Free Use in Freehold Ch. 02

My third day in Freehold I woke up again in my nice studio apartment, which had been provided to me by the Central Council. The apocalypse of 2036, which was a limited nuclear and virological war, was now a year in the past. The world's population had already crashed from nine billion to two billion, and was still going down, as a partial nuclear winter and a deadly virus circled the globe. If the genetically-engineered virus didn't kill you, it often left people sterile, especially men. And so men like me, who had healthy sperm, were now a valuable commodity to keep the human race going.

My name's Jim Bridger, I'm 18 years old and about to turn 19. I'm one of the lucky ones, and yet I too have been deeply affected by the collapse of most of civilization, which we call the Fall. My parents are dead, and sometimes I barely survived getting to this walled-in small city in remote and mountainous Colorado, called Freehold. Women rule here, through their appointed Central Council and their mysterious leader Eve. Most women here seem to blame men for the Fall, because after all it was mostly men in positions of power when it happened, and so men are second class citizens in Freehold. The Central Council and Eve are desperate to raise the birthrate, however, and so this is a free use city.

What this means is that I can have sex with almost any woman I want, almost any time I want, because that's good for getting the most women pregnant with the fewest number of men. But then again, any man or woman who wants to have sex with me can demand that. So public sex is common in Freehold, and even one of the main entertainments. Those who don't like it don't have much to say, because to some degree we're living in a police state.

And half of Freehold is walled off and guarded from the other half. Freehold South is the place where the children live with their mothers. Women who get pregnant are provided their own houses there, credits, and all sorts of medical care and child care, because, as was explained to me, it's the future of the human race. With proper clearance I'd be able to visit my future children. But the rules in Freehold South are very different. For starters, no public sex, for obvious reasons.

But in Freehold North, which most just call Freehold, free use is also supposed to be good for our mental health. But it doesn't always work out that way. Although I'm straight, the man teaching my orientation class my first day, Professor Nelson, ordered me to suck on his erect cock in front of the class to prove what free use was all about. Then Prof. Nelson ordered me to strip and bend over his desk, and he fucked me in the ass in front of the class. I could tell this was good for his mental health as he orgasmed, but it wasn't as good for me.

Knowing this might be an issue, I was immediately assigned a therapist with a real Ph.D. And then I lost my virginity to my therapist, 47-year old Dr. Amanda Jones. This time it was my choice. I basically asked if I could put my erect cock into her mouth during our session, because I thought it would make me feel better faster than talk therapy, and she said I could. And so I did.

After we had sex, Dr. Jones explained that technically in Freehold anyone can refuse sex at any time. But then they can be brought before the Central Council, and if their reason for refusing isn't good enough they can be punished, or even expelled-- released into the horrors found outside of the walls of Freehold. So although you can theoretically refuse sex with someone, because the consequences can be so dire almost no one does.

There was even a special language to threaten consequences, especially if someone seemed to resist your advances. Someone might tell you that they were asserting their "sexual rights" for free use, or say something like, "I'm going to make you lick my pussy now."

Dr. Jones is a member of the Central Council, and a so-called Daughter of Eve who wears a button with a dark triangle on it emblazoned with the letter E. E stands for Eve, and the dark triangle stands for the power of the pussy, through which this place is ruled. It had become a custom, as I'd found out, for women citizens of Freehold to just trim their pussy hair if needed into a triangle, rather than ever shave, so that whenever they were naked in public or private they would show their triangle of Eve--to show that they too were Daughters of Eve.

Freehold was founded by women, and about eighty percent of the citizens of Freehold are women, and just twenty percent men. It was decided that was all the men needed, as long as the relatively small number of men like me tried to get as many women pregnant as possible. I knew I was going to be rated and judged on that at some point, and so I'd been spreading my seed already, trying to gain favor. And yes, I liked the work, even if I didn't always like being a second-class citizen.

But as I'd already learned, men who agitated for equality got expelled. And yet I believed enough in equality that I'd already secretly joined the underground Resistance called SETAAC--Subvert Eve's Triangle At Any Cost.

