but even began to thrive, there was no slowing the progress and expansion of the Matriarchy, to the point where even dreams of empire have become the norm. With a population of almost a million Evellian women, and an ever-shifting number of male slaves - many since born into servitude via the controversial and terrible breeding facilities on Lapis Island – their culture had become one of the largest, and strongest in this new, harsh world.

“Marcus Wildberry is the insects name” informed one Evellian to the other. They stood on the far side of a magic mirror, observing the battered and wounded man strapped to a table, crying and moaning pitifully.
“Its wimperings are laughable” remarked the other.
“Every one of those rebel dogs know what to expect when captured. We have the fear of hell fire in them, and this one shall experience that fear firsthand. To a degree unprecedented, I should hope” The other Evellian inched closer to her companion, and placed her arm around her shoulder.
“I look forward to this, as I always do Mikka. Learning from you with these scumbags as our tools. It is always delightful” the crimson-haired Mikayla Rae Farrows, or Mikka to her friends, giggled, as like a school girl. Hardly expected for a woman of such ruthless and morbid station at Farley Disciplinary and Correctional Centre, one of the most infamous places and sites of incomprehensible sadism in all Eveleen. Yet, the youthful enthusiasm of her closest friend and student in the art of interrogation, Maria Vaughn, always made her giddy with joy. To see a young, beautiful and well-accomplished New Amazon markswoman delight in such atrocities in a circumstance intimately more personal than the battlefield, roused Mikayla’s heart. The braided blonde looked intently at the piece of practice meat as he began to stur and struggle in his restraints. The inner walls of her vagina began to moisten at the thought of what was to come. While out in the field with her sisters in arms, she had to remain professional and focused. Alert. Precise. Especially as a markswoman – never distracted. But here, in the less-urgent conditions of the interrogation facilities, she could let loose and enjoy herself, so long as her duties were also fulfilled. Indeed, it was a common practice for interrogators and discipliners to sexually enjoy their work, in the tradition of Evelyn Hind and the great Countess Bathory of history. Though they kept it discreet from the eyes of their victims.

Maria graced the belt around her jeans with the tips of her long slender fingers, the vibrant yellow-painted nails contrasting with the black work about to be done. She inched the tip of her index down the fore of her jeans, touching the summit of her clit. She ushered a soft, whispered moan.
“Excited already babe?” Mikka winked, twisting her long, curled hair of fire with a finger. Maria regained her composure and let loose a slightly shy giggle.
“I remember that early joy, hon. Embrace it. There comes a time when, eventually, after long years of such activity you start to become numb to it. Torturing these animals excites the flesh, the carnal lust, in the early years. Now, for me, it’s just business as usual. I’ve put the insects through every manner of trial – physical and mental, painful and degrading. I’ve gouged out eyes with my bare toes, used their bodies as a toilet, caused agonising death from the slow bleed out of vicious sodomy. I’ve poured acid down their urethra’s. Made them consume their own severed manhoods – disgusting parasite worms that they are. I’ve pulled out their teeth with pliers and worn them around my neck as an amulet of suffering. All these and more, much more, gave me such pleasure at your age. But now I’ve seen and done it all, aye, and it has thus become normal. Too normal, perhaps. Now I derive my pleasure from watching you young ones do it. How I envy you at times, Maria” the young blonde, with her cheerily freckled face, smiled warmly at her friend and trusted mentor.
“But remember always the golden rule” the ruby-locked Rae Farrows warned. “Never show sexual satisfaction in front of your tool. You must always present a fierce, terrifying visage to them. It is well difficult to control your seething lust at times, oh I know that well. But hold off until your session is done or the subject loses consciousness before giving in to ultimate pleasure. That sensual carnality is, perhaps, our greatest weakness as women. Never reveal it to any insect who is not your own personal property. Even then, do so cautiously and with an accompanied beating, so that he may never question your strength.” Her student paid great attention to all the lectures and words of wisdom that she gave her. Such potential gladdened Mikka, and, above any other of her pupils, her dear friend was by far her favourite to instruct and work with.
“Thank you for your advice, Mikka. I always honour it, and you always strive to make me a stronger woman. To make proud the great Evelyn Hind, whose legacy we all try to preserve.” The mentor nodded with approval of those words, and, noticing that Marcus had fallen back to his small, temporary coma of peace, changed the subject.

