The Second Degradation of Alice
Copyright© 2025 by tiffany58
Chapter 17: A Decision Made
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 17: A Decision Made - 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
I spent the whole weekend wandering around my tiny apartment, touching things, and generally trying to decide what my answer will be for Mrs Strong when she arrives Monday lunchtime. I knew this was my chance to escape the life I had fallen into but all the scary reasons Sir Tim had told me why I could not just stop, kept flooding my mind and hindered my clear thinking.
At the same time, the other half of my brain, the part that had willingly slipped into that life, was telling me I did not want to stop, and what I wanted was what Sir Tim could give me. Security and wealth for sure, but more powerfully I could live the life of a slut and a whore with no thought to the consequences – I just had to commit to being Sir Tim’s sex slave for three years.
I hardly slept or ate all weekend and by Monday morning I was no nearer to deciding than I was when I got home on Friday night. Already the first signs that things were changing had appeared, with the video chat window closed and no messages from Dylan demanding my attention. I suddenly felt lost without him telling me what I was expected to do today or this week. And no deliveries coming. No Charlie phone calls. So, this is what normal life should feel like, I thought to myself. I was already lonely!
I slipped on an old kimono, this one with a tie to hold it together over my small body. My first tentative step into being “normal” simply being to cover myself up, even though nobody was with me. Was this a step towards normality or a final act of desperation before signing my life away? When, at one minute to noon, the entry doorbell suddenly rang, the noise sounded like an alarm and echoed around my small apartment, shocking me out of my stupor and making me leap to my feet from the sofa where I had been slumped for the last hour. I pressed the button to let her in, still not knowing what my answer was going to be.
Two minutes later, I answered a sharp wrap on my door and opened it to find Mrs Bridget Strong standing there, with a briefcase in one hand, a large sports bag over her shoulder, and a sly smile slipping across her lips. She was definitely in Dominatrix mode today as, without waiting to be invited, she marched past me and into my lounge area. She was wearing a tight bodycon black leather dress, sheer black stockings and 5-inch stilettos – she towered over me and overpowered me with her presence. Turning to me and looking me up and down as if assessing every inch of me – subconsciously I pulled the kimono closer around my exposed chest – she demanded “So, Alice, what have you decided? Do I turn around and leave now so you can start your new life with none of us involved with you ever again? Or do we start the process of turning you into Sir Timothy’s sex slave for at least the next three years”
She tapped her foot impatiently, her shoe pivoting on the needle-sharp heels that sunk into my rug, and left small indentations. When I started to say I did not know what to do, she said very loudly and sternly, “I think you do know. You are just afraid to say it out loud. You must decide! Now! What do you want – an uncertain and uncomfortable freedom or a secure and satisfying life as his slave? No more hesitating.”
I stared at her beautiful, but hard. face, then at her vicious looking heels, took a deep breath and looked back at her smirking mouth. I was overwhelmed by this mature vixen, her eyes urging me to say the thing she knew I wanted to say. With a sob, in a tiny voice, I said “Yes. I accept. I will be Sir Timothy’s sex slave” and let my breath go with a sigh, as if I had relaxed for the first time since Friday.
“Good girl – sensible decision – you were made for this role” Bridget told me as she went to my small dining table and opened her briefcase to remove a stack of papers. “Let us do the contract first and then we can set up your bank account and make your first payment.”
We both settled down at the table and she pushed a slim file of papers towards me and said “This is your contract – it says you agree to work as a willing sex slave for Sir Timothy Barlow for three years in return for £1million per annum for three years plus a final bonus of another £1million. The contract can be run-on, extended on similar annual terms until such time as Sir Tim or you decide that the contract should be terminated.
“In return, you agree to give up all rights to property, assets, and other personal possessions, and willingly agree to allow Sir Tim all and any sexual rights to your body to do with in any way, manner or form he decides is necessary for his enjoyment of his slave. Just sign here at the bottom of the last page.”
She gave me no time or opportunity to read the document but immediately took the signed document away from me and pushed it into her briefcase. “Right, our next task is to set up your off-shore bank account and make the first payment to you, but before we do that you are now officially Sir Tim’s sex slave and as his representative, I have full power of attorney over everything you possess. So let us start as we mean to go on – get that kimono off and you will always remain naked from this moment onwards, for the entire duration of the contract, unless Sir Timothy decides he wants you to wear anything special. We will come to that again soon.”
I was once again stunned by the speed with which my life was changing. After just a few hours wearing something to cover my nakedness, I was already sliding my thin covering off, revealing my slight frame to her appraising gaze. “Much better – that is the last time you will wear anything other than what Sir Tim puts you in.”
