Freewill Prequel/ch. 1(femdom) | Sex Stories APP

Summary: In 2012 freewill in America was obliterated. It happened with silence and acquiescence. Two years later Rebecca Robins (a former dorky high school student who is now a respected Mistress that uses domination, pain, and pleasure to further The Nations agenda) finds herself with the responsibility of training her former neighbor, David Jameson, for the breeding program. For the first time since the revolution she finds herself frustrated and conflicted, and is unable to understand why.

 warnings:femdom (female dominating male), sadism, masochism, manipulation, romance, angst, harems/sex with more than one person, possibly incest, possibly bisexuality, bestiality aspects (but likely no bestiality. You’ll see what I mean). Body modification, drugging, aphrodisiacs. Noncon/dubcon.   Whatever sick things my mind can come up with. Noncon/dubcon. One scene with a stereotpical ghetto black girl (I’m not racist, I swear!). Enjoy!


2 years ago


“Isn’t it weird?”


Anthony leaned forward in his seat, putting his hands at the very end of the desk so he was closer to her. This way, if the teacher looked over, he wouldn’t realize they were talking.

 “About the silence. I mean, even if we ignore the text from Jerry talking about soldiers and if we ignore that we still can’t get ahold of anyone else from most of Saint County, there’s still the thing with David”.

Rebecca pushed her glasses up her nose, and furtively looked towards the other end of the classroom where David, her neighbor, sat. She let her bangs- almost grown out now- fall in front of her eyes, as though the blonde strands would act as an invisibility cloak. It had always seemed to work before. David never noticed her when they were at school. As a child she used to watch him play and yearn to join him. A few times, he would even let her. That’s how she knew that he was different from the others.

He wasn’t an idiot, like most people in her class were. He was able to see life the way it really was, look at it objectively, and put himself in other people’s shoes.

That’s why his actions hurt so much. He’d be friendly, in an acquaintance kind of way, unless they were at school. Then he would never smile at her. At most he would frown. He never joined in with the other kids on teasing her, calling her Ratty Rebby- a reference to her hair that always looked like she just got out of bed, despite her not having a curl to her name and always saturating the slightly wavy strands in tangle-away sprays every morning. But he also made sure never to stand by her, never to be partnered with her, and acted like they hadn’t lived by each other all of their 18 years of life. After all, he was different. He was smart enough to realize that his popularity only came because he acted a certain way, and that being friends with the dorky skinny girl in the glasses was not part of that act.

“What thing about David? He doesn’t live in Saint County.” “Yeah but his brother’s girlfriend does. He was supposed to meet her at her house last night for a date. He never came back.  And now his phone isn’t working either. The Robins tried to file a missing person’s report, but the police aren’t acting on it. Jenny, whose dad is a police officer, said that he’s been acting really strange and quite lately.”

“What does Jerry say? Has he texted back?” Rebecca’s eyes roved around the classroom. As exciting as this was compared to the usual monotony of History class, she was sure it was nothing. Nothing ever happened in their town. Nothing would ever happen. Interesting things happened to people on the news or in books. Not in Glennhaven.

“His phone is off now too. I think the only reason it was even working in the first place was because he was using a Cricket phone, and they don’t sell those in our state. I think the phone companies are being told to turn off services in Saint County.”

Her head whipped back around and she frowned, reaching up to nervously curl a few strands of hair. “Why would you think that?” her voice came out meek, and mentally she cringed at her tone. If only she could be confident and witty and say interesting one-liners, the way she always did in her mind, after the conversation was over. Maybe then David would pay attention to her.

“If it were just a power line then peoples’ cell phones would still work. The weather has been fine lately, so we know it’s not that. The different cell phone services have different satellites, so if one went off, the others would still put out a signal.”

Rebecca started to pay attention. “You know what I think it is,” he continued, “I think it’s zombies. Or some kind of deadly plague. I think everyone in Saint County is dead.”


“No really,” he said with a huge grin. “Think about it. This is just like that movie, ‘The Circumstances’. First it came for Saint County. Next it will come for us.”

“You know if everyone really is dead, you’re going to feel like a jerk.”

