Week 2: Thursday, 13th Dec 2029, Afternoon

We made a few more jokes, discussing what my stage name would be if I ever had a porn career.

"I think Slut Tamer is good," Jennifer suggested.

"Nah, that's more a name for my dick. Or my whip. What about you?" I turned to Seraphina. "You know Jen here used to be called the Ice Matron? Back then she was my mentor."

"Wow, really?" Seraphina said, wide-eyed. "No wonder you're so hot, you melted the Ice Matron into a wet slut! Haha!"

"Yeah yeah, laugh all you want. Takes one to know one, whore," Jennifer rolled her eyes. "What should we call you, cumdump? Since you're sooo good at sucking Master's cock?"

"Whoa whoa whoa. Don't say that about my favorite beverage. We're talking about Master's cum here, 'dump' is such a harsh word. I think I could adopt the name Spunk Chalice, haha."

"Sir, hope I'm not interrupting," Catherine arrived, her voice carrying that familiar vlogger confidence despite her naked state. "I'm here for my assignment."

Catherine stood with her characteristic poise, blue eyes sharp and calculating as she surveyed the room. Even without clothes, she carried herself like she was still the one with the camera, analyzing an exotic location rather than being the exotic property herself.

"All in good time, m'lady," I mocked. "This slut still thinks she can get out of this, haha."

"I apologize, Master," Catherine said, lowering her head in what appeared to be submission, but it'll would take much more than that to convince me.

"Don't apologize," I said. "Keep believing what you're believing. But as time goes on, the desperation you'll feel when help just doesn't come..." I made a chef's kiss gesture. "Mwah, perfection."

"You know the drill. Explain your brand."

"Before I start, Master," Catherine said, her voice taking on that practiced presenter tone, "I think my original brand can serve its purpose quite well, actually. I'm known for exploring exotic places, learning about cultures and people. I immerse myself completely, bringing authentic experiences to a broader audience, helping them gain recognition and appreciation."

Her eyes lit up with that familiar entrepreneurial gleam. "I'm sure this... unique way the new world operates will attract significant viewership. I could introduce your lifestyle to my audience properly. My family has connections that could facilitate transport for those wanting to experience this life themselves. I'm confident we could strike up a mutually beneficial partnership arrangement."

"Yeah yeah yeah," I said dismissively. "The experience angle works. We can entice some curious viewers."

"Precisely! Curiosity killed the cat, as they say," Catherine interjected with a knowing smile, clearly pleased that I was considering her "proposal."

"We can do the 'not all who wander are lost' approach," I said, turning to Jennifer and pointedly ignoring Catherine's expectant expression. "Put the slut in precarious situations. End some videos on cliffhangers, like getting lost in the middle of a brothel, mistaken for a whore, before the camera shakes and fades to black."

Catherine's smile faltered slightly, but she maintained her composure. This wasn't quite the collaborative documentary she'd envisioned.

"Yes! We can add some twisted elements," Seraphina's eyes lit up. "Then she gets pulled deeper in. All those travels, all those experiences, nothing compared to the life of a ****. The British entitled bitch has tried everything, always judging with that condescending undertone. But that one mistaken trip to our territory made her find what she'd been searching for, what she needed. Now she no longer wanders aimlessly, because right here she can experience every sort of fucked up scenario, things no old world country or new world faction could provide."

"Ahh, a happy ending," I laughed. "Do you like it?"

Catherine's confident facade cracked just slightly. "I... I still think a collaboration would better serve both our interests," she said, her voice maintaining that reasonable negotiator tone even as panic flickered in her eyes. "If you'd like, we can certainly film those scenarios too. I don't see them as mutually exclusive options. I can authentically share your lifestyle with my audience, even participate in certain activities, provided they don't require me to appear unclothed on camera."

Even now, even naked and collared, she was still trying to set terms and boundaries.

"Keep dreaming, slut. Live in your bubble," I said with cold amusement. "You're going to wake up to a real nightmare soon enough. Fuck off and fetch the last slut."

"Of course, Master. I'll... handle that immediately," she said, her voice carrying just the slightest edge of sarcasm masked as compliance. As she walked away, her posture remained defiant despite her nudity, still the confident explorer who'd eventually find her way home.

"What's wrong with her?" Seraphina commented as Catherine left the room. "Does she have a screw loose? What the fuck does she think this is? A 3-day, 2-night experience as a fuck toy? Come get your holes filled in this unforgettable getaway? Fucking dumb bitch."

"I don't see an issue," Jennifer replied, quite amused. "Hope is a beautiful thing. It'll convince her to do anything for that freedom. And you know we can crush it anytime we want."

"You know," I turned to Jennifer, "weren't you like that once? Grasping at straws as I wrapped my hands around your throat?"

"Wow, what's with you today, Master? Is it Nostalgic Thursday?" Jennifer replied. "I was your mentor. I had a hard time adjusting, that's all."

"Yeah, you know Sera, my whole office was in shock when I came to work with Jennifer on a leash behind me. She might look unfazed now, but that day her whole body was trembling when she crawled behind me. Sometimes I miss the old Jen."

"Come the fuck in, you dumb bitch! What are you doing standing there? Waiting for someone to ask how much?" Jennifer redirected her humiliation toward Karen, who was waiting at the door.

