ACT FIVE, SCENE ONE

Another three and a half years since the last flashback:
it is now 2036,
early summer,
in a Victorian Grade II listed townhouse in Islington, London.

“Friends and Fuckers! Welcome! Lick my pussy, all of you!” Hildegard was dressed in a red basque which showed off the buxom curves of her large jiggling breasts. Cunts was by her side, proudly naked, her own tits huge and perfect, beautiful despite their vintage artificiality. They kissed, ostentatiously penetrating their tongues deep into each other’s mouths. There were hearty cries of “M’ cunt!” and “M’ cock!” from the arriving guests, many of them members of the youth wing of the Fuckers Party, naked bar their “I’m a Young Fucker!” T-shirts. Waitresses circulated serving drinks and canapés, also nude apart from their black-and-white aprons and jewelled-tailed buttplugs.

Hildegard continued: “You, the youth of our Party, are the best and greatest hope for our nation – which is why we have invited you here to help celebrate our recent achievements. Four years ago, when we were both still students, it became clear to Emma Jane and myself that the New Enlightenment was an unstoppable force, set to transform this land into a nation of fuckers – a society devoted to Pleasure. Last year Emma Jane achieved her doctorate in the History of Fucking, and I founded the Royal Society of Fuckers. The progress of the Party has been unstoppable. As you know, Cunts and I may not be leading it past the next election – which we fully expect to win with a landslide – but we will still be devoted fuckers, shaping our society in other ways. So, welcome, tonight, here to our London home, to the first of many Fotzenficker-Cuntslicker fuck-ins! Eat, drink, be merry – and fuck who you want, when you want, how you want!”

Soon Emma Jane and Hildegard were sat on their rear patio, watching the various lustful goings-on in their long landscaped garden. The closest fucking group consisted of half a dozen pretty young ladies, all wearing their “I’m a Young Fucker” T-shirts and kneeling on the grass as they ate asshole in a circular daisy chain. Cunts smiled indulgently. “Ah, beautiful!” she enthused. “Just look at that blond slut over there! See how she slurps with her tongue, all the way down to the other girl’s cunt and back up again? That’s the proper technique: loosens up the girl’s cunt so she can use her fuck-slime to lube up the asshole. Then it’ll be easier to stick her finger in there, or even a dildo, when the time comes. But the girl over there with the frizzy black hair, she’s gone straight for trying to tongue-fuck her girl’s ass. Problem is, without a good coating of cunt-slime that pucker’s not going to open up.”

“So,” replied Hildegard, “is this ‘Academy of Fucking’ thing happening then, Fötzchen? Sounds like you’re already in full pedagogical mode!”

“Royal Academy of Fucking, Hildy, if you please,” smirked Cunts. “No reason for our new and highly ‘Enlightened’ Californian royal couple not to grant us that. After all, they gave us the Royal Society of Fuckers, forced Labour into coalition with us, proclaimed in public that throat-fucking is good for you – oh, and, endorsed Bates buttplugs. Besides, there’s a building ready for us on Marylebone Road: all we need to do is replace ‘Music’ with ‘Fucking’, and we’re off!”

“I lick my cunt off to you, Schlämplein,” chuckled Hildegard.

But Emma Jane had cast her eyes back towards the asshole-eating daisy chain and was exclaiming, “No no, that won’t work, bitch!” For the hapless black-haired girl was now trying to insert her middle finger into the tight puckered hole of the brunette in front of her, and it just wasn’t working. “Here, let me help!” called Emma Jane, slipping off her chair to join the girls on the lawn. “That asshole needs some pussy-juice on it, cunty-pie,” she explained helpfully. “Here.” She reached underneath the brunette’s ass, scooped up two generous fingers' worth of pussy-slime, and smeared it on her pucker. “There, now use your tongue to keep licking her pussy,” she explained to the first girl, “and that will help you scoop out more fuck-slime, so you can open up her shithole nicely. Then you’ll be able to stick your finger in nice and deep, see?”

“Oh thank you, Doctor Cuntslicker,” enthused the girl. “That’s so helpful!” she added, as her tongue began dutifully slurping at the brunette’s cunt.

By the time Cunts returned to the patio, the back of a reddish-brown head, topped with a nurse’s cap, was visible bobbing gently forward and back between Hildegard’s thighs. “Dolores, glad you could make it!” said Cunts, as she resumed her seat next to her fuckbuddy. Dolores mumbled what sounded like “Yes Miss” – somewhat indistinctly though, as her face remained firmly glued to Hildegard’s pussy.

“Dolores is a nice submissive bitch, don’t you think, Cunts?” Hildegard grinned, as she stroked the younger girl’s auburn hair. “She says she’s studying chemistry but wants to become a nurse. I think she’ll go far, don’t you?”