Here's why I jointed SETAAC. If a woman on the Central Council wants to, she can order any man to kneel down in front of her, in the city streets or anywhere else, and she can urinate on his face, publicly showing how subordinate he and other men are. He'll accept it with a smile, and almost anything else, to prevent being outcast from this comparative paradise. Life outside of Freehold was often hell, with lawless mobs picking over the remains of civilization, but here in Freehold we had electricity from our own hydroelectric dam, plenty of food, cell phones, and everything else.

But like I said, men are considered somewhat inferior and subordinate by most women, and from what I'd learned from reading the Freehold Times news app with the icon F on my phone, women were getting more and more assertive about subordinating men.

And believe it or not, it's considered a twisted honor for a man when a woman pees on his face, and Marks him. It Marks the man as someone she wants to serve her, sexually and in every other way.

Money no longer exists on the outside after the Fall, but here people worked to earn Freehold credits. I was expected to be a productive citizen, and at some point pay my own way. The Central Council wouldn't provide my apartment for free forever.

To that end, just yesterday I'd gotten a job at Melanie's huge Bookstore and Emporium, which also has within it Sophie's Bakery and Restaurant.

Even before I'd applied for the job, however, another member of the Central Council, the blond, beautiful, and glamorous Stacy King, had Marked me right outside the store. Stacy's a powerful politician running to be the first President of Freehold, a new office that's popularly elected, rather than appointed like the Central Council.

Stacy King made a big political speech to the crowd announcing that she was going to Mark me right there, in front of the bookstore just before it opened. And then, as a news camera and dozens of cellphones recorded it, she ordered me to lower my pants and show my cock to her, to the crowd, and to the whole city--showing everyone the tool with which I would help the birthrate in Freehold rise.

I did it, knowing I had no choice, and then knelt down in front of Stacy King's crotch. She raised her skirt, and then used her fingers to spread her beautiful blond haired pussy right next to my face. I quickly got fully erect, and as the cameras recorded my seven-inch hard-on for her, Stacy told the crowd that this proved that I liked being Marked.

And then Stacy peed right on my face for about a minute, completely soaking and humiliating me, as the crowd of women cheered.

From that point on I was to be Stacy King's pet. She got me cleaned up, and then bought me two new suits at a fancy store called Moulin and Son. Then she made clear that she was going to be my sugar Mama, showering me with credits as she had showered me with her pee.

My Marking ceremony was not only all over the news, but the next day was in her twisted political advertisements, showing how men were happily accepting their second class status, and even humiliation, in Freehold. My humiliation was a tool for her political rise, and I was publicly letting her do it.

But secretly I became a member of the Resistance, charged with spying on her and the Central Council, and finding out more about the mysterious Eve.

But in the process of being Marked, I'd lost the respect of the a woman here I'd already sort-of fallen in love with--drop-dead gorgeous Miriam, the 20-year old coffee shop woman who worked across the street from my apartment building.

I was looking at the coffee shop right now this early morning, as I casually stroked my morning wood. I wished I could plunge it into Miriam's wet and tight pussy again, as I had yesterday morning before getting my latte. But Miriam had nothing but distain for me now, since Stacy had Marked me, and I think especially after I seemingly happily in videos on the news was seen giving the traditional post-Marking clean-up of the Council Member's wet pussy with my tongue.

I decided I should save my cock for work anyway. I didn't know what sexual demands might be made of me in the bookstore, but just in case, I needed to be ready. As an 18 year old I could often get it up an hour or so after my last orgasm, but just in case I was called on to do something right at opening, I'd resist the strong temptation to put lotion on my rigid member and massage it.

Instead I showered and shaved, and then made myself a nice breakfast with the food my fridge had been supplied with--scrambled eggs with white cheddar cheese and pepper, scalloped potatoes, and some canned pineapple for dessert. Before the Fall, my parents had assigned cooking breakfast two days a week as one of my chores, so I was okay at cooking.

Thinking about it, I was sure that somewhere in Freehold were huge warehouses with canned and packaged goods from before the Fall. But what was going to happen when eventually those supplies ran out, or years from now when they eventually went bad? Not my worry at the moment, but I knew that Eve and the Central Council had to consider such things.

