Chapter One: A Lurking Threat

Cindy

“I’m coming!” I shouted in frustration, willing the horn of the car to just stop honking. But of course, Cathy was just as headstrong as me, and wouldn’t stop until I got bloody out.

Sigh.

In a hurry, I grabbed my backpack, say hi to Mum in passing, and got out the front door.

Ugh. I hated waking up early. I thought having my big sister Cathy drive me to school would make my life easier, not harder! Instead, today I found myself leaving an hour earlier than usual.

In fairness, that wasn’t her fault. I reminded myself not to be a pain to her on her first day on the new job. She may vouch for me to get the same profession one day, so I better stay on her good side, even if I wanted to slap her right now.

I made my way to the glimmering red BMW parked by the sidewalk – her fianceé’s gift, that. Say what you will about Cathy, but she’s always known how to wrap men around her little finger. To hear her talk, Richard barely got any sex with her, and always on her terms anyway.

He wasn’t entirely toothless. He’d forced Cathy to quit her profitable modelling career, which was the whole reason why she was now a teacher. But in my view, if he found himself getting her a brand new car, Cathy was clearly still coming out ahead.

I had personally found out that girls were just as easily manipulated, though. So maybe this just ran in the family. Cathy and Cindy, the master manipulators!

I chuckled to myself, and ducked to get into the car.

“Hey sis!” I said, tittering. “Or should I call you… teacher?”

Cathy turned to look at me, and I have to say, she played the part of the stunningly beautiful young teacher to a T. She managed to pull off an attractive, and yet completely professional look. I always felt a little like I was in her shadow – but it wasn’t that big of a deal to be honest. She drew attention from the boys, and my focus was very much on the girls – unbeknownst to her.

She considered me with her clever green eyes, her blond hair tucked nicely into a bun that sharpened her facial features. I could see the smoldering ambition in those eyes. In that we were much alike, Cathy and I. The world was our oyster, and we took no prisoners.

At 25, Cathy was seven years older than me, and a newly recruited teacher at Crawford High, teaching English Literature. All the guys in my class were falling all over themselves for Cathy already, which annoyed me to no end, since I had to listen to the lewdest, most sexist comments imaginable about my own sister.

Anyone in my social circle quickly learned that such behavior would not be tolerated. I was a bossy bitch, and I knew it, but so what? It worked for me. Everyone else would either fall in line, or find someone else to hang out. And that was that.

“Are you all ready to go?” Cathy asked, snapping me from my reverie.

“Yeah,” I said. Her first class was in an hour – I knew very well, since I was in it! But apparently the principal, Mr Burns, wanted to have a chat with Cathy first thing in the morning.

I pitied her. Burns was a creep, a serial ogler of cheerleaders and female teachers alike, a person so slimy that even the jocks found him repulsive. As it was, he’d ruined two people’s morning, rather than just one. I’d had to get out of bed early because of him.

Typical asshole.

As the car followed the winding road towards Crawford High, I wondered how Cathy would fare, working with him. She was as convinced a feminist as they come, hard but fair with her pupils, and used to being taken seriously at all times… the exact opposite of what Burns expected from his female employees.

But I knew she would be fine. Cathy and I, we’re cut from the same cloth. No matter what social circle we’re in, we’re the bosses. I chuckled to myself, thinking about last week – I’d stolen Irene’s homework, claimed the credit, and watched the simmering rage in her eyes. I was more popular than her, so the bitch couldn’t touch me, no matter how many daggers she stared at me. I loved that.

Cathy was just as tough as me. That reassured me greatly. No matter what he threw at her, she would handle Burns just fine.

***

John

John Burns was a methodical man.

He’d spent the last five minutes working over the stack of papers on his desk, making sure they were perfectly aligned and symmetrical. It was fussy, of course, but in a way, that kind of low-level activity allowed his mind to wander on his plans.

And besides, he liked to keep the office tidy. Orderly. Well-functioning.

Yes, he wasn’t a perfectionist. His once-formidable body had begun to sag with age, and his beer belly pressed annoyingly against the edge of the desk. His hair had receded, his sight had slightly worsened, and his palms and forehead started sweating with irritating ease.

He was no fool, and he knew what he must look like. The very image of a petty male pencil-pusher with his best years behind him, on the downward glide path towards retirement.

But his mind… Burns had kept that one sharp. People forgot that to their peril. To underestimate him was to expose a deadly flank he would exploit. Countless teachers and would-be challengers had learned that to their sorrow, over the fifteen years of his tenure as principal of Crawford High.

In fact, his political control over the school had never been greater than this. He manipulated tenders and secured bids for his friends and associates. He limited the teachers’ autonomy as much as he could, and dished out suspensions and punishments to students as he saw fit.

Yes, he was a petty tyrant. But Crawford High was his petty kingdom.

Even still, after fifteen years, the challengers lined up.

Cathy Cooper was the latest. In a way, she was nothing he hadn’t faced before. She married her serious feminist credentials with the upper-class resources and background that enabled her to be formidable. Like many of her predecessors, surely she’d try to, if not get him removed, at least limit his authority over the school, and most certainly enforce propriety in the workplace.

All those predecessors had failed. Burns was no mysogynist, truly, but a sadistic part of him had enjoyed the defeated look in their eyes, when they realised they would have to spend their lives in the workplace taking orders from a man they despised.

He also knew he was lecherous, no doubt about that. Hell, the very first time he became aware of Cathy Cooper, during her final year, his first thought was that she was extremely fuckable.

Now she was here, no longer a model, and a teacher under his employ. So of course he’d made sure to arrange an appointment with her right before her first day in class. She probably expected him to want to set some ground rules, right from the start.

In a way, that was true, of course. But this time, he had something special planned. He licked his lips in anticipation.

Again, he had to remind himself. He was no mysogynist.

Truly.

No matter how much resentment he felt towards his ex-wife, or how much frustration he harboured towards the increasingly emboldened female teachers who treated him like he was a social disease to be eradicated from the school.

But he was sexually frustrated. He was a sadist. And the delicious contrapasso of breaking a feminist in his own office was too much for him to resist. And he had just the tool to do it.

For the tenth time since sitting at his desk, his fingers felt for his pocket, found the familiar, reassuring bulge of the object he’d carried with him from his latest trip. Yes, it was there. That was what he needed to get started.

Of course, the stone by itself couldn’t do miracles, or enslave Cathy for him. It would put the target in the right frame of mind, but then Burns would have to do the hard work himself in the old-fashioned way, gradually, and over a prolonged period of time.

But that was only a trifling concern. After all…

He’d always been a methodical man.

***

Cathy

I sat impatiently in the stuffy old chair, waiting for Burns to look up from his meticulously piled stack of papers and give me the light of day.

It was rude, but entirely expected of him to call me in his office, and then keep me waiting. Such a predictable powerplay. Well, it wasn’t going to work on me. I had a lecture to give, and I would be getting out of this chair at the prescribed time, whether he was done with me or not.

I breathed in, and wrinkled my nose in disgust. God, this office reeked of smoke – seriously, who smoked indoors anymore these days? Wasn’t that illegal? There was a hint of man-sweat too, and a stuffiness typical of an office whose windows have clearly not been opened in months.

I was just about to get out of the chair and go open the window myself when Burns finally looked up.

Actually, that’s not the right expression. That would imply he looked at me straight in the eye. But no, the creep virtually undressed me with his male gaze, as he always did. I’d chosen very conservative professional clothing for precisely this reason, but apparently that wasn’t enough to stop him from ogling.

I wanted to get this meeting done in a hurry, so I wasn’t going to harangue him about it now… but his time would come.

There was no more place for old pigs like him in positions of power in this country, certainly not if he behaved like this. It wouldn’t go unchallenged anymore. He would be held accountable. I would make sure of it.

“Miss Cooper,” he said, his voice raspy from the smoke. “Thanks for coming in. I wanted to personally welcome you to Crawford High as a teacher!”

“Thanks. Are we done?” I snapped, rolling my eyes. Men in positions of power, or men who are behaving inappropriately, often hide behind a façade of politeness and formality. That way, if you call them out on their predatory behaviour, you’re the crazy, hysterical girl who’s making a big deal out of nothing.

It was a well-known tactic. He probably thought of himself as a master manipulator for using it, but clearly he underestimated my generation and how done we were with sexual harassment of this kind. I’d burst his bubble at every turn. I wouldn’t give him the time of day.

“Just about,” he said, unfazed by the rudeness of my response. I frowned, frustrated that I didn’t destabilise him more. Was he without shame? Or maybe he was such a professional ogler that he was used to female staff lashing out at him?

“There’s one more thing, just to ensure we’re on the same page. We want to start this boss-employee relationship on the right foot.”

I theatrically arched an eyebrow. I didn’t like the emphasis he put on the words boss and employee. Yes, he may be the Principal, but that didn’t authorise him to do anything illegal, or place me in any personal obligation towards him. I wasn’t in awe of him. The sooner he understood it, the better for everybody.

If he was bothered by my stonewalling silence, he didn’t show it. Instead, he fumbled into a pocket of his shirt, droning on.

“I was in Mexico during the summer break,” he said, his eyes studying me. “Cheaper whores, if you know where to look.”

I leaned back, in spite of myself. What? How had this man survived in this position all these years, while being this brazen? Did he want me to slap his ass with a sexual harassment lawsuit on my first day? Because I totally would, if he carried on like this.

“I think I’m going to go,” I said, gathering my purse and preparing to rise – but Burns kept talking, ignoring me.

“I found a trinket,” he said, pulling something out of his pocket. It was circular, like a coin, but way too irregular to be an actual coin – probably a small stone, covered in deep, green moss.

“The guy selling it was full of big words about what it could do,” he said, “and I bought it on a whim. I never thought it would actually…” he shook his head, as if in disbelief.

By that point, I was standing. I gave Burns one long look of contempt.

“You had me come in here to talk about your exploitation of foreign sex workers, and superstitious stones you bought from the locals? I’m sorry to say this working relationship isn’t off to a good start, Mr Burns.”

Burns looked at me with a feral smirk, holding the stone in his fingers. Then, without looking away from me, he sent it spinning into the air.

Instantly, I couldn’t look away – the way you can’t look away from a car crash taking place right before your eyes. It’s not that you feel coerced, or anything, the spectacle just happens to… draw your full focus.

The stone flipped and turned in the air, reflecting the sunlight, sending it in different directions. That was odd. With moss covering the surface, the rock shouldn’t be reflective.

Suddenly, anxiety spiked in my chest, as my heart started beating faster. Was I getting some fundamental fact about physics and light wrong? If anyone discovered I was that ignorant, I would surely be removed from my teaching position!

I wanted to shoot a suspicious look at Burns. That was his plan, wasn’t it? To make me look dumb and foolish so he could fire me? But of course, my eyes were still fixed on the stone.

It rotated again, sending the light in a different direction. Oh God. What if I lost my job? I couldn’t get back into modelling, Richard wouldn’t allow it, I’d be stuck at home… he’s learning to live with my feminism but he’s an old-fashioned guy, if I don’t work he’s going to start seeing me as housewife material…

Again, the stone spun, with an elegance I marvelled at. Unfortunately, Burns had pulled one over me. The knot of dread in my stomach, the fear making my face flush, they meant I wouldn’t go ahead and openly challenge him like I was planning to.

I couldn’t let him fire me. I couldn’t lose this job!

The stone landed back on the desk with a heavy thud, an ominous sound whose finality sent a shiver of fear trickling down my spine, like insects running across my back.

Burns looked at me intensely for a long time, without speaking. Then, he spoke slowly and clearly.

“That’s Sir to you, Cathy.”

I noticed he’d dropped the Miss Cooper, which made me flush with humiliation and rage, but this wasn’t the time to defy him. So – hating every second of it – I respectfully nodded, and in a demure voice, I said, “Yes, Sir.”

I will never forget the triumphant smile he radiated in my direction when I said that.

“Go to your lecture,” he told me, dismissing me with a wave of his hand like I was a gopher, which made me ball my hands into fists. “You’ll be back at the end of the work day. We’ll make this a regular appointment. We have a lot to discuss, if we want this working relationship to proceed smoothly.”

There was no mistaking the sadistic glint in his eyes as he said that. I tried to tell him no, directly or indirectly, but every time I pictured the rest of the conversation in my head, images flashed before my eyes, unbidden.

Me, fired. Me, publicly shamed over my failure at being a teacher, after holding so much promise. Richard, shaking his head, deciding to never take me seriously again.

I was too afraid to protest. And so, for now, I swallowed my pride, and gave Mr Burns what he wanted.

“Of course,” I said, my nails digging into my palms in rage. “… Sir.”

Chapter Two: A Power Struggle

Cathy

Once again, I found myself sitting in a stuffy chair that had seen better days.

Every day, I would come to school, drop Cindy off, and go into Burns’ office. Cindy was increasingly mad at me for having her wake up an hour in advance every morning, and couldn’t understand why I was letting Burns effectively add an hour to my work day every single day.

I wanted to reach out to her, explain what was going on. Ask for help. Hell, even that smarted a little: my sister was as brash and confident as me… which was why I chafed at the implicit admission of weakness. What kind of weakling needs her younger sister’s help to deal with her own boss?

Still, every time I tried to utter a word, it died in my throat. The fear I had first felt when contemplating the stone gripped my heart. I was acutely aware – one might say obsessed – that Burns might get me fired.

So I waved Cindy’s protests away with lame excuses. She saw right through me, but kept quiet.

Damn Burns! Not only was he getting one up on me at work, he was causing my relationship with my sister to shift already. She respected me a bit less for not standing up to him, I could sense that.

If only she knew how bad things really were…

The office was a constant sensory assault. Lingering smoke, old leather, man-sweat, and stuffiness combined to create an aggressive aroma that made me wince every time I stepped in.

The big mahogany desk seemed more intimidating than it once was, too. The meticulously stacked paper greeting me atop his desk was inconsequential to me the first time I came in here, but it looked different to me now… a sign that Burns liked to keep things orderly.

Under control.

With a timid gulp, I realised he saw me the same way he did the office furniture. That’s  why he liked to check, on a daily basis, that I conformed to his expectations.

That was objectifying in a way I found disgusting and offensive to everything I believed in. No man like him should be allowed to hold power over anyone, especially a woman, not in this day and age.

And yet… I was here every morning.

“Stand back up,” Burns told me. The man himself had been sitting behind the desk, worrying at the cigarette between his lips. “You should know enough to do it yourself by now.”

I balled my hands into fists of impotent rage. The new ritual Burns had devised for me was infuriating.

Like every day for the past week, I stood up, looking at the ground as instructed. Burns contemplated me, then got out of the chair with a grunt.

“Clothing inspection,” he said.

“Thank you Sir,” I muttered under my breath, as requested.

If I thought Burns ogled me beforehand, I’d literally seen nothing yet.

For the past week, every day, he inspected my clothing choices. This included verifying the length of my skirt, the height of my heels, and the exposure of my cleavage. As my boss, he claimed authority over my dress code… except his dress code wasn’t designed with workplace propriety in mind.

He enforced high heels, short skirts, and a generous decolleté. Clearly, he expected this would make me look like a floozy, a sluttily-dressed girl who didn’t know the first thing about being a teacher.

In this area however, I managed to defy him, at least in part. After all, if I dressed too inappropriately, I would put my job in jeopardy – I’d be a review away from being suspended, Burns or not.

And so, while I couldn’t disobey him directly, I did exploit the gray area. I dressed in a way that met his formal requirements, and said sexy, while still looking respectable.

I could see the gears working in his head as he examined my skirt length. His fingers brushed against my thigh, making me flinch in disgust. It was a very small victory, but it was better than nothing.

Just a little better, though. I still felt like so many women before me must have felt, completely objectified in their own workplace, subject to the whims of a male tyrant. The slimy bastard even had a ruler to measure every inch of my clothes with absolute precision! And a notepad where to jot it down!

“You pass,” he told me with a grunt. I could see he wasn’t entirely happy, and that made me stick my chin up in pride. But he’d still exercised his authority over me, and that was good enough for him, I guess.

“Now,” he said, sitting heavily back into his chair and fishing something out of the pocket. “Let’s pick up where we left off.”

With theatrical flair, he placed the damnable stone at the center of the desk, capturing my attention.

Ugh. Such a typical power move, reminding me of my embarassment with the stone on my very first day. That was the first time I realised how vulnerable I was, how easily I could be displaced from my coveted teaching position.

I’ve never been one to cower in fear of past embarassments, but oddly enough, the stone always brought me back to the same mindspace. All of a sudden I felt like a helpless, incompetent schoolgirl – like my only hope to retain my job was for nobody to notice how incompetent I was.

I kept my gaze on the stone, squirming uncomfortably. No wonder Burns decided to use it every day, if it unsettled me so easily. He liked to have me stare at the stone while instructing me in proper workplace etiquette, as he liked to call it.

I should always call him Sir. I should always be prim and proper in my posture, my voice should be kept unassumingly low, and each morning I would be back here for another professional training session with him. Contextually, I was to submit myself to a clothing inspection.

I knew all of this already, and I only half-listened… except that made anxiety spike through my chest, as I realised that my job could literally hang on whether I followed Burns’ instructions or not. Besides, they weren’t always exactly the same.

To me, it seemed like he added a new instruction every few days.

He must have noticed my panic and confusion, because he broke off his recitation of my duties.

“I know this can be a bit overwhelming for a new employee,” he said, with the condescending tone overbearing men always get with women they underestimate. I gritted my teeth in anger. “But it’s easier than you think, trust me. Just look at the stone, and listen carefully.”

And so I did. I focused on the stone – it didn’t make the fear for my job go away, on the contrary, it intensified it – but my anger receded to a secluded corner of my brain. It was just as powerful, I was simply ignoring it for now.

It threatened to rear its head again when, in a spike of consciousness, I heard Burns say that I “should always respond deferentially to male aggression and authority”.

What kind of bullshit instruction was that? That had nothing to do with the workplace at all! Hell, it didn’t even directly relate to Burns – he had power over me because he was my boss, not because of his gender!

Still, I had to calm down. I had to keep my job. That was my priority. I could behave as I wished when Burns wasn’t looking, and I’d keep being the feminist egalitarian I’ve always been, no matter what he had to say in here. I just had to put up with him to keep teaching here. That was all.

And with that final rationalisation, I oriented my focus back to the stone.

And let Burns’ words worm their way into my mind.

By the time I left his office, ready for class, I was nominally free –  but I still had to contend with a strange, yet now familiar emptiness inside. No matter what anybody else tells you, being afraid all the time is exhausting.

I felt like I was walking on a tightrope every day, trying to balance Burns’ encroachment of my personal autonomy while still keeping my job. All this stressing about survival ensured that I had very few mental energies left to do my, you know, actual job.

I once dreamed of standing before a classroom, it was my element. Now, I kept feeling a little tug in my brain, pointing me back towards my anxieties, even when I was teaching.

Still. Cindy’s class was up next, and she threw me a radiant smile when I entered the classroom. Her nemesis, Irene, was staring daggers at her, but I was proud of little sis for standing up for herself. The Cooper sisters had a go-get-it attitude, and let nobody doubt that!

That smile warmed me up inside a little. Not all was lost yet, not by a long stretch of the imagination.

Besides… I was young. And Burns wouldn’t be here forever.

No matter his antics, I would endure.

I launched into a lecture on Chaucer and Bath. Just doing this made me feel so much more like myself. The vocabulary I had to use, the arguments I made, the past knowledge I recalled and how it connected to my own perspective… it was rinvigorating.

It didn’t kill the fear. But it gave me a little bit of hope.

About halfway through the lecture, however, I received my first student challenge of the day. And of course, it had to be from Nick fucking Foster…

He lifted his hand in the air, with a wicked grin on his face, loudly chewing on gum all the while. I saw his eyes darting this way and that – checking whether the rest of the class was looking at him.

He probably thought himself incomparably subtle, but really, he was an open book. That body language always preceded one of his class-clown stunts.

I’d always shot him down in the past – even slapped his jock ass with a couple detentions where they hurt the most, making him miss two games. Unfortunately, ever since those detentions, he had decided he was on a personal mission to make my teaching life a living hell.

Without waiting for me to acknowledge him, he started speaking over me, with classic jock confidence.

“That’s cool and all, teach, but I need a toilet break. Be right back!”

That wasn’t even phrased as a request, let alone a polite one! He couldn’t just get up and leave the room! I fumed, rallying my focus to shoot him down and maybe slap him with a third detention…

But then I remembered Burns’ words.

You will always defer to male aggression and authority…

And here was a male specimen – in fact, a peak example of toxic masculinity – undermining my authority in the classroom, and being aggressive with me.

Surely this wouldn’t count? Surely Burns would want me to do my job, and do it well. That was the whole point of him exercising his stern authority over me. It was slimy, gross, and demeaning, but it was all about keeping things orderly.

Wasn’t it?

I felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. Did I risk my job by letting Nick Foster walk all over me? Or did I risk it by standing up to him?

The fear and the indecision paralysed me. Maybe, with an extra few minutes, I would have come to a decision, but Nick didn’t give me the luxury of time. He simply stood up, and made to leave.

“Five minutes,” I blurted out, trying not to lose control of the situation – but I said that in a ridiculous whisper of a voice I didn’t even know I was capable of.

“Whatever,” Nick said, his grin now extending from ear to ear.

As the classroom door slammed behind him, I could see Cindy’s eyes narrow in my direction. Behind her, Irene sat smiling. The optimism I felt during class evaporated at the sight, and as I contemplated my future, the only emotion I could muster was dread.

***

John

John Burns had to give it to Cathy: she was smart.

He’d known how the stone worked, in theory. He’d known it wouldn’t simply enslave Cathy for him, that he’d have to saddle-break her the old-fashioned way. But he hadn’t fully grasped what that meant, in practice.

The clothing inspections were a case in point.

The stone filled its victim with irrational fear – in his estimation, Cathy’s brain was filtering it as fear of losing her job. That was all well and good, an excellent lever to manipulate any subject into compliance.

But… it had its limits.

When he asked Cathy to adopt a slutty dress code, he’d inadvertedly created a conflict of instructions. She couldn’t flatly refused – it would threaten her job. But she also couldn’t go all the way like he wanted, because that would also threaten her job.

In that narrow space between two contradictions, she’d found a compromise that gave him what he wanted, but still gave her the professional respectability she clearly valued.

Smart. John was impressed.

Of course, that just made it even more sadistically fun to break the girl, and put her in her place.

He smiled to himself, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow. Cathy still underestimated him, even now that he had his hooks sunk into her to levels that she would have considered unimaginable before being influenced by the stone.

She thought he’d be frustrated by her defiance.

She didn’t understand. He wasn’t out for some mindless diversion before retirement. Oh no.

He was playing for keeps.

Every little setback like this simply taught him more about the stone, about how it functioned. It was a learning opportunity. Cathy might feel content for now, but he was only going to get better at it.

His grip on her would continue to tighten. Her room for maneuver would continue to shrink. He simply had to figure out how to leverage the stone-induced fear into even more humiliations. How to sap her confidence, so he could really begin the process of destroying her.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, and a smile started tugging at his lips.

An idea was forming in his mind. One he liked very much.

***

Cathy

The following morning, I was back in Burns’ office.

After the humiliating experience in the classroom yesterday, I could notice that my outward behaviour was more subdued, if only by a little. I felt undermined in my confidence. I knew I’d get it back – it was naive of me to expect everything to be smooth sailing from the very first day, I suppose.

But still, yesterday’s events weighed on my mind as Burns once more inspected my clothing. Once again, it was sexy, but professional. Just thinking about this small victory actually reinvigorated my spirits a little.

I was still Cathy fucking Cooper. I wouldn’t break so easily.

Burns stepped away from me and returned to his chair… and that’s when I first noticed that something was wrong.

There was something… obscene in the way he sat back into his chair, leering at me with the self-satisfied grin of the cat who got the cream.

“You know, Cathy,” he said, his fingers rubbing the stone on the desk. Which instantly commanded my full, unwavering, and somewhat terrified attention. “I think I should put you on academic probation.”

“No!” I croaked, blushing at how pathetic I sounded. Was this about yesterday’s confrontation with Nick? How had he got wind of that already?

I gathered myself, but only a little. I realised I sounded like a petulant child as I blurted out, “Sir, why? I’ve only just started!”

“Your performance thus far hasn’t been very satisfying,” he said, lifting the stone in his fingers, playing with it. Each spin between his deft fingers reminding me that my entire career depended on this man.

This annoying, infuriating, sexist man who refused to give me specifics about what I had supposedly done wrong. How could I even improve myself if he refused me any feedback?

I went pale. Without feedback, no self-improvement. And without self-improvement…

No job.

“Please, Sir,” I asked, my voice laced with panic, “give me feedback! Give me a chance to get better!”

Burns made an exaggerated show of giving my idea fair consideration. Stroking his chin, he said, in a wry tone, “I suppose there’s a way you could convince me to give you more time to prove yourself. Extend my review, so to speak.”

He gave me a long, plaintive look.

Ah. So this is what this was about, then.

Of course he wasn’t giving me any feedback. There was no feedback to give.

But did that change my situation, even by one bit? My professional future still depended on his approval. And his approval depended on…

Even now, his lecherous impulse shone brightly through his leering face.

I didn’t need to guess at what he was suggesting. The thought alone made me flinch in terror. I wanted to get out of the chair, scream, and get out of his office.

I wanted to sue him for sexual harassment. Denounce him on Twitter. Bring the entire #MeToo wrath down upon his sweaty balding head. Barely a week of inappropriately bossing me around, and he was already leveraging his authority to get sexual favours? What a fucking pig.

But I did none of that.

I watched the stone.

A part of me – a small, remote, very frightened and very girly part of me – knew that so many before me had gone up against him, and failed. Was I really willing to risk it? What if I lost my job and the harassment complaint went his way? No one would ever even consider hiring me again!

The walls were closing in around me. It felt like Burns was shutting off every other option available to me by doing nothing, except sitting in the chair and playing with his damn stone.

With a gulp, I placed my purse on the empty chair in front of me, walked my way around to Burns’ side of the desk… and descended to my knees.

Deep in the turmoil of what was without doubt my first instance of sexual abuse in the workplace, and just a week into my employment, I felt a weirdly detached sense of calm. Like I was an observer outside my own body.

I was dissociating. I could see the significance behind my act. Here I was, dressed in clothing chosen by my boss, being threatened with termination, and exploited for sexual favours without my consent.

Here I was, kneeling before a man. It was hugely significant. Just kneeling to give a blowjob is a practical thing. But kneeling to give your boss a blowjob you don’t want to give, well… that’s submission.

Worse than that. It’s gender-coded submission.

It’s also criminal.

Time stretched and dilated around me. It felt like ages before my knees hit the floor, and they did so with a thump whose finality made my heart race.

Somehow I felt that if only I could prevent the stone from intruding into my thoughts all the time, I’d have a clear enough head to get up and walk away. To make full use of my rights. To get his ass thrown in jail.

But that was silly, of course. The stone was just an object, it had no actual ability to influence me. It’s just that at this point I associated it with Burns’ power plays. I was giving in because I was weak, what other explanation was there?

I always swore myself that I wouldn’t take this lying down if it ever happened, and yet here I am, on my knees, staring up at Burns’ curved belly while his hands fish his cock out from his pants.

He was bigger than I expected – not that it did anything for me, of course. This wasn’t porn.

Still, a part of me was well aware of what this must look like. This large, fleshy man towering above me in his leather chair, and me, the small girl out of her depth, kneeling most femininely before him.

Looking up at him, with his cock front and centre in my field of view.

Seen from above, his thighs would frame my face, and I would seem to be kneeling in worship at the altar of cock. Placing myself below it, in a powerful symbol of subjugation.

The visual image made me grit my teeth so hard that even Burns could hear it. The strong, musky man-smell emanating from his cock – already at full mast – assaulted my nostrils, the way he would soon assault my mouth.

I felt violated in so many different ways.

“Sir,” I said feebly, in a weak attempt to stave off the inevitable, his cock already dangling mere inches from my lips. “I have a boyfriend…”

The appeal itself was desperate, and wrong in its own way. My own lack of consent should have been enough. Citing my boyfriend as if he was the male who owned me, and Burns was supposed to respect him rather than me, was a defense strategy straight out of the patriarchy’s playbook.

But it was my only hope.

Burns stared down at me with a twinkle in his eyes. “Hopefully that means you’re qualified for this!” He laughed, infinitely amused by his own joke, apparently. “Now start sucking.”

The words hit me like a whiplash. The humiliation was absolutely devastating. I was mortified. What would Cindy say if she knew this?