Cunts watched for a few seconds, admiring the way Dolores gripped Hildegard’s clit between her dampened lips whilst tickling it with her tongue from within. Hildegard gasped in pleasure. “She’s good at eating cunt, definitely, Hildy,” Emma Jane opined, before chuckling, “Tell me about Hildegard’s chemistry, then, Dolores.”

“High in copulins, Miss,” muttered Dolores. “Volatile C2-C5 aliphatic acids.”

“Translation?”

“Tasty cunt, Miss.”

“Agreed. And how are you at rimming, Dolores?” Cunts lifted her legs high so as to slide her buttocks down her chair, to display her tight asshole winking cheekily from between her buttocks.

“Yes Miss,” muttered Dolores, detaching her glistening face from Hildegard’s crotch and shifting sideways.

“So, Hildy, are you going to join me at the Royal Academy?” asked Emma Jane, as Dolores began slurping at her brown hole. “I can be Principal, and you could be Chairperson of the Department of Pervy Shit – oh fuck, Dolores, that’s good, yes, yes, you like the taste of my shitter?”

“Serine- and threonine-rich residues, ether-bridged to a variety of oligosaccharide struct–”

“Bitch, what the fuck’s that mean?” Cunts interrupted.

“Juicy fucking asshole, Miss,” replied Dolores, before resuming a wild slobber up and down between Emma Jane’s two slimy orifices, whilst tickling at the tighter one with a well-lubricated finger.

“To answer your question, Fötzlein,” continued Hildegard, “all this pedagogical stuff is not for me. Don’t get me wrong – I admire your determination to take the hopelessly unfuckable of this world and turn them into expert fuckers. But I don’t have your cuntsplaining patience – and my vision, you know, is a bit different. I think if we are to build a nation of fuckers with the urgency that task requires, we need to summarily get rid of the unfuckable, not waste time trying to reform them. Send them back where they came from or, if they won’t cooperate, eliminate them entirely.”

Cunts groaned – partly in pleasure at the gorgeous chemical dance which Nurse Dolores’ tongue and fingers were enjoying between her thighs, but partly in exasperation at Hildegard’s apparent hardness of heart. “Oh, Hildy, really? That seems unnecessarily cruel. If someone is trying, we should give them a chance. I mean, look at that girl I was helping over there: she’s not a bad fucker, she just needed some proper tuition; now, look, she’s eating asshole like a…” But even Cunts could not maintain the coherence of her discourse under the continued stimulation Dolores was giving her. “Oh fuck, Dolores,” she exclaimed, “you’re a real pro: where did you learn to give head like that?”

“Imperial College London, Miss,” mumbled Dolores, as she redoubled the intensity of her double-orifice slurping and fingering.

Hildegard laughed. “You are too naïve, Emma Jane. Yes, that slut with the frizzy black hair can learn, because she is a willing slut. But already you can see in our society that undercurrent of resistance to the Enlightenment vision: the religious antediluvians, the ethnic minorities, the prudes, or just the too-damn-clever-for-their-own-fucking-good. We offer free expulsion flights to all the Undesirables and Objectors, and yet some of them still choose to stay! And what about the old and unfuckable, once they get all menopausal and erectile-dysfunctional, with saggy tits and gnarly dried-out cunts and weeny dicks? You can’t educate such people. We need a… a final solution!”

“Oh fuck!” shouted Cunts. Primarily, this was in reaction to Dolores, who was now sliding two fingers in and out of Emma Jane’s pussy, curling them upwards so as to scrape against that wonderful rough pleasure-giving spot on her inner wall, whilst simultaneously fucking the tip of her tongue in and out of her gently flaring asshole. But her exclamation was also a flinch and a reprimand directed at Hildegard. Emma Jane pushed Dolores’ face out of her crotch so she could muster the self-control and clarity of mind to exclaim, “Oh God, Hildy, can you hear yourself? Surely you can’t mean that!”

Hildegard took a deep breath, before waving Dolores away. Dolores pouted, her cheeks and lips still glistening with fuck-slime, but dutifully slunk off  (“Yes Miss”) in the direction of the house. “I have already commenced negotiations, Emma Jane, with the City of Westminster, to take over directorship of the Princess Alice Hospice on Oxford Street. I expect it to come through in the summer – about the same time that you start your Academy of Fucking…”

“Royal Academy of Fucking,” corrected Cunts. “And what exactly do you mean by ‘negotiations’?”

“Oh, horizontal ones, of course,” chuckled Hildegard. “At least, the leader of Westminster City Council is usually horizontal when I meet him. The dildo I shove up his shithole is generally vertical – but he seems to enjoy it; at least, he’s already agreed to my appointment…”

Troubled at the implications, but wishing not to do her fuckbuddy an injustice, Cunts thought for a while, before a playful smirk appeared on her face. “‘Wankminster City Council’,” she giggled. “That’s what we should change it to, once we’ve won the next election.”

