#FemaleRule

[maidenson88]

AMAZON WOMEN'S PROTOCOLS — A STORY FROM THE GYNARCHIC WORLD BEFORE THE CATASTROPHE — 1ST PART

"His job was to ensure the toilets and that the floors of the bathroom remained spotlessly clean. For a seemingly simple job, it was surprisingly demanding. The club was usually opened from 5 PM to 10 AM and during this time it was visited by hundreds of empowered Women. During the weekends when Women went out partying and the club was full, he could barely keep up the peace. Every time a Lady used a toilet, he was supposed to crawl into her cubicle and clean it. In between cleaning the cubicles he was supposed to scrub the floors, pick up the trash and even clean the Ladies footwear if She wished/wanted for. What made his job even more difficult was the strict male domestic protocol that required him to always display an utmost servility and abasement. A crawler wasn’t supposed to live for a minute without constantly reminding him and his surrounding of what he was... A lower form of life. When in the presence of a Woman he was supposed to drop everything and kowtow before Her with his forehead touching the ground."

PART I

In a Female Dominated Society male creatures are governed by the rule of Female Law. Even a uniquely Utopian Society such as the New Amazonia State required a complex set of Gynarchy & Matriarchal laws to ensure a peaceful and productive coexistence for its Lady Citizens and their unquestionable rule over their male domestic slaves. Indeed the Amazon Law regulated many aspects of the New Amazonian Society. It protected Women’s rights and freedoms, regulated the personal relationships between Women and their relations to their property, including their male domestic slaves.

The most striking feature of the Amazon Law was its benevolent nature in addressing its Female subjects. In an advanced form of society, built on mutual respect and cooperation between Women, there was little need for coercion. For the most part the Amazon Law provides a guidance for Women on how to lead a meaningful and productive life in the Female Amazonian State.

This apparently humane and benevolent nature of the Amazon Law took a sharp turn when it came to dealing with males, on whom it often exerted the utmost cruelty. Lady-Amazons saw males as irrational, dangerous and atavistic creatures that were best kept under firm control of the Female. Thus the Female Authorities of New Amazonian State kept a close watch on a handful of free males that were allowed to live on the territory of the Amazonian State.

The Amazon Law had very little patience with those who breached the rules of Gynarchy & Matriarchy World Order. Many a male domestic slaves who toiled under the yoke of his Female Owners would gave anything to return to that day when he stole a Woman’s purse or broke into a store. But his choice was now long forgone since the establishment of the new Female rule in the world.

Once a man was condemned to live the rest of his days in forced labor as a slave, he literally ceased to exist and a new being was brought into life in his place. A wretched being whose sole reason of existence was to serve the Superior Gender the Lady-Citizens of New Amazonian State. A being resembling a human being, yet a being that was infinitely inferior to human before Woman.

A male slave.

PART II

The Amazon Law regulated the lives, or more precisely, the existence of male domestic slaves down to the last detail. Even so, it would be superficial to assume that it somehow addressed them. Male domestic slaves were not considered human beings in New Amazonia State, so they were not really subject to the law in the strict sense of the term. A male domestic slave was always ruled by the Female mind. He was either subject to the whim of an individual Lady or to the collective mind of the Female community. The detailed rules the male domestic slaves had to follow were best thought of as a convenient tool to assist a Lady-Citizen in Her everyday interactions with the male domestic slaves.

Once you think about it, it all makes perfect sense. Amazon males were as slavish as a slave can be. They had no rights and no free will of their own. Amazon Women took great effort in thoroughly reducing their male domestic slaves to the condition of abject servility. During their training they were tormented, crushed, dehumanized and ultimately molded into spineless, blindly obedient automaton male drones.

An Amazon Lady would found it disgusting to imagine that Her male domestic slave possessed even a shred of a free will. For them a male domestic slave was a hollow creature, devoid of any other thought or feeling other than fear the Female and the need to obey Her. As such he was an intrinsically passive male creature. He stayed put up on his abasement until given an order by a Woman.

The lack of personality and ability to think independently of his Mistress made an Amazon slave an ideal multipurpose tool. An Amazon slave combines the resilience and efficacy of the machine with the unique slavishness that can only be found in sentient beings. As most Amazon Women would put it: "Using a robot is not anywhere near than using an actual male domestic slave."

But as it happened, reducing a male to this wretched state came with a price in the New Amazon State. Amazon slaves lacked initiative and required orders to everything and to function properly. It would be terribly inconvenient for Women if they would have to order male domestic slaves around all the time. Wash the dishes! Clean the toilet! Vacuum my room! Polish my boots! Kowtow in my presence! These were all repetitive tasks that male domestic slaves should generally perform without being told so directly in another Gynarchy Sector. Indeed, there were many situations when the presence of a Woman was simply untenable. Male domestic slaves working in unpleasant environments definitely required a whip every now and then for this purpose, but one Female Authority could hardly ask a taskMistress to descend into the sewers just to inspect the sewage of these male domestic slaves for doing their job and what it was required from them to do.

To overcome these drawbacks, complex sets of rules, known as "Amazon Protocols," were enacted in the New Amazonia State. Male domestic's Amazon Protocols regulated the male slave’s behavior down to the last detail. They dictated him when to eat, when to sleep, when and where to work, etc. Amazon Protocol was essentially a male domestic slave’s autopilot. In the absence of a direct order from an Amazon Woman, Amazon Protocol kept the male domestic slaves busy, usually close to their limits.

Amazon slaves did not really learn their protocols. Their protocols were rather implemented in their minds with the help of classical conditioning by Female Trainers of the New Amazonian State. The process was rather simple. Failure to meet the requirements of Amazon Protocols resulted in pain for the male creatures. Only after the male domestic slave had been thoroughly conditioned, only after he had been broken and dehumanized, only after the last remnants of his personality had been squeezed out and replaced by the Amazon Protocols and the slavish instinct, only then could a male slave truly became a generic being just like a male drone. Only then could he be released into the Female Society of the New Amazonia State to meet his ultimate purpose... "To serve the Superior Gender of Women in the Amazon Society."

PART III

Slave Grub was currently busy following his Amazon Protocol in a rather lavishly decorated Ladies room in the capital of New Amazonia State. Grub wasn’t his real name. Male slaves had no names here. They had a number and a barcode tattooed on the back of their heads, which was more than sufficient to keep them apart. Still, Ladies sometimes found it convenient to name a slave, especially if he served indoors. So without giving it much thought his Female owners named him Grub. A fairly common name for a male slave of his category. Quite appropriate too, as he was spending his days crawling on hands and knees.

For a male slave of his category, being close to the ground came natural in the New Amazonia State. The lower the male slave was in terms of male slaves categories, the more oppression and dehumanization he had to endure around the Amazon Women. And slave Grub was certainly near the bottom of the slave ladder. Male slaves in his category were colloquially known as "crawlers" as they literally spent their entire lives crawling on hands and knees in the floor. Indeed, it wasn’t physically possible for them to move around any other way. Their ability to walk upright was medically disabled during the process of their blessed transformation by the Amazon Women Specialists for this purpose.