I dressed in one of the fancy suits, complete with tie, that Stacy had given me, wanting to impress at work. But just in case I was Marked again, I put a change of clothes of jeans and a worn button-down paisley shirt into my backpack. I also had in my backpack, as I always did, a toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, and my lucky and useful Swiss Army knife. Finally, I threw in the paperback copy of 1984 that I'd found in my apartment. As Lambert, my contact in SETAAC told me, members would signal each other, or even call for help, by reading a dystopian in a public place like 1984, Handmaid's Tale, or Brave New World.

It still wasn't time to go to work, and so I clicked on the F app on my phone to catch up on the news, and saw the headline: "Stacy King Leads over Amanda Jones in New Overnight Poll. Marking of New Citizen Jim Bridger by King Seen As Factor."

There were other stories, but somehow I couldn't concentrate, or even absorb them. So I was a factor in their politics, boosting the beautiful and dangerous Stacy King over the older, less beautiful, and less politically toxic Amanda Jones, who was my own therapist, and who I'd very therapeutically had sex with at my first appointment. Shit.

I'd helped boost the career of a woman who denied the very equality that I believed in. But that's why I'd joined the underground, I reminded myself, thinking about Lambert, the amusing goth and gay guy who had recruited me in a nearby city park.

Finally, I walked the few blocks to the bookstore where I was now employed. I wasn't sure if it would work, but I looked down and avoided eye contact with people on the street, hoping to avoid any sexual encounters that might dirty my new suit, or drain my sperm before it was needed at work.

My boss Melanie, whose name was on the building, had texted me asking me to come an hour before opening for training, at 9 am, and so just to make sure I got there at 8:45--and my strategy of looking down did work, at least this time, for the walk to work. I also got a text from Stacy King telling me that the political rally called Eve's Brigade that I needed to go to had been pushed back till tomorrow night at 7.

I saw sitting on the bench right outside the bookstore a young woman with purple hair, dressed in slightly torn jeans and a loose white blouse. I recognized her immediately as Clarice, who was now my co-worker. She was attractive enough, in a college-student alternative way, but she wasn't a stunner like Miriam.

I didn't want her to be alarmed as I approached, since in Freehold anyone could ask for sex at anytime. I didn't really know what the traditions were like at Melanie's bookstore, but I'd gotten the impression at my job interview with the boss that it was work first, books first, professionalism first.

She looked over as I approached, giving me a glance halfway between a smile and a look of pity, and I said, "Hi Clarice, I'm Jim, or James--whatever you prefer. I don't know if you recognize me, but I'm your new co-worker."

"Yeah James, I recognize you," she said, patting the bench next to her to indicate I should sit down there.

I sat down where she patted, which meant that we were almost touching. I put my backpack on my other side.

Once I was seated, she added more quietly, "Who wouldn't recognize you. You're not only all over the news, but you're in those Stacy King campaign ads. How does it all make you feel? Nice suit, by the way, but kinda overdressed for a bookstore job, aren't you?"

I sighed, "Yeah, I guess I am overdressed. And I don't think I want to say how I feel about the rest of it at the moment."

Looking at me significantly, she said, "Yeah, I know what you mean," and then she took her phone out of her pocket, put it in her black leather purse, zipped it up, and took her purse and put it on another bench about ten feet away. I nodded, did the same with my phone, using my backpack, and soon we were back on the bench, but probably without the listening ears of the Central Council and Eve. Lambert had told me that the cell phones provided to citizens were also spy devices.

Still, I talked softly, saying, "Well, it's pretty weird to be honest. When I arrived at Freehold three days ago, believe it or not, I was a virgin."

"According to the Freehold News you're eighteen, right?" Clarice said.

I noticed she had pretty blue eyes, and I started wondering what her natural hair color was

"Almost nineteen. How old are you?"

"Twenty-three," she said, "But people say I look younger."

"Oh my god, you got to go to college, didn't you?" I said with envy.

"Yeah," she admitted, clearly feeling both proud and a bit guilty, adding, "Boulder. Majored in art history."

"Lucky you," I said, and sighed again.

