The Second Degradation of Alice
Copyright© 2025 by tiffany58
Chapter 18: Slave life routine
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 18: Slave life routine - 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 mt/Fa Coercion Consensual Slavery Lesbian BDSM DomSub MaleDom FemaleDom Humiliation Rough Sadistic Gang Bang Harem Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Exhibitionism First Fisting Masturbation Oral Sex Squirting Public Sex Teacher/Student Prostitution
Over the first few weeks of my slave life, Sir Timothy made very little use of me and seemed content to fuck me and sleep with me most nights, which was pleasant and quite sensuous, and reminded me that he could be a kind and considerate lover, when he wanted to be! Although, on a couple of occasions, he did spend a long evening chaining me to a frame and giving my breasts and buttocks a powerful paddling. He ended my night with an equally vindictive fucking of my poor anus, his hips slapping hard against my inflamed buttocks, before taking me to bed for the night as if nothing bad had happened.
While he was breaking me in slowly and gently to my life as a slave, the same could not be said of his staff. Most of the men who worked for Sir Timothy in his London mansion used me within the first ten days of my arrival and those working at all the other properties I was taken todid so as soon as I arrived. They fucked each of my available orifices; the gardeners came in their muddy boots, the chauffeur in his uniform, the butlers in their waistcoats and the chef in his whites. But however they were dressed, their needs were very similar.
The women were much slower to start, initially just touching my breasts and pussy with their hands, as if to make sure they could do so. Then mouths began to attack my nipples and fingers my pussy. Eventually, one day in my third week, a sous chef simply told me to lay down and open my legs for her to eat my pussy.
The next time she hoisted her skirt, climbed on top of me and lowered her hairy cunt onto my face and told me to suck, before dropping her own head into a 69 position. (I learned quickly that if she was wearing a skirt as opposed to her normal chef trousers, then I could expect to be eating her pussy rather than the meals she was preparing.) She did, however, give me regular orgasms and I tried hard to ensure she had one too as she seemed to be the nearest thing I had to a friend.
The other women soon followed her lead and became much more aggressive in their demands of my mouth and pussy. The first one to use my anus, firstly by rimming me and then fingering me before giving me a hard buggering with a large strap-on she brought with her, earned a round of applause from her watching colleagues. The strap-on was left in my bathroom from then on ready for use.
The first time Mrs Madgwick put her head into my chamber, and told me to follow her, I just assumed I was needed by Sir Timothy even though I thought he had left for the day. But I was wrong! She took me up a floor in the main house and into her own private quarters. As I stood there, she very rapidly undressed to reveal her scrawny body: a bony torso, small sagging breasts, although with big areolas and protruding nipples, and a hairy bush concealing her own pussy.
She then sat in a comfortable armchair, hung her legs over the arms, revealing what was under her thick bush, and then told me “Service me until I cum. You will do this every Tuesday morning from now on. You should come to my room at 10.00 – if you are late, you will be punished. If I do not cum, you will be punished.”
So, I knelt between her spread legs and began to “service her” with fingers and tongue. After what seemed an eternity, she eventually let out a loud moan and her thighs slammed together, trapping my head between them, as her pussy squirted all over my face. When she told me to get up and go back to my chamber, I asked her how I was supposed to know when it was Tuesday and when it was 10 o’clock. She laughed and told me “That is your problem slave. Just make sure you are not late.”
I went back downstairs, my face and hair wet with her juices, passing several employees in the corridor back to my chamber, who just laughed at the state of me. Eventually I persuaded my sous chef to tell me each week when it was Tuesday and coming up to 10.00.