Shaping Men, One Cut at a Time
Cut to Control is set in a future where society is run by women, and men’s bodies are controlled through something called the Circumcision Grading System. The story follows Aaron Matthews as he goes through the Dominion Trials, a public event where he’s tested and transformed. Dominique, a powerful woman from his past, oversees these trials. The story explores their intense relationship and the power dynamics at play.
As Aaron’s journey unfolds, we see hints of a rebellion brewing among men who want to break free from this system. The book looks at themes of pleasure, control, and submission in a way that’s both dark and erotic. It asks readers to think about the balance of power in this imagined future. Ultimately, the story is about Aaron’s struggle between fighting back and giving in, all told in a very human and relatable way.
Excerpt from Cut to Control © Copyright 2024 Sasha Kane
The Dominion Trials
Arrival at the Trials Arena
The journey to the Trials Arena was both a march of inevitability and a slow descent into despair. Aaron walked in line with the other young men, their bare feet slapping against the cold concrete as they were funneled through narrow, dimly lit corridors. The air was heavy with the scent of antiseptic and the faint, lingering traces of something metallic—perhaps blood, or perhaps just the fear that hung thick in the atmosphere.
The men were herded forward, their pace dictated by the stern-faced overseers who flanked them, every movement observed and noted. Aaron could feel the weight of eyes on him—eyes that belonged to the women who lined the upper balconies, watching with a mixture of curiosity and sadistic anticipation. The women’s whispers and muffled laughter echoed through the halls, a constant reminder of their power and the men’s impending degradation.
When they finally emerged into the vast, intimidating expanse of the Trials Arena, the full scope of their situation became horrifyingly clear. The Arena was a coliseum of concrete and steel, an oppressive structure designed to strip away any remaining sense of autonomy. High, tiered seating surrounded a central platform where the men were to be paraded like cattle, their naked bodies exposed to the scrutiny of the women above.
The men were directed to a preparation area, a sterile, featureless room that offered no comfort, no privacy. Here, under the harsh, clinical lighting, they were given their final command.
“Strip.”
The word was a commandment, not a request, and it was met with a collective shudder. Aaron hesitated, his hands trembling at his sides, but the overseers left no room for resistance.
“Thumbs inside your waistbands,” barked one of the overseers, her voice mechanical, devoid of any trace of humanity. “Pull them down to your ankles. Now.”
Aaron’s breath hitched in his throat as his thumbs slid beneath the elastic of his snug white briefs. The fabric, once a final, fragile barrier between him and the cold air, clung to his skin as if in protest. The room was silent except for the rustling of fabric, as each man followed the same degrading ritual.
“Lower,” the overseer ordered. “All the way down.”
With a reluctant tug, Aaron’s briefs slipped down his thighs, exposing him fully to the unforgiving air and the relentless gaze of the overseers. The cold stone floor met his feet as the briefs pooled around his ankles in a limp, pathetic heap.
“Step out. Left foot first.”
Aaron followed the instructions, his movements stiff with humiliation. As he lifted his left foot and then his right, he felt an overwhelming awareness of his nakedness. His manhood swung awkwardly as he moved, and he could practically feel the eyes of the female guards on him, assessing, judging, taking in every inch of his exposed flesh.
Once freed from the briefs, the men stood in a row, completely nude, their dignity stripped away along with their clothing. Aaron’s heart raced as the overseer continued her inspection, her gaze lingering on each man, taking in the sight of their bodies with cold detachment.
“Bend at the waist. Collect your briefs.”
Aaron hesitated, the words taking a moment to register. Then, with a deep breath, he bent down, his knees slightly bent as he reached for the discarded garment. As he did, he felt the undeniable weight of his balls shift, swinging between his thighs as he bent lower. The movement was instinctive, but the effect was immediate—a sense of deep, unsettling shame as he realized how exposed and vulnerable he truly was.
Behind him, a snicker—a soft, cruel sound—cut through the silence. Aaron’s face burned with embarrassment, his cheeks flaming as he realized the guards were watching, amused by the sight of his most private parts swaying between his legs.
“Hurry up,” the overseer’s voice snapped, pulling Aaron back to the task at hand.
He quickly grabbed the briefs and stood, trying to ignore the continued snickers and whispered comments from the guards. His hands trembled as he clutched the crumpled fabric, desperate to be done with this part of the ordeal.
“Dispose of them.”
Aaron’s feet moved almost of their own accord as he stepped toward the metal bin, which waited like a final judgment. He dropped the briefs inside, the soft thud as they landed echoing through the room. It felt like more than just discarding a piece of clothing—it was the final act of relinquishing his last shred of dignity.
“Back in line. Hands at your sides.”
Aaron complied, his body numb with humiliation. The overseer’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she moved on to the next man, her eyes cold and calculating. He could still feel the burning stares of the guards, their amusement at his shame a heavy weight on his shoulders.
“Remember,” the overseer’s voice cut through the air, “you are nothing more than what we allow you to be. Your worth is not your own—it belongs to us.”
Aaron’s heart sank as he realized that this was just the beginning. The Trials had stripped them bare, both physically and mentally, and now they would be tested in ways that would push them to the brink of their endurance.
