The Daily Life of a Free Use Girl

In the not far off future, the government decides to crack down on crime rates with a unique program. Instead of going to prison, nonviolent offenders are given an opportunity to redeem themselves through service to the community. For the girls who find themselves on the other side of the law, this means having to wear an orgasm suppressing ring around their clits to ensure that they aren't able to reach climax.

These are some of their stories.

Avery Faye

========

Avery Faye was not a morning person. Given the type of girl she was though, that never came across as much of a surprise. Both as a laid-back teenager in high school and as the deadbeat she had turned into after dropping out of her second semester of college. As such, between the first morning rays of the just rising sun and the shadows stretching across the ceiling, it was only under the hanging threat of contempt that she finally sat up in bed.

6:54 am.

Avery yawned, stretching her arms out above her head. What she would give for a few more minutes of sleep along with some sorely needed rest. It was hardly her fault though that her court date had been set so early. A mere thirty-six minutes from now to be exact. Only monsters and madmen woke up at such a time. Well, either that or those who happen to be unlucky enough to be caught by the police trying to sell drugs on the street. Funny how the mugshot on the evening news had looked so similar to the one staring back at her from the mirror. All the way down to the soft amber color of her eyes and the shoulder length brunette of her hair.

Letting out a sigh, she gave herself a few precious minutes of time before rolling out from underneath the sheets. Stepping into the shower she shivered as the usual spray of water splashed across her skin. Always cold and never hot, she thought miserably, and by now three weeks after her arrest, a customary staple of her morning routine. At least ever since she had been forced by the judge to sign up for the Free Use program for the Correction of Convicts. It was either that or five years in prison and compared to the possibility of waking up with the sharpened end of a toothbrush stuck in her face, twelve months of probation didn't seem that bad. Even if they really should have picked a better name for the entire thing.

Leaning against the wall of the shower, Avery bit down on her lips as she watched the water pool up against the tiles underneath her feet. Out of all the other acronyms they could think of, FUCC really was just a little bit too on the nose for her tastes.

Shampoo first though, and then she could think about how her life had managed to turn out like this after she was finished. Wincing at the way her nipples stiffened up against the morning air, she slowly measured out a generous amount of the fragrant-smelling mixture into the palm of her hand. Strawberries and sun-dried vanilla cream, just the way she liked it, and after a bit of water to get it going, she reached up to lather it into her hair. She sighed again at the feeling. Even despite the rushed circumstances of her near-hectic morning, the soft pressure of her fingers against her scalp felt almost pleasant.

A few minutes later however and she was done. More water to wash herself off and she shivered as she felt the hair on her arms stand up on end. Goosebumps from how cold the temperature was, she reminded herself firmly, and not because of the way the bubbles seemed to highlight the naked curve of her shoulders as they ran down over her skin. For what seemed like the thousandth time since she had been enrolled, she cursed herself for her weakness. She was here to take a shower and that was it. Not play around with herself like she was some sort of teenage girl who had discovered that her breasts were just starting to come in. As always though, it was a bit harder to maintain the attitude as she set the bottle of shampoo aside and reached for the soap next.

Avery hesitated. This was the part she had been dreading. Still standing there under the freezing spray, another precious minute passed by before she was able to summon up the courage. Then, pausing only long enough to take in a deep breath, she grit her chattering teeth together as she braced herself for what she knew came next. Hopefully, the water would be strong enough to carry her on through the end, and she closed her eyes as she reached up to lather the slippery bar across her body.

She went as slow as she could. Her arms, her shoulders, her chest and her neck, and then swallowing hard, she forced herself to reach down towards her waist as she slowly spread apart her legs. A soft touch across her stomach, followed by the cold spray of the showerhead, and then...

And then...

