[Fiction] The Child

[heyy1]

Please continue this story it is REALLY good

[kmacroxs]

What a twist

I'm trying to figure out how that happened. I think the librarian was pissed off at Yalda. Anyway, this is a good story. Please continue.

[Officelover]

Thanks for the comments everyone!

~~~~~~~~~

The men led me to a small prison “cell”—Omelas was too enlightened to have much use for prisons, so the cell was really just a small, lockable room. Nothing inside but a small cot and a carpeted floor. There were three police officers. The first one was quite tall, and a little muscular. He seemed to be the one in charge, and somehow looked right for the responsibility. The second one was a slightly overweight, but didn’t seem to mind. He had curly, brown hair. The last was very thin, slightly short, and wore glasses.

“So, you’re the new Child?” The leader said, “You know, the whole town’s been looking for you for a couple of days now. You have a responsibility to the people of Omelas, and you’ve been avoiding it for some time now. Isn’t that right?”

“I don’t owe anyone anything,” I answered, defiantly.

The man spit in my face. It was the first time I’d ever seen anyone spit in someone else’s face before. I’d never even considered doing it to Shitface. I’d shit on his face, but never spit on it. Though it was far from the last time someone spit on my face, and though I’d never considered doing it before, it was an immediately, inherently humiliating experience.

“You owe us everything,” the second one said.

They closed the cell door. The three of them surrounded me—the tall one in front, the one in the glasses in back. The second one laid his hand on my butt. My eyes flew open, wide, and the leader ordered the other two to take off my clothes.

“What… what are you going to do with me?” I asked, as they started fidgeting with my shirt.

“We haven’t had a female Child in twenty years,” the one in the glasses said.

“I guess you could say we’ll play it by ear,” the chubby one menaced.

As time would go on, I would realize that they were not the best rapists I’d ever had. They lacked the brutality or the pure energy that distinguish world-class rapists from the rest. The three of them were uncoordinated—stuck in the world of civility, unable to lose themselves in the dance. If they were to rape me today, I would think nothing of them. They would not destroy me, reduce me to tears, or leave me pain to remind me of their punishment. As an aside, they would not give me pleasure, as some of my rapists did. Some of my rapists—the shy, ugly ones typically—would rape me slowly, almost respectfully, and I would occasionally orgasm. They would just be like any others.

The only thing that made them stand out is that they were the first. They were the first, and I felt like dying after they did it.

[Officelover]

That morning, my first rapists brought me to the library in the police car. I wasn’t able to sleep that night, for obvious reasons, so I must have been exhausted. I don’t remember much, other than hearing them laugh at how tight my cunt was, and how small my tits were. I didn’t think they were that small, but I guess they weren’t to their satisfaction. I looked at the backs of their heads, with their short haircuts, through the bars of the car. They kept gibbering about the rape as if I wasn’t even there.

After a short drive, the last one I can remember taking for years, they stopped in front of the ol’ library, that hallowed hall of learning and intellectual curiosity. They got out, and yanked open the door, hauling me out of the car. They had handcuffed me, and I couldn’t escape as I desperately wanted to. Did I forget to mention that I was totally fucking naked?

When they finally succeeded in prying me from the car—I did my best to resist them, which earned me a slap to the face—I stood outside, the hot summer sun beating down on my breasts. I’d never been outside naked before.

It wasn’t against the law, in Omelas. People were allowed to go out wearing what they wanted, or not wearing anything at all. Some people wandered naked, mostly the sex people, but some who just liked the way it felt. I was never one of those. I must have been hardwired toward modesty. I never felt comfortable, not in front of anyone, when I was naked. A bad trait for the Child to have; I didn’t wear clothes for years to come.

They made me go up the stone steps to the library first, ogling my ass, I’m sure. We went under the cool shadow of the building, and they pushed me through the door. I fell on the hard floor of the entrance. When I lifted my face off the ground, everyone in the library silently looked at me. I don’t know why, but I screamed.

A librarian hurried over and demanded to know what all the noise was about. One of the police officers, the leader, explained that I was the missing Child, and that they had captured and brought me to the library.

She smiled at him when she heard this news, and kissed the man on his cheek as he blushed. “Thank you,” she said to him, “I feel so much safer now.” As I started to get up off the floor, she kicked me in the chest. “And just who said that you could get up, disobedient wretch?!”

That was when she made the speech. She stood me up, and held me tightly by the shoulders as I tried to wriggle free. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement,” she said loudly to the people in the library, “these fine officers have located the Child, and returned her to us.” There was a boisterous round of applause.

“No need to thank us, ma’am,” the police officers said politely.

“Nonsense. She is now in our care, and she will now be used by anyone who sees fit. A reminder of our checkout policy: the Child is a resource for all the people of Omelas, a key into the darkest secrets of humanity. Anyone is allowed to use her, for whatever purposes they want, but be wary of letting the Child influence you. The poor soul was perverted by the old Child.”

