Stages of Descent Ch. 01

This is a dystopian world where adult women must suppress all sexual desires. If they fail, they move through the five Stages of being a slut. Stage 5 sluts permanently become society's Breeders and Consorts. Men are not held to any standards.

All characters are adults well over 18, and I try to make this clear through the details. Fantasy only. Elements of this story are unacceptable in real life.

This chapter includes: sexism, non-consent, humiliation, degrading language, restraints, forced oral, and forced orgasm.

***

I barricaded my bedroom door when I heard my housemate, Kelly, open up the front door for the police. I crouched in the corner of my room, shaking.

I've been considered a Stage 1 slut since I was in college. One day, a roommate found "illicit material" under my bed—a porn magazine that my vengeful ex, Drew, had stashed there when we broke up. The roommate reported me, and I was sent to the police. They fitted me with a permanent tracking bracelet. If I ever got in any kind of trouble, they said, they wouldn't hesitate to escalate me to Stage 2. I've been "Tracked" ever since.

At the time, I was heartbroken. Once you're Stage 1, you can never go back to Stage 0. Some of my friends used to joke that I might as well go all the way to Stages 2, 3, or 4, because in those stages, you can redeem yourself and go back to Stage 1. But you can never go back to Stage 0, and I intended to stay right where I was.

Since then, I've always been on my best behavior—no illegal items like sex toys, no porn (also illegal), not even dating—but now I'm kicking myself for getting into a petty fight with Kelly over the dishes in the kitchen sink. She controls our Internet subscription, and she found a porn site in our browser history. Afraid of getting reported herself, she needed someone else to blame, and she chose me. After all, I'm the one who's Stage 1.

So now the cops were coming.

"Open up!" the man bellowed, banging on my door.

"Geezuz, the little bitch is hiding," another man commented.

"They all do that," the first voice explained. "We have a warrant for investigation of Violet Hastings!"

When they finally forced my door open, I shrieked. They lumbered in, leaving the door hanging wide open. There was a short, slim officer with shiny black hair, followed by a stout, rotund, pale officer with sandy hair and circular glasses, who dropped a black duffel bag in the doorway. Both officers were adorned with shiny pairs of handcuffs on their belts. The one with black hair had an extra badge, making me wonder if he had a higher rank.

"Please," I begged, "please, it wasn't me. Check my computer. I didn't look at anything."

The black-haired officer snickered. "I'll be the judge of that. You're already Stage 1. Now be a good girl and come over here, nice and quietly—"

"No! Please, no!"

"Oh, so you're gonna interrupt? Chuck, get her onto the bed."

"Sure thing, Officer Eric." The sandy-haired officer approached.

I whimpered as he towered over me.

"Such a pretty little thing," he whistled. "I can hardly believe she's a Stage 1, maybe Stage 2. Too pretty to be a slut. Now come on up."

I shook my head violently, but he wrenched my arm up and pulled me onto the bed. He held my arms down as Eric grabbed my feet, despite my kicking. They lay me sprawled out on the bed. Eric was stoic, but Chuck looked ravenous, a tiny pool of saliva forming on the side of his lip. I thrashed helplessly, but their grips were iron on my wrists and ankles.

"Please! Please no! Let me go!"

"Tie 'er up," Eric scoffed.

"No! No please no!"

Chuck flashed a toothy grin. "Oh yes hon, yes. Ohhh, yes." He was kneeling now, his face close to mine, as he fastened metal handcuffs to my wrists, securing them to the bedframe. I yanked on them, panting, desperate, but the metal only dug into my skin.

Amidst my panic about Chuck, I realized Eric had done the same thing to my ankles. I was spread-eagle on the bed, unable to close my legs or cover myself in any way.

"This is what sluts like you get," Chuck giggled.

"No! Please! Please let me go!" I whined.

"Are you a good girl?" Chuck mocked, stroking my face gently with his callused thumb.

"Yes, please, I'm not a slut. I'm only a Stage 1 because—"

"Shut up," Eric demanded. He stormed over and slapped my face, and I winced as it stung. "I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses. We're conducting a test to find out if you are a Stage 2 slut. The only thing I want to hear from your dirty little mouth is 'yes, sir.' Understand?"

"Yes, sir," I whined.

"Good. And watch your tone." He pulled a document from his jacket and shoved it in my face. "You are legally obligated to answer my question truthfully and completely. Are you or are you not Violet Hastings?"

I squinted, trying to read the paper. When I was young, my mother had taught me always to look for two things on an arrest warrant: the correct name, and an official seal. With those two things, the police can do anything they want to a Stage 1 or above. Without those things, they could be fired. But I'd heard of fake seals, or officers recycling arrest warrants with someone else's name. I sighed when I saw my name.

"Well?" Eric demanded. "Don't make me wait."

"Yes, sir," I whispered. I had found the seal, official and correct. I could even see the watermark. This was real.

Silence hung in the air as Eric walked over to the black bag they'd dropped in my doorframe as they entered. He dragged it over so it was next to my bed and began rifling through it.

