Coming of Age in a Free Use World

[mortis65]

While inspired by other works, this is my AI Generated work.

Chapter 1: Coming of Age in the Mall​

I step into the bright, bustling mall expecting to find my friend Cindy shopping, the smell of cinnamon rolls and fried food wafting through the air. The hard soles of my new flats click against the cold tile as I make my way to the food court, my stomach rumbling with hunger. But it's not just the promise of a warm meal that makes me nervous; today marks my eighteenth birthday, and in this world, everything has changed for me.

As an unmarried woman that has just come of age, I am now fair game. Any man, whether he's a stranger or someone I've known my whole life, can proposition me, touch me, even take me right here in public if the mood strikes him. The thought sends a chill down my spine, a mixture of fear and something else I'm not ready to admit.

I grab a tray and begin loading it with food, trying to act nonchalant as I feel eyes on me from every direction. I can sense their gazes lingering on my curves, the swell of my breasts beneath the lacy neckline of my top, the way my denim shorts hug my hips. My face flushes hot, and I wish I could disappear into the crowd.

"Hey there, birthday girl," a deep voice purrs from behind me. I turn to find a man, maybe in his early thirties, with chiseled features and piercing blue eyes. He leans against the condiment stand, a lazy smile playing on his lips. "Looks like you're all grown up now."

I swallow hard, my hands trembling slightly as I grip the edge of my tray. "Hi," I manage to squeak out. "Just getting some lunch."

He takes a step closer, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. "Lunch sounds good, but I was thinking we could have a little dessert first." His eyes drop to my chest, and he licks his lips.

Before I can respond, another voice joins in. "Hey, she's mine," says a younger man, maybe college-aged, as he saunters up to us. He pushes the older man aside and takes his place, grinning down at me with cocky assurance. "I've been waiting for you to turn eighteen, Sally. I've got plans for that sweet little body of yours."

The two men begin to argue, their voices rising as they jockey for position. Other men in the food court take notice, and soon a small crowd has gathered around us, all vying for my attention.

"Come on, birthday girl," one man calls out. "Why don't you let me show you what it means to be a real woman?"

Another whistles, his eyes roving over me like he's already undressing me in his mind. "Yeah, I bet she's tight as hell. Never been touched before."

My head spins with the onslaught of attention, and for a moment, I consider dropping my tray and running. But then I remember what Mama always told me: that this is just part of growing up, that I need to learn how to handle men if I want to survive in this world.

I take a deep breath and force myself to stand tall, even as the flush of embarrassment spreads down my neck to my chest. "Gentlemen," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "I appreciate the attention, but I need a moment to eat my lunch in peace."

They laugh, but some of them back off slightly, giving me a bit more space. The younger man from before steps forward again, his eyes softening. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he says quietly. "We'll give you your space... for now."

I nod and quickly make my way to an empty table, sitting down and burying my face in my hands. This is the reality of my life now, I realize with a heavy sigh. As an unmarried woman, I am desired by all, available to any man that wants me.

But even as fear and uncertainty swirl inside me, there's a part of me that feels a thrill at the attention. A part of me that wonders what it will be like to give in, to let one of these men show me the pleasures of womanhood.

I take a bite of my burger, chewing slowly as I watch the men in the food court from beneath my lashes. They're all watching me back, waiting for their chance. And though I'm not ready yet, I know that sooner or later, I'll have to make a choice.

In this world, it's not a question of if—I just have to decide when.

 

[mortis65]

Chapter 2: Lessons in Submission​

I watch in stunned silence as the scene unfolds across the food court, my burger halfway to my mouth. A man, middle-aged with a receding hairline, approaches a young woman that can't be more than a few years older than me. She's sitting at a table, her plate piled high with fries and a cheeseburger.

The man doesn't say a word as he reaches out and grabs the hem of her skirt, lifting it up to expose her bare ass. To my shock, she doesn't protest or even seem surprised. Instead, she shifts forward in her seat, raising her hips to give him better access.

Without missing a beat, the man unzips his pants and pulls out his cock, already hard and throbbing. He positions himself behind her and, with one smooth thrust, slides into her from behind. She lets out a small moan, but otherwise remains still as he begins to rut into her, grunting with each snap of his hips.

People around us continue eating and chatting as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening. A couple of men pause to watch, their eyes glued to the spectacle, but no one intervenes or even seems fazed by what they're seeing.

The man finishes quickly, letting out a low groan as he empties himself inside her. Then, without so much as a thank you, he steps away from her and presents his still-damp cock to her face. She doesn't hesitate, leaning forward to take him into her mouth and licking him clean with practiced motions.

When she's done, the man tucks himself back into his pants and walks away, leaving her sitting there as if nothing has happened. She wipes her mouth with a napkin and then picks up her burger, taking a bite as if she hasn't just been used like a common whore in front of dozens of people.