“So we should stay away from her?” a man asked, nervous.

Another librarian, the one who had announced my satanity in the first place, stepped forward and answered, “Absolutely not. It is the citizen’s duty to do battle with evil and to keep its Child down. We must be even more vigilant in punishing this one, for it has already proven itself cunning by running away from us who are trying to help it. My only word of advice is don’t be soft on her.”

And that was that.

[kmacroxs]

Is the story over already? Aw. Can't you continue it?

[Officelover]

Oh, hell no! This story is just getting started. Thanks for reading, and please comment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

All of the librarians met privately for a couple of minutes, and decided that my arrival was special enough of an occasion for them to close the library. They had me chained to a pole in the meantime, and the patrons of the library just sort of looked at me with fear. I must have looked like a strange sort of demon to them—completely naked, shivering, still showing signs of last night’s rape.

They didn’t have to do anything to me; it was humiliating enough just to have them stare at me like that. When the chief librarian came out and announced they had to go, that the library was closing to deal with its new inmate, most of them hurried out of there without making eye contact with me.

When they had all left, a black bag suddenly appeared on top of my head. I could feel them pushing me down the chairs. Panting, I tried to kick my way out of their clutches, but when they pulled the bag off me I found myself tied to a chair in the old basement I used to torture the Child in.

They turned on a bright light. Squinting to see, I saw the head librarian.

“Do you even know my name?” She asked, sharply.

Confused, I asked, “What?”

“I’ve been your librarian your entire life. I introduced you to the old Child, and you two certainly hit it off. I’ve recommended books to you, and given you the key to this room God knows how many times. Do you know my name?”

“Um… no.”

“I thought not,” she said. “My name is not important to you now. It would be a great insult to the name for you to utter it. You will call me mama. You may be the child of Omelas, you may be public property, but you should know that you are my Child. You are mine, and I will do what I want with you. I was the one who recognized the evil in you; though I can’t get it out of you, I will do my best, Child, to keep you from hurting the people of this town. If you are good and let the people do what they want to do to you, you won’t hear from me. If not, I guarantee you that I will do what I want to you, and it will be much, much worse than what they were going to do to you in the first place. I hope that’s clear enough for you. Do we have an understanding?”

I nodded at her, to petrified to speak. I thought that this woman, who clearly hated me, was going to torture me. I thought of all the vicious things that she could do to me. Instead, she merely nodded to the other librarians, and they left. She pulled up a chair in front of me, and stared at me. I thought that this was it---she was going to beat me to a pulp.

Instead, she just stared, and stared, until I fell asleep.

[kmacroxs]

It's just that when I saw the phrase "And that was that." I thought that meant it was over. I am really glad that it isn't over. Please continue.

[TheFloss]

Oh man, I always hope that you'll update this! Sorry you're not getting as many comments as you should be!

[Officelover]

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

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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.

[DrWhoFan77]

This is really great, please continue!

[kmacroxs]

I am so glad that you have continued the story. Please keep continuing.

[cgirl]

I registered just to tell you to keep going. Its a wonderfully creative story. I want her to have harsher punishments than the first Child.

[Officelover]

Thank you everyone! Believe me, cgirl, her punishments are going to be pretty harsh.
That said, sorry I haven't updated in so long. I've just had almost no time to myself recently. Hopefully this weekend I'll be able to update.

[kmacroxs]

Originally Posted by Officelover

Thank you everyone! Believe me, cgirl, her punishments are going to be pretty harsh.
That said, sorry I haven't updated in so long. I've just had almost no time to myself recently. Hopefully this weekend I'll be able to update.

I'll be waiting in the hope that you do update.

[Officelover]

When they finished, they quietly straightened themselves up, and left, but not before slapping me a couple of times, for good measure. By the time the three of them had left, the two librarians returned. The female one stood right in front of my face, so that my head was almost up against her pussy. She asked me sternly, “Did you satisfy those men?” I said nothing, too afraid to speak.

She grabbed my head by my ponytail, and yanked it up towards her. Looking down at me, she said through her teeth, “Look at me when I speak to you, cunt, and answer me politely when I ask you a question!”

She slapped me incredibly hard, and after a second spit in my face.

“Sorry, miss,” I said quietly, “I did satisfy them.”

“Wrong answer,” The male librarian said, “you aren’t enough to satisfy anyone.”

The woman said to him, “I bet she thinks she’s attractive.”

He turned to me, and said, “Just because men like to fuck you doesn’t mean you’re attractive, cunt. It is a burden we have to bear, fucking a thing like you. Just because you got the old Child to love you doesn’t mean you could get any real human beings to love you, bitch. In fact it means just the opposite. No one will ever love you; no one will ever think you are beautiful, because you aren’t.”