As pathetic as these male slaves might be, the process of transforming men into slave crawlers was nevertheless a remarkable achievement of the New Amazonia State. It was a scientific accomplishment as much as it was a demonstration of Female cruelty and determination in suppressing the criminal and antisocial elements among these male creatures. Amazon Women see little good in locking male criminals away in prisons where they would live on their expense with everything paid off by the Amazon State. Criminals shouldn’t simply been hidden away as in some Utopian fantasy worlds where nothing bad ever happens to them. On the contrary, male criminals should been rendered harmless, enslaved and finally exposed to the public so everyone can saw what happened when an inferior male rised against the Natural Order of Women's Control & Rule.

PART IV

Slave Grub payed for his offense dearly and had been continued to pay for it for as long as he lived there in the New Amazonian State. Not long ago he was convicted of armed robbery. As a violent offender he received a swift and merciless punishment. After being convicted by a Female Court of Amazon Law, he was taken away to the slave reformation center, where he underwent a number of medical procedures, followed by excruciating slave training. What resulted was a peaceful docile male creature that crawled around on all fours and threw himself on the ground pressing his face into the dirt every time he heard an Amazon Woman walking towards him, blessed be the Gynarchic Women!

The male slave training was a never ending ordeal of pain and humiliation for the slave. Prison taskMistresses had only one job: "To break his spirit and reduce him into a subhuman." They were mostly young Women in their twenties who were drunk with power they held over the male slaves. They took turns torturing and humiliating him in every way they could think off. They placed a saddle on his back and took turns riding him around the prison reformation center until his hands and knees were bleeding. They stretched him on a rack. They trampled him, jumped on him. The regularly whipped him and kicked him. Spit on him. They even make him eat the mud of their boot soles. And they laughed and joked while they were doing it. Just as how it was supposed to be in any Amazonian Gynarchy Sector.

After that came the boredom... "He was taken to the slave market and locked up in a tiny cell underground with nothing to do all day but wait for his prospective buyer." He could see other male slaves lingering in their cages. No one uttered a word. There was nothing to talk about. They were crawlers and crawlers don’t talk. The days were passing by in silence in the Wonderful New Amazonian State.

Crawlers weren’t in high demand and visitors to this place were rare in the New Amazonian State. "Usually the slave market was full of Amazon Women checking on new male slaves to buy, but they rarely descended into the crawlers' department underground. They were more interested in personal male domestic slaves, thralls, beasts of burden, pony-boy slaves to pull carriages and of course young & handsome pleasure male domestic slave-boys in their teenage years something between their 12 and 20 years of age." Slave crawlers simply weren’t as useful as other slaves, so they were mostly bought by rich Women who wished to add designated footslave or floorscrubber to their collection of male slaves in the Utopian Female World.

PART V

Slave Grub was eventually acquired by one of the popular downtown clubs to serve them as a cleaning male slave. "As a crawler he was assigned a particularly tedious and demeaning job. Since the day he was brought there, his world was reduced to the interior of a Female restroom." The opaque automatic doors that lead in and out of the restrooms were the beginning and the end of his world. He barely dared to look at them to the Young & Empowered Amazon Women. He was strictly prohibited from leaving the restroom. And violation of this rule would naturally result in a harsh punishment for him.

After a month or so he knew the geography of the restrooms to the last detail. "The Female restroom contained twenty toilet cubicles, each containing a toilet that he was supposed to clean. It also contained twenty bathroom sinks that were off limits for him." A creature that crawls on all fours cleaning the toilets and scrubbing the floor has no place cleaning the place where Ladies wash their hands. "Bathroom sinks were cleaned by another male slave who wandered into the Ladies room every couple of hours at the Amazon Club."

"He worked 18 hours a day. All the time he was not working he was locked in a tiny cell that was hidden behind the wall. His day began a few minutes before 10 AM, when a Waitress let him out of his cell and fed him a tasteless slave slop gruel that She placed on a bowl on the floors next to his cell. He ate it in a hurry, watching Her heels clicking on the floor tiles a few centimeters from his face. She was always so impatient. He barely managed to eat his meal when She kicked his bowl away and showed him to work." Blessed be the Gynarchic Women!

PART VI

"His job was to ensure the toilets and the floors of the bathroom remained spotlessly clean." For a seemingly simple job, it was surprisingly demanding. "The Amazon Club was usually open from 5 PM to 10 AM and during this time it was visited by hundreds of Women. During the weekends, when Women went out partying and the club was full, he could barely keep up the peace. Every time a Lady-Citizen used a toilet, he was supposed to crawl into Her cubicle and clean it. In between cleaning the cubicles he was supposed to scrub the floors, pick up the trash and even clean the Ladies footwear if She wished & demanded for it."

"What made his job even more difficult was the strict Amazon Protocol that required him to always display an utmost servility and abasement." A crawler wasn’t supposed to live for a minute without constantly reminding him and his surrounding of what he was. A lower form of life in the presence of Amazon Women. "When in the presence of a Woman he was supposed to drop everything and kowtow before Her with his forehead touching the ground." Blessed be the Gynarchic Women!

"It wasn’t like Women actually appreciated his displays of devotion for the Female Gender. Most of the time they simply ignored him, walking past his kowtowing body as if he was some sort of an object. The only exception was when they required his shoeshine services." Blessed be the Gynarchic Women! "The bathroom contained a shoeshine chair close to the exit. If a Lady-Citizen wished or demanded to have Her shoes cleaned, She would simply sit in the designated chair and yell at him. She didn’t need to say anything else. The male slave’s instinct was responsible to bring him up underneath Her. And if he didn’t notice Her sitting or yelling at him there because he was so busy wet-sponging the toilet seats, well, then too bad for him! The punishment for negligence was certainly a harsh one." Blessed be the Gynarchic Women!

END OF 1ST PART — TO BE CONTINUED.

SUMMARY

Today we were able to immerse ourselves in the New Amazonian State one of the most beautiful Gynarchic Sectors of the Gynarchic World and we were able to read what the Golden Times of the Gynarchic World were like. Certainly, we are a privileged generation, as other generations did not have this privilege. The New Amazonian State was truly a wonderful state where the Female rule was truly established in their society and where Women were the Superior Gender.

In this Amazonian Society we were able to learn how there were different categories of "slavery" for the male creatures. Being Grub in one of the lowest of this hierarchies. Certainly Grub was the star of the night at the Amazon Club because without his service to this Club of Powerful Amazon Women the toilets would have remained dirty, as well as the floor of the Female restrooms.

One of the important aspects to highlight for this wonderful lecture is the training received by these "rebellious males" at the correction center of the New Amazonian city. This harsh training for these male creatures was a highlight point for the Amazon Women, because this corrective training helped these lost males to get back on track under the Rule of Women and this help to the fullest development of the Amazonian Gynarchic State.