“Why would I feel like a jerk if I were right?” he joked.

The clang of the bell interrupted any reply she might have had.

“Remember class” the teacher called out, erasing the writing from the chalkboard, “pages 12, 13, and 22 are due monday! Red and blue questions only!”

Throwing her items in her bag Rebecca ran out of the classroom, leaving Anthony behind without so much as a goodbye. Something she would soon regret.

Once out of the school she scanned the parking lot for David’s face. He was at the side of the building with his usual group of friends, but his posture for once seemed jittery, rather than settling into a relaxed pose for a long chat. Rebecca stepped back into the shadows.

If she were willing to be honest with herself, she would ask why she was thinking about David so much more than usual now. Not that she hadn’t always noticed him. This year was the worst for her though. She knew that if she didn’t get the courage to say something soon that he would go away to college and forget her. A good college, too. He was a straight A student, whereas she was strictly an average student. She had no delusions that once he left he would think of her beyond the occasional passing thought, if that.

“Not that I care about what he thinks of me,” she whispered under her breath as she stepped out from the shadows and walked forward, mirroring David where he was leaving his friends. “I don’t care. Why should I care about a jerk who thinks more about appearance and popularity than he does about anything else? So what if he isn’t a sheep, if he can think for himself. I only care about that because I’m a teenager, according to my aunt. In the real world, it doesn’t matter if you are a sheep or not. Nothing happens in life, so it’s better to have a loving sheep than a sly fox.” Realizing that her words weren’t making much sense anymore, she quieted down.

“Hey Rebecca” David’s tired voice came from a few feet in front of her, and he slowed his stride so that she could catch up. He looked up at her, eyes tired, and she paused. Maybe he didn’t want her by him? When he had started to climb the high school social ladder, they had mutually tried to avoid walking by each other on the way home, till it became obvious that it was just too awkward and silly to do so. Maybe he felt different now.

[i]oh wait….[/i]

“Tony said that your brother’s missing,” her eyes screwed up and her cheeks heated after she asked. Where was her tact?

“Yeah. He went to visit Jan last night and never came home. Mom’s been frantic. We tried to go down to her house to see what’s up, but the whole area is blocked off, like, seven blocks before you even get to her house. There are even guards. They claim that there is some kind of chemical leak or something and that all the people from the area are in safe, ventilated places. We tried to get more information and say that we just wanted to talk to him, but they just kept repeating that he was safe and in an area we couldn’t get to. When dad tried to sneak in, they tazered him.”

Becka’s eyes widened. This sounded serious. She hadn’t really believed it when Tony was going on one of his “zombie” rants, but this was happening to someone she actually knew.

“What do you think’s going on?” her face unusually serious, she tried to hold his gaze. It was easy to do, since they were the same height, Becka being on the taller side for a girl. Her light blue eyes caught and held his hazel-yellow ones.

“Honestly? I don’t even know. I-” he stopped, looked at the floor, walking in silence for a few seconds, then: “I’m really worried. Becka- I mean… I’m worried.. I’m worried that Brent might be dead.” He lifted his eyes back to hers, a world of pain and vulnerability in them.

Even though it was entirely inappropriate, she felt her breath catch and a warm pulse travel through her body at the sight, settling comfortably in her groin. Feeling her cheeks heat she tried to focus. This was more serious than a crush and a few quirks. “I doubt anything has happened. I mean, what are the chances? This isn’t a movie, nothing bad ever happens in Glennhaven.”

“Yeah but… Becka… all those things we hear about on the news… they all happen to normal people who think the same thing. A lot of them live in places like us, where nothing happens and so they think nothing will. Until some kid brings a gun to school or an earthquake destroys a whole street or until somebody gets kidnapped.”

Becka bit her lip, thinking and staring at the way her feet moved on the sidewalk. They walked in silence after that until a sharp “what the hell!” from David had her looking up. In front of them was their apartment building. In front of the building was four men in green army outfits who had guns in their hands. She didn’t know anything about guns, but if size had anything to do with effectiveness then they were packing some serious heat. One of the men, gun pointed at the ground, turned a glare on them and barked out “Names? What are you doing here?”