“We’re here to remind you of that today,” the woman said. “We’re here to make you realize how ridiculous, how ugly you really are.” She yanked on my ponytail, going up and down, nodding my head for me violently. The woman suggested to her partner, “I think the first thing we should do is cut the snakes off this Medusa.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more.”

She took a pair of scissors, and began cutting away my hair. I yelled and tried shaking my head, but the man only held it still between his powerful hands. As much as I tried to struggle, the woman successfully managed to cut off my entire ponytail, which she held out in front of me like a trophy. “We’ll take a razor and make you totally bald later,” she said, “but for now just enjoy the bad hair-do.”

With that, she stuck a wad of my hair in my mouth, and the man taped it shut with a roll of packaging tape he had. I tried speaking, but the hair and the tape muffled all my sound.

That was around the time that I noticed the sun was rising. People would be flooding the marketplace soon. I would be in full view, for the first time, of everyone. All my friends from school, my old teachers and neighbors… even my parents. I would be nearly bald, completely naked and totally exposed. I dreaded the thought.

The woman said to the man, “We can’t forget the sign.”

“Oh, right! I thought you were going to bring it out… I’ll go grab it.” When he returned, he was lugging a large signpost that he set up next to the stock. On it was a sign I couldn’t read; it was facing away from me.

The man said, “Here, whore, let me read it to you. It says: ‘This is the Child, enemy of Omelas and destroyer of all things good. All of Omelas may use it, for whatever they want, whenever they want. Today, we are publically teaching it a lesson. We are trying to make it feel as disgusting as possible. Today it is our clown. Pelt it with whatever you wish, cover it in whatever you like. Thank you, the Librarians.’”

I was worried. I wondered what people would be pelting or covering me with.

People were walking by this point. Tungar Square was being taken over by the first wave of customers, the ones buying their bread and their food for the day. I was surprised that at first, most of them didn’t seem to notice me. The unspoken social norm was to ignore me, avoid me, avert their eyes from me. They were too afraid of the power I might exert over them. I suppose if you saw a monster chained up, you wouldn’t want to go near it either.

Until… until one little boy showed them I was harmless, and that they could harm me. He must have been ten or eleven—younger than I was than when I had first seen the Child. He must have been skipping school, but he stood in front of me for minutes, painstakingly reading each word of the sign out loud. After each sentence, he would think about it, and look at me. When he finished, he stood in front of me for a while.

He said to me, “You aren’t scary.”

“I’m not?” I asked.

“No,” he answered, “I’m not scared of something as stupid as you.” He looked around for a moment, and started toward a mud puddle. The boy scooped up a big handful of the dirt in his hands, ran toward me, and threw it at my face. It didn’t even stick, for the most part. It just bounced off. But by this point he was making a scene. The librarians looked at him from the corner where they were waiting, cautious not to scare him off.

He looked around, to make sure that not too many people were watching, and he pulled down his pants. The boy squatted on the pavement, and started to “poop” as he said. After a minute or so, it was clear that he was done, and he looked at his shit, trying to figure out how to pick the long, snakish thing up without dirtying his already muddy hands. The male librarian walked over and called out, “Hi there, fella.”

The boy nervously turned around and said, “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

The librarian laughed affably, and said, “No one said you were, sport. In fact, you’re doing the right thing. You were going to rub that shit all over this thing weren’t you?”

“Um… yes, sir,” the boy said sheepishly.

“Great! I take it you don’t want to get your hands messy. Don’t blame you. Here, take this rag to pick it up. Only that thing has to touch your poop.”

He handed the boy my severed ponytail. The boy took my hair and wrapped it around the shit. Then he laughed goofily, and came towards my face. He held it beneath my nose, and asked, “How does it smell, poopyhead?”

The male librarian yelled, “Answer the man! He asked you a question.” The man kicked my butt a couple of times. (Literally.)

Crying a little, I answered that it smelled awful.

The little boy said, “Wrong! It smells like you!”

And with that the boy pushed it into my nose, and smeared it above my lips. He ripped off a piece of it, and started rubbing it on what was left of my hair. He ripped off another piece and started moving it around my face at random. The last little piece he held in his left land while he tried spreading my lips apart with his shitty right hand. The librarian laughed and helped him, putting his fingers in too and trying to open my teeth. The boy pushed in the piece of shit, and I spit it out almost immediately. The librarian started kicking my body, hard. He said that I would be beaten for this later.

The man then asked the boy which school he went to. He said to the boy, “Take me there, and I’ll ask your teacher to take your whole class down to see the Child. It will be an educational field trip for all of you. I think it’d be fun, and a great way to get your class more involved in the community. Does that sound good to you?”

The boy seemed excited, so he and the man went off to fetch the boy’s class.

Now that I was beginning to look ridiculous—if being naked in the stocks wasn’t enough to humiliate me, then the mud and shit on my face certainly helped—the message being sent to people changed from “avoid this thing or she’ll kill you” to “look at this pathetic creature”. People started crowding around.