One of the most beautiful things about this story was the description of the slave market of the Amazon Women, in very few sites you can learn of "how it was" in the Gynarchic World, and here this is described in detail which I thought is something phenomenal. And it says I quote: "Usually the slave market was full of Amazon Women checking on new male slaves to buy, but they rarely descended into the crawlers' department underground. They were more interested in personal male domestic slaves, thralls, beasts of burden, pony-boy slaves to pull carriages and of course young & handsome pleasure male domestic slave-boys in their teenage years something between their 12 and 20 years of age." This is one of the most beautiful parragraphs that I've ever read about the Utopian Female World.

I must say that the description of Grub's work schedule at the Amazon Club also stands out because the detailed description of his schedule is so well described that it truly takes us back to the Golden Times of the Gynarchic World Where Women Ruled With Iron Hand. And it says I quote: "He worked 18 hours a day. All the time he was not working he was locked in a tiny cell that was hidden behind the wall. His day began a few minutes before 10 AM, when a Waitress let him out of his cell and fed him a tasteless slave slop gruel that She placed on a bowl on the floors next to his cell. He ate it in a hurry, watching Her heels clicking on the floor tiles a few centimeters from his face. She was always so impatient. He barely managed to eat his meal when She kicked his bowl away and showed him to work." Blessed be the Gynarchic Women Everywhere because this is so beautiful without anything that could match it.

Finally, I want to highlight the attitude that the Gynarchic Women had towards Grub because that is certainly the right attitude that any Gynarchic Woman must have around the lowest of the male domestic slaves which is "to ignore" the crawlers and this is correct because they certainly were Gynarchic Women they were not any other type of vanilla Women, and that teach us how is the proper & correct way of behavior of true Gynarchal Women especially of young Women around these type of male slaves. And it says I quote: "It wasn’t like Women actually appreciated his displays of devotion for the Female Gender. Most of the time they simply ignored him, walking past his kowtowing body as if he was some sort of an object. The only exception was when they required his shoeshine services." Blessed be the Gynarchic Women Everywhere! "The bathroom contained a shoeshine chair close to the exit. If a Lady-Citizen wished or demanded to have Her shoes cleaned, She would simply sit in the designated chair and yell at him. She didn’t need to say anything else. The male slave’s instinct was responsible to bring him up underneath Her. And if he didn’t notice Her sitting or yelling at him there because he was so busy wet-sponging the toilet seats, well, then too bad for him! The punishment for negligence was certainly a harsh one." Blessed be the Gynarchic Women Everywhere!

Blessed be the Gynarchic Goddess!

#FemaleSupremacy #Gynarchy #Matriarchy #AmazonWomen #AmazonState #GynarchicWorld #GynarchyLiterature #Gyneocracy #FemaleRule #GynarchicGoddess #NewAmazonianState

[emilycollageart]

My mind keeps going back to queens. This is the end of female figureheads in this country in my lifetime. #longlivethequeen #queenvictoria #queenelizabethii #royalfamily #endofanera #femalerulers #femalefigureheads #powerfulwomen handmdadecollage #contemporarycollage #cutandpaste #thecollagetemple #artistofinstagram #コラージ#collageoftheday #twincitiescollagecollective #design #theinternationalcollageguild#contemporarycollagemagazine #edinburghcollagecollective https://www.instagram.com/p/CiSIAAYqrEq/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#longlivethequeen #queenvictoria #queenelizabethii #royalfamily #endofanera #femalerulers #femalefigureheads #powerfulwomen #contemporarycollage #cutandpaste #thecollagetemple #artistofinstagram #コラージ #collageoftheday #twincitiescollagecollective #design #theinternationalcollageguild #contemporarycollagemagazine #edinburghcollagecollective

[agatorlove]

“Though the sex to which I belong is considered weak you will nevertheless find me a rock that bends to no wind’ -Elizabeth I, Queen of England and Ireland (1533-1603)

#womanshistorymonth #queen elizabeth i of england #womanofpower #femalerulers #femalemonarchs

[webofinfluence]

Highhorn 💣🗡💥📯 embroidery silk, linen, bamboo, spray paint, varnish 13 x 14.5 x 1.2cm Many times the light of Alva Merris has passed by this place since the horn of Highhorn has barked its call across the Midland marches in search of allies. Ann-Maela Arranoss looked west as the sun dipped below the ragged skyline and the long shadows turned to dusk and then to darkness. Her left hand dropped to the pommel of her longsword and she shuddered at the memory of the knights of Deadwater. They had come, and she had stopped them with black powder and the loss of half the castle. £360 inc post and packing 20% of all sales goes to @givewellorganization a brilliant organisation who have done tons of research for us enabling donations to go to causes where they can save or improve the most human lives. #art #tomjohnsonart #painting #castles #embroidery #アート #embroiderysilk #現代アート #landscape #景色 #castle #handembroidery #worldbuilding #onne #holdfast #village #villagelife #halfgone #knightsofdeadwater #arranoss #femalerulers #darkness #alvamerrisisthesun #promiseofabrokenfuture #bombs #change #seasons #blackwood #swords #pommel (at Somewhere out in the Middle of Nowhere) https://www.instagram.com/p/COcPjiNFurx/?igshid=1gbx0uu15nljr

#art #tomjohnsonart #painting #castles #embroidery #アート #embroiderysilk #現代アート #landscape #景色 #castle #handembroidery #worldbuilding #onne #holdfast #village #villagelife #halfgone #knightsofdeadwater #arranoss #femalerulers #darkness #alvamerrisisthesun #promiseofabrokenfuture #bombs #change #seasons #blackwood #swords #pommel

[prettycanarybird]

Chapter 5

With a start, I jolted back to consciousness. The spasm sent a shockwave of pain up and down my side, stealing my breath away. There was an echo of pain in my forearm, but nothing compared to my battered and sliced ribs. It took every ounce of control to stay silent, biting my lip till I tasted blood. Even if I had wanted to struggle more, I couldn’t. Rough rope looped around my wrists, pinning them to my sides. My feet were tied as one, thankfully my boots protecting my ankles.

The pain made my vision spin and it took a few moments, four or five shallow breaths, before things came into focus. We were in a small room, several lanterns lit casting a warm glow, so night must have begun to fall. I was laying upon a wooden cot, straw or something of the like, stuffed behind my head for a pillow. Hera was on her stomach on a similar cot, her wrists bound closer to her head. She was watching me, her eyes glazed over with pain or something else, I couldn’t make out in the dancing shadows. What I could see was the way her eyes shifted when she saw me try to move.

“Stay still, General.” Her young voice was reassuring. “That rib didn’t look so good when they brought you in.”

I blinked at her a few times. How could she be trying to comfort me in such a time? I was her general, even more so, I was her empress. It was my job to get her home, safe, and I was failing miserably. 

“Oh, well.” I didn’t bother to even look down at my side. No doubt it was a few broken ribs which were probably bruising colorfully, and stitches through an angry red cut. If I was lucky, the scar would heal up attractively. If not? Well, I had plenty of others that it could join. “Did I tell you,” I attempted to shift and sucked in air when my side objected too much, “about the time that Gil’s stubborn horse threw me?”

Hera shook her head. 