Then Clarice did something I hadn't expected. She reached over and put her hand on my crotch, and started feeling my dick.

"Oh," I said, getting tense, somehow not expecting that anything sexual would happen, although I don't know why I thought that.

My cock was soft, but as she steadily and skillfully massaged it through my fancy slacks it began to stiffen.

"Relax, Jim," she said, laughing a little, and added, while still massaging my cock through the fabric, "You should see your face. It's like you don't even know what Freehold is all about, even after getting Marked and everything. You know they're right about free use often helping with mental health. I was feeling a bit down about the Fall, and I know you were feeling bummed about not getting to go to college, but now feeling your cock get hard for me has already cheered me up--and I bet it's cheering you up too."

"I guess," I said, as my hard shaft was now visible through my slacks.

"You know what might help you even more? Is if you saw and felt my pussy," Clarice said slyly, "I bet you've been wondering about what my natural hair color is since we met."

I gasped a bit as she continued to gently massage my cock, almost giving me a hand job through my slacks.

I said, "I don't think that's such a good idea. So far every time I've seen and felt a woman's pussy, I pathetically seem to almost start falling in love with that woman immediately."

"Really?" Clarice said, suddenly taking her hand away from my cock.

"Yeah," I said, somewhat relieved that she'd stopped touching me. If she'd kept going there was a chance that I might mess up my slacks before work.

"Well, I might like that," Clarice said thoughtfully, "But it does show that maybe the ideology of Freehold has some truth to it. I mean, it's an example of how a man can be swayed so much by the power of the pussy, and that maybe men's reasoning powers on average aren't as strong and consistent as they are for women. By the way, don't try anything with our boss Melanie if you can help it. She prefers women. I mean she'll uphold the law and let you fuck her if you insist, and really I think she's bisexual, but she has a girlfriend."

"Oh, definitely I won't. Any other tips I should know about our fellow workers?"

I let the insult about men's average intelligence, which clearly included me, slide. Anyway, in my case it seemed to be at least halfway true. A pretty woman's pussy, even if she was a woman who was the age of my late mother, seemed to make me lose both of my heads.

Meanwhile, Clarice was going on, saying, "Well, Thomas the Assistant manager is also gay. He'll be glad you're here mainly because that will relieve him of the duty of fucking the women customers when they want it, or licking their pussies, or sucking on their nipples. All of that stuff is really a challenge for him."

"Oh my god," I said, shocked, "How often does that happen? Can't the customers just have sex with each other if they need it?"

"Jeeze, Jim, You really are still coming up to speed, aren't you? Women outnumber men by multiples in Freehold, and that's even more true in the bookstore. By last count ninety percent of our customers are women. On average women read more than men. And I don't want to swell your head even more, but you're cute, and everyone has now seen that you have a nice cock, and that you submit to women. Your celebrity assures that you'll be popular around here. Speaking of which, Sophie, the bakery chef and restaurant owner, who is a pretty black woman, might try something with you at some point, especially if you like her cooking, which pretty much everyone does."

Suddenly we heard the door of the bookstore unlocking behind us. We looked around and saw dark-haired Melanie, dressed in a conservative dark green women's suit, opening the door with a smile, and beckoning us inside.

I grabbed my pack and Clarice grabbed her purse, and we headed in while Melanie held the door open for us.

Melanie locked the door behind us, and then led us to the center of the store, where Sophie's cafe was located. Unlike the rest of the store, which was carpeted, the restaurant had red tile floors, and in the middle, seated at a round wooden table, were some of the other employees. The smells were delicious--chocolate, spice, butter, sugar--and then a hint of something savory like quiche.

They all stood up and greeted me with what seemed like genuine warmth.

"Welcome Jim, I'm Thomas. That an excellent suit. Moulin and Son always do such good work. I'm so pleased that you wore it, and I hope it doesn't get too mussed today."

Thomas was a thin and dapper man, seemingly in his early 50s, who was also wearing an elegant suit, with a paisley patterned blue tie. His carefully combed hair was greying, and he had a very neatly clipped mustache. He looked precise and brainy, and like he knew a lot about books