Three weeks ago on the day that her sentence had been declared, she almost didn't believe her luck. A mere twelve months of probation for a drug charge, and she even got to spend the majority of the time living her life on the outside instead of behind bars. Her lawyer had been overjoyed at the success. The prosecution a little less so. Now though, as the cold pressure of the water blasted across the soft outline of her lips, a small part of her almost wished that she had taken the full five years instead.

Avery groaned. The problem had nothing to do with the fact that she was trying her best to get herself cleaned up down there. That was normal. Three weeks ago, before she had managed to get herself caught, she wouldn't have even thought twice about such a thing. Now though, standing here in the stall of her apartment shower, it took her nearly everything she had not to reach down with her hands. Especially not towards the tiny and innocent-looking ring secured around the base of her clit.

It was the first thing they had done to her after she had signed up for the program. The moment the gavel had been rung and a mere hour after her sentence had been read, she had found herself strapped down to an examination bench the next room over with her legs spread apart and a doctor kneeling down in between. The entire process took less than five minutes. Looking up at the ceiling, there was a sharp pinch at the top of her labia followed by the dull sting of antiseptic, and then it was there, her very own government sanctioned device that served not only as a GPS tracker but also as a direct and physical conduit into her nervous system. No more tasers and no more handcuffs. Now she was truly free. And with a small press of a button, they could have her face down on the floor and cumming her brains out. Or rather in this case, drooling into the carpet as the device kept her trapped right on the edge of a mind-shattering climax that she knew she would never be able to get.

Fourier transformations and bioelectricity. That was the explanation she had been given as she lay there exhausted after the first hour of testing. Something to do with how everything in the universe was made out of waves, and how certain signals set adjacent to each other meant that they would both be canceled out as if they never existed. As such, no matter how many times she tried to touch herself and no matter how much she was stimulated, a small electrical pulse from the sensors built into the ring, and the electro-chemical sparks of her impending orgasm would be cut off before they could even reach her brain. Pressure she could still feel along with temperature and heat, but without that one little missing impulse of finality, she could lay there with a vibrator taped to her clit all night long without ever once being able to spend.

The water pulsed against her labia again, and Avery groaned as she bit down on her lips. The punishment was so simple it felt like genius. Unless she could somehow convince the court to take the ring off, she would be spending the rest of her sentence stuck forever on the edge, and that wasn't even mentioning the other requirements of the program. Fifty-two weeks of denial in addition to her other duties as a Free Use girl, which meant that in addition to giving up every last one of her orgasms for the next year, never saying no to anyone who bothered to ask. She had even gone so far as to look up the original letter of the law as it had been written. Old, young, handsome or fat, regardless of who they were or how little they had, the only thing she was allowed to legally say in response was whether it was going to be her mouth, her pussy, or her ass.

One... two... three...

She panted as she continued to stand there, the showerhead held between her legs. The procedure was always the same, hammered into her brain over the last couple of weeks. It was the only way she could force herself to go through with washing herself down there. Count to ten and take a deep breath. A couple more seconds to make sure that she was clean all the way through, and then the moment the timer in her head hit zero, she jerked the torturous source of pressure away from her clit faster than she could even blink. Reaching out for the knob, she desperately turned the water shut as she leaned against the wall to watch the remaining droplets trickle down the drain. She shivered against the aftermath, a strange mixture of cold and heat before she finally stepped out of the shower to get dressed.

7:00 am.

Her alarm rang.

Dimly, she let it go on for a couple more seconds before walking over to turn it off. Her bedroom was only a dozen or so feet away, but it felt like it took her more than an entire hour to move across the small space. Between her legs her pussy continued to throb, and she awkwardly reached over for the clothes she had left out for herself on the bed. A pair of plain white panties and a utilitarian-looking sports bra, standard issue for Free Use girls like her, and she bit down on her lips as she felt the soft fabric of the garments brushing up against her nipples and her clit. A small break to get used to the feeling and then following that, a conservative top along with a formal knee length skirt. A nice one for her day in court under the ever-watchful eye of the government.