“We LIVE here!” said David. Becka just stared with wide eyes.


Incredulous, David spat out “David Jameson and Rebecca Robins.”

The man looked at another, who was busy flipping through a stack of papers attached to a clipboard. He paused, scanned the page he was on, and looked over, nodding at the first soldier.

“All right. I am Officer O’Malley. I’m here to help get all you people to safety today. Terrorists have reached Illinois and begun to set off dangerous chemical bombs as part of a tactic to get the government to release the corrupt dictator Azriel Hasheen. We are under orders to have everyone pack-up their essential; including any and all medication, for what could be a two weeks stay in one of the many local safe points. Inside you will find Mrs. Chance, who will assist you in packing and answer any questions you may have. We leave in one hour. You may proceed to your house now. Do not talk to anyone. Do not loiter. If you are not finished packing in one hour, you will be forced to leave without your essentials. If you pack more than twenty-five pounds worth of supplies you will be forced to leave your essentials. Now go.”

David opened his mouth, a furious look on his face, likely about to argue with or interrogate the officer. Becka put a hand on his arm, and he immediately halted, mouth still hanging open. She gave him a stern glance for good measure. “Not now” her look said. They needed to talk to their families. Arguing would get them nowhere; especially arguing with someone who had a gun that big.

David closed his mouth and glared one more time at the officer, before nearly running towards the door in his haste to see his family. Becka followed not far behind.

Inside was chaos. The stairway leading to their floor (the fifth floor) was full of people standing around, gossiping with neighbors, rushing up different levels, and; strangely enough, moving furniture. Usually most of their neighbors would be at work during this time of the day, so she was surprised to see it so crowded.

In the center of it all stood a woman, with a wide smile on her face, perfect white teeth and tightly coiffed brown hair. She was dressed in a purple suit, and had an expressionless guard standing a few feet behind her, one of those large guns clasped across his chest.   

“Hello, I’m Mrs. Chase. I’m sorry to meet under such strained circumstances. And who might you be?” she said in one of those overly cheerful voices that secretaries who worked for hugely successful companies always seemed to have.

“I’m Rebecca Robins and this is David Jameson. We live in the fifth floor. 5a and 5b respectively.” Rebecca stepped forward with a fake smile plastered on her face and continued past the woman without stopping. “We need to get home and talk to our families. Bye” she dragged David along behind her with a tight grip on his hand, rushing up the stairs.

“Becka!” a high, strident voice called out her name when they reached the fourth floor. She paused, one foot on the stairs, and waved back and forth for a second, almost wanting to ignore it to get to her family. David didn’t even pause, taking the steps up two at a time. She could hear him flinging his door open and shouting “Mom!” before it slammed shut.

A heavy set black woman came ambling up to her; Mrs. Jennings from 4b. With each step she took the heavy gold colored jewelry all over her body shook and jangled. “Is that Chance woman on the third floor?”

“Um. She’s on the first floor Mrs. Jennings.” Becka eyed the small flight of stairs that separated her from her own home.

“Can she see the fire escape on the third floor? Is she in the center by the stairs or is she by the door?” with each word she spoke, Mrs. Jennings moved her hands in a broad gesture, causing there to be a little tink tink tink of background noise to the conversation.

“Um, the middle, so she can see the third floor a bit, I think.”

Mrs. Jennings cursed, running one hand over her forehead and unintentionally slicking her hair back with her sweat. Her bangle bracelets clunked down heavily against her head.

“Why do you want to know?” Rebecca wasn’t sure what made her ask. She had had every intention of running home as soon as Mrs. Jennings stopped talking, but her curiosity got the better of her.

“Why do I want to know? Child, there is an army out there with guns and guards and some bullshit story that I can’t find hide nor hair of on the news! I’m getting out of here as soon as they aren’t paying attention. Pack lightly my ass!”

“But they’re from the government,” Rebecca said, startled. She too thought something else was going on, but it wasn’t like the army could do anything to them. She knew Mrs. Jennings believed in conspiracy theories about crazy things like crop circles though, so maybe her fear was a part of that.