Then there was the bit about being qualified. The truth was, I never gave Richard blowjobs, or let him penetrate me for that matter. I thought of traditional male penetration as inherently humiliating and patriarchal.

He usually ate me out, and I returned the favour by jerking him off. That was all. He chomped at the bit of course, but his conservative upbringing meant he too was ultimately fine with postponing sex, if for diametrically different reasons from mine.

He just thought we’d wait until marriage and then all bets would be off. I told him that wouldn’t be the case, but Richard can be one hell of a selective listener.

Still. Now I had a problem. Burns’ words implied I would have to do a good job at sucking him off, or he might simply not grant me an extended review. My career literally depended on this sexual act, a thought that horrified me down to my core.

I closed my eyes, and counted my breaths. This was for my job. I could break free of him eventually. I just had to push to the end. So I bent forward, and got to work.

I’d never done this before. I let the tip past my lips, closing my eyes against the earthy taste, and gave a few timid sucks. I knew I would have to do better than that if I didn’t want him to take matters into his own hands.

This wasn’t going to get better on its own. I had to get it done. Fighting my own impulses, I forced myself to take more of him in my mouth. I found myself wishing he had a smaller dick – that would make my job easier, at least.

As it was, I had a few inches into my mouth, and it was quite uncomfortable already.

I sucked on it like a lollipop, swirling my tongue around the head. Trying to mimick what I’d occasionally seen in porn back when I was still watching it, I tried to bob up and down – very small, timid movements though.

“Seriously?” Burns said. “You’re so bad at this.” Immediately his hands cradled my head, gripping my hair, holding me fast. Then, he surged forward, deeper into my mouth.

I tried to protest, but could only let out a feeble squeal. I raised my tiny fists and used them to beat futilely against his thighs – but all I achieved was to feel even more pathetic. I dropped my hands down in consternation, as his hands started moving my head up and down his cock.

It was so demeaning. Not only was he making me suck his cock, apparently I was bad at it as well? All I could do was try not to gag, be careful with my saliva, and try not to get too dizzy as he manhandled my face into becoming his masturbatory aid.

“Look up, bitch,” he said from above. “Let me see those eyes.”

I scowled at him from below, trying to stare daggers at him, trying to picture the moment he would be thrown in jail forever. But I failed to conjure the image. All I saw was his victorious smirk.

“Remember,” he said, “you still have to earn that extended review.”

I felt the defiance drain out of my eyes, as panic seized me again. In two heartbeats my angry expression had turned into a supplicating one, as I pleaded to him with my big doe-eyes to please be gentle on me.

I could tell that he saw the change in my demeanour. His pace accelerated, his hands now pushing me deeper down onto his cock, which was now poking at the entrance to my throat.

Bastard.

“That’s it,” he said from above me, throwing his head back. “Finally where you belong.”

I squealed in anger, humiliation, and pain. At that moment, Burns wasn’t thinking of me as a person – I was just a warm hole he could use for his own relief. The worst part was, I was feeling the same way.

Soft and weak and open and feminine, a plaything in the hands of a dominant male figure. This went against everything I believed about my own person, my gender, and my role in the workplace.

But I knelt there and took it, much as I disliked it. Like countless women before me, I let the man have his way with me, hoping that he would have mercy of me and let me keep my job.

“Let me tell you how things are going to go,” he said, his fingers pushing so hard against my scalp that it hurt. “I’m going to grant you that extended review.”

To my indelible shame, I perked up at the words, and started following his movements more actively, sucking at his cock with more girly enthusiasm.

“But a good leader cannot take decisions in a vacuum,” he said, caressing my hair, letting me do the work for the first time since the blowjob began. Embarassingly, I noticed I was keeping the same rhythm he’d imposed on me, even with his hands no longer guiding me.

I’d never leave this down, but… a small part of me was starting to like this.

Perhaps the very same, frightened, girly part that couldn’t stop thinking about the damn stone.

In that moment, my independence as a woman didn’t count. I was just an unwilling cocksleeve. I hated that, I hated that every time my lips descended down his length I felt less of a professional woman and more an office accessory.

But I could also see the arousal to be found in being putty in the hands of a dominating man.

I would never admit this. I’d never even replicate this as a fantasy in the bedroom – it would simply give the patriarchy more ammunition. But since I was down here against my will anyway, I sought refuge in the one part of my brain that didn’t experience this as an entirely negative event.

Lost in the haze of my abject debasement, I switched to only half-listen as he talked about leadership qualities, listening to his subordinates, and gaining an accurate picture of my value in the workplace.

His breath was coming a little short now, but I was surprised at his endurance – he gave no sign that he was even remotely close to the edge. How long would I have to stay down here on my knees, before he was done? 

But then, all of a sudden, his hand descended back atop my head, once again. With a force that brooked no arguments, he resumed control of my movement. I reacted to his hold with an irritated whimper.

I wiggled and struggled, trying to break free of his grasp, but his wiry strength soon had me submitting. My neck gave in, and he started facefucking me, as my muffled protests subsided into slutty wet sounds.

It wasn’t deepthroating. Not yet.

But given the ease with which he was mastering me, could I really doubt he’d take me there, eventually?

His resumption of control had the desired effect, though. All of a sudden I was listening to his words again, as he detailed how my extended review would work.

With my mouth demurely massaging his cock, I listened to his words.

And my eyes widened in horror.

***

Cindy

“Heeey, Cindy!” Nick Foster said, loudly chewing gum and flashing his derisory jock smirk at her. “Looking good!”

I rolled my eyes. This guy managed to annoy me on so many levels.

It’s genuinely hard to convey how energy-sapping it is to be hit on all the time as a girl, even more so as a lesbian. But Nick managed to rise head and shoulders above most students here, in that he was a bully, and a jerk.

Even his fellow football players didn’t particularly like him. He played defense – whether due to a lack of offensive finesse, or his preference for beating up smaller kids, I didn’t know and didn’t particularly care for.

As far as I was concerned, he had no true friends, and didn’t know the meaning of the word. But he did have plenty of cronies, mostly thanks to his rich dad. Taken together, they looked like a stereotype boy club. Prestigious jobs were waiting for them after school. In the meantime, they pretended their success was due to their winner mentality and their grind mindset.

“Of course,” he said with a chuckle, “your sister has one up on you…”

A couple of his goons chuckled right alongside with him, as if they’d just heard the best joke of the week. I turned back to face him, my face running red with fury. Even normally this comment would be enough to set me off, but now more than ever.

I was worried about Cathy. This asshole had no right to behave like this.

“Miss Cooper is your teacher,” I told him. “You better remember that.”

“Oooooh, scary!” Nick said with a laugh. “She’s the one who’s having trouble remembering that, Cin!”

I groaned in frustration, but the truth was the swine had a point – Cathy was exercising her authority less and less in class. My eyes briefly crossed with Irene’s, and the victorious grin she threw my way made my rage boil even hotter. I turned back. Any more and I would explode.

I was used to being seen as – and treated like – a bossy bitch. I made people do the homework for me. I took the credit. People didn’t cross me. Indirectly, Cathy’s weak showing was damaging my own reputation.

I thought her getting this job would make my life easier, not harder. Sigh.

Eventually, Cathy made her way into class for the second part on their lecture on Chaucer.

Cindy had already pointed to her sister’s different clothing choices during their morning trips to school in the car. Big sis was adamant that she just felt comfortable dressing like this. Cindy shrugged. How anyone could feel confident dressing sexily when around Burns was beyond her ability to understand.

The seconds stretched into minutes. Class wasn’t starting. Cathy was busy arranging papers on the desk, and mindlessly browsing into her purse. She was taking a suspiciously long time to get started. The class around her began to fidget.

Cindy narrowed her eyes. Something was definitely up with Cathy.

What wasn’t she telling her? Was she simply choking under the pressure of the big spotlights? She’d heard stories like that before, but would have never guessed to see her sister go through something like that.

She supposed that was part of the stories too. Sometimes, promising people simply buckled when things got real. She swore that wouldn’t happen to her when her turn to shine came up.

“Class, may I have your attention please?” Cathy said at last, in a shaky voice that didn’t sound like her at all.

“Aww, you always have our undivided attention, teach,” Nick said in a patronising tone that drew cackles of laughter from his posse.

That was it! That had to be Nick’s first mistake! Surely Cathy would give him a third detention now! Cindy couldn’t wait.

And yet, Cathy didn’t.

Cindy studied her sister closely. Her hands were shaking with anger, but she looked down, avoiding a confrontation with Nick. Not even a witty comeback. Why?

“Our director, Mr Burns, has been… evaluating my performance,” Cathy said in a half-whisper. “He believes that, in order to get a permanent contract, I should be subject to an extended review.”

Cindy sat in shock. Why had Cathy made no mention of this in the car?

“Students’ feedback on my teaching abilities will be a critical part of my review,” Cathy said, sounding ever more rejected.

“You’re going to be giving me a grade, based on my skills and my attitude as you perceive it.” Cathy’s eyes were starting to swell with tears. “Depending on how well you grade me, I might… get the job or not…”

Cindy sat dumbfounded, staring at her sister, whose face was now tomato-red with embarassment. Cruel laughter echoed across the classroom.

“Ms. Cooper?” Irene Cain asked, raising her hand. “Or should I rather say… Cathy?”

Irene’s audacity took my breath away. God, what a fucking bitch! Two weeks ago, I was putting her in her place – now here she was, pulling such a bullshit power move on my own sister!

“Yes, Miss Cain?” Cathy said, and I could see her spit out the words like poison – but she said them nonetheless, to the sadistic hilarity of her own students.

“Well, Cathy, it’s not actually you I want to address. Clearly you have no authority to make this decision,” Irene said with a smirk, before scanning the class with her clever, green eyes. “Folks, I think Cindy should be stripped of her right to vote on this matter. She’s Cathy’s baby sis, and she can’t possibly be trusted to grade her objectively -“

“You fucking bitch!” I roared, rising to my feet, as the class erupted in laughter around me.

“Please, Miss Cooper,” Cathy said. “Sit down. Miss Cain is correct. Director Burns had already specified you would have to recuse yourself from voting.”

I was so stunned that I sat down without protest. It didn’t escape my notice that Cathy had addressed me as Miss Cooper, even while I was being placed lower than all my fellow classmates in the process.

Was this a fever dream? It was a parody of a real class! Burns was setting things up for the inmates to literally run the asylum!

Once again, I crossed eyes with Irene. In the past, she was always the first one to look away, but in my shame… not this time.

I was dimly aware of Nick standing up, in my peripheral vision.

“Well, toilet break it is,” he said nonchalantly. I knew we wouldn’t see him for the rest of the lecture. Cathy kept her eyes downcast, refusing to challenge him.

Nick stepped in front of my sister on his way out. He leaned in, lowering his voice – but still talking loud enough that the whole class could hear.

“I’ll be keeping a real close eye on you, teach,” he said, in an admonishing tone that seemed to make Cathy shrink. “If you want a good grade… you’ll have to earn it.”

Chapter Three: A Bewitching Predator

Cathy

“Will you please tell me what the hell is going on?”

I shied away from Cindy’s tone like she’d just slapped me. The spinelessness of my reaction alone was enough to disquiet me. Two weeks spent under Burns’ thumb had been enough to make me cower before my little sister, as if I was the schoolgirl and she the teacher.

This was an unusual position for me. Cindy could be as bossy as me with her peers, and her calculating opportunism was straight out of my playbook, I knew. But she’d always looked up to me as the big sister she could, at best, emulate.

Or, at worst, envy. I could see it in her eyes when I went out to do some modelling gig while she stayed back after our parents had grounded her for some stupid reason.

Now, these old family dynamics were shifting. When it was just Burns lording it over me, that was one thing, but now Cindy saw me grovel before the classroom – before my very students – on a daily basis.

“Cathy, come on,” Cindy insisted, stepping closer to me once again. “I don’t get it. Why are you letting Burns treat you like this?”

She kept her hands on her hips, her head cocked, frown burrowed. Her look of disapproval froze me in place.

“What do you mean, Miss Cooper?” I asked, in a feeble voice. I didn’t need to call her Miss Cooper. By so deftly outmaneuvering her into not having a vote, Irene had ensured my sister wouldn’t play a part in my humiliating grading system.

But…

Well. Cindy was an opportunist. She might genuinely be worried about me in her own way, but she also reacted to weakness almost by instinct, and at that moment, I quite clearly wasn’t “the big sister” in our interactions.

There was more to it, too. Irene was openly challenging Cindy in class on a daily basis by now. Cindy had frustrations to let out, and with Burns’ relentless training undermining my self-confidence, I was an easy target.

Besides, I addressed Irene as Miss Cain in class on a daily basis. If I just called my sister Cindy, wasn’t that implicitly siding with Irene against her? That would just piss Cindy off. What if she went to Burns? Found out what kinds of review I had to pass to keep him on side?

That would directly threaten my job. The thought alone was enough to remind me of the stone, and to make my heart race with fear. I couldn’t risk it.

And so, I found myself yielding more and more ground to my younger sister.

“My job depends on it…” I said at last, in half a whisper, hoping that the technical truth would sate her need to know. Naturally, it didn’t.

“That’s bullshit,” Cindy said. “What other teachers do you see subjecting themselves to these humiliations to keep their jobs?”

Those other teachers didn’t make fools of themselves because of a stone on their first day at work, I thought, but couldn’t say out loud. “It’s not that simple,” I said, feebly.

“Have you done something stupid?” Cindy asked, stepping even closer into my personal space. “Has Burns got some dirt on you? Is it blackmail? Look, Cathy, I can help you, but you need to come clean with me.”

“No, nothing like that,” I said, and then, hoping she’ll let me go, “I do need to go and report to him though. If I wait any longer, I’ll run late.”

That wasn’t even a lie. Burns expected extreme punctuality out of me. If the clock struck eight AM and I wasn’t in…

This wasn’t the right thing to tell Cindy, though. Her eyes widened in outrage, and she pumped her hand into a fist. “Ugh, fine! But since you’ve decided to be such a wimp, I’m taking the car tonight.”

That made me turn around and face her off. Plummeting self-confidence or not, that car was a gift from Richard, and there was no way I’d let anyone else use it.

“No way! Look, Cin-“

“That’s Miss Cooper to you,” Cindy said, tapping her boot plaintively against the tiled floor. “Or have you forgotten, Cathy?”

I lowered my gaze, feeling like a mouse all over again. What the hell was happening to me?

I couldn’t piss her off. I couldn’t let her go to Burns.

“Of course, Miss Cooper,” I said, defeated. And, forcing myself to utter the words, “the car’s yours… if you want it.”

I didn’t give her the time to come up with a reply. I spun on my heels, and raced towards Burns’ office.

My little outburst had cost me, twice. Not only had Cindy firmly put me back in my place, but I was now late for Burns’ inspection.

As I stepped into the office, I knew I was in trouble.

Burns sat back in his chair, a fat cigar between his cracked lips. He was staring thoughtfully at the ceiling, puffing smoke slowly. He didn’t acknowledge my presence, or invite me to sit. I stood, fidgeting, like a schoolgirl waiting for her evaluation.

“The reports are starting to come in,” Burns said, his words coming out stilted as he spoke around his cigar. “Not many students are satisfied with your work so far, I’m afraid.”

My heart sank. What more did the little brats expect of me? For the past week I’d treated them like they were royalty! My lips trembled as tears swelled in my eyes.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” I said, demurely. He’d made it very clear to me that he expected me to lead with an apology whenever he was dissatisfied – only then could I ask questions. “May I ask what their g-g-grievances are?”

I hated stuttering. It made me sound dumb, but I was legitimately terrified. If I lost this job, I… I didn’t know what I would do! I wanted to resist Burns’ hold on me, truly, I just… had to find some stable ground on which to stand, first. I couldn’t think clearly while everything was in danger of collapsing around me.

“It appears that you’re an insufferable bitch,” Burns said without the slightest inflection, producing a perfect ring of smoke. “Not that that’s a surprise.”

At last, he leaned forward, and his eyes met mine. Whenever he had this look on him – this penetrating, piercing gaze – I knew he was thinking much more than he let on.

Burns was a pig, but a dangerous pig to underestimate. His mind was always working, always scheming, always concocting ways to exploit every advantage.

I could testify to that.

“I don’t tolerate tardiness, Cathy,” he said, in a low voice. “You were one minute late. You know what that means.”

I gulped, looking dejectedly at my feet – encased in heels selected for his approval. “I’m sorry Sir,” I said, remembering my training. “That will be a spank for… for every ten seconds of tardiness, Sir.”

“And how many is that?” He asked, plainly. “Do you at least know how to count, slut?”

My cheeks reddened with anger, humiliation, and fear. Things weren’t this bad when he first exposed my inadequacy. They were getting worse, all the time. What was I doing wrong? Was I too stupid to get it?

“That’ll be six spanks, Sir,” I said, biting my lips to keep my defiant backtalk to myself. Without waiting for Burns to prompt me, I made my way to his side of the desk – I knew he expected me to be proactive in my “employee disciplining”, as he liked to call it.

Feeling absolutely mortified, I laid prone over his desk, with my legs hanging out from the edge, my bum presented to him for his punishment.

All my authority, my credibility, was gone. Every time he did this to me, he managed to make me feel smaller. If anybody found out, no one would ever take me seriously again.

The worst part was that, for all my revulsion, his hand lifting the hem of my skirt and cupping my cheeks wasn’t entirely unpleasant. He had large hands, strong and wiry, a legacy from before his body started sagging with age.

Hands that were perfect to manhandle silly girls like me, who stepped above their station, I thought, rather absurdly. I groaned under my breath at the way my own reactions were betraying me.

“Don’t forget to count,” Burns said. I closed my eyes in anticipation and dread, as the hiss of his hand scything through the air reached my ears.

No amount of bracing could really prepare me for it, though.

His hand slammed on my ass with just the right amount of force. I knew he was an expert – knew just how much force to apply to drive the lesson home without living any bruises on me. I dully wondered if he’d done this before.

“One,” I counted. “I’m a worthless slut.”

I hated saying that. It wasn’t true. I could maybe accept that I wasn’t as good a teacher as I had once hoped for, but I’d only just started! He was simply abusing his professional and personal power over me to extort sexual favours.

I knew all of this. But I repeated it to myself anyway.

Because if I didn’t… maybe I would start believing the words he had me repeat.

And I didn’t want to stand on the edge of that precipice.

Again, he spanked me. I marvelled at the consistency of the force he applied. If I dissociated for a moment, forgot that he was doing this to me, I could appreciate that he knew what he was doing. He was training me without really hurting me.

“Two! I’m a worthless slut!”

The warmth on my ass cheeks – on the point of impact – was strange, at once unpleasant and comforting. Intellectually I knew that the body was releasing endorphins to fight the altogether manageable pain. But that just made me feel even more like a dumb girl out of her depth.

“Three! I’m a worthless slut!”

My breath was becoming ragged. My matted hair clung to my forehead. The intoxicatingly stuffy air of the office, the adrenaline, and the… physical exertion… were getting to me.

“Four! I’m a worthless slut!”

“You’re learning,” Burns said, but somehow I felt his satisfaction wasn’t really aimed at me. He was complimenting himself… the way a good craftsman does while moulding or creating something.

That’s what I was to him, after all – a thing. Or, to be more precise…

“Five! I’m a worthless slut!”

“We’ll make a real employee out of you yet,” he said, letting his hand linger on my bum far too long for my own comfort. In spite of myself, the reassurance about my professional future quelled my anxiety.

By the time the final CRACK resonated against my behind, I felt it send ripples all over my body like I was a taut violin string.

“Six! Six!” I shouted. “I’m a worthless slut!”

Burns swivelled back with his chair, signalling the end to my punishment. My hands immediately flew to the hem of my skirt, lowering it back down – a worthless modesty, considering the routine blowjobs and spankings that took place in this office by now.

But, like all victims of abuse, I was craving what little margin of control I had left, so that I could feel somewhat like a person, for at least some of the time.

I wasn’t blind. I knew what this was. A remote part of me knew I could go to the police right away. The option was definitely open to me.

I simply chose not to pursue it. Because…

I gulped.

Because I couldn’t countenance even the slightest risk of not working here. I would suffer Burns if that meant keeping my job.

Whatever the cost.

I stood on wobbly feet, grimacing at the discomfort and the smarting in my bum. Unfortunately, if previous mornings were any indication, my plight was far from over.

Midway into the week, Burns had decided that oral exams would now form part of my daily reports to him. Day after day, I’d been sucking him off as he degraded and demeaned my blowjob skills.

As if on cue, Burns stole a glance at his watch.

“Still forty-five minutes to go before you have class,” he said, in a matter-of-fact tone. “Tell you what. Make me cum in ten, and you can skip tomorrow’s report.”

I hated the implication behind the challenge. He thought I sucked at… well, sucking. Only a month ago, such a transparently childish negging technique would have made me chuckle – some men really thought us women were all born stupid and clueless.

The problem I had now, though, was that my teaching position did depend on my blowjob techniques. I couldn’t simply dismiss his comments as negging or gaslighting. What if he was perfectly serious, and decided to fire me?

So, hating every second of it, I descended to my knees – a familiar position for me by now – and readied to service him.

I was uncomfortably aware of the nylons stretching around my folded legs, accentuating my curves, making me look like even more of a cum receptacle for men. Burns always loved to ogle my legs in nylons. He even copped a feel against my thighs before fishing out his cock.

Dutifully, I set aside my misgivings, and got to work.

I sucked with all my might. I had to focus on the prize. Having a morning all to myself could prove to be just the sort of space I needed. I could clear my head, plan for a counteroffensive, clear the air with Cindy.

Not for the first time, however, I cursed Burns’ resilience. This was no boy, to start spurting the moment he got touched. He knew how to pace himself, how to draw things out.

I let out a muffled scream of anger and despair around his cock as the ten minute alarm went off. As if celebrating, Burns’ hands immediately descended on my head, gripping me tight.

I knew I was about to lose control of this blowjob. I stared up at him, pleadingly, but I was met with an evil smirk.

“See? You really are a worthless slut. Guess I’m going to have to train you.”

And train me he did.

He started pistoning into my mouth, inching the tip of his dick further down my throat. He’d pull back as soon as I started gagging, but made sure to immediately plunge forward again, letting me get used to his girth, to having his dick shoved down my throat.

He went at it like a battering ram, and as I knelt there, I could feel my defenses collapse under the onslaught. The office span around me as I gasped for air around his cock. I felt like he was prying me open, conquering me, asserting his superiority over me.

His right to use my mouth like a cocksleeve.

Cathy went limp under Burns’ crushing grip, letting him have his way with her. He must have noticed her surrender, because he clutched her tightly by the neck, and impaled her throat on his dick.

She gave up. And he claimed her.

In spite of herself, Cathy felt her self-image begin to crumble. She’d thrown it all away. All the work she put into being an adult was for nought.

Sure, she’d done quite a bit of money with modelling, but what really came to the fore right now was something else.

All those countless hours spent studying, preparing, striving to be a professional. All her intelligence and determination. What did it amount to, in the end? Here she was, on her knees, little more than a warm wet mouth and a warm wet throat for her boss’s cock.

She felt reduced. Stripped of intelligence, autonomy, and agency. Yet another little girl in a man’s world, hanging to her job for dear life thanks to her cock-sucking skills.

And what skills were those? She couldn’t even get him to cum. Now she wasn’t exactly sucking him off, not really.

No. He was fucking her face. Humping it like a source of relief, while she took it passively and submissively, an empty shell rather than the defiant, slay-queen woman she once figured herself to be.

She knew Burns at that moment didn’t see her like a colleague, a subordinate, or even a person. She was just a combination of curves shaped for his arousal, and warm lips for him to abuse.

She’d let him manipulate her into this corner. So on some level, perhaps she deserved this.

Could he be right?

Was she little more than a worthless slut?

Burns’ hands clutched at her hair. With a manly groan that shouted ownership, he thrust even deeper into her squelching throat, which was now like a surrogate pussy for him to abuse.

Then, his grip tightened so much it hurt, and if possible, his pace quickened even more. Cathy knew what was coming. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the humiliation.

When the cum flooded her mouth, she followed Burns’ instructions to the letter. She kept her lips glued to his cock, milking it for all it was worth, her own hands balling into fists as she tried to gulp down one mouthful of cum after another.

This done, she looked up at him with eyes filled with fear, and swallowed it all.

“Thank you, Sir,” she said, her lips sticky with cum and sweat, her throat fully coated in his spunk as she gulped to push it down.

Now for the next part of her instructions.

Lowering her gaze, she leaned forward again, and began to demurely lick him clean.

It was all so… crushingly humiliating. So crushing that she feared she might never recover.

But the worst of all?

The worst of all was Burns’ hand, running affectionately through her hair, as he whispered to her like she was some kind of trained dog.

“Good girl,” he said. “That’s a good girl. Getting better every time.”

No, Cathy thought, as she slavishly lapped at his softening cock. Everything is going terribly.

She was sure of it now. There was no way this situation could ever, possibly, get any worse.

And then, Burns recovered his wind, and spoke again.

“If only I were younger, I’d have you go again,” he said with a smile. “I know being a stuck-up feminist cunt, you don’t like giving blowjobs. That’s definitely something we’re going to correct with practice.”

His hands ran through my hair, and I bristled at his insult.

“But it’d be nice to get a good fuck out of a hole of yours that doesn’t need training,” he said, and the carelessness with which he threw such misogynistic filth around shocked me to my core. “Deepthroating requires practice, but a pussy is a pussy.”

“Actually, all male penetration is equally demeaning,” I told him in a stern, lecturing tone. It was the first time in a long time that I felt like myself. Of course, being on my knees with the taste of his cum on my tongue somewhat undercut my presentation, but… small victories.

“It’s not just blowjobs,” I said. “Women have a hard time coming from penetrative sex, Sir. On the other hand, men clearly don’t need penetrative sex to cum – touch is often all it takes. So,” I said, pushing my hair away from my face. “It’s only fair to do things that both partners find pleasurable.”

That’s how I did it with Richard. I jerked him off while sitting on his face. That way, we both got our rocks off. Of course, he thought I was saving up for marriage, because he simply refused to understand that my position stood on ideological grounds. But that was definitely his problem.

Burns swivelled back to face me, rocking pensively in his chair. His eyes were narrowed.

“Wait,” he said. “Your boyfriend’s never fucked you? You mean… no one’s ever fucked your pussy?”

I was about to tell him no, of course, but something stopped me in my tracks.

I could see the wheels turning in his head. Burns was following along some logical path he wasn’t sharing with me, and…

Oh.

There was a bulge in his pants.

Oh no.

“Cathy,” Burns said, in a perfectly deadpan voice, as I cursed myself and my stupid, big mouth for landing me into this predicament. “I’m afraid you’re going to be late for class.”

***

Nick

I just couldn’t wait for my English Lit class.

Had I said this out loud, few people would have believed me. Me, Nick fucking Foster, eager for any sort of class? Haha, no way. I was too cool for that, and I had my own, more serious things going on.

I played. Best defender in the school league this year, and wimps at school knew better than to disagree with me about it. Had my little crew of friends to make some noise with, and there was always this or that girl to chase.

Besides, it’s not like I really needed this place. My da’ had everything sorted for me already. I just needed the piece of paper at the end, a formality. The rest…

People with good family connections don’t need school. That’s for losers with deadbeat parents who never pulled themselves from their bootstraps.

I’d been in the Club a couple times, as my da’ liked to call it. Mahogany furniture, comfy chairs, that type of thing. Lots of cigar smoke. Even Burns was there – by far not the only perv present, although he was the most indiscreet of all by far.

It was odd to see a school principal in the company of stock brokers, but apparently he delved into… side projects during his free time. Hey, I respected that. Every man’s gotta have a little something something on the side.

Anyway. I liked the Club. I knew that’s the sort of place where I’d want to spend the rest of my days. Certainly not in class, much less in English Lit.

But… things had changed recently.

Cathy Cooper. Such a delectable, hot piece of ass. Just begging for a man to slap it, to put her through her paces. She acted so high and mighty, as if we didn’t all know she used to pose for money before she became a teacher.

The idea of pulling her down off the perch and at a man’s feet was delicious. The sorta delicious that normally remained nothing more than a fantasy. But something was up with Cathy.

The review system… it sounded like a Burns move, alright, but more brazen than anything I’d ever heard of. Did he have it out for this particular girl? Had she pissed him off, somehow?

I didn’t know. Truth be told, I didn’t much care.

All I knew was, every time she looked down in shame and switched to that low unassuming voice to say Yes Mister Foster, my dick fucking twitched in my pants. That kinda cockteasing couldn’t go unpunished.

But I wasn’t stupid. I wasn’t gonna jeopardize my future over some ho who thought too much of herself. So for once in my life, I tried to think with my brain and not my dick.