Hildegard laughed. “And ‘Princess Asshole Hospice’,” she added.

“What about ‘Oxfuck Street’?” added Cunts cheekily.

“Mmm, just opposite ‘Marble Arse’.”

Both of them burst into happy noisy playful laughter.

“But seriously, Hildy, I’m worried for you: a hospice?”

“It’s a place where people go to die, Schlämpchen. I will just… extend its role slightly.”

Emma Jane paused. “Shit, Hildy, really? Tell me you don’t really mean that.” There was pain on her face, and her heart pounded with barely suppressed fear.

Hildegard looked Emma Jane in the face, her eyes piercing, her expression grave. “Yes, Cunts, really,” she said firmly. “How else will we pay for the Pleasure, the fucking, the Medical Modifications, the Flexible Fertitility, the GM – all those things which make life worth living? You’ve read the reports by our financial team: we can’t keep people alive who don’t contribute to the free fucking society. If they won’t or can’t keep up their part of the bargain as upstanding fucking citizens, then they need to either fuck off, or we will make them fuck off – one way or another.”

“Oh, but Hildy, surely…”

Hildegard did not let Emma Jane object, but interrupted – though with more levity: “Don’t you worry your pretty little cunt, Emma Jane. The Fuckers Party will need a pair of new co-leaders, of course – but there are plenty of worthy candidates,” she said, gesturing around her at all the fucking couples, threesomes, and groups filling up their back garden. “And now I need a pee,” Hildegard added, as she got up and made her way indoors.

“You could try Peter from accounts,” Emma Jane called after her. “I think he likes that sort of thing!”

But Hildegard was out of earshot, and Emma Jane allowed her eyes to roam around the garden and patio, as she went over in her mind what Hildegard had said. Was that really the right way to roll out the Enlightenment? Surely, education, inspiration, training, the transformation of culture – that was the way forward! She stood up with renewed pedagogical determination, before having another look around at the various fucking formations in the back garden. The lesbian daisy-chain was now arranged alternately on their fronts and backs, eating cunt with glorious passion whilst spearing each other’s assholes with their middle fingers. In a flowerbed to the left, Norah from HR was stroking a pair of Young Fuckers’ large stiff dicks, her mouth wide and her tongue outstretched, ready to catch their crossfire. In the gazebo on the right, Deputy Party Secretary Thalia was taking a standing DP from a pair of Young Fuckers, the front one male but the rear one female and sporting a large pink ribbed strapon.

But Emma Jane’s eyes lit upon a young couple fucking on one of the patio benches. The girl was pretty, dark-skinned, slightly plump, lying on her back with her “I’m a Young Fucker” T-shirt pulled up to reveal a pair of lovely jiggling breasts. The young man, with a headful of slick black hair, was fucking her missionary-style, his long thin cock sliding effortlessly in and out of her wet hairless cunt. “Ooh, nice cock,” exclaimed Emma Jane – and it was: not thick, but long, very long; and every now and then the boy would pull it fully out so as to tease the girl’s vulva, revealing a beautiful, improbably bulging mushroom-headed glans nudging against her slimy fuck-lips. “Hey, what’s your name, long cock?” she called.

The boy looked up in surprise, his cock poised halfway along its journey into the girl’s glistening cunt. “Richard,” he said.

Cunts laughed. “Nice dick, Dick – can I call you that?”

The dark-skinned girl giggled. “‘Dick, Dick’ – that’s cute. Keep fucking me, Dick-Dick, come on, I wanna come. I’m Zara, by the way,” she added, for Emma Jane’s benefit.

Richard dutifully resumed his fucking. He was clearly enjoying this cunt: it was hot, tight, generously oozing fuck-slime, and deep enough that he could plunge his whole very long cock all the way in, to feel his bulging glans pressing against Zara’s cervix even as her pussy-lips smooched at his balls. But Emma Jane was not satisfied: the pedagogue in her was rising, and she interrupted again: “Hey, Dick, can I make a suggestion?”

Richard paused again, evidently slightly disgruntled at being interrupted mid-thrust – though the girl giggled, her plump dark tits jiggling as she warned, “Watch out, Dick-Dick, here comes Doctor Cuntslicker with her ‘Top Tips for Young Fuckers’!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to get in the way, Dick, but just watching you I was wondering; Zara, are you getting much pleasure from Dick’s angle there? I know he’s liking it because you’ve got a great slimy cunt, but is it actually getting you off?”

