The Stripping, Chapter Three (Conclusion)

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The Stripping




By Dreadlocks


A Delectable Progression


It had been nearly two months since Cici’s humiliating exposure at the mall near her parent’s home. Since that time things had fallen into a sort of routine, if what was happening to her might ever be referred to as such.

It had become more than apparent that Amoya was nearly as well off as her own family, only choosing to reside in one of the poorest neighborhoods in the city, out of loyalty to her kin. She had come into her wealth unexpectedly, through the winning of the Powerball lottery.

Cici really had no idea how extensive her owner’s wealth truly was, but she knew that it was well into the millions. The question of how she managed to become a recipient remained a mystery as well.

What Cici did know, was that she was far from displeased with her situation. As much as she dreaded the public shaving and humiliation of the stripping, she found herself more sexually stimulated than she had ever been in her young life under the intense dominance of her owner.

The daily shaving that was performed by Miss Amoya had morphed into a more permanent form of hair removal, and quite surprisingly, without objection. For whatever reason, Cici found the notion of being permanently hairless incredibly arousing.

There would be no temporary fix for her hair, however, as Amoya soon demonstrated, wielding the electrolysis needle as deftly as any professional. Each day, a little more of her hair was removed, her hairline slowly retreating back over the top of her head.

In the month since her treatments began, Cici now sported what people would call the horseshoe of male pattern baldness. There would be no turning back now. Her hairless pussy would drool, in spite of the painful process as Amoya worked, cleaning any stray regrowth and working back, expanding the rubbery knob of which Cici was so fond.

Never one to be called less than thorough, Amoya had made short work of Cici’s eyebrows as well, her forehead rendered utterly, and permanently hairless.

The constant plucking of her eyelashes had rendered them essentially invisible, the hair so thin that it was invisible without the most diligent scrutiny.

Amoya’s attentions were not singly confined to the removal of Cici’s hair. No, the transformation of the once-proud Chelsea Manning, would not be complete without more disfiguring modifications.

The modest single piercing in Cici’s earlobes had been stretched to accommodate a twelve-millimeter ring. It was more than large enough for Amoya to insert her index finger during her oral worship if Cici’s enthusiasm was less than what she expected.

Cici’s ears were now ringed with studs, accentuating them even further, and bringing attention to their disproportionate size. Three stainless studs now breached the bridge of her nose, and a large septal piercing sported a ring that rested heavily against Cici’s upper lip.

Moving to her body, Cici’s nipples sagged slightly with the weight of the substantial barbels which transected her once delicate flesh. A ladder of piercings now lined her labia, allowing the closure of her sex at the whim of her owner. Amoya would laugh as she ran the single line of silver padlocks through the aligned holes, especially when Cici was on display in public.

Cici was well aware how the locks would pull down on her delicate flesh, the display lewdly provocative to the men and women who would leer at her nakedness.

Slowly, Amoya had begun to tattoo her body as well. Each visit to the dirty little shop found her body covered just that little bit more with reptilian scales. Although her face was spared, there was no mistaking the creature Cici was becoming.

Cici had become a regular pet at Amoya’s local clubs, naked and utterly on display, she was put through her paces at the whim of her owner. To anyone watching, it was obvious that Cici not only complied with every demand, but relished the humiliation of the acts she was forced to perform.

As much as Amoya enjoyed her slave’s degradation, she was entirely selfish when it came to the delights of her flesh. Everyone knew that although Cici was naked and wrought with humiliation, she was not to be touched. That privilege was reserved for Amoya, and Cici was never in want of sexual pleasures.

Each night, they would make love, in a manner explicitly laid out by Amoya. Cici saw to her Mistress’ needs before being allowed to pleasure herself under Amoya’s intense supervision.

Only rarely did Amoya pleasure her slave with her own mouth or fingers, but when she did, Cici knew that she was surely close to heaven. Those moments of exquisite attention were only rivaled by the most humiliating acts and degrading tasks, which kept Cici on the verge of orgasm without ever being touched.

Cici soon began to understand who she was and began to wonder how she might ever return to her former life.