Hey, I was capable of self-criticism. I knew I got a little hotheaded at times.

I knew Cathy was with Burns at right around this time – in fact, I knew she did so every day. I liked to get up early, run some laps before class started, so I was in before most students, and I’d seen her head down that hallway every day for the past two weeks.

Every day, her meetings with Burns lasted a little longer.

Every day, she came back looking a little more off balance.

Now, maybe I was simply seeing things that weren’t there, but… that was the sort of thing to make a guy suspicious.

So, that morning, I did what any conscientious young student would. I hung back, waiting for Cathy to have spent enough time in Burns’ office.

I could have gone in from the start, but I knew that wouldn’t be smart. If anything untoward was happening in that office, it was at the end that it’d be the hardest to hide.

Besides, shortly before 9AM, there would be just enough chaos – with students coming and going to their first classes – that I could slip into a crowd, if needed. The cleaning staff and security guards would also be less likely to pay attention to me, loitering around Burns’ office, than they would if I was the only student around.

Like I said. No risks.

By the time I was approaching the door to Burns’ office, it was almost 8:45.

I didn’t know what I was expecting. Well, okay, on some level I did know. But reality immediately exceeded my expectations. There was noise coming from beyond the door.

Unmistakable noise.

Wet, squelching, rhythmic, thumping noise.

Looking behind to make sure I wasn’t being watched, I made my way quietly towards the door, and pressed my ear against the hardwood. I had to stifle a fit of laughter at what I was hearing from the other side.

“I thought women didn’t get any pleasure out of penetration,” a gruff voice said, panting. Holy shit, that was undoubtedly Burns! “You look slick enough to me. Admit it.”

There was a loud CRACK, and then I heard a soft voice, breathing and panting, the answer barely audible above the obvious sounds of fucking coming from behind the door.

“Yes Sir,” the voice said. Cathy fucking Cooper. “I’m wet, because I’m a worthless slut.”

So. Review system, huh?

I understood what was going on here. Good on ya, Burns! He may have been a slimy, corrupt son of a bitch all his life, but I felt a bit of gaudy, manly camaraderie with him at that moment. He’d bagged himself a true beauty!

Still. A plan began forming in my mind. There was an opportunity here that I didn’t want to pass up. So I grabbed my mobile phone, and started recording, while pressing it to the door.

They were loud enough that the recording would hold great fidelity.

I smiled to myself, and crouched lower, trying to peep through the keyhole while my phone did the job.

Holy shit. The sight before me defied description.

Cathy Cooper knelt on the desk, ass up, face held down by one of Burns’ strong, meaty hands. She was looking right at the door – right at me, though she didn’t know I was there.

Burns towered behind her, his other hand resting luxuriatingly on her ass, as he piled into her from behind, grunting and occasionally spanking her.

For all her proclamations of pleasure, I could see it in her eyes that she was putting on a show. She wasn’t liking this. It wasn’t that she was simply repulsed. Her eyes cycled through so many emotions.

Shame. Defeat. Defiance had gone out of them like a snuffed-out candle.

Occasionally, maybe when Burns ploughed deeper into her cunt, her eyes would roll upwards, and her teeth would press against her lower lip. In spite of herself, she was responding.

That made my own cock twitch in my pants. I sure hoped the recording was good.

Burns’ hands tugged at Cathy’s hair, pulling her head backwards.

“This is how a real man breaks in his filly,” Burns said. “Your boyfriend should  have taught you this lesson long ago. No wonder you’re such a shitty employee.”

“Sorry Sir,” Cathy said, breathless, pained, her head being pulled back savagely like she was a dog on a leash.

I raised an eyebrow. What was this whole thing about employees? Oh well, the rest of the dirty talk was hot, at least – as was the scene playing out before me.

“Let me clarify once and for all how your employment here is going to go,” Burns said, pistoning into her cunt with impressive stamina. “You want to keep teaching? Then you better follow every instruction I give you, to the letter. If that means fetching coffee, you do it. If that means sucking me off on demand, you do it. If that means letting an entire classroom treat you like dirt under their shoes, you let them. You’re just my gopher. Got that, bitch?”

“What?” Cathy said, horrified – to which Burns pushed her head back on the table.

“I’m not finished,” he said. I was stunned. This sort of dirty talk wasn’t on Pornhub!

“Feminism isn’t welcomed in my school. You wanna work here? Fine and dandy. You need to accept your place. You may be a teacher in name, but this,” he said, thrusting to mark each word, “is – what – you – really – are.”

Cathy was convulsing underneath him – but even her obvious dismay didn’t break her discipline.

“Yes Sir,” she said. “I understand.”

“And no matter who else you end up fucking in your life… you will remember me as the one who broke you in.”

“Yes Sir,” Cathy said, her head now hanging limply from the desk, truly defeated, as Burns fucked her. “I’ll… always remember…”

I was completely enraptured, but then a sound broke out across the hallway, distracting me.

Fuck.

The bell was ringing. It was 9AM.

It was literally time for class… not that mine would be starting any time soon, judging from what my teacher was doing! And normally, I’d have no compulsion showing up late – I’m not a loser.

But I didn’t want to risk Burns finding out, not before I had the chance to back up my recordings. Then, him and I could have the most interesting chat in the world.

As I made my way back to class, I saw Cindy standing outside, her arms crossed, her boots tapping impatiently against the floor. I let out a chuckle. Cindy! Oh, the poor sucker was in a tizzy about her big sis now, wait until she found out what Burns had truly done to her!

“What’s so funny, asshole?” She snapped at me. Ah, charming as ever.

“Your joke of a sister,” I said. “I’m so looking forward to today’s class,” I added with a smirk.

“So you can boss her around some more? Is that how you get your kicks, you sick pig?”

Not exactly, not this time. But I wasn’t about to tell her that. Before I could come up with another stinger, Cindy’s expression changed, becoming more serious. “Have you seen her? I wanted to have a chat with her before class.”

A sudden impulse seized me.

I knew it could, potentially, jeopardize my plan. But then again, I had the recordings… even if Burns went down in flames, I could still use my own leverage on Cathy. And honestly, the prospect of doing what I was about to do was irresistible.

“I think she’s still in Burns’ office,” I said nonchalantly, trying to ignore the shocked expression of outrage that was on Cindy’s face. “You might as well go up there and see what’s cooking -“

I hadn’t even finished my sentence. Cindy was marching towards Burns’ office with the confidence of a stormtrooper. I waited for her to turn the corner, and bent down, laughing hysterically.

Forget I said anything.

I loved school.

***

John

“What have you done to her, you asshole?”

Cindy Cooper was as outspoken and uncivilised as  Cathy used to be, John considered. Feigning nonchalance, he crumpled a tissue in his hand – she didn’t know it, but it was dripping with his own cum – and threw it in the bin as she watched.

He loved getting away with stunts like this. It made him feel like the smartest man in the room.

Now, however, he was quite irritated.

The danger was real. Had Cindy decided to barge in only a few minutes earlier, she would have caught them in the act. As it was, she’d ran into her sister in the hallway outside.

Cathy had been dishevelled. Burns had made sure of that.

Unfortunately that was enough to rouse young Cindy’s suspicions.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Burns said in a calm, measured voice. “And I would suggest you return to your classroom, and use proper tone with your superiors, or I’ll have to suspend you.”

“Suspend me?” Cindy threw her head back and laughed. “Are you nuts? I could have you thrown in jail. I can put two and two together. I don’t know what kind of dirt you have over Cathy, but hand it over now, or I go to the cops. Right this instant.”

Burns sighed, shaking his head. Intellectually, he’d known there was a chance something like this would happen. But this early, and it being Cathy’s own sister? So, so inconvenient. She had even less incentive than most to simply let the matter be.

Burns had to make a decision quickly, that much was clear.

He had always espoused the saying that, if all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail. So he felt going against the grain of his own advice, as a plan took shape in his mind.

But the truth was, the stone was unique in its properties. The thrill he was getting now was something he couldn’t get anywhere else. Consent would take the edge off the thrill. Hookers would simply be acting.

So, in a way, a hammer really was all he had.

And as for nailing, well, he had just nailed one of the sisters on this very desk, he thought with a smirk.

“What are you laughing about?” Cindy asked, bewildered. “Why does everyone in this cursed school behave like they’re in on a joke I’m the only one not privy to?”

“Oh, I’ll let you in on the joke,” Burns said, enjoying the look of exasperation on Cindy’s face.

Slowly, deliberately, his hands fished into his pocket.

“The set-up to the joke,” he said, “is gender equality in the workplace, and sexual harassment laws.”

He studied Cindy’s expression, the way her brow furrowed as she tried to understand if he was confessing to harassing Cathy. That would certainly lull her into a false sense of security, make her believe he was misstepping.

It would blind her to the danger.

Burns kept his gaze leveled on Cindy’s eyes, as he held the stone between thumb and forefinger.

“The punchline,” he said. “Very funny. The punchline… is you.”

The stone went spinning into the air.

Chapter Four: A Grand Display Of Sadistic Sport

Cathy

“I’m a worthless slut.”

This guilty admission of failure – personal and ideological, failure as a teacher and a feminist, failure as a member of my own gender – was so etched into my brain at this point that I found myself repeating it like a mantra, without noticing.

Whenever I did notice, I cursed myself. I bit my lip in anger, drove my nails in my palms, anything to force my brain to focus.

Unfortunately, the moment I got distracted with anything – grading homework, preparing lecture notes, doing chores… masturbating… any time at all; the mantra would resume.

“I’m a worthless slut.”

My life was unravelling around me. I wasn’t so far gone that I didn’t realise as much. I had it all figured out, my academic career had proceeded like clockwork… and on the very first day, I let Burns put me on the back foot.

But even that was a compromise of sorts, wasn’t it? I’d run into an unexpected problem, and was compromising on a few of my beliefs to deal with it. It was a way to maintain control in front of uncertainty.

And yet, I was now spiralling. Completely out of control.

“Because I’m a worthless slut.”

Day after day, Burns would spank me. I would repeat the mantra, burning it into my mind. Day after day, I would suck his cock. He’d taken my virginity, my professional autonomy, and my dignity away from me with the ease of stealing candy off children.

To my students, I was little more than a joke. My own subconscious kept betraying me with this misogynistic drivel I couldn’t purge out of my mind.

“I’m a worthless slut.”

And Cindy… where first she had been standoffish and antagonistic, her behavior had now changed in ways I didn’t fully understand. She spent a lot of time secluded in her own room, and in class, she largely stayed quiet and self-absorbed. Only Irene’s taunts seemed to still get a rise out of her.

Whenever we did interact, however… it was further proof that I’d lost control of my life.

I had to call her Miss Cooper at all times, even at home. She left the dishes for me to clean, took my car without asking, and worse, her eyes betrayed a complete lack of respect for me. In many ways, I felt like I wasn’t the big sister of the two any longer.

This was how I now found myself sitting in my office – a place I ever saw these days, being in Burns’ office all the time – during afternoon appointment hours, after taking a bus to get there, because Cindy had denied me use of my own car.

Sitting in my office, before Nick fucking Foster.

He sat there like he owned the place, loudly chewing gum and wearing a delighted grin on his angular face, rocking back and forth in the chair as he leered at me.

My students saw me as a joke. But the two biggest challenges by far were Nick and Irene. And here was Nick, not in class but alone, face to face with me. Maybe he thought he was subtle, but I could see it from a mile away that he had some kind of plan in his head.

I needed to fend off his challenge. I needed to preserve at least the last modicum of authority I could preserve.

And yet, all I could rely on was my own brain, which was stuck on repeat over the same, traitorous admission.

“I’m a worthless slut.”

“So, Mr Foster,” I said, hating how naturally this demure and unassuming tone was coming to me by now. “What did you want to discuss with me today? Are you here to try and improve your English Lit grade?”

“That is the best class on offer right now,” he said with a chuckle, chewing his gum louder, “but no. I’m here to talk about how to raise yours, Cathy.”

His words made my heart sink. I gulped down, blinking slowly, waiting for him to mention that he was joking. He just kept chewing gum, throwing his self-satisfied grin in my face like a kind of challenge.

I knew my position was untenable. I depended on the students’ good will to keep my job. Nick and Irene, above all, were testing the boundaries of how far they could leverage it. But this was new, dangerous, and scary territory.

I gulped down again, politely bowing my head in deference. “Of course, sir. What would you recommend for me to improve my performance?”

My cheeks burned so much I feared they were about to catch fire. Let alone the students’ perception of me, how could I look myself in the mirror and feel like a professor when I was asking Nick Foster to review my performance?

“You can start by getting on deeze nuts,” Nick said, laughing to himself and making obscene gestures towards his crotch.

The blood that had rushed to color my cheeks suddenly flushed back down, leaving me pale and cold like stone.

“Very funny, sir,” I said nervously. “For real, though – what do I need to do better?”

“I just told you,” Nick said, drumming his fingers on his thigh, as if he was encouraging a pet to climb onto his lap. “Get to work.” And then, venomously, “Bitch.”

I stood up. It was meant to be a gesture of anger and intimidation, leveraging my nominal position as a teacher.

However… I looked ridiculous, sexy, available. My pantyhose complimented the curves of my legs, and my office skirt was way too short to be actually, well, an office skirt. Without a bra to contain them, my tits threatened to spill out of my blouse at any moment.

I looked like the sexed-up parody of a secretary in an office porn vid.

Nick clearly noticed, laughing openly at my failure to be the slightest bit assertive. No wonder Burns was reducing me to his toy, if this fresh-faced jock could brush away my ineffectual attempt at being taken seriously with such ease.

“Come here,” he said, pointing to his lap. “Sit.”

I gave a whelp of surprise as my body tried to do two different things at once – walk towards Nick, and head for the door. Two competing impulses were clashing within me.

Burns had drilled a new set of values into me. I should always show deference towards men. I should be sexually open and available. I was a worthless slut, and deserved to resign myself to male authority in all aspects of life, especially in the workplace. My own students were the boss of me, and Burns incomparably more so.

However, I had to keep this job, and I had to protect Burns’ as well. He had my allegiance. If I simply obeyed Nick and started having sex with a student, I’d put that all in jeopardy.

With a groan of anguish, I realised there was almost no room in this calculation for the simple fact that I didn’t want to have sex with Nick, much less submit to him.

Burns’ daily training was having an effect of me. I’d been narrowed down to a sliver of my former self. He was working me over like an expert craftsman.

But even his instructions weren’t perfect. Right now, I was facing decision paralysis.

But the more I thought about it, the more the fear won out over Burns’ training. Submitting to misogynistic treatment had to come after protecting my – and his – job.

I told myself that the fact I didn’t want to debase myself sexually before a student helped push me in that direction.

I hoped that was the truth.

“No.” I said, stepping away from Nick and towards the door.

I should have done so much more than this, of course. Slapped him. Had him expelled. Reported him to the authorities. Unleashed an entire #MeToo shitstorm on his ass. But those options were for free and autonomous women, and Burns held me on too tight a leash for that.

But I could say no. To me that was the most beautiful word in the English language at that moment. It made my voice sound so crystalline, so much more like my own, the one I used to have before this nightmare began.

Moreover, that one word was enough to throw Nick in confusion. He was clearly completely puzzled that I simply hadn’t agreed to his request right away.

I may be a worthless slut, but you didn’t entirely think this one through, did you, big boy?

As I rested my hand on the door handle, basking in gratitude for small victories, his voice cut me short.

“You do want a good grade, don’t you?”

My hand started trembling.

I kept my back to him, willing myself with all my might to open the door and rush out, but terror kept me frozen in place.

I turned to face Nick, my legs quivering underneath me. His confidence was coming back. He was sure I’d buckle. I could clearly see the bulge building in his pants.

Was this truly my fate? To exist as a purely sexual being, perceived only as a pleasurable object for men? Was there nothing else about me – my brain, my hobbies, my likes and dislikes, my own personhood? Was I destined to see man after man get an erection because of me, and then seek relief in my holes?

“I do,” I said, choosing my words very carefully. “But that doesn’t give you the right to sexually harass me, or even rape me, Mr Foster.”

He waved my objections aside with a throw of his hand. “You’ll do it,” he said, gesturing once more to his budding erection. “That gives me the right.”

I knew he came from old money, that his entire social environment was a bit of a boys’ club. He probably thought women being at the beck and call of men was due course. That I kept yapping on like an annoying feminist, but eventually I would behave like one of his dad’s secretaries.

“I don’t consent,” I said, my voice unsteady.

“I don’t care.”

I drew in breath, my hand still clasping the door handle. I had a decision to make, a binary one. No compromises or negotiations or rationalizations, not this time.

It was on or off. Stay on the ship, or jump. Surrender, or flee.

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

If I defied him, I risked my job. If I succumbed, I risked both my job and Burns’.

Actually, when I put it that way, the choice became somewhat easier. Burns would appreciate that I picked the option that put him in the least amount of danger. He would protect me. He had the authority to do so. If I kept his job safe, he’d keep mine safe, too.

That was the one silver lining in the dehumanizing, patriarchal work environment I found myself mired in every day. That was the one good thing about being a plaything in the hands of a dominant male overlord.

He’d look after his property. Enforce the boundaries to his territory. He could afford to sexually harass me because his authority in the workplace went unchallenged. The prize of the alpha lion was not for the rest of the pride to share.

With that certainty animating me, I turned the handle, pushed against the door, and wheeled into the hallway, heading for Burns’ office.

***

John

The precise workings of the stone remained a mystery, even to him.

He was acutely aware of this. He hadn’t tested it on many people – it was simply too dangerous. By far his largest data set, so to speak, came from Cathy.

Cindy, the younger sister, had reacted rather differently to the stone. He wondered why that was, exactly.

The key mechanism was clearly still fear. But it seemed to be different for everyone subjected to the stone. Not just in the specifics of the fear, but in intensity and outward manifestation, too. He wondered how the stone knew what to select for.

Did it identify chinks in a person’s armor? Did it play on their worst fears, or on mere insecurities? Did it prey on their biggest personal weakness, or pull on the lure of personal taboos?

If only he had such information on hand now, things would proceed much more speedily.

The stone had scared Cathy – but it had absolutely terrified Cindy. She’d started sobbing and trembling, right in the middle of the office, and by the time she started hyperventilating, Burns feared his whole plan might unravel.

Fortunately, she calmed down, after a fashion. Nevertheless, John had stepped into the unknown. The unprecedented intensity of Cindy’s reaction had only driven home the point he already appreciated intellectually: he’d taken such a stupid risk, being nearly caught in the office like that.

He couldn’t expect the stone to bail him out every time. Even with Cathy, it was only patient and methodical training, combined with a lifetime of fantasies about utterly controlling women, that was delivering such wondrous results.

He didn’t like risk. He’d have to manage it better, in the future. Even if it meant taking extreme countermeasures.

As for Cindy, he hadn’t laid a finger on her. Not yet. Not until he understood what exactly it was that she was afraid of. They’d held many sessions since the first, all in his office, all with careful and deliberate exposure to the stone.

He’d successfully convinced Cindy that it was her sister’s fault she was now vulnerable before him. After all, the only reason why Cindy was in the office on that day was to try and bail her sister out.

It was working. There was simmering sisterly resentment there now that he could cultivate and exploit. But one step at a time. He needed to get inside Cindy’s head first – then he could do some real damage in there.

He preferred Cathy, but he supposed Cindy was a fine prize in her own right. Young, angry, rebellious, and probably a dyke if he hadn’t missed his guess. The thought of breaking, manhandling, gaslighting, and sexually mastering a lesbian student made his cock strain against his pants.

But precisely because of all these factors, the risks were greater. So he’d take his time, and do it right – while still keeping his primary focus firmly on Cathy.

Speak of the devil, he thought to himself as Cathy barged into his office, without knocking.

She was wearing what he’d instructed, looking like a slutty, leggy secretary out to do her boss’s sexy business. He approved. What he didn’t approve of was her lack of composure. She was breathing fast and hard, her hair disheveled as she ran hands nervously through it over and over.

He frowned. He’d drilled a clear discipline into her. She was supposed to knock, then stand demurely and wait for him to acknowledge her. She should only come when summoned. She should look prim and proper, been seen but not heard, and available for his pleasure.

Was something the matter?

“Sir,” Cathy said, bowing so far forward she was basically doubling over. “I’m so sorry Sir. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Something definitely was the matter then. He sighed internally. First they got nearly caught by Cindy, and now this? The plan had been so simple, so flawless. What was he failing to consider?

“Spit it out, slut.”

He loved the way she basically didn’t even react to the insult. She was so used to answering to derogatory pet names by now. That made him beam with pride – so much for gender equality.

Cathy gathered herself. “There’s an emergency! Sir, I-“

Before she could continue, the door to his office opened. Burns nearly spit his cigar. What was it with the school today?

In stepped Nick Foster, with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Burns’ eyes narrowed, moving inquisitively from Nick to Cathy. He had an inkling what might be going on here.

More exposure. More risk.

He needed a way to manage it.

“Mr Burns,” Nick said in a tone of half-mockery, while Cathy stared slack-jawed at him. “We need to talk.”

***

Cathy

My boss would protect me.

I didn’t know what Nick thought he’d achieve by following me into Burns’ office, but his chase ended here. I knew Burns would watch over me.

As I droned on and on, detailing the humiliating encounter with Nick in my office, I found solace in this belief.

I had done everything he’d asked of me. Dressed for his entertainment, annihilated my own authority in the classroom, let him take me the way a dog takes a bitch, submitted to his deepthroating crash course.

Even now, I looked and behaved more like a school girl than a teacher. Here I was, in my ridiculous outfit, my hands crossed in submission before me, asking the school principal for arbitration like I was a naughty student complaining about a bully.

Free women reported sexual harassment to the authorities. I had to beg my serial sexual predator to defend me from another sexual predator. I was pathetic, and all for Burns’ entertainment.

Surely that would entitle me to, at least, his protection.

Burns chewed pensively on his cigar as he took in my side of the story. Nick listened to it with exaggerated showmanship, now bringing a hand to his chin, now silently mocking my words with his eyebrows or faux-stunned expressions.

Thanks to Burns’ grading system, Nick had authority over me. Thanks to his masculine upbringing, he considered it an inevitability that women would eventually accept second place to his wants and needs. But if he thought he could get one over Burns, he had a surprise coming. Nick was just a boy, and Burns was a man.

The kind of experienced, cunning, calculating, domineering man who could slowly and systematically deconstruct a proud female colleague until she was little more than his simpering coffee-fetcher, I thought to myself with a blush.

“I’m a worthless slut.”

By the time I finished my tale, I bowed my head in deference, waiting for Burns’ judgement. Only the tiniest craning of my neck gave me the opportunity to study his face.

His attention was focused on Nick. Even when ostensibly protecting me, he knew just how to make me feel worthless. I was a piece of office furniture to him at that point.

“So, Nick,” he said with a voice raspy from smoke, speaking over his still-lit cigar. “What gave you the idea you could take such liberties with one of your own professors?”

The predatory grin never left Nick’s face. He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached into his pocket, grabbed his phone, and placed it theatrically on the desk.

The sounds coming from it were unmistakable. They were wet. Slutty. Sexy.

And, I thought as a wave of dread washed over me, familiar.

“Yes Sir,” my voice said in the recording, in-between moans. “I’m wet, because I’m a worthless slut.”

The floor gave way underneath me, and I fell to my knees, struggling to keep steady. My life was over. So over. Nick Foster had a recording of… of this. Not just me and Burns fucking, no. It was the moment I lost my virginity. It was my capitulation to the patriarchy.

“Feminism isn’t welcome in this school,” Burns said in the recording. That sent another bout of panicky, dizzy nausea coursing through me. He was recognizably in this recording too!

“I assume you didn’t know about this,” Burns said, pausing the audio file and looking down to meet my eyes. I lowered mine immediately, remaining demurely on my knees.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” I said, my new apologetic habit ingrained into me even now. “I didn’t, sir.”

Burns gave a tiny nod, then turned to face Nick.

“Well played. Your dad would be proud. Him and I have done good business together in the past, I’m sure you’re aware.”

That steadied me a little. My head was spinning, but Burns was in control of the situation, just the way he was in control of me. By reminding Nick of their connections, he would make it clear that no-one fucked with him without consequences.

If I really had to subordinate myself to a man, I supposed I could have done worse than this.

“Just so we’re clear,” Burns continued, “if this is an attempt at blackmailing me, it isn’t going to work. I know a thing or two about dealings in this town that you wouldn’t want to be divulged either. Your dad, even less so. Am I being clear right now?”

“Crystal,” Nick said, looking like he’d tasted something impossibly sour. I allowed myself the tiniest of smiles.

“Good. However, Nick, I want you to understand that I truly don’t like taking risks. And there’s no reason for us to damage our respective operations, when we can come to an amicable agreement instead.”

My eyes darted to Burns.

What was he talking about?

Nick brought a hand to his chin, and not to put on a show this time. “I’m listening.”

“You better be,” Burns said, swivelling in his chair so he was facing me. I raised an eyebrow in puzzlement – what was he planning?

He cleared his throat before speaking.

“You’re a worthless slut.”

My jaw slacked so much that it threatened to hit the floor. Had I not been on my knees already, I would have fallen for sure.

A tidal wave of emotions slammed against me so hard that I felt like I was drowning. Anger, betrayal, powerlessness… humiliation. How could I have deluded myself into thinking I could find safety with this man?

He’d been deconstructing me, all this time. And apparently now, he would do so again.

“You’ve put everything in danger,” Burns lashed out. “Your job, my job, everything. A student shows up with dirt on us and demands the simplest thing from you – a trifling request, really. Access to your holes. And you say no?”

I wanted to disappear. I wanted the earth to open up underneath me and swallow me up.

“You say no to being fucked, and risk bringing the whole school crashing down on us? Or worse?”

I was so mortified. So stupid. All I needed to do to make this problem go away was agree to fuck Nick. Instead, I decided to make a scene out of it, act like I could afford to be a feminist, like I didn’t have to be afraid for my job.

Tears welled in my eyes, as Burns tore angrily into me.

“I need you to understand that you were born for this. Evolution and society has sculpted you to fulfill male pleasure. I thought you’d learned there is no place for feminism under my employment. So why do you think anyone gives jack squat about your consent?”

Burns shook his head. “If you can’t learn this simple a lesson, perhaps you’re not qualified to be a teacher after all.”

That did it.

It broke me.

I threw myself at Nick’s feet. I realized I was kneeling before a student, and he looked so intimidating when seen from below. His jock body, sculpted by hours upon hours of physical exertion, merely emphasised the extent of my feminine weakness.

“Please forgive me,” I said, talking to neither Burns nor Nick in particular, but in a way, to both. “Please let me keep my job. I’ll do anything…”

Nick unceremoniously thrust his erection into my face. “Kiss it,” he said.

That was an odd request, but I complied immediately, rubbing my cheek against the fabric of his jeans as if I was a cat. Then, I placed a tiny kiss over the head of his dick – still through his jeans – and followed up with more.

In a way, this was even more humiliating than a blowjob. I was kising his dick through his pants. This wasn’t openly about pure physical pleasure, or stimulation. It was symbolic.

I may be the teacher and he the student, but here our roles were being permanently reversed. I cemented that with each kiss. I was paying homage to a superior. My conquered lips softly brushed against his cock to signal my unqualified acceptance that I wasn’t his equal.

It was tribute. From the defeated to the triumphant.

“Good girl,” he said, running his strong, calloused fingers through my hair. I hated the fact that the demeaning words made my pussy squirm.

“Nick, I’m going to need you to be discreet,” Burns said from behind the desk.

“Of course,” Nick said, eyeing me like a cheetah eyes a gazelle. “I know you’ve got dibs on the bitch. I don’t mean to get between a man and his private property. Just… lend her to me a little.”

Burns gave a chuckle. “Oh, I think I can throw something in to sweeten the pill for you, my young man. Just give me a little time to bring a… side project into fruition.”

“Sure thing Mr Burns,” Nick said, removing his belt. There was a weird glint in his eyes, a glint of power and sadism that made my mind scream for danger. “Now, if you don’t mind,” he continued, “I’m going to make sure this wench never dares utter the word no in my presence again.”

Burns chuckled, endlessly amused. “Spoken like someone who knows this is a man’s world.”

“Indeed so, Mr Burns. Indeed so.”

Nick’s cock sprang free. It was a bit smaller than Burns’, for which I was grateful, considering that it was now inevitable I would have to let it master me as well, but I was unsure on how to proceed. Should I keep kissing it?

But Nick answered the question for me. His strong hands grabbed the base of my skull and pulled me upwards. He was strong enough he could easily lift me off the ground if he wanted to – but he didn’t.

