Webslut Madison Ch 22

"I can't believe I'm actually doing this," Madison said as she sat down on the bed. She looked at Dan, awaiting his reply.

"You know, you don't have to - I mean - no one is putting you up to this but you. It was your idea anyway."

"Yeah, I know," she replied. It was the second day of January, and she had just come back into town after being away visiting her family over the holidays. And now, as she had been planning, it was time to rid herself of any modest clothing. She had planned it for weeks, buying a few sexy and revealing items and wondering what her life would be like.

"It's just - you know. Going to class every single day with my midriff exposed, bellybutton out, cleavage..." she trailed off, imagining waking up in the morning and going through her closet, only to find that every single top inside bared her stomach. She imagined wanting to dress more modestly, but not having a choice, reluctantly selecting a top that was perhaps less revealing than the others, but still knowing that she was going to class looking like a whore.

"Yeah, but this is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Madison bit her lip and nodded. "Not just wanted, needed, I need to - I guess, to - make sure I always feel like - like a slut. I know I need it. My pussy craves it, I just can't stop myself." Madison looked over at the camera recording her, then back to Dan.

"So, you - you said you had some rules you were going to follow?"

"Yep. So - the first rule is - umm - my stomach. It needs to be exposed every day, 24/7. And not just like a peek. Exposed enough that it counts. So, like - at a minimum, if I put my fingers together like this," she said, holding her hand so that her index finger through her pinkie were closed together and her thumb stuck out as far as it could, "when I touch my stomach with these four fingers, they all have to touch skin. So at least four fingers of my - my stomach, on display, every day." Madison inhaled and exhaled nervously as she looked at the camera.

"And what are you going to do with the tops you have that don't - you know, ones that are too long?"

"I - well - I have to either cut them so they follow the rule, or I'm going to get rid of them - donate them. So I won't have any choice."

"What about dresses?"

"I don't wear that many, but - the ones that - you know, sentimental ones, prom dresses, formal gowns, I have a couple - those are all at my parents' house. Not like I would wear those on a walk to class anyway, but they're effectively gone. And the rest? I have to either cut them into a crop top and skirt, or cut out big holes in them to expose my stomach and probably my sides and back, like - there would just be little strips holding the top and bottom parts together."

"So every top gets a score, one, two or three. And the one point tops are ones where i can barely put four fingers on bare skin."

"And the two point tops?" Dan asked.

"Those show a little more. So ones where maybe if I put two hands on my stomach, somewhere between five and eight fingers worth of skin exposed."

"And three points?"

"Those are the more, you know - extreme ones - ones that I can put eight fingers next to each other on bare skin up and down my stomach. Some of them are short enough my bra comes out when I raise my arms. A lot of them barely cover my tits - or, that's the goal, anyway."

"And why do the points matter?"

"I can only wear two one point tops a week, Monday through Friday. And one day, Monday through Friday, I have to wear a three point top each week. It's basically to force me to show off more around campus and stuff. So if I have a big presentation, or my parents come to town, you know - I'm probably going to want to save the one points for those days."

"What if you had three big presentations in a week?"

"I guess I'd have to wear a two point top to one of them," she said, smiling.

"And what's the point of all this?"

"I want to - I guess, to - make myself look like a whore, so I always get stared at, I feel used, like a slut. A piece of meat. I want to not have a choice anymore."

"Wow, you fucking slut," Dan remarked. Madison smiled. "What about bottoms?" He asked.

"Well, I - so - first of all, no shorts that come down below my thumb," she said, placing her arms to her sides. "No skirts longer than the ends of my fingers."

"It's like the high school dress code but in reverse!" Dan said with a laugh.

"Yeah, kind of," Madison admitted. "If it was modest enough for high school it's definitely too modest for the slut I'm turning into."

"And pants?"

"Pants only if the temperature is fifty or below," she said. "Same with jeans. And - oh, nothing covering up my bellybutton. Pants - like yoga pants - have to be at least three fingers under my bellybutton."

"And what if you have an interview or something?"

"Interviews, awards, stuff like that - I can buy a new, modest outfit for it but I have to get rid of it immediately after. And I have to have a plug up my ass to remind me I'm a slut."