“I know that. Ya’ll white folks have too much trust in authority. Not nothing good ever come from us black chilin’  listening to The Man when he holds a weapon and tells us we have to get out of our homes, ‘but it’s okay, we are just forcing you out for your own protection’.

‘Less you rich, nothing good ever come from you white folk listinin’ to The Man holding a gun and telling you to get out of your homes either, now that I think ’bout it.”

“Um,” Rebecca said, but it didn’t matter. Mrs. Jennings had already turned back and ambled through her doorway.


“Mom! Dad!” the house was eerily quiet for a second and then: “Becka! Sweetie! You’re home! Hurry, get to your room and pack up.” “Becka! Oh fuck, thank God your safe!”

Both her parents crowded in close, her mom running her hands up and down her arms as though she was trying to warm her up, while her dad jumped from foot to foot in anxiety.

“What’s going on?”

“Terrorists,” her dad said, as though that explained everything. Her mom nodded her head in agreement, lips tight.

“In [i]Glennhaven?[/i]” eyebrows lifting up, Becka waited for her parents to share her dubiousness, or explain things further. Instead her mom nodded again before turning sharply to her dad.

“Why are you holding those golf clubs? Those aren’t essential!” voice scathing, her mom stared at her dad, lips twisted to the side in a sneer. Her eyes shot darts at his, and her hands clenched.

“Neither is all that jewelry you’re packing away!”

“I’m not packing this! I’m wearing it.”

“Get real Kathryn. You aren’t honestly telling me that you’ll be wearing all that jewelry for two weeks.”

“At most two weeks. We’ll probably be back home by the end of the day.”

Her parents continued to bicker, so she slipped past them, footsteps light on the carpet as she made her way to her room.


Of course, the first thing she did was try to google what was going on. She wasn’t that surprised; though she was greatly annoyed, when her computer came back claiming a problem with the DNS. Next she tried her phone. A tendril of ice whipped back and forth in her stomach when she realized it had zero bars no matter where she moved in the room.

“Emergency calls only” it said in small print, at the top of the screen. She started at it a second, chewing on her lip, before slowly her fingers moved over the keyboard. “9” she pressed as she held her breath, “1” she swallowed. “1. enter”. She took a shaking gulp of air and held the phone up to her ear. She would find out what was going on.

“I’m sorry, the number you have called is out of service or temporarily disabled. Please hang up and try again.”

She sucked her breath in so fast that her spit flew to the back of her throat, and she coughed out harshly, trying to dispel the liquid. What was going on?

Her panic was interrupted four firm knocks on her bedroom door. Staring at it, she waited a second before going over and opening it.

“Miss Rebecca Robins?” one of the soldiers from downstairs stood in her doorway. She could see her parents hovering a few feet behind him in the background.


“You are to come with me. Leave everything behind. You’ll have a chance to come and get it later.”

“What? Why? Can’t I just hide my laptop real quick? I don’t want looters to get it.”

“That won’t be necessary. You’ll find out why once we get to the Intermediary building.”


“We have to leave now.”

She gazed behind him to her parents, posture radiating insecurity and confusion. Her parents just gazed back at her, similar expressions on their own faces.

She walked out.

“Don’t worry,” her dad hugged her tightly to him. “We’ll see you when we get to the safe point.  The soldier promised us they’d be done with you in a few hours.” His gaze flicked back and forth over her face, mouth set, searching, as though trying to find some visible clue about why she was being taken away before anyone else.

“We’ll see you soon, Sweetie. Just do what the soldier says and everything should be okay. Alright?” Her mom’s hug was tighter and more desperate than her fathers, voice heavy with worry.

She wondered what to say.

“I love you. See you soon.”

“We love you too pumpkin.”


Once outside the soldier slid into the passenger seat of a jeep that hadn’t been there when David and she first arrived. She climbed into the back.

The man was eerily silent. His muteness seemed punctuated by his unbending posture and stiff movements. Even though she was only a few inches shorter than him, she couldn’t help but feel extremely small. Getting in the back made the feeling worse, as she had a flashback of being a child, relying on what the adults around her said with no input or control about what happened around her.