He kicked the chair out of the way, and slammed me onto Mr Burns’ desk.

His hand nailed me to the wooden surface, while his other hand explored the hem of my skirt. I squirmed in panic, but it was useless – he could physically tame me literally with one hand, which made me feel incredibly weak and stupid.

I looked up, at Mr Burns, who was staring down at my face like I was a piece of paper on his desk. This was so completely dehumanizing. These men were battering at me with every weapon the patriarchy and biology had put at their disposal, and I couldn’t even pretend this was a fair fight anymore. I was defeated.

Nick clearly had less experience than Burns. He wasn’t as deft in gaining access to my cunt, but after a bit of fumbling with my underwear, he did bare it to the air. I could feel his fingers exploring the folds, finding my clit, toying with me in circular movements.

I moaned.

This was one of my students. He was toying with my pussy. And he was making me moan.

“You’re a pretty shitty teacher,” he said, pressing his thumb on my clit and holding my face down as I shivered, “but you’ve got an acceptably fuckable cunt.”

Burns laughed out loud at that. “She should put that on her resume. She’s too dumb for anything else anyway.”

I wanted to protest, to complain, to beg. If Burns decided I was too stupid to teach, then that was it for me. But before I could get a word out, I gasped.

Nick had entered me.

He immediately started pistoning in and out of me, with zero regards for my own pleasure or arousal. It was awkward, in a way – the intrusion wasn’t pleasurable, at least at first, and I wasn’t that well lubricated.

But Nick simply ignored it. He kept going. I was pinned on the desk, being fucked by one of my students, under Burns’ stern gaze… and my mind would do what Nick’s crude fucking could not. The humiliation coursed through me like a bolt of electricity.

And when I felt the first twitch in my pussy, I knew my downfall was inevitable.

Again Nick didn’t have Burns’ experience, but he made up for it in vigor. The stimulation in my pussy was unrelenting. I was a masturbatory tool to him at that moment, a hole he could use to get off, and little else.

Nick’s hand gripped my hair and pulled. I screamed from the pain, but was forced to yield to his superior strength. As he pulled my head back, I found myself eye-level with Burns. His inquisitive gaze drilled into me, and I flinched under it as Nick fucked me.

“I trust you’ve learned your lesson now,” he said, ominously. “This is what you’re good for. The only thing in life you’re any good for.”

“Yee-ees Sir!” I said, squealing and stumbling over words as Nick pulled me back and forth.

“Let’s see,” Burns said, standing up. As he did so, he pulled down his pants, and his cock – erect, and glistening with precum – jumped at my face.

With near-perfect training, I slid my lips around it, letting him plug my stupid feminist mouth with his bossy cock.

Behind me, Nick let go of my hair. His hands grabbed my wrists and twisted my arms behind my back. He was using them as levers to hold them in place.

Then, they started truly fucking me.

Humiliation and pleasure mixed in my mind, making my cry with despair and arousal at once. Here I was, bent over the desk, being supported only by Nick’s iron grip on my wrists as he used my arms like a set of makeshift reins.

Plugged by dicks on both ends, with my arms trapped and unable to move, there was no question in my mind about what I had become.

A fucktoy.

“Yes,” Burns said as he straightened my head to plunge his dick into my throat. “Take it. Take it all, you ditzy whore.”

Nick’s pace accelerated behind me. The casualness of his physical control over me drew the last vestiges of feminism out of my brain. There was no room for it, in a world in which men could dominate me so easily.

“That’s it teach,” he said. “Milk my cock with your pussy walls. I’ll be teaching ya a thing or two about how the real world works.”

But I did know how the real world worked.

I knew it as my pussy clenched around Nick’s cock, begging for his seed. I knew it a I gagged and choked and cried around Burns’ cock, surrendering my airways to his sexual mastery. I knew it when Nick slapped my behind, and the only reason why I didn’t confess to being a worthless slut was that my mouth was plugged.

I knew it as Burns played with my tits, finding my nipples traitorously erect. I knew as the onset of an orgasm – more powerful than any I’d ever gotten by myself or with Richard – rippled through me.

When the orgasm came, it was devastating.

It was like I was dropping off a cliff, the muscles in my thigh quivering and shaking, the humiliation making my mind cave in on itself, finally accepting my place in life as a receptacle for men’s cum, a toy for them to find relief.

It proved too much for Nick. With a final roar and a strong thrust that impaled me even further on Burns’ dick, he came, coating the insides of my pussy with his spunk. My cunt twitched, eagerly milking every last drop out of him.

Burns gripped my skull with his hands, and started facefucking me with such vigor that my gagging sounds morphed into one another.

And then, he came. Claiming me as his property, shooting rope after rope of warm cum down my throat like a garden hose.

I heard Nick sit back on the floor behind me. Burns’ cock plopped free of my mouth, as he collapsed back in his chair.

“You know, Mr Burns,” Nick said, breathless, doubtlessly staring at my conquered pussy as I lay like slain prey over my boss’s desk. “I think I’m going to give her a half-decent grade after all.”

Burns gave a roaring laughter to that. I simply lay there, trembling.

I did know. I did understand the terrible truth of the world.

At that moment, perhaps for the first time ever, Burns’ teachings weren’t just a mantra to me. They were true, a kind of truth that went bone-deep and could never be challenged.

I was, undisputably, what he said I was.

A worthless slut.

Chapter Five: A Tittering Sycophant

Irene

Turnarounds can be a bitch.

I’d been a late bloomer, in more ways than one. It had taken all my strength and determination to not let the bullying break me. I lost weight, cured my acne, hit the gym. In the space of a couple of years, I’d gone from the class loser, to a bombshell with her own posse in tow.

But that wasn’t enough for me, not yet. Something was missing. I was proud of my grit, to be sure, but I wanted to truly see my will triumph.

I wanted the impossible. Beyond that, I wanted it on my terms.

I wanted to be a fucking queen.

I nearly felt like one, regally perched upon my own teacher’s desk. Class was yet to begin, and we knew Cathy was up, so it was a bit of a free-for-all. My classmates stood by the window, mingled with one another, chatted animatedly about nerdy topics, and generally minded their own business.

There were but three exceptions.

Nick Foster stood with his back straight, his fingers drumming impatiently on the desk. He couldn’t wait for Cathy to come, and I could definitely sympathize. We both got a kick out of putting the bitch in her place.

We had different reasons, of course. Nick wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. I suspected he was proving a point to himself as much as Cathy.

But me?

After being in the shadows of more popular people for so long, I wanted to see someone fucking grovel before me. The queen bees like Cathy had made my life a living hell before I became one of the winners myself. Now, there would be hell to pay.

And so I awaited for Cathy by resting my butt on her desk, crossing my legs seductively – I’d chosen dark, form-fitting jeans that emphasized the curve of my calves and thighs, and flat-bottomed equestrian boots that made me look like a dictatress in waiting.

Oh, then there was the third exception, of course.

Cindy Cooper was staring daggers at me.

No wonder. The bitch was a bully, through and through, and I’d been on the butt end of her abuse for most of my time here at Crawford High. But no longer. Now she would get a nice, fat helping of the same medicine.

I bobbed my booted feet up and down, smirking at her. I loved challenging her so openly. She knew I was winning our little tug of war. It had all started with me stripping her of the right to vote… which, to be honest, I was surprised to find incredibly hot. Weird, of course, but hot.

The tide was against her now. The rest of class saw her star as on the wane since that day, with mine very much on the rise.

With her sister being so slavish, I knew it was only a matter of time before I got leverage that would allow me to show both sisters who was boss. And then, we’d really have some fun.

The door opened, snapping me out of my reverie, and in stepped Cathy. I openly laughed in her face – surely I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed her skirt grow progressively shorter, week after week, to the point that occasionally, the top of her black stockings would show. Today’s skirt was blue, and her blouse was white and tight.

She was clearly braless, her nipples poking through the thin fabric.

Hard nipples, I didn’t fail to notice.

I didn’t know what the hell was going on in this school, exactly. But so long as I got a windfall out of it, why should I complain?

“Good morning, class,” Cathy said sheepishly, in a voice so low you’d think she didn’t want to be heard. Maybe that was exactly her objective, considering that our attention could only be bad for her at this point. I saw her turn towards Nick first, which made me raise an eyebrow.

“Good morning, sir,” she said, bowing her head.

Not mister Foster, but sir. Huh, interesting. Had Nick found a way to strengthen his authority over Cathy? I’d have to watch them closely.

Then, Cathy spotted me, sitting on her desk like it was my turf. She opened her mouth, closed it, eyed her sister – so pathetic, did she expect her own little sister to help out? Eventually she realized she was powerless to defy me, and simply bowed her head.

God, I’d never get tired of this thrill.

“Good morning, Miss Cain,” Cathy told me.

“Ma’am,” I said, sharply. “You called Nick sir. The least you could do is pay me the same courtesy.”

That left Cathy speechless, with her eyes wide in terror. Interesting! So Nick did have a special hold over her. I wondered what he’d found. But regardless, once openly called out, Cathy had no choice but to fall in line.

“Of course, ma’am. My apologies.”

“Say, teach, you want a good grade?” I said, bobbing my right foot in the air. “I think my bootstraps are loose. Get down there and fix that.”

Promptly, Cathy knelt down before me.

God, I felt like such a queen. Here I was, using her desk as her throne, while she knelt on the floor to literally lace up my boots.

“Stop it, you fucking bitch!” Cindy roared in defiance, balling her hands into fists. “Cathy, get up! Stop obeying this upstart!”

I noted with interest how Cathy reacted to her sister like she’d been issued an order, but before she could rise. I lifted my other foot into the air, placed it atop her head, and pushed down. Cathy fell back to her knees, whimpering in pain as the hard sole of my boot pressed down upon her head.

“If I hear another word from you, Cindy,” I said as the whole class watched, my words laced with venom, “I’ll give your bitch of a sister a grade so terrible she will be fired on the spot. Do we understand each other?”

To my amazement, Cindy sat down. She glowered and muttered under her breath, but sat down, while I was literally rubbing my dirty sole into her sister’s hair. That made me press my thighs together.

“That’s it, peasant,” I said. “You have no right to vote, remember.”

And that’s when laughter resounded from everyone else in class, and I saw the defiance and self-confidence drain away from Cindy’s face.

I let Cathy lace up my other boot, hovering it inches from her face all the time, and then I was magnanimous enough to let her up. She tried to recompose herself, to some degree, but looked flustered as Nick approached her.

“See you at appointment hours, teach,” he said in a whisper.

I had to stifle a gasp – I stayed quiet, not wanting Nick to know I’d heard them. Appointment hours, of course! One on one facetime, no other students looking on, no danger of being caught… you could exert so much more control over Cathy if she were alone!

I was actually a little embarrassed that Nick had had this idea before me. I would have to figure out what he was doing exactly.

I smiled to myself. I knew what I had to do if I wanted to find out.

By the time class ended, I would be well on the way towards achieving my goal.

***

Cathy

“No, wait! Please sir, wait!” I begged and pleaded, bent over the desk, with Nick’s strong hand possessively placed on my rear.

Such was the mockery of “appointment hours” that was enforced on me as part of the review system.

I knew my pleading would fall on deaf ears, and this was confirmed a second later, when Nick simply pressed the tip of his cock into me, without making any compliments.

I slumped down on the desk, defeated. It wasn’t like I was trying to deny them – I’d lost that kind of autonomy by now. But he could at least have the decency to put me in the mood, first.

That wasn’t his way. Nick fit the stereotype of the self-centered, obnoxious jock to a T. He probably fancied himself a ladies’ man, but his technique – such as it was – was incredibly clumsy. And I couldn’t so much as raise the point, even in a pleading, servile, sniveling voice.

As he began working his way deeper and deeper into me, I was reminded of the horrible truth of my situation. Nick didn’t need to worry about my pleasure. It was subordinated to his. My job hung in the balance of whether my pussy could satisfy his cock.

Embarrassingly, that thought lubricated me. It pushed me to alter my behavior for his pleasure. I rolled my hips, responded with eager gasps when he spanked me, kept my arms firmly limp by my side as he stamped his masculine authority into me like I was little more than a bitch for him to dominate.

“That’s it, teach,” Nick said, not even sounding remotely off-balance. He did have the stamina to go with the jock body, after all. “It’s what you were made for. Give it to me. Give it up.”

He lacked the verbal command of my humiliation that Burns showed every time he staked his claim on me – something which made me appreciate his methodical deconstruction of my womanly pretensions even more. Next to him, Nick really was just a boy.

And yet, my future was in his hands, and my body was free for him to use. So if he really was inexperienced and clueless, what did it say about me that I was so firmly under his thumb?

With a gasp I realized I was supplying the very verbal humiliation that Burns would normally heap on me, and my pussy was responding, convulsing around Nicks’ cock, gripping it, making him groan with pleasure.

A small, distant, horrified part of me knew I was beginning to associate my dependency on dominant male figures with sexual arousal. This would convince Nick even further that there was nothing wrong with the way he had sex.

My actions weren’t just damaging me. They were damaging the wider feminist cause, and all women everywhere.

As Nick’s fist clenched around my hair, pulling my head backwards, impaling me further with his cock, I realized that I was a gender traitor.

And the thought alone made my body quake with pleasure.

“Looks like I’m the one doin’ the teachin’ here,” he said, and this time his voice was showing signs of his physical activity. As was I. Nick was pistoning inside me with more and more energy, ragdolling me over the desk like I was just an object, rather than a person.

And I was. Twisted, bent, pliable, most of all available. In the span of a few weeks I’d let this student – this person I was supposed to be an authority figure towards – entirely domesticate me, like a little sexpet.

For all his physical stamina, Nick was young and horny. Where Burns was very precise about his requirements, Nick was easily pleased. All of a sudden, his hands let go of my hair, and pushed my face down onto the desk, reminding me of my subordinate position as a plaything at the beck and call of men.

With a final roar of triumph, he orgasmed into me, planting his seed deep within me, claiming me. His interest spent, he withdrew from me with a soft squelching sound, leaving me to whimper in frustration. I hadn’t got to cum, but I knew better than to raise the issue with the men who now ruled over my life.

Burns had been very particular about this concept. Whether women cum or not is irrelevant, he liked to say. They exist to provide relief, not to seek it. It was a disgusting lesson that went against everything I genuinely believed in… but it was hard to cling onto my indignation, as Nick composed himself and left my office without so much as a glance in my direction.

I was a spent doll, used and discarded.

Eventually, I found the strength to recompose myself, after a fashion. Still wobbly from the fuck Nick had given me, I made my way out into the main hallway – I knew Burns wanted to see me, and keeping him waiting would have dire consequences.

As I stepped away from my office, a tingle raced across the back of my neck, as if I was being… watched.

I turned around, my eyes darting this way and that.

No, the place was deserted. Considering the stuff I was going through, it was really no surprise that I saw ghosts behind every shadow.

With a shake of the head, I made my way towards Burns’ office.

***

John

John Burns contemplated the delectable piece of ass standing demurely before him.

Cindy became unrecognizable when she was in his office. She couldn’t meet his gaze, or walk confidently – rather, she dragged her feet, spoke in quiet tones, and kept her hands clasped submissively in front of her.

Just seeing her be so unassuming in his presence was getting his dick hard.

How he’d managed to keep his hands off her so far, he barely knew. That took all the restraint he could muster, and more besides, as he labored to figure out what made the girl tick… what reaction the stone had triggered inside her.

His mouth stretched into a predatory smile.

Now, he knew. He was sure of it.

The girl was clearly a little lezzie, this much was apparent to anyone with a functioning set of eyes. But she was clearly inexperienced. Worse, growing up in her sister’s shadow had given Cindy some very particular insecurities, ones that mixed very poorly with being a lesbian.

The girl feared social rejection above all else. What if she never found a girl to marry and settle down with? What if her family refused to accept her coming out, and turned her away? The thought of being unlovable absolutely terrified her.

Such a curious thing, the human mind. So versatile, so creative, and yet ultimately, so… fragile. He felt not the slightest bit of empathy for the girl. He knew that she was a rotten bitch to everyone who couldn’t strike back at her. Her recent behavior towards the newly-meek Cathy was proof of that.

No, this weakness existed for him to exploit. This was the beginning of the descent, and she would be powerless to stop it.

Burns cleared his throat.

Cindy sniffled a little, rubbing her eyes with her hands. Even so, she stood a little straighter, waiting for whatever message or instruction he had from her.

“Cindy,” he began, “I know this is a difficult time for you. I know you have trouble accepting I had a need to discipline your sister. That’s what the review system is really for, to make sure she complies with our policies.”

“That’s not true,” Cindy said, but there was no bite to the retort. “It’s got nothing to do with work at all. It’s gross, unfair, and sexist.”

“But that’s not what’s bothering you,” he said, in a voice that brooked no argument, and he gloated at the way she flinched before him. Session after session with the stone had completely broken down her ability to stand up to him.

He’d been thorough in a way that he hadn’t even with Cathy. He’d wanted to make sure to close all loopholes before reaping the fruits of his labor, this time.

“I know what you’re afraid of,” he continued, and the way Cindy’s lips trembled as her eyes filled with uncertainty and gratitude was actually a little pathetic.

“Y-you do?”

“Of course,” he said with a friendly nod. “I’m a school principal, aren’t I? Helping young people through these crucial, formative years is part of my job. Besides, these fears must seem so big to you know, but take the word of someone who’s been through it – it will all seem incomparably silly ten years into the future.”

“I suppose,” Cindy said, fidgeting in place, unsure of where he was heading with this discussion.

“I have a bullet-proof plan to make sure your worst fear will never come true,” he said. “All you need to do is, well… everything I say.”

Cindy looked up at him, then down, then up again. “You want to sexually harass me, too,” she said with a nervous gulp.

“But of course!” Burns said, nodding enthusiastically. “That’s the first step in my plan. How many victims of sexual harassment do you know?”

“Quite a few,” Cindy said, her voice still low. She’d spent the last hour staring at the stone, too terrified to look away, and right now, her mind was at the most pliable. Time to go for the killing blow.

“And how do people tend to behave towards them?”

“Not supportive enough,” Cindy said with a sniffle, “sometimes they even blame them.”

“Sure, sure,” Burns said, hurrying her along, “but on the whole, they get empathy and support, especially these days, right?”

Cindy sighed, defeated. He knew she could sense how disingenuous the argument was, but in her current mindspace, she literally didn’t have the spare capacity to oppose him.

“While you spend time under me,” he said with significance, “I’ll be working on my plan to make sure you’ll always have the love and acceptance you need. But even if the plan fails, at least you’ll be able to tell people you were sexually harassed. This way, everyone will immediately sympathize with you!”

“That’s very generous of you, sir,” she said, and it was all Burns could do not to laugh out loud at the complete absurdity of this whole discussion. “What do you need me to do?”

“For a start,” he said, “kneel.”

Cindy’s eyes were wide open, now. She realized the implications of what she was about to do, and she looked at her surroundings like a deer caught in headlights, as if looking for a way to escape the fate of sexual subservience now rushing towards her.

But there was no escape.

Slowly, deliberately, she descended to her knees.

It was a glorious sight. Kneeling complimented the beautiful curves of her toned legs in a way he found eminently pleasing. The way she had to look up at him made his erection strain in his pants.

He raised an eyebrow, plaintively. He didn’t need to say anything. All he had to do was sit back, and enjoy the absolute defeat in Cindy’s eyes as she started crawling on all fours towards his desk.

He knew something had died inside her at that moment, and the idea filled him with vigorous arousal. Identity break was the sweet, sweet taste of victory.

He shivered as Cindy’s delicate hands undid his zip.

As her sweet, lesbian lips made contact with a cock for the first time, John Burns allowed himself to consider the possibility that he was truly, thoroughly, and irredeemably evil.

He’d just spent the past few weeks gaslighting, manipulating, terrorizing and mindbreaking two women into making themselves sexually available for him. They were both adults, to be sure, but neither had any real respect for him.

One was his employee, the other a student at his own school.

And the latter was also a convinced lesbian who’d never been with a man before, and was now clumsily sucking on his dick. She’d clearly need the same kind of oral training he’d given her sister.

Yeah.

Evil.

It was lucky, then, he considered as his wiry hands gripped Cindy’s hair, that being evil felt so impossibly fucking good.

***

Cindy

I wasn’t straight. Therefore, it was okay for me to suck cock.

That’s what I repeatedly told myself, as I submissively knelt under Burns’ desk, working at his erection with my mouth, cementing this impossible change in my life.

I wasn’t straight, so this was nothing sexual. I was merely sucking his cock to protect myself. I was doing it so people would love me. I would do it so Burns would execute his plan to make sure people would continue to love me, whatever it was.

Oddly enough, that part wasn’t difficult at all for me to accept. I trusted him. Ever since that first encounter in his office, I’d been constantly gripped with such terrible anxiety… but he’d provided the only real source of relief.

My sister was a frustrating mystery, Irene seemed able of winning every round against me, Nick was his smug, arrogant self, and I was terrified that my family would refuse to accept my orientation… maybe even kick me out. They’d never given me any indication that they would, but for some reason, for the past few weeks I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.

But Burns always knew what to say to make me feel better.

Unfortunately, that meant I had to give him a blowjob.

I wasn’t good at it, so it was almost a relief when his hands took control of me, and he started thrusting harder into my mouth. I was rubbish at this, of course. Never done it before. Never dreamed of doing it before.

This was a hugely significant moment for me. A lesbian, kneeling before a man… it signified so many things. It meant that I was willing to accept his authority over me to such an extent that it would overshadow even my own sexual orientation. I was so inferior and so helpless before him that it didn’t matter whether I was a lesbian or not.

What mattered was that my body was sculpted to arouse him.

“Your sister sucks better cock than you do,” he said, his strong hands regulating my pace like I was just a fleshlight for him to fuck. “But don’t worry, you’ll learn.”

My only response was a series of gluks as I slobbered all over his dick. I didn’t like the taste. I didn’t like the texture, which felt both soft and hard at once. I got no physical pleasure out of it, either.

But I hated that it somehow felt right. I hated that his words motivated me to be a better cocksucker for him. I hated that they made me feel so thoroughly feminine, folded in a low, slavish position where my mouth could be put to better use than talking.

Lesbian or not, feminist or not, I knew I’d never look at men the same way again. I intuitively understood now the fear, awe, and subservience they seemed able to command from so many women all over the world.

I was one of them now.

Burns grunted above me, and then impaled my throat on his cock, which started twitching as I gagged. Involuntarily, I was giving the tip of his dick a throat massage.

When his spunk hit the back of my throat, it made me wheeze and cough, but I couldn’t even move, so strong was his iron grip on my head. His cum was gooey, salty, and unpleasant as it coated my throat and slithered downwards. But I took it all.

In that moment, my lesbian identity was ruined forever. Whatever else I’d do in life, I could never simply un-suck this cock, or undo the fact that I’d just swallowed a load of cum.

Burns kept me on his dick as it softened. He clearly had no interest in what I had to say. His hands caressed my hair, almost affectionately, and I made sure to clean his softening cock in gratitude.

As I did so, he started talking.

And, like any good slut should, I kept suckling at him as I listened.

***

Cathy

I sensed danger.

This entire situation had been fraught from the very beginning, of course. Burns’ very first move was to maneuver against me, put my back to the wall, first literally and later metaphorically.

I’ve been navigating a minefield. The humiliations I’ve suffered in the meantime would have made the old me explode with rage, but at least I knew what was going on at each and every step.

Now, though, I felt like I was on the edge of a bottomless precipice.

I stood in Burns’ office, demurely waiting for his permission to speak.

We weren’t alone.

By my side stood Cindy. Her pose matched my own so strikingly that it made my heart beat faster. Had Burns been… training her?

No, surely not. What leverage would he even have on her?

And yet, I couldn’t deny what my eyes saw. Cindy stood quietly, waiting for Burns’ permission to speak, looking at him expectantly. She hadn’t glanced in my direction, not even once. Oddly, she wasn’t wearing any shoes or socks.

I returned my gaze to the floor. I couldn’t see what was behind the corner, and I was terrified. My breath was coming in short, quick pants. Rather than the battered and broken resignation of a defeated woman, what I felt now was a strange thrill.

Fear.

At last, Burns cleared his throat, looking up. Cindy and I snapped at attention simultaneously, standing straighter, looking ahead like soldiers waiting for orders.

That wrung a smile out of Burns. He had a weird glimmer in his eyes, like a kid about to unwrap a Christmas present whose content he knows in advance.

He sized us up in turn, his ogling eyes lingering where they wanted to. It still made my skin crawl, but I knew that meeting his pleasure was the fundamental condition of my employment, and I said nothing.

“Girls, girls, girls,” he said softly, clapping his hand. “The last few weeks have been quite hectic, and I dare say, life-changing.”

I gulped. I certainly couldn’t argue with that description.

“I felt like now was a good opportunity to take stock,” Burns said. “We’ve been improvising a little too much. It’s time to think about how the future is going to look like. Chart a sort of… career path to you, if you will.”

He flashed his wolf-like grin at us.

“For the rest of your lives, so to speak.”

The sense of imminent danger grew stronger inside me. For the first time since first giving ground to Burns, I seriously considered what would happen if I simply fled, and never showed up here again. But I couldn’t. I just… couldn’t contemplate giving up on my career at the first obstacle.

But what was he talking about? The rest of our lives?

“Let’s start with you,” Burns said, turning towards Cindy. “I told you I would help you with your little problem, and I will deliver. But please understand that I will have to be brutally honest to do so. It’s for your own benefit.”

“Yes, sir,” Cindy said, and my head snapped towards her – in spite of myself, I couldn’t help but look. Cindy was mirroring my behavior, was addressing Burns as sir, and apparently needed help with something?

It felt like the room was spinning around me. My hands clutched the chair before me, as I leaned forward for support.

Oblivious, Burns continued. “You see, Cindy, your crucial problem is that you’re an insufferable bitch.”

My eyes widened in shock. Cindy whimpered softly, flinching under his words.

“Fortunately for you, there is a way we can correct your behavior, and make you a lot more pleasant to be around. You’re going to need… a boyfriend.”

Cindy’s mouth opened and closed. She looked my way for the first time, as if uncertain on how to proceed, and back to Burns. “A boyfriend? But sir, I’m…”

“A dyke, I know,” Burns said casually, to which Cindy gasped in shock – and so did I. Was that true?

“Don’t worry about her, she won’t be a problem,” Burns said, nodding in my direction. “Yes, a boyfriend. That’s the point. It’s the perfect cover story. No one can accuse you of being a lesbian if you have a romantic relationship with a man. Even more so if you embrace traditional gender roles, and accept his masculine authority over you.”

Cindy fidgeted in place, eyeing Burns with big, terrified eyes. “Would that b-b-boyfriend be you, sir?”

Burns threw his head backwards, roaring in laughter. “Oh no, girl. My job is to win you sympathy points by sexually harassing you, remember?”

“Of course, sir,” Cindy said dejectedly.

I literally couldn’t believe my ears. It was like this entire conversation was relying on some critical piece of context I wasn’t seeing. Were these people – my boss and my sister – completely insane?

“No, your boyfriend will be Nick Foster.”

Both Cindy and I focused our eyes on Burns. In my peripheral vision I could see her reaction of shock and disgust matched my own. Was Burns really throwing away my (apparently lesbian) sister to that sexist pig like a bone being tossed to a dog?

I was letting him fuck me, of course, but I hardly had any choice. What hold could Burns possibly have on Cindy?

“That’s not up for discussion,” Burns said, cutting Cindy off before she could protest. “Besides, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll give you a safe outlet for your lesbianism. One you can indulge without the slightest fear of the consequences.”

I stepped back in horror as I realized that Cindy’s expression was now one of gratitude.

“Of course sir,” my sister said. “Thank you sir. If I may ask…”

“Who the outlet is?” Burns said, chuckling to himself.

And then, his eyes fixed on me like a searchlight.

“What?” I asked, not understanding, panicking, my eyes darting between Burns and Cindy.

“Cathy,” Burns said, “what is about to happen to you hurts me more than it does you, believe me.”

To my right, Cindy moved towards me.

“No,” I said, stepping back in horror, my hands reaching behind me, looking for the door handle. My heart was beating so fast that its thundering sound deafened me. “No!”

“Yes,” Cindy said, stepping between me and Burns, her mouth twisted in a lustful smile. “Come here, little sis.”

Her hands reached out, grabbing for me. Instinctively, my own hands shot upwards, slamming against hers – and a moment later we were clutching at one another, pushing and fighting, pressing our hands together in a test of strength, while Burns looked on in amusement.