For the next hour I sat naked beside Mrs Strong as she set up my new off-shore account, made a small payment into it to test the system and then transferred £1million to the account. She explained how I could access the account and see what was happening to my money, but I could not withdraw any until my contract had been completed. “You are now a rich young woman and will be significantly richer in three years, but now the final stage is to sign over all your worldly goods to me to dispose of at a fair market price, the proceeds to be added to your off-shore account. Just sign at the bottom of the last page. Good, we are all done. So, car and apartment keys please.”
“You are now Sir Timothy Barlow’s own personal sex slave and will do whatever he wants from now on, and the first thing he wants is for me to dress you ready for delivery to him tonight.”
She lifted the sports bag on to what had, until a few moments ago, been my dining table but was now to be disposed of, along with everything else I possessed. Opening the bag, she lifted out various items of leather and metal which made me shudder with fear as I remembered what Sir Tim had done to me before. Ordering me to stand up, Mrs Strong clicked a handcuff on to my left wrist and told me to put both hands behind my back, clicking the other handcuff into place on my right wrist as soon as I obeyed her command.
My hands were now fixed behind my back. Telling me to sit down again, she quickly fixed a leather cuff to each ankle and, pushing my feet apart, attached a long spreader-bar between the two cuffs, forcing my feet wide apart. Next, two leather cuffs were fitted to my thighs, just above my knees and another, although marginally shorter, spreader bar was fitted and fixed between them. Then two more leather cuffs were fitted to my upper thighs just where my natural vaginal gap between my thighs started. Each of the six cuffs had various metal rings attached.
She ordered me to stand, and with difficulty I managed to stand up straight, my legs uncomfortably spread and my hands and arms no use at all in keeping my balance. Pushing my hair out of the way Bridget Strong now fitted a deep leather collar around my neck, metal rings attached at various points around it, the collar forcing my chin up and keeping my head straight. She gently stroked my face and shoulders, leaning in to place a tender French kiss on my lips, slipping her wet tongue into my willing mouth.
“Mmmm. I have wanted to do that for a long time. I will have fun with you babe. But not now I am afraid – open wide” and a large-penis shaped gag was pushed in to my mouth, almost entering my throat and wide enough in girth to force my mouth open to its maximum. A strap attached to it was quickly fastened behind my head.
“That should keep you quiet while I do the painful bits” she laughed, as she pushed me over the table and an even larger penis-shaped dildo was pushed in to my unprepared anus. A chain was now attached to a ring at the back of my collar, dropped down to connect with my handcuffs, pulling my hands and arms up into an unnatural position between my shoulder blades and then dropped down to the end of the dildo buried inside my rectum, where another ring was fitted and awaited the chain from my neck and hands.
She pulled me back into an ungainly standing position, before massaging my breasts and tweaking my nipples with both hands, until she dropped her mouth down to suckle on first one and then the other, until both were hard and erect. Just as I was beginning to enjoy her attentions she stopped, at which point she suddenly clipped two bull-dog toothed clamps on to my poor saliva coated nubs. I tried to scream with pain but the penis gag stopped anything other than a muffled moan escaping my stretched mouth.
Crouching between my spread thighs, she pulled my labia apart and more clamps were attached to both my inner and exterior labia, before the last one was fitted over my poor clitoris. I was screaming non-stop as she ran more chains from my labia major, sliding them through rings on the outside of the new cuffs at my groin to pull them apart, and then down the outside of my legs to fix them to the outside of the cuffs holding my knee height spreader and then on down to my ankle-cuffs.
In no hurry to lessen my pain, two chains were attached to the clamps on my inner labia and were pulled up tight to attach to the rings on the clamps on my nipples. Two more were attached to the same nipple clamps and pulled up to attach to rings on my neck collar. Finally, I hoped, the chain attached to my anal dildo was pulled tight between my thighs and up between my spread labia, pressing against my exposed vaginal opening and then threaded through the ring on my clitoral clamp before being pulled up the length of my torso to attach to another ring on my collar under my chin.
“Ah, lovely – metal and leather do suit you so well,” Mrs Strong smiled as she stroked each point of attachment and watched me wincing with pain. Taking her phone from her bag, she said “Right she is ready for collection, bring the trolley up to the penthouse floor - the door is open for you.”
Five minutes later two burley men came into the apartment with a trolley, with metal bars standing up from the base. Placing the trolley beside me, they physically lifted me off the ground and on to the base, my screams of agony, even with the penis gag, reaching their ears as they watched all the clamps and chains jiggling around.