The Server Farm Part 5: A Revolt Crushed
By Elrohir, Elrohir57@Gmail.com; 


Edited by michael-leonard.

The Amazons Destroy The Men's Rights Movement And Eliminate Opposition.

You may not know me, but I have the same name as my famous father, Charles D.
(Chad) Green, Sr. He was the most successful of the Servers, men of Earth who
were kidnapped and subjugated, their bodies modified by force feeding them
genetically enhanced breast milk which enlarged their genitalia and
exponentially increased their reproductive potency. They were then used to
mate with the Amazon visitors to replenish the all-female population of their
world. Afterward the Servers were returned and allowed to mate with Earth
women in order to colonize that planet with hybrid descendants of the Amazons;
all female and all of superior strength and intelligence.

After fathering five hybrid Amazonettes with his Earth wife, Dad sired me,
Charles D. Green, Jr. As a male, I was an anomaly, not accounted for in their
rigorously regulated genetic design. As I said, however, Dad was the most
successful of the Servers, and somehow his enhanced reproductive system must
have modified ITSELF... at least that's what the Amazon geneticists think
happened. My Earth mother unfortunately died in childbirth, so Dad and I were
adopted by Juliana, the first Amazon with whom my Dad had been forced to mate
fifteen years earlier. She took us back with her to the Amazon planet, while
my oldest sister Cat stayed behind and finished raising her sisters. You may
now know Cat as Catherine A. Green, Secretary of the Treasury of the United
States.

Juliana cared for Dad and me while the Amazon researchers scientifically
studied us. True to their genetic design, I grew larger and more muscular than
the average Earth male, and I am quite intelligent. But, as I and others like
me have discovered, we are far from equal to our female siblings. I, for
example, have been extensively educated in logic and military strategy and
trained in martial arts and tactics, and yet in all of those areas I have been
consistently and completely defeated by the least of the female warriors of
our species. If it were not for our exceptional reproductive characteristics,
I doubt our Amazon mothers would have even adopted us: they probably would
have continued with the "catch and release" process they had successfully used
with captured Earth men for decades.

Owing to his especially robust genitalia, Dad was subsequently made to
participate in stud service to numerous Amazons, although for still unknown
reasons he continued to father a surprisingly (some initially said
disappointingly) large number of male children along with desired females.
Many of the Amazon mothers, however, soon loved their relatively runty sons as
much as their goddess-like daughters.

Dad eventually became quite assimilated, and was proud of his service to the
women of his new home planet. Several years later he volunteered to return to
Earth with Julie on a covert mission to accelerate the colonization and
subjugation process: they found ways to meet privately with the women of rich
and/or powerful families, and Julie would subdue them with a combination of
strength and the tranquilizing Amazon breast milk while Dad impregnated them.
Dad and Julie managed to convince each of the mothers that although their
offspring had been forcibly conceived, they would actually be quite
exceptional children of whom their mothers would be proud, and thus a
generation of hybrid Amazon movers and shakers was produced, who would have
readymade connections to the elite in politics, commerce, and the military.
Within twenty or so years virtually all key positions in Earth's governments
and industries were held by New Amazons, both male and female, although the
males were never the supreme leaders, of course, being slightly inferior to
their siblings.

During their three-year mission, Dad received repeated doses of Julie's Amazon
breast milk in order to keep his sperm production at optimum levels to assure
conception in each of their "victims" and they were successful, ", often
producing twins in families not known to have any genetic predisposition
toward such offspring. This was a higher sustained dose of the tranquilizing,
genetically enhancing breast milk than any Earth human had ever received, and
sadly, the tranquilizing part of the formula had deleterious effects on his
nervous system over time.

It was eventually discovered that even a single massive dose of the milk would
produce the same brain numbing, intellect destroying effect as many smaller
doses over time. A number of Servers were inadvertently transformed into
simpletons who became infant-like and almost completely helpless, although
their reproductive capacity was unaffected. Some of the Mistress Amazons,
however, actually came to prefer adopting these "Baby men", enjoying both
caring for them like children and also being able to use them as living,
breathing love dolls for sexual fulfillment.