There was no time for breakfast. She stepped out of her apartment and locked the door behind her. Her parole officer was already waiting for her outside in his car.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded, and he took off. As the vehicle began to pick up speed, she winced as she felt the vibrations from the road pressing up against her through the thin padding of her seat. Her panties rubbed up uncomfortably against her still sensitive crotch, and she squirmed as she tried to find a better position. Already, she could feel the tell-tale signs of her arousal soaking into the top layer of the fabric. Hopefully they wouldn't be too wet by the time they got to the court. Having to sit through an entire hour of legalese with her underwear sticking to her most intimate places was not something she looked forward to. Doubly so when there was a decent chance that she would finally be assigned to the public use stocks today as part of her weekly community service.

Avery sighed as she looked out the window. The only saving grace was that at least then, she would be allowed to wear a mask over her face. Nobody could say that justice wasn't blind after all, even for someone like her, and as the car drove up the ramp that led to the highway, she tried not to think too hard about the number of days she had left until she was free.

Only forty-nine more weeks to get through, she thought miserably. Forty-nine weeks of torture before she would finally be allowed the satisfaction of relief. And that was only if her body could even remember how to do so after being denied for so long.

Sinking down into her seat, she hoped that they wouldn't be too late for the hearing.

Mary Simons

========

There was a common saying within the Free Use program that the first week was always the hardest. Most of the participants interviewed about it afterwards tended to say more or less the same thing. In this case though, most people didn't always mean everyone and thus for a certain Mary Simons, a convict in her third month in, she couldn't quite bring herself to agree. Not that her first week hadn't been hard as she lay there in bed with her pussy soaked through hands clenched above the sheets, but even as the second and third week arrived and the novelty had started to wear off, it was as if the difficulties of the program never once changed.

In short, she needed to cum, and she needed to do so now. Every day that she woke up, she was greeted with the same thing. An emptiness between her legs accompanied by a stiffness around her nipples and her clit, and the frustration wasn't made any better by the rough fabric of her underwear as they rubbed up against her all day. Morning, afternoon, on the weekends and even at night when she was trying to sleep, by the time her second court mandated hearing came around, she was already trying everything she could think of to distract herself short of going insane. Yoga, tennis, meditation, sports, out of desperation she had even gone so far as to see a therapist about the entire thing whose only unhelpful answer was that it was all in her head. As if the root cause of her malaise was her attitude towards life instead of the fact that there was an orgasm suppressing ring currently secured around the base of her clit.

As such, it wasn't exactly accurate to say that the first week was the hardest. Rather, it was more appropriate to say that every week was. Every last one of the three hundred and sixty-five days that she had to get through with her orgasms locked away and her pussy aching for relief. And standing in the middle of the bus as it trundled along at a mere thirty miles per hour down the rough city streets, stopping at every other corner to let more and more passengers in, it wasn't too far off the mark to also say that she was far from enjoying her morning routine.

"Give me one margarita, I'ma open my legs..."

"Give me two margaritas, I'ma give you some head..."

"Give me three margaritas..."

Mary sighed.

Besides her, the headphones of one of the passengers continued to leak, spreading his questionable taste of music for everyone to hear. Having to ride a bus was the worst. Almost akin to being skinned alive in a pool of hydrochloric acid. And on top of that, the prospect of having to use public transportation wasn't that much improved by the bright red choker the judge had ordered her to wear around her neck. She tugged absentmindedly at it, regretting for the thousandth time the fact that her license was suspended. It was only a natural consequence of her punishment though for being above the legal intoxication limit while driving home after a late night out with her friends. She really should have listened to their advice and called a cab. Even if it meant that her account would have gone into the negative, having to pay a simple overdraft fee was a piece of cake compared to having to deal with this.