Now Richard looked annoyed – and, to his chagrin, the girl replied, “Come to think of it, I’m not feeling a whole lot – though it’s nice seeing Richard enjoying himself, I guess…”

“Oh please!” Cunts sighed. “It’s not our job as women to give men all the pleasure, is it, Zara? That’s what the New Enlightenment came to fix: pleasure for everyone in equal measure – cocks and cunts! If your pussy’s not buzzing, Zara, then it’s Dick’s responsibility to dick you better! Here, Richard,” she continued, reaching down to grab his shaft. “Look, you’re fucking her straight in and out – great for you, because your lovely bulgy dickhead gets plenty of cunt-stroking that way. Nice, isn’t it?” Richard nodded and would have continued his straight in-and-out fucking, but for Cunts gently but firmly pushing his body forwards so that his cock angled downwards, the topside of its base now rubbing against Zara’s clit. “Now grind your cock against her this way,” she commanded, gripping his pelvis to direct him.

Richard did so, and Zara squealed with delight. “Oh fuck, that’s good. Yeah, Dick-Dick, that’s how to fuck me. Why weren’t you doing that before?”

Richard spluttered incoherently in response, but smiled, evidently pleased by the effect his newly discovered fucking technique was having upon the girl. But Emma Jane was not finished. “Good, remember that, Dick – but now try this,” she said, firmly pulling Richard’s body downwards so that his cock was sliding more horizontally up Zara’s cunt, but further out, so his glans was rubbing against her front inner wall. “Your big bulging cockhead is just the right shape to stroke her G – see?”

Richard grinned even more widely, as he felt the topside of his glans rubbing against Zorah’s hidden rough patch, and Zara began to squeal with ecstasy. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, that’s it, that’s the spot, that’s so fucking good, keep fucking me like that, Dick-Dick. I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking…” But suddenly Zara paused, momentarily alarmed, and looked at Cunts pleadingly. “Oh Jesus, Doctor Cuntslicker, it feels like I’m gonna pee! Is that all right? If he keeps fucking me like that, I just can’t fucking stop myself, I…”

“You’re gonna squirt, Zara!” Cunts exclaimed. “Let it happen, slut, let Dick fuck that squirt out of your Skenes, it’s natural, it’s beautiful, and it’s fucking hot. Do it, Dick, keep fucking her like that till I tell you!”

Richard did as he was bid, and soon Zara was screeching ecstatic beautiful obscenities to the night sky as her climax approached. “Now, Dick, pull out now!” Emma Jane commanded, grabbing his cock. “Beat her cunt with it!” Richard did as he told, slapping his hard bulging cockhead against Zara’s vulva, as her squirt began: first a piddle, then a puddle, then a huge fountain of clear liquid which shot upwards into his delighted face.

“FUUUCK!” screamed Zara, as Cunts grabbed Richard’s cock and began jerking it hard. The boy roared, and his glans exploded. Cunts angled it downward, so that his cum shot directly at Zara’s vulva, coating her slimy fuck-lips with rope after rope of warm cock-cream, even as her residual squirt continued to dribble out of her cunt.

Richard stayed poised over Zara’s body, admiring his handiwork, as the girl started to scoop up the creamy mixture of cum, cunt-slime, and squirt which coated her flaring fuck-lips, slurping it off her fingers with an eager tongue. “Nice work, guys!” Emma Jane clapped. “Great squirt, Zara – was that your first?” The girl nodded, exhausted but delighted.

“And what a marvellous cock you have, Dick!” added Emma Jane, dropping to her knees to admire it. She took the end of it in her mouth and gave it a gentle suck, felt the beautiful mushroom head between her lips, traced the shape of it with her tongue, and tasted the glorious cocktail coating of semen and cunt-cream. She looked up. “With a bit of training, you could be a first-class fucker, Dick. Have you considered applying to the RAF?”

Richard looked momentarily confused before the penny dropped. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “You mean the… the new fucking academy place? Is that…”

“The Royal Academy of Fucking,” corrected Cunts, before leaning over and taking one long tongue-slurp of the combined gloop coating Zara’s vulva. “We open in the autumn. You both have great potential,” she said, smacking her lips and standing up. “I look forward to seeing your applications. But now, I must leave you: Hildegard appears to be taking a long time over her pee…”

Emma Jane wandered through the house searching for her favourite fuckbuddy. First, she checked the downstairs cloakroom – but that was occupied by Peter from accounts, sitting on the toilet whilst Party Spokesperson for Health and Social Care Julie stood over him pissing on his ecstatic upturned face. Next, she checked the kitchen – but the only person there was Violet, Party Spokesperson for Food, Farming and Rural Affairs, repeatedly plunging her face into a large bowl of Eton mess while a male Young Fucker rammed his dick into her cunt from behind. The living and dining rooms were full of numerous groups of the great and the good of the party faithful fucking in a variety of positions – but Hildegard was not there either. Moving to the first floor, Emma Jane interrupted several couples who had opted for the more comfortable option of fucking in one of the guest bedrooms; most impressive was the gangbang featuring Amelia, head of the Young Female Fuckers Brigade, two cocks in her ass, one in her cunt, and two in her mouth all at once. “Very impressive, Amelia,” thought Cunts, “just the sort of fine feminine example we need heading up our Youth Department.”