My father became the unintended guinea pig for the various effects of the
breast milk before it was completely understood. Since the male orgasm is
largely a function of the contractions necessary to expel a given amount of
semen during ejaculation, the massive amounts he produced and expelled meant
that his climaxes were much longer, stronger, and more intense than other
Earth males', often to the point of being debilitating. They were pleasurable
to be sure, but during the mission he would often be so spent and exhausted
after impregnating the victims that he was too weak to move, making it
necessary for Julie to pick him up, throw him over her shoulder and carry him
away in order for them to make their escape. Only a year or so after returning
from Earth, my father became addled and unable to speak or move, so Julie had
to take care of him like an infant, bathing, feeding, and dressing him.
Fortunately, her Amazon strength waned little as she aged, so she was able to
perform those tasks and carry him around the house with ease. She still loved
him dearly, and she was pleasantly surprised to find out the first time she
bathed him that his reproductive equipment remained unaffected by his
affliction. I can remember coming home after school as a teenager on many
occasions to find their bedroom door closed and her wild cries of passion
emanating from within. It broke my heart that he was sick, but it gave me
solace to know that they were both still passionate for each other, right up
until his death two years later after an orgasm of atomic intensity put him in
a coma from which he never recovered. Nine months later, Julie's grief was
partly assuaged when she miraculously gave birth to my half-sister, Clarina.

I was sixteen years old when he died. Happily for me Julie had already been
allowed to adopt me, since I was not a blood relative to her, otherwise I
would have been farmed-out to another Amazon Mistress. After a suitable
mourning period, Julie began tutoring me on how to please a woman. I was quite
an apt pupil, she said, joking that we would have to add further soundproofing
to the house to keep the neighbors from complaining about her screams of
ecstasy. She is a remarkable woman; I soon fell in love with her, just as my
father had.

Julie tried to keep me to herself for as long as possible, but when I turned
eighteen I had to begin providing the same services to all Amazons that my
father had performed. Since I was young and virile, they made me work at a
rigorous pace, and in just a short time I made many, many of them very happy,
both young and old. A chip off the old block, just like Dad, I fathered mostly
sets of twins, and a few triplets, a good number of whom were male. I was in
great demand, and in the early years, at least, I was very happy in my work
and welcomed the challenge, continually trying to increase the number of
clients I could service in one day. My intake of Julie's breast milk, however,
was kept at a minimum in order to keep me as sharp as possible, and at that
young, strong age I found I hardly needed it.

Although I was born on Earth, I grew up on the Amazon planet, and I considered
myself a loyal citizen here, albeit a second-class one. All of my
half-brothers also enjoyed serving their Amazon mothers, and later, the women
who adopted them, catering to their Mistresses' every need. Our sons'
generation, however, did not feel as fortunate as we did. As they reached the
age of service many of them began to complain that they should have more
freedom, and later publicly advocated for many more rights, even the right to
not be adopted by anyone and to not be required to perform their most valuable
of services to the Amazon race. They wanted to be equal, even though they
clearly were not. A large group of them even tried to organize under a
euphemistic title, the Servers Fraternal Order, in order to accomplish their
aims, but after some embarrassingly public protests that organization was
quickly banned by the High Council, and they were forced to go underground.

The young bucks' group was soon in open revolt, collectively deciding that on
a given date they would strike and refuse to perform their required service
until their demands were met. This first effort at rebellion, however, failed
miserably. Those participating in the strike were all either overpowered and
forced to perform or, in the case of the most recalcitrant ones who could
absolutely not be made to perform, had their seed forcibly extracted from them
in very painful fashion, which left some of them unable to perform ever again
even if they wanted to, forming a new class of men fit only to be house
servants, a new class of Eunuchs.

In response, the SFO's revolt, like many revolts, soon became violent. On a
prearranged day, the leadership ordered all the group's members to attack and
kill their Mistresses. Many balked at this, but ultimately most of the rebels
participated. Some of their intended victims were caught from behind or
unawares and were killed, but many of the Amazons realized what was happening,
reacted quickly, and defended themselves, easily overpowering the most
formidable of their attackers.

This led to a swift reaction by the High Council. They had their Warrioress
Prefects round up all known SFO members; they and their leaders were quickly
tried and convicted. The trials were televised worldwide on the Council's
government channel; the punishments were televised on the Sex & Violence
Channel to avoid exposure to children.

The first verdict night televised the punishment of three top SFO leaders, and
there were many viewing parties conducted all over the planet. Owing to
Julie's seat on the High Council, I was invited to a party held in the lounge
below the Council's chambers; a number of dignitaries also attended. I was
there with Julie, but as she had many contacts to make, and I was left to sit
in front of one of the smaller screens with a number of other Servers, many of
whom I knew well.