A Rare Gem and a Decision to be Made


Cici stood, staring at herself in the floor-length mirror that graced one wall of Amoya’s luxurious bath. Although she had grown accustomed to her gradual transformation, to anyone not acquainted she had become grotesque.

Her electrolysis now complete, Cici’s hairless head and body would never again know the covering of that most vain of female attributes. Her skin glistened with moisture, the scales that had been etched into her skin brought out more vividly by her recent bathing.

She moved away from the mirror, knowing all too well that her sentence was very nearly at an end. Cici rinsed her mouth at the sink, running her tongue over the well-healed gums. It had been the one thing she had objected to but had relented at Amoya’s insistence.

Cici grinned, exposing her toothless gums, which strangely tied her face into the reptilian form, even without being marked by the ink which covered her body. Cici’s pale breasts also avoided the needle, which artistically burst through the scales as if escaping from within. Her sex had not been spared however, the wide ventral scales narrowed over her abdomen, covering her hairless pubis and labia, culminating at her anus.

Cici ran her fingers over the top of her head, the slick, rubbery surface tantalizing and erotically sensitive. Amoya had not wanted anything to disguise her baldness. Although her body resembled that of a lizard, her head would forever remain exposed and a source of utter humiliation.

Despite Amoya’s cruel desecration of Cici’s flesh, she had never been anything but the most accommodating lover.

Nearly twelve months before, Amoya had insisted that Cici was a natural strip, in that she enjoyed her predicament. Now, with all that had transpired, all the changes, and all the sexual devotion to her owner, Cici was about to become Chelsea Manning once again.

It was difficult to imagine leaving Amoya behind, but it was even more difficult to fathom rejoining the society she once enjoyed. Cici was not Chelsea anymore. She didn’t act like her, think like her, and she certainly didn’t resemble her in any shape or form. The blonde goddess that every boy in school lusted after was no more.

Yes, she could wear a wig, and cover the majority of the scales with clothing. She could even have dentures made to replace the teeth Amoya had insisted upon having removed.

The one thing she could never cover up, was her mind. A year of intense servitude and humiliation had changed Chelsea forever. She was Cici, a strip slave, and she found it difficult to imagine ever being anything else.

Amoya knelt her slave down on the floor in front of her, her bare toes resting against Cici’s sex, as they so often did. She would caress Cici’s clitoris this way, often having her lick her own excitement from them afterward.

“I must release you tomorrow, my lovely Cici.” Amoya lamented. “I have grown to love you, I think.”

Cici looked up, wanting to speak, but reticent without permission. Amoya nodded, granting her that privilege. “And I have grown to love you too, Miss Amoya.” Her speech had been altered by her lack of dentition, but Cici knew Amoya found the impediment endearing.

“You know, there is a way,” Amoya suggested, hoping against hope that Cici might consider it.

“I learned of it in school, my Mistress. I never, in a million years thought I might consider it, knowing that I was destined to become a strip.” Cici sighed. “Now, I find myself torn between my old life and what I have become.”

Amoya reached out and caressed Cici’s skull, her slave pressing into her fingers as a cat might move into their master’s hand.

Cici remembered what she had read. It was a small addendum to a passage, something that occurred so rarely that it was confined to such a limited mention in the text. It had struck her so profoundly that she had memorized it.


In the event that an FD (firstborn daughter) is unable, or unwilling to return to her family, or assume the status she once enjoyed, special accommodations can be made. In such cases, the FD voluntarily surrenders her freedom to the recipient permanently. If the recipient is unable or unwilling to accommodate this arrangement, another recipient will be found to take on the FD. The previous identity of the FD is struck from the permanent record, rendering them physical property.

         A thorough mental exam is required before any such action is taken, but once approved, the FD is free to exercise this option, being made fully aware of its implications.

         There have been three such cases (affectionately referred to as “Stripping Out”) to date, but the ADFD program anticipates that this option may become more widely accepted in the future.”


Stripping Out


“I want to stay with you, my Mistress.” Cici slurred, sucking on the thumb that slipped between her lips. Amoya found pleasure in this, grasping Cici’s jaw in her fingers while her thumb was suckled between her empty gums.