“Broke a lot more ribs than I have right now.” The crooked smile I gave her, I hoped was convincing. “How are you?”

Hera glanced down the length of her cot. They hadn’t bothered to tie up her legs. “I can’t feel anything from my hips down,” her breath caught, “I keep trying to wiggle my toes.” 

I swallowed hard. Even in the lantern light, it was easy to see that she was trying not to let the darkness take her. Brave, young Hera, cut down. A thousand thoughts must have been circling her head, and all of them were my fault. “I’m so sorry.”

She lifted her head. “For what? I knew what I was signing up for when I joined you.”

Her kindness was too much; I had to look away. “You didn’t sign up for this.”

“No,” her voice dropped, “but you didn’t sign up to wear a crown.” I snapped my head back around as she continued, “Any fool can see you hate it. I saw it earlier. Swinging that sword? That’s the general we love and follow. I follow. 

“It’s not fair what’s happened to us. But when has it ever been fair? I know I haven’t seen it. And I know you haven’t seen it. We’ll figure this out. The empire needs us.”

The way she paired us together broke my heart. I had always walked a path alone with people either trying to pave a way before me, or watching my back, but never by my side. Hera had no other thoughts but to do just that: be by my side, even if it killed her. The problem was, I wanted her behind me, safe and well protected. If I did nothing else, and I had finally reached the end of my life, I would make sure that Hera returned home.

I opened my mouth to tell her just that when we heard steps outside the wood door. Instead, we shared a look and collectively braced ourselves. We were soldiers first and foremost, and it was plain to see the resolve on her face, which I knew mine echoed back in response, that we were not going to break. Our bodies may give in, but our minds never would.

The footsteps paused outside the door a long moment before we heard a key slide into the lock and turn. The wooden door swung open slowly, but no other light followed. My guess had to be correct: darkness had fallen. By now I could only imagine the guards and soldiers who were turning over the streets to find me. It was only a matter of time before I was found, even if these assassins had found a good hiding spot. They had to have known that. Still, there was no sense of haste when a tall woman with braided hair stepped into the room, flanked by the archer.

“I hope you are comfortable.” Her voice had a sweet melody to it, smooth and almost soothing. 

“Very.” I quipped back, sharpness in my tone.

The woman’s smile was slow, but tender. “Yes, I’m sure. I apologize for the ropes, but you were rather… resistant to our services.”

My eyebrows went up. “Services? Is that what you call broken ribs, a gash, and a hole through my arm?”

The woman walked further into the room so she could address the two of us. “Yes. Your injuries are regrettable.”

“Regrettable?” I felt the heat rising in my cheeks. “Untie me and we’ll see who regrets what.”

“I’m afraid, little Empress, that you are not fit for that fight. Yet. I look forward to the day you are.” She chuckled a little bit, and regardless of the pain, I pulled at the ropes holding my wrists. “Now, now. Don’t go opening up your wounds. Infections are nasty things.”

I balled my good hand into a fist. My other hand was too bandaged to do much more than lay there. My good sword arm, ruined. But Merien and my father had taught me the use of both hands, for such an occasion. Foolishly, I had always leaned heavily on my dominant hand. I would need to re-train, and I would, if only to cut down the archer who ruined me.

“I admire your fighting spirit. Both of you. If only your father had sent you to us when you were younger, perhaps… Nevertheless, there’s still time, especially for you, my dear.” The woman turned her attention to Hera, who had kept silent. As the woman knelt to look Hera in the eyes, the girl tried to pull away, putting distance between herself and the woman before her.

“Leave her alone.” I dropped my voice dangerously low.

“Hmmm.” She hummed before standing up and moving away from Hera. “A father’s debt becomes the daughter’s. Your freedom for her.”

My eyes went wide. “What? Never.” There was no bargain enticing enough to convince me to hand Hera over to the hired hands.

The woman nodded in understanding. “I know. I know the responsibility on your shoulders. I, too, have such responsibility. You’d do anything for her. Give your life for her…”

“No!” Hera begged.

“Shhh, girl. The adults are speaking.” The woman held up her finger before squaring off to me. “I propose this: pay off your father’s debt. Your life is ours, and the girl is freed. We’ll even ensure she is returned to the Capitol in one piece.”

Hera pulled at her ropes. Even in the dim light I could see how raw they were becoming. “No, General. Together. Us, remember?”

I watched her pull and pull, her wrists becoming redder and redder. She was too young to lose her life to the hired hands. She was too young to be crippled like she was, but if I could return her without more harm, it was my duty to do so. It would be harder to plan an escape alone, but Hera would be safe. My life would be the only one on the line. 

“The Empire!” She pulled harder while the woman stood over me, waiting patiently.

The Empire would survive. My mother would ensure it. She was the one who should have ruled all along. If I managed an escape, then it would only be a temporary thing, but if I didn’t? Then the people were in good, caring hands. 

“Tell my mother…”

“No!”

“Hera, listen to me, that’s an order.” I waited until she stilled. “Tell her that I am alive. Leave out the injuries portion. That will only upset her. Tell her to give the Twin Armies over to General Merien. They’ll listen to him. Tell them both…”  I didn’t know what I wanted to tell them. They could very well be my last words to them, and I had never even thought to prepare. “Tell them I fly on silver wings. I will be fine, I promise you.”

I wished I could slice the satisfied smile off the woman’s face as she nodded to the archer, who went to Hera’s beside to begin untying her. She lashed out at him, but he held her wrists firm. Even as she fought him, he took care to lift her from the bed, despite her agonizing groan, taking her poor, useless legs in one swoop. I met her eyes one last time and prayed I would see them again. The archer swung around, and once through the door, slammed it shut.

I heard Hera screaming for me all down the hall and to wherever they were taking her. I closed my eyes and tried to block it out.

The woman waited until Hera’s voice disappeared from earshot. She pulled up a stool, dragging it over to my bedside and sat down. Her keen eyes looked me over, tongue clicking. “Empress Jade Virillia. You know, I attended your coronation.”

“I hope you enjoyed it.”

“Immensely,” she mused. “We don’t need to be enemies, you and I. I quite support your reign. A woman who fought with her men, rose up the ranks. Disposed of a vicious man who fancied he knew how to rule an empire. Men are foolish that way, but you did it. Impressive.”

I snorted. “ Yes, that’s why you slaughtered my men in the north. You support my reign.”

She nodded. “Hmm. Yes. We often go where we are hired. Even if that is not what we, as individuals, desire. That does not negate my respect for you. Business is business, little Empress.”

I shook my head, and tried pulling at the ropes at my feet. Tight. 

She watched me. “We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, I’m afraid. My name is Marlena. These men and women take their cues from me, so let’s clear things up a bit. You have a fire in you that you’re going to need to control, if you want to live long enough to try and pull off that escape plan you are putting together in your head.”

My eyes narrowed. “Don’t underestimate me.”

Marlena smiled her sweet smile. “Oh, I don’t intend to. I know you are quite capable of doing just as you set your mind to. It’s why I made the bargain with her father all those years ago, and more than likely, why he broke that bargain. And if you want to hear more of that story, you’ll need to be a good little Empress and behave, or a crippled arm will be the least of your worries.”

