In a regime ruled by women, where male pleasure is a regulated vice and individual love a state-sanctioned crime, obedience is everything.
Scott Halworth never meant to break the law. He only fell in love. With Lucy: brilliant, joyful, and full of hope. For that, the government took him.
Now confined to the Whitmore House Male Education Centre, on Chestnut Tree Lane, he is stripped, restrained, and reshaped. A specimen, a subject, and a lesson. Condemned to be denied, edged, and tongue-trained until his sense of self has been scraped raw beneath the relentless glisten of female approval, Scott struggles to survive in a house of implacable, perfect domination. His suffering is a spectacle.
Presiding over his transformation is Mrs. Whitmore, a curvaceous matron of ruthless devotion and exquisite cruelty. Beside her stands Mary Mason, ready to record every drop of leaked submission, and waiting in the rooms that serve as cells are Katie the brattily playful sadist, and the clinical, precise, and academically relentless Emily. Their orders are not just to punish Scott, but to break him. Their duty is to ensure that his denial becomes worship, and his pleasure becomes the metric of his undoing. Set in a society where male orgasm is state-controlled and feminine dominance is national policy, On Chestnut Tree Lane is a 30,000-word erotic dystopia of psychological submission, institutionalised tease and denial, and cold, exquisite control. Sensual, brutal, and darkly elegant, this is a story of what remains when arousal becomes obedience, and love becomes the greatest betrayal of all. And where the only path to mercy lies in the soft, slick service of the women who ruined you.
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