“Welcome to the Free Use Cunt Klub.”
I could hear a man’s voice somewhere in the distance, like in a dream. Then I blinked, and he pulled the mask off my face, pulled me up out of the box and onto the carpet. Strong hands. He lifted me easily and set me on the floor, where I coughed, feeling the nausea in my throat again as the realization hit me. It was true. Not a dream. It was real. I’d done it. And now I was here, on my hands and knees staring at a cheap Berber carpet.
“Free Use Cunt,” said the voice again. I tried to follow where he was, but my head was foggy. How long had I been out? Where was I? And who did I belong to?
“Box delivery on 25 May, as promised. A hundred days of being a free-use cunt. Then back in the box on 2 September.” His voice reminded me of one of my students -- young, excited, but deep and clear and forceful. I shuddered, feeling that familiar throb, the one that drove me to distraction while I filled out the consent form. Yes, I would do it. Oh my god, I couldn’t not do it the moment I found that site, the moment I read about what it meant to join and submit myself to being a “free use cunt” for the summer.
A pair of bare feet and jeans appeared in front of me, and I swallowed, my heart pounding. There was no way out. A hundred days of being this man’s free-use cunt, and no way to know what he would do with me. He moved, and then he was kneeling in front of me, dropping a document on the floor between my hands. A copy of the signed contract. The first tear fell from my eye when I saw my signature. It splattered just between our two names, and then his fingers found my chin, lifted my face up to his. “Is that you?”
I nodded, unsure if I could even speak. I was looking at a boy, a young man. Was he even old enough to drink?
“Welcome to Franklin Farm.” He smiled. His breath smelled of coffee. His eyes were green, his hair a sandy blonde, and he had a less than convincing beard going. But he was, well, he was beautiful. Shirtless, muscular and bronzed from the early summer sun. He hunkered down and leaned in, a grin on his face like he’d just had his birthday and Christmas all today. “We’re going to have such fun this summer,” and he kissed me. I opened my mouth and felt his tongue, feeling my nipples harden as his fingers groped my breasts. Then he pulled away and sat back, crossing his legs, staring at me like I was his new toy. “I’ve been planning for this for a while.”
I was his new toy. His Free Use Cunt, shiny and new, kneeling in front of the full-length mirror in his room, my hands bound behind my back, mouth forced open by a bright red ball gag. He paced behind me and explained the rules, his expectations and the punishments. With each new rule, each new revelation, he stopped and leaned in and slipped his fingers around my throat, slid his fingers between the slick folds of my pussy. Each new syllable from his lips was a stroke of my clit, and as he outlined his plans for me, I moaned and ground my cunt against his hand. He was everything I’d dreamed of, everything I’d masturbated to as the day crept closer and closer.
When he locked the leather collar around my neck, I was desperate from all his teasing. His fingers dug deep into my cunt as I looked up at the collar and saw the words stitched into the leather for the first time.
“‘Dumb Cunt’ is your name now. You will answer to it, no matter which of the guys uses it. Do you understand?”
I understood. How I understood. I was a university professor, and I’d been finishing my dissertation before I’d taken the plunge, giving myself over to a college kid to be his frat house farm slave for the summer. I understood, but all I really wanted then was his cock.
He’d poured his rules and expectations over me like honey, his words sweet, my cunt sticky and slippery and dripping with need every time he pulled his hand away. “Show me how a dumb cunt cums,” he barked, his fingers deep inside me. I came instantly, my body shuddering, a deep moan spilling out from around the gag as I thought about the words on the collar. Amy would have hugged me for giving in, amazed at how easily his buttery voice...oh, I melted into it, the heat from his lips so close to my ear, my pussy already aching for his next touch.
The gag, the collar and then the leash. He tugged, and I crawled after him through an empty, silent old farmhouse to a darkened room consumed with a king-sized bed and a small corner desk. Up on the edge of the bed on my knees, his belt across my ass.
“Show me how a dumb cunt cums,” he growled as he fucked me.
I came and came, orgasm after orgasm, his hand pulling my hair, his fingers around my throat, his words burrowing into my brain. He left me on the bed that night, cum on my face, leaking out of my ass and pussy, my hands still bound behind my back, utterly spent and glowing on the inside. I was about to spend my summer pleasing my “Daddy”, a 21-year old psychology student who would make every decision for me, enforce every rule he made, and use me in every way he wanted. I was “Daddy’s Dumb Cunt”, and I ‘d never cum so hard and so often in my entire 32 years.
The morning started with me worshiping his cock and swallowing his cum. I was aching the moment he touched me, hoping for his fingers in my sore but slippery pussy. But he had other plans, and I shuddered the moment he put me in front of the mirror again and told me what was about to happen. When he pulled out the electric shears, I felt a stab of fear, or regret, my heart pounding in my chest as I wondered how to get away, how I’d fucked up, how there was no way this was happening. I’d just been fucked like a whore all night, cum so many times I’d lost count, telling him over and over how I was his dumb cunt and being rewarded with the phrase he growled into my ear, the phrase that triggered the most intense orgasms I’d ever had. But now, the reality was setting in. I whimpered into my gag as he leaned down and took the first lock of my long brown hair in his hands.
“Please, Daddy,” I mumbled around the gag, but there was nothing I could do. I’d signed the contract. I’d accepted my fate. And Daddy owned me until September. The tears streamed down my cheeks as I watched the strands of hair fall down onto the carpet around me. Long strokes with the shears down the middle, then shorter strokes on the sides until there was nothing left but a Dumb Cunt on her knees, her Daddy’s fingers stroking her clit and whispering in her ear how he would take good care of his dumb cunt over the summer and she would miss him when the summer was over.
“Show me how a dumb cunt cums,” he whispered, and my entire body spasmed, an orgasm like no other ripping through me.
He shaved me in the shower later, my back pressed against the wall, legs spread. He was slow and methodical with the razor, and when it was done, he pushed his cock into my bald cunt, holding me tight against him. Slow and methodical again. He fucked me like he owned me, claiming me as his property as he filled me stroke after stroke. I moaned between promises - promising to be his obedient cunt, promising to keep my pussy shaved all summer, promising not to leave the house, wear clothing or touch my pussy. I was his dumb cunt for 99 more days, and I promised to please him in every way possible. And with every promise, I yearned to hear those words, the words that would make me cum all summer long. “Show me how a dumb cunt cums.” I would be his dumb cunt for as long as he wanted.
Keep going — Part 2 is here!
Author Notes: Like many of my stories, I have no idea where this one came from. I just started writing something, and it just flowed out. A professional, educated woman who wants to let everything go for reasons that will be revealed later. And the perfect opportunity drops in her lap when she’s horny scrolling one night — the Free Use Cunt Klub. Better than volunteering or sitting home alone; sell yourself into slavery for the summer and leave the world behind.
You know what’s funny. I don’t use her name in episode 1, and I’m not sure if her name is used in any part of the entire season. I can’t even think of what the main character’s name is, and you’ll see, it really doesn’t matter at all.
Only it won’t be as easy as she thinks, and once we get done with this season, told in nine parts, we’ll see what her decision has cost her. I’ve got it all worked out for seasons 2-5, and while those seasons aren’t written yet, you can bet they will come fast and furious when I’m ready (pun intended).
Welcome to F.U.C.K! If you liked The P.U.G.H. Society, you are going to love this!
Wow!! Very intense.
Every word and reaction is amazing, the intenisty of your writing plus the idea behind the story show to Tony Z you talents dear, Thank you