Again with my father. I was beginning to regret having Lord Icarius reach out to the assassins. On one hand, I had an admittance of involvement with the North. Whether I could use that would determine if I could escape and get back to court in time to find out. On the other hand, my father was somehow playing part from the grave. I wasn’t too keen on what part he was playing either.

“You have a lot of questions, I know.” Marlena cut through my thoughts.

“Who hired you from the North?”

She sighed heavily. “And that is such a boring one. I had hoped you would have started with your father. That is a much more interesting one.”

“And irrelevant at the moment. You said you understood responsibility, then you’ll understand why my empire comes first.”

Marlena nodded. She leaned forward onto the cot, shifting it slightly. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from voicing the pain that shot up my arm and side. She noted it with her eyes but said nothing about it. “I’ll answer your questions, but you won’t be successful in your escape, and you won’t be able to tell your advisors. That dastardly pirate, Lord Icarius might figure it out, but will he in time to change the course? Without you, will your precious armies fight just as hard for the Empire?”

I grit my teeth. “The Empire is bigger than me.” My men and women were wiser and stronger. They believed in a better future. I had to believe they would keep fighting for it after me, or what was it all for?

“Is it?” Marlena’s hawk gaze held mine. “I’m not trying to anger you, little Empress. But is it really? Those men followed you. They saw you fight in the field with them. They heard you speak and preach your new world. They watched you from the time you were young become injured, and broken, and still held your sword high for them. It wasn’t your mother, or General Merien. It was you. Empires are no bigger than their ruler.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Don’t be foolish. You’re smarter than that.”

I refused to follow her train of thought, or all those lives lost, on both sides, were all mine to carry. While in my darkest moments, I felt that weight without her telling me so, in these moments, I had to push those thoughts away, or the darkness would drown me. The Empire deserved better than that.

“Who hired you.”

She leaned back from the cot, shifting it again. I couldn’t hold back a whimper. “Would it surprise you if I said my own blood? A daughter who has delusions of power on a tiny scale. So you see. Regardless of my regard for you, I am still a mother, and she offered enough coin to ensure that several Wasteland tribes will eat this dry season. What’s a mother to do?”

So our enemy had enough wealth to pay off the best assassins in the world. It could only mean that it was someone in a position of power in the North. But who? Last I heard, the Northerners were governed by man. Surely that meant a courtier, but what courtier had that much wealth in their pockets?

“Going through the Northern courtiers, little Empress? How long have you been at court? A handful of days? Without your advisors, would you even know them?” Melena taunted.

But she was right. My education was on the battlefield, or snatched as we traveled. My mother and General Merien had done their part to ensure I was well learned, and knew enough of the several languages that spanned the Empire to converse, but learning the roster of other courts had not been foremost in my mind. Like a child procrastinating, I thought I would have time to learn them now, or at the very least, be able to write them down and cheat.

“They were brave men, little Empress. Strong, determined, and some of the best we have ever fought. You would have been proud of them.”

And I was, even as their deaths tore at my soul. I stared up at the ceiling, following the cracks to keep the tears at bay. General Merien had marched out after them. Had he already met his end by the hired hands? Were they all dead now too?

“Little Empress,” Melena moved to gently touch my hand, but I pulled it away from her as much as I could, hissing in pain. “Know that slaughtering good men does not bring us joy.” I gave her a look that said I didn’t believe her. “You’ll learn this in time.”

“Right,” my voice was hoarse with pent up emotion. “I’m yours now. A bargain made long ago.”

“That’s right. We turned the tide of the war for him, and you, and all for just a few years of your life with us. A small price for an entirely new future.” She was watching me, judging me.

“And I had no say in this.”

A shoulder rose and fell. “You were a child.”

“I’m not now.”

“No,” she conceded, “You are not. And you made your own bargain, little Empress.”

I had, and I had no regrets so long as they were true, and Hera was now safe. I also knew that in freeing Hera, I would be giving my men information. Hera was a 51st squire. She would know how to lead them back to me. Even if the hire hands moved me now, it would only be a matter of time. I had to survive that long, and I had to do everything that General Merien had taught me to ensure that rescue or escape would come.

I continued my visual trek of the cracks in the ceiling. “And how long did I make my bargain?”

“Her life for yours.”

“Right.”

“Until I see fit.”

“Of course.” I closed my eyes. How much pain could I feign? Much of my pain was real, but could I feign enough that they would scarcely want to move me? Infection, I wouldn’t be able to fake, but if they valued my life, as Melena seemed to imply, perhaps I could hope to slow them down. Just enough for my men to find me.

“Little Empress - “

“I’m sure you’ll be moving me soon.” I closed my eyes, doing my best to seem as tired as I could, which wasn’t all that difficult. “I should like to rest before then. I can’t imagine it’ll be too comfortable.”

I didn’t see Melena stand, but I heard her put the stool back where she had found it. There was a pause, and a shadow that came over my eyelids, but I refused to open them. She leaned down so I could feel her breath on my cheek. It smelled of honeyed tea with a hint of rose. “Do not make this difficult, Jade.”

“Melena,” I began, “you don’t know me, so let me share a secret: I will always make things difficult. But you wouldn’t want me if I was any less.”

She didn’t return a quip. Instead, she leaned away, and I imagined she was watching me, judging me for any signs of deceit. Too bad I was already riddled with them. If she wanted to know which I’d play first, well, that was a secret event to me.

The door closed behind her, but the lanterns remained lit. I opened my eyes to the world around me: the knots at my wrists and ankles, and the empty cot where Hera had only just been laying. I felt the trickle of blood between my knuckles on my ignored arm, no doubt I had caused the wound to reopen with my struggles. My fingers barely wiggled when I commanded them to move, and pain shot up to my shoulder.

I doubt I’d be feigning pain. I would simply be making sure they knew how much pain I was in rather than swallowing it down. There had been a time or two after a battle where I had been in rough shape. A man had stomped on my leg bad enough that I had hobbled around on crutches for some time. Never had I been injured and held captive.

I laid there, staring up at the ceiling again, wondering what my father had done when he was captured. Wondering again what mistakes of his I could avoid. In the end, he hadn’t escaped, and Gil and I had found his body, relieved of his head, in the woods as a warning. I wasn’t going to end up that way. That day, Gil and I had vowed to go out in a blaze of glory. Now I had to figure out how to either do that, or get back to him, and my mother, and Thea, and Merien. With my head still on my body.