It was only as she climbed the staircase to the second floor that she heard Hildegard’s voice – and Dolores’. “I should have guessed,” smiled Emma Jane indulgently. “The girl really does give good head – and Hildy enjoys that so much!” Poised to join them (“Nothing like a threesome cuntsome, is there?”), she paused on the threshold of the master bedroom to listen.

Hildegard must have been sitting at the head of the bed, as she was out of sight from Emma Jane’s vantage point just outside the ajar doorway, but Cunts could just see Dolores seated naked on the armchair at the other end of the room, nurse’s cap still perched on her head, but her hair arranged now into a pair of side pigtails, each tied with a red bow. Her legs were spread wide across the arms of the chair, and one finger slid gracefully in and out of her neatly trimmed pussy. She spoke in a strange high-pitched squeaky voice: “I’m yours, Miss.”

“I know,” came the sound of Hildegard’s voice. “And I like sluts who know their place, Dolores. Hold your cunt open for me.”

“Wike vis, Miss?” Dolores continued to squeak, “I’m a vewwy obedient swut, you know, Miss.”

Hildegard cackled with delight. “I like obedient sluts, Dolores.”

“Oh yes Miss, I wiww awways bewong to you, Miss.” She hawked a large gob of saliva onto her exposed clit and began slowly rubbing it in, whilst singing to herself: “Ooh, pwetty cunt; I wike pwaying wiv my pwetty cunty…”

“Here, Dolores, let me see you stick this in your ‘pwetty cunty’.” A dildo twirled through the air from where Hildegard was sitting, and Dolores caught it in one slimy hand. Emma Jane recognised it: jet black and very thick, Dolores examined it with undisguised lust. Holding her gleaming cunt-lips open with the fingers of one hand, she nudged the black silicone cockhead against her vulva and slid it in.

“Oh, wooky sticky big bwack cock in my cunty-wunty,” Dolores squeaked, as she began to fuck it in and out, her pussy-lips stretching wide around it. “Is vat good for Miss? Does Miss wike seeing Nurse Dowowes’ cunty-wunty aww stwetched out?”

“Fuck your cunt, Dolores, go on, fuck yourself with that big black cock!” Hildegard was panting as she spoke, and her voice trembled with pleasure and desire. Emma Jane smiled: she knew her fuckbuddy well and knew she must be rubbing herself off as she watched. “I like big black cocks, Dolores, I love watching big black cocks pounding in and out of hot juicy cunts!”

“Wike vis?” squeaked Dolores, grabbing the base of the toy with both hands and speeding up her cunt-pounding so that the dildo became a blur between her thighs.

“Oh yes!” cried Hildegard. “Fuck that cunt, Dolores, harder. Faster, Dolores! I want to come watching you! Yeeesss!”

“Dowores is coming, Miss!” squeaked the girl. “Dowores wants to serve Miss, wants Miss to come watching her fuck her squidgy cunty with her big bwack dick!”

And come they did, both of them, with squeals and moans and the bellowing of obscenities. Emma Jane couldn’t see Hildegard, but Dolores continued to writhe and squirm, grinding the dildo deep inside her, desperate to squeeze every last spasm she could out of her dripping cunt. Eventually, she pulled the thick black toy slowly out of her pussy, so that Hildegard could watch her glistening lips stretch wide, leaving her pink fuck-tunnel gaping and the dildo glowing. “Heehee, squelchy pinky cunty all gapey wiv me big bwack cock,” she giggled, smiling at Hildegard seductively and licking her red lips. “Was vat good, Miss?”

Cunts could hear Hildegard still panting in pleasure. She smiled. How wonderful, Emma Jane thought, that they could have this open relationship! How wonderful that she could delight in her partner’s pleasure, instead of being possessive and jealous. How wonderful that Hildy could fuck Dolores, and Cunts could suck young Dick’s cock, and slurp his cum off Zara’s pussy – without shame, without guilt, without reprimand. This is what the Enlightenment is all about! This is why we need to transform society – to teach everyone to live in freedom and Pleasure, always and forever!

“Yes, Dolores, very good,” Hildegard was saying, as her breath regained its equilibrium. “You see, Nurse Dolores, I have a strange relationship with black cocks. I like them – but not their customary bearers.”

“Yes Miss,” intoned Dolores.

“In fact, I think that there comes a time when society needs to be purged of its negative influences – don’t you agree, Dolores?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“And often it is those who are different from us who are the worst influences – either because of where they come from, or what they think or believe. Some opinions should not be permitted, should they, Dolores?”

“No Miss.”

“And those who hold such opinions, or who have such backgrounds, need to be cast out – or sometimes even culled, don’t you think, Dolores?” Hildegard’s tone of voice was becoming more insistent.

“Yes Miss, absolutely Miss.” Dolores’ legs were still parted wide, her cunt gaping and gleaming.