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment as I realized Cindy was pushing me into the corner. I grit my teeth, digging in with my heels, but her wiry strength kept inching me back, towards the wall.

“No…” I repeated, too stunned to understand what was going on. My mind was coming up blank, as if this was happening to someone else, not to me.

“Yes,” Cindy repeated, as my back hit the wall. She pinned my wrists and pressed her body against mine. She looked smaller than me, but I knew now I just had a little extra plump. Her lithe frame hid a strength I couldn’t match.

She brought her lips against my ear, her breath warm against my skin.

“I’m the stronger sister,” she said, gyrating and rubbing herself against me as I squirmed. “I’m the smarter sister.” Her lips tugged at my earlobe, making my skin crawl with disgust. “I’m the bigger sister.”

“You can’t!” I gasped, weakly thrashing against her old on me. “We’re sisters! You can’t do this! Cin-“

She slapped me.

“That’s Miss Cooper to you. How many times do I have to tell you?”

Unbidden, tears filled my eyes as Cindy’s hands now pressed against my shoulders. She was trying to push me to my knees.

No! This was too much! My entire life was spiraling out of control! I had to stop this!

“Cathy,” Burns said, “you nearly cost me my job with the little stunt you pulled, getting Nick involved. It’s good he was amenable to taking Cindy on as his girlfriend.” He shook his head. “Clearly I overestimated you. You’re too much of a dumb slut to be a teacher.”

That did it.

I grew pale, trembling with cold and fear. It was like the floor was giving way beneath my feet. Tears broke out in a veritable torrent as I sobbed and gasped for air. What resistance I’d been able to offer fled my limbs, and Cindy succeeded in pushing me to my knees.

“Please sir!” I shouted, in-between sobs. “Please don’t fire me!”

“I’m not firing you,” Burns said, and immediately my tears stopped and my breath slowed, even as Cindy ran her fingers possessively through my hair, my face hovering mere inches from her thighs.

“Y-you’re not?”

“Of course not,” Burns said. “I’m just giving you a different job, one you’re more qualified for. But if you screw up this time…” he let the threat hang. He knew he didn’t need to spell it out.

“Of course, sir,” I said, my voice shrill from panic and a desperate need to persuade him. “I won’t let you down! Anything for you!” Anything to not be this afraid, ever again.

“Well, there are two parts to this job. The first part is easy. You’ll just have to be Cindy’s little sister.” He lit one of his cigars, pensively puffing smoke as he held it between his fingers. “Loyal. Obedient. Open to her experimentation.”

“You hear that, Cathy?” Cindy prodded me with her foot. “Show me my dues as the elder sister.”

I didn’t even hesitate. There was no room for hesitation. I’d lost one job already due to all the stupid bitchy resistance I kept trying to muster, and Burns was being kind enough to give me a second chance. If that meant a demotion inside my own household, so be it.

I threw myself forward, and showered Cindy’s feet in kisses.

I feigned an enthusiasm I did not possess. I placed humble pecks and smooches all across her ankles, arches, heels, and toes. She presented the sole for me to kiss and snuggle against. She held my nose between her toes, commanding me to breathe in the scent.

Casually, Cindy placed a foot atop my forehead, and pushed me to the ground. The heel pressed down against my cheek, nailing my face to the floor. I couldn’t really see it from this angle, but I could see beneath Burns’ desk.

He’d fished his cock out of his pants, and was stroking it.

I almost failed to notice that I’d licked my lips by pure instinct.

“As for the second part of your job,” he said, while Cindy fidgeted above me, eventually switching from one foot to the other.

“Let’s just say that you’re more qualified to be a secretary than you are a teacher. I will make sure to inform your students that you’re a professor only in name, and that they should grade you on your secretarial skills alone.”

I squirmed in fear and discomfort under Cindy’s foot, but I couldn’t really complain, could I? It was the same set up as before. I’d blown it up once, and being demoted to secretary – and to little sister – was the price I had to pay. I still counted myself lucky.

I’d do better this time. No matter the cost.

Something soft hit my head, temporarily covering my eyes. Cindy removed her foot from my head, and then reached down to pull whatever it was that she’d dropped on my face.

As she did so, I realized what it was. Her jeans.

My sister now stood above me, naked from the waist down. I couldn’t look at her nakedness, couldn’t contemplate it, but looking at her face was hardly an improvement. She eyed me like I was some dumb animal as she ran her toes through my hair in a parody of affection.

Maybe I was.

Defeated, I looked on as Cindy lowered herself to straddle me, tucking my face in between her thighs, pinning my wrists to the floor.

She was right. She was stronger, smarter, superior to me. No wonder Burns had tasked her with being a girlfriend, rather than a slut to her own sister.

Her sex descended on my mouth.

The scent was the first thing that hit me. It smelled like arousal – in a way like my own arousal, but slightly different. I shuddered when I realized that it wasn’t unpleasant. It didn’t make me recoil. I accepter her lower lips resting luxuriantly above my face’s lips – a signifier of our new difference in status.

“Mmnph!” I said, trying to breathe through my nose, which still poked out. Then, Cindy began rubbing her cunt back and forth over my face, leaving a trail of juices in her wake. She was horny. She desperately wanted this. God, how long had she wondered to place her cunt on another girl’s face?

Every time she slipped forward, she squished my nose, preventing me from breathing.

“You want to breathe, little sis?” She said, her voice almost unrecognizable, so warped it was by lust. “Then lick me. Serve me. Worship me.”

And I did. I let my tongue snake sheepishly into her folds, and for the first time in my life, I started licking pussy.

In return, Cindy let me breathe. But her thighs clamped strongly around my head, her hands clutching at my hair, making me feel like I was an animal being domesticated and broken in for the first time.

I was now a cuntlicker. A slave to my own sister. I had been a complete fool to ever consider this a temporary arrangement. Burns played for keeps… and in a way, so did Cindy.

I accepted that Burns was right – that this was, indeed, the beginning of the rest of my life. And as Cindy started to buck and moan above me, I lifted my head and dove deeper into her sex, putting all my energy into the oral service, into bringing her pleasure.

After all…

It was literally in my job description, now.

***

Irene

When I realized that Nick was fucking Cathy in her own office, I thought the day couldn’t possibly get any weirder than this.

As it turns out, I was wrong.

I stepped carefully away from the door to Burns’ office, regretting my choice of boots for once – yeah, they made me look like a girl best not trifled with, but moving quietly in them was a pain in the ass. It was a good thing the school was deserted, because anyone who’d run into me would probably notice the way my eyes were virtually popping out of my skull.

Not even in the worst kind of cheap porn had I ever seen something like this.

I double-checked that the recordings were on my phone, and had been uploaded to my shared folder. They were there. Good. I’d gotten a nice long view at what was going on in that office through the keyhole, but it was the recordings that were going to change my life. For the better.

My brow creased as a pang of worry stung me. Seeing what he was doing, I knew for a fact that I didn’t want Burns to see me as a problem to dispose of. People thought he was creepy, but he was a fucking sociopath. Still, apparently he’d cut Nick into his deal, so why not do the same for me?

I looked forward to having Cathy the class secretary kneel and grovel at my feet. And nothing like the bullshit kisses Cindy was getting on her feet, oh no. I knew my way around kinky stuff, and I’d make sure Cathy gave me the tongue bath that I deserved.

As for Cindy herself… she might have her own lezzie slave now, but she was still missing out on the other side of the lesbian experience. I would be more than happy of providing it for her, and showing her just what it felt like to be the cuntlicker. And I’d be much harsher than she was being now with Cathy.

Cindy might not know her way around actually breaking someone with your cunt. But I did.

I smiled to myself, slipping my phone into my pocket and heading out into the sunlight. What a time to be alive.

After double-checking that no one was around me, I pumped my fist in triumph, and whispered my joy to the world.

“The bitch is mine.”

Chapter Six: A New Conqueror

Cathy

My phone buzzed in the darkness.

Groaning in my sleep, I rolled on my back and fumbled to turn off the alarm clock. My fingers, still unresponsive from sleep, slipped over the screen a few times before I could finally muster the dexterity to make the phone shut up.

It was a Monday morning. Another day in my new life.

Moments later, with typical punctuality, a weight slammed against my chest, driving the breath out of me. By pure instinct, I struggled and thrashed about – but then I realised who it was, and I stilled myself.

“Morning, little sis,” Cindy said in a sultry voice, shuffling towards my face, her knees firmly planted at either side of my chest, pinning my arms down into the soft mattress.

I looked up at her, her hair still ruffled from sleep, hanging down loosely to hide her face from me. But her smirk still glimmered in the darkness.

An ordinary beginning to an ordinary week.

“Good morning, Miss Cooper,” I said, well-conscious of my new role in the household. Burns had given this job to me, and I wouldn’t disappoint him. I was in equal parts proud and horrified that my job-reflexes now reacted naturally to my own sister raping me in my own bed, seconds after waking up.

Burns truly was turning me into a model employee.

Besides, I considered as Cindy slithered upwards and pulled my face deep into the embrace of her thighs, it wasn’t all him. Cindy was so bossy with me these days, so expectant that I would drop everything I was doing to wait upon her on hand and foot. It felt so wrong to consider, but it was so… natural.

Serving my younger sister. Pressing my face against her crotch, letting her hump my nose, feeling her shudder above me as I put my tongue to good use for her. She really was stronger, smarter, prettier.

She really was the bigger sister.

“I like that you’re compliant,” she said, her hand running affectionately through my hair. “You used to be such an uppity bitch.”

I whimpered submissively into her cunt as she gyrated above my face.

“Burns was right,” she said, her eyes glimmering in the morning penumbra. “We needed to break you. You’re so much nicer now.” The words spurred me on in my service, and Cindy’s words gave way to moans as her climax approached.

Her left hand clutched my hair so tight that it hurt, but I knew better than to protest. Her right hand slammed down on my forehead, pinning me. She repositioned herself until my nose was tucked beneath her folds, and started riding me wildly. Using my face as masturbatory aid. Getting herself off on me like I was a living dildo.

I couldn’t breathe in this state, and I began to moan and buck and thrash weakly underneath, but she was so strong, so powerful… she kept me absolutely still, my vision completely blocked, her thighs pressed hard against my ears, as she mastered me.

Eventually, Cindy let out a long, guttural moan, arching her back above me. That caused her to lift slightly, and at the expense of being coated in her juices, I could breathe again.

I lapped at her obediently, making sure to clean every drop, while she rocked back on her heels, contemplating the day ahead.

It was fair to say our lives had changed.

Cindy got up and left my room without a word, and I went to the bathroom to wash my face. I knew she would soon need it clean and presentable again, as part of our breakfast ritual. Eating Cindy out was only the beginning of our morning routine together, as we readied ourselves for another perfectly normal day at Crawford High.

I assembled Cindy’s breakfast on the table, then knelt underneath it as she entered the kitchen.

“Breakfast is served, Miss Cooper,” I whispered, to which she only responded with a grunt of approval, sitting in the chair right before me. She’d put on a pair of dark jeans, which greatly complimented the curves of her legs – a disturbing thought, but I was spending so much time between and beneath them that it was hard to stop my mind from wandering.

Cutlery clanging above me, Cindy began to eat – but first, she luxuriantly placed her feet over my head. I demurely massaged her soles with my lips and tongue, letting her rub the night foot sweat onto my slutty face – the right dues I should pay to my superior sister.

All the time, I thought about Burns, and the stone.

My stubborn pride, my lack of preparation for my job, my insecurities, had all been chinks in the armor for him to exploit. Ever since first embarassing me with the stone, he’d simply pulled and pulled until my bitchy façade was gone, and all that was left was the whimpering girl underneath, another silly young woman out of her depth in a cutthroat world.

That misstep had reduced me to this. Working in my own home, and not as a teacher, but as a footstool to my own sister.

Cindy seemed to love this part. Her feet explored every nook and cranny of my face, squashing my cheeks, toying with my lips, occasionally even tugging at my hears in play. But there was nothing playful about the way she eventually slipped her big toe into my mouth, while the other foot hooked behind my neck to regulate my pace.

“Suck,” she said simply, in-between bites of her toast. “You need practice for Mr Burns later.”

“Mpphhh,” I said, not in protest but in acknowledgement, as I swirled my tongue around her toe. She was right. I did need practice. Burns kept reminding me that my blowjobs were worse than what he got from whores in Central America. The thought that he might further demote, or even fire me over inadequate oral satisfaction made me bob my head up and down Cindy’s toe even harder.

When it withdrew, I found myself pathetically reaching forward for it, like an eager slut in need of a pacifier. Cindy stopped me with a foot against my forehead, laughing.

“Come with me, little sis. I need to paint my nails.”

I followed her on all fours like an eager puppy. My job was easy – I knelt before her and stayed absolutely still, as she again used my face like a footstool. She never used to paint her nails, but now Nick required it, and she obeyed.

I marvelled at the way the chain of command was devouring every aspect of our lives. To follow Nick’s order, Cindy was turning me into a piece of human furniture. I couldn’t see her, not with her feet covering the entirety of my face, but I knew her face would be frowning in concentration, to make sure she got the nail job absolutely right. Not a second thought given to the fact that her older sister was supporting her soles with her own face.

Our morning routines done, Cindy and I readied to leave the house – her dressed in a vaguely goth style that Nick seemed to find appealing, with a form-fitting black t-shirt and dark jeans, and me in Burns’ mandated secretary outfit – heels, nylons, short frilly skirt, and a blouse that hugged my breasts enticingly.

Once again, I considered that Cindy’s own downfall had been a lot gentler than mine. The embarassment drew color to my cheeks. I was weak. I deserved to be subjugated.

We got into my red BMW together… except I was in the passenger seat now. Glumly, I wondered how long it would be before Cindy simply seized the car for herself. But I let go of the thought with a sigh. There was no place for personal property in my life anymore.

After all…

Objects can’t own anything.

***

Cindy

The favorite part of my day was over.

With Cathy, at home, I felt like a fucking queen. I made her bow down to me, eat me out, worship my feet with a snap of fingers. All chores had been delegated to her. I owned her car, her purse, her will. It was great. It allowed me to feel like the old me, the person I once wanted to be, stepping over obstacles on my way to the top.

Even then, when I had ambitions in life and a desire to go places, I didn’t realize power could feel this sweet. Feeling a girl, an older girl, my own sister, bucking and thrashing underneath me, and then stopping as I subdued her, was the ultimate thrill. A rush of adrenaline that made all my limbs quiver and tremble.

It was the power of the predator, stifling the prey’s efforts to escape. I realized that even if Burns and Nick were to let us go now, I would keep my claws sunk into Cathy. She would never be free again, not until I was around to make sure my heel was pressed squarely against her neck.

But now, I was in class. And here, I didn’t amount to anything. I was one rung above Cathy, at the bottom of a very long ladder.

Even now that Cathy was no longer a real teacher, I was still prevented from grading her. The students gave her grades based on how well she took cruel dictation, or how deftly she brought them snacks from the vending machines. Class was chaos, with people coming and leaving as they pleased. And yet, even still, Irene’s rule remained – I was not to vote. It was a burning humiliation. And it wasn’t the only one.

I sat alone.

What posse I once had was completely gone now, melted like summer snow. I could see laughter and mockery in my classmates’ eyes as I acted like Nick’s girlfriend in public, simping hard for him and hanging by his every words like they were God’s own wisdom.

At least he wasn’t in class now, I thought, twirling my hair with my fingers in stress. Every time he was around, he made sure to turn me into everyone’s laughing stock. They didn’t know I was a lesbian, of course, but they knew I hated him. And yet here I was now, tittering around him like a silly girl with a crush on the ripped, powerful football player with the big shoulders and the square chin.

Here, once more, I drew a little consolation from my sister’s downfall. Whenever Cathy was performing some particularly humiliating duty, she drew attention to her like honey and flies. Everyone else forgot about me for a few, blessed moments.

Right now, Cathy was kneeling in the middle of class, right next to Celeste – one of the most insufferable queen bees at Crawford High. Her parents were old money, and thus Burns’ friends. Somehow, I doubted that it was a coincidence that Cathy seemed so eager to serve her.

“You’re the worst secretary I’ve ever seen,” Celeste said in a fit of giggles, causing a bout of general hilarity all around her. “You can’t even take dictation!”

“B-but, Miss Harper…” Cathy stammered, with big frightful eyes that made her look like a dumb puppy. She looked up to Celeste, and then down, to the socked feet she was humbly massaging, and then up again, questioningly.

Celeste threw her an admonishing look. “Don’t you dare stop your massage, Cathy.”

My sister whimpered, defeated. She couldn’t take dictation without taking her hands off Celeste’s feet, and was thus doomed to fail. Celeste gave a victorious smirk, and resumed dictating.

“I’m not good enough to be a teacher,” she dictated to Cathy, whose lips trembled in humiliation and defeat. She looked on the verge of tears, while Celeste rubbed the bottom of her other socked foot onto her hair, matting it with sweat. “I have my own students train me to be a secretary,” Celeste continued. “I’m not good enough. I don’t deserve this job.”

I had to admit, much as I disliked Celeste, the sadistic streak impressed me. Unlike Cathy’s intelligence, or lack thereof. I shook my head. Didn’t she see that Burns was setting her up for failure? He was right, she truly was a dumb slut. I hoped he demoted her even further. The thought made me press my thighs together in sudden arousal. God, I wanted to give her another ride, put her well and truly in her place.

But then, I remembered I was in class. I was powerless here.

Largely thanks to that bitch, Irene…

I could swear there was something different this morning. She sat royally atop Cathy’s desk, like usual, one booted leg crossed over the other. But she was ignoring Cathy. Her eyes were drilled into me. It was honestly quite creepy, and it made me fidget in my chair.

Her constant leering was putting me in a foul mood. All of a sudden, I felt almost like I was in danger, like she was going to spring some trap on me.

I was just being silly. She’d got so much under my skin that I was becoming paranoid. With a shake of my head, I got up and left class, Irene’s gaze burning at the back of my neck. I needed a breath of fresh air.

At leas there were benefits to the chaos – no one tried to stop me as I headed into the hallway. I wanted to find a quiet corner where to clear my thoughts.

Steps resounded behind me. Before I could turn around, Nick’s voice sounded in my ears.

“Hey baby,” he said, his hands reaching out to grab my tits. Ugghh, why did he have to be so handsy all the time?

Burns was drilling the need for me to be a proper girlfriend into me. Open and available and someone popular, not a total frigid dyke bitch that everyone would hate. But… I couldn’t get Irene out of my head, I was cranky, I just wasn’t in the mood now. Burns had told me to be Nick’s girlfriend, not his fuckslave.

“Not now, asshole,” I said, spinning away from him. But my heart skipped a beat when I saw his face darken.

“No?” Nick said, as if he wasn’t comprehending the word. I shivered. I’d always seen Nick as this dumb asshole, a bully with an inverse correlation between brain and muscle size, but now… I realized he didn’t like to be contradicted. All of a sudden, I felt scared, vulnerable. And, to my undying embarassment… very girly.

“I don’t think I can be with a girl who keeps saying no,” Nick said, his eyes glimmering. “I might have to break up with you, at this rate.”

God. I felt a moment of dizzying confusion. Was that good or bad? Burns wanted me to be his girlfriend, but what if he willingly turned it down? Did it free me from the obligation, or would it get me demoted like Cathy? My brain couldn’t decide whether to feel scared or elated, so I just stared at him like a complete airhead.

I saw in his shit-eating grin that he was thinking the same. “Pretty dumb, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll spell it out for you. If we break up, I’ll have to tell everyone you’re a bitch and a dyke and that they should steer well clear of you.”

I gulped. Nick probably felt himself surpassingly clever for dangling this threat before me, but the truth was, it was working.

Because all of a sudden, in my mind’s eye, I saw the stone. Every time I blinked I saw it spinning in the air, drawing my darkest fears out of the recesses of my brain. This couldn’t happen! I would be outed, and nobody would love me, and I’d lose everything!

Instantly, tears welled in my eyes. Fully aware of what I was doing, and how deeply I was betraying my gender and my lesbian orientation, I thrust my breasts at him, openly, invitingly.

“Please sir,” I said in a whisper. “Take what is yours…”

I hated myself. I felt the walls of my self-esteem narrow and crumble, like there was less space for me to be me after this humiliating concession. Nick was taking a chunk of me away, and I could do nothing to stop him.

Nick’s eyes ogled me from hair to toes, and the grin never left his face. He recognized his own victory.

“Oh, I will,” he said with glee, “but not like this.” He reached out to grab my hand.

I looked on numbly as he led me by the hand into the boys bathroom, and then into a stall. That in and of itself made me feel vulnerable and small, my girly wrist trapped in the iron grip of a strong man, being dragged like a prize to where he could claim me in peace.

Was I really so easily led? Was my feminism truly so much make-believe that I could stand up to a man, when in truth, I was putty in his hands?

Nick joined me inside the stall, latching the door shut behind us, then turning towards me with a feral grin.

In the confined space of the bathroom, he looked even bigger. He towered head and shoulders above me, a mountain of pure muscle, made to pin down a girl underneath him, and make her squirm. I might be a lesbian, but my fucked-up, stone-fixated brain saw that nature wanted me to squeal and yielp underneath him.

His strong hands gripped my shoulders, and pushed me to my knees.

I was such a parody of a lesbian, being forced to kneel in the boys’ bathroom while my overbearing boyfriend slapped my cheeks with his newly-freed dick. The earthy, pungent smell filled my nostrils, the musky scent of dominance. His maleness, overpowering my femininity – such a primal, natural image that even I was vulnerable to it.

I was unsure what to do, but Nick clearly had no interest in my initiative. He grabbed the back of my neck, and unceremoniously stuck his dick into my mouth. Pushing my own protests and professions of lesbianism back down my throat. Uncaring for my preferences, just determined to take what he wanted with no regard for my own personhood.

I hated it, but a part of me felt like these truly were the proper gender roles.

“You don’t say no to me,” he growled, gripping my head and thrusting back and forth. I gasped as he pumped, uncomfortably conscious of the grimy bathroom floor beneath my knees, of the way my legs folded underneath me to place me in a lesser position, of the way my lips seemed sculpted to welcome his cock into my mouth.

I was a lesbian, so it was okay if I was sucking cock. I didn’t actually mean it. I was just getting out of trouble, I needed to remember that. But it was hard, so hard, looking up at him roughly using my face for his pleasure like it was a pussy. I whimpered, and in spite of my better judgement, I found myself sucking.

Burns wanted me to do this.

I deserved to do this. I was defeated. I had to prove I was worthy of love.

I put so much passion into an act that nominally disgusted me, swirling my tongue around his cock as it rammed at the entrance of my lesbian throat, conquering it for himself and for all men in general, asserting the male privilege of getting off over my pretenses to identify as a lesbian.

Slowly but surely, his cock made it to the entrance of my throat. Inexperienced, I gagged and salivated abundantly all over, but he didn’t relent. He angled my head for better access, and pushed into my gullet, gripping my head firmly as I squirmed and cried and thrashed weakly in his hands.

The sounds I was making were alien to my ears. The squealing and gurgling of a defeated slut as her master puts her to good use. He didn’t care that I was choking, that my heart was racing, that I was panicking. All he cared about was burying his dick into my throat, to show me who was boss.

When his balls slapped against my chin, I knew that I had lost, and that he was right. I would never dare say no to a man again.

At last, Nick withdrew, allowing me to breathe and cough.

“You’ve ruined your makeup,” he said, his fingers tracing my tears on my cheeks. “Hot!”

His jock enthusiasm sent shivers of disgust through me. He liked me battered and broken, a woman forced into ultimate submission, her own makeup ruined and turned into a mask of shame and sexual defeat. That was so wrong, and yet at once so right.

I went back to sucking on his dick. I bobbed my head, hollowing my cheeks as I submitted to him completely.

I knew Nick wasn’t experienced. I knew he was horny all the time. Already I could feel him losing control as he got tired of my demure ministrations, and returned to fucking my mouth like a pussy. His groans were so loud that I feared someone outside might hear.

God, what if the boys found us like this? What if they wanted their turn? What if I was reduced to school cocksucker, spending the rest of my education in the bathroom, on my knees? I’d be the worst lesbian in the world, literally forced off her education and reduced to be a slut at the beck and call of men.

But they would like me.

“That’s my dyke toy,” Nick managed to say as his cock slid humiliatingly back to the entrance of my throat. I accepted his mastery of me, and submitted completely as he rammed his dick into my throat one final time, erupting with a groan and a tighter grip that made my skull pound.

I took his spunk, load after load, the ultimate gesture of submission – a lesbian, turning herself over to be a cum receptacle for men. I knew Nick loved it. I could see the supreme masculine affirmation in his eyes while he stared into my own.

I knew he saw only feminine meekness in them.

We stayed like that for a while afterwards. I obediently polished and licked his cock with my tongue, while his rough, wiry hands ran through my hair.

“You’re never going to deny me again,” he said, in an oddly sweet tone, as I suckled. “Isn’t that right, honey?”

I momentarily ceased my sucking to stare at him with big, submissive eyes. Here he was, this jock I nominally despised, but whose mastery over me was undeniable. He’d broken me. Was that what men did to girls, all the world over? Maybe it was. Maybe it was always going to end this way, with me underneath Burns… and him.

“Never again,” I said, sealing my fate forever. “Sir.”

***

Cathy

I applied the lipstick, with the deliberate care of a surgeon in the operating room. It had to be perfect.

I had to be perfect.

I looked at my own reflection in the mirror, and a stranger stared back.

The woman I looked like was not the real me. She looked ready for a hot date – a considerably male centric date, at that – rather than for work as a teacher. My foundation and eyeliner, the fancy styling of my hair, the fire-engine-red lipstick that seemed to shout cocksucker, all these cultural signifiers would have been completely alien to me a short time ago.

I wanted to be a professional woman. I wanted my teaching to mean something, to change the lives of young people, to impart in them the importance of inclusiveness, feminism, and change. Instead, here I was, checking that my frilly skirt reached the mandated length and not one inch further down, that the pantyhose had no rips of any kind, that my nipples were showing through my blouse.

I knew I had failed every single one of the tasks Burns set before me that morning. I couldn’t take dictation from Celeste. I brought coffee to my math-teaching colleague Simon, only to discover he’s holidaying in the Appalachians. I spent all day tracking down a student’s parents, only to find out said student had switched school on the first week of the semester.

And that was why, now, I needed to be perfect. An office floozy and sex doll, whose every step had to be measured and calculated for male pleasure and approval.

I blinked slowly in the mirror, taking in the way in which my big, scared eyes made me look like a slut.

I might not be a feminist or even a teacher anymore, but I would not give Burns grounds to demote me even further. This was where it stopped. This, and no more. I had to stop dwelling on how far I’d fallen, and focus on not falling any further. On not fucking up again.

I exhaled slowly, willing the tension to leave my body. Then, I forced myself to leave the bathroom, and marched to Burns’ office – or did the best impression of a march I could, while teetering on the high heels he enforced.

As always, the boss’ office was a constant sensory assault. It was a… manly haze of scents. Leather, sweat, smoke, old paper. More than an office, this was a veritable man-cave, a seat of power, a place that was, in a way, all Burns. From the mahogany desk to the leather chairs to the cigar butts, everything was undisputably his.

That included me, I considered gloomily, but with a degree of fatalism, too. The female employee he’d resoundly put back in her place.

He was an orderly man. The papers on his desk were always stuck just-so. The books on the shelves were arranged in alphabetical order. And my clothing… well, it made only sense that I was subjected to the same rules as his other possessions.

Kept in order. Under control. Little more than furniture for his office.

“Clothing inspection,” Burns said at last, standing up from his chair. Absurdly, I was grateful to him – sometimes he kept me waiting for ages, and I would have to keep presenting, until he decided to indulge my servility.

“Thank you Sir,” I immediately said as he rounded the desk to approach me. I didn’t mutter it under my breath, not this time. I said it loud and clear, looking down in deference, but still proud of his attentions.

I had certainly come a long way, since he first broke me in. In a way, so had he. I could remember a time when he performed these clothing inspections sitting down. Now, though…

Now, he drew close to me. His man-sweat filled my nostrils, and his ragged breathing echoed against my ears, as he pressed himself closer to me.

His big, firm hands grasped the back of my thighs with such possessive authority that I shivered. It made me give a whole new meaning to the concept of being manhandled. After so many sessions spent on my knees before him, or bent over his desk, I immediately associated this predatory, authoritarian grasp that brooked no arguments with arousal.

I kept my composure, in spite of my growing excitement, as his hands ran down my nyloned legs, then up my sides, flicking my erect nipples through the blouse. His left hand found my throat, and gently cradled it in its grasp, while the right pushed past my slutty lips. With a defeated moan, I began to suckle at his fingers like my life depended on it.