Any illicit material—porn, sex toys, suspected orgasm—can get a Stage 0 woman pushed to Stage 1. To go from Stage 1 to Stage 2, however, the instance must be more egregious. One instance of porn in my browser history would be not enough to get me to Stage 2. They would have to find multiple instances of porn viewing, or porn in addition to a sex toy.

But there is one thing that could automatically push me from Stage 1 to Stage 2: a documented orgasm.

Chuck whistled, touching my face again. "The things I'd like to do to you," he murmured.

My eyes widened when I saw the pair of scissors in Eric's hand. "No, no, no, please, no."

His eyes narrowed, and he grabbed my jaw, pulling himself down so that his face was only inches from mine. "Slut, what did I tell you?" he growled.

With my jaw clamped between his fingers, I felt my cheeks getting red. I whimpered, gazing into his cold eyes. I flinched when I felt his breath on my face, hot and angry.

"Answer me, unless you want to see these"—he held up the scissors—"marking up your pretty little body."

"You told me I can only say 'yes, sir,'" I peeped out.

"That's better." He moved and started cutting open my shorts. "Stop squirming, slut, unless you want to get cut." I forced myself to stay still as I felt the cold blade of the scissors going up my leg, then the other leg until he removed my shorts altogether. I stifled whines and whimpers, panting in an effort to stay still, as the blade trailed up my stomach and to my breasts, opening up my tank top.

"Such slutty clothing," Chuck tsk-ed. "Gotta get rid of that."

"It's summer... sir," I whined.

"Shut up, bitch. You know you can't dress like that."

Chuck was right. I would never go out in these clothes. But I thought I'd be safe in my own room.

One more snip and Eric cut open my bra, and moved to my underwear. I squirmed, my heart racing, my thoughts telling me no no no this can't be happening.

With one final snip, Eric cut off my underwear, my last barrier from exposing myself, and began putting my clothing into a plastic bag. Chuck moved and knelt, looking straight between my legs.

"That's a pretty little cunt right there, Officer," Chuck whistled, thumbing my clit. I moaned. "Aw, feeling vulnerable?" he teased, putting a finger on my mound. "Officer Eric, she looks so delicious. I'd love to stick my cock in her hole right now."

"Against protocol," Eric said.

"Officer, she's practically a tease," he complained. "This little slut can't leave me hanging."

Eric shrugged. "Take her mouth if you want it. We only need to leave her pussy intact. Let me question the slut first." He turned to me, his cold eyes sending a shiver through my spine. "Where's your vibrator?"

"Wha—what... sir?"

Eric rolled his eyes. "Chuck, search the place."

"You got it, Officer." He began emptying my drawers, tossing my clothing on the floor.

"I don't have one! Sir!"

Eric slapped me again. "I doubt that, bitch."

"No sir! I really don't!"

Chuck sent a stack of papers flying. I winced, as I needed those for work. I flinched as he opened my backpack, flipped it upside-down, and shook it, my laptop crashing to the floor.

Eric pulled a thin wooden rod from their duffel bag. My body tensed as the tip gently touched my leg. He ran it up the inside of my leg.

"Tell. Me. Where. It. Is."

"Please sir," I shivered, "I just don't have one."

"Have it your way." With a flick of his wrist, the rod came slashing down on my breasts and I yelped. "Give it up, Chuck," he called. "She'll get her punishment for lying. Her mouth is all yours."

"Yes, Officer!" Chuck said cheerily.

I shrieked as the rod came down again, this time on my thighs. Chuck stood above my face, and I heard a quiet, menacing zip.

"I'm gonna love taking your little pretty throat, nice and deep," he muttered, dipping a finger into my mouth. From his jacket he pulled out a metal ring with straps on it. When he lowered it to my face, I tried to shake him away, but Chuck held my head in place and forced the metal ring into my mouth so that it held my teeth and lips open. Despite my protests, he tightened the straps around my head. "Can't have you biting me, now can I?"

"Ahh, ahh," I tried to speak. I moaned when another crack of the rod came on my breasts.

My eyes widened when Chuck pulled out his erect member. It was throbbing, with dark, angry veins swirling around it. I had imagined what a man's part might look like, but I had never seen one before, not even Drew's in college.

"You're gonna take all of this down your pretty little throat," he cooed, laying his hands around my neck. He shifted my whole body so that my neck bent backwards over the edge of the bed. I choked, gagging, as he forced himself into my mouth, and then deeper, deeper.

Eric delivered another slash to my breasts and I yanked helplessly on my restraints.

Chuck pulled out, and I moaned as I caught my breath. "Good girl," he taunted, forcing himself back in again. He thrust wildly, in and out, again and again, and I could do nothing but take it, helpless, gagging, writhing.

While he thrust, Eric began slashing more. "Useless fucking slut," he spat out. Slash, and the rod came down on my thighs. I writhed in pain from the whipping, gurgling and choking on Chuck's member, still mercilessly thrusting in and out. "I'm tired of whores like you, wasting my time." Slash. "Making me waste police equipment on cheap sluts like you."