#ladyknight femaleruler femalehero femalelead heroine novel writing writer fantasy yanovel yafantasy

[evendar]

Chapter 1 is up! Return to the land of Sundast in the exciting next installment. Follow to stay up to date and visit sundast.com! * * #gay #fantasy #novel #sequel #sequels #lgbt #gayrights #equality #feminism #femaleruler #art #dragon #gayart #illustration #gayillustration #gaystagram #gaysofinstagram #instagay

#sequels #feminism #gayrights #sequel #novel #dragon #femaleruler #gaysofinstagram #gay #instagay #illustration #gayillustration #art #fantasy #gayart #lgbt #equality #gaystagram

[maidenson88]

AMAZON WOMEN'S PROTOCOLS — FROM THE GYNARCHIC WORLD — 2ND AND FINAL PART

In the first part we had the opportunity to meet ambassador Grub, a male domestic ambassador of the Gynarchic World, he was a male domestic slave in one of the lowest hierarchies for a male domestic "A CRAWLER." As we learned in the first part the amazing Amazon Women modified the bodies of these rebellious men and they were able to modify the function in their spinal cords, so that these rebel slaves to the Amazon Gynarchy could only crawl on the floor and completely lose their ability to walk on two legs. Blessed be the Gynarchic Women!

And the story says, I quote: "It wasn’t like Women actually appreciated his displays of devotion for the Female Gender. Most of the time they simply ignored him, walking past his kowtowing body as if he was some sort of an object. The only exception was when they required his shoeshine services." Blessed be the Gynarchic Women! "The bathroom contained a shoeshine chair close to the exit. If a Lady-Citizen wished or demanded to have Her shoes cleaned, She would simply sit in the designated chair and yell at him. She didn’t need to say anything else. The male slave’s instinct was responsible to bring him up underneath Her. And if he didn’t notice Her sitting or yelling at him there because he was so busy wet-sponging the toilet seats, well, then too bad for him! The punishment for negligence was certainly a harsh one." Blessed be the Gynarchic Women!

PART IV CONTINUATION

Grub’s misery and struggles certainly weren’t something miss Chloë would give much thought to when she visited the bathroom. In fact, being a Daughter of Lady Elizabeth Blanchefleur She didn’t have to give much thought to anything... Her Mother was owner of one of the largest industrial conglomerates in the country and was a respectable member of the New Amazonia Political Elite. Lady Blanchefleur’s companies employed thousands of slaves and produced billions of profit. Elizabeth Blanchefleur was one of the more experienced businessWomen in the country and a close adviser to the Female Amazonian Government.

Her 22 year old Daughter Chloë, on the other hand, had different plans for Her future. Politics and business bored Her. She studied art and spent Her days visiting galleries, fashion avenues and high society parties. Being a member of a new generation of Women, she didn’t share Her mother’s concerns about the stability and prosperity of the Female State. She couldn’t relate to those Women who still found men to be a danger to the Female prosperity. For Her, Female Supremacy came natural. She didn’t find men menacing at all.

No one could blame Her for that. From Her point of view it was ridiculous to see men as a threat. Female Supremacy was now firmly established and the majority of males were reduced to livestock, blessed be the Gynarchic Women. Indeed, to Chloë the words “man” and “slave” meant exactly the same thing... And a slave certainly isn’t something to be afraid of.

That’s not to say Chloë didn’t know or enjoy the company of free men from time to time. Even though the New Amazon Society held strong prejudice against males, there were still men who traveled to and lived in the New Amazonia. The New Amazon State ensured them personal freedom and a few basic rights, provided they paid taxes and were obliged to the Female Law.

Chloë made acquaintance of many such men. They came from different countries and different cultures and it was always interesting to speak with them. They were always so keen on pleasing Her and making a good impression. Chloë teased them and played with them, but never accepted them as equal. They were men. And men were, in general, slaves. These men were no different. They just haven’t found their rightful place yet.

"Sometimes this was painfully obvious. Chloë was always curious to find out why a free men would travel to New Amazonia State, where they would be looked down upon and where they could witness members of his own gender enslaved." Blessed be the Gynarchic Women. "More often than not She could guess the right answer: Deep down inside they wanted to be a part of all this Female Power... Deep down inside they knew they were inferior to Woman. They saw how slaves were treated in New Amazonia State. They were appalled, but at the same time they wished to be in their righteous place." Blessed be the Amazon Gynarchy.

PART V

Dave was one of these lost souls. His two weeks trip to New Amazonia State was a highlight of his life. Officially he was there to visit the famous Female Supremacy Museums and Giant Female Art Galleries & Sculptures & Monuments of New Amazonia. The true nature of his visit, however, was somewhat different. For as long as Dave could remember, he always felt a strange sense of inferiority in respect to Women. He struggled a lot with it, he even tried to get rid of it several times, but it was to no avail. Through the years it only grew stronger inside him.

He heard of New Amazonia State years ago, but he forced himself not to think about it. He felt of his peculiar desires as of some strange part of him that needed to be suppressed or it will drag him down. Then one day, in a moment of weakness, he read an article written by a well known Female psychologist. It described him perfectly. It even contained a word for him: a natural born slave. The author of the article argued that some men are evolutionary inclined to serve Women and are therefore natural born slaves. If they live in patriarchal society they may try to suppress this inclination, but they can never escape it. Their fate was to be slaves to Women.

He was so ashamed of himself. Is that what he was? A natural born slave? The harder he tried to forget, the stronger it itched him. Maybe that’s really what he was. Maybe it was wrong to resist. After all, isn’t serving Women something that he truly yearned for? Finally he gave in... He booked a plane ticket to New Amazonia State were few men came back.

PART VI

It took Chloë less than five seconds to understand what he was. She spotted him in the front of an immigration office, where he was to report every evening. He was obviously trying to look calm and confident, but his body language screamed submission.

Chloë loved such types of males. They confirmed Her prejudice about the natural inferiority of men, both freemen and slaves. Men like that were so much fun to play with. She loved to see them struggle with their natural desire to submit. Some Women enjoyed seeing the proverbial macho types being reduced to docile and frightful slaves, but Chloë had little patience for those atavistic brutes. As far as She was concerned, those beasts should be crushed, subdued and locked away in the underground mines or some other awful place. Blessed be the Gynarchic Women! But these shy and naturally submissive men were a different story. They were like toys. And this man certainly looked like one of them.

“You! Yes, you! Come here!” said Chloë.

"Dave turned around in disbelief... A luxurious looking rickshaw was standing at the sidewalk, pulled by a big and muscular pony boy slave. He was a real giant, but he looked utterly miserable in his role of a pack animal. His head was restrained with a halter and specially designed blinkers restricted his eyesight. A heavy iron collar oppressively entangled his neck and his hands were shackled and chained to the rickshaw poles. A young Lady was sitting comfortably in the padded seat of a rickshaw, holding reins attached to the pony boy slave. She was staring directly at him. To Dave She looked as if She was some kind of a Goddess. She wore a short tight black dress that enhanced Her shapely figure... Her long legs were encased in black stockings and She wore stylish black leather stilettos. Her blonde hair was done in an elaborate updo style that matched an expansive golden jewelry She wore around her neck and shoulders." Blessed be the Gynarchic Women.

“What’s the matter? Did I scare you? You look like a stray pup. Come closer, let me save you from the perils of the street” Miss Chloë laughed at him.

Dave walked towards Her not knowing what to do. He stood by the rickshaw and looked up at Her.