The first verdict carried out was against Lanz Jonson, a young and somewhat
smaller but still Adonis-like man-boy known to be exceptionally well-endowed,
even compared to the other genetically enhanced Servers. I laughed at the
irony of his last name, but others around me failed to get the Earth-culture
joke, so I was a bit embarrassed and kept quiet for the rest of the program.
As the evening progressed, I would learn that each convicted man's psyche had
been studied extensively and his punishment tailored specifically to suit him.

Jonson was brought naked into a large, pink-padded room and made to stand
before one of the largest Prefects on the planet. A blonde woman about 6'5"
who looked to be about 30 in Earth years but was probably much older, she
dressed in the smallest black bikini I've ever seen. She was "cut" as my Dad
would say, without an ounce of fat, including boobs; she had muscles upon
muscles, all huge, veined and corded iron. Her massive shoulders and lats
tapered down to a narrow waist that was composed of an iron eight-pack and
thick cords of back muscles. Jonson's attack on his Mistress had been
lackluster and unsuccessful; the criminal charges for which he'd been
convicted were read to him by an off-screen voice, and he was offered clemency
if he would renounce any allegiance to the SFO and then instantly prove his
loyalty by performing the services for which he had been bred, on the Prefect
in front of him, in any fashion the Prefect demanded, and for as long as she
wanted. I hoped for his sake (and, I'll admit, for our entertainment as well)
that he would take the deal.

Jonson steadfastly refused, although he had broken out in a cold sweat and was
clearly trembling with fear. His eyes were dilated and wild in appearance,
darting from the woman's surprisingly feminine and beautiful face to her
humongous and deadly arms, legs and abs. His "Jonson" was apparently
intimidated, remaining flaccid even though he was obviously mesmerized by the
giant beauty before him. Finally, though, he seemed to screw up his courage,
and began spouting some sort of SFO propaganda slogan, but was suddenly
interrupted when the Prefect's hand shot forward and grabbed his throat,
lifting him off the floor and carrying him over where to where she slammed him
against the wall. Thus suspended, he clawed at the Prefect's massive arm to no
avail, then panicked and flailed his arms and legs uselessly until he was
almost unconscious from the choking. At the point where his eyes became
half-closed and his limbs began to go limp, the Prefect threw him down to the
floor on his back, which brought him gasping back to life.

She instantly pinned his arms with her legs and, facing his feet, she pinned
his legs with her giant hands. She lowered her head and sucked his massive but
terrified sex snake into her mouth and throat. You could see her cheeks suck
in and her chest expand as she applied massive suction to his captive member
for what seemed a long time, drawing blood into it until it was involuntarily
hard. Herhead began to bob up and down, making Jonson moan with pleasure he
had not wanted and was afraid to enjoy. Her pace quickened steadily,
overwhelming him with intense sensory input like he had never been forced to
feel before. He soon began shaking with the fear of going over the edge; he
was horrified to feel the onset of the impending roller coaster climax that
would soon be forced upon him by his ruthless captor, immediately after which
he knew would almost certainly come his doom.

In almost no time, Jonson cried out and his entire body violently spasmed
three times, the Prefect's throat visibly flexing as she powerfully swallowed
in time to each huge spurt he produced. At the last one, she deftly inserted
one long finger into his rectum and attacked his prostate, making the spasm
become an explosion. She devoured every bit of it and continued to suck him
dry, withdrawing her finger and squeezing both his balls with that hand,
forcing out every drop he contained. After he finally gasped and fell silent,
and his body became slack, signaling he was completely spent and empty, the
giant Prefect looked aside into the camera, winked, and then completely bit
through Little Jonson, wrenching her head back and forth like an attacking
shark until the offensive piece of man meat had been completely ripped away
from its owner. She raised her head up slightly and spat out Jonson's former
pride and joy onto his stomach in the direction of the camera.