“You see, Emma Jane doesn’t see it my way, Dolores. She thinks people can be taught, reformed, lifted up from the pathetic manner in which they were born, shaped into better people, freer people, true fuckers, pillars of an Enlightened free-fucking society. But I think she’s mistaken, don’t you?”

“Yes, Miss.” Dolores re-inserted one finger into her cunt.

“In fact, I think she’s utterly deluded – not really a true believer in the Enlightenment. I would go as far as to say, a traitor – don’t you think, Dolores?”

Emma Jane, poised at the doorway to the bedroom, stifled a gasp – while Dolores replied blankly, “Yes Miss,” as the one finger in her gaping gash became two.

“And traitors, I hardly need to tell you, need to be removed. They need to be expelled from the Party, from society, from the nation. Sometimes traitors need to be culled – just like the Undesirables they purport to protect!”

Emma Jane’s jaw was trembling, and her heart beat fast with pain and humiliation. But Dolores panted, “Yes Miss.” There were three fingers in her cunt now, sliding determinedly in and out.

“Good, Dolores. And sometimes traitors need to be replaced, don’t you think? In fact, Dolores, I think Emma Jane needs to be replaced – with you, Dolores!”

“Oh! Yes, Miss!” Dolores squeaked and panted, as she rammed four fingers deep into her wet fuck-gash.

“Dolores, Emma Jane does not approve of my plans for the Hospice. She thinks it’s cruel culling the unfuckable. But I need someone at my side who is a true believer, who is prepared to subjugate her feelings to the highest, purest demands of the Enlightenment, to expel where one needs to expel, to cull where one needs to cull!” Hildegard’s voice was strident now, possessed of a demonic idealism which, though Emma Jane had heard it before, had never seemed so terrifyingly real. Tears coursed down Cunts’ cheeks, and her whole body trembled with rage and pain.

But Dolores screamed, “Yes Miss! I will be your devoted follower, Miss! I will replace Cunts at your side! To build the Enlightenment, I will fuck where one needs to fuck, I will cull where one needs to cull, I WILL KILL WHERE ONE NEEDS TO KILL! Thank you, Miss, I worship you, Miss, fuck me, Miss!” She balled her hand into a fist, and rammed it hard, wrist-deep, into her gaping cunt, while screeching inchoately in the ecstasy of pleasure, devotion, desire, and the untrammelled madness of ideology.

Emma Jane screamed and ran.

ACT FIVE, SCENE TWO

Saturday 17th July 2060

“Oh that’s good, Dick, I’m going to come…” Cunts was on top, grinding her clit hard against the base of Dick-Dick’s cock, feeling his cockhead pressing hard against her cervix. Her large firm fake tits, dripping with spit, dangled in his face as he slobbered over them in ecstasy. “Come with me, Dick!”

Dick-Dick sped up his pace, calibrating, as only he knew how, the perfect balance between grinding Cunts’ clit and pleasuring his own dickhead, so that their climaxes would wash over them simultaneously. Soon he felt her cunt spasming, and his cock exploding deep inside; then her cervix squeezing and pumping rhythmically, and his cum squirting joyously into that living, lovely space, even as he continued to slurp and suck at her big round wet tits.

Cunts, unusually, was quite silent as she came: none of the filthy fuck-talk which she usually enjoyed, and knew Dick-Dick enjoyed. Dick-Dick didn’t mind, for his mind too was partly elsewhere.

They rested in each other’s arms, feeling the man-cum swashing and squelching in their shared fuck-space, as Dick’s cock gradually softened and shortened, and tears began to fill his eyes.

“Oh, Dick, not still sad, are you?” smiled Cunts, as she licked his tears off his cheeks. “Why? See how much we have achieved! See what a wonderful world we have had the privilege to help to create! A fucking world, a world full of Pleasure, a world devoid of possessiveness or exploitation or jealousy. A world where everyone can fulfil their dreams.”

“E. J., I don’t care for any of that, you know, more than I care for you.”

“Stop right there, Dick. I know what you want to say, but I’m not going to let you. I tried ‘love’ once – and it’s shit: all it does is hurt. I respect you far too much to allow you to fall into that trap.”

Dick-Dick said nothing. He knew, better than Cunts, how trapped by love he already was, but, through glistening eyes, he thought, and he kept his silence. And Emma Jane looked into the middle distance and thought carefully too…

“Hildy, how can you do this to me?!” she had pleaded. “How can you betray me like this?”

“Ach, Schlämpchen, what rubbish! You who have always proclaimed the virtue of free fucking, remember? ‘Emma Jane’s going to fuck and fuck all she likes… no more possessiveness, no more monogamy!’ And now you have the temerity to be jealous?”