Karen's jaw clenched as she stood in the doorway, her green eyes flashing with barely contained fury. The intellectual part of her mind was cataloguing every degrading detail, how women were being used to humiliate other women, how the patriarchal power structure was turning females against each other. But she **** herself to step forward, knowing resistance would only bring worse consequences.

"Ah, that's the Jen I missed. Still a little shy, hah," I said as I slid my hand down Jennifer's shirt. "What the fuck are you looking at, slut? You know what to do," I barked at Karen while I fondled Jennifer's tits.

Karen's face went pale as she witnessed the casual groping, every fiber of her feminist identity screaming in protest. Her hands trembled slightly as she fought the urge to speak out, to defend her sister against this masculine aggression.

"Yes... Master." The word felt like poison on her tongue. "I was an advocate for gender equality and vegan diet. My viewers are generally girls who subscribe to my ideologies, who look for guidance on handling unjust situations in their lives and learn about proper nutrition."

"Most useless of the bunch," Seraphina commented with obvious disdain. "What do you feel now, you stupid cunt? The only equality you get here is the time Master fucks your cunt and ass equally."

Karen's nostrils flared at the crude language, her entire body going rigid. The woman who'd spent years writing academic papers on sexual objectification was being reduced to holes for male pleasure. She bit down hard on her lower lip, drawing blood, to prevent herself from screaming.

"Looks like you're going to have a hard time here," I laughed. "Both of my head girls seem to hate you."

"Her content should just be her getting fucked and begging for cock. I don't see any other way to use this man-hating piece of shit," Jennifer added with venom.

"I don't think so," I said, pulling Jennifer's tits out of her shirt. "What am I holding?"

Karen's voice caught in her throat. Being **** to acknowledge and describe the sexual objectification happening before her eyes violated everything she believed in. "You are... holding Miss Jennifer's breasts," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What is this?" I pulled Seraphina's legs onto the table, gave a little slap on her inner thighs, and Seraphina spread her legs.

Karen's face burned with shame and rage. "It's Miss Seraphina's... vagina," she **** out, hating herself for using the clinical term that somehow felt more degrading in this context than crude slang would have.

"Very observant. And they are perhaps the proof of female empowerment. You see Mikhail down in the dungeon, little sissy in training. You know the work Jennifer has to do just to match you? The money we have to spend on ass and tit injections? Hormone treatments? And he still has one less hole than you to play with."

"Don't you get it? Female is the superior gender, but as slaves!" I declared.

"Ah, I see where this is going," Jennifer said with growing excitement.

"Empower them to submit, so to speak," Seraphina added.

"Exactly. I'm sure she has a lot of haters. Pick some of the comments, fake them if we need to. The ones that address how she's just pretending to be a man, that what she does is just another form of toxic masculinity. I'm sure this condescending piece of shit has judged other girls who want to be stay-at-home moms or marry rich men. Have her respond to them by taking up the challenge, show them true female empowerment by dressing like a slut, exploring, let's call it, alternative situations where females come on top."

"Like being a ****," Jennifer cut in with obvious relish.

"Yep, like being a ****. Tune her rhetoric. Females' superior nurturing nature, submissive tendencies make good slaves. Empower them to take the final leap. Show those men the power tits and ass have."

"What do you think, slut?" I asked.

Karen's green eyes blazed with fury. She straightened her shoulders, clinging to what remained of her dignity. "Why should I say anything? I thought you said my opinions don't matter."

"They don't. I just want a laugh. And if you don't want a whipping, don't skip a fucking word."

Karen took a deep breath, her entire worldview crashing around her. But the core of her feminist identity, battered and beaten though it was, still burned within her. "I think you're full of shit. I'll never do it."

The words came out stronger than she'd intended and she knew there would be consequences.

"It's like the old you," I turned to Jennifer with obvious amusement. "So feisty. She's so cute when she's angry and powerless."

"Yeah yeah, it's like looking in a mirror," Jennifer rolled her eyes.

Karen's face burned with humiliation at being called 'cute' like some petulant child rather than a respected academic. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she fought every instinct to maintain her composure.

"Fuck off back to your cage. Tell your friends that because of you, all of them are getting punished tonight," I said, gesturing toward the door.

Karen's stomach dropped. The feminist who'd spent years advocating for sisterhood and female solidarity was now the cause of other women's suffering.

"Don't lose your way. If you try to run away... well, I hope you try. I'll enjoy seeing you lying on the ground, convulsing from the shock your collar gives you, in a pool of your own piss that I'll make you lick up every drop."

She turned toward the door with as much dignity as she could muster. I watched her retreating form with satisfaction, already imagining how she'd break the news to the others. Would she try to apologize? Explain her principles? Watch their faces fall as they realized they'd suffer for her defiance?

Tonight's the night, I thought with dark anticipation. Last night was just fun and games for the bodyguards, a little team building exercise with some sexual humiliation thrown in. But tonight? Tonight I need to establish the baseline. Even if Karen had swallowed her feminist pride and agreed to everything, they'd still get punished. Her having to take the blame and explain to the others was just delicious icing on the cake.

I need them to understand what true punishment feels like. The threat of the whip only works if its burn has been felt, if the memory of agony lives in their flesh and haunts their dreams. And tonight, they've got hellfire waiting for them.