“Are you quite sure? You know that there is no going back, once you strip out.” Amoya warned, slipping her thumb out of her slave’s mouth with a wet pop.

“I cannot imagine being without you, Miss Amoya. I am quite sure.” Cici insisted.

Amoya lifted her foot from Cici’s sex to her mouth, her tongue automatically extending to lick her own fragrant juices from the well-pedicured toes. “Then you must submit to the evaluation, Cici,” Amoya instructed. “They will test you, try to break you, but I know you will be strong.”

“When, Miss Amoya?” Cici asked, almost fearfully.

“Today, my slave. There is no time, now.” Amoya sighed. “I will call the Intake Center, to let them know of your decision.”

Two hours later, Cici was sitting alone in a small, sterile room, still naked, and still a strip. Amoya had assured her that she would be waiting for her.

“Chelsea Manning?” A young man assumed, walking into the room. He looked her up and down, and Cici knew what he must be thinking.

Cici stood out of respect. “Cici, but I was Chelsea Manning, before.” She responded.

“Well, at eight o’clock tomorrow, your sentence as a strip is over, although your recipient has indicated that you wish to strip out.” He raised his eyebrows. “Are those your wishes?”

“Yes, I want to stay with her, as her slave.” Cici insisted.

“You will be the first FD to choose this option at this location. As such, we have no facility to examine you thoroughly. I’m afraid you must be sent to ADFD central division in Maryland for your assessment. Are you still certain of your choice?”

“Will I be brought back to Miss Am… to my present recipient when I have passed?” Cici stumbled, her toothless state becoming apparent to the man.

“It would appear that your current recipient has exercised her right to alter the FD quite extensively. Was this done against your wishes?”

“No. Almost everything that was done, was done with my blessing.” Cici exclaimed.

“Almost?” The man inquired.

“I didn’t want my teeth pulled out, at first,” Cici added. “But she convinced me that it was for the best.”

“Do enjoy being a strip, Chelsea?” The man asked, finally.

“I am a strip.” Cici sighed. “I will always be a strip, in my mind at least.”

“We will make every effort to return you to your present recipient, but circumstances may arise that would make that difficult.”

“Circumstances?” Cici questioned.

“If for some reason, we discover that the recipient is not qualified, you will find yourself placed with another recipient, permanently. Did you think you would be the only one to be scrutinized, Ms. Manning.”

Cici was fearful that Amoya might be found out. What if she went through all this, only to find that she would be torn away from her, unwillingly? And what fate awaited Miss Amoya if she was found out? Suddenly, Cici’s thoughts were clearer than they had been in over a year.

“I’ve changed my mind.” Cici sighed.

“Then, you will be free to leave in the morning. We will provide you another jumpsuit to return to your family if they’ll have you.” The man sneered, again, regarding Cici’s extensive alterations.

“I understand.” Cici moped, slumping back against the wall.

“You will be transferred to a cell until your release.” With that, two women entered the room and escorted Cici down a series of hallways. She was scrubbed down in a makeshift wash area, the women unable to contain their disgust over Cici’s modifications.

“You look like a fucking lizard, strip!” The tougher of the two chided, as she roughly scrubbed against the padlocks dangling from Cici’s labia. “No sex for you, huh?”

“Who would want her?” The other woman sneered. “She all bald and tatted up. Hell, she ain’t even got no teeth.”

The women’s insults only served to heighten Cici’s penchant for humiliation, and she began to press into the aggressive attention to her privates. A moan escaped her lips, inadvertently.

“Shit. The bitch actually likes this.” The woman scowled. “You like it rough, don’t you, strip?” She tugged roughly on the padlocks, securely fastened through Cici’s reddened labia. The other women began pulling hard against the bars through Cici’s nipples, stretching the pert breasts away from Cici’s chest.

Again, Cici moaned, the pain and humiliation bringing her ever closer to an unwanted orgasm. “Stop, please,” Cici begged.

“This bitch was actually going to strip out, did you know that?” The one asked the other.