“So tell me, how was it down south? We haven’t really discussed it yet” the two grim angels left the observation room and into a small, comly break room. Sitting on opposed luxury couches, they removed their boots and propped their feet on cushioned stools. Mikayla called for her slave, Feral, as she named him, her personal slave. Feral entered the room immediately, dressed in the maroon uniform that indicates a man belongs to an Evellian as personal property, While the uniform, resembling coloured denim overalls in appearance, but of cloth in make and complete with simple black shoes, covered his entire body, the exposed neck and midriff around the collar betrayed the hideously scarred flesh that was hidden beneath. He was missing his left eye, destroyed after a fit of rage induced by his audacity to backchat one of the harshest women in all of Eveleen, and wore a black eye patch over it. He also had no tongue or vocal chords after a second repeating of that offence. Quite clearly, there has never been a third.

“Coffee” was the only word Mikka uttered to him, and with a snap of her fingers he had left the room. No eye contact was made, for it was not necessary.
“Well” Maria began, inspecting the emerald and sapphire ring that adorned the second toe of her right foot, sparkling terrifically alongside the bright, summery yellow polish.
“It started poorly. Actually, that was a bloody understatement. Sgt. Carsborg contracted malaria during the first night of the operation , when we had to cross the marshes. It was the best way to approach the rebels from the flanks, as the swamps are about the only damn place they don’t dig themselves in like ticks.”
“...and that’s exactly what they are” casually interrupted Mikka. “Fucking ticks!”
“Too true” Maria retorted with a chuckle. “Anyway, Echo squad is sent back to carry her to an evac chopper, so we’re now under strength. Under Major Leslie Sutherfawn’s command we push on. By the third day of the op, we’re in the hills, ridiculously dense terrain with constant threat of ambush. We set up several defensive harbours in key positions, secured by trip wires and claymores ‘round the perimeter. That night the recon teams are sent out, with night and thermal vision equipment. They report back in the morning that there isn’t just a rebel encampment out here, or even a platoon or company. No, there’s only an entire fucking regiment of the bastards. Morale among the girls quickly took a hit. I mean, there was what? Minus Echo squad, there would have been around 64 of us. The hell could we do against hundreds? Well, time proved that we could do a lot, but we didn’t know that. Still, death before dishonour. Maj. Sutherfawn delayed any assault by three days, and continuously sent out recon patrols, of which I was attached to several. We drew crude maps, worked out elevations, which parts of the jungle contained the thickest foliage, and so on and so forth. We beat the guerrillas at their own fuckin’ game. The day of assault came, Echo had thankfully returned so our strength was again at capacity. We cammed up, put on our ghillies, locked and loaded. My Dragunov rifle was eager for the pink mist, despite our concerns regarding the outcome of this mission. We used the thickest, densest parts of the jungle , and the darkness of night, to cover us. We ensured our tracks were concealed behind us, and we set up positions of cross fire. Then we hunkered down, and waited.”
Mikayla listened with wide interest. Sadism was her realm, warfare was most certainly not. So she always enjoyed hearing her young friends military tales. Before she could continue, Feral had returned. He handed the black with two sugars to his Mistress, and the white with one to Maria. He was trained well in this regard, and was by all accounts a fine coffee maker. He just spoke too much, evidently. Not anymore.
“Foot message. Miss Vaughn first” Mikka ordered, and with another snap of her fingers, Feral was on his knees at Maria’s feet. His thumbs caressed and stroked her large, soft soles while the fingers simultaneously rubbed and playfully pinched her toes. Usually, a slaves tongue would accompany the typical Evellian foot message, but not in this case. Mikayla had often cursed her quick decision to cut out Feral’s tongue forever after that. Even considered killing him and just getting a new one, but despite those old, now non-existent flaws, he was a good, well trained slave that had served faithfully. He was one of those oft-desired few who had become content with his place in this society. That alone secured his continued living. Slaves that were bred and sold as personal property were always at the whim of their Mistresses, but in general, they got it a little easier than the rest. After all, no one wants to really damage their own property outside of what is absolutely necessary. Besides, it certainly wasn’t cheap to own one as every personal slave is one less that can be used by the state, so high recompense was required. Maria sipped her coffee, embraced the relaxing sensation of the message, and continued her story.

