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.

 

[mortis65]

Chapter 3: The Train & The Housewife's Lesson​

I'm running on pure adrenaline by the time I make it to the train station but I never found Cindy. My body exhausted and sore from the afternoon's events. The thought of standing for the entire ride home is almost too much to bear, but the train is packed, with no seats available.

As I cling to a pole for balance, trying to keep my feet under me as the train lurches forward, I'm acutely aware of the mess between my legs—the cum from multiple men dripping steadily down my thighs and onto the floor. The taste of it is still in my throat, a constant reminder of how thoroughly used I've been.

Just when I think I can't take any more, a man approaches me with an offer that both repulses and intrigues. He's middle-aged, well-dressed, with a kind of quiet confidence about him. And he's not alone—his wife is there too, a beautiful woman that looks like she belongs on the cover of a lifestyle magazine.

"Please," he says, gesturing to the seat he's just vacated. "Take a load off. You must be exhausted after your big day."

I start to protest, but then he gives me the catch: his wife will only give up her seat if I agree to let her clean me up—literally. She'll eat the cum from my mouth, my pussy, and even my ass before returning to her spot as if nothing ever happened.

In any other circumstance, I would have refused outright. But right now, standing here on this crowded train with every muscle in my body aching for rest... I find myself nodding before I can really think it through.

The woman doesn't waste any time. Without even introducing herself, she pulls me down onto the seat beside her and leans in close, pressing her lips against mine in a deep, thorough kiss. Her tongue is insistent as it probes my mouth, seeking out every trace of cum that lingers on my teeth and gums.

When she's done with my mouth, she moves between my legs, pulling up my skirt and settling herself comfortably to work. She doesn't hesitate for a moment before burying her face in my pussy, her tongue delving deep to lap at the mess inside me. Her technique is practiced—almost clinical—and yet it still sends shivers of sensation through me despite my exhaustion.

Finally, she turns her attention to my ass, pulling me over her lap so that she can reach. The first touch of her tongue against such an intimate part of me makes me jump, but then she's working methodically, cleaning every inch of me until I'm spotless once more.

When she's done, she sits back and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Then, without missing a beat, she turns to her husband and takes his cock in her own mouth, sucking him dry with the same efficiency she showed while cleaning me up.

He watches her for a moment before nodding approvingly, zipping up his pants and offering her a small smile. "Thank you, darling," he says, as if she's just performed a simple favor rather than eaten out a stranger on a crowded train.

She returns the smile, touching up her lipstick and smoothing down her skirt as if nothing unusual has happened at all. Then she settles back into her seat beside him, resuming the role of perfect housewife as if being an active participant in my debasement was just another item on her to-do list for the day.

I sit there, trying to process what just occurred. Part of me is disgusted by how easily I gave myself over to yet another stranger's demands—but another part feels a twisted sense of gratitude that she was at least thorough and professional about it all.

As the train continues its journey home, I can't help but wonder if this will become my new normal—being used and discarded so casually that even the most mundane interactions become opportunities for degradation. It's a bleak thought—but after today, I'm not sure how much of a choice I really have anymore.

---

The next morning I wake and drag myself out of bed feeling sore in places I didn't even know could ache. My asshole throbs with a dull pain that reminds me of how many times it was used yesterday. The men at the mall, on the train... it's all starting to blur together.

I make my way to the kitchen where my mom is already up, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper. She looks up as I enter, her eyes taking in my tired state.

"Rough night, huh?" she asks with a knowing smile.

I nod, lowering myself into a chair with a wince. "You have no idea. My ass... it just got used over and over again."

Mom sets down her coffee cup and leans forward, her expression turning serious. "Honey, I know this is hard for you. It's not easy being out there in the world like that—available to any man that wants you."

She pauses for a moment before continuing. "But it gets easier with time. You learn how to manage it, how to take care of yourself." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small bottle of lube. "For example, always keep one of these on hand. You'll need to refresh yourself throughout the day, especially if you're being used frequently."

I take the bottle from her, turning it over in my hands as I try to process what she's saying. It feels surreal—like something out of a twisted fairy tale where mothers give their daughters lube instead of advice about true love and white knights.

Mom sees the confusion on my face and reaches out to pat my hand reassuringly. "I know this isn't the life you imagined for yourself, sweetie. But it's our reality now. And we have to find ways to make it work."