“Jealous?! No, Hildy, you can fuck anyone you like – even that dumb redhead of yours.” Emma Jane spat in disgust. “But we were partners in this enterprise, Hildy. How many years have we been side by side? We instigated this revolution, we are transforming society – and you turn your back on me now? Don’t you see what this could do? If you and I split, we split the Party, we split the Enlightenment, we split the country, we destroy everything we have built together!”

Hildegard laughed. “You overestimate your own importance, Fötzlein.” Her voice oozed scorn. “Go, Cunts, be the great sexual pedagogue you always wanted to be, if that amuses you. But whilst you play your silly games, ‘Professor’, I will be defending the Enlightenment at the chalk-face. I will be defeating its enemies, eliminating its doubters, destroying those who threaten us – and for that I need people about me with no scruples, people who are prepared to fight fire with fire. You, ‘Cuntslicker’ ,” – she pronounced the name with exaggerated contempt – “are just a wimp, a pathetic apology for an idealist, a self-obsessed self-fucker without any true vision of what this Enlightenment is actually about.”

“And you really think that redhead cunt of yours has a better vision, Hildy? ‘Yes Miss, no Miss, wooky fisty pwetty cunty’ – surely not!”

Hildegard laughed. “Of course not, Fötzchen. She is a mindless drone, an idiot, a slave. She has no sense of self beyond what others grant her. I once thought you would be like that – but despite your vulnerability, you proved to have more integrity. Dolores Datchet, unlike you, will do as I say: that’s what makes her preferable. So fuck off, Emma Jane.”

Dick-Dick looked up into Emma Jane’s eyes and saw that they too were leaking tears and that her jaw was trembling. “E. J., are you OK?” he asked, pulling her tight to himself.

Cunts was tempted to speak, but held herself back, instead banishing her pain to the past where it belonged, and concentrating on the here and now. And so she ground her vulva against Dick’s pubic bone and felt another shiver of pleasure pass through her. “Oh, good, good,” she muttered, as her tears dried on her face and she felt a tremor begin to build in her cunt. She continued to grind her clit against Dick-Dick; he knew what was coming, and grabbed her buttocks to help her along.

This time all her fuck-talk came pouring out. “Fuck fuck fuck Jesus motherfucking fuck yesss!” she screeched, as her cunt spasmed again. Dick-Dick felt it too, felt her cervix dipping in and out of his spent cum, felt her cunt muscles pulsating and squeezing his soft cock. Cum squeezed out of her fuck-lips, forming a squidgy puddle around the base of his cock, dripping slowly onto his balls. Their crotches smooched in slimy tender wetness.

“Day after tomorrow, first thing,” said Cunts, her equilibrium regained.

Dick-Dick nodded grimly. “Guests? Party? Orgy? Gangbang? Final Fuck?” he prompted.

“No. I’ve had plenty of those in my time, Dick. It’ll be just you and me. Nice and quiet. And Gaz and Riley will be there of course.”

“Oh good.” Dick-Dick tried to sound pleased. “Nice and… intimate.”

“Sometimes intimate is good, Dick. Just don’t read too much into it.”

Dick-Dick thought.

“E. J.?” he ventured.

“Hmmm?”

“Do you think there’s anything afterward? I mean… do you think we’ll ever meet again?”

Cunts paused. Dick-Dick waited, wondering, hoping.

“No, Dick. There’s nothing afterward. And no, Dick, never.”

Dick-Dick nodded, pensively. And his lips trembled.

ACT FIVE, SCENE THREE

“the day after tomorrow, first thing”

It was an otherwise unremarkable Monday morning, when a small delegation from the Royal Academy of Fucking pulled up in a black cab outside the Princess Asshole Hospice on Oxfuck Street, just opposite Marble Arse. Professor Emma Jane Cuntslicker, Director of the RAF, was first to disembark, striding with unalloyed purpose across the broad pavement towards the front door. In her wake followed Dr Riley Throstlethwaite-Eccles, Professor of Prolapse, who appeared nervous, and Dr Richard Dick, Deputy Director, ashen-faced and trembling. On the steps stood waiting for them Riley’s husband Garibaldi Eccles, Head Fucker at Princess Asshole, his face solemnly professional.

As Cunts approached the front door of the Hospice, someone else was on his way out. They bumped into each other, and a flash of recognition passed between them.

“Father Ambrose.” Cunts nodded solemnly.

“Professor,” Ambrose responded softly. “I wasn’t sure when you would be coming here. I was just conducting the Last Rites for one of my parishioners.”

“Well, there is no point in delaying the inevitable, is there, Father?”

The priest shook his head ambiguously. “Defining ‘the inevitable’ is a difficult thing, Professor. But may I pray for you?”

Cunts gave a sharp sigh, half of derision and half of genuine gratitude. “You may do as you see fit, Father. But I won’t hang around for it if that’s all right with you. I have business to complete.”

Father Ambrose nodded. “In which case, Professor, I wish you every blessing.” He bowed – and turned away before anyone could notice the tear in his eye.

