The Second Degradation of Alice
Copyright© 2025 by tiffany58
Chapter 8: My Second Degradation Begins
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 8: My Second Degradation Begins - 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
After my first face-to-face meeting with my therapist /counsellor, Dylan Jones, or my new master as he told me he would become, the following week was a strange mix of euphoria and emotional calmness. I was cheerful and smiling almost all the time, indeed a couple of clients assumed I had a new boyfriend or something like that as I seemed so happy. I ate well, slept like a log every night, and felt no need to masturbate, and neither did I need to go online and reveal my inner thoughts and sordid history. The week passed like a pleasant, dream-like, hiatus in my life as it had been for the last five years, or maybe the last 12 years if I thought about it too much.
However, when it was the day for my next scheduled meeting with Dylan Jones, the one where he was going to tell me his recommendations for dealing with my “Issues” I was a bundle of nerves. He had already told me, and I had accepted, that my problem was not trauma from my life with the four old abusers. Really, I was fighting against my true nature, which he told me was to be a slut and whore as Uncle John had first told me, twelve years before, on the day he had taken my virginity and started me down the road of willing degradation that was to follow.
I dressed simply for the meeting – a plain cotton button-through dress, with buttons from the bottom of the vee of my cleavage to the last one at mid-thigh level, and I wore a plain pair of black stilettos, as usual. I wore no make-up and no jewellery, and my hair hung free to my shoulders. I had a small bag with essentials like phone, cards, and keys, and that was it. I was ready for the Uber to take me to Wardour Street to discover my fate.
Climbing out of the taxi, my dress riding up as I swung my legs out and placed my feet on the pavement, I ignore the looks of passers by and stood looking up at the second-floor corner window where I knew Dylan was waiting for me. Sure enough, a twitch of the blinds over the window told me he was looking down at me and waiting for me to come to him.
I entered the building, nodded to the concierge on the front desk, and slowly climbed the two flights of stairs to his floor. Walking calmly along his corridor, past the neighbouring offices, I stopped outside his office, and with a deep breath, knocked softly on the door. Nothing happened for a minute, and then he opened the door, and waved me into the room.
“Slut Alice, I am delighted you are here to continue your treatment. Firstly, what is rule number one?”
I hesitated and blushed before whispering “I am a slut and a whore.”
“Very good Slut, and what is Rule number two, the dress code of a slut and a whore?”
“I must wear nothing other than what you can see and nothing else.”
“Again, very good Slut, and what is the new rule number three for our relationship?”
I hesitated, unsure exactly what he was talking about, but then, like a lightening bolt my mind grasped what he expected me to say and do. “As soon as I enter your office I must strip completely.”
“Correct Slut. But I think we will amend that rule a little – strip on entry to my office, including your shoes, then walk to the couch and lay down on it and spread your legs. So, what are you waiting for? Do as you are told – now!”
Looking meekly at the floor, and blushing furiously by now, I reached for the top button of my simple dress and softly said “Yes Master – I remember your rule.”
I undid the dress completely, slipped it off my shoulders and hung it on a hook on the back of the office door. Stepping out of my heels, I walked to the black psychiatrist’s couch, and laid down. As I walked across the floor I felt a sense of peace, underpinned by a sense of obedience and longing for what this man was about to give me. I knew and accepted I was a slut and a whore, and now I had another big fat old man, who had appointed himself as my master, to control and shape my life.
My second degradation was starting and I welcomed it.
“Legs apart, Slut. Good, now we can start this week’s treatment. My plan to deal with your issues.”
He pulled up a chair next to the couch, but much nearer to me this week, and rested his hand on my exposed vagina, a single finger gently stroking and exploring the folds of my labia. As he stroked my pussy lips and began to explore deeper within me, he started to talk in his usual quiet but commanding voice:
“Your old gang of abusers did a great job in teaching you everything you need to be an excellent slut and whore, but they were selfish and kept you entirely to themselves. It was not until I fucked you last week that you had ever been fucked by a man other than one of them. That was wrong and has denied you the opportunity to achieve your real potential for total degradation. A genuine slut makes herself available to anyone who wants her, and that is even more true of a whore who is obviously always available to everyone.
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