EroticReverie

Journal Entry #433                   March 24th, 2056

Dear Diary, 

     I know I haven’t written in awhile. The trauma hit me hard the next morning. I haven’t talked to either of my parents all week, and i’ve lost 8 lbs, because I haven’t eaten hardly anything all week. I suppose that’s why they give you a week for recovery. Yes, how generous of them, a whole week to “get over it” and accept that your vagina is the government’s property. 

 I went back to the auction hall today to get my FFA tracker bracelet fitted. Yep, don’t think I mentioned it before , but the bracelets worn by FFA’s have trackers in them to make sure you’re not hiding out at home, preventing male citizens the opportunity to fuck you. 

The bracelet allows any man , any time, anywhere to have sex with you, and at least twice a week for at least 8 hours, they allow you to split up the hours how you choose, you have to go to a designated FFA spot, which makes you a sitting duck. Guys will come , take a girl, bring her back, take another. FFA’s are allowed to choose TWO days out of the week to have “off” . How fucking generous.  The days are engraved into your bracelet, and if you show the men your bracelet they are supposed to search for another FFA. However, that’s obviously not what happens.  I’ve heard of men still forcing women on their days off, the women reporting it, and nothing happens, because, the government, just doesn’t care about FFA’s…(or women in general…..obviously). 

——

I watched the woman measure my wrist and smile as she looked up at me. 

“did you decide which days you wanted off?” she asked then looked down and wrote down the measurement of my wrist. 

She looked back up and I shrugged.  “Does it even matter?” I asked.

She just blinked, not responding. 

I sighed. “Saturday and Sunday?” I said. 

She laughed a little. “Oh sweetie, you’re not allowed to have any weekend days. “

I rolled my eyes. “Monday and Tuesday?” 

She nodded and looked down at the paper and checked the monday and tuesday box.  

“That’s a great choice, most girls are pretty worn out after the weekends.” She said, then continuing to write on the paper, I gulped. 

“Now, we’ll supply you with your first month of condoms, but after that it’s up to you to keep yourself protected.” she said still looking down at the table.

Protected? I thought. Her and I both knew, condoms were a fucking suggestion for men out there preying on FFA’s. And HOW kind, a months supply. 

“You’ll have to make arrangements with your doctor, for birth control if you haven’t already. “ she reminded me. “FFA’s are fined if they get pregnant. “ she reminded me. 

WE are fined. Not the men. US. The government made whores, forced to fuck to line their pockets, but we are in trouble if we get pregnant. I rolled my eyes as she read off more reminders.

“Once you are 25, you will be released from FFA status.” she said. Nobody wants an “old” whore, I thought to myself.

“If you are found to be violating any FFA rules, or not reporting to designated FFA posts at least twice a week, one of those days being a weekend day, you will be fined. Any FFA that exceeds 3 violations within a year, will be fined and required to attend an FFA camp. “ 

FFA camps, where were girls who violated the rules went, basically, they were whore houses. Where you were essentially kept, for a minimum of a month, no days off, and men had 24/7 access to any of the women kept there. 

I sighed, and looking down at my wrist she’d just measured I thought about finding the sharpest object in the room and sawing into my veins. They can’t fuck me if I’m dead. I sighed again, knowing what type of punishment waited my family if I were to take my life. I’d be dead and free of this bullshit, but they’d be fined every month 25% of their paychecks, until they provided another virgin for the system, or found a volunteer to take my place.

Nobody had spare fucking daughters lying around, and rarely could anyone ever find someone willing to volunteer. So most parents who lost their daughters, were forced the 25% fee. I felt nauseous as the woman got up and left the room. I felt my eyes water. How did this all happen? Why was this acceptable? I shook my head. 

“I’m never having kids.” I said to myself.  I wiped the single tear that fell from the corner of my eye with the back of my finger and looked around the room. A few minutes later the woman and a man returned, the man opening up two clear sealed packages, and then a third with a small chip inside of it. The tracking chip. 

I watched him assemble the bracelet.  The metal bracelet was two separate pieces, essentially a metal oval ring, broken in half, one side contained a small slot for the tracking chip, a tiny little chamber. I watched him slide it in, and then place a smaller metal piece over it that locked in place, no longer able to be opened again. i watched the woman scribble out the monday and tuesday boxes, and check wed and thrusday off instead. 