He screamed, a long, high-pitched, and blood-curdling scream that went on and
continued until the Prefect finally sat back and trapped his entire face
between her huge, round, muscular buns, stifling his cries completely. She sat
there, impassive, while he struggled ineffectually beneath her, his arms
completely trapped, his legs kicking and pushing futilely against the floor,
and his blood flowing out from the place where his member used to be. The
Prefect seemed to be totally oblivious to the smaller man dying beneath her:
She nonchalantly scooped away a neglected last small drop of her victim's cum
from the corner of her mouth with her finger and sucked if off her finger,
then held out her hand and admired her nails. Jonson's flailing failed to
dislodge her, nor even make her have to move to squelch him. He looked like a
large bug trapped under a stone; gradually his pitiful movements became ever
slower and weaker, and then eventually ceased. When satisfied that he was no
more, the Prefect rose up and left the room without so much as a look back at
her handiwork. Two naked male prisoners came into view of the camera. I could
see that both their bodies and faces were a mass of cuts, bruises, and welts,
and they were obviously visibly exhausted from what must have been hours of
beatings. With much effort they grabbed their dead compatriot's feet and
weakly unceremoniously dragged him out of the room.

An hour later the next session began with a graphic of the defendant's name
and charges. He was Lek Candor, one of my many sons, I'm sorry to say. I had
never seen him, but I remembered his mother Sylvia, a very loving woman who
had been so kind to me just in the short time we were together to conceive Lek
and his twin sister. He was a better-looking version of me: about 6' tall,
dirty blond short hair, a thick muscular build but not lean and well defined.
I couldn't imagine why he felt he had to have this grandiose idea of "freedom"
and equality" when he had been raised and treated so well. Whatever his
Mistress was like, he appeared as if he'd well cared-for, physically at least.

He, too, was brought naked into the pink padded room. The Prefect who
confronted him, however, was much different: She was bigger than Lek, to be
sure, but she was also young and quite voluptuous. She might have been
muscular , but it was hard to tell because she was not lean, and she had a
very feminine appearance. Long, dark, wavy hair cascaded over her ample
shoulders and down onto her bodacious, milky white breasts. The middle of her
hourglass figure was quite small, accentuating her wide hips and big, shapely
legs. She had a pleasant round face and large green eyes a man could easily
fall into, giving her a sexy but sweet girl-next door quality.

Lek was made to stand before the Prefect while he was offered the same
clemency terms as Jonson. He could barely take his eyes off the woman before
him, and his manhood was exhibiting signs that his resolve might weaken, but
he nevertheless stammered that he refused to accept clemency. The Prefect
sighed with obvious disappointment, then smiled sadly and walked slowly up to
him, capturing him with her beautiful adoring eyes, which were widened by
apparent sexual attraction. She seemed to genuinely desire him, her nipples
very erect and flushed a deep pink. When she reached him, however, she
continued to look sadly in his eyes even as her knee shot up into his balls.
The air whooshed out of him as he collapsed to his knees in nauseated agony.

She grabbed his hair and walked forward, pushing him backward until she could
straddle his body, and then she clamped her legs around his torso and fell to
the floor on her side, taking him with her. She began scissoring his
midsection, slowly and inexorably increasing the pressure every time he
exhaled, until he could no longer take a breath. When he finally began gasping
for air, however, she suddenly released the hold, allowing him to suck in a
huge breath. Before he could complete it, however, she slipped her leg from
under him, pushed his back to the floor and pivoted over on top of him. She
and slammed her breast and right nipple into his gasping open mouth, sealing
it, then moving her palm down the breast to bring down the milk.

He gagged and had to swallow before he could recover and breathe through his
nose. The milk began to work on him almost immediately, paralyzing his
voluntary muscle system while leaving him awake and alert. He began sucking
reflexively like a small infant, unable to stop himself from consuming more
and more of the insidious liquid. He was soon completely immobilized, but her
force-feeding continued: she massaged the breast over and over, expressing
massive quantities of milk into his waiting throat so rapidly that he gagged
once or twice but still could not stop taking it in as fast as he possibly
could. His generously proportioned love wand rose mightily in response to the
sensual part of the experience, even as tears flowed from his eyes with the
realization that he was in danger of drowning. He knew also that even if he
didn't drown, he could not take much more of the destructive formula.

The feeding seemed to go on forever ... or so it seemed to just about
everyone, because the crowd in the room where I was watching had gone silent,
but gasped when suddenly she pulled her nipple away and switched his mouth to
the other humongous breast and continued her milky invasion of his mouth. Even
though he was paralyzed, you could see the terror in his eyes as he could feel
felt the delicious liquid's active ingredient seeping into his brain,
softening his entire being -- except for the turgid tower which sprouted from
his pelvic area and remained erect.