She leans back in her chair, a far-off look in her eyes as she recalls her own experiences. "Take your father, for instance," she says softly. "The first time he used me... well, let's just say I knew right away that he was special. His cock fit perfectly inside my ass—like it was made just for me."

Her cheeks flush slightly at the memory. "Afterward, when he asked me out to dinner, I could feel his cum dripping down my legs. But all I could think about was how much I wanted to see him again—how right he felt, even if we'd only just met."

I listen as she recounts the story of their courtship—the stolen moments in alleyways and back rooms, the secret trysts that eventually led to their marriage. It's not the romantic tale I grew up hearing—but maybe it's a more honest one.

Mom looks at me then, her eyes soft with understanding. "It may not seem like it now, but there is beauty in this life—beauty and passion. You just have to find it for yourself."

I nod slowly, still unsure if I can see things the way she does. But holding that little bottle of lube in my hand, I know one thing for certain: I'm going to try. Because what other choice do I have? In this world, my ass belongs to every man that wants it—and learning how to embrace that might just be the key to survival.

As I get up from the table—more careful now about how I move—I give mom a small smile over my shoulder. "Thanks," I say simply. And though it's not much, it's enough for today.

 

[mortis65]

Chapter 4: School & The Ruined Holes​

This morning started like any other, or so I thought as I rushed to get ready for school. In my haste, I forgot one crucial step—lubing up. Mom noticed right away.

"Sally," she said sternly, "you didn't lube your ass again, did you?"

I stood frozen, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks as I shook my head in shame. She tutted disapprovingly and grabbed me by the waist, lifting my skirt and yanking down my panties before I could protest.

"Get over the chair," she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument. "If you can't take care of yourself, I'll have to do it for you."

Humiliated but knowing better than to resist, I bent over the chair as instructed. The cool air against my bare skin made me shiver, and I could feel the tight ring of muscle at my back entrance—still sore from yesterday's activities.

Mom's fingers found their mark without hesitation, probing and stretching me open with practiced ease. She'd done this for me before when I first came of age, but it never got easier. The burn of the lube as she worked it in deep was almost too much to bear—but her hands were gentle despite everything else.

"There," she said finally, pulling away and leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. "Now you're ready."

She tossed my panties into the laundry basket without another word—another reminder that they wouldn't be needed today. Not when any man could use me as they pleased.

I made my way to school in a daze, barely noticing anything around me until I reached campus. That's when it hit me—the sights and sounds of this world we lived in.

The cheerleaders were out on the field, practicing their routines in their tiny skirts that left nothing to the imagination. But now I noticed something else—they weren't wearing panties either. Of course they weren't; how could they perform with constant interruptions otherwise?

Then there was my women's studies professor—Dr. Miller—who had made a habit of being used by her own students during lunch breaks in the cafeteria. A long line of boys waited their turn behind her as she leaned over a table, her ass stretched wide and gaping from continuous use.

I'd seen it before but never really paid attention until now—the way her hole remained open between students, ruined beyond repair. It was shocking yet oddly inspiring to see a woman in such a powerful position still embrace the role society had assigned us all.

I managed to make it to my locker without incident—a small miracle by anyone's standards—but not before catching sight of Cindy, my best friend from across the hall. She was bent over a desk, getting fucked by what seemed like an endless line of students—though at least this time they were using her pussy instead of her ass.

It was a stark reminder that no matter who you were or how many friends you had, none of it mattered when every man had the right to use your body as they saw fit. We all shared this experience now—this twisted sense of normalcy in which our pleasure paled in comparison to their entitlement.

Still... there was something strangely comforting about seeing others like me navigating these same challenges day after day. It made me feel less alone somehow—even if the path ahead remained uncertain at best.

---

I sat in the back of the classroom for Women's Studies, my eyes fixed on Dr. Miller as she stood at the front lecturing. She was an enigma to me—someone that had clearly found a way to navigate this twisted world with grace and even power. As I watched her lean over the lectern, presenting her ass to every boy in class that wanted a turn, I couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and bewilderment.

Despite the constant line of men waiting their turn to sodomize her, Dr. Miller continued her lecture as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening—her voice steady and knowledgeable. Part of me wondered how she managed to block it all out; another part marveled at her ability to function so effortlessly in an environment that would leave most women broken.

