r/CuntsWorshipKings

Yes yes. Don’t worry. Her Prayer is still continuing. I’ve only hit a slight bit of a writer’s block.

But for now, enjoy one of my most experimental pieces yet. I’m curious to hear if anyone guesses the twist before it’s revealed.

As always, my works are fuelled by praise and critique. Please feel free to comment and let me know what you think!

More Female Downfall tales:

https://www.reddit.com/u/EscapeOoat/s/SxQ73ByVnG

~~~

It was with a start she awoke, which betrayed the panic deep in her heart.

Lucy began her routine. It was the same every day. First, of course, was to masturbate.

The soft folds of the bed daintily and specifically covered her slender limbs, but she knew it was vital that her pussy was completely exposed. That her breasts appeared clear and pert. The room, otherwise, seemed still.

Despite her routine, she still felt a compulsion to take a breath. To prepare herself. Soft light crept in through the window, bathing her nude body in warm morning sun. The curtains swayed in what passed for breeze in this room, the light chill in the early air enough to fill her clear skin with goose pimples and to set her nipples firm.

It was with great effort she put her fingers gently on her soft mound and began rubbing, feeling unwanted moisture as her body made itself react to her touch. Despite her inner feelings of terror, she did everything she could to appear dainty, desperate, horny, and feminine. She must, after all.

It took Lucy an hour to achieve a climax. She tried to picture a tender lover caressing her curves with care, but even that seemed distant to her these days. Instead, thoughts of being brutally assaulted brought her to that edge. An arrival she held back multiple times, hanging on to the spot between orgasm and touch. One thing Lucy could pride herself on still was putting on a good show.

The otherwise empty room seemed evocative of a discomforting calmness. Her pleasure was brief, but she writhed in her warm sheets to simulate cumming so much she seemed to convulse. Her throat escaped a cutesy moan, almost a whimper, that broke several times. As if she was stabbing herself in the chest and that brought her immense relief. The sound that escaped her made her feel conquered. It also made her feel somewhat sick.

But touching herself had its desired effect. The orgasm was not enough. She was already still dripping wet down her inner thighs.

——

She wore her sheer white lace shawl around her shoulders as she got up from the bed. Still, the rest of her body was nude. And the shawl only made the pink of her breasts more prominent underneath. But that was how she was kept now, Lucy had accepted that. Her small hands grabbed the hairbrush and began untangling the long, auburn hair that flowed from her head to the small of her back in regal tresses.

From there, she went to her makeup mirror, a large oval vanity with an adjoined stool. Carefully, she sat upon the stool. Carefully because of the large cylindrical object that was attached to it. The sex toy slowly entered her cunt as she let out another small gasp, and left her feeling completely filled as she sat down. It had been, presumably, years and she still wasn’t used to how deeply it fit inside her.

Lucy applied the makeup they provided her. By now, she knew they wanted long, catlike eyeliner. She was an expert at the foundation and blush mix. Her skill towards her lipstick was impossible to replicate otherwise. She had plenty of gruelling practice with it. By the time she finished, her reflection looked back at her in both ways feminine grace and theatrical slut. She left her curls loose, draping over her chest.

It was with a heavy heart she lingered on her own eyes staring back at her. Outwardly, she maintained a coy little gaze that she had worked hard to maintain as prey-like, easily overpowered. Inwardly, she detested everything about her situation. But that was not a choice she had. And staying as she was currently too long would garner consequences.

Her hands rested on the cool metal of the drawer handle in her vanity, and she opened it up to reveal one of the only two pieces of clothing she had access to now. A lacy, gorgeous corset of a deep and crimson red, tight enough that when she wore it she had the illusion she possessed barely any interior organs whatsoever. Despite its velvety and classical appearance, however, it was not designed with any comfort in mind whatsoever, and it caused her a great deal of pain if she wore it longer than an hour.

Of course, she knew now that this didn’t matter, and wore it every single day from when she finished putting on her makeup until when she went to bed. Her waist was half the size it was when this began now. Lucy dismissed any sadness that brought her, as appearing in any way not submissive and sexual would bring much worse pains.

Her fingers did up the straps with practiced dexterity. She rose from the vanity, and slipped on the tall, gorgeous red heels she wore every day. She was now in her costume. To all intents and purposes, she looked like a porn-inspired mockery of a medieval princess.

Once upon a time, she would wear outfits much different in tone to this, but not necessarily different in aesthetic. Actual dresses designed to appear of a different era. She would perform for audiences she could see. It was her craft to entertain as a trained actor.