"Mmm," she sighed contentedly while he remained glued to her breast, slurping
loudly, his will no longer his own. When at last she had emptied both breasts
so much that everyone watching all over the world could see that their size
had noticeably decreased, she rose up and stood over him, looking down in
examination to make sure her work was complete, but with a sad expression,
nevertheless.

His eyes, though able to focus, had a severely glazed appearance. His jaw was
slack just like the rest of his body, and his mouth was slightly open,
drooling. He was oblivious that the last few drops a significant amount of
milk had dribbled across his face. I could see that his intelligence was
already waning, just as I had seen the same condition in my father not long
before he died. The Prefect knelt down and gathered him into her arms, proving
to be indeed quite strong, picking Lek up with ease and cradling him in her
arms like she was about to carry him over the threshold on their adoption
honeymoon. She smiled at him, then sucked on his nipple for a bit, causing his
power pole to actually twitch. Then she rather savagely bit the nipple, which
also made his member twitch, but tears began to flow from his glassy eyes.
Satisfied, she smiled at the camera and carried him out of the room, his body
limp but his organ still saluting.

I later learned that poor young Lek joined a good number of the lower-level
prisoners who had been converted into Baby Men in order to prevent any further
rebellion from them. They also served to satisfy a small but growing market of
Mistresses who wanted such a man to care for and/or to use as a living,
breathing sex toy.

The final punishment session was reserved for the SFO's ringleader, Bruce
Mahlmsan, who was one of my hundreds of half-brothers fathered by my Dad,
although he was much younger than I. He was perhaps the biggest Server I have
seen, being about 6'6" tall and weighing about 300 pounds, most of which was
muscle. He had shaggy blond hair which framed a handsome face with bright blue
eyes, high cheekbones, and a square jaw with a cleft chin. He really did not
look much like my father and must have gotten most of his good looks from his
mother, Freyda Mahlmsan who, had she been an Earth woman, I would have said
must surely be of Scandinavian descent: tall, blonde, and svelte more than
muscular. Bruce was similarly long and lean more than muscular, looking more
like a champion swimmer than a bodybuilder.

He fancied himself to be a talented martial artist, and had been one of the
SFO members who had successfully attacked his Mistress on Kill Day: he had
grabbed her from behind and managed to choke her out before she could succeed
at defending herself, although at his trial he had sported a black eye, a wrap
for three broken ribs, and a broken foot in a cast, all courtesy of his late
victim. After hekilled his Mistress, Bruce sexually had his way with her body
in many depraved, degrading ways, and then mutilated it afterwards. There was
a palpable air of hatred for him in the crowded room from where I was watching
the broadcast.

There was no offer of clemency to Bruce Mahlmsan: he was carried, hogtied,
into the pink padded room by two of the largest Warrioress Prefects. They
unceremoniously dropped him face down on the floor and removed his restraints,
then backed warily out of the room and shut the door.

Bruce rubbed his wrists and ankles where the restraints had been, then stood
up and looked around the room. He guessed at the location of the cameras and
began shouting at them, but the sound was off and he was partially obscured by
a large graphic of his name and the charges of which he had been convicted. We
couldn't read his lips but we could certainly see him making angry, offensive
gestures at the cameras, and then as the graphic went away he began flexing
his muscles, in an attempt to intimidate the audience, I guess. The door
suddenly opened, and he turned to face it, an evil grin on his face as he
arrogantly faced his fate. The grin went away, though, when he saw a naked
Faydra Rukan walk into the room.

Faydra had been Chief Prefect for many years, and her reputation was
legendary. She was a large chocolate-brown woman with wild black hair that she
wore in ringlets framing her fiercely beautiful face. She was a little over 6
feet tall but appeared much bigger because of her massive body. She was built
like the proverbial brick outhouse, with huge breasts, a narrow waist, and
wide muscular hips accompanied by enormous round glutes of stone. Her muscles
were very large but perfectly sculpted so that she in no way looked
musclebound. She looked like she could chase down a tiger and kill it with her
bare hands -- and she probably could, if she so desired. Over the years,
Faydra was known to have "accidentally" killed 4 men on different occasions
when having sex with them. It was hard to imagine what kind of damage she
could do to a man INTENTIONALLY ... but I suspected we were about to find out!
The sound came on when she entered the room.