One by one, each boy stepped up, taking their turn with Dr. Miller's ass without missing a beat. She never flinched or showed any sign of discomfort—instead maintaining eye contact with the class and occasionally gesturing towards key points on her slides as if this was just another day in academia.

By the time the bell rang signaling the end of class, at least thirty boys had gone through their paces—and yet there were still more waiting in line. Dr. Miller acknowledged them briefly before dismissing everyone else: "Those of you that didn't get a chance today will need to sign up for office hours if you want one-on-one time," she said matter-of-factly, as if discussing extra credit rather than sexual favors.

As the remaining students filed out of the room, I found myself glued to my seat—too fascinated by what came next to move. Dr. Miller walked over to her desk with the same poise and confidence she'd shown throughout class, then proceeded to squat over a bucket placed strategically on the floor beneath her.

Without missing a beat (or showing any sign of embarrassment), she pushed out cum from all thirty boys that had used her just moments earlier—an act that would have left anyone else feeling degraded but somehow seemed empowering when done so boldly. Once finished, she stood up straight and faced the remaining students before doing something that left me utterly speechless: picking up the bucket filled with semen and drinking every last drop.

I watched in silence as she licked her lips after swallowing it all—her expression one of satisfaction rather than disgust. Then, just like that, she touched up her makeup and pulled down her pencil skirt as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all.

Dr. Miller's boldness left my stomach roiling with a mix of emotions: admiration for how she'd managed to reclaim power in such an oppressive system; curiosity about whether or not I could ever become strong enough myself one day; and perhaps most surprisingly, desire to learn more from someone that seemed so unshakable despite everything this world threw at her.

As I gathered my things to leave, I couldn't help but feel inspired by Dr. Miller's example—even if the path ahead looked daunting. Maybe there was a way for me too become a force like her someday—one that could navigate these waters with grace and even use them to get what she wanted out of life.

But first, I knew I had some serious thinking (and studying) to do—and perhaps more than a few office hours scheduled with an incredible woman that defied all odds simply by being herself.

---

I sat nervously outside Dr. Miller's office, my stomach churning with anticipation. I had scheduled this meeting in the hope that she could teach me how to maintain dignity and composure in a world where every man felt entitled to use my body as he pleased.

When called in, I found Dr. Miller sitting behind her desk—composed and professional as always. "Sally," she greeted warmly before gesturing for me to take a seat across from her. Once settled, I dove straight into the reason why I was there.

"Dr. Miller, I've been watching you—and I don't mean that in some creepy way—but I admire how you manage to stay so put together even when... well, even when men are using you," I said hesitantly. The words felt crude coming out of my mouth, but she simply nodded with understanding.

"It took time and practice," Dr. Miller admitted before leaning back slightly. "But first let me ask you this: have you ever had a positive experience with anal sex?"

I shook my head immediately—the answer was no, and I suspected it wasn't just because I hadn't explored that part of myself yet; there was something about the act itself in our context which made it inherently degrading.

"Neither have I," Dr. Miller continued. "In fact, once word got out among students here that I didn't enjoy anal sex—that I found it uncomfortable and painful—they started using my ass exclusively as a way to assert their power over me."

I blinked at her revelation—partially surprised by how openly she was discussing this with me but also fascinated by what came next. "So you're saying they use your asshole because you don't enjoy it?"

"Exactly," Dr. Miller confirmed, then stood up and walked around the desk towards me. She stopped beside my chair and lifted her skirt to reveal an asshole that looked permanently stretched open from constant abuse.

"This is what happens when women don't play along," she explained as she used one finger to probe inside herself—pushing out a small amount of cum left behind by her last student. "We get used regardless—but if we make it clear this isn't something we want, men take that lack of consent and use it against us."

As I watched Dr. Miller clean herself out so casually, my stomach churned with conflicting emotions: disgust at the situation itself; admiration for how she handled it; and a burning desire to learn from her example.

Without thinking twice about what I was doing (or maybe because deep down I knew this was necessary). “Let me help you clean up," I offered softly, finally understanding what she meant by taking back a piece of their power.