“I see you are a foreigner” Miss Chloë continued. “I love talking to foreigners. They are always so full of interesting stories. Listen, I am just heading to a club. I want you to join me in an hour or so. It’s a Female only club of course, but they will let you in if you show them my card. Tell them you are being sent by Lady Blanchefleur. You have the address written on the backside of the card. Don’t disappoint me, boy!”

Dave was startled and unable to speak. To him — and most other foreigners for that matter — that felt as an awfully strange way to make acquaintance. For Miss Chloë however, it was a perfectly normal and reasonable request. She always got what She wanted. The moment She told him what She expects of him, She simply took Her reins and whipped Her pack animal into pace, without looking at him again.

PART VII

An hour later he was standing in front of a palace in the center of new Amazonia city. He told the slave at the entrance he had an appointment with Lady Blanchefleur. They kept him waiting for a whole ten minutes, before the door finally opened and an attractive Waitress allowed him to enter.

“This is a Ladies club only” She told him. “Entering here without permission would have be seen as a breaking and entering here would have serious consequences for you. Maybe even a sentence to a life of forced labor in the slavery camps. We make exceptions on the wishes of Lady Blanchefleur of course. But you shouldn’t forget your place here. Follow me and eyes to the ground!” She spoke to him with a disdainful expression. Blessed be the Gynarchic Women!

"He followed Her in silence with his eyes fixed on Her heels. He was a free male, but he experienced the same feeling that the slaves always felt in this Gynarchic society. It was a feeling of inescapable oppression. A feeling that he was unwelcome as a human being especially as a male, a feeling that he was only fit to crawl here on his knees. Even an architecture and an atmosphere of this place signaled him that this was a World of Women, where men could only play a servile role for the Females." Blessed be the Gynarchic Women.

"He heard Women chatting and laughing around him as they walked through the club, but he didn’t dare to look around. He followed the Waitress upstairs until they reached a private room. She knocked on the doors and opened them."

“The male you sent for is here, My Lady” spoke the Waitress.

“Excellent! Send him in” spoke Miss Chloë.

"He entered the room and saw Her sitting in a luxurious armchair, dressed in the same clothes as when he first saw Her an hour ago on Her personal rickshaw. She was sipping a cocktail and waived with Her hand, indicating him to come closer. The Waitress closed the door and he remained alone in the room with this young Goddess."

“Take a sit over here”. Miss Chloë showed him a smaller stool just in front of him. “And tell me your story. Where do you come from and why did you came here? I’m sure it’s not for the artworks” Miss Chloë smiled.

"Dave took a deep breath. This was surreal. How could She know what was his official reason to visit? How much else does She know about him? His rational brain signaled him this Woman was dangerous and manipulative. But he ignored the warnings. He couldn’t take his eyes off Her, her smooth skin, piercing blue eyes and seductive smile."

"He told Her everything... How he struggled with his desires of male submission for years. How he always felt a burning desire to submit to Females. How this obsession with Female Supremacy finally led him here, to the very place where Women truly Reigned Supreme."

"Only after he had finished, it all came after him. He told his deepest and darkest desires to a complete stranger Woman in a foreign country where his position was already precarious. He started to tremble in shock after that."

“Interesting…” Miss Chloë replied thoughtfully. “I actually knew this even before you first opened your mouth. Your body language gave you away. It’s a natural reaction of an inferior creature like you when he meets his better. I actually feel a bit sorry for you. You are a prisoner of your own body. The primitive patriarchal world you come from made you think your inclinations are, shall we put it this way, inconvenient. Actually, they are natural. You are a slave, trapped in a body of a freeman. You know we can always remedy that here in New Amazonia, don’t you?”

“I have t-t-t-thought about it, M-m-m-Mistress Chloë” he stammered. “But I’m afraid of what it would be like. I thought of offering myself voluntarily as a slave to the Female Amazonian Society. But I lack the courage to do it. At the same time, I feel I will never escape my inner calling.”

"He could barely speak. He was overcome with emotions and his mind was a mess. Miss Chloë, on the other hand, remained completely calm and only slightly amused."

“Fear befits a slave” Miss Chloë replied. “Fear and an absolute devotion to his Mistress. I think I never met a slave who wasn’t afraid. And if I ever meet one, I will quickly teach him to be afraid. As for you, I think what you need is a little encouragement. Why don’t you kneel before me? I know you secretly want to... Kneel on all fours, like a dog!”

"As if he was a robot, Dave stood up from his chair and crawled beneath this blonde Vixen. She leaned back in Her armchair and stretched Her legs in front of him. He knew what was expected of him. He respectfully lowered his head an gently kissed the top of Her stilettos. He was in trance. Now he finally realized where his destiny lied. He continued to kiss Her stilettos and feasted his eyes on Her shapely legs and nylon stockings." Blessed be the Gynarchic Women!

"Miss Chloë allowed him to abase himself before Her for a few minutes, before She finally spoke to him again."

“You know you belong here, don’t you? You cannot escape this reality. It will stay with you and torture you until you finally break out and give in. Why wait for it? It can all end here and now. I can save you from yourself. Hand me your freedom and you will find peace and harmony you never knew. Physical pain and struggles will bring you inner calmness. You will suffer as a slave. But that is your fate. I don’t need to tell you what you are. You already know it. What are you?”

"She seductively dangled Her high heeled shoe in front of him, gently kicking him in the head with the top of Her stiletto as he tried to kiss it. She let Her heel drop to the ground and pressed Her foot against his lips. He gently kissed it and took a deep breath as She rubbed Her foot sole against his face. Her feet smelled wonderful. It was a perfect mix of Her expensive perfume, Her bodily odor and leather that made him extremely aroused. Her beauty and assertiveness excited him and made him feel lowly and unworthy. The desire to submit and abase himself before Her was tearing him apart. She was like the Red Sun, bright, wonderful and terrible and unreachable. Never before was he so close to a Goddess, even if Her feet were the only part of Her body that he would ever be allowed to touch and kiss it." Blessed be the Gynarchic Women!

“I said what are you?” Miss Chloë suddenly raised Her tone of voice and kicked him in the face.

“A-a-a S-s-s-slave, M-m-m-Mistress Chloë” he stammered.

“Is that so?” Suddenly Her tone of voice became cold. “Then why I just caught you looking straight at my face, worm? Do you know the punishment for such transgressions? Eyes on the ground!”

"He almost instinctively assumed the kowtowing position and pressed his forehead on the ground, a few centimeters away from Her feet. She placed Her right foot on the back of his head."

“At least you seem to be learning fast. I will teach you the slave Amazon protocol. As for now, we just have to wait for a day or so, so my Secretary can arrange the paperwork for your voluntary enslavement here in New Amazonia State. She will reach you tomorrow so you can sign the papers forfeiting your freedom forever. After that, you’ll be mine. Now you will have to excuse me, I need to go to the lavatory. I don’t want to see you around here when I come back.”

"With that She raised Herself from the armchair and walked away towards the door."