“There weren’t any Monday Tuesday engraved bracelets available, your days off will be Wednesday and Thursday.” She said, making no apologies for the change. I said nothing and watched the man look up at me and smile and hold out his hand for mine. I closed my fist and stuck my hand forward. 

“I imagine you’ll be popular” he said as he placed one curved piece around my wrist. I wanted to vomit at what he must have thought was a compliment. 

I watched him place the other piece over the top, lining them up and I wanted to sob as I heard the pieces lock together, the man testing it, pulling on it. 

“Yep, she’s all set. “ He said looking up at me. “Congratulations, you’re now officially and FFA” he said with a smile, a smile that made my stomach turn, a smile that made me feel like he’d be seeking me out eventually.  Congratulations? I thought to myself, was this man serious? I wanted to punch him in the face. 

The woman pushed the papers over to me.

“Write your name here….and sign here” she pointed to two lines at the bottom, then handed me her pen. My hand shaking as I looked at the black metal bracelet around my wrist. I felt a tear roll down my cheek as I signed my name.

She smiled as I set down the pen. “You’re free to go.” she said, standing up and waiting for me as I slowly stood, not wanting to leave the room, not wanting to leave the building. I knew what was waiting outside. 

As I walked through the lobby of the building, I watched men glare at my wrist, I could almost hear them salivating. I trembled as I pushed open the glass door and saw my mother and father parked at the curb. 

I walked fast down the steps of the building, my heart racing, just needing to make it to the car, so I could go home, so I could avoid the public, avoid all men, at all costs. 

“Hey girl!” A man shouted, I ignored the shouting as I sprinted towards the car, grabbing the handle and flinging it open and diving into the back seat.

The man running up towards the car. 

“Go! Go!” I shouted to my parents in the front as the man got closer. 

“Lela, you can’t run, you’ll get in trouble…you’ll get all of us in trouble “ my father said as I began to cry. 

The man was at the door pounding on the window.

“What day is it?!” I screamed at my parents not even being able to remember what day of the week it was. 

“Thursday?” My father said.

“Yes, Thursday” my mother said. I pushed my bracelet to the window, showing the man the words wednesday and thrusday engraved on the outside. Sobbing as I held my wrist to the window. 

I watched him give me a dirty look. “Whatever bitch” he yelled and hit the window with the palm of his hand and walked away. 

I curled up on the backseat sobbing.

“Lela?” my mother said her voice apologetic. 

“Take me home.” I sobbed. “Just take me home.” I said as tried to silence my sobs , holding my knees, snot and tears dripping down my face. 

—-

I had debated all night how I would split up the hours, and while reading the papers I saw in fine print, that starting just a month ago, FFA’S were required to spend at least a 4 hours block at any FFA spot on either Saturday or Sunday, “or both” was written in parenthesis. I rolled my eyes, as if any female would choose both weekend days. Those were the busiest days for FFA spots. 

But I had realized that Friday, Saturday and Sunday were the only days left in the week. So, I decided to split it, four hours Friday, four on Saturday.

My parents were both at work when I decided to leave to go to the closest FFA spot, which was about a mile walk. 

I stood at the mirror in our hallway in tears, looking at myself, blood shot eyes, my hair pulled back into a tight pony tail. Since it summer, FFA’s were required to wear skirts, or dresses, and they could not be below the knee. We also are not allowed to wear any sleeve longer than one third of our arm, and girls had warned to not even bother wearing underwear, as most of the guys ripped or destroyed them. I still wore mine, along with a white and rose floral pattern summer dress. I stared at the black metal bracelet around my wrist, as the tears still poured down my cheeks. I couldn’t move.

Eventually I stopped crying, I dont think I had any tears left, and I walked to our front door opening it, looking out onto the street, one singular car driving down the street. I stepped out , taking a deep breath and began to walk.

It was hard not fidget, and even though people in my neighborhood probably weren’t looking out their windows, watching me walk to my fate, it felt as though they were. I kept my head down and my one hand over the bracelet as I walked trying to cover it. 

I made it through the neighborhood and out onto the main street, and the FFA post was only about half a mile more down the road. I walked through the parking lots of properties along the main road, instead of right along side the road on the sidewalk. 

I jumped when a car horn honked at me. I turned in panic, and saw two of my  friends from highschool, sitting in a parked car at the fast food place I was currently cutting through. Both of them waved with smiles, on their face, but then one at a time I watched their faces go bare, expressionless as they noticed the unmistakable bracelet on my wrist. 

