Two Doors is one of 30 stories collected in my e-book Mindfuck – Stories of Psychological Erotica, available for only $3.99 USD at my creator site. Purchases allow me to continue creating new, free erotica. (Click here to view.)
Adriana was attending her first session with psychologist Dr Horne, to deal with problems at work. She felt the men in her workplace didn’t respect her, and she was constantly getting into fights with them. She’d developed a reputation as “the difficult bitch”, and if she didn’t do something soon, her mental health was going to suffer, *and* she’d likely be up on disciplinary proceedings at work.
She sat in the richly-appointed waiting room of the psychologist’s office, browsing the internet on her phone, until the pretty receptionist called her name. But when she rose to enter Dr Horne’s office, she stopped, taken aback by the entrance.
There were two doors to Dr Horne’s office. The first was a perfectly normal wooden door, bearing his name, and then below it the words “Entrance for People”.
The other door, to the right of it, was a large dog-door, at floor level. It had a silhouette of a crawling naked woman in high-heels on it, bare tits pointing downwards, and it read, “Entrance for Sluts (remove panties)”.
She paused, blushing, and looked at the receptionist. “Which door do I use?” she asked.
The receptionist looked at her oddly. “Do you have to ask?” she replied.
Adriana blushed even brighter red. Of course she didn’t – or did she? The receptionist’s answer shouldn’t be unclear. She was a person. Of course she would go through the normal door. No one would expect her to crawl through a dog door into the office of a man she’d never met – especially with no panties on.
Only, *was* that what the receptionist meant? Did she think Adriana was so obviously a slut that she’d use the slut door? Adriana wished she’d dressed more conservatively. She was wearing a mini-skirt, a tight shirt, and high heels – but it was work appropriate. She wasn’t a *slut*.
Except that she was getting wet. She was getting wet, standing here, trying to convince herself she deserved to use a door marked “people”. Was that something a non-slut would do – get wet in a psychologist’s office? It wasn’t – so what did that make her?
“What happens if I use the door?” asked Adriana. She hadn’t specified which door. She thought maybe she could guess which one the receptionist thought she should go through from the answer.
“If you use the *people* door,” said the receptionist, pointedly, “Dr Horne will talk to you about your problems at work, and make a plan where you set appropriate boundaries to get everyone to recognise you as a *person*, and where you in turn give them respect as your *peers*.”
Adriana bit her lip. She looked at the doors again. She looked from one to the other. Her gaze kept falling on the dog door. “Entrance for Sluts (remove panties).” Thinking of her panties, she realised they were getting quite wet. Her pussy was throbbing. Maybe she didn’t want to go through any door. Maybe she wanted to go to the ladies’ restrooms and just take care of this need she was developing between her legs… but then they’d know she couldn’t decide. They’d know she didn’t immediately pick the “people” door. She’d already spent too long. What kind of woman didn’t immediately use the door marked “people”? What kind of woman had to *think* about it?
“And… what happens if I use the other door?” she asked, in a small voice.
The receptionist’s smile twisted into a smirk of contempt. “Women who use the *slut* door have real problems. They’re fucked up. Anyone who would take off their panties and crawl through the dog door needs *help*. No one who does that can be trusted to make decisions. They need someone to just tell them what to do, because they’re so pathetic.”
“Oh,” said Adriana. Her cunt was pounding, throbbing. Her nipples were rock hard. She felt pale, like she might faint.
“I imagine if a girl with your problems went through the *slut* door, Dr Horne would tell them that all the men were *right* to disrespect them,” said the receptionist. “He would tell them that their real problem was that they hadn’t accepted the fact that they were a worthless fucktoy, because they still thought they deserved to be treated like people. I imagine he’d help a girl like that realise that her proper place is on all fours, naked, sucking a cock, and being degraded. I imagine he’d use very *vigorous* methods to make that happen.”
Adriana moaned. She looked at the “people” door, and willed herself to walk towards it.
She tried again. She was people. She wasn’t some slut. It was ridiculous that anyone would even *have* that other door there. She would go through the “people” door.
“Having trouble?” said the receptionist, and the cruel little snigger in her voice was finally too much for Adriana.
“I’m sorry,” she heard herself mumble, and blushing bright red and wishing she could be invisible, she pulled her panties out from under her skirt, down her legs, and stepped out of them. She looked at the slutty little lace garment, its crotch soaked with her pussy juices, and decided to leave it on the floor.
Then, to the open laughter of the receptionist, she got down on all fours like a dog – her skirt didn’t cover her pussy in this position, and that just made her even wetter – and slowly, she crawled through the door that, deep down, she knew she deserved…