Like I was starring in a crappy porn shoot, written and shot exclusively with the male gaze in mind.

“You pass,” Burns told me with a final slap against my rear, which made me squeal like a schoolgirl. I looked at him all doe-eyed, pouting my lips. I… I wasn’t even sure why, but on some level, I wanted him to take me for his pleasure, then and there. If this truly was what my job depended on, then I wanted to perform it to the best of my abilities.

I watched closely, waiting for Burns to sit back down in his chair with a sigh, before I pivoted seductively on my heels. “Should I get on my knees, Sir?”

“Huh?” Burns said, as if lost in thought. “No, thank you Cathy, that won’t be necessary, you can head out. Please send Cindy in, I have half a mind to give her a ride before I close shop.”

Absurdly, the words hurt. They struck at the very foundations of my confidence, and sent a bout of anxiety racing through me. How could I keep this job if I didn’t… if Burns wouldn’t even…

Stupidly, I opened and closed my mouth multiple times. Then, I gathered my wits.

“Are you sure that will be all, Sir?”

Burns arched an eyebrow, studying me. A part of me felt he was plainly manipulating me, but of course I had no margins left to challenge his will in any way – my entire professional career depended on this man, and his word was law. Had been, since the very first setback with the stone.

“Not today, Cathy,” he said, almost apologetically. But then, he smiled. “Tell you what, though. You could stand by the door, and listen. I’m sure you might learn something.”

I gaped at him in outrage and despair, as an evil smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“After all,” he said, “your sister is just a much better fuck.”

***

A part of me couldn’t believe what I was about to do. What I was about to offer Burns. Couldn’t believe that I had every intention of finally convincing him to do something that nominally repulsed me – that I wanted him to fuck me again, and secure my working position forever.

The other part, though?

The part that warmed with approval when I caught a reflection of my form-fitting clothes and killer body in the mirror, the part that increasingly associated Burns’ manly scent and gruff manners with arousal, the part that recognised the erotic power of subordination?

That part of me was more than ready to go along with this.

I had pulled all the stops. Went up from three inch heels to five, chose my shortest skirt, unbuttoned my blouse as far as I dared. I looked nothing like a teacher, hell, nothing like a secretary either. I was a parody of a bad office porn shoot. An object of pure, unadulterated male fantasy.

But if that was my job description, then work ethic demanded that I performed it to the best of my ability.

Right?

I sighed, faltering, my hand toying with the handle to Burns’ office door. It felt like the wires inside my own head were hopelessly crossed. I could barely even remember… I couldn’t follow the logical chain of sequential thoughts towards any other conclusion.

I had to be Burns’ model employee.

I hated myself for it. I hated my willingness to stoop to every low if it meant I could keep my job. I had long since swallowed any residue of dignity together with Burns’ cum, and then thanked him for the privilege. He really had destroyed me.

Still, there was no room for doubt. I had to see this through. To push on forward. And so with a last intake of breath, I opened the door, and entered his office for yet another morning inspection to start my new workday.

“Good morning, Sir,” I said docilely, waiting for him to acknowledge him. It was a good wait, in its own way. Humbling.

He gave a grunt, but when he looked up, there was no mistaking the sparkle of attention, curiosity, and greed in his eyes. A smile played across my lips at that. He wouldn’t prefer Cindy to me, not this time.

I matched my presentation with enthusiasm. As he neared me for my inspection, I stepped towards him. When his hands cupped my thighs and my butt, I leaned into them, and when he squeezed softly, I bit my lower lip, in a display of sexual tension that soon had his pants bulge.

I was wanton. Open. Available.

Submissive.

I knew women found they could exert control over their chosen targets by seducing them, but this wasn’t what was happening here. I could see the glimmer in Burns’ eyes. Yes, he was tempted. Yes, he wanted more.

But I also knew that he’d shaped me, sculpted me, trained me to behave like this. I couldn’t quite grasp what angle he’d worked exactly, but I could see that I was unfolding before him, defenseless, manipulated, played like a fiddle.

As Burns’ hand gripped my hair and pulled, forcing me to look up at him with big scared eyes, I felt like the horse, coming under the rider’s control.

Brought to heel, and domesticated.

“Alright, girl,” he said, and I hated that I found his condescending tone sexy now. “Get on the desk.”

I didn’t get anywhere – he positioned me himself, one hand clutching at my hair and the other resting possessively from my rear. I yielped in surprise at his strength, as he folded me in two beneath him like it was nothing. I was just a plaything in his hands, and in spite of myself, it made my heart race.

This felt… good. Right. My proper place in life. And the thought alone of securing my job like this made me glow in safety and happiness.

“You want me to pass on that sweet piece of ass you call a sister?” Burns said, lowering my panties, exposing me to the air. “Well, I suppose you call her Miss Cooper these days,” he said, with a slap on my behind.

I grimaced, both from the stinging, and the humiliation. “Yes, Sir,” I said in half a whisper. And then… knowing that there would be no going back… I made my offer.

“Sir, I… there is one hole of mine you haven’t claimed yet.”

I said it in such a small voice that Burns had to hold his breath to hear it. It wasn’t the voice of a professional, working woman, it was the feeble offer of a defeated girl, proclaiming her own unconditional surrender.

I had no worries about him being dry. Burns was an orderly man, and never came to work without a bottle of lube on hand – a very thoughtful planner. I couldn’t even decide if I meant that ironically or not, but as he lubed up, I got a few seconds to think about my predicament.

I briefly wondered what Richard would think if he could see me now. I’d never even allowed him more than providing me with oral sex, and here I was now, offering my anal virginity to my own boss, in exchange for not being further demoted, or even fired.

I was a worthless slut.

I screamed in surprise as I immediately felt something press against the entrance to my asshole. His cock slid into my crack, as he secured his hold on my hair even further. He adjusted himself behind me, slapping my rear again for good measure, before pushing forward.

I whimpered, as my anal ring stretched to take his cock. Why did it have to be so thick?

“I knew you’d come round to this, eventually,” he said from above me, so far above me, in a gruff masculine voice that made me shiver. “Offering yourself to me. You’re learning.”

I gasped as he plunged deeper into me.

I bit my lip, pushing back against the pain and friction that filled me. I gritted my teeth and braced myself. This was painful, and humiliating – but it would save my job. I just knew it, in my heart.

Burns grunted. “Tight. Maybe tightest I’ve had.”

A part of me swooned at his words – so demeaning, so objectifying, so… stroking to my ego, the feminine pride he was sculpting and moulding out of my independent persona. I bucked underneath him, wondering how many others girls he’d broken in like this, how many silly feminists who thought they could stand up to him, right until the moment when they found themselves bent over his desk.

I whimpered from the friction of his penetration, squirming weakly under his big, firm hands, until he bottomed out inside me. Slowly, he began riding me, back and forth, back and forth, gathering speed. The pain was coarse and raw, but with it, a subtle pleasure began to mount… and my mind began to wander in its wake.

I was bent over the desk. The ultimate form of female workplace humiliation, with my face towards the door, vulnerably exposed to anyone coming in. My own boss was having his way with me, ploughing into my ass with no regard for my wishes. I existed for his whims, and all I could do was whimper and moan and beg to not be demoted.

“That’s it,” he said. “Where you belong. You used to look down at me so much, you remember that? Now I’m the one looking down at you.”

He was right. I’d been a haughty bitch. And now… now, his cock was splitting me in two, while I bucked helplessly underneath him.

His words made something click inside me. It was a heady mix of resignation, fatalism, and humble acceptance of my defeat. He’d turned the tables on me, and firmly put me in my place. I started to bounce back on his cock, riding, ignoring my discomfort.

“Good girl,” he said, and I clenched my ass around his dick in response. His words went straight to my pussy. That’s what I was, after all. A good girl. A worthless slut. A plaything at the beck and call of men.

My ass was basically gripping his dick at this point. I burned with shame, arousal, and defeat. The humiliation was getting me going, a lot more than the physical stuff – but there was no doubting his physical mastery of my body. And it did have an effect on me.

My ass was milking his cock, looking for his seed.

The pain from the friction slowly morphed into heat, a lancing fire that went right to my cunt. I barely had time to realise what was happening – all of a sudden, it was over me. A powerful, devastating orgasm, rippling outwards until my muscles were quivering under the strain. I didn’t even try to hold back the moans that came out of my mouth, as Burns rammed into me over and over again.

“Enjoy that, you little gender traitor,” he said, panting and grunting. “Cum your brains out for me. Feel your dignity leak out of you with your pussy cream. That’s it. Good girl.”

He plunged inside me to the hilt as he said that, and my eyes rolled back into my skull, his words still ringing through my ears.

And then, before I knew it, he’d slid out of me. He hadn’t cum, not yet, but I barely had the cognizance to fully process this. I was spent, broken, draped over the desk like a piece of folded cloth.

Burns, however, wasn’t done with me, and once more I found myself marvelling at his impressive stamina. He flipped me over with humiliating ease, then dragged me down to the floor. All of a sudden, I found myself kneeling before his massive presence.

A familiar position by now.

I opened my mouth almost by reflex, before I realized what was about to happen. It was the sour scent that hit me first, the musky tone that invaded my nostrils just as his cock pushed past my lips. I looked up at him in horror, but before I could move, his hands gripped my head, freezing me in place.

He leered down at me.

“Clean it, slut,” he said. “And get me off.”

“Uggghhh,” I moand, and “eeek,” and “ghhaakkk,” but it was no use. Burns was leveraging his grip on my head to facefuck me. I shuddered at the taste and the implications – I was cleaning my own asshole off his dick.

This was so much worse than just being a cocksucker. He was right, I was cleaning him. I quivered and tried to resign myself to my fate, relaxing into his hands. He moved my head up and down the length of his cock, using my lips like a rag to polish it, the head plunging over and over at the entrance to my throat.

“You’re a worthless slut!” he shouted, thrusting forward, assaulting my mouth with his cock like it was a pussy for him to use. I blinked, looking up at his blurry figure through tear-filled eyes, as he subdued my throat and conquered my independence forever.

When the ropes of his cum hit the back of my throat, one after the other, I knew he was marking me for good. That I was his property, and his territory, and his secretary.

And his good girl.

I collapsed back onto the floor, breathing in, recovering from the absolute devastation, from the mind-shattering mix of humiliation and pleasure that had just rocked my very foundations as a person.

My abasement was now complete. But at least, I thought to myself, nothing else could possibly threaten my position at school, as Burns’ loyal sex pet of a secretary.

Nothing.

***

Cindy

I met my sister in the parking lot. I’d gotten here first – doubtlessly while she serviced Burns in some way or other – and couldn’t wait to drive us both back home. My humiliation with Nick still smarted, and I felt like the worst lesbian of all time, ever. At least back at home I could unwind a little by using Cathy as my personal punching bag.

For a brief moment, though, we shared a kind of understanding with one another. A sort of, how has your day been moment. Another bizarre day in our bizarre lives, in this school where nothing works the way it’s supposed to.

I decided to verbalize the feeling before we got in the car.

“How was your day, Cathy?”

“It was… trying, Miss Cooper,” she said, slipping naturally into slavish deference towards me. “But I feel like I accomplished what I wanted.”

It was hard to take her seriously, I considered with an arched eyebrow. She looked… out of sorts. Hair disheveled, eyes downcast, clothes a bit rumpled, and precisely zero self-confidence. Not just a freshly fucked girl, but one that’s been broken in like a horse. Reminded that, to the patriarchy, it didn’t truly matter what she wanted – it would stake a claim on her anyway.

In other words, she looked just like me.

And yet, I clearly rescued my girlfriend role with Nick, and she must have shored up her professional position as Burns’ office floozy. So in a way, I assumed we did both get what we wanted. Right?

I nodded in affirmation, and made to get in the car, when the heavy-set sound of boots made me turn my head.

It was all I could do to not snarl, at the sight of Irene Cain making her way towards us in the deserted parking lot.

Cathy, of course, was her usual, spineless self.

“Miss Cain,” she said, respectfully, while I bristled besides her.

Irene stepped so close, she was almost in our personal space, and said nothing. Her silence was becoming unnerving, much like the shit-eating grin she had on her face. She fished her phone out of her pocket, holding it theatrically in the air before us. An audio file was on the main screen, and Irene pressed play.

As the sounds began echoing in the parking lot, blood drained from my face.

It was clearly the sound of two girls, moaning and panting and grunting in pleasure. And they were familiar.

“You want to breathe, little sis?” A lust-filled voice said in the recording. It was, undisputably, my own. “Then lick me. Serve me. Worship me.”

Irene made a show of pausing the recording, and slid her phone back into her pocket. “So,” she said, “I know normally this part includes a lot of theatre, but let’s cut to the chase, shall we? Bitch,” she said in my direction, and then, “whore,” nodding towards my sister – “you’re mine, now. Is that understood?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but no sooner had Irene finished speaking that Cathy was already hitting the tarmac with her knees. I looked at her in astonishment.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Cathy looked up at me, her big doe eyes suddenly filled with uncertainty. But she quickly regained her composure, and respectfully addressed me from her knees.

“Miss Cooper, the last time this happened… with Nick…” she equivocated, looking away, but then back at me. “I tried to resist the blackmail, and that endangered Burns. That’s what eventually led to my demotion in the first place. You don’t want to make the same mistake.”

I gaped at her, uncomprehending, too stunned for words. My mouth opened and closed, but I couldn’t produce a sound.

“Burns told me,” Cathy continued, her voice half a whisper by now. “I shouldn’t have made a fuss about it, just gave Nick what he wanted from the off without being an insufferable bitch.”

Irene could barely control her giggling. “This is too good!” She said, laughing. “Is this for real? Have y’all actually gone insane?”

Her words washed over me, half-ignored. My mind was suddenly back in Burns’ office, back in that headspace of despondency and fear. I couldn’t afford to be an insufferable bitch. Insufferable bitches were unlovable. They got to live and die alone, shunned by all of humanity.

It was Irene that broke the reverie for me. Her fit of hilarity had ended, and her impatience was back in full swing. She reached out, pressing a hand roughly against the top of my head, and pushing.

“Down, bitch,” she said, her words lashing out like a whip, and in spite of my own outrage, I found myself descending to my knees.

I looked up at Irene from down here, intimidated and overawed. She was tall, slightly curvier than me but also physically strong, with an evil sadistic smirk that made her look like a predator. From down here, she looked even more imposing.

She towered above me like royalty, her shapely thighs and menacing equestrian boots dominating my field of view, while her locks framed a face that was both pretty and cruel. She’d been manipulating me into this position right from the start, I knew.

She’d stripped away my right to vote, demoted me from feared cutthroat class queen to emarginated loser, demonstrated her clear superiority over my own sister… and now here I was, seeing her victorious grin, thinking about the stone, knowing that I would have to obey her, just like Cathy obeyed Nick, if I wanted to avoid being a stupid bitch.

“Kiss my boots,” Irene said, and her voice had the sharp edge of lust I knew all too well by now. I swallowed my pride, bowed down before my arch-rival, and got to work.

This was psychologically crushing in ways that I could barely process. First Burns and Nick – men! – and now, my old time nemesis. My control over Cathy suddenly seemed like nothing to write home about. I might not be dead last in the pecking order, but everyone kept reminding that, in the grand scheme of things, I was still a servant.

Absurdly, as my lips made contact with Irene’s boots, I thought that it wasn’t all that unpleasant. The surface was smooth, polished, and hard. I rained kisses all over Irene’s right boot, while Cathy did the same with the left. I made my way from the tip to the ankle, then down to the sides, then back up again.

My own enthusiasm took me aback. Why such a complete lack of reluctance? Had Burns and Nick really drilled such a change into me, that I buckled completely as soon as someone gave me an order? Did I deserve to be down there, on my knees, showering her boot in kisses?

I certainly knew Irene thought so. I didn’t even need to look at her, to know she was basking in the full extent of her victory.

“Lick my boots,” she said, her voice positively husky by now. “Lick them the way you lick each other’s cunts, the way you feast on Burns’ dick. Polish them, while I tell you how things are going to be.”

I whimpered, the cruel weight of her words crushing me down even further. I knelt so close to the ground that I felt like a worm more than a person, but the thought of disobeying never even crossed my mind. Hesitantly, I stuck my tongue out, touching the leather surface with the tip. It tasted funny, dry and strong, leaving a weird aftertaste.

I gave a few timid licks. It was embarassing, how shiny the boot looked where my tongue had passed. I thought back to all the online arguments about politics, with people calling one another bootlicker in an offensive manner, or asking if they enjoyed deepthroating someone’s boot, and now here I was – a literal bootlicker.

Would it come down to that? Would Irene make me deepthroat her boots, too?

“You’re going to tell Burns about this,” Irene instructed, “explain that I’m no threat to him. That I’m happy to keep this quiet, so long as you act like my two little lezzie slaves.”

Cathy moaned in arousal next to me, while I gave tiny, timid licks. God, my sister was such a whore.

“I’m going to make you worship every pair of shoes and boots that I own,” Irene continued, and I idly wondered whether she was rubbing herself now, while I applied my ministrations to her boot. “I’m going to get so many tongue baths for my feet out of you, until you know them better than you know your own stupid whore faces.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. It was exactly what I was doing to Cathy, after all, so I had zero doubts that it could actually happen, and that Irene would see our destruction through.

“And you call that licking? Cindy, I’m gonna train you to do a lot better than this bullshit,” Irene said, lifting her right boot. I stared up in puzzlement, but didn’t get to make eye contact with her. The sole of her boot was now blocking my field of vision.

Then, the boot came down, hard.

It slammed against my cheek, twisting and thrusting downward, until its flat sole was pinning me to the tarmac. It hurt like crazy, with the rugged surface of the asphalt digging into my cheek. I thrashed and flailed, trying to break free, but Irene’s grip was incredible. The dirty, flat sole of her equestrian boot pressed down mercilessly, literally stamping her authority into my cheek.

I was immobilized. From this humiliating position, acting as Irene’s little defeated doormat. I had a perfect view of Cathy licking the other boot. If I thought I was obeying way too fast, I was clearly wrong, and I saw now why Irene was dissatisfied with my performance.

Cathy was going down on the boot like a girl possessed. She licked energetically, using as much of her tongue as she could, covering the boot from the tip to the angle with a single lap, and then again back down. She stuck her tongue in between the laces, then back down the sides, polishing and panting and making slutty faces, like she was working on a cock.

Twisting the flat heel into my face, Irene continued to outline our future, as tears openly began to stream down my face. Tears of defeat and utter humiliation.

“You think you’re hot shit, Cindy, but you’re no domme. I’m going to show you what being a domme actually looks like. I’m going to edge the both of you for hours until you beg me to let you come. I’m going to alternate pain and pleasure until your feeble brains can barely tell one from the other.”

I whimpered softly, all too conscious of my legs thrashing out weakly, while Irene’s weight subdued me.

“I’ll train you to associate pleasure with my boots and socks and feet, like a fucked up version of Pavlov’s dogs.”

“Please…” I whispered, but my strength – both mental and physical – was deserting me under Irene’s constant barrage, and her effortless domination of my face. I truly felt like a doormat. Was it really so easy to just stick a boot in my face and clean the sole on my cheek?

“I’m going to break you in with my cunt,” she said, “cut off your air supply with it, make you worship it like your life depends on it, ride your faces so hard you can never think of yourselves as anything but a sex toy ever again.”

God, that sounded… hot. So hot. And I hated my body for betraying me, for the heat building up inexorably between my legs.

“And all of that,” Irene said with a final twist of her boot into my cheek that nearly made me scream, “is only for starters”.

Cathy lapped at her boot all the faster for that, while I stopped struggling under Irene’s weight. It was futile. She’d won.

“So,” Irene said from above, her voice calming down now. “I’m getting into the car with you. We’re going back home together, to your place. We’re going to have a sleepover together! We could be study buddies!” She said that with a mock-girly voice that made my cheeks redden with utter embarassment.

But then, she immediately became serious again.

“Any objections? Whore?”

Cathy’s only response was the sound of overly enthusiastic lapping and bootlicking. She was like an eager dog.

Irene’s gaze turned back to me, the little maggot she was crushing underfoot.

“And you, bitch?”

I breathed out, and it was almost as if the last of my defiance went out with the air. Only resignation remained.

And so, with a voice that sounded more like Cathy’s than it did mine, I conceded Irene’s victory, and offered her my unconditional surrender.

“No objections,” I said in a whisper, “… Miss Cain.”

Chapter Seven: A Restoration Of Gender Roles

Cindy

I was little better than a dog.

As I panted on all fours on the floor, eagerly waiting for my owner to signal me her pleasure or displeasure, I truly understood the concept of desperately yearning for validation. If I’d had a tail, I would have wiggled it.

Unfortunately for me, Irene was paying me no mind right now. She was tired, and duly so, after spending the better part of an afternoon slowly and methodically disassembling every part of me that identified as a domme, and was now enjoying a foot tongue bath from Cathy.

Unlike me, Cathy needed no breaking. Burns, Nick and I had already ruined her beyond repair, I realized. Nothing remained of the person she used to be. She was a little, simpering mess, happy to slavishly lap at the bottoms of Irene’s feet.

Unfortunately, after today, I was well on the way to join her.

A small part of me still recoiled at seeing Irene in this house, sitting on my sofa like it was nothing, one leg draped over the other, eyes closed and face distended in pleasure as Cathy debased herself to massage her feet with her tongue.

This house had been a sanctuary. At school, I was Nick’s girlfriend and Burns’ humble servant, a demure girl whose lesbianism very much played second fiddle to the patriarchal authority being exercised on me on a daily basis. It was painful, humiliating, and traumatising.

This was a safe space, the space where I could be my old self, be in charge, assert my authority over my older – and yet now little – sister.

But I was no longer the queen of the house. Now I was on my knees too, and my old school rival had won a crushing victory over me.

My body was a vortex of overpowering sensations. My tongue ached after spending most of the afternoon, licking Irene’s boots and feet, and sucking the sweat out of her socks. She’d edged me for hours as I performed my duty, and she was right – I did learn to associate serving her with pleasure, at record speed at that, especially because such pleasure was always denied to me.

The way Irene touched me – every part of me – to stimulate my body and crash my nervous system was impressive and terrifying. She was thorough, systematic, like she was conducting an experiment on me. The words she coaxed out of my mouth… the declarations of inferiority, utter surrender, adoration, and love… she pulled them out of me with the deftness of her fingers.

And withdrew them, cruelly, every time.

I almost envied Cathy for her remorseless slavishness. She’d accepted her lot in life. Irene had stopped even trying to get a raise out of her, it was impossible: she was a doormat, and now being used as such. Stomped into the dirt like a squeaky toy.

But me, now? My denied arousal burned inside me like an animalistic, uncontrollable need. It overrid my decision-making, made me feel single-mindedly stupid.

Simplified. Reduced. Demoted. Disassembled.

Where before there was a heady concoction of plans, ambitions, fears, and opinions – all that makes us who we are as a person – there now was nothing except the raw need of a domesticated animal.

That, and Irene’s will.

If only I could get to cum, then maybe I could think clearly again…

“Having fun, whore?” Irene asked, without opening her eyes. I sensed her question wasn’t directed to Cathy.

“Please…” I whispered, whimpering.

“Please what?”

“Please Miss Cain…” I said, cringing at the words that were coming out of my mouth. “I accept your lesson, acknowledge your victory, do with me as you will, just please please please finish me off, I, I can’t…”

“Remember what I told you in the parking lot?” Irene said, smirking, eyes still closed. “I do. Word for word. I keep turning the words in my mind, they sound so good.”

I whimpered.

“I’m going to break you in with my cunt,” Irene recited, “cut off your air supply with it, make you worship it like your life depends on it, ride your faces so hard you can never think of yourselves as anything but a sex toy ever again. And all of that, only for starters”.

“I remember, Miss Cain,” I said, hanging my head downwards in defeat.

“So far, you’ve gotten a feast of boots and feet. But perhaps it’s time I truly did break you.”

I didn’t even have time to stare at her in horror. With swift and rapid motion she’d lunged off the sofa and towards me, leaving Cathy stupefied and kneeling by the sofa.

Irene crashed into me like a quarterback, sending me careening onto the floor, her weight landing atop mine, her muscles rippling against my flesh.

“I want you to struggle,” she whispered, her voice edged with lust. “Put every single ounce of resistance you have left into this moment. Because when I’m done, I want you to be all out of resistance. Forever.”

I didn’t need her prompting. My body reacted by instinct, wiggling and thrashing against the abuse I knew was coming, but I felt weakened by hours and hours of edging and torment, and Irene was so strong and self-assured as she snaked up towards my face, rubbing her sex against every inch of my body in the process, marking me with her scent like I was part of her territory.

I flailed like a bucking bronco, until her hands gripped my wrists in an iron clutch, and pushed downwards.

I was pinned, all too conscious of my legs flailing about uselessly as Irene switched to a sitting position. Her knees landed on my forearms, making me groan and whimper in pain. She towered above me, obscuring the light from the window, her face stretched into a feral smirk.

“Is this all you’ve got?”

I bucked and thrashed, but my hips had nowhere near enough energy left to throw her off. I considered lifting my legs to try and kick or push her off, but before I could even try, she reached back with her arms to grab my ankles.

Now I was really in trouble. With my arms pinned under Irene’s legs, and my own legs kept cative by her arms, I couldn’t even move without her compliance. Hell, between the compression of my chest and Irene’s weight above me, my breathing was getting a little ragged.

I was sure it was about to get a lot worse.

With a final look full of contempt at my weakness, Irene began to slide forward.

I let out muffled screams of protest as her cunt adhered to my mouth like a seal, leaving only my nose to poke out. Like this, she truly dominated the entirety of my field of vision – she seemed so large, almost otherworldly, and she intimidated the hell out of me.

I still did as she wanted me to, and as I wanted to. I struggled. I attempted to wiggle my head left and right, but that only seemed to increase her stimulation, and besides, I barely had any true wiggle room, with her crushing weight pressing down upon my face.

As my heart raced and adrenaline pumped into my system, I kept staring at this girl’s grin with eyes wide with hatred and fear. What had I ever done to her to deserve this treatment? And why was I too weak to cast off her iron rule over me?

“My terms are simple,” she said. “Licking and breathing are bundled together for you now. You won’t be doing one without the other. So, start licking… or else.”

“Mmmmpphhh!”

“Just like I thought,” she said. “That’s it. I like it when the prey is feisty.”

She slid even further forward over my face, engulfing my nose within her folds, pulling my head deeper until the tip of my nose was pressing against her clit.

It wasn’t long ago that I’d done the same thing to Cathy, but I had to recognise that next to Irene, I was an amateur. She immediately started humping my face, dragging her slick cunt over my lips, using my nose like mere masturbatory aid to get off.

She gyrated atop my face, grinding her pussy atop me and in turn my own face into the floor. She had me bent over a barrel, almost literally, and all the while, my own arousal screamed for her attention, for satisfaction, for relief.

My oversexed nervous system was starting to wind down, to lose coherence. I could think of nothing that wasn’t humping, and increasingly I saw myself as the receiver, the submissive receptacle of other people’s loads – the ultimate act of subordination. Irene had the whip hand over me, and I was chattel.

Next to her, I truly was no domme. In fact, I was her living, breathing vibrator at the moment, and both my physical strength and my mental resilience were insufficient to defend myself.

As her thighs closed around my ears, muffling my hearing, I was now truly beginning to struggle to breathe.

I moaned and bucked, thrashing with my trapped hands, praying that she would get off soon. My heart was racing like crazy.

After the longest few seconds of my life, Irene lifted herself by mere inches, her sex hovering over my face.

“Are you going to be a good girl and start licking?”

“Fuck y-mmmppphh!!” My words drowned as she lowered herself to smother me again.

I wasn’t sure how long I was going to sustain this hopeless rebellion. It was just too much. The humiliation, the sadism, the physical and mental overstimulation, the teasing and edging, the oxygen deprivation… I couldn’t keep it together. My whole body and brain were going haywire.

Again, Irene lifted herself, granting me precious mouthfuls of fresh air.

“And now?”

“Leave me al-ghhnnnnhh!”

This time, she sat atop me for long enough that my vision began to darken. I was dimly aware of the thrashing of my own limbs growing weaker and weaker. I truly was prey, being subdued by the lioness. After Burns and Nick, now she had me too. It was my place in life.

When she finally lifted, I drew in blessed lungfuls of air. They burned, but it was a sweet burn. I coughed, with my eyes tearing up.

What the hell was I doing? I let Burns treat me like I was a little pet, I let Nick force me to play submissive girlfriend to his every whims, and I’d already licked Irene’s boots and feet. What was this arbitrary line about oral even about?