"I can just imagine you now, sitting in an interview with a plug up your ass, feeling like you need to strip down because you aren't used to wearing that much."

"Yeah," said Madison, laughing. "I guess I'm going to get used to dressing like a slut, won't I?"

"So, what's the plan for cold weather? I mean, it's January now - will you be able to wear jackets, coats, warm yourself up? Or just freeze your ass off in half a shirt all winter?" Dan asked.

"Well, I - honestly, I thought about it. And it's not that I don't want to do that because I'm afraid of what people will think. I'm really beyond that, you know? Beyond being - like, I can't - I'm a slut. I don't deserve to care if people think I'm a slut. You know? It's going to feel humiliating, it's supposed to, and that's good. It's what I want. It's what I deserve, really. And it really turns me on. But it's just - do I really want to freeze my ass off all winter just to prove I'm a slut? So I've decided I can wear jackets and coats when it's below 55 degrees. And only outside, the minute I come in I have to remove it. And I can't zip or button them, so my belly is going to be out all the time."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, so - when it's below freezing I can wear long coats, unzipped of course. But if it's above freezing I have to wear little cropped jackets that are a little too small, so I couldn't zip or button them even if I wanted to."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Yeah. I mean, the whole idea, and what I'm going for, is that I won't be able to cover up. Won't ever be able to fully cover my stomach, and in fact, most of the shirts I will have to wear will be so short it will be obvious - or at least seem like - I want to show it off, want to be looked at, stared at, catcalled."

"What are your professors and classmates going to think?"

"Probably there same thing everybody else will. That I'm a slut. That I want to be stared at. That I want to get fucked, used. Forced into sex. That I'm a whore. That I'm easy. That I'm showing off my body on purpose, that I'm stupid for dressing like that. Hopefully they'll even think I'm just such a horny slut I can't let myself cover up. That sort of thing."

Madison stood up and stripped down to her bra and panties as Dan asked her one more question.

"Any more rules?"

"Just that - I can't wear panties with skirts or dresses. And I have to have the word slut written somewhere on my body at all times."

"And why is that?"

"Two reasons, really. First, I need to remind myself of what I am. Even if it's totally covered, I will know it's there. And second - every time decide to fuck somebody it will be there the minute I take my clothes off, and if they didn't know it already, they'll know what I am when they see it. Hopefully they use me hard," she said, licking her lips when she finished speaking.

Now down to her bra and panties, Madison turned her attention to her closet. She first pulled out a long knit sweater.

"So, um - if you break a rule - like, say you forget to write slut on your body one day. Or you wear panties with a skirt. Or you wear jeans or a coat when it's too warm. What happens?"

"I hadn't really thought about that," Madison admitted.

"I think you should be punished for that, don't you?"

"Yeah - yeah, I really should. But it would have to be something, like - something I truly wouldn't enjoy. You know? Like - something I wouldn't fantasize about, even at my horniest."

"Yeah. Such as?"

"Like - maybe if I forget to write slut on myself, I have to write it in big letters where everyone can see it and walk around campus for an hour or something."

"Good. Although I think you might enjoy that, don't you?"

"I don't know, maybe. But of all the crimes you mentioned, so to speak, that is probably the mildest, so maybe the punishment should be, too?"

"Gotcha. And what if you - what if you wear panties with a skirt? Or button your jacket? Or wear a coat when it's too warm?"

"I don't know. Something really humiliating. Make sure I don't forget, you know. Something so disgusting even I would find it horrible."

"And what would that be?"

"I don't know."

"How about this - are you into drinking piss, or being pissed on?"

"Eww! No!"

"Perfect. If you do any of those things, you'll drink a cup - eight ounces - of your own piss. And make a video of it and explain why you're being punished. Sound good?"

"Sounds disgusting," Madison admitted. "Sure, I think that would work."

"And if you break down and buy or borrow something to cover up in a moment of weakness - what then?"

"Hmm. I really don't think I will, Dan."

"But you need to have a punishment set up in advance, I think, to keep you from being tempted. Don't you agree?"

"Yeah, probably."

"So how about this - if you break the rule saying what you can wear...hmm. You could go whore yourself out to a complete stranger for ten dollars. Or you could go to a gloryhole and suck bare dick for two hours. Or you could piss in your toilet, drink a cup of the piss water, and then scrub it clean with your tongue. Or maybe be chained or tied up and kept in a closet for 24 solid hours, naked, with nothing but water every six hours and without being allowed out to pee or eat."