Eventually another man came and slid into the driver’s seat. He didn’t introduce himself, just adjusted his mirror and started the car.

“If there are terrorists around,” Becka thought, “Why are we driving in a car that doesn’t have any windows, that is completely open to the world outside?” She hunched farther down in her seat.

The ride took a good forty minutes. Not because the distance was anything significant, but because there were so many other jeeps driving around, and fences were being put up at regular intervals, making borders where they had to stop and wait before being let through.  As they drove she noticed other buildings where groups of soldiers stood, directing people onto busses, or shouting out staccato orders. Everything was strangely calm, and no one put up a fight or argued with the soldiers. Some people were even smiling, and offering the soldiers drinks, movements fluid and relaxed.

As it was a middle class area and barely four o’clock, people were still dressed in their work clothes- formal clothes and shiny shoes. She once again noted how strange that was, and wondered if the shopping district was completely empty without anyone to run the stores.


She didn’t realize they had reached their destination at first. It was a normal building, surrounded by other normal buildings. They were enclosed in fences, but Rebecca had become used to that sight by then, and thought nothing of it.

“Name and purpose?”

  “Officer Smithers and Officer Goodwin. We’re her on orders from the preliminary office,” Driver said, handing over some papers and flashing an ID which was attached to his shirt.

                “Carry on.” The man stepped aside and they drove through.

                While the outside had been guarded by many men and a few women in camouflage outfits, the inside of the building was completely different. Suits as far as the eye can see- All black, all pressed, all perfect and neat. The Click Clack of shoes hitting the floor filled the building, and everyone seemed to be rushing around at a fast place, intent on getting to their destination and giving the impression of a controlled frenzy.

                The two soldiers walked up to a receptionist, handing her some paperwork without a word. After reading it she looked up and smiled at Rebecca, gesturing towards some chairs against the wall with her head. “You’ll be called back in just a minute Miss Robins. Please wait over there. As for you two,” she turned her head back to the soldiers, “you’re needed in section C. You better get going.”


                She waited there for a good thirty minutes. The receptionist appeared to have already forgotten her, typing on her computer and occasionally picking up the phone, placating the person on the other end with sayings like “He’s just finishing up. We just ran into a little speed bump. I’m sure he’ll be there any minute now,” or, “No-no-no-no. There is no problem. We’re just running a little late. There wasn’t a way to foresee these things, after all. No one has done anything like this in America before.”

                Becka tried to listen in to other conversations going on around her, but it felt like people were speaking in different languages. Code this, section that, area A, B, C, or D.

                Finally the receptionist stopped typing and looked up. “They are ready for you now dear. It’s the third door on the right. Good luck.” “Thank-you.” “No problem, just doing my job.”

                The room she went into was very empty. It was completely white; white floor, white carpet, white table and white chair. It was small, and at the adjacent side was another door. She pulled out the chair and sat down just as that door creaked open and one of those suit wearing walked into the room, holding a thick file while wearing a composed expression and walking with sure steps.

                He settled across from her and shuffled some papers around, spreading them across the table. Once he was finished he looked at her and smiled, hand reaching across the table to shake her hand. She met him half way.

                “Rebecca Robins. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m John, your intermediary officer here in section C. You must be very confused about what is going on right now.”

                Becka nodded, tearing off another thin slice of skin from her lip, which she had been worrying at since school let out. She swallowed her dry throat and opened her mouth. “Um. Yes. I heard something like this happened over at Saint County but I thought it was just rumors. No one seems to be freaking out, but there are people with guns everywhere and my cell phone isn’t working. Not even when I dial 911.”

                “It’s a perfectly normal response to be worried. I bet you feel very overwhelmed right now and are a bit confused about why nobody else is asking more questions. You probably feel nervous, like you don’t have any control over the situation.”

                Rebecca felt her eyes widen. It was like he was reading her mind. She latched onto this conversation, glad someone was finally talking to her. “Exactly! Nothing is making any sense, but everyone is accepting this like it is completely normal. Everyone is doing what they are told even though they have no idea what is going on.

                John smiled at her, and she immediately felt herself relaxing at his prideful and impressed expression.