Chuck groaned and forced himself down my throat, holding me there. I squirmed against the restraints, unable to breathe. Something salty and slimy began coating my throat and my mouth. I coughed and gagged when Chuck finally pulled out. "C'mon, swallow it, bitch," he whined, slapping my face lightly. I kept coughing, and he removed the device from my mouth.

"You've had your fun," Eric said, and I wasn't sure if he meant Chuck or me. "It's time for the test."

He pulled a wand vibrator from his bag and switched it on, grinning as he saw my eyes widen at the sound of it. Chuck slipped his hands between my legs, and inexplicably, my body shuttered when he hit a sensitive spot. "Officer," he whispered, "she's soaking. And her clit is hard as a rock."

"Happens all the time," Eric deadpanned. I moaned as he placed the head of the vibrator on my clit. "Such a needy slut. We haven't touched you 'til now, but you're already dripping wet. Already craving an orgasm."

"No..."

He slapped my face. "What do you say?" he demanded.

"Yes, sir," I whimpered.

"Chuck, start the camera." Then he turned to me. "You'd better hold back, better not orgasm," Eric teased, his voice low, quieter now. "Only Stage 2 sluts orgasm."

I cried out. Stage 2 meant losing my job. Stage 2 meant going to Training. Even if I managed to make it back to Stage 1 from Stage 2, it would be on my permanent record. Everyone I knew, every potential employer I'd interact with, would know just what I was.

And yet, I couldn't stop squirming and moaning as Eric held the vibrator so close to my skin. It sent shockwaves through my body, and I felt myself grinding my body onto it. I cried out again as liquid gushed out of me.

Eric pulled the vibrator away and I whined, wanting more of that feeling.

"Aw, look at that," Chuck said, "she squirted."

"I think this little slut is getting ready for Stage 2." Eric turned to me. "Remember bitch, you wanna keep your job, keep your apartment? Don't you dare orgasm."

With that, the vibrator came back and I yelped as the feelings started up again, leaving me hungry for even more.

I whimpered, and felt myself squirting again, soaking the bed. I can't be feeling this. It can't be happening.

"Little slut can't help herself," Chuck giggled, grabbing my nipple between his fingers and twisting. "Remember," he teased, "no orgasm for you."

"Ah, ah, ah," I moaned.

"Who controls your pleasure?" Eric looked me in the eye.

"Ahhh," I whined, my breathing shallow, my heart racing. I was on the edge.

"Answer me!" He pulled the vibrator off, and I whined.

"You do, sir. Please, please," I whined.

"What's that? Do you want something?"

I panted. I knew I should keep fighting, keep saying no. I knew I was being humiliated. Stop, I should scream, Stop this right now. I'm not that kind of girl. But the words caught in my throat. Every degrading word the officers said sparked something deep inside of me, something I was deeply ashamed of... but that also sent waves of unfamiliar pleasure through my body...

"Well?" Eric questioned.

"Please... sir... the vibrator..."

"Aw, the bitch is begging for it," Chuck chimed in.

Eric put the vibrator back on, and I writhed, screaming. "We're going to keep going," Eric said, "for at least two full minutes. No matter how much you scream or beg. Tell me what you are."

"A... ah..."

"Ah? Ah?" Eric mocked, raising the pitch of his voice to a whine. "Can't? Use? A full sentence?"

I whimpered, unable to form words. He moved the vibrator around in slow circles, torturing my clit.

"Tell me," Eric demanded. "What. Are. You?"

"Ah... ah... ohhh... a—a slut, sir," I panted.

"That's right, a helpless, exposed slut, squirting all over for the bed, desperate for an orgasm..."

I shrieked as waves of pleasure coursed through my body. I was shaking, squirting, squealing, and I felt my body contract again and again. "Please, ohhhh," I whined. My heart was pounding. I knew that this was an orgasm, but I couldn't stop it. It was too late. My back arched and I felt like I was flying, the shockwaves coursing through my body.

I couldn't take it anymore, but Eric kept on torturing me with the vibrator, a wild grin on his face. My moans turned to screams as I shook, unable to control my body as the orgasm kept going, kept coursing through my body.

Eric switched off the vibrator. "There you have it," he declared. "A Stage 2 slut."

I closed my eyes, panting, trying to overcome everything that has just happened. When I opened my eyes, the room was spinning, Eric was packing up the black duffel bag, and Chuck was releasing my ankles and wrists from the handcuffs. Even though I was no longer restrained, I was too weak to move.

The door to my room had been open the whole time, and now I gazed up, seeing Kelly in the doorframe, smirking. Through her eyes, I was naked and exposed, a dirty slut. A Stage 2 slut.

Next thing I knew, Chuck was placing me, naked but wrapped in a blanket, into the police car.

As he deposited me into the back seat, he said, "It's alright. I knew all along that you were that kind of girl."