"Wow. So, um - no to the first two."

"Why?"

"Because that sounds like something horny slutty Madison would actually enjoy."

"So the toilet or the closet?"

"Yeah. Maybe have to flip a coin for it?"

"Sure."

"Okay."

"So, Dan - what about this?" She said, holding up the sweater.

"Too long. Cut it or toss it."

"I think I'm going to cut it. I like this one. Can you help me?"

"Sure." Madison pulled the sweater on and handed Dan a pie of scissors.

"Here?" He asked, pointing a couple inches above her bellybutton.

"Higher."

"Okay, here?"

"Higher. I'm a slut, Dan. Cut it right under my tits."

Dan took the scissors and slowly cut the fabric, encircling her body until all she was left with was a homemade cropped sweater that, had it been any shorter, would have showed the bottom of her bra.

"This is kind of sad, you know? I mean - I have - it's sad to see these things go."

"Yeah, but you know you need this. I mean, you know you're a slut when you constantly go to class looking like a slut. Besides, this was all your idea," Dan reminded her.

"Yeah. I know you're right," she said. "It's just - you know, I guess it's not the fact that I have to look like a slut that bothers me. I actually really want that. It's making my pussy wet just thinking about it. But just cutting up or throwing away nice clothes - it's just sad in a way, you know?"

Madison returned to her closet and pulled out a three- quarter sleeve polka dot blouse. "Like this one - my parents got this for me for my birthday. And now what?"

"Cut it or toss it," Dan said with a smirk.

"I don't know, Dan!"

"If it was up to me, I'd cut it. Desecrate your birthday present, if you will. Make yourself look like a total whore in it."

"Fuck, Dan. You always know how to make me dripping wet! Okay. So how should we cut this one?"

"Like you're a whore," he said. "We're going to cut it so you have to tie it closed, and so it barely covers your tits. And in the back, so you'll have to tie it at the top, up by your neck, and at the bottom, near your bra strap, and the rest of your neck will be exposed."

Soon Madison was sporting her homemade self-tie blouse. It actually didn't look horrible because the tying mechanism almost hid the fact that the hem was raw.

"Thank you, mommy and daddy! Don't I look like a good little whore?" She asked.

Madison moved on to a section of her closet containing more high-priced, name brand items and pulled them out.

"What about these?" She asked Dan. "I don't really - I mean, these things were pricey. And nice."

"I have an idea," he said.

"What?"

"We will take them to a consignment shop. Maybe you can get a few dollars to spend on something new and slutty."

"Good idea, but - I mean, does that actually work?"

"I know a place that will give you cash for stuff like this," Dan replied. "I mean, it might only be five or six bucks for a shirt, but still - if you do that ten or twelve times," he paused.

"That would buy me two or three new slutty tops," she conceded. "Okay, let's do it!"

Next she pulled out a hoodie and just looked at Dan. "Cut it," he said. "Cut it so short your bra and your cleavage hangs out."

"Dan, are you trying to make me cum just standing here?"

"No, just need to keep you the willing whore you are."

Madison proceeded to pull out camisoles, all of which were cut to show her stomach. She pulled out some T-shirts, some of which she cut to various lengths and some of which she donated. She even cut up her high school senior shirt to show a few inches of midriff, even though some of her classmates' names disappeared from what was left of the garment. And of course, some of her tops were slutty enough to keep as they were, especially the newer ones. Madison realized she hadn't bought anything but slutty clothes for months.

Finally, the task was done, after an afternoon of sorting and cutting. There was a pile for donating, which Dan volunteered to remove and take to the donation him, and a pile for the consignment shop, and the rest of the clothes that were not revealing enough had been modified and returned to the closet, which had maybe a little more than half its original contents.

"Fuck, Dan, I - all I have left - I look like a slut no matter what!"

"Wasn't that the idea?"

"Yeah, but - Dan! What am I going to wear to class on Monday! It's going to be cold, it's January!"

"I guess all our classmates will see how much you crave the attention, how you need to show off your body even in the winter. How much of a slut you are."

