Arrival in Dominara

The private jet landed smoothly on a private airstrip outside the capital of Dominara. Warm, fragrant tropical air greeted you as the cabin door opened.

Dorothy stepped out first, looking elegant and powerful in a flowing white designer dress. She turned and tugged sharply on your leash.

“Come, Slutcunt.”

You crawled down the stairs on all fours. Your short pink sundress barely covered your ass, leaving your steel chastity cage, fresh brands, and piercings clearly visible. Two official futanari in crisp uniforms waited at the bottom.

They bowed respectfully to Dorothy.

“Welcome home, Lady Voss,” one said. Then their eyes moved to you — naked except for the tiny dress, collared, leashed, and marked like an animal. One of them raised an eyebrow.

“Quite the contrast,” she murmured.

Dorothy smiled. “She’s a special case.”

During the drive into the city, you noticed how different Dominara truly was.

Most males walked beside their futa wives dressed in formal, elegant clothing — tailored suits, silk shirts, designer collars that looked more like expensive jewelry than restraints. Many wore subtle makeup and had perfect hair. They were treated with visible affection — held by the hand, kissed on the cheek, spoken to gently. Some even walked with pride, clearly cherished and respected as treasured husbands.

You, on the other hand, crawled on the floor of the car with Dorothy’s cock down your throat the entire ride.

The contrast was humiliating.

The car stopped at the grand Dominaran Bureau of Male Registration.

Inside, the halls were lined with portraits of elegant futanari and their well-dressed male spouses. Other couples waited — most males in formal attire, kneeling politely beside their wives or sitting calmly in chairs.

You were the only one crawling on all fours in a slutty dress, covered in brands and piercings, leaking from your cage.

In the registration room, a dignified futa official reviewed your documents.

“Dorothy Voss,” she said, “you wish to register this male as your legal spouse for inheritance purposes?”

“Yes,” Dorothy replied calmly. “She will be my wife on paper… and my personal breeding bitch in private.”

The official glanced at your degraded state with mild disapproval, then at Dorothy’s elegant appearance.

“Unconventional… but legal. Sign here.”

You were **** to sign the documents while on your knees. Your old name was erased. You were now officially:

Slutcunt Voss

Legal Status: Owned Spouse & Breeding Property

The official stamped the papers.

“Congratulations on your upcoming marriage, Lady Voss.”

As you left the building, Dorothy walked tall and proud while you crawled beside her on the busy sidewalk. Well-dressed males with elegant collars stared at you in shock and pity. Some even whispered to their futanari wives.

Dorothy noticed and smiled.

She stopped in the middle of the street, making you kneel beside her.

“Look around, Slutcunt,” she whispered. “See how cherished and respected those males are? They’re good, obedient husbands. Treasured companions.”

She tugged your leash, forcing you to look up at her.

“And then there’s you… my filthy, broken, public bitch. Crawling in a whore’s dress with ‘Dorothy’s Slutcunt’ branded above your useless caged clitty.”

She stroked your cheek almost lovingly.

“I could have made you one of them. But I didn’t want a cherished husband. I wanted a degraded, leaking, completely ruined wife that everyone knows exists only to serve my cock.”

She leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“Twelve days until the wedding, darling. Try to behave.”

She gave your leash a sharp tug and continued walking, forcing you to crawl behind her through the elegant streets of Dominara — a shameful contrast to every other male in sight.