Dr. Miller looked surprised by my offer but quickly recovered with a nod of acceptance. She lifted her skirt and positioned herself between my knees, bending over slightly to present her ass directly in front of me.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I leaned forward and pressed my face against Dr. Miller's asshole—feeling the warmth radiating from it against my skin. The taste was bitter at first but that didn't stop me as I began lapping up everything left behind by nameless students that had used her without care or respect.

As I worked my tongue deeper inside her, I could feel every bit of cum being sucked out—removing not just physical remains but also symbolically taking away some small piece of their power over Dr. Miller in the process. She remained still and composed throughout; occasionally running her fingers through my hair as if comforting both me and herself simultaneously.

When finished, I pulled back slightly to look at work I had done—and more importantly—to see the expression on Dr. Miller's face. There was gratitude there but also something else: pride in having shown me how one can reclaim even a tiny bit of agency within such an oppressive system.

"Thank you," she said softly after what felt like ages before straightening herself up and smoothing out her skirt as if nothing out of ordinary had happened during our office hours today. "Remember this, Sally—there are ways to survive in this world without losing yourself completely."

Her words echoed in my mind long after I left her office that day: a mix of advice and warning which would guide me through many difficult situations yet to come.

 

[mortis65]

Chapter 5: The Sisterhood System​

I walked beside Cindy on our usual route home from school, the warm afternoon sun casting long shadows across the path ahead of us. We were deep in conversation about a recent project when two boys suddenly appeared from behind a tree—blocking our way forward.

"Hey girls," one of them greeted casually while his eyes roamed over both of our bodies. I recognized them as upperclassmen that often hung around this area waiting for an opportunity like this.

Without skipping a beat, Cindy and I exchanged brief glances before nodding in agreement: we knew what was expected of us. There wasn't really any point in resisting or trying to reason with these boys—it would only end badly if we did.

So without a word spoken between us, we moved to the grassy patch next to the path and laid down side by side. I could feel my heart racing as I lifted up my skirt to expose my smooth pussy—making sure it was easily accessible for them while still maintaining eye contact with Cindy.

As the boys positioned themselves above each of us, I felt a mix of shame and arousal building inside me: on one hand this was degrading beyond belief; on the other there was something thrilling about giving myself over so completely like this.

But then Cindy leaned in close to kiss me deeply—her tongue exploring every corner of my mouth as if nothing else mattered—and suddenly all thoughts vanished except for what was happening right here and now.

The boy above me entered without preamble but, surprisingly, he didn't focus solely on his own pleasure. Instead, he followed our lead: driven by a desire to make us cum before seeking his own release.

With Cindy still kissing me passionately between breaths, I reached down to touch myself while the boy continued pounding into my pussy. Every time either of us got close we'd encourage them to switch—making sure neither girl was left out when it came to building tension.

It wasn't long before both boys were fully invested in bringing us pleasure: one kept switching between Cindy and me; teasing our clits with his fingers whenever he pulled out only to push back inside once more just as we started losing ourselves completely.

The combination of physical sensations alongside emotional connection through kissing was unlike anything I had ever experienced during such encounters before. For a brief moment in time, control shifted away from those that usually held all power over us; allowing Cindy and me some small taste of agency within an otherwise oppressive situation.

When finally both girls reached climax together—locked lips amidst waves upon waves of pure ecstasy—it felt like more than just sex: it was an act defying expectations placed upon women in this society. And though reality would inevitably set back once again, for now there existed space where we could take ownership of our own stories; if only temporarily.

As the boys finished up and left us alone by the path again, I looked over at Cindy with a sense of newfound understanding between us—no words needed. We had taken something meant to degrade and instead used it as an opportunity to connect on deeper levels while also challenging norms imposed upon female sexuality in this world.

 

[mortis65]

Chapter 6: Domination​

Cindy and I were both breathing heavily, our bodies slick with sweat as we lay on the bed facing each other. This game had been going on for hours now - a battle of wills to see who would submit first.

"I bet you can't even last another ten minutes," Cindy taunted, her hand sliding down my body and into my already soaked panties. She began rubbing slow circles around my clit, applying just enough pressure to drive me crazy but not enough to push me over the edge.

" Says the girl who's trembling with every touch," I shot back, retaliating by biting down on her shoulder hard enough to leave a mark before trailing kisses up her neck.