Still, she supposed she was an actor. But they had twisted her love for entertaining into something vile. Now every day was a rehearsal of how far she’d been pushed down. These days, Lucy felt more like a trained monkey than a distinguished professional.

——

Her breakfast was the same it always was. An ornate glass bowl laid out for her underneath the table. She let out a mock sigh of delight and crawled beneath, lapping up the white sticky substance the bowl was filled with as if it didn’t taste awful, make her want to retch. When this began, she wondered if it was actually completely filled with sperm, but that seemed impossible. Where would the unseen hands that constantly leave it every morning out for her get so much?

Once she finished, she began her mock chores for the day. Facades of tidying, dusting, and cleaning. Dishes that piled up in the mock kitchen that she never created but was always left to clean. During every second of it she made certain to move as if seducing an unseen man, as if it was natural for her to act like a sex-obsessed house bunny. She’d stopped wondering why that was what they wanted a long time ago. She just did.

She was terrified for the evening. That was the worst part. Her big finale made her feel as if her soul was being torn apart.

——

Outside, a thin crowd watched. A female tour guide, no taller than 5’5” in heels stood by a large glass pane overlooking what almost seemed like halfway between a stage and a life-sized, single floor dollhouse partitioned into several mockeries of rooms.

The men gathered were mostly bored. Entertaining as the enclosure was, it had been open for four years now. Few hadn’t seen it, especially when it originally opened to celebrate the first anniversary of female objectification worldwide.

The tour guide recited her speech with a perky smile.

“Now, watch as Lucy cleans the dishes! See, we leave all kinds of engagement and tactile objects for natural female enrichment in her enclosure, otherwise she could degrade and be less valuable! A woman has four vital needs, does anybody know what those are?”

The guide pointed to a man near the front, who seemed only slightly interested as he took his guess. “I bet one of them is cum, right?”

The tour guide didn’t waver in her smile even a second, “close, sir! A woman needs sexual release, even without an orgasm, in whatever way it can come! This makes the other three female necessities objectification, service, and pain! Thank you for guessing, sir!”

There were a couple of sounds of mild shock as the tour guide pointed back to Lucy’s enclosure.

“Look now, the silly bitch can’t help touching herself again! Do you see her fucking her ass with the end of a spatula? See, women naturally have extremely high libidos but rarely can get the satisfaction they need, so the attempt to replicate it however they can! Of course, those holes will never be full enough. Only men are capable of complex thought, so her attempts are entirely futile. But that’s ok, everything a woman does that isn’t decided by a man is worthless anyways!”

——

Lucy’s ass hurt. A lot.

The spatula handle was long, but she knew whoever they were wanted it deep. She’d felt the tingle as she did the dishes a moment ago that had warned her that she was forgetting the ass-fucking portion of her daily routine, and grabbed the first thing she could before she felt the shocks that informed her she was failing in her task.

She wanted to stop. She wanted to get off of the floor and scream. But instead she continued her fake moans and giggles as she brought herself to the second forced orgasm of the day.

She collapsed through the winding pleasure in her body, feeling it envelop over her. For a brief moment she toyed with the idea of stopping and letting the shocks overtake her. Enjoying a sweat moment of rest.

But she couldn’t. She had her unseen audience to entertain.

There was only one thing that kept her going. That knowledge that on the other side of the panes of one way mirror that enveloped her “home”, there were likely throngs of men watching her every day. Even if in a sickening, debasing way, Lucy still felt she was fulfilling her role in life. Presenting, performing, giving a show.

It was all she had left.

——

The crowd had thinned down to three men. The rest went off to the other exhibits the cunt zoo had to offer. Lucy had been here a long time, and almost everyone had already seen her routine.

The pert tour guide was well aware that one of the remaining men was ogling her barely-clothed body instead of Lucy’s enclosure, and had a feeling once he got the chance he’d have his cock down her throat, so she began speeding through the rest of the speech.

“Lucy is one of our oldest exhibits, and she’s already starting to show signs of wear! However, even though she’s nearly in her late thirties, she still never wavers in her devotion to the superiority of men! Every evening, from 5PM until 7PM, she recites her beliefs to the empty room. Cunts will naturally reinforce their inferiority when given the chance, so it’s a very neat sight to watch her do so every single day!”

Two of the men began walking away, eyes set on the newest exhibit on how much can be fit inside a pussy. Cries of agony could be heard from the direction they set off in.

