Chapter One

THE FOUNDATIONS of Ne Reynian culture and tradition ran deep, ingrained in the hearts and minds of its females with a fierce pride that knew no bounds. It was a way of life that had been protected for generations, passed down like an unbreakable legacy.

Males were property.

Property did not have feelings. Property wasn’t mated because males were unworthy of emotions and attention. Property wasn’t educated. Property did not have sufficient intelligence to lead and govern. Property was good for one thing—fucking.

A male was sexually trained from a very young age to please females. He was subjected to brutal training in the art of sexual servitude. His body was molded and manipulated to please any female who desired it, without regard for his own desires or consent.

There was no such thing as consent because males were property, not people, to be used and discarded at will. Even if tears streamed down his face, the trainers showed no mercy, their hearts hardened by the belief that males had no rights.

When a male didn’t perform to expectations, a punishment was devised by the female instructor’s twisted imagination. Pain and degradation followed. Sex with females was never something to look forward to—it was used as a tool to humiliate and torture males, stripping them of their dignity and self-worth.

Males were property.

A female was coveted and revered in Ne Reynian society. They were the ones who carried on the ancestral line, preserving the bloodline and traditions of their people. They were the ones who ruled. Who warred. With their muscular physical form and impressive strength, they were indeed superior to males.

They were the educated ones, wise and knowledgeable in all aspects of life. In this world, females held the highest value and status. They were the ones who truly mattered.

When the time came to breed, a female could do one of two things: pick a male from the Merrket or from the males in her household. The Merrket was nothing more than a brothel. It was filled with males who were adorned with colorful fabrics and exotic gems in order to help females select the best of what was offered.

Once a female made her selection, she took him home so she could engage in sexual activities at her leisure. Once the female was pregnant, the male was returned, ready for another customer. This process was referred to as “shopping.”

If a female selected one of the personal males she had in her household, it elevated his status temporarily while she used him for sex. The air was usually thick with tension as the female made her decision. Afterwards, he would return to his regular duties in her house.

Like discarded scraps, some males were deemed the most undesirable and most useless. The males the Ne Reynians considered weak stock were abused, sexually and physically—not to toughen them up, but for cruel fun.

Every day was a living nightmare for them. Their existence was nothing but a constant cycle of pain and humiliation, with no hope for escape or salvation. They were used for sport by numerous females.

Kia was one such male. He was considered exceptionally beautiful by their standards with his light gray skin, even if he was defective.

As with all his kind, his eyes were completely black. Long, dark cerulean hair hung in dozens of braids thick as a finger. There was gold wire wrapped tightly around the end of each braid, and tiny silver bells were also tied onto the ends. They chimed softly when he moved.

He wore a seafoam green sarong tied at the waist. Easy access, after all. His skin was flawless, of course—females liked pretty things. He was a pretty thing, and he belonged to the most unspeakable female there was—Queen Ogill.

Kia had been with Queen Ogill for longer than he cared to remember, each day blurring into the next with monotonous precision. Ogill was known for her extensive collection of males, of which Kia was the prized jewel.

Every female in her palace couldn’t help but cast envious glances his way, their eyes reflecting a mixture of desire and disdain.

Queen Ogill used Kia not just for her own physical pleasure but also as a tool to assert her dominance within the matriarchal hierarchies. At lavish gatherings, she paraded him around like a trophy, reveling in the attention his appearance attracted.

It wasn’t uncommon for her to lend Kia to her closest allies as a sign of favor or to secure political alliances. In this world, such gestures carried more weight than gold. They, of course, could do as they wished to him, as long as there were no permanent marks or injuries.

Though outwardly compliant and trained to serve, inwardly, Kia harbored a storm of emotions that he dared not express. Anger, resentment, and a deep-seated yearning for freedom gnawed at him constantly.

He knew better than to show any of these feelings—the consequences would be dire. Instead, he learned to wear the mask of indifference well, letting the bells on his braids tinkle lightly as if in tune with his supposed contentment. He was nothing more than a pretty, empty-headed object.

Males were property.

Queen Ogill was particularly fond of Kia for his beauty, but also for his quiet, submissive demeanor. He never raised his voice or fought back, conditioned from infancy to serve silently. Then the worst thing that could happen, happened. He could not get aroused for a female.

The fact that he was not attracted to females meant nothing to them. Unfortunately, that very aspect of his being had led him to the situation he now lived in. He was considered weak stock. A male who did not desire a female? What an abomination.

Still, he served. He had no choice unless he was ready to embrace death. And he was not. His compliance, however, did nothing to shield him from the harsh realities of his existence.