I can feel my own body responding to the sight, a strange mix of arousal and disgust swirling inside me. This is what I have to look forward to, I realize with a sinking feeling. In this world, we are nothing more than objects for men's pleasure, expected to submit without question or complaint.

Part of me feels sorry for the woman across from me, used so casually by a man she doesn't even know. But another part of me wonders if maybe there's something empowering about it, about being able to take what you want without consequence or apology.

I look down at my own plate, suddenly not hungry anymore. I know that sooner or later, I'll have to make peace with this reality—whether I like it or not. In the meantime, all I can do is watch and learn from women like her, who've already mastered the art of surviving in a world where our bodies belong to anyone that wants them.

As I sit there, trying to process what I just witnessed.

I feel a presence behind me before I even hear his voice, a sense of anticipation that makes my skin prickle with awareness. "Happy birthday, sweetheart," he murmurs, his breath hot against the back of my neck.

I turn to look at him, taking in his kind eyes and gentle smile. He's middle-aged, but there's something reassuring about his demeanor that puts me slightly at ease. Still, I can't help but feel a flutter of nervousness as he steps closer, his hand coming to rest on the curve of my hip.

Without a word, he slides a finger beneath the hem of my skirt, lifting it up just enough to expose the pink cotton of my panties. I freeze, unsure whether to protest or submit. Before I can decide, he's already slipping his hand underneath, his fingers brushing against the soft folds of my pussy.

"Relax," he murmurs, his touch light and soothing as he begins to explore me. "I'll be gentle, I promise."

And for a moment, I almost believe him. He takes his time, easing me open with careful strokes that send tingles of pleasure through my body. When he finally slides inside me, stretching me around the thick length of his cock, it's not nearly as painful as I feared it would be.

He pauses once he's fully sheathed, looking down at me with concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice soft and tender.

I nod, trying to focus on the sensation rather than my racing thoughts. It feels strange—foreign—to have him inside me like this, but not entirely unpleasant. I take a deep breath and meet his gaze, my voice steady as I give him permission. "You can... you can fuck me now."

He starts slowly, withdrawing almost all the way before sliding back in with a low groan. Each thrust sends a jolt of sensation through me, pleasure mingling with discomfort as my body adjusts to the intrusion. But gradually, I begin to relax into it, learning to move with him rather than against him.

To my surprise, I feel a stirring of arousal deep within me, and before long, I'm close to orgasm. "Wait," I pant out, gripping his shoulders to hold him still. "Let me... let me come first."

He nods, his expression patient as he waits for me to find my release. And when it hits me—a wave of intense pleasure that leaves me trembling and gasping—he resumes his steady rhythm, driving into me with deeper strokes until I feel him stiffen inside me.

With a low groan, he empties himself into my pussy, filling me with the warm rush of his cum. He stays there for a moment longer, catching his breath before pulling out and turning to face me fully.

But instead of finishing, he surprises me with another request. "Do you want oral or anal next?" His tone is matter-of-fact, as if he's asking me what I'd like on my burger.

I blink up at him, stunned into silence by the question. Part of me wants to say no, to tell him I've had enough for one day. But there's another part—a darker, more curious part—that wonders what it would feel like to be taken in other ways.

At a loss for words, I simply shrug. "Please be nice to my ass." He nods and positions himself behind me once more, but this time, he reaches for my ass instead of my pussy. Before I can protest about needing lube, he's sliding his cock between my cheeks, the head pressing insistently against my virgin asshole.

I tense up at first, unprepared for the intense pressure and stretching sensation as he slowly works his way inside me. It hurts more than I expected—sharp, burning pain that leaves me biting my lip to keep from crying out. But he's patient, letting me adjust to his size before beginning to move again.

When he starts to fuck me in earnest, it's almost too much to bear. Each thrust sends shockwaves of sensation through my body, pleasure and pain intertwined until I can hardly tell them apart. Tears spring to my eyes as he hammers into me, the sounds of our skin slapping together echoing obscenely in the air around us.

And yet... even as I struggle not to break down completely, I feel a strange sense of satisfaction at being used like this, taken so thoroughly that there's no part of me left untouched. It's a dark thrill, one that leaves me feeling simultaneously violated and powerful in my submission.

When he finally comes again—his cock pulsing deep inside my asshole as he fills me with another load—I'm almost relieved to see him pull away. He thanks me for my "service" before tucking himself back into his pants and walking off, leaving me sitting there on the edge of the table, cum dripping from both holes.

I can feel it trickling down my thighs, a visceral reminder of what just happened. And as I sit there trying to catch my breath and process everything, I realize that this is only the beginning—for better or worse, I've now entered into a new phase of my life where my body belongs to anyone that wants it.

The thought should terrify me, but instead, it leaves me feeling strangely empty—already looking forward to the next time someone claims me as their own.