We had both been pushing each other's limits all day - alternating between physical and psychological pressure in an effort to make one of us crack first. But neither of us was willing to give up that easily.

Cindy rolled on top of me, pinning my arms above my head as she ground herself against me. "You want this so badly don't you?" She whispered into my ear before licking the lobe provocatively. "Just admit it - you want me to dominate you completely."

"Not a chance," I growled through gritted teeth even though every fiber of my being was screaming for release.

Hours turned into minutes which blurred together until finally...

"Oh fuck!" I cried out as Cindy found that one spot inside me and massaged it relentlessly, breaking down all resistance. As wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me, I realized with a jolt that this meant submitting to her for the rest of the weekend.

But strangely enough...the thought didn't scare me anymore.

Cindy grinned triumphantly as she watched my body shudder through aftershocks. "Looks like someone's going to be my little pet for the next few days," she purred, pulling a silk blindfold and some ropes out from beside the bed.

Though I knew this was only the beginning of what promised to be an intense (and probably very painful) weekend...there was no denying the trust between us. We had tested boundaries before but never quite like this - giving control completely over to another person while embracing one's deepest vulnerabilities at the same time.

As Cindy began tying me up, all I could do was wonder just how far she would push those limits by Monday morning...

The rest of that night passed in a blur of sensations: sharp stings from a riding crop across my backside interspersed with soothing touches; periods of intense restraint followed by moments where movement felt unrestricted once again.

Every time I neared another orgasm, Cindy somehow knew exactly what to do to pull me back - leaving me simultaneously frustrated and craving more. She had complete control over when (or if) I would ever achieve release.

It wasn't until Sunday evening that she finally allowed me the blissful reprieve of climaxing, untying my ropes and holding me close as tremors wracked through my body. In that moment there was no top or bottom - just two people that had explored new sides to themselves together while growing even closer in the process.

As we lay tangled up under blankets later that night, I looked over at Cindy with a smile tugging on my lips. "Thanks for this weekend," I said softly before adding: "Although next time...I'm definitely going to be the one calling all shots."

 

[mortis65]

Chapter 7: The Brother's Claim & Mother Mary's Devotion​

It was evening at Cindy's house. We'd be hanging out together all day after school, and now the sun was setting.

Cindy had been relentless in her teasing, but now it seemed that her brother had finally had enough. He approached the two of us with a menacing glint in his eyes, positioning me beside Cindy so that my mouth was level with her pussy.

Without warning, he grabbed Cindy roughly by the hips and positioned himself at the entrance to her asshole. She winced as he pushed forward slowly but firmly, clearly trying to cause her pain. Once inside, he began thrusting forcefully—each movement accompanied by a grunt of satisfaction from him and cries of discomfort from her.

"You think you're so special with this tight ass?" He sneered down at Cindy while continuing his assault on her body. "Well let me tell you something—it's nothing compared to the other girls I've had. In fact, it's probably the worst one yet."

His words seemed designed specifically to humiliate her—and from the way she flinched each time he spoke, it was clear they were having their intended effect.

After several long minutes of relentless pounding, he finally pulled out—leaving Cindy looking pale and breathless on the couch. Before either of us could react, however, he had grabbed my head and forced it towards her pussy.

"Since your ass is so useless," he continued, now addressing both of us in a mocking tone, "why don't you at least make yourself useful by cleaning up the mess I just made?"

I hesitated for only a moment before complying; after all, this was exactly what Cindy had wanted—and besides which neither of us were really in position to refuse at this point. As I set about licking her pussy clean—as much from my own arousal as anything else—I could feel Cindy trembling beneath me.

Once satisfied that area was sufficiently cleaned off (and not without enjoying taste/smell myself), he pulled me back and quickly repositioned himself between Cindy's legs once again—this time entering into her pussy instead. If she thought this would be any better than what came before though, she was sorely mistaken...

He began thrusting roughly almost immediately upon insertion, paying no mind whatsoever to her protests or attempts to push him away. Every word out of his mouth seemed designed specifically to cut deep:

"God your pussy is so loose and sloppy...it's like you're just begging to be used this way isn't it? Pathetic."

By now tears were streaming down Cindy's face—though whether they were primarily due physical pain or verbal humiliation was impossible tell. Regardless, her brother showed no signs slowing down until finally after several more minutes he stiffened up and released flood of hot cum directly inside her.