“Eventually, the enemy came. In the early hours of the morning, with the sun just starting to peer through the canopy, though jungles are dark by their very nature. Turns out, there weren’t quite as many as we had feared. It’s assumed that a significant fraction of their regiment had broken off in the night and proceeded elsewhere. In any case, there were still a couple hundred of them. They waltzed right into our trap. The LMGs were the first to go off, accompanied by some of the claymores we had placed. The first priorities of us markswomen is to eliminate the radios first, if possible. I nailed two of them, the dickheads were in close proximity to each other. Shoot the radios in the right spot and they’re well fucked. With communications busted, any enemy falls into a panic and discipline breaks down. It was pretty easy work after that. Identify the commanders, nail ‘em. Break down their morale further. At that point, a lot of them get up to bolt, but they become easy targets. Charlie and Foxtrot squads had successfully maneuvered to the direction the rebels came from, encircling them completely and cutting them off. It was butchery that followed. When they ceased resisting, we started to move in, executing stragglers and taking wounded prisoners. Our original mission was one of complete eradication, but since they were part of an unexpected regiment, Maj. Sutherfawn gave the order to take prisoners. We needed to find out what these pricks were up to.”
“...and so, here we are. With a prisoner to interrorgate” mused Mikka.
“Yep. Looking forward to it hon, as always.” She then pushed Feral away by kicking his forehead with the ball of her foot.
“I think it’s your Mistresses turn” The slave turned at once and proceeded to give the same message to Mikayla’s feet. They were feet of no small reknown either, having come first place in the Evellian Foot Beauty Awards of 2061, an annual event to celebrate the beauty of the women’s foot, which is treat with considerable esteem in Eveleen. Indeed, one of the heraldic symbols of the Matriarchy is that of a jewel-encrusted sandled foot with the toes bent, displaying a powerful arch. Mikayla’s feet were of a medium size, with fair length toes, all perfectly proportioned in size and shape relevant to the adjacent toes and exquisitely trimmed and kempt nails, polished a rich shiny chrome in this case, though dark colours were generally her norm. The soles were like a small ocean of wrinkles, each following the one in front like waves. Maria envied her mentors feet, and wished her own were of the same pristine quality. Despite assurances of their own beauty, Maria never did like the case of Morton's toe that she had, and thought her feet were a bit too large. ‘Soldiers feet’, as she referred to them. But when off-duty and adorned with polish, jewels and softened with lotion, they were certainly nothing to scoff at.

“Well I’m glad the mission was a resounding success at least.” Mikka stated as she impressively drained the last of her coffee with a giant, perhaps accidentally vast gulp. “Any casualties?”
“A few” Maria replied. “No fatalities yet, thankfully. Sgt. Carsborg is still in hospital getting her malaria treated and Lcpr. Deidre is in critical condition with a gunshot wound to the neck. I hope, by Bathory’s blessing, they both pull through. There were other injuries, but fortunately nothing serious.”
“Evelyn’s mercy with them. It is heroines work that you do. Putting your lives on the line at home against the MLF and abroad against distant enemies. The Great Hind gave rise to Eveleen, but it was really built on the backs and breasts of good, strong fighting women such as yourself. Women with the courage to stand against the beasts of the wasteland, and put them in their place, in shackles and fetters, and crushed underfoot. They’re insects, and you Amazons are the pesticide. My love for you and your dear sisters is eternal.” A tear of passion crept down Maria’s cheek, and her lip trembled.
“Thank you for those words, Mikayla. Babe, they mean so much to me.” The red-headed femme forced Feral’s face into the carpet with her heel, and stood over him. She leaned in and the two friends hugged. For quite some time, in point of fact. Feral was lucky to be in the presence of such an emotional connection between two, otherwise hard women. Few slaves ever get that honour.