                “Well I’m here to answer your questions. The truth is, Miss Robins, that we are currently in the middle of a revolution. The United States of America has been on a destructive path for many years now. Corrupt officials, dangerous experiments, and idiocy abounds. People can no longer be expected to look after themselves or make choices that are good for the human race. We are going to ensure that the majority of the population is safe and looked out for, without having the harmful responsibilities that most aren’t prepared for. I’m sure you’ve noticed it,” he leaned forward confidingly. “Sitting in class, trying to do your work, and some idiot starts arguing with the teacher and posturing for the sake of his friends. In your mind you think ‘why are you doing this? The more you argue the worse your consequences will be.’ It seems so obvious to you, but no one else notices.” His smile was knowing. “It’s even affected you. You have a brilliant mind Rebecca, but your grades don’t match it. Why? Because it seems pointless and fruitless for you to try. You don’t know what direction you want to take in the future, even though it’s catching up with you so fast. So instead of studying for something you don’t know if you’ll even end up using, you do something that seems fun and more rewarding to you, like playing video games or chatting on the computer. Then when you return to school everyone underestimates you because you haven’t memorized useless facts the way they have, even though everything seems so much clearer and more obvious to you than it does to them. You get looked down on, even though you are so much better than them.”

                Becka was staring at him with wide eyes, mouth parted. She was shocked when he said that there was a revolution going on, but before she had a chance to think about how she felt about it, he had started going on about her. The things he said were so true, too. It was like he was able to see every thought, every feeling she had ever had. She always yearned for something, though she didn’t know what it was, and most people disgusted her with their idiocy. Yet she was at the bottom of the social ladder, looked down on and ridiculed by people who thought they were better than her. “Even though,” her mind whispered, despite her trying to deny the thought as arrogant, “you are far better than them. Even though you are unique and they are just sheep who do what other people say. Even though they are manipulated by popular opinion and don’t see what is in front of their eyes.”

                “The new society will be handled with a guiding hand that helps people through all aspects of their life. It will be broken up into six different levels that are color coded. The majority of people will be level blue- average people who won’t have many responsibilities and will get to live their life simply by just going to work, having fun, and being taken care of. Very early on in their life their future career will be decided and they will know what that career is immediately and study it in depth. They will have a strict curfew and won’t be allowed as many entitlements as the higher levels, but they will be safe and most importantly they won’t be able to harm themselves or others.”

                Becka shifted a bit uncomfortably, thinking about the people in her class. This was wrong, right? Yet her mind went back  to an incident like the one John had described before and she recalled the way her parents sometimes behaved. A wave of guilt crashed into her as she realized that a part of her that it would be better if they didn’t have the chance to make any decisions for themselves.

                “The next level is level green. These will be the mangers, building monitors, and other people who will be able to make some minor decisions for the people of level Blue. They will have an hour more curfew, and a few more benefits, but for the most part they are the same as the people at level Blue.” He smiled deprecatingly.

“After that comes level purple. These are the soldiers. They have the ability to enforce decisions that people of higher levels dictate to them. They will not be making decisions for the people of green and blue themselves, but rather they will make sure that the will of the higher levels is carried out. They are there for the higher levels to use. They will have a great many rewards, and much more freedom. Their rights will be protected, to keep them safe from people accusing them of abusing their power simply because those people aren’t happy with their lot in life. In exchange they will be tools for levels yellow and up.

Yellow is next. Level yellow will be markedly different from the other levels. They will have many benefits and no curfew. They will get spacious houses and be able to visit other districts. People in level yellow will have specialized tasks that require them to make decisions for people in the levels below them. They will be able to make choices for those people, and affect their daily life. They too will be trained for the task they are meant to take up, and no other tasks. Many of the jobs in this level are meant to make sure that the people in the lower levels are happy, healthy, and calm. They are meant to keep the peace and keep things running smoothly for the levels above them. We’ll get back to that later, though.

Above yellow is Grey and Red. Grey consists of people who are in charge of large groups, a district, or a portion of the army. They too make decisions for people and gather data. Above them is Red. Red is made up of the bureaucrats who will run the nation.”