I walked over to the car, the looks on their faces pitying me. 

“Hey Lela..” Travis said turning down the music in his car.  “Umm…you need a ride somewhere?” he said avoiding asking about the bracelet. 

I shrugged. “I’m not far. It’s okay”

“where ya headed?” Gabriel asked from the passenger seat. 

I tried not to cry again, and I couldnt anyways, I was truly out of years. I only trembled and pointed towards the FFA post which was only four buildings down. 

“The post” I said quietly.

“I’m sorry.” Travis said. Gabriel shook his head and told me how fucked up it was. 

I shrugged. “I’ll see you guys around.” I said and just walked away. 

As I pulled up to the post, there were about a dozen girls out side, and I noticed the one from the auction hall. The one that was all too happy about becoming an FFA, and she was wearing a tiny skirt, and tight tank top, with her cleavage spilling from the top, she was flirting, yes FLIRTING with the men standing near her, and waving to ones that were getting out of their cars. I wondered if it was strategy. If she acted like she wanted to be chosen, because she knew guys liked it better when girls didnt want to be picked. 

She seemed to remember me too, and I wished she hadn’t.

“How did you get FFA status miss 1k?!” she said , as I walked up the guys standing near her looked over to me. She was referring to the fact I sold for over 1k, and it was rare for girls who sold for that much to be chosen “randomly” for FFA status. 

“A thousand?” One guy asked, and whistled. “Hope you gave that poor bastard his moneys worth.” he chuckled and turned his attention from the loud mouthed girl to me. I cringed as he got closer.

He licked his lips. “Wish I wouldve been there to bid….i’d have liked to pop the cherry of a hot little thing like you…” I felt myself get nauseous as his cigarette breath pushed itself over my face as he stood close and started to put his hands on me. I wanted to cry. I tried not to tremble, but couldnt help it as his hands groped me through my dress, grabbing my chest.  “These are nice.” he said. “why dont you come with me , inside the post, and show them to me” he grinned licking his lips again. 

He grabbed my hand and yanked me along with him inside of the building, slapping 5 dollars down onto the front desk where a woman collected money from men using the rooms, as part of a cleaning fee , and then he took me into an open room. 

The rooms inside the post were somewhat like the auction hall rooms, except smaller, and they had the same small bed, with plastic sheets, except there were no doors. I avoided looking into the other rooms, I heard several men grunting, and cursing, heard girls whimpering, some of them moaning, I cringed, wondering how any of them could enjoy it.  

I stood in the room and felt him behind me, his hands automatically going for the zipper on the back of my dress, lowering it, feeling the straps on my dress start to fall, his hands sliding up my arms , and grabbing the straps pulling them down, I held my breath as he rested his chin on my shoulder peeking over the front of me, to watch my tits be exposed. 

“Oh yeahhh.” he said, his hands letting go off the straps and reaching his hands around the front of my chest, grabbing my bare tits, squeezing them. 

“So this is what a thousand dollar whore’s tits feel like” he said, as he squeezed them harder. I closed my eyes and trembled. He laughed. 

“So scared….” he said, groaning in my ear. “you must still be fresh…” he said , spinning me around.  “How many men have had you since you were sold?” 

“A lot” I said, lying, hoping to keep him from wasting anymore of his time with me.

He shook his finger. “I think youre lying..only new girls tremble like you…” he grinned. “I think today is your first day….” he grinned , watching my face give me away. 

“It is, isn’t it?” He grinned and lowered himself, and grabbed my tits , pushing them together, and growled as he bit hard on one of my nipples. I squealed. 

“Well today is my lucky day…an almost virgin..” he chuckled and bit the other, and pulled it hard with his teeth. I whimpered as his teeth tightened, biting it harder as he pulled. 

“Ow!” I yelled and he let go, grinning. 

“You’ll learn to like it rough.” he said standing back up and quickly spinning me around and then pushing me by  the back of my head, over the bed, bent, over as he quickly lifted my dress and laughed at the sight of my panties. 

“Didn’t anyone tell you not to waste your panties like this?” he laughed as I felt his hands grab around them, and I listened to the rip of the fabric, feeling it pull at my hip as he tore them from me. I whimpered. 

“Please, don’t hurt me” I cried out, but no tears leaving my eyes. 

He laughed to himself and I heard his pants unzip. 

“It’ll only hurt a little”