Mealtimes were a spectacle of degradation. The Servants were not allowed to eat from plates. They were made to kneel on the floor while their masters ate. When the meal was finished, the leftovers—vegetable peels, bones, and gristle—were thrown onto the floor. The Servants had to fight each other like dogs for the scraps, the strongest getting the most, the weakest left with nothing. This was encouraged by their masters, who would place bets on which Servant would emerge with the largest morsel.
The most brutal aspect of their existence was the “Penance.” Every evening, any Servant who had made a mistake—spilled water, looked a master in the eye, or spoken out of turn—was subjected to public Penance. They were tied to a post in the center of the compound, and the other Servants were forced to administer the punishment. They had to beat their comrade with bamboo canes until her skin was raw and bleeding. If they refused to strike hard enough, they would receive the same punishment, doubled. This system turned victim against victim, poisoning any possibility of solidarity and ensuring their complete psychological isolation.
**Category “B” – The Broodmares**
The Broodmares were the “prime stock”—young, healthy, and deemed to have the best genetics for repopulating the land. Their treatment was a grotesque parody of the Hindu “Breeding for Dharma” program.
They were housed in what were once luxury fertility clinics, now called “Reproductive Centers.” Their bodies were no longer their own. They were pumped full of hormones to force them into a state of constant, painful ovulation. Their diets were meticulously managed to maximize their fertility. They were not allowed to walk; to prevent any “unintended damage to the womb,” they were kept on all fours, their movements restricted to crawling.
The “breeding” process was a clinical, assembly-line horror. Three times a week, they were strapped to a gynecological chair, their legs spread wide in a sterile white room. A series of men—high-ranking officers, Arab financiers, or hand-picked studs from the Vengeance Brigades—would line up. The Broodmare was inseminated by one after another, her biometrics monitored on a screen to ensure optimal conception. There was no intimacy, no violence, just a cold, mechanical process of being repeatedly, systematically raped.
Pregnancy was not a time of rest. It was a time of intensified control. The Broodmare’s belly was regularly branded with the name of the father of her child. She was forced to watch propaganda videos 24/7, extolling the glory of the new Islamic state and the honor of being a vessel for its future. As soon as she gave birth, the child was taken away. If it was a boy, he was sent to a military academy. If it was a girl, she was sent to a Classification Center, to begin the cycle anew. The mother was given only two weeks to recover before being strapped back into the chair. Her body was a factory, and her value was measured in live births per year.
**Category “P” – The Public**