The Milking Wheel

WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

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They came to my cell before dawn to prepare me. Actually the preparations had begun early last night when I was forced to drink the foul tasting purgative. After it tore through my stomach and colon, they began the enemas.

They started with five, each one a full two quarts. The first four were very hot water. The next was slightly less-hot oil. The oil enemas continued once each hour throughout the night. By morning, I was throughly clean inside. Now it was time for the outside.

First, an electric trimmer was used to reduce the hair on my head to nothing more than a slight stubble. Next, the same trimmers were used to remove the hair from my genitals. Then a liberal amount of some sort of depilatory was applied all over my body. Even my eyebrows were coated with the foul smelling white cream.

Ten minutes later they rinsed me off with cold water and applied a second, not quite so foul smelling blue cream that both burned and froze my skin at the same time. This they left on for nearly a half hour and then scraped it off gently with what appeared to be plastic knives or razors. The result was that, except for my eyelashes, there was no hair anywhere on my body.

The sun was just beginning to peek above the horizon when four guards formed a square around me and marched me to the center of the village square where the milking wheel had been set up.

A judge in formal robes stood awaiting us. “Do you understand why you are here?” she asked.

My lawyer was supposed to answer for me. She was supposed to say, “The accused has been convicted of man crimes against Womyn and has been sentenced to the humiliation of public milking. He understands that his actions caused embarrassment and discomfort to a member of the superior gender and that this public humiliation can only partially make up for that. If the offended is not satisfied at the end of the four cycles of humiliation and torment, the accused will be eunuchized.”

My lawyer didn’t say that, however, because I had represented myself. And since at this point in the proceedings, the accused was not allowed to speak, I merely nodded my head.

I had acted as my own attorney partly because I was, after all, a lawyer myself, but mostly because not even the best lawyer available would have made one shred of difference in the outcome of my trial. I was very familiar with the Protection of Womyn Act and the laws which had been passed in the past many decades leading up to it.

The first laws had been simple enough– women were to be treated equally in all regards. But as more and more women began taking positions of power, additional laws soon followed. Those laws became less and less about equality and more and more about superiority. The Protection of Womyn Act, usually referred to as POWA, was the final move to place women, now spelled Womyn, securely in power.

Men were still allowed in the workplace, but primarily for manual labor or menial jobs. Because of my aptitude and skills, I was one of those special few males who were able to go to an academic high school rather than a trade school. Then, because of my extremely high placement in the College Acceptance Tests, I was allowed into college and then law school.

I knew that I was basically the token male on campus. There were only a couple dozen of us at college level and I was alone in the law school, but I was determined to make the best of it and perhaps make it as a male in a female-dominated world. But I had not counted on Marlina.

Marlina Williams was one of the legal aides working in the office. She was a law student in her final year and had been hired first as an intern and then as a legal aide. There was no doubt that upon the completion of her studies she would eventually become a partner in the firm.

Since my position as a male attorney in the office meant I was relegated to the menial cases and grunt workups along with the interns and aides, Marlina and I often worked together. Recently, she began teasing me– flirting with me– even as we worked. Or at least that is what I thought was happening.

She would sit with her dress slightly hiked up so that I could see the top of her thighs. Or she would lean over the table across from me so that I could see her beautiful breasts beneath her silk blouses. Once, she even put her hands on my shoulders and leaned over me from the back. Her hair was brushing against my neck and I could feel the heat of her breath as she asked me to recheck some insignificant point in the article I was studying.

I knew that by law, I could not return her teasing. The very actions which were acceptable for her, were forbidden to me. I could not tease. I could not flirt.