For good measure he pulled out and without any further ceremony re-entered her asshole once again—pounding away furiously while making sure to hit every sensitive spot along way. By this point Cindy was barely conscious, body shaking uncontrollably from mixture pain and involuntary pleasure...

It didn't take long before he climaxed once more—this time filling up her bowels with second load of cum that caused her to cry out loudly despite herself. Only then did he finally pull away completely; leaving both myself and a thoroughly debauched Cindy sprawled out on couch.

Throughout it all I couldn't help feeling mixture admiration for Cindy's ability withstand such intense physical/verbal abuse as well as deep-seated arousal at having been witness to scene that felt more like snuff film than anything else.

As Cindy lay there panting heavily and trying to regain composure, her brother turned towards me with a smirk on his face.

"See? I told you she was just a slut for this kind of treatment," he said gleefully before turning back to Cindy herself once again.

"I hope you learned your lesson about teasing people like that in the future...because next time it'll be even worse."

With that parting shot delivered, he finally walked away—leaving both myself and an utterly broken Cindy alone together once more.

---

After he finished using me in such an extreme way, I could hardly believe what had just happened. My body felt like it was on fire—every nerve ending alive with intense sensation—and yet at same time there was deep sense of shame washing over me as well.

Before leaving his room, he made sure to let me know that if I knew what was good for me, a decent pair of nipple clamps would be brought along next time. The implication being that he intended to continue using me in whatever way pleased him most...and though the thought filled equal parts dread and arousal, there was no denying reality of situation.

After being unceremoniously kicked out of bed, my next task became clear: getting Cindy to clean out asshole since apparently it "stunk" of cum. Even now I can feel face flushing bright red just thinking about having ask her for help like this—but what choice did I have?

Making way towards her room felt almost surreal; each step serving as reminder of everything that had transpired thus far...and yet curiously enough there was also part of me looking forward to seeing Cindy again—not because wanted relive what happened earlier, but rather because knew she'd understand in way nobody else could.

Upon reaching her door I didn't bother knocking—simply pushed it open and walked inside without a word. Without even needing explain situation, Cindy immediately understood moment she saw state I was in: hair disheveled, clothes torn, and most tellingly of all—an intense smell emanating from my asshole that even from across room was impossible miss.

Without saying anything whatsoever, I turned around and positioned myself so that said area was now directly in front of her face. She didn't flinch or pull away; instead simply got up from where had been sitting and moved closer until finally pressing lips against outer rim of hole itself.

First few seconds were almost too intense to bear—the combined roughness of her tongue contrasted by the gentleness of her overall touch served to highlight just how raw/worn down that part of my body was truly was after everything it had been through...but gradually this gave way to overwhelming waves pleasure as she worked tirelessly clean out every last inch impacted area.

Throughout entire ordeal, neither one us spoke single word—no need given circumstances. Instead we simply let actions speak louder than any verbal communication ever could: Cindy showing just how much cared about wellbeing of friend (even after own traumatic experience earlier) through tender care lavished upon me; while simultaneously I was able to find some small measure solace/comfort in allowing her do so without resistance or hesitation.

Eventually though there came point where nothing more could possibly be done—and true to form, Cindy didn't stop until job had been completed thoroughly. Once finished she pulled back slightly and looked up at me with such warmth/compassion in eyes that despite best efforts not let emotions get the better of me, I found myself tearing up uncontrollably...

Without another word spoken between us, now my turn to return favor: turning Cindy around so that she was now facing away from me, I positioned mouth directly above her asshole and began lavishing same level care/attention upon it that just been shown towards me. By this point, any lingering sense of shame or humiliation had long since dissipated—replaced instead by deep bond forged through shared adversity and understanding.

As both of us lay there together afterwards (Cindy's asshole now clean/tender while mine still tingling from earlier attention), I couldn't help but feel a strange mixture gratitude towards him for bringing us closer in such an unconventional way...while simultaneously knowing full well that if ever given chance, would ensure he would had opportunity to use either one of us like that.

 

[mortis65]

Chapter 8 Cindy Suffers​

I was on phone chatting casually with Cindy about random things when suddenly tone changed completely. Her voice turned hesitant as if something unexpected had just happened.