Save for Cathy, no one else was below me at this point. I simply had no ounce of resistance left within me. Just like Irene said.

“And now?” Irene asked, once more.

And for some reason, my thoughts went to the stone.

The way it spun in Burns’ office, as his words slithered into my ears unimpeded. The sudden racing of my heart as I realized what my deepest fears truly were about.

So rather than answer, I fired back with a question of my own.

“Am I an insufferable bitch?” I asked, my lips trembling as tears danced in my eyes. “Unlovable and unlikeable?”

Irene chuckled, seemingly amused by my non-sequitur. “Of course you are. You deserve everything I’m doing to you, and more.”

“If I s-s-submit…” I said, desperately trying to keep my voice from breaking up, “will you l-l-like me?”

“Now now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Irene said, mindlessly humping my chin with her sex. “Let’s say I could maybe tolerate your presence if you were nothing more than a human pet.”

I nodded, silently. That would have to be enough for me.

And so, I closed my eyes, lifted my head, and got to work – and when my upper lips met her lower lips, it felt like a seal on my new status in life.

As a cuntpet. A pussyslave. A handmaiden. A servant girl.

But not an insufferable bitch. Not anymore. Never again.

***

Cathy

“It’s my fault, really,” Burns said, scratching his chin in thought.

I tittered before him like a schoolgirl waiting to be scolded. I knew I’d done the right thing. I’d given myself to Irene, just like he said I should have done with Nick right from the off. But his facial expression was unreadable, and his response, cryptic.

That was enough to send my stupid girl’s heart into a tizzy, of course. What if he disapproved of me? What did I do wrong? I could still smell and taste every inch of Irene’s body – her feet in particular – on my lips and tongue. Wasn’t that what Burns wanted for me? To make me into a trick-turning whore?

“You see, Cathy,” he continued, “when a child does something especially irresponsible and stupid, it’s the parents’ fault. They’re the responsible adults in the scenario provided. They’re the educators and guardians.”

The old me might have said but I’m not a child, and besides, I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong. But that old me was gone, slowly moulded and modelled and whipped into shape under Burns’ powerful, masculine, authoritative hands. So I kept my cocksucking mouth shut, and nodded submissively.

I knew he liked it if I kept my legs barely bent, just so, to make me look a little shorter. I matched that with a slightly bent posture, pouty lips, and lowered eyes. Everything about me screamed low. It also communicated deference, servility, obedience.

Instinctually, I always acted like I was about to be scolded, and sought refuge in my female vulnerability to shield myself, as so many women have done before, in this cruel patriarchal world.

“It’s a bit like that with men and women,” Burns said, taking a long draft from his cigar. “Especially with dumb, worthless sluts like you. You’re just not good enough to think for yourself, and that’s not your fault. I should have given you clearer instructions.”

At this point I was openly whimpering like a dog. What did I do wrong? Why couldn’t I hold down any job? Why was I born so stupid?

“Sir…” I started. “It’s just that with Nick… you told me I should have been… immediately available… protect your position…”

“Shhh, shhh,” he said, silencing me, not unkindly. “I know, little pet. You were doing what you thought was best. Come here and suck my cock while I explain to you why you’re too stupid to ever do anything right.”

Tears welled in my eyes, and my lips trembled, but obedience steadied myself. Burns really was like pure steel, and by obeying him, I strengthened myself too. Who knew where I’d be without him?

So I shuffled forward, sinking to my knees and crawling under the desk, defeated and domesticated. How many times have I performed this ultimate pledge of loyal service to male rule? How many more await me in the future?

I didn’t hesitate in my role as a piece of office furniture. No sooner was I under the desk that my lips sealed around his cock with familiar devotion, and I immediately started hollowing my cheeks, bobbing my head up and down, and making all the wet slutty gagging noises I knew him to like.

Nothing about this was even remotely built for female pleasure – it was all him. He got the nice, sloppy, respectful, submissive blowjob. I got his fat dick in my mouth, the stuffiness underneath the chair, the cold hard floor against my knees, his hand grabbing a fistful of my hair, and literally nothing else. It was humiliating, and demeaning, and inconsiderate…

And hot. And purely because of they psychological and physical mastery he displayed over me, my pussy spasmed all the same.

“See,” he said, his hands running possessively through my hair. “I have no objection to Irene using you and your sister. Hell, you exist to please your superiors, really. I was the one to teach you that lesson, I’m hardly going to tell you that your consent matters. It really, really doesn’t.”

As if to prove his point, I punctuated his words with loud, slutty sucking sounds – basically all I did at Crawford High these days. Use any one of my holes to obediently and punctilously milk as much cum out of Burns and Nick’s cocks as I could.

“However,” he continued, “what disappoints me is that you were so stupid that you got caught. You gave Irene the ammunition and confidence she needed to start using you. On the one hand this is incredibly amusing. You just can’t help interact with people without being enslaved by them, can you? That’s your lot in life. With a leash on your neck and a cock in your mouth.”

Every inch of my body, all my mental energy, it was all purely devoted to serving, and pleasing, and taking load after load after load…

“Still, you got caught, and now I have to deal with both Irene and Nick having rights to your holes. This annoys me, Cathy. It makes my work more complicated. A good secretary is supposed to make my life simple, not hard. Which is why I’m afraid I have to review your position.”

My eyes widened in horror, but Burns’ firm grip on my head ensured that I stayed in place, acting like a good holster for his cock. His pacing increased, and my body quivered with the combination of arousal, humiliation, adrenaline, and fear.

I was being demoted, overpowered, and mouthfucked, all at the same time, and it was too much for my rudimentary female nervous system to take. I was going to crash.

“Yes, that’s it, take it. Deeper. Show me your gratitude as I demote you.”

And I did, sucking for all I was worth, trusting him to chart whatever future he deemed suitable for me. I didn’t have any say in it.

“Don’t worry, slut. I’ve got a position in mind that even a simple-minded girl like you couldn’t possibly screw up. One that suits you much better than being a teacher.”

I existed to sheathe his cock.

“You’ll be my maid.”

There was nothing in my head, save for what was in my mouth. The object of my oral worship.

“Your duties will be simple. You’ll cook and clean for me. You’ll spend your days barefoot in the kitchen – save for the stockings I’ll have you wear, of course. Your human interactions will only be with me, Cindy, Irene, Nick – people who are your superiors and can be trusted to supervise you, just to make sure you don’t fuck up.”

Even as my intellect began shutting down, my thoughts trickling down my thighs with my arousal, a small, dim part of me could still appreciate the work of art that Burns had done with me.

Isolating me, like in a cult. Slowly severing, altering, or poisoning every one of my human interactions, until all that remained was – well, slavery.

“I have even more security measures I want to implement to make sure that you do this one job right, and I don’t have to fire you. There’s no easy way to put it, so let’s just rip off the bandaid. You’re being rolled back to when women weren’t legally adults.”

Oh God. I was so utterly ruined that the mere idea of being reduced in this way set ablaze a fire of arousal the likes of which I’d never experienced.

“That’s right. I’m stripping you of your political and civil rights. No more voting. No more activism of any kind – in fact you have no right to personal opinions any longer. You’ll give me control of your bank account, you couldn’t possibly be trusted with your own money.”

I moaned around his cock, and it was a murmur, a question, and a prayer… and the humming clearly pleased him.

He was fucking my face like it was a fleshlight at this point.

“The alternative is you just get fired.”

Never. I would never let him down, ever again. I’d failed as a teacher, failed as a secretary…

But I wouldn’t fail at this. At being his maid, his whore, his little brain-poisoned gender traitor, his submissive girl who cums her brains out to the thought of surrendering her career and bank account to the iron fist of the patriarchy, and would rather choke on cock than take in air.

I knew my Sir well enough to tell when he was getting close, but he was making one last, final attempt at pacing himself.

“If you agree to my terms…” he said, panting, with the last of his self-control, “swallow.”

I closed my eyes to give him the most devoted porn-star blowjob face that I could, sealing my lips even tighter around his cock.

And when he exploded into my mouth, coating my throat with his cum to mark me as his property, signing our new contract like this, I gulped it all down, swirling with my tongue to make sure I caught it all.

And surrendered to the rules that would define the rest of my life.

What if the whole thing with Irene is the excuse Burns uses to trigger Cathy’s last and final demotion at the end of the next chapter? This is so unfair it’s laughable, she was told with Nick that she shouldn’t resist, here she did exactly that, and yet she is being punished anyway; and even more absurdly, Burns isn’t putting a stop to her liaison with either Nick or Irene, so the whole thing is so clearly an evil pretext and she has literally no way of “winning” this game, because the rules keep changing

good idea!, you could combine it with “parent complaints” about her teaching and all kind of other “general problems”. yeah she basically needs to be rolled right back to when women weren’t legally adults. I mean, it’s not like they would necessarily need to know, right? She just has to give Burns full control of her bank account, the coercion is in the fact she literally cannot refuse him.

Moreover, all the people she interacts with behave as if that’s completely natural, it’s a bit like when someone joins a cult, they’re legally still a part of society but they are systematically removed of all connections, until they can be completely assimilated.

***

Cindy

I entered the club on Nick’s arm. But it felt more like I was being led in by a leash.

The first thing that struck me about the place was how utterly ordinary my presence was.

I was dressed like… well, like the sexed-up parody of a waitress, in glossy black nylons and high heels, with a frilly skirt calling attention to my thighs, and a blouse purposefully tightened to emphasise my tits. I felt like a clown on stilts, and a neon light for male sexual interest.

But when I entered the club on Nicks’ arm, nobody turned to look at me.

I soon realized why, and it made me shiver.

The only people sitting in this place were men. Reclined in leather chairs and on sofas, puffing on fat cigars, downing shots of expensive liquor, and conversing with one another over the most varied topics.

The place was full of women, but none of them seemed to have right to use the armchairs.

They were all dressed like me. Some carried trays with drinks, others knelt humbly by the sofa, massaging the feet of their male overlords, and others still were on their knees for a different reason. As we passed a secluded alcove protected by wooden panels, I was all too aware of a raven-haired head bobbing up and down, sucking demurely on some occupant who sat behind the panels.

The club’s furniture was exquisitely refined. Dark mahogany, quality leather, fancy libraries with leather-bound texts, suffused lighting to give an atmosphere of intimacy. It smelled of man-sweat, leather, alcohol, cigar smoke…

And sex.

Us women, we were part of the furniture. Waitresses and serving girls, deft fingers and waiting mouths.

By the way Nick held his head high as he strolled in, I figured it must be his first entrance with a dolled-up female prey he can show off. But few people noticed us. The adults in the room have clearly seen all this before, and maybe more, so much more…

I was so common here that I basically disappeared. Just another whore, here to serve her betters.

The knowledge that these places existed, right under the nose of the law and public opinion and Me Too, was already terrifying. But the worst part? That I, a lesbian, was to spend an entire afternoon in this place, and would obey men’s orders without question.

That finally broke something within me.

It was the moment when I stopped thinking of myself as Cindy first, and started to think of myself as woman in the most generic terms instead. A member of a lesser gender, a piece of human livestock for men to play with as they see fit. What importance did my sexual orientation have, when I was in the power of the patriarchy? They got to decide how my body was used. Not me.

And these weren’t regular men, either.

Most people in attendance were fifty or older, and they reminded me of Burns. Stocky or fat, balding, but with the aura of wealth that always surrounds the brazen rich and powerful. A few of the others were just like Nick, 20-year-old bullies and jocks who strutted about with the self-confidence of a young lion, who knows the pride will be his to rule some day.

I could literally smell the winner mentality from here, and wouldn’t need to take a guess as to who these men voted for, or what they thought about gender equality.

The fellow women were all young adults like me, women with dreams of a career that were now being squashed in the iron fist of the patriarchy. Would we even be allowed to vote at all?

If Nick forbade me to, would I obey?

He snapped his fingers, breaking me out of my reverie.

“I’m here to discuss business,” Nick said. “Grab a tray and make yourself useful.”

“Yes Sir,” I said, blushing, and headed for the bar.

No words or directions were spoken. None were needed. I was simply given a tray. I began to carry the drinks around, not in any particular direction, just hovering around the tables to allow men to grab any drinks they wished.

I felt even more demeaned than if I had to be a real waitress. Waitressing is hard, it requires real skills, organization, coordination. But what I was doing… a roomba could have done it with equal efficiency. I took no orders, coordinated with no-one, I simply and wordlessly grabbed the tray and walked in circles.

The intellectual and psychological devastation was pressing me into a thin, thin fabric that barely resembled the person I used to be.

Men had crushed me. I would no longer be free. Lesbian or no, I would always be theirs. Nothing could ever undo the fact that I was acting as a slavish waitress to a roomful of the sort of people I used to despise the most on planet Earth.

When at last I got to Nick’s table, the tray was taken off my hands by another serving girl. All of a sudden, I was extremely conscious of the hungry stares looking at me from around the table. The men had stopped their game of cards, whatever it was – they were all old save for Nick, and the one who seemed to command attention at the table put down his cigar, ogling every inch of my body.

“So this is the fine little doe you brought to the club today,” the man said, his voice rough from years of smoking. “How about we give her a test ride?”

“You won’t be disappointed,” Nick said, not even looking in my direction as he casually tossed my consent away like a bone being thrown to the dogs. “She’s technically a dyke, but I’ve been teaching her, and you won’t find someone who sucks a better cock.”

That sent the table into an uproar of hysterical laughter. The man who’d first spoken slammed his meaty hand on the table, wiping tears from his eyes.

“You made a lesbian into your prim and proper bedwarmer? Well done, lad. You’ll have to tell me the whole story one day.”

“To be sure,” Nick said, nodding. “But the truth is she’d do anything to not be considered an insufferable bitch.”

There.

Those were the magic words.

As if by outside intervention, I found myself descending to my knees. Inside me, my mind was screaming at me, telling me to stop, to get out. I’d accepted Burns’ oversight over my life, even though he was a man. I’d even accepted being turned into Nick’s girlfriend just to have a solid alibi for life.

But now here I was, a lesbian in a room fully devoted to female objectification and male pleasure, sinking submissively to my knees as if on autopilot, and crawling under the big mahogany table like I’m a piece of furniture or a lapdog or some kind of weird fuckpet whose place is out of sight, and…

And before I knew it, cocks were coming at me in all directions, all stiff, prodding, rubbing against my skin.

They were all different sizes and shapes, and Nick’s stood out as the only one clearly belonging to a man my own age, but they were all equally gross, slimy, musky… I shivered, goosebumps racing across my skin as I tried to countermand the switch of absolute obedience that had overridden my brain.

I wasa lesbian, in a club that might as well be named misogyny central, kneeling under a table, and surrounded by cocks.

This situation was so absurd that I would have laughed, were it not for the tragedy.

My defeated lesbian lips parted submissively around a massive cock as it forcefully entered my mouth. I took two more in my hands, knowing what was expected of me, and let the others rub against my cheek, my ears, my hair, my vulnerable neck.

I began to stroke and suck, making myself into a masturbatory aid for a tableful of men that were marking my skin with their scent, claiming me as their property.

The man I was sucking off grew restless with my gentle ministrations. He started pistoning into my mouth, inching the tip of his dick further down my throat, with no regard to what I was used for. When I coughed and fought down my gag reflex, he seemed to enjoy it.

He battered my mouth with his cock as I knelt there, diminished and stripped of independent personhood, no longer a free woman, but a female sex slave in a men’s world. He was prying me open, and every other cock under this table was asserting its superiority over my female status.

I was under sensory assault on all sides, with dicks literally flying at me in every direction, slapping me, rubbing against me, leaving trails of precum everywhere. It was too much. I was crumbling. I would surrender. I would give up my lesbianism in their honor, do everything they wanted, let them remodel me however they saw fit.

My squelching throat sounded more and more like a surrogate pussy for the men to use at their leisure.

“That’s it,” the old man said above me. I blushed. Instinctively, I went for the cock of the man I identified as an alpha at this table. “That’s the one proper use for dykes if you ask me.”

“She’s good, isn’t she?” Nick asked.

“Very,” the man responded. “You’re training her well.”

“Perhaps we should show her the basement,” another man said at the table.

“Haha, you must really like this one then!” Another interjected.

“Or really dislike her.”

That sent shivers of cold dread down my spine. If this was the public face of the club, what would be awaiting me in the basement?

“Are you sure she’s ready?” Nick asked. “I haven’t seen that side of the club often, but…”

“Trust me,” the boss said. “It’s as wild as the stories would have you believe… but there’s no better, or faster way to break in a filly like this one.”

“Alright sir,” Nick said. “The basement it is.”

And with that, with my future so casually decided, the first ropes of cock started landing atop my exposed skin, while the huge dick in my throat twitched and then released, and released, and released.

I took load after load like the cum dumpster I’d now become, and swallowed all I could.

And judging from the words of my new male conquerors, later this evening there would be many more to come…

Bonus Chapter: The Club

Cindy

I exist to serve my predators.

It is an exquisitely human indignity, isn’t it? Being subdued, conquered, and claimed is not enough. Following your defeat, you spend the rest of your days catering to the whims of your very oppressors. Adoring them, kissing their masculine hands with a most feminine kind of contrition.

Biting your lower lip in arousal, as your former lesbianism is inexorably snuffed out in the tight grip of manly authority, its desperate whimpers growing feebler and feebler with every passing day.

Once, long ago, I first entered the Club on Nick’s arm. I remember feeling more like I was being led in by a leash.

Back then, I didn’t know how apt the comparison was.

Once, long ago, Nick’s friends, Jason and Trenton, also entered the club for the first time, and I remember that like it was yesterday.

“Maaaan,” Jason had said at the time, his mouth agape and eyes wide with shock and excitement, “this place is something else!”

He wasn’t talking to me, of course. Why would he? In here, us women, we’re as much part of the furniture as the leather chairs, the sofas, the mahogany everywhere, the fancy libraries with leather-bound tomes. Symbolism is important. We ascribe meaning to these things for a reason.

The Club is full of pretty things. Worldly possessions that are meant to be looked at… flicked through… used and perused at leisure by those who own them. By the powerful men who own them. They’re certainly not meant to talk back, or even listen too much attentively. So back then, during their first visit, I kept my gaze demurely lowered, as Jason and Trentor conferred with my boyfriend.

With my true master.

“I knew you’d enjoy it, pal,” Nick said, clapping him on the back. “And you ain’t seen anything yet.”

“What do you mean?”

The question came from his other friend, Trenton. Where Jason shares Nick’s leering jock confidence, Trenton is… different. He’s of the same breed as them, of course, a fit white boy in shorts, a buzzcut, and a trust fund to his name by his wealthy parents… but he’s nowhere near as noisy and enthusiastic as they are.

His eyes are narrow and distant, his voice low and inquisitive. He says little… but when he speaks, you can sense the deliberateness behind it.

“Wait until you see the lower floor,” Nick told them conspirationally. At that, Jason’s jaw dropped even further, while Trenton’s eyes glimmered at the implied promise.

They gaped and ogled, as women move around, serving and catering and sighing and bending to the will of their rightful tamers. They – we – all seen, and not heard. The only sounds we’re allowed are yes Sir, of course Sir, and naturally, the little mewls and moans and gasps and whimpers expected of useful and docile female animals…

Seen and not heard. But that’s not quite accurate to what it actually feels like, to be here. We are seen and yet invisible. There is no individuality, no reason to pay special attention to any one of us. Our sexual availability is… mundane. Truthfully, the frequent patrons of the club barely even need to ogle.

Their peripheral vision is completely filled with compliant female flesh. A snap of their fingers will quickly bring a pair of eager lips sealing around their cocks. What need do they have for ogling, seeing, noticing?

You don’t pay much visual attention to your toaster, when you make breakfast in the morning. Why would you pay any to silly, silly girls?

That’s the thing that crushes me the most. Girls like me, in a place like this…

We give up our careers, we relinquish our sexual orientations and control over our bodies, even our right to vote. We were never meant to have it in the first place, after all. Instead, we devote ourselves to the tasks best suited to our feminine temperament, ordained by the natural order.

We serve drinks. Massage feet. Kneel and crawl under tables and desks, our lips parting, our heads descending on the cocks we’re tasked to revere and suck…

We’ve been annihilated here. This is it. The end of our female autonomy. We have given our everything.

And yet, even that is not enough to get us noticed. To the men, it’s all expected, a matter of course. Yes, naturally we’d give up everything for them, and so what? That’s the way things are meant to be. We certainly aren’t getting praised over it.

To Nick’s friends, of course, all of this was the opposite of mundane back then. They probably couldn’t believe a place like this can actually exist, in the times of social justice and #MeToo. They couldn’t believe that I, Cindy, the proud lesbian from Nick’s class, was here as a kitten, an obedient warm sleeve for male pleasure and authority.

A member of a lesser gender, a piece of human livestock for men to play with as they see fit.

For all that, however, they still hopped around with the joyful expression of a kid in a candy store. This place is a crucible of identity death and utter vanquishment, for us. But for them… it’s just fun.

That only makes sense, I suppose. Predation, after all, is as thrilling to the predator, as it’s terrifying to the prey…

“Say, Nick. Wasn’t this bitch a lesbian?”

The words snap me back to the present, and to my reality. Yes, Jason and Trenton were wide-eyed back then… but I’m the one who’s wide-eyed now. And not because of surprise…

I squeal and whine as Nick’s hands squeeze my hips, making me bounce possessively up and down against his cock. I look up, and I see Trenton’s eyes, blue like chipped ice. Cold, so cold. As uncaring as they are amused.

Going away inside your own mind can be a useful skill. No, it can be essential to your survival. In the club, I’m dragged from one dungeon to another on a daily basis. I’m tickled and whipped, caned and chained, blindfolded and made to experience searing heat and biting cold. I’ve been filmed against my consent, more times than I can count, and degraded in every way possible.

If you can dull your own senses, then this rightful life of servitude can be a little… easier to bear.

But, as I snap back to the present, the sensations return. Nick’s cock, so familiar by now, lazily having its way with my cunt, and Trenton’s dick, shoved deep inside my mouth, the taste pungent against my obedient tongue.

Trenton grips the back of my head, pushing his cock further down my throat without much preamble. I gag around it, my eyes blurring with tears, gurgling and choking. I wonder if there’s a bulge forming in my elegant throat, and if it’d even be visible under my collar…

I’m a good lesbian, and so I hollow my cheeks to increase suction, every swirl of my tongue a mute admission of men’s mastery over me. Most dudes would luxuriate in such a treatment, but not this guy, oh no. Every time I look up at him with docile, pleading eyes, he looks at me like I’m just a… thing.

Like the enjoyment for him isn’t so much in the physical act, but in the mental idea of fucking a lesbian straight like this.

Well, if that’s what sir likes, that’s what he’ll have.

I squeal around his cock, while Nick pumps carelessly behind me. In the corner, Jason is openly stroking himself, but I don’t get a good look. Trenton adjusts his grip on my skull, manipulating my head until the angle is just perfect.

And then…

He just starts fucking the entrance to my throat, without ceremony, impaling me so completely over his cock that it disappears completely inside me.

“Is my friend right? You were a preachy lesbian feminist?” he asks casually.

“Right the first time, buddy,” Nick says, panting. “Was.”

God, why does that thought go straight to my clit? I mewl in defeat and compliance around Trenton’s cock. He looks up to Nick, then back down to me. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to fuck the dykeness and feminism out of your head, won’t we? Do you feel like a feminist when you’re cum drunk?”

I shake my head around his cock, in as much as his strong grip even allows me to. That makes Jason guffaw in hilarity, but to Trenton, this is anything but funny.

As our eyes meet once again, there is a passing moment of recognition and understanding between us. He isn’t just having fun. He’s doing something… more.

His grip tightens once more, locking my head in place. God, he’s strong. No wonder men do what they will with us, how could we ever stop them? They could physically subdue us any time.

“Hey Nick!” Jason says. “When you’re head of this place, you should rename it. Feminist rehab!”

I squeal around Trenton’s dick, wishing that Nick would rub my clit rather than just use me as his cocksleeve… but I know lesbian cocksuckers aren’t allowed to demand release. My place is to be used.

“Rehab sounds good,” Trenton says, his voice cold, calculating. “This is where feminist dykes get their education. Even your limited amount of brain cells are enough to let you understand just how hopelessly misplaced your ambitions of equality were.”

“She’s just gotta think… with her cunt,” Nick interjects. He’s been at it a while. His physical form allows him to just keep going, and going, and going… prolonging his unilateral usage of me. I just lie here on the bench, and take it like a bitch.

That’s what I am. A bitch, a cornered animal. No longer a selfish little lesbian, but a more useful and docile female animal…

“Hey, guys, I’m tired of just standing here playing with my dick,” Jason says at last, with a hint of petulance in his voice. “Why don’t we just airtight her?”

The whooping and cheering that follows the proposal is so loud that even if I were in a position to give or deny consent, I wouldn’t be heard. And there it is again… seen and not heard, right? Fucked and not heard. Enslaved and not heard…

Even with my holes used and abused on a daily basis, triple penetration isn’t something I just… get used to. Nick withdraws from me with a plop, making way for Jason to slide under the bench and claim my cunt himself.

And then, Nick lines up his cock with the entrance to my ass.

I squeal and whimper around Trenton’s cock, as Nick’s own erection slides into my crack. He holds my hair like a set of makeshift reins, adjusting himself behind me, pushing forward. I whimper, my ring stretching to take him. To… accommodate him.

“Impressive,” Trenton says from above me, so far above me, in a gruff masculine

voice that reminds me I’m still demurely polishing his cock.

I gasp as three cocks plunge deeper into me.

Six hands hold my body, gripping it, immobilising it. Nick bottoms out inside me and begins to ride me, back and forth, back and forth, and Jason underneath me tries to keep up the rhythm, using my lesbian pussy as his own personal fleshlight.

My eyes roll back into my skull as they plug me. It’s not my first time, but somehow, it never feels to lose its… annihilating quality. Nothing quite focuses a lesbian’s mind like being plugged in all three holes by men.

I want to hate this, truly, but I can’t. Each and every second of this totalising humiliation tells me that this is what millions of years of evolution have sculpted my body for. That’s why my limited feminine nervous system is misfiring. That’s why I go brainless, not even pretending to resist their firm grip on my body.

I let them push me back and forth, up and down, like I’m just a toy, a wet rag for their amusement. When my eyes travel up to meet Trenton’s, I find him serenely contemplating me. I must be such a sight, red from the exertion, tearing up, gagging on his cock.

“She was little miss gender studies once,” Nick says. “Then, Burns and I broke her like a horse. Soon as she’s no longer sufficiently fuckable for the Club, I’m gonna put a baby in her.”

“Fuck,” Jason grunts beneath me. “That’s hot.”

“Would you like that?” Trenton asks me, almost gently. “To be a lesbian broodmare for the patriarchy?”

I squeal, not even sure if in despair, or in arousal, but Trenton keeps pursuing me. “Tell me true, Cindy, and maybe I’ll let you cum. Is that what you want? To cum to misogyny?”

I don’t want it. But I need it, so desperately need it, God, what an image. Reined in like a wild animal… a filly meant for breeding…

My answer must be etched on my face, because Trenton casually pulls out of me with a soft wet sound, lifting my chin to keep eye contact with me. “Cindy, answer truthfully if you want to cum,” he says, matter-of-factly. “There is not even a single shred of basic human dignity left in that simple head of yours. Is there?”

I look down, unable to hold his gaze, fixating on the cock thrusting in front of me. I’ll be swallowing Trenton’s cum soon, I know. That’s what my lips and throat were made for. I suddenly crave to engulf it in my warm seal of oral worship once again.

So much for my orientation.

That’s when I know the answer, the truth, deep within my heart. Just how stupid and dumb I am, a cum-for-brains little girl that just needs to shut up and suck, while the men do the thinking for me. That’s when I know exactly what to say.

“No, Sir,” I say, briefly meeting his gaze before looking down again. “There isn’t. Because women aren’t people…”

And then, as my lips toy with the tip of his dick, seconds before wrapping around it once more in worship, I breathe the last words of truth straight onto his cock.

“… and we exist to serve our predators.”

Epilogue: A Successful Mindbreak

John

John Burns was not overly concerned with instant gratification.

After all, he was a patient man. He knew that the best position to enjoy in life was on the strategic offensive but tactical defensive: letting trends do the work for you, growing your strength with every passing day.

That was why he still endured, when so many other bigwigs of his generation had fallen to a scandal or another. That was why his rule over the school still went unchallenged after all this time, and why he could keep a finger in many pies, and walk alongside the rich and wealthy.

For all of this, though, Burns had to indulge himself every now and again. Even his most patient side couldn’t deny one simple truth: he’d won.