Quietly, she bit down on her lips. Across from her and on the other side the situation was just as bad. A man, overweight and older than her by ten years, leered up at her as she desperately looked around for an open seat. She didn't need to be a genius to know what he was thinking. A giant neon pink "Fuck Me" sign hanging above her head, and unless she felt like serving out the rest of her sentence in prison, the only thing she could do was to smile and politely say yes.

"Give me four margaritas..."

Hopefully though, it won't come to that. If her luck could hold out that is. Which was looking more and more like it wouldn't be the case today as the bus stopped at the next corner again and the doors split open with a hiss. More passengers climbed onboard into the already crowded interior and pushing and shoving past one another, they clamored towards the front for their tickets. Fighting against the crowd, she winced as she unceremoniously caught an elbow to the face. Oh, the humiliation of being forced to stand here among strangers she would normally never associate herself with. She was just trying to get back home after a long day of work. What did she ever do to anyone to deserve having to go through this?

Then, a moment later, almost as if the devil himself had heard, the situation wasn't made any better as an especially strong surge caused her to stumble backwards and into the arms of the man who had been eyeing her up ever since. Well, so much for staying out of the way. Sometimes, she thought miserably, the goddess of Fortune must really have it out for her. It was probably something to do with the fact that the old hag had to be at least several thousand years old by now while she could still pass for barely a day over eighteen.

"Well now," he said, "Is that a Free Use collar around your neck, or are you just happy to see me?"

He smiled, and she cringed as she tried to ignore the way his hands slid over her waist. The feeling wasn't helped at all by the sudden touch of something hard pressing up against her rear.

"Please, sir," she tried weakly, "I don't want any trouble."

The man only smiled again though, as if she had just said something particularly amusing.

"Right you are, lass," he said, fingering the collar around her neck, "Which explains why you just so happen to be wearing such a lovely little thing. As a joke perhaps? Or do you really not know what it means?"

Lingering for just a little bit longer, his hands reached up to cup her breasts as she bit down on her lips. It was obvious what he wanted, but surely he couldn't mean right now, here of all places. They were standing in the middle of a moving bus for goodness sake. There had to at least be a limit to such things, even if her status as a criminal reduced her to less than a citizen.

Another squeeze against her breasts however, and Mary let out a sigh of defeat. As much as her mind was screaming at her to run away, it wasn't as if there was much she could do about it and so after another short moment of him pawing at her chest, she did her best to keep her voice from shaking as he reached down towards her waist. Hopefully if they were quick about it the other passengers wouldn't also notice and join in. His hands slipped underneath her shirt, and she tried not to move too much as his fingers trailed over the sensitive skin of her stomach.

"Well," said the man, "I'm waiting."

"I...," she said, "Alright, I understand. It's just... we can get off at the next stop to go somewhere more private and..."

Her voice faltered as she tried to think of something else to say. If she could just get him to hold off for another few minutes, then they might be able to find a bathroom somewhere to sneak in, and then...

Well, she tried not to think about it too much before it actually happened. It felt wrong, but at least then she wouldn't have to deal with the embarrassment of having to do it out in public. Or even worse, run the risk of having someone record it for the entire internet to see.

As how it usually went in these situations though, the man seemed to have other ideas.

"And what?" he said, laughing at her again, "So you can sneak away? I'm hurt, you know."

"But there's people here," said Mary desperately.

"And there'll be people at the next stop as well," said the man, "Besides, it's not like it's your job to do anything else except agree."

His hands moved up even further underneath her shirt, his fingers rubbing over the sensitive ends of her nipples, and she tried not to clench down too much against the dull spark of heat. It felt awful, a wet ache between her legs as the two points stood up on end, but despite how much she wanted to resist, she knew it was pointless. Already, people were starting to turn their heads and unless she wanted to cause a scene and end up being arrested again for resisting, she didn't really have any other option but to accept the current situation. Shivering, she tried not to think too hard about the possibility of being reported. The only thing worse than having her orgasms locked away for an entire year was to have her sentence extended again for double the length.