The train to work.

Lila's heels echoed off the polished marble floors of her apartment building's lobby, a staccato rhythm that matched the anxious beating of her heart. The doorman, a hulking figure in a crisp uniform, inclined his head as she passed. His eyes lingered a moment too long on the sway of her hips, a reminder of her place in this new world order.

The streets outside were already bustling with activity, men in sharp suits striding purposefully towards their positions of power. Lila kept her gaze lowered, careful not to make eye contact with any of them. The few women she passed were easily identifiable by their identical, drab dresses - silent shadows scurrying to complete their assigned tasks before retreating to the relative safety of their homes.

Lila's path to the subway took her past manicured parks and gleaming storefronts, a picturesque facade that belied the rot beneath. The air was thick with the scent of fear and submission, masked by the cloying sweetness of carefully tended flower beds. Each step felt like a tightrope walk, her body taut with the effort of maintaining perfect posture and demure demeanor.

As she descended the steps to the subway station, the illusion of civility began to crack. Here, away from the watchful eyes of the street-level cameras, the true nature of the Patriarchy revealed itself. Crude graffiti adorned the walls, explicit threats and lewd drawings that made Lila's skin crawl. Yet, she couldn't deny the forbidden thrill that coursed through her veins at the sight of such raw, unfiltered masculinity.

The platform was crowded, a sea of dark suits punctuated by the occasional flash of a woman's pale skin. Lila felt exposed, ****, as if every pair of eyes was fixed upon her. She could almost feel their gazes like physical touches, caressing her curves, probing for weaknesses in her carefully constructed armor.

The train arrived with a rush of hot air that lifted Lila's skirt, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of thigh above her stocking tops. She smoothed the fabric down quickly, cheeks burning with shame and arousal. As the doors slid open, she was caught in the surge of bodies pushing forward.

Lila found herself pressed against the cold metal of the train's interior, surrounded by the heat and smell of male bodies. There were indeed few seats available, most occupied by men who sprawled across them with casual entitlement.

Lila's eyes darted frantically around the crowded train car, seeking any refuge from the press of bodies. At one end, she spotted an open seat next to a corpulent man whose massive form spilled over the edges of his chair. Sweat glistened on his ruddy face as he leered at her, patting the empty space beside him with a meaty hand. The thought of being wedged against his bulk made Lila's stomach churn.

Desperately, she looked to the opposite end of the car. There, another vacant seat beckoned. But directly in front of it, bent over the metal handrail, was a woman whose status was unmistakable. The crude brand seared into her exposed flesh marked her as one of the Fallen - those who had dared to vote in the fateful election, now reduced to mere fucktoys for the Patriarchy's pleasure. Her dress was hiked up around her waist, leaving her backside shamefully exposed.

A burly man in a pinstriped suit stood behind her, one hand gripping her hip while the other tangled in her hair. With each lurch of the train, he drove into her mercilessly. The woman's face was a mask of pain and humiliation, silent tears streaming down her cheeks as she endured her public violation.

Lila felt her breath catch in her throat, her body flushing with a confusing mix of revulsion and arousal. The brutality of the scene both horrified and fascinated her. A traitorous part of her mind wondered what it would feel like to be in that woman's place - stripped of all agency, reduced to a vessel for male pleasure.

As the train swayed, jostling Lila between the press of bodies, she realized she had to make a choice. Risk being pawed at by the corpulent man, or bear witness to the degradation of a fellow woman. Her legs trembled as she weighed her options, acutely aware of how tenuous her own position was in this cruel new world.