Bruce tried to keep up a brave face, but inside I suspect he was a bit
unnerved, and this was confirmed when a close up camera view showed a trickle
of sweat run down his face from his temple; the artery in his neck could be
seen to be pulsing quite rapidly. He must have incorrectly assumed figured
that Faydra was too old by this time to actually be the one who would punish
him. But, owing to the fact that (unlike us males, even the ones descended
from them) Amazons actually age very little over the course of their
lifetimes, Faydra was almost as formidable as she had always been. Faydra
herself did some impressive flexing, impressing everyone -- including her
opponent's manhood, which began to rise to the occasion of its own accord.
Bruce was now visibly shaking with both fear and arousal at the same time. He
nevertheless went into his fighting stance, and with his hand he brazenly
beckoned Faydra to come at him.

She did exactly that, steadily advancing as if there was no one there waiting
to try to kill her. When she reached Bruce, however, she exploded into action,
launching a furious barrage of kicks and punches. Bruce was actually several
inches taller than Faydra and had a longer reach, but her blitzkrieg attack
kept him on the defensive, backing away while he tried to ward off each of her
blows. Her offensive seemed to go on forever, her stamina amazing everyone,
including Bruce. It went on for so long that we eventually could see bruises
forming on his forearms, knees, shins, and feet from where he was frantically
blocking her devastating Amazon weapons. He was an impressive male specimen,
but under her relentless onslaught he was tiring, and an increasing percentage
of her blows and strikes were finding their targets. The ball of one foot or
the other found his midsection more than once, leaving large red marks on his
flesh; a fist found his left eye, causing it to swell closed.

Amid his frenzied blocking, he managed to land a few punches of his own, but
they were ineffectual, seeming to merely bounce off Faydra's iron body. Bruce
began to tire even more, dropping his fists little by little, until Faydra was
at the end able to land blows at will. A kick to the common peroneal nerve of
his left thigh hobbled him so he could no longer back away from her. She then
drilled him in the brow above his right eye, opening a cut that bled into the
eye, so he was effectively blinded. The fight, if you could call it that, was
effectively over, but this was not a boxing match. Faydra slowly, methodically
took Bruce apart, nailing his arms, legs, abs, and face over and over, until
finally when he was almost out on his feet, she finished him by driving three
knuckles of her pile-driver right hand into his solar plexus. He folded up
like the cliche cheap suit and fell to the floor in pain, his diaphragm in
spasm, making it impossible for him to breathe. He curled up into a ball,
gasping. When the spasm subsided he continued to lie still, sucking wind as
hard as he could in his crippled, semi-conscious state. Faydra stood over him,
waiting for his breathing to return, and when it did, she grabbed his feet,
turned him on his back and stretched him out, spread-eagled. His face
contorted in fear, and he began whimpering "No! No! Please...."

"Now don't you worry, Honey" Faydra said sweetly, "now that you're done
fightin' me ... aren't you?"

"Yes, YES! No more, please" he whined.

"Oh no, baby, this is where the fun part starts, I promise!" She went down on
her hands and knees and slid herself up his prostrate body from his feet, her
bodacious warm breasts gliding along his skin, her huge, hard nipples tickling
his abdomen and then his chest. She inserted a nipple between his bruised and
bloody lips, and instinctively he began sucking, his member reflexively
engorging itself as her breast milk began to flow. Before he could take in
more than a few drops, however, she withdrew the nipple from his mouth and
kissed him, a long deep kiss that caused his manhood to harden to
diamond-cutting proportions. "There you go, baby! Just enough milk to ease the
pain and let you give me what Mama needs ... ."

Faydra stood up, turned around and faced Bruce's feet. She reached down and
grabbed his hips with her hands, and in an even more impressive show of
strength, she lifted him up, upside down, and brought his crotch up even with
her face. She sucked his member into her mouth and pumped him in and out by
the hips several times, causing an audible "Uuuhh ... " to issue from him,
even though the blood was rushing to his head.

Faydra took him out of her mouth long enough to look down and say ominously:
"Your turn, baby; lap it up, and do it right, y'hear?" She then sucked him
back in and again went to work on him, her mighty biceps flexing to enormous
size as she held him aloft and pumped his hips in and out. Despite his
weakened condition, his fear drove him to make a super human effort: he
grabbed the backs of her massive thighs and pulled his face forward into her
hot wet, man-eating vagina, and he licked for all he was worth in hope that
she would come before his head exploded. "Mmm ... " she sighed, losing
concentration for a second as his tongue accomplished its objective. After
what seemed a long while she trembled slightly as a small yelp escaped from
within her. "Ooh, baby, that was good for a start. Now for the main course!"