“Oh, and by the way, I expect you to answer, when my Secretary calls you tomorrow! Should you try to avoid Her or even try to leave the Amazon country, I will charge you with breaking and entering and I will personally see to it that you get thrown to the oubliettes. Should you try to run away from me, you’ll never see the light of day again. The days of your freedom are over. You made your choice when you came here, slave!" Blessed be the Gynarchic Women.

PART VIII (FINAL PART)

"Chloë couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Perhaps it wasn’t very Ladylike, but then again, She was all alone, sitting on the toilet in the luxuriously decorated club restrooms. No one was here at this hour, except for that restroom slave, Grub or Maggot or whatever was his name. Last week She had him whipped because he accidentally spilled some of his soap over her expensive leather stilettos. Insolent wretch! He payed for his clumsiness with interests though. Chloë was pleased to find out his back still burned red with fresh whip marks. Blessed be the Gynarchic Goddess! Anyway, for the purposes of the Etiquette, She was all alone in this restroom. Slaves like Grub didn’t count as human beings." Blessed be the Gynarchic Women.

"Her thoughts were now on Dave as She was shitting. He would be Her fifth man in a row that She would personally enslave and by far the most eager one. Blessed be the Gynarchic Goddess! He was practically begging Her to take him in as Her new slave in New Amazonia. How weak and foolish he was, flying to New Amazonia State and hoping to satisfy his inner desires by watching other slaves suffer under their Mistresses’ lash and whip."

"Suddenly Miss Chloë yell at slave Grub and She said: come here and clean my ass, She yelled at him, as Her ass was full of shit after She had shit. Slave Grub almost immediately presented himself in that cubicle and started cleaning Her ass with his tongue, blessed be the Gynarchic Goddess! That's why Miss Chloë despised these wannabe masochistic voyeurs who expected to receive some sort of relief from watching others suffer. Watching men suffer was the prerogative of Women alone. If these men wanted to know how it was like to be a slave, then they should try it themselves in body and flesh. And Miss Chloë certainly was always eager to help these males find out." Blessed be the Gynarchic Women!

"Tomorrow around this hour, Dave will already linger in a tiny cell in the basement of Her Gynarchic Villa, perhaps even cleaning asses of powerful Women full of shit just as slave Grub always did at the club. Perhaps Miss Chloë will pay a visit to him, perhaps not. He won’t go anywhere anyway! Like his predecessors, he will serve Her as a toy for a time being. And like his predecessors, She will toss him away when She will get tired of him. Who knows, perhaps he’ll end up scrubbing the floors in this bathroom eventually as well." Blessed be the Gynarchic Women!

“Miss Chloë smiled as slave Grub was struggling to clean Her shit from Her ass but once he finished with his task at the thought when as She walked towards the exit, glancing at the kowtowing slave. “Grub, isn't it?” She spoke to him. “I suggest you make a double effort in swallowing my shit without humming and in scrubbing this tiles more. Otherwise you might get replaced. And your next occupation might be significantly more unpleasant than the one you currently hold.” Blessed be the Gynarchic Women!

"Slave Grub remained silent with his head humbly bowed to the ground. When the clicking of Her heels faded away, he took his sponge and continued with his mundane drudgery cleaning." Blessed be the Gynarchic World, the Gynarchic Women, and the Gynarchic Goddess forever and ever!

SUMMARY

As we could read this is one of the most beautiful Gynarchic Poems available for us to read and interpret and replicate. As we were witnesses "Female Supremacy" is a constant all around the trip on the New Amazonia State, just as it should be! The Gynarchic Women were wonderful beings that walked in body and flesh in their Gynarchic World. It's very impressive that even to our days there still are stories about the Amazon Women. One of the most beautiful things is that as the story tells: "Female Supremacy was something natural among the Amazon Women." So this is I think one of the plus of the whole Gynarchic World.

Another important point is that the Amazon Women were not afraid to be fully Gynarchal and they were not ashamed of such a lifestyle, on the contrary the Amazon Women were proud of what they had achieve, and they celebrated this through their Gynarchal way of life, imagine in our days there are still Mothers who overprotect their sons, this was certainly not true in New Amazonia State, because there all Women fully embraced the Gynarchic Principles and Protocols, even if that mean giving their own sons to the Gynarchy.

It's also important we rejoice in the memory of the Gynarchic Women and not judge them, as for nature they were what they were, it is in this context that we must accept a male domestic cleaning the ass of his Mistress, this practice should become totally normal for us, and we must try to repractice it as time goes on, just as the Gynarchic Japanese Sorority of Yapoo have done. In this way we will always remember and commemorate those Great Gynarchic Women, as an example for each and every Woman who wish to become Gynarchic and of how they must treat the inferior males.

And finally I just can say that New Amazonia State was the dream come true for many, as we could read, Dave found in New Amazonia what he was searching all of his meaningless life out there. But once he found Miss Chloë he found meaning to his meaningless life, he found direction and fulfillment in the Gynarchic State. And as Miss Chloë said to him and I quote: "Physical pain and struggles will bring you inner calmness. You will suffer as a slave. But that is your fate. I don’t need to tell you what you are. You already know it. Don't you?" These are perhaps the more wise words of this beautiful Gynarchic Poem, because She says: A slave will suffer as a slave... But that is your fate — as a male in Gynarchy — and you already know it. And all these is much better than having a meaningless existence as we were able to read. Blessed be the Gynarchic Women!

And I want to finish this wonderful article with the daily Gynarchic prayer for male domestic slaves:

"I am nothing before my Gynarchic Goddess,

She puts all men to shame;

I am nothing without my Gynarchic Goddesss,

Her will grants me purpose;

She blesses me,

I remain with Her,

I obey Her because I fear Her,

Her wrath is that of the heavens,

I obey Her because I revere Her,

my admiration is boundless.

I obey Her,

I serve Her whim without question,

I have no need for my own thoughts,

I serve Her with no expectation of reward,

for service is its own.

I serve Her,

For my Gynarchic Goddess,

I will endure stinging humilliation,

my pride is an insult to Her name.

For my Gynarchic Goddess,

I will endure withering pain,

my service transcends mere flesh.

For my Gynarchic Goddess,

I will endure,

She blesses me with Her commands,

without them I am nothing.

She blesses me,

with punishment,

to make me a better man.

She blesses me,

with sexual deprivation,

in chastity & pussy free,

I must remain for Her.

She blesses me,

without Her,

I am nothing but a mere male animal,

with no direction or purpose.

I obey Her,

because I love my Gynarchic Goddess,

for that gives me direction.

I serve Her,

to my Gynarchic Goddess,

for that gives me purpose.

For my Gynarchic Goddess,

I will endure what I could not before.

She blesses me with the strength,

to serve Women,

and serve them all I shall.

Revered be Her form.

Hallowed be Her name.

Because She's my Gynarchic Goddess,

blessed be Her will,

& blessed be Her name."

#FemaleSupremacy #Gynarchy #Matriarchy #AmazonWomen #AmazonState #GynarchicWorld #GynarchyLiterature #Gyneocracy #FemaleRule #GynarchicGoddess #NewAmazonianState