“I can see it. I mean, hell, she ain’t gonna fit in anywhere else, yeah?” The woman drove Cici to her knees, lifting her skirt to reveal a panty-less crotch. “Let’s see what those gums can do, strip.” She pressed Cici’s mouth roughly into her hairy mound, the womanly scent strong and the taste a salty tang. She mumbled something into the enveloping labia as she was nearly suffocated.

Unable to stop the onslaught, Cici began to please the woman, her gums biting down on the wrinkled nub of flesh, while her tongue swirled around the tip. The woman pressed her harder as she grew closer, her fingers wrapped tightly around Cici’s water-slicked skull.

Three times, Cici was visited in her cell. Each time was more aggressive and more depraved than the last, as the women overseers took full advantage of the strip’s final hours in captivity. By morning, Cici was a mess. Still naked, she reeked of sex, her own juices which had been flowing profusely during her ordeal as well as those of the women that had used her, lewdly coating her body. As much as she hated what had happened, she had loved it even more.

“Chelsea Manning?” A male voice sounded from down the row of cells.

“I’m here.” Cici sighed, lifting herself from the floor.

The man looked at her through the bars of the cell, wrinkling his nose at the state of her. “Here.” He shoved a white jumpsuit through the bars. “Is someone coming for you?”

“Not that I’m aware, no,” Cici muttered.

“Then you’ll have to fend for yourself.” He unlocked the cell and walked away. “Happy birthday.”

Cici wished she could wash herself, donning the white jumpsuit over her naked body. She doubted the thin paper offered much resistance to the pungent fragrance coating her body.

The paper felt odd, and she wished she could simply stay naked, but that was no longer her fate. Ducking into a women’s restroom, she did the best she could at the sink, managing to rinse some of the stench off herself with wet paper towels.

Still barefoot, Cici exited the Intake Center, the same way she had entered exactly a year before. As she made her way toward the street, a familiar car sat idling at the curb. It was her Porsche and behind the wheel, her sister. She leered at Cici disapprovingly.

“You’re bald.” Her sister kidded, having full knowledge of her sister’s fate following Alexa Price’s expose on social media. “Don’t worry, Cici. It’ll grow back.” She twiddled a blonde wig on her finger, holding it out to her older sister. “I can’t say the same for your reputation, though, Sis.” Cici didn’t have the nerve to tell her that her social standing wasn’t the only thing permanently destroyed.

The revving of a motor across the street grabbed Cici’s attention. Her heart leaped as she realized that her sister was not the only one arrived to fetch her. The red Ferrari purred, Amoya perched within it, a questioning look on her face.

‘She must know I didn’t strip out, and yet, she still came.’ Cici pondered.

There was no decision, her fate being sealed in that single moment. Cici grabbed the collar of the jumpsuit and tore it away from her body, revealing all she had become to her younger sister. The girl’s mouth dropped open as the lithe reptilian creature stripped naked before her. “Keep the car, ‘Sis. I won’t be needing it.” Cici smiled widely, revealing her toothless grin to her sibling.

She ran across the street, her naked body exposed as it should be. As Cici disappeared inside the supercar, she left her life behind as surely as if she had stripped out. She looked over at her Mistress. “I was Chelsea Manning for a minute, but I hated it.” She sighed. “I just want to be yours.”

Amoya smiled, glancing over at the girl who still stared in disbelief from the Porsche. “Your sister?”

“Yes, she is.” Cici looked one last time at her other option.

“You were prettier than her once,” Amoya sighed, eyeing Cici critically. “but not now.” She knew how that admission would humiliate her slave, relishing how it must make her feel.

“Thank you, Miss Amoya. I love what I’ve become.” Cici squirmed.

“You are my slave, stripped out or not.” Amoya insisted. “Give yourself to me.” She caressed Cici’s head, running long slender fingers down her face and into her open mouth. They slipped effortlessly over her gums, Amoya conscious that the girl in the Porsche was still staring.

“I am yours.” Cici slurped, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. “Forever.”


4 responses to “The Stripping, Chapter Three (Conclusion)

  1. Very nicely done! I really like the thread of this being what Cici wanted all along, and I like the bit of drama injected toward the end when she might have been given to someone else. And I loved how her sister came back into the picture to remind her how beautiful she used to be.

    Great story from start to finish!

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