She dropped his head to the mat and threw his hips away from her so that he
landed on his back with a thud, and he grunted as some of the wind was knocked
out of him. Before he could blink she pivoted and sat, mounting him in one
fluid motion. "OH YEAH!" she cried, as his massive meat pole slipped into her.
She immediately began riding him furiously, like she was riding a bucking
bronco, except that she was the one doing all the bucking. Her love muscles
held him tightly, lifting him off the floor by his member with each upstroke,
then slammed his ass to the floor with each downstroke.

"UGH! UGH! UGH!" he cried painfully, as her monstrous shapely ass slammed down
onto his relatively small hips with each violent stroke. She looked hotly
intohis eyes as she pounded him deeper and deeper into the mat with each
crashing blow. An awful, booming THUMP THUMP THUMP echoed through the room as
she rode him harder and harder, his face contorted in pain even as her
gripping sex massaged him toward orgasm. "YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!" she bellowed in
time to her strokes.

Suddenly one of her pounding crashes made him scream "AAAAIYEEEEE!" in agony
and a very audible CRACK was picked up by the microphones. I could see a
reddish, purplish color spreading across his hips: apparently his pelvis
fractured under the weight of her repeated crushing blows. Now there were
clicking noises as the broken bones rubbed against each other. Bruce's face
contorted in pain, although he looked to be on the verge of passing out.
Suddenly he screamed again as Faydra crashed down upon his broken pelvis one
horrendous final time, and audible BOOM echoing off the walls. She looked into
his eyes and grinned.

"YEAH! ALMOST THERE, BABY!" she yelled, as she switched from up and down
strokes to thrusting her hips forward and back, violently slamming his cock
against her wonder walls. Her first few strokes pushed him up the mat almost a
foot at a time. "STOP MOVIN', DAMMIT!" she growled, and clamped her hands on
his shoulders to keep him still as she continued thrusting. I saw rather than
heard his clavicles collapsing under her hands as she crushed them in the iron
grip of her hands. His screams became bloodcurdlingly painful as his body was
being reduced to a bag of bone fragments. But suddenly they both cried out in
unison; his eyes rolled backward in his head as his back arched in an apparent
orgasm so violent his backbone seemed about to snap, while Faydra screamed out
her climax even as she continued furiously thrusting to extend it. As Bruce's
orgasm and his conscious screams faded, his screams also faded even though
Faydra was still on top of him, thrusting away. His eyes suddenly opened and
went wide, however, when there was a sudden tearing sound, and he screamed yet
again in shock and even more agony. Faydra sat still, oblivious, trembling as
massive orgasmic contractions reverberated through her body.

When at last she was still, she sighed with contentment, and then stood up and
looked down at Bruce. The cameras zoomed in on a red pulsing jet of blood
squirting from his pelvic area. She giggled and said "Oh!" rather
embarrassedly, then quite theatrically spread her legs and relaxed her love
muscles, releasing the remainder of his severed member to fall out of her and
drop onto the floor. "Thanks, baby," she sighed. He was semi-conscious and
barely able to move, and could only groan in response. "Here, honey, you can
have this back." She picked up the severed sausage, reached down and stuffed
it far down his throat. He gagged, and then gagged again and again, weakly
trying to clutch at his mouth and throat. Faydra walked away while Bruce
continued to make the most awful choking sounds I have ever heard. The camera
stayed focused on him, however, until all his noises finally stopped and he
became completely still. A cheer went up from the crowd in the room.

I had no love for Bruce or any other member of the SFO, but what I had just
seen shook me to the core as I watched four more beaten and limping men walked
out into the room and with much difficulty drag away the nearly unrecognizable
carcass of what had once been a proud Adonis of a man. The rebels had all been
reduced to crippled, whimpering blobs of humanity or, if they were lucky,
simpering idiots.

The Men's Rights movement had been crushed out of existence, and remained so
until the remaining Servers and their male descendants learned their place in
our society and became completely subservient, even in the face of harsh
treatment from some of their Mistresses. After some high-profile abuse
incidents, some of which were fatal, some of the more benevolent Amazons
themselves organized the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Men and
later persuaded the High Council to pass the Unnecessary Abuse of Men Act,
which did not grant us rights, but did at least mandate that we get the same
humane treatment consideration that other dumb animals receive.