The Second Degradation of Alice
Copyright© 2025 by tiffany58
Chapter 11: Friday night degradation in Birmingham
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 11: Friday night degradation in Birmingham - A young woman is recovering from years of degradation at the hands of a group of mature men. But an invite to a school reunion triggers emotional flashbacks and leads her towards a second degrading life. How will she survive?
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft Coercion Consensual BDSM DomSub MaleDom Humiliation Rough Gang Bang Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Exhibitionism First Fisting Masturbation Oral Sex Squirting Public Sex Teacher/Student Prostitution
Over the next few months, I had several hotel pick-ups in my new role as a professional hooker, including my very first client from Southampton coming back for second helpings when he was staying in London overnight. However, the more I did the less I was getting anything from it, it was just too mechanical – I had not had an orgasm, with anyone other than Dylan, since my night with the barman in Southampton. I was certainly not feeling humiliated or degraded, just used if I am honest.
Lying in bed with Dylan one Saturday after my most recent hooker experience, watching my secret video of that latest adventure, Dylan suddenly pulled his cock from between my wet lips and said “This is no good. You are not getting anything from this are you? You are supposed to be humiliated by selling your body but you are just switching off mentally and letting them use you. Am I right?”
I thought about it for a few seconds and then, pulling myself up to sit beside him, putting his arm round my shoulders so he could fondle my breast and nipple as we spoke, told him “Yes – you are right. I am getting nothing from this anymore. I am certainly not feeling degraded, it is just a mechanical thing where they use me and dump their sperm in me and I go back to my room to clean up. I have not had an orgasm with any of them and feel nothing now. At least when I was just being a slut it was fun and I enjoyed the experiences once I got over my initial embarrassment. So, what do you suggest we do about it?”
Dylan laughed and told me “I already have the next stage in your treatment arranged. The whole point of your diagnosis and treatment is to help you become the slut and whore you have wanted to be ever since your Uncle John first corrupted you. But now we know it is not enough for you to be just a paid whore.”
I agreed with him and unconsciously began to fondle his semi-erect thick, stubby cock, as he continued “It is time for you to be properly degraded in a way you have never experienced before. Next weekend you are going to find out what it feels like to be properly humiliated.”
Reaching down beside the bed he tossed two small packages to me and told me these were going to be part of my next experience. Telling me to open them, I did as I was told and ripped open the first pack. Inside was a small skirt made of a stretchy material and with a simple elasticated waist – it was tiny, probably no more than nine inches from top to bottom. Opening the second package I found a thin, white camisole made of cheap fake silk and with a lace insert at the top of the plunging V-neck.
“Put them on slut. I bought them for you on one of those Chinese online shops.”
I stood up and did as Dylan had instructed. The skirt was tiny when on, with the waistband sitting several inches below my navel and the hem sitting just inches below my pussy. The camisole, held up by two very thin spaghetti straps, barely covered my small breasts with the lacy inset sitting a fraction above my nipples. The camisole was short and finished just above my navel and hung loose from the swell of my breasts.
I walked over to the full-length mirror on the door of Dylan’s wardrobe, and did a slow twirl to see how the cheap clothes sat on my body. The skirt was stretchy and clung to my hips and buttocks, and when I bent forward the hem rode up to almost reveal the curve of my ass and my wet pussy. Staying bent at the waist I turned slowly so I could see how the camisole hung forward, revealing not just cleavage but most of my small breasts. My nipples would be visible to anyone looking down my top.
“What is this?” I demanded of Dylan. “Are you sending me out as a streetwalker next?”
He laughed and replied “I did think of that but decided that was a waste of your real potential. But those clothes will be an essential part of your experience next weekend. You will wear those clothes when you leave home next Friday – you can put a coat in the car but only wear it if it gets cold or to come home in. There are a pair of slutty heels to wear as well,” he laughed again. He then proceeded to tell me what I was expected to do next weekend.
