[Officelover]

Sorry for taking so long to update! Hopefully more soon! Please comment, I love hearing what people have to say!!

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Tungar Square is the center of Omelas. It is the largest marketplace of our city; things are bought, sold, and given away. (After all, charity is a value Omelas has always emphasized, though there are very few poor people to donate to.) Omelas never was a materialistic community—the people of Omelas weren’t acquisitive. Tungar Square was less of a place for things to be bought and sold than a forum for ideas to be exchanged. Poets would jot down things for you for a penny. The elderly would sit and play senet while discussing philosophy. Teenagers meet their friends at Tungar for lunch, and children too young for school learn about faraway places from the foods and exotic merchandise merchants imported.

And in the middle of it all, at the center of the center of Omelas, I was in the stocks. Two librarians woke me up well before dawn and dragged me through the streets as the sun yawned. I was still naked, and the morning air chapped my skin. They didn’t touch me once; all they had to do was order me to walk in front of them. I was too afraid to run off anyways.

When we got to Tungar, the first thing I saw that looked different was a wooden structure. I think I’d seen it once in a textbook once; it was called the stocks. Between two wooden boards, there were three holes for a person to put their head and two hands. They used it in other cities to punish people. One of the librarians, a man in his thirties, lifted up the top piece of the stocks. He told me to put my head and hands in its holes.

I hesitantly walked toward the structure. I put my head and hands in the little semi-circles. Quickly—as if he expected me to jump out—he thrust the top part down, and locked the unhinged end. I felt completely trapped. It was already such a vulnerable position. The stock was only as high as my waist. I was bent over, so my ass was completely exposed.

The other librarian said to me, “Today would be a good day for you to get used to being shaved.” She pulled out a razor, and said as she left my field of vision, “Besides, nobody wants to see your ugly cunt hair.” It was a bizarre feeling, having my pussy shaved so roughly, and not doing it myself. I didn’t think the hair was that thick… I had trimmed it regularly, not keeping it very thick. Granted, I hadn’t had access to a razor since the day they’d announced that I was the Child.

While she shaved my pussy, the other librarian went to go talk to some of the shopkeepers who were setting up. He casually returned with a group of them, saying, “I understand that you all lead very busy lives gentlemen, but I hope you’ll be able to volunteer with us.”

“Look, before I even think about spending time with that… thing,” one of them said, looking at me, “I need to know if it’s safe.”

“Yes, quite safe. But we need people to keep it down. Even if you could just spend a few minutes after work with it—I think you’ll find it very rewarding volunteer work. You can do whatever you like with it. That’s why I wanted to let you gentlemen be the first to use it today, before all of your customers arrive. We’ll be keeping it here the whole day, maybe longer. You can each do whatever you like to it until you have to attend to your shops. Sound good?”

They all seemed to think it was a pretty good idea. There were three of them. They sort of circled around me, like vultures, inspecting my body. All four of them had smiles on their faces. As if inspecting new wares, they prodded different parts of me. One of them cupped both of my breasts in his hand, squeezed them. One grappled both sides of my mouth and fish-hooked me. A third stuck his index finger up my freshly shaved pussy.

They seemed to know what they wanted to do with me. I can’t blame them. The first thing you want to do when you’re given free range with a person is have sex with them. Only after raping them do you get to the really fucked up stuff.

It was convenient, for them, that there were only three of them. It’s pretty easy to split a woman up for three people. For four people, you usually have one guy waiting on the sidelines to step in, which they generally find unpleasant. Three holes for three men.

The first one broke the ice by taking out his cock, and stroking it in front of my face. It was big, uncircumcised, and ugly. It tasted awful. I’ve gotten to know the different flavors of cock, and that was the bad one. I tried all three of their cocks, and the other two tasted considerably better. I think each one of them tried out each one of my holes. I have no way of knowing whether or not that’s true. I know that I felt each cock differently. They were bigger. In general, these three were better rapists than the police officers. It wasn’t that they knew what they were doing better, they just had more energy, or something. Perhaps they felt like it was less their job and more of an act of charity.

All three of them seemed to get satisfaction out of it, in of that they came.