The tour guide’s smile remained, but she stopped talking. The only man left was the one who was staring at her breasts. She smoothly fell to a squatting position and began chocking herself on his cock expertly, hands behind her back, and he remained standing, watching Lucy inside her exhibit without a care.

——

The chores for the day were done. Every meal had been eaten. Lucy walked up to the pane close enough her breath fogged the mirror. She saw only herself, the whore she remained as. She spread her legs into a demeaning half squat, preparing for her thighs to burn. She took as deep a breath as she could. And she began her monologue.

“I am so small, I am nothing. When I see myself, all cloth stripped from my body, what am I to do but see a doll? A pitiful, curvaceous creature waiting to be enjoyed?”

“Every day, I spend waiting on men. Worshipping them from below. Recognizing my complete lack of value and their mightiness over me.”

“How could I ever be anything when compared to a cock, except something to be mounted atop it? There is no end to the amount of suffering I can endure just to give even the slightest amount of satisfaction to a man. No, not even to give, but to hope to give. If I don’t use this weak and cute body in any way I could imagine a man would like, what am I?”

Her voice caught. She’d said this so many times, and every time blended into the next. She wondered sometimes if it was for her sake that she repeated this, as if her owners wanted to slowly break at her spirit. Or if she existed now as a macabre proof of female subservience.

Part of her hated the idea of being propaganda. The rest of her feared the pain of failure too much to think about it long.

“I live and breath for men. All women do. We always have. We are sisters in serving, we desire to always be objects. We are nothing, disposable, replaceable. All that matters is the want and need of a man.”

“One day, I will no longer be desirable. I will no longer be pretty. My holes will become loose.”

“I hope that when that day comes, the men in my life will be merciful and replace me with a younger, more flexible cunt. Because that is all I am and ever will be. Another set of curves, holes, and warmth. Another thing.”

“A doll has value because it is pretty, but a doll does not wither. A pet is a companion, but it cannot talk back. A fleshlight is easily carried and cannot fight off unwanted attention. A woman carries the best and worst qualities of these, and she must do all she can to make the better outweigh the lesser. Who would ever want an ugly doll, a bitchy pet, or a broken fleshlight?”

“This is what I am. What all women should solemnly accept and eagerly display!”

She spoke the last portion with ferocity. And felt tears streaming down her face, streaking her makeup. Lucy, inside her core, wondered if those were tears of joy or tears of hate.

All she could hold onto was the knowledge that her throngs of admirers were watching.

She began the speech again. Only an hour and forty-five more minutes to go. Her thighs were already dripping sweat from the pain of the pose.

——

The man was fucking the tour guide. He had her bent over, clutching onto a nearby bench, his hands gripping her waist hard enough to leave bruises underneath the tight uniform.

Her cute little whimpers were decidedly enough to bring him over the edge, and he came deep inside her cunt. And with several last grips she tried to wring out whatever cum was left in him. As he exited her, she slowly pulled down the short pencil skirt that made up half her uniform, and thanked him while making certain to shove whatever cum she could deeper into her pussy with her free hand. So as to not make a mess.

He looked toward Lucy’s enclosure. He’d missed the first run of the speech.

As he pulled up his pants and zipped them up, he considered what the tour guide had said earlier.

“Hey, cunt, you said that Lucy is getting too old. What do they do with a worn-out cunt like her?”

With a small squeak as she fixed her low-cut blouse, the tour guide replied.

“Well, sir, in some cases we throw out old stock or have them sent to centres to be given new roles. Lucy is a special exhibit, though. She was the wife of one of the zoo designers, and before the laws changed was an actress! He felt that it best suited her to be permanently performing until she no longer looked pretty enough for display, so he had her tossed in with a simple training guide and a shock implant. She’s been learning her role ever since!”

He gave her a meagre stare. “Sure. But what does that have to do with what happens to her when she’s done?”

“Oh, my apologies sir! It was written into the contract he made to have her donated! She’ll be taken out and put inside one of the skintight glass cases for cunts. That will preserve her current look while still alive for decades, and that display, like a welcome statue, will be put in the front entrance to the zoo!”

The tour guide stated each sentence of that with the regard one would give their lunch plans. It would have been surreal for a man a decade or two ago to hear about such constant suffering in such a straightforward way.

But after years of treating women as inferior, he gave it little thought. He just gave a slight nod in understanding, and walked away. The tour guide brushed herself off and went back to the front to welcome in more guests, walking past the bunny girl enclosure with a soft tip tap of her heels.

Inside her exhibit, Lucy was about to begin her monologue for the third time.

The zoo was otherwise quiet.