Chapter 2

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.