“Spare some change, Father?” croaked a tramp who was lying on the Hospice steps having his cock sucked by a particularly grubby-looking bag lady, her hair matted, reeking of tobacco and semen.

“God bless you, Danny,” smiled Ambrose, as he pressed a hundred-euro coin into the tramp’s wrinkled hand.

“Aw, ta, Father,” Danny called after Ambrose’s retreating footsteps. “Good man, Father A., inn’e eh, Jodie?” Danny opined to his companion, who was now starting to jerk his cock rapidly with her grimy hand. “‘Oi, don’ I get a bit more of a blow?”

“Nah, ya taste like shit, Danny,” grimaced Jodie. “Get yourself a bath, and I might suck you off nex’ time.”

“What about a titjob, then, eh?” Danny replied hopefully.

“Yeah, all right then, go on,” replied Jodie, hoisting a pair of large drooping dugs out of her dress and wrapping them around Danny’s cock.

“Oh yeah, love yer tits, bitch, that’s good, yeah!” grinned Danny, as his small but stiff dick disappeared between the copious folds of Jodie’s breasts. “Gotta love the Enlightenment, eh?” he called out to Emma Jane and her party as they entered the building. The automatic doors slid shut behind them, just as Danny’s cock began to spasm, and a few small spurts of cum shot upwards, splashing onto Jodie’s chin.

It did not take long for Emma Jane to sign the requisite paperwork, and for Riley and Dick-Dick to affix their own signatures to witness the fact that Cunts was here “of her own free will, and in accordance with the norms and laws of the Enlightenment”. Emma Jane’s draught had already been prepared; all Gary had to do was to remove it from the refrigerator and break the seal in the presence of the witnesses, to prove that it had not been tampered with.

Cunts’ Final Chamber was a large hall, originally designed to be suitable, of course, for orgies and gangbangs, not to mention guests and other spectators; the single solitary couch at its centre this morning looked somewhat forlorn under the circumstances. But Emma Jane, having wordlessly downed her draught, lay down and, with little more than a smile and a nod to her colleagues, closed her eyes. Dick-Dick sat on a small chair by her bedside, gazing at her face intently, as if determined not to miss a single second of his beloved’s remaining few minutes of life. Riley and Gary stood some distance away behind, holding hands, and waiting.

EPILOGUE

fifty-one years later:
12th December 2111

“… and so Richard Dick sat by Emma Jane Cuntslicker’s bedside, holding her hand until it went cold and stiff. And Riley and Gaz stayed standing quietly in the corner, tears running down their faces.

“Dick-Dick lived another ten years, until his own culling in 2070. He took over as Principal of the Royal Academy of Fucking, and indeed became known as one of its finest. But his heart was not really in it anymore. The Enlightenment was on the decline: that great social experiment, which had seemed so full of promise and excitement fifty years earlier, was showing its cracks – and the biggest of these was: love. I think somehow Dick-Dick sensed that, in his love for Emma Jane, he had encountered something which all the fucking in the world could not compensate for. Unrequited love is always difficult – but love which is not even acknowledged as existing is even more painful. And so Dick-Dick went to his death not so much in sadness, but in dread, that not only would he never see his beloved Cunts again, but that he would never again be able to rejoice in her memory.

“My dear, I have told you all these things, now on your eighteenth birthday, so you will know your history, and learn from it. Your Grandad Rob never stopped loving me, from the moment he first met me on the train down from Cunthorpe sixty-one years ago, until his death last year.

“Strive for what lasts, my love. Oh yes, fuck loads. But love more. And love longer. Because love is not measured by its intensity, but by its durability. The longer you love, the more you will see that that love is even bigger than you imagined, that what you feel is just a tiny corner of something that stretches beyond your vision, beyond your thoughts, beyond your feelings, until it no longer belongs to you. The time will come when your body, like mine, will get old and decrepit and incapable and full of pain – but if you have spent your life striving for those things that lie hidden within, underneath, beyond, well, then you will be content to live long, and those who love you will be content to see you live long.

“You see, my dear, love isn’t a feeling; it’s a choice. It’s the choice to deny yourself the pleasure which you think you deserve, in favour of the respect which deep down you suspect others may be more worthy of than you. It’s the choice to put someone else first. Easier said than done – but every now and then someone will come along for whom it is worth making that sacrifice. If you can love like that, then you will recognise the one you love as a treasure hidden in a field, worth selling all you have for – a sign, a shadow of the True Love that is to come. That is the greatest privilege: to look at another person, even occasionally, with the same delight with which the Universe regards each one of us. If that privilege comes to you, my dear, grab it with both hands – and never let go.

“But of course, in the meantime,” giggled the old lady, “fuck loads. Fucking is good.”

And her granddaughter, licking cunt-juice off her fingers, giggled too.

THE END