I had to put these barely-there clothes on in my apartment and then walk down to the basement carpark and get in my car. I then had to drive through central London, join the M1 Motorway and drive north to Birmingham International Airport. Once there I had to park in the open air long-stay carpark. I could take a small clutch bag with me, containing my apartment keys, a credit card, my burner phone, and once I left the car, I should also put my car keys in the bag. He had given me the entry code for the carpark and told me to be there just before 9.00pm in the evening.
I was then to walk to the exit of the carpark and wait by a bus stop for the airport shuttle bus, and to be standing there by 9.00pm. A car would soon pull up and the driver would ask me if I was Alice, and I was then to get into the car, giving him my clutch bag with all my possessions in it, but not to worry about them as I would get them back when my adventure was over. From then on, I was just to do what I was told by the driver and anyone else I met.
I was excited and very scared as he told me all that, and Dylan himself was obviously just as excited, as he bent me over the bed and, pushing my new skirt up to my waist, fucked me hard and fast until we both came together, our mingled juices dripping on the carpet between my spread feet.
The week flashed by with my levels of anxiety and excitement rising every day – what was going to be done to make me “properly humiliated” as Dylan had promised? As Friday dragged slowly by until the point where I knew I should soon set out on my drive to the UK’s Second City, I slipped off the kimono I had been wearing all day, eventually squeezed in to my slutty clothes, and slipped my feet into the pair of open-toed equally slutty stilettoes Dylan had also bought for me.
Putting my door keys in the small clutch bag I clattered down the stairs, a coat over my arm to leave in the car until needed, hoping that none of my neighbours would decide to walk rather than take the elevator. Having a penthouse apartment suddenly became an unwanted benefit, as the stairs descended to the cavernous basement.
Once in my car, I breathed my first sigh of relief, but soon realised that the skirt was so short and tight fitting that all my legs were on display, right up to my hairless and already moist pussy, ready for my late afternoon drive through the streets of Central London, timed to coincide perfectly with rush hour. My nipples were rock hard and protruding very obviously through my camisole top, and I had not even left the safety of my basement carpark yet.
I drove out of the carpark and threaded my way across London – at every stop sign, red light or traffic hold-up, I tried hard not to look at anyone who might have noticed my bare legs or brazen nipples but all the time my exposed pussy was leaking on to my leather drivers seat. Eventually I joined the motorway north and, relaxing a little, set out for Birmingham airport carpark.
I arrived at the airport carpark about 8.45 and punched in the entry code that Dylan had given me. It was dusk and just getting dark, although still light enough to see me as I climbed out of my small car, flashing my legs and even wetter pussy to anyone who might be looking. I pulled the hem of my skirt down to protect what little modesty I had left, locked the car, and placed the key in my clutch bag, before starting the short walk across the tarmac to the exit gate, my slutty fuck-me heels clicking loudly all the way.
I went through the gate and turned towards the bus shelter, suddenly spotting a middle-aged couple with luggage waiting inside for the airport shuttle bus to take them to the terminal. I stood next to the shelter and prayed that either their bus or my car would arrive quickly as I felt their eyes staring at my near naked body.
Luckily, or maybe not, a rusty old car pulled up beside the shelter and the driver leaned across to shout out the window “Taxi for Slutty Alice – that you darlin?” as he leered at me. He had parked so I had to totter past the couple on my towering heels, and lower myself as gracefully as I could into his passenger seat, although still giving the couple a clear sight of my glistening vagina and pudenda. Once seated, in his broad Brummy (Birmingham accent), he told me to give him my bag but not to worry as I would get it back before I left the carpark again.
Without closing the window, he said, loud enough to be heard by the couple, “Just got to check you are ready” as he shoved a hand up under my camisole and grabbed a bare breast, and then did the same to the other one, before dropping it down to my crutch to pull the skirt up and grope my exposed pussy, a dirty finger sliding between my shiny lips. The middle-aged couple stood open mouthed watching and listening to his performance.
“Good. Feels like you are already for your evening work. My name is Charlie and I am an old mate of Dylan. I am your boss while in our fair city.”
“You know Dylan?” I asked in a small voice.
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