Get the scissors and return

“Excellent,” says Gerald amiably. “Now, cut off the top three buttons of the shirt.”

You do so, opening the shirt to reveal quite a bit of cleavage, though nothing obscene.

“That looks very sexy, Sophie. Now, cut off the bottom button.”

When you do this, the shirt becomes very dangerously exposing. Though it hangs naturally closed (given how big it is), a long stride by you, a sudden breeze, or even your sitting down might open the front of the shirt to your navel.

“I'd say that goes from looking sexy to looking slutty, wouldn’t you, Sophie?”

“Why are you doing this?” you ask. You feel that you could handle nudity better than the constantly-flashing-Gerald effect you foresee.

“Because I want you constantly aware of just how vulnerable you are, now, my sweet. When we walk to my old apartment, I don't want you to be thinking about the weather, or the old men on the park benches feeding the birds, or the rustling of the leaves. I want you to be entirely focused on your body and how close you are to exposing it to anyone who is looking.”

“You are not to touch your shirt until I give you permission, no matter what. And you are to say nothing to me except in direct response to something I say to you, no matter what. You are a slave now. My slave. Slaves are not allowed modesty. I'd march you naked through the city if it didn't mean that you'd be arrested. As it is, you will be showing your slave ass and slave pussy to random people, with no ability to stop yourself. I have a great deal of first-hand experience about what it takes to make someone into a good slave, and I will be sharing that knowledge with you, starting now.

“However,” he adds, “I can’t exactly go through town calling you slave, though, can I? And you aren’t Gerald, or Sophie. For the time being, I am going to keep calling you ‘Princess.’ We both remember what a slut the princess became after she was enslaved, don’t we? The very idea of a slave princess implies that she needs to be trained, and training you do need. You will call me John.”

Despite his humiliating reminder of your behavior as the princess in the VR, you are grateful to have a name. It is easier to think of yourself as Princess than to grapple with what name you should use for yourself.

John goes to the front door and calls “let’s get going, Princess!”