Mikayla wiped away a tear with her fingertip and spoke eagerly: “Well, let’s go have some fun, shall we? We have an interrogation to conduct, after all.”

Feral swallowed hard, silently thanking whatever gods may exist that it was not him in that chamber...
Feb 7, 2011
Great start and very well written, really loved all of the descriptive detail that went into it. I actually wondered why the plot to this story seemed vaguely familiar to me then after thinking about it for awhile I realized it reminded me of a great movie called 'America 3000' that I'd watched about 18 years ago and had completely forgotten about until now which was also based on the same sort of idea as your story so I'd recommend watching that as well if you haven't seen it.
As far as future chapters go if you decide to continue, which I really hope you do, would love to read about male slaves being worked to exhaustion under the female whip, they could maybe be working in a stone quarry or some sort of mine somewhere or perhaps simply just harvesting crops outside in the hot sun for 20 hours a day, anything really that involves them doing hard physical labor under the watchful eye of the female overseers where the slightest hint of slacking off results in a merciless whipping for the slave.
Also looking forward to the future human toilet scenes, can't wait to see how they torture the male prisoners/slaves with Scat. I personally prefer forced toilet slavery myself where the male is completely immobile, either chained up or strapped down so he can't move in the slightest and has no choice but to either swallow the waste or have it fall all over his face depending on the scene and type of toilet that he is attached to. It would be good to use a freshly captured prisoner of the resistance for something like this, someone who still has some fight left in them instead of an already broken down and obedient slave. It could be someone like a captured high ranking rebal commander who still has some pride left in him so to degrade and humiliate him they use him as a toilet. But anyway that's just an idea so really looking forward to seeing what you come up with in the next part!
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Feb 7, 2011
I think if your planning on writing alot of chapters then your probably better off just keeping it to one thread, it simply makes it easier to keep track of the story plus its also good for people who want to go back and reread different chapters again or for the new readers who won't have to search the whole forum for each different part they need.
Mar 2, 2013
Hey guys. I apologise gravely for this, but the story is discontinued as of this point on. The reason was initially unexpected, but is something I need to do. Long story short: I've been reflecting on my life, who I am as a person and who I want to be, and I realise femdom (at least the more extreme elements) is incompatible with that goal. I cannot really be proud of who I am, or confident in myself, with such dark secrets and knowing that I am a social pariah. This is no offense or judgement of anyone else involved in scat or extreme femdom, it's just my own personal reflection and what I feel I need to do, for sake of my life and mental health.

For what it's worth, I thank you for the interest you have shown in this young project. Anyone who is interested in the setting I was creating has my full permission to continue it as they see fit, if someone so desires.

Apologies again, and farewell.
Mar 2, 2013
Hey guys. Sorry to be going back and forth on what I am doing, but I've decided to return and continue this story. I tried with all full intentions of putting scat, and other extreme forms of femdom, behind me as I've had trouble respecting myself, or carrying myself with pride, with such a warped sexuality. To be fair, I did last over a month without looking at any, but I couldn't stop myself from fantasising or thinking about it, and when I eventually did cave and watch a video, my excitement levels blew through the roof. It's as if attempting to be rid of it only made it stronger.

Oh well, perhaps I'll try another day, but for now I'm just trying to accept it. I enjoyed working on this fiction, so I thought I'd come back and continue work on it.
Likes: gogo42170
Jan 28, 2018
Hey guys. Sorry to be going back and forth on what I am doing, but I've decided to return and continue this story. I tried with all full intentions of putting scat, and other extreme forms of femdom, behind me as I've had trouble respecting myself, or carrying myself with pride, with such a warped sexuality. To be fair, I did last over a month without looking at any, but I couldn't stop myself from fantasising or thinking about it, and when I eventually did cave and watch a video, my excitement levels blew through the roof. It's as if attempting to be rid of it only made it stronger.

Oh well, perhaps I'll try another day, but for now I'm just trying to accept it. I enjoyed working on this fiction, so I thought I'd come back and continue work on it.
Hope you were successful in all your endeavours, and I'm sure that everyone here wishes you the best. Thank you for your stories!!