"Uh...Sal? I think you better listen for a moment..." she said hesitantly before letting out sharp gasp followed immediately by loud thud in background - almost sounding like body hitting bed hard and fast.

Before I could even ask what was going on, I heard male voice speaking roughly: "Get that ass up slut. You know what I want."

To my complete shock this sounded exactly like Cindy's brother - same asshole that regularly picked on her for fun! Apparently without saying word to Cindy he had walked right into room and thrown her onto bed without warning.

Without any further prompting from him, she quickly got on hands and knees while thrusting ass up high. I could clearly hear his zipper being pulled down followed by sound of hard cock being slapped against skin a few times before finally...

"AAAAHHH FUCK!!!" Cindy screamed out at top of lungs - causing me to jump slightly away from phone in surprise. It was unmistakably clear he had just shoved entire length inside her ass without any prep whatsoever!

"Oh God...it hurts so muchhh..." she continued sobbing between breaths while also letting out occasional whimpers as he moved his cock in/out roughly. "Please be gentle...I'm not ready for this..."

But of course, begging only seemed to make him more aggressive - each thrust became harder and faster than the last until I could hear slapping sounds being made against her thighs from sheer force.

"You fucking whore...this is what you deserve," he grunted out angrily while continuing abuse. "Your cunt is mine to use however I want!"

Tears streamed down her face as Cindy continued describing every moment in detail - how much pain she felt; how ashamed/humiliated she was having someone do this to her body against her will; even specific sensations associated with being dry-fucked so brutally.

All the while he kept forcing entire length of cock deeper inside rectum without allowing single break or rest. After what seemed like eternity, I heard final scream come from Cindy's lips followed by grunting noises - signaling he had just came inside her ass and was pulling out now-empty cock.

But relief didn't last long: mere moments later I could hear slapping sounds being made against bare skin once again...only this time they were more targeted towards outer parts of pussy and ass cheeks. "I'm not done with you yet bitch..." he snarled before continuing brutal spanking session until finally getting up and leaving room without saying another word.

For several moments afterwards we both remained completely silent on our ends - me still shocked from what had just unfolded while she lay crying softly on bed. Eventually Cindy spoke up again: "I feel so...used. Like object to him rather than person."

Hearing her say this broke my heart instantly; knowing there was nothing I could do except offer comforting words over phone call. But even those felt like they wouldn't be enough after something as horrific and violating as what just happened.

We ended up talking for hours that night: Cindy describing every last detail about how much pain and humiliation she had endured while also processing complex emotions associated with it all; me doing best I could to provide support in whatever small ways possible from distance.

In end, there were no easy answers or solutions - only solidarity found through sharing similar experiences of being forced into situations against our wills by those that should have known better...and unwavering promise that we would always be there for each other no matter what.

---

I stood nervously outside Cindy's house, clutching the small box containing vicious nipple clamps I had purchased earlier that day. My plan was risky - offering myself as a sacrifice to satisfy Cindy's sadistic brother and give her some respite from his brutal attentions.

I smoothed down my tight tube top and mini skirt before knocking on the door. Cindy answered, her eyes widening when she saw what I was wearing (or rather, not wearing underneath).

"Sally? What are you doing here?" she asked hesitantly after inviting me inside.

Before responding, I pulled out box and handed it over - explaining entire plan in detail. Though clearly shocked at first, relief soon washed over her face as she understood what this meant for herself.

Without saying word, Cindy took clamps from box and approached me slowly...positioning each one carefully onto my exposed nipples before tightening screws until they were securely fastened. Instantly I felt searing pain shoot through both breasts - causing me to gasp out loud while also squirming uncomfortably where stood.

"They hurt...a lot," I managed say between clenched teeth as we made our way towards brother's room now.

Upon entering, he looked up from where sat playing video games and sneered at sight before him. "Well well...if it isn't slutty little Sally coming over all dressed up like whore," he taunted while giving once-over with eyes.

But I didn't back down; instead forcing out fake smile as best could under current circumstances. "Hi there! I'm here because...well, I want you to use me tonight. Do whatever you want - abuse me however feels good for you."

For moment he just sat staring at me in disbelief before finally laughing loudly and standing up. First thing done was immediately tighten both nipple clamps even further without warning - causing instant screams of pain from my lips.