For confirmation, he only needed to look at the floor.

Cathy was visibly unable to meet his gaze, kneeling on all fours as close to the ground as she could, like a tiny little mouse trying to make itself invisible.

Smiling to himself, John remembered the first time she’d marched into this office, all prim and proper with her holier than thou attitude. She thought he was a disease, and that she was going to succeed where all others had failed.

And look at her now. He’d inflicted such a crushing blow upon her, a defeat not just against her, but her entire gender, that she’d gone from standing to crawling. From teaching to cleaning the office, by hand and on all fours. From speaking, to whimpering.

From lecturing, to polishing cock with her lips.

He knew that what little remained of her personhood was shrivelling even now under each new humiliation. There was almost nothing left to disassemble. She was writhing under his thumb, but purely by reflex by now. She’d been tamed.

And it made his dick so, so hard.

“You missed a spot,” he said, puffing on his cigar. “I want this office spick and span. You don’t want to get fired, do you?”

The pained, throaty whimper of sheer animalistic desperation that came out of Cathy was music to his ears.

She would never teach again, would never be able to see herself as the equal of any man, would never get out from under the thumb of Irene and Nick and even Cindy. Cathy Cooper was done, broken. Even her bank account was his own now. The sum inside was considerably smaller than his own wealth, but still nothing to sneeze at – the Cooper family had done okay for itself.

But no longer. As he’d had Cathy herself repeat multiple times before he finally accepted her credit card, women couldn’t be trusted to manage their own money.

Eventually, Burns cleared his throat.

“I marvel at your incompetence as a maid. Is there anything you’re good for?”

Cathy began to visibly shake, and that made John rub the stone through his pocket. Best investment of his life, no doubt about it.

“Yes Sir, there is,” Cathy whispered, knowing what was expected of her. “S-s-servicing cock.”

“In that case,” Burns said, unzipping his pants, “drop that pathetic excuse of a cleaning job you’re trying to do, and make yourself useful for once.”

There was no hesitation in the way Cathy dropped what she was doing, and – remaining on all fours – began to crawl towards his desk. Burns studied her closely, and not for the usual stuff, although that was glorious too.

Yes, her shapely thighs filled the nylons of the maid uniform in a way that looked personally sculpted by god. The frilly skirt, the form-fitting blouse, the way her curves looked open and available as she crawled forward, were all his god-given duty to enjoy after his conquest.

But the detail he was looking for was that rarest of prizes. It was in Cathy’s eyes.

They were glassy. Vacant. Devoid of any emotion.

This had been a girl with a dream, once. She’d devoted most of her young life to studying, networking, improving herself, pursuing that dream with relentless determination.

And he’d snatched that away from her, before snuffing out her intelligence, her self-respect, her autonomy, her sense of belonging to her own gender. For no better reason than because he felt like it.

“You know what time it is right now?” Burns asked, as Cathy’s obedient, conquered lips adhered to the head of his cock, and she released a sigh of submissive pleasure.

His strong, knotty fingers clutched at her hair – not to regulate her pace, but just to remind her she was owned. There was no need to direct her blowjobs anymore. In a way, they really were the only thing she could do well by now, all thanks to his rigorous training.

“It’s nine AM,” he continued, as she was clearly unable to talk, with her tongue demurely massaging the underside of his hardening cock. “That’s when your class used to begin. Isn’t it?”

Cathy didn’t even bother trying to respond. Mindful of her duty, she continued her loving ministrations to his dick. 

It was glorious. The best feeling in the world. He’d taken her money, her career, her future, her body, and of course, her very mind. There was nothing left.

Cathy Cooper was now a loyal slave to the patriarchy, and would be for the rest of her life.

“I’ll be swinging by tonight,” he said, his breath quickening as Cathy’s by-now world-star cocksucking skills began to truly stimulate him. “Cook something nice for me. And tell Cindy she’s on duty tonight. I’m in the mood to celebrate,” he said, and this time, he did force Cathy’s mouth deeper onto his dick, enjoying the squealing sounds as his erection breached the entrance to her throat.

And why the hell not? Skilled at sucking or not, she was just a woman, after all.

***

Cindy

“Stay still, slut,” I said, and my elder sister demurred beneath me, doing her best to obey.

I was sitting, with my feet raised up and firmly planted on Cathy’s face. I was carefully applying polish to my toenails, and there was little in the world that sent a shiver of pleasure through me like turning Cathy’s face into a footstool for something like this.

Yes, I too had fallen down the social ladder, but it was nothing, compared to Cathy’s own vanquishing. So long as I had at least one person beneath me, I could take a small consolation in it. Maybe most importantly, Cathy’s enslavement gave me someone to take out my frustrations on, from the life of servitude I led outside this house.

And I had a lot to take out lately.

It was so fitting, in a way. I had dethroned her here at home. I was prettying myself up for my date with Nick at the club tonight, and she was having to just kneel there, defeated and objectified, mumbling and whimpering under my feet.

God, what a power rush. I really couldn’t blame Burns, or Nick, or Irene for doing what they were doing. Power was such an aphrodisiac. Addictive, even.

I wasn’t as good as them. But I could at least carve out my own little kingdom here, where I could sit back, put my feet up (literally!) and enjoy.

It was a feeling my poor little sister was never going to experience, not once in her whole sorry lifetime. She’d never know what it feels like to stamp your authority over someone, establish that you’re more and they are less. That a relationship is fundamentally unequal, and that’s okay. Desirable, even.

“Our sisterly bond is much better ever since you became the little sister,” I told her in a soft voice, soft enough to let me hear the quiet sob that died in her throat before even making it to her lips. “Don’t you think, pet?”

The last time I laid this sort of trap for her, the bitch stepped right into it and nodded. Nodded! She could have messed up my toenails. I smiled, thinking of how thoroughly I’d disciplined her that day – in a way Burns would approve of, naturally.

But Cathy was too natural a servant to let that happen twice. She responded too well to training and domestic discipline, like a well-behaved dog. So this time she stayed perfectly still, mumbling in agreement beneath me.

Oh well. If I really needed an excuse to punish her, I always had the opportunity to make one up later. But for now, I really needed to get going.

I got up, enjoying the sight of my sister’s face, looking up at me in expectant worship and fear. I’d spent so long doing my nails, I could still make out the outline of my feet where they’d dug into her cheeks and forehead. Amazing!

“You did very well today,” I told her, running a hand through her hair. She leaned into my touch like a purring cat. “That’s a good girl,” I cooed. “Burns is swinging by later. You better get started on his dinner. You know your womanly duties.”

Saying that out loud made me tingle with arousal. I felt like such a little gender traitor, for instructing my sisters in how to properly welcome a man home at the end of a long day. Maybe that was what I was now. A traitor to womankind. A planted, secret agent of the patriarchy.

The thought made me chuckle a little… but it also made me lick my lips. God, I was so far gone. I’d never get old Cindy back, would I?

And all because I wanted to be loved… and because men were simply too good at sensing a weakness like that, and exploiting it. It wasn’t their fault. A cat kills a mouse not out of hatred, but because it’s in its nature. Taming women was just what men did.

And submitting in hope for mercy was just what women did in return.

I gave Cathy a light slap on the rear, to which she replied with an exaggerated yelp, and I smiled to myself as she made her way into the kitchen – the one place in the universe where she truly belonged. Where most defeated women belonged.

As for me, though, I had a different sort of duty tonight.

I finished applying my makeup and lipstick when a key turned into the front door’s lock. Conscious of my own training, I immediately dropped what I was doing and rushed to kneel by the entrance, with Cathy at my side.

Above us loomed Burns. It was weird, how used I’d become to looking up at him. Here was a man who represented everything that made men, well, men. Rock-solid authority and certainty. He always had a plan, always knew what to do, what was best for him as well as silly girls like me.

Lesbian or not, I was grateful for his dominion over me. I needed his supervision to do well in life.

We threw ourselves into the greeting ritual, my lips pressing worshipfully against his strong, callused, meaty hands, a gesture of utmost respect and submission. I kissed each of his fingertips, as if willing them to be gentle with me. I kissed the open palm of his hand, as if begging him not to slap me, like I knew I deserved.

And even though my eyes were closed, I could hear the faint wet sounds of Cathy’s tongue humbly lapping at his office shoes, down below. That made me smile. It was such a perfect representation of the hierarchy of the household.

Eventually, Cathy and I met in the middle, our lips brushing against one another’s as we demurely kissed his dick through his pants.

It was already hard. I knew Cathy had a long night ahead of her, and in a way, so did I.

“That’s nice,” Burns said, petting my head like with a favorite dog. He always made a point of sidelining Cathy. It never failed to elicit hurt and fear in her eyes. I loved him for subjecting her to this manipulation.

“You’re doing a really good job supervising the slave,” Burns continued. “But you really gotta go now, Nick needs you.”

“Yes Sir,” I said with one final handkiss. I rose to my feet – at least he was taller than me, so I could still feel overshadowed, as was right and proper – and began to gather my things and head out.

As I did so, they moved to the kitchen. The door was open, and every time I passed by the kitchen, I saw Cathy – busy cooking away for her new owner – and Burns, standing behind her, pressing himself against her, letting his hands roam all over her body, pinching her nipples…

A cat, toying with a trapped mouse.

I left just as Burns was about to eat. I knew Cathy would be kneeling under the table. She would only be permitted to feed once he was done. The mere idea of it – this level of discipline, of female domestication – made my pussy quiver.

It was our place in the world.

With a mix of awe and fear for men and the patriarchy, and a newfound appreciation of my position in life, I closed the door behind me.

I did so to the fading sounds of my vanquished sister, gagging and sucking on Burns’ cock.

***

Cathy

It occurred to me, in a weird moment of realization, that I haven’t had sex on a bed in ages.

I’ve been fucked on pretty much every horizontal and vertical surface Crawford High has to offer. Here in the house, I’ve spent the majority of my sexy time on the floor. Of course, Cindy did wake me up in the mornings by sitting on my face, but that hardly counted at this point.

Mr Burns himself, though… he’d never shared a bed with me. Which is why, when his big strong hands sent me tumbling onto the mattress, my heart fluttered.

It was silly, I knew, to think of love, intimacy and tenderness with a man so dominant. He had no time for the whimsical, fleeting hopes of silly girls like me. He was here to take what was his.

To take me.

My traitorous thoughts immediately went up another gear, as Burns’ weight landed atop me, crushing me face-first into the mattress.

In the vivid imagination of my mind’s eye, even that was a gesture of pure symbolism. The way his knotty fingers clutched the back of my skull, pushing me into the mattress like I was defeated prey, being made to sink into the mud…

I quivered in horny anticipation as his cock teased my thighs. I’d diligently blown him for the duration of his meal and a movie besides, and my oversexed brain had been bombarded all night.

His hands had inspected me, toyed with me, manhandled me. Reminded me why femininity is by nature submissive.

After hours of stimulation, I could barely take this anymore. I just wanted my conqueror to finally claim me, to put it out in the open, to end this endless downward journey and finally hit rock bottom.

I wanted him to openly, unequivocally, unabashedly fuck me. Put me in my place. Finally let every hidden crevice of my subconscious admit and accept the fact that I was a kept woman, as his slave.

The mattress groaned in complaint as Burns steadied on his knees behind me, his hand flipping my clutched hair like a makeshift rein, regulating my position. Making me climb to all fours, my rear presented to him.

I was perfectly responsive to his every direction, my body fully cognizant of who was his real owner. He tugged hard on my hair, forcing my head up. A small groan of pain barely escaped my lips as he pulled harder, slapping his cock against my buttocks for good measure.

I could barely see his form at the periphery of my vision, if I craned my neck just enough – which only made me arch my back even more, responding to his masterful pull. I couldn’t take the teasing any longer, but I couldn’t dare say a word. Not without his prompting.

Eventually, at last, Burns plunged forward, entering me. It was a familiar sensation, and I was more than ready for him, yet the choked gasp that left my throat was still like something out of a cheap porno.

He’d been conditioning me. I sounded and behaved less and less like a real woman, and more like a sexpet out of some fantasy.

I closed my eyes as one meaty hand slapped my rear, while the other pulled harder on my hair.

“Remember how high and mighty you were on the first day?” Burns said, pulling me backward onto his shaft, eliciting a feminine gasp of submission from me.

“You thought you were going to make a difference,” he said, his smoke-laden breath coming harder with every new thrust. “And look at you now.”

I whimpered in sheer, utter humiliation. I couldn’t possibly deny the extent or totality of his victory over me. I’d been humbled and reduced, fucked and tamed, demoted and demoted again.

The strong, bright, independent career woman I fancied myself to be was dead. In her place was this pathetic excuse of a cocksocket.

Burns had muzzled my silly feminist protests, domesticated me, and plumbed all of my depths… literally, and metaphorically. And nothing had ever made me feel more womanly than being his unassuming little bitch.

His free hand explored every inch of my body, while his other hand never once relented in its savage grip on my hair. I was bouncing on his cock like I was little more than a toy. His fingers touched all they could, twisting, prodding, stroking.

“Look at this body,” he said, panting faster. “You were personally sculpted by God to please men. So inviting, so submissive, so voluptous, so… fertile…”

I writhed in ecstasy and terror, arching my back even further, doing my best to match Burns’ every thrust inside my defeated womanhood, even as his words sent a trickle of fear down my spine.

Surely, he couldn’t mean… Surely…

“Sir,” I whispered, “I…”

“Shut up,” Burns said, slapping my rear for good measure, making me yelp in pain. My cheeks reddened at the way his reprimand immediately silenced me.

I really was a gender traitor. All it took was one spank and one word and I was back to my feminine silence, acting as a living fleshlight for him to piston in and out of.

“I’ve… taken everything from you already,” Burns said, his breath quickening, his pace increasing. “Your rights, your job, your money, your mind…”

It was all true, of course. So true. And yet, hearing it somehow made me feel even emptier. Even less of a person. Like the old Cathy truly had died, to be replaced by this hornier, dumber, weaker… truer version of myself.

“My victory over you is complete,” Burns said, wrapping my hair around his hand, thus shortening my leash even further. “There’s only one thing left to take…”

The dull horror I felt at his words was a distant thing. It was dulled by so many layers of pleasure, training, and obedience – but it was there.

I knew that represented the final step in the restoration of proper gender roles…

Proper. My own mind kept betraying me at every turn. Of course it was proper that a teacher get down to her knees and suck her boss’s cock. Of course it was proper that she accept a reduction in status, confined back to the kitchen.

And of course, the proper expression did say, barefoot and pregnant…

“No protest, just empty eyes, and lots of slutty pleasure,” Burns whispered in my ears. “That’s my good, glassy, submissive broodmare. Stay there and take it. Accept the patriarchy’s yoke. This is man’s boot, pressing down on woman’s neck. Like it always has. Like it always will.”

At his words, my pussy spasmed and clenched harder around his cock. Yes. My entire gender lost every war it ever started. We always ended up back where we belonged, as chattel and broodmares. I was sure my generation would lose this war, too.

I was merely one of the first to fall. One of the first to renounce my feminism, and accept the just punishment of the old order.

And in that moment, my very last defenses crumbled, and I gave in to the joy and bliss of true acceptance.

“Please, my Lord and Master,” I whispered at last, my voice quivering as I hovered over the edge of a veritable abyss of debasement and pleasure. “Please, knock me up… Make me yours…”

There was no reply, not an intelligible one anyway. Burns let go of my hair, the palm of his hand smacking against the back of my head, nailing my slutty face into the mattress.

He leaned forward, his entire weight crushing my face, cutting off my breath supply as I thrashed and wiggled desperately underneath him.

My desperate squeals were what finally took him over the edge. As his cock began to convulse inside me, my pussy began to spasm in turn, and his grunts intermingled with my screams at our mutual climax.

It was a shockwave that coursed through every fiber of my being, leaving nothing standing in its wake – nothing but putty for Master’s hands to reshape as he saw fit.

And in that moment of utter brain crash and convulsing pleasure, as Burns firmly planted his seed into my womb, I finally, without reservations, accepted my fate, and embraced the beginning of my new life.

***

Cindy

“Come again?” I asked, blinking slowly, breathing rapidly.

My heart was hammering against my chest. The deafening music of the club made it difficult to hear well – but also to just stay calm. I couldn’t stop myself from shaking.

“I said,” Nick repeated, leaning into me and performing a sweeping gesture with his arm, “welcome to your new workplace.”

“N-n-no,” I whispered, my lip trembling, as I contemplated the basement before me.

I’d been here before, of course. Serving upstairs was demeaning, but it was nothing, compared to what went on down here.

I’d been dragged from one dungeon to another, bound, blindfolded, caned and whipped, subjected to heat and cold, tickled and filmed, verbally and physically degraded.

Most of all, I’d been fucked. Fucked by men and women (but mostly men) I never even got to see, like I was just a thing, a part of the furniture, dungeon equipment to be used and discarded.

I could tolerate it. Nick wanted me to star in the basement for the club, so I did it. But… work here, every day? For real?

I was a loyal servant of the patriarchy now. I knew men existed to rule, and women to serve. But this… this felt just… too terrifyingly, inescapably real. It set off my flight instinct. A part of me wanted to run.

The rest merely expected to submit.

I felt his hand clasp my neck possessively, his lips at my ear, and I shivered. A small, instinctual, animalistic part of my brain remembered what kind of a ruthless misogynist Nick actually was. Who it was, of all people, who had come to wield such power over me.

His hand of my neck triggered all sorts of primal instincts in my subconscious. It was such a male gesture. Assuming, arrogant, disrespectful… and masterful. The kind of manhandling associated with unruly domestic animals.

And women who misbehave.

I was scared.

“Now that you’re my girl,” Nick whispered, “you don’t really need a degree anymore. It’s just a piece of paper. I’ve got a nice job lined up from my dad anyway, more than enough to provide for us.”

“No…” I whispered meekly. He continued as if I hadn’t even spoken.

“You’ll get to work here while you’re young and beautiful. Just for a few years, I swear. After that, you can stay home like a nice, trad little girlfriend. Barefoot and pregnant.”

I visibly flinched at the last two words, trying to squirm away from his grasp – which he immediately put a stop to, his fingers clasping tighter against the back of my neck.

Reminding me that I was owned.

“You should be thanking me, really,” he said, his voice dropping so low I could barely follow. “I’m going to make so many people love you. And here in the basement, you’ll get the chance to lez it out in public with a perfect aliby. I’ve thought of everything, see?”

Of course he had. He was so much smarter than me – a concept that I would have found hilarious bordering on the offensive, before I realized what my proper place was as a woman.

He was a man, my boyfriend, and my master. Of course he knew best.

“Isn’t that right, dyke?”

“Y-y-yes, Sir,” I said in a mousy voice, my eyes downcast. “T-thank you for thinking about what’s best for me.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, brushing my chin in a smug fashion, priding himself in his toy.

And with that, my future was settled. No more higher education for me. No more career, no financial independence, no self-actualization… Ahead of me was only service.

Personal service to Nick… and to the select clientele of the club and its basement.

It was so unfair. I’d done anything Nick asked of me, tossed aside my own sexual orientation, served him in any way, whored myself out at his command, doing my best to be a good, lovable, loyal, obedient little girlfriend.

And this was my prize. Even more abuse. Even more slavery. The iron heel of the patriarchy, twisting ever deeper into my neck?

Nick couldn’t care less about my shock and turmoil. He took me by the waist – his hand travelling downwards towards my butt, where it finally rested possessively – and guided me through the basement.

Most of the dungeon doors on both sides of the hallway were shut, but from the open ones I could glimpse all the tools of the trade – stockades and St Andrew’s crosses, whips and leather masks, collars and chains.

My new workspace. No, worse than that – my new classroom. The one education Nick considered worthwhile for a woman he owned.

I shivered, and not just from fear. By pure training alone, I was beginning to respond to the catastrophic, irreversible reduction in my social and personal status.

It was hot.

Nick continued to speak, oblivious or perhaps simply uncaring about my discomfort.

“I have a specific role for you in mind,” he said, leading me into one of the open dungeons. “There’s this new feature we’re introducing, to appeal to a… broader clientele. We’ve hired an apprentice dominatrix, and she needs a little sexpet to complete the act, you see.”

I just stared at him, slack-jawed. He put a hand on my chin, closing my mouth.

“I know you’re pretty far gone, but it’s no time to blow invisible dicks, doll,” he said, the words making my cheek redden.

“It’s a pretty easy job, you see. You’ll act as the submissive dyke and human footstool for the apprentice dominatrix. I did say I’d get you an alibi to lez it up in public!”

With a bunch of men watching, of course… But I knew my lot in life. I could be grateful for small mercies. So once again, with a mousy voice I’d never used in my life prior to recent events, I did as was expected of a docile lady.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“When the clients get sufficiently riled up, they’ll get to use you, of course,” he added, an evil glint in his eye.

“Of course, Sir,” I said, too cowed to defy him. At that moment, the very last shred of my resistance and independence was snuffed out. I would do as Nick demanded.

I would give up my pretense at an education. I would entertain, and serve, and pose, and suck. In a way, the old Cindy, the Cindy I used to be, died for good the moment I bowed my head in submission.

A new Cindy was born. One that would obey with no hesitation.

“As for the domme herself,” Nick said with a smirk, “I believe you two have a bit of history together…”

I turned to the sound of heels, and at the sight, I immediately dropped to my knees.

Because I now obeyed with no hesitation.

Before me stood Irene, clad in a leather jacket, a pair of faded jeans, and the most beautiful, dominating pair of knee-high leather boots I’d ever seen in my life. She wielded a riding crop, which she theatrically slapped into her open palm.

A remote part of me was completely horrified at the idea that I was quitting my education and my entire shot at an independent future, to literally work under Irene for the pleasure of rich, powerful men.

But another part of me thought this was only so fitting. And Irene had broken me in so thoroughly that I didn’t even require any further instructions.

I crawled forward, conscious of Nick’s gaze burning against my back, and placed a devoted, desperate kiss on the tip of Irene’s boot.

The leather beneath my lips felt wonderful, polished, hard and unyielding. Mine was a desperate kiss, the kind that begs for mercy and promises a bottomless source of worship. She’d taught me well, and I knew my place.

Irene didn’t even crouch to speak to me. She used the riding crop – lightly tapping it against my cheeks, then sweeping it underneath my chin, and pulling upwards.

“We’re going to have some fun, you and I,” Irene said as I obediently followed the movement traced by the riding crop, feeling it press against my skin, until I was looking up at her.

She was breathtaking from down here, her toned legs lovingly complemented by her boots and jeans, the leather jacket looking almost like an imposing uniform on her.

The way her dark locks framed those cruel and clever eyes, the feral grin she flashed at me as she contemplated the full extent of my defeat.

I nodded demurely against the riding crop, which only caused Irene to smile even harder, and to utter her own promise to me.

“Welcome to the rest of your life, slave.”

***

Cathy

This was where it all began, in a way.

Burns’ office. Exactly one year ago, I had stepped into his domain with my head held high, believing I had a career ahead, and the ability to determine my future.

On that very day, Burns had put me off balance for the very first time, with as simple a trick as the throw of a stone. Even now I wasn’t sure why I found that particular event to be so significant… but it represented the beginning of my end.

Now, a year later, I was formally no longer a teacher. Recently pregnant, with no control over my finances or my body, I spent my days cooking, cleaning… and pleasing. My younger sister, herself under the yoke of the patriarchy and deprived even of her education, was my ruthless overseer.

My life had changed in literally every respect. Which was why seeing this place again made me feel like I was gazing into some deep, magical mirror, looking at the past, or perhaps at an alternate world, or maybe even into my own soul.

It was the place where it all began… and where old Cathy met her end.

I found myself thinking of her, very briefly. Old Cathy had such a full life, in a way. Full of ideas, full of opinions. Her shelves were full of books she actually committed to read. Her social media presence was full of memories and takes, usually informed by her feminism.

She was full of ambition, optimism, and pride.

Then, as my gaze moved to the man sitting behind the desk, I remembered why it all came crashing down. Like a poorly steered ship, my old self crashed ruinously against the solid rock that was John Burns, my lord and master.

In my failure, I sank into the depths of the sea in storm, and was reborn. No longer full of anything, except cock. Empty, I was blissfully empty, and perfectly obedient.

That was why I was in this office again, after all. Burns wanted me here. I didn’t know why, but slaves don’t ask why – they just obey.

I didn’t even need his prompting. All of my own volition, like a well-trained girl, I dropped to my knees. Even the floor beneath me felt familiar – I must have knelt in this office hundreds of times, after all.

It was like a condensed version of the past twelve months. I’d step into the office, get my perspective challenged and changed, and fall to my knees. By doing it again now, the memories of all those tiny individual defeats came rushing back to me.

Wordlessly, I re-engaged in my old ritual, and crawled all the way under Sir’s desk.

His hands brushed my hair as I nuzzled against him, kissing his hardening cock, then submissively accepting it into my mouth. God, his hands felt so big next to my face, they covered it in its entirety. I loved the feeling. How easily they could hold and master me.

“Do not make a sound,” Burns said above me. “I’m about to have a guest.”

Old me – even old enslaved me – might have flinched, or wondered, or squirmed. I was too broken for that. I simply accepted it as a fact of life, and stayed in my place, kneeling, humbly milking his cock with my lips.

A woman’s mouth should be used, after all… and certainly not for blabbering about her silly opinions.

I didn’t even stop gently bobbing up and down his shaft as I heard the sound of the door opening behind me, then closing. Heels thumped against the floor – which did pique my curiosity.

“Ah, Miss Lexington!” He said out loud, in a raspy voice that tried to sound amiable without much conviction. “Thanks for coming in. I wanted to personally welcome you to Crawford High as a teacher!”

“Spare me the formalities,” the other person said. It was definitely a woman, but her feminine voice sounded shrill and wrong to my ears. There was no sound of subservience, no low and unassuming tone – just a lot of opinionated bitchiness.

In a way, she sounded a lot like Old Cathy used to, before Burns stuck his cock into her – into my waiting mouth.

“I’ve heard you managed to get my predecessor to quit inside one year,” she continued. “Everyone knew Cathy Cooper for a determined up-and-comer. What did you do to her, Burns?”

My eyes widened at the sheer disrespect, but I did my best to stay focused on the task at hand. Lexington had no way to know the determined woman she was talking about was on her knees under this very desk, applying all her skills to emit no sound while sucking cock.

“Miss Cooper’s life choices have nothing to do with me,” Burns said, puffing on his cigar above me. “Last I’ve heard, she’s simply discovered the joys of being a stay-at-home mother.”

The chair on the far side of the desk creaked, no doubt as Lexington adjusted on it in awkwardness at his words. But I knew my Sir. I knew this was just the beginning of him spinning his web.

“In fact,” he continued, “I called you here precisely so we could start on the right foot. Clear the air. Melissa – may I call you Melissa?”

“No,” came the cold, flat answer.

“I believe we should start over,” Burns said, completely undeterred. “For example, we could talk about what we did during the holidays, as good colleagues do to socialize.”

“What?” Melissa asked. I noted with a slight nod, which went well with my demure oral service, that I’d internally switched to her first name as well. All women in the workplace should go by their first name alone.

Or by proper womanly titles like slut, or pet.

“Look, Mr Burns, this has been really charming, but my first English Lit class is starting in fifteen minutes. I don’t know what you did to Cooper, but I know your reputation. Please – stay away from me. For both our sakes.”

The chair groaned as Melissa evidently rose to leave. My lord and master didn’t lose his composure with her, though, just like he hadn’t with me.

“I was in Mexico during the summer break,” he said. “Cheaper whores, if you know where to look.”

“Are you insane??” Melissa asked, shock dripping from her voice, which allowed me to suck a little harder without being heard, hollowing my cheeks in worship. The story was familiar to me, of course.

Just hearing it again sent tingles down my sex.

“I found a trinket,” Burns continued. “The guy selling it was full of big words about what it could do,” he said, “and I bought it on a whim. Best purchase of my life.”

There was a moment of silence. I couldn’t know what was happening in the room of course – not from my humble place, kneeling between my master’s thighs, worshipping at the altar of cock. But even silences can be significant.

For Melissa, this was a silence of confusion and outrage. For Burns, it was the silence of the predator, about to pounce on his prey. And like always with his victims, he was faster than her.

Quivering in anticipated pleasure, I angled my head and then impaled myself on his cock, doing my best to make it breach the entrance of my throat, to give it a nice massage with my airways. I wanted it deep in there for what I knew was coming.

And then, finally, with my pussy quivering in pleasure, and my throat convulsing in service, I heard it. The snap, the sound that signified the beginning of the end.

The sound of the stone, sent spinning into the air.

THE END