"I'm so turned on - hey, Dan, fuck it - I'm going to grab a bite to eat. Will you - I mean - will you write slut on my stomach before I go?"

"Sure," he said with a laugh.

"And Dan - I mean - where everyone can see it. I don't give a fuck anymore, or maybe I'm too horny. I just want everyone to know."

"Sure thing. Need some company?"

"Not this time. I think a random dick in my ass is what I need for this one."

Dan shook his head. He gave Madison a kiss. "You are really a dirty fucking slut."

"I know. And pretty soon the whole school is going to know."

"If they don't already," Dan countered.

"So what are you going to do when half the guys in class want to fuck you?" He continued.

"I don't know," she said as she bit her lip.

"Let them?" Dan picked up a marker and wrote the requested word just below Madison's navel.

"Do you really think I'll be able to stop myself from doing that?"

"No," he said.

"Me either."

"Okay, well - have fun at dinner," he said. And with that, he was gone.

Monday rolled around and Madison agonized for what seemed like hours before finally settling on an outfit. It was a balmy thirty-five degrees out, but that wasn't the issue. It was just that everything she pulled out of her closet was just too revealing. Of course, Madison, like just about any cute college girl, was used to occasionally wearing midriff-baring tops. She wore them regularly when she went out to clubs and parties, and occasionally showed a little midriff in class - nothing too extreme, of course. But now, half her clothes seemed too ridiculous to wear to class even in warmer weather, and the other half might have been passable as normal if the weather was warm - but this was January.

And on top of that, Madison knew that if she did choose a less-revealing top, she would just be setting herself up to be forced to wear something ridiculous later in the week. She couldn't win.

So Madison tried on one revealing top after another - a black, long-sleeve crop polo that barely covered her tits, a frilly lavender button-front top that had been cut in half, a tan sweater that maybe showed three inches of midriff. "No," she said almost instantly to the black one. "Too short." She knew she'd have to wear something like that by the end of the week, and her heart pounded thinking about it, and her pussy throbbed and dripped - but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Not on day one.

"People are going to know I did it on purpose - like I want to show off - if I wear the cut up one," she thought as she looked at the lavender one. "So, no." She tried more options, rejecting them for one reason or another, mostly because they were too revealing. And then she argued with herself. "What if it gets freezing cold at the end of the week and I'm stuck in something super tiny?" She thought. But in the end, it was a chance she decided to take, and she soon found herself pulling the tan sweater over her head.

Madison paired the sweater with a pair of tight black jeans. Even though she was thin, the jeans squeezed her hips and lower stomach, and the belt she added with a silver buckle did not help any. She looked at herself. "What a fucking slut, Madison. And just think. This is as good as it gets. It just gets more revealing from here." She looked herself up and down. "What kind of whore goes to class wearing this in 35-degree weather?" She asked herself. But she knew she didn't have a choice. Even if she had a sudden change of heart, every top she owned was at least as revealing.

Before she left, Madison pulled up her shirt and wrote "slut" under her tits. She pulled her shirt down and pondered whether the letters could be seen through the knit material, but as it turned out, she was fine. Checking the weather again, she mumbled to herself. "Above freezing," she muttered. "Tiny jacket it is." She grabbed a black denim jacket, at least a size too small and cropped just as short as her sweater, that she couldn't even come close to buttoning.

"Okay, guys, guess you can all stare at me," she said to her reflection in the mirror. "And keep watching, because it just gets more slutty." She took a deep breath and blew herself a kiss, and headed to class.

Most of the guys in her class couldn't take their eyes off her. She sat toward the front, and as soon as she walked on the door, she felt their gaze on her stomach. Madison tried to nonchalantly turn around and sit down, as if she wasn't the least-dressed girl in class and she didn't have "slut" written under her sweater, but she knew what she was and what kind of reaction she was getting. When she sat, her sweater rode up in the back and provided a couple more inches of skin to stare at, even if most of the guys could no longer see her stomach.

Madison fidgeted a lot in class. She knew guys behind her were staring at her exposed back. Feeling like a slut, she had to remind herself to focus, and remind herself that she had better get used to it because this was her life from now on, and by the end of the week she would be forced to wear much more revealing tops. That thought drove her crazy, and all of the sudden she became aroused and started to crave it.