"Such a pathetic slut...offering yourself up so easily," he mocked while moving hands over to roughly slap each breast several times. I could only whimper softly in response now as tears streamed down face...

But that wasn't enough for him, clearly: next target became both pussy and ass - which were beaten relentlessly using back of hand until skin turned red and tender to touch. All the while he continued verbal assault too:

"Bet this feels way better than what you do with other girls at school huh? You're nothing but loose fucktoy for guys like me...especially compared Cindy here who can't even defend herself properly!"

Tears continued flowing non-stop now as every inch of body was abused mercilessly - all while knowing this would likely be my fate from now on whenever Cindy's brother felt slightest urge to hurt someone...

Finally after what seemed like hours, he positioned cock at entrance of my already bruised and battered pussy before slamming entire length inside without warning.

"Fucking take it you worthless bitch!" he yelled out angrily as started thrusting hard/fast - making sure to angle each stroke in ways which caused maximum pain rather than pleasure.

I lay there sobbing uncontrollably with every passing second, knowing deep down this was price needed pay so Cindy wouldn't have endure such horrors anymore...though hoping silently it might somehow end soon for both our sakes.

 

[mortis65]

Chapter 9 Sally's Sacrifice​

I sat trembling in Cindy's room, wearing nothing but a tight leather collar around my neck as I waited for her brother to return with whatever costume he had planned next. A few moments later, he entered carrying several pieces of rubber clothing - latex sleeves which covered arms completely along with thick thigh-high boots designed more for crawling than walking upright.

"Here's your new outfit slut...wear this so you can perform like dog I know you are," he sneered while tossing items over to me.

Without arguing back (knowing what consequences could be), I slipped each piece on carefully until entire body was covered - except for key areas left intentionally exposed: breasts, pussy and ass were all put on full display through strategic cutouts within material.

"Good girl...now get on hands and knees," he ordered while examining handiwork. "You will crawl everywhere from here on out until told otherwise."

I did as instructed immediately, feeling how reinforced palms/knees allowed movement without risk of tearing latex during activity. But before allowing leave room though, he pulled out small stun baton - waving it close to face as warning.

"From now you can only communicate by barking like good little puppy...single word spoken and this goes straight to cunt or ass!" he threatened menacingly while giving slight demonstration zap against air to make point clear.

So I remained silent on way over to nearby park where we were headed, focusing instead on trying not look at anyone passing by us as crawled along sidewalk slowly. A few people stopped to stare but thankfully no one intervened - likely thinking this was just some weird kink between partners rather than what truly was...

Once we arrived at the destination (isolated area within park itself), her brother wasted little time getting right into humiliating scenarios: first ordering 'tricks' such as spinning in circles multiple times; followed by jumping over fallen logs or other objects scattered around - all while barking loudly after each completion to signal accomplishment.

But of course, there was always more degrading acts planned beyond physical stunts alone...

"Okay slut...time for you fetch something!" he suddenly declared before throwing random stick several feet away. Without hesitation I began crawling over as fast could manage until finally reaching target - which then required use teeth to pick up/drag back towards him successfully.

However, in excitement of completing task so quickly, one bark turned into two almost accidentally...setting off a chain reaction without warning!

Snapping sound rang out first from stun baton being activated followed by intense buzzing sensation against outer lips - causing my entire body to jerk uncontrollably while also eliciting loud scream instead of required barking. But punishment didn't stop there...

Before even regaining composure, he had already begun punching both pussy and ass cheeks repeatedly until skin turned red again with fresh pain shooting through with every blow. He took his time with each punch, making sure I was terrified of it long before the blow landed. His aim on my clitoris was near perfect each time.

"You stupid bitch...I told single word only!" he continued yelling angrily throughout entire ordeal too - reminding me constantly about what happens when disobeying direct orders given.

Eventually things calmed down enough where barking resumed as normal (and no further accidents occurred thankfully). But internal damage had already been done for the day: My cunt was beaten, both literally and figuratively and I was feeling lower than ever before; reduced nothing more than plaything designed solely for Cindy's brother's sick amusement rather than person deserving basic respect/humanity.

My cunt throbbed, but oddly enough, the sting felt like a receipt… proof I was earning my place here.