Rebecca blinked at him, her thoughts whirling. When he paused she opened her mouth, sure she should say something but not knowing how to respond to all this information. “Why,” She cleared her throat when it came out dry and gravelly, licked her lips, and tried again: “Why are you telling me all this? Why did you pick me up and no one else from our building?”

“Because Rebecca. We want you for level yellow.”

Her brain stuttered to a halt, voicing a denial. No. Why? She knew on the surface there was nothing special about her.

“Why,” she said again, the only thing she could think to say.

John’s lips curled up in a satisfied smile. He pushed one of the papers spread out in front of him towards her. “Would you read this out loud please, and tell me if it sounds familiar?”

She picked it up and scanned it, feeling the blood drain out of her face, leaving her looking pale with her eyes huge behind her glasses.

“What I would do is tie him up,” she read, voice quivering, “using standard rope, so that after only a minute it begin to feel uncomfortable and chaff his skin. I wouldn’t want him to be in anyway comfortable, after all. If he zones out during his punishment, he won’t learn a thing. After that I’d leave him in the dark for a few hours and not tell him when or if I’m coming back. I’d act unaffected beforehand, so he realizes that this isn’t a big deal to me and that his punishment doesn’t affect me in any way. I’d do this every time he made a mistake, so in his mind he begins to associate being away from me as punishment. I’d never let him out of his punishment room after the same amount of time, as I don’t want him to be able to predict when I’m coming.

As for hurting him, I’d do this all the time; even for minor things, as my mood changes. This way he doesn’t think of it as a punishment, but as normal. Subconsciously, he’d realize that his body is my property, and I can do anything I want to it. Eventually he’d come to think that the worst thing he could ever do would be to displease me or be away from me. The normal thing would be doing what I want, and pleasing me.”

She stopped as she came to the end of the paper, her terror a thin layer of ice constricting her body.

“Do you recognize where that’s from, Rebecca.”

“I wrote it,” her voice was hoarse, eyes still huge and terrified. “I wrote it on a bdsm board.”

                “One of the specialized jobs that some people in level yellow will have will be to act like a therapist. Instead of telling people that their unacceptable feelings and thoughts are okay, this “therapist” will train them to have only good thoughts and to be completely loyal. These people- Masters and Mistresses will use pain and pleasure to keep the peace. Some will do this to people who start showing ill content or disruptive behavior. Some will do it to train people for the breeding program, or to make former criminals fit to be integrated back into normal society. All of these jobs are very important. Of course, this is just one form of training that people in yellow have. Other yellow level people have very different jobs.”

                “Breeding program?” her voice didn’t seem connected to her body.

                “I am afraid that marriages will be arranged by the state now, and children only given to specific people. Also, those who are unable to be integrated into society for some reason but who have excellent genetics will be part of this program.”

                “Isn’t that a bit excessive? Working so hard to change the mindset of an individual just for; what, three kids at most?” she asked, thinking that the person couldn’t donate too much sperm without inbreeding occurring.

                “Each and every person is important to The Nation, Rebecca. We care about them all and wish to make life good for everyone. Of course, people who take on this responsibility will be able to choose a consort and house keeper of their choice, once they reach retirement age. As a thank-you for their years of service.”

                “And you want me for this job?” she said, trying to get her thoughts in order so she could think clearly. Everything seemed so surreal. “How did you even know I wrote this?”

                “We’ve been keeping tabs on everyone’s computer activities.

Yes, Rebecca, we want you for this job. Once you agree you will do one year of hard study, before becoming a Mistress or Master. You will then work with whatever people are deemed in most need of your expertise. You will be looked up to and treated with the respect you deserve. So what do you say Rebecca? We need people who are able to grasp the intricacies of the psyche like you are. Are you ready to accept and learn more? Or,” and here his voice turned wry, “do you want to go to the sorting areas, to become a blue like your parents are?”

                Rebecca blinked. What was happening? This was all going too fast.

                “I accept,” she heard her voice say. 


author’s notes: so this is my first attempt at creative fiction. I’ve had this story in mind for years. Tell me what you think. If I get reviews I’ll add another chapter. I promise next chapter has lots of sex-stuffs.