Tonight was to be another display of the Ne Reynian way. Queen Ogill had organized a gathering—a spectacle of sorts—where the elite of their society would come to marvel and partake in the debasement of Kia and others like him.

As the guests arrived, the Queen’s Chamber came to life with a sense of grandeur and opulence. Ornate decorations decorated every inch of the vast room, from the intricate tapestries adorning the walls to the sparkling chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings.

The air was thick with the scent of rare incense, filling the space with a luxurious aroma. Dressed in their finest attire or adorned in formal military garb, the guests added to the bustling atmosphere as they mingled and greeted one another. It was a scene fit for royalty, an evening that promised to be filled with decadence and extravagance.

Kia stood stoically beside a grand, intricately carved stone pillar in the center of the hall. The warm light from gilded chandeliers cast shadows over his features. Guests walked around him, their eyes appraising and critical as they discussed his physique with as much interest as one might discuss a prized sculpture or a rare, exotic animal.

Kia kept his head bowed, trying to maintain an air of indifference despite the overwhelming scrutiny he was under.

As the evening wore on, the air grew heavy with a palpable sense of anticipation and cruelty. Whispers and murmurs died down as Queen Ogill stood up from her ornate throne, her muscular, towering figure draped in flowing black robes that glimmered under the dim light.

Against her pale gray skin, the contrast was striking—a symbol of her power and authority over the kingdom. The silence was deafening as all eyes turned to her, waiting for her next move.

“Tonight we celebrate our heritage and our rightful dominion over these lesser beings.”

Queen Ogill’s voice echoed through the chamber.

She gestured towards Kia and several other males to be brought forward. Kia’s steps were hesitant. The silence was broken only by the occasional snicker or jeer from the crowd.

As they laid eyes on Kia’s trembling form, a cruel kind of laughter erupted—a sound devoid of joy yet full of derision, like barking mogwomps hungry for prey. The atmosphere was heavy with malice and disdain.

“Enjoy!”

Queen Ogill laughed as she sat down.

Kia felt hands on him then, cold and calculating, as they forcefully stripped off his sarong. The delicate seafoam fabric fell to the floor with a soft whoosh, leaving him exposed to the hungry eyes around him.

He shivered as the cool air hit his now bare skin, causing goose bumps to rise. The silver bells that adorned his wrists and ankles jingled pitifully as he was roughly moved into position on a low platform at Queen Ogill’s feet.

The glittering gems and jewels adorning her throne caught the light and cast mesmerizing shadows across Kia’s vulnerable body. He couldn’t help but feel like a piece of meat being presented for inspection in front of a ravenous audience.

A murmur went through the room as Kia’s gaze shifted nervously around, waiting for his inevitable fate. The atmosphere was tense, charged with an unspoken understanding that tonight’s game was more than just physical humiliation—it was a calculated form of psychological torture, designed to break even the strongest of spirits.

Each breath felt like a weight on Kia’s chest as he prepared himself for what was to come. They would use him, his body a mere instrument for their cruel games. Every touch would bring nothing but pain and suffering.

His skin would bear the bruises of their sadistic pleasure, while his mind would be tormented by their callous disregard for his well-being. There was nothing to protect him from the mental anguish they would inflict upon him.

Males were property.

One by one, the females stepped forward to use Kia in various ways as a hushed silence fell over the spectators. They commented and made bets on his endurance and reactions—or lack thereof—their voices a constant hum in the background.

Despite his intense training, each touch felt like an invasion of his body, and he couldn’t get hard no matter what they used to stimulate his prostate. They watched him with a mix of curiosity and excitement, fueling their desire to hurt him, make him cry in pain.

But he did not cry. Throughout it all, Kia remained silent. His eyes were voids—black mirrors that reflected nothing back but the horrors inflicted upon him. When it finally ended, he was left lying on the platform, discarded once more like a broken toy after amusement had been extracted.

The ordeal could have stripped him completely—not just physically but emotionally and mentally—if not for one thing. Kia held on to hope—a tenuous flicker of rebellion that grew fractionally brighter each time he endured such nights.

It wasn’t just anger or hatred—it was clearer than those muddy emotions. It was purpose. A purpose that whispered in the moments he escaped into his mind that perhaps there could be more beyond this life of servitude and humiliation.

Males were property.

As the hall slowly emptied and silence reclaimed the space around him except for the distant chime of celebrations still ongoing elsewhere in Queen Ogill’s palace, Kia clung to that purpose like a lifeline in dark seas that surrounded them. Ne Reyn was ninety percent covered in water, and its inhabitants were amphibious.

Birth and circumstance had gifted Kia nothing but a beautiful appearance and an enduring spirit. All he had to cling to was hope. Hope for a miracle. Any miracle. Anything had to be better than this life.

Anything.