Author’s Note: This story is my homage to a favourite video from Mind Control Theatre: “Extra Credit”. The thing is… I have a fetish for hypnosis, and while MCT is among the best at portraying that, porn is still porn, and I frankly end up skipping 80% of the minutes-long scenes of wet, slurping sounds. So this story is my attempt to take a favourite scenario and reimagine it, my way. Please do check out the video that inspired this story, and Mind Control Theatre—they make great stuff!
1.
Claire glanced up from her laptop at a knock on her dorm room door. A hesitant knock—two soft taps, a pause, then one more. She blinked, frowned, and called, “Yeah?”
The door creaked open. Emma stepped inside.
She looked… unwell. Pale. Worried. Her eyes scanned the tiny room like she was checking the shadows for monsters. Claire wondered if she was going to peek under the bed. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest. She didn’t move further in.
Claire sat up straighter. “Umm, Emma. Hey. What’s going on?”
Emma hesitated. “I… I need to tell you something. But you have to promise not to freak out.”
“That’s encouraging,” Claire said. She took a deep breath and pushed her laptop aside. “Okay… will you come in?”
Emma closed the door and stepped toward the bed like she was approaching a courtroom docket. She perched on the edge, tense and coiled. Claire studied her, concerned.
Emma took a deep breath. “It’s about Professor Alden.”
Claire leaned back slightly. “Uh oh. Creepy Psych Professor Alden? What did he—?”
Emma nodded, then shook her head. She spoke in a rush. “I’ve been going to his office. For tutoring. And it started normal. But then something—I think he’s doing something to me!”
He watched her, a looming presence behind his big desk. She tried to focus on the case study he was helping her review. But his gaze weighed on her.
Alden smiled, his voice warm and calm. “You’re having trouble focusing, Emma,” he said. “I can tell. A lot of my students struggle just like this. Let me help. Will you let me?”
Emma looked up at him from across the desk, curious.
He lifted a silver chain from his desk drawer. A pendant dangled at the end, catching the light.
“Just follow this with your eyes.”
Emma blinked. “What’s that—”
“Just watch.”
The pendant began to sway.
Back in the dorm room, Emma looked down at her hands. She worried the edge of one fingernail with another.
“He said it was, like, a focusing technique. To help me study. I thought it was harmless. But then…”
Claire frowned. “Then what?”
Emma’s voice dropped. “Then I couldn’t move. It was like my mind left my body. I could still think, but my body just—stopped listening.”
The pendant swung in a relentless, practiced rhythm. Her eyes tracked it back and forth, breath slowing. Muscles unwinding.
Alden’s voice, low and smooth: “That’s it. Just let your thoughts fall away.”
Her expression slackened.
“Deeper now. You don’t need to think. Just listen.”
Her arms rested on the desk, so heavy. Her lips parted.
“I asked him what he was doing to me,” Emma whispered. “Uhh… But I might not have asked out loud. It felt so weird. I don’t even remember.”
Her blouse was half unbuttoned. It took a long time, her fingers felt clumsy.
He was sitting on the desk right in front of her now. Holding the pendant still. Her eyes were glued to it. Or maybe she just couldn’t think about not looking.
“Good girl. You’re responding perfectly.”
She finished with the buttons. Stood up when he told her to. Passive as he pushed the blouse off her shoulders. It draped across the back of her chair.
He brushed her hair back over her shoulder. “Undo your bra.”
Emma’s fingers obeyed. Her face was blank. Eyes unfocused.
He smiled. “You’re a natural, Emma.”
Claire’s mouth felt dry. She realized it was hanging open in horror. “Emma,” she croaked, “you think he… what? Like, hypnotized you?”
“I think so… I don’t know!” Emma said quickly. “I didn’t want to strip in my professor’s office, right?! But… something about it—keeps pulling me back. I’ve gone to see him three more times.”
She knelt on the carpet, naked except for her soaked underwear. Her fingers worked under the fabric, masturbating because he’d told her to. Her eyes were wide and unblinking.
She moaned softly as Alden thrust his hips forward, and her throat stretched around his cock.
His hand gripped her hair. He grunted.
“That’s it. Obedient. Empty. So good for me.”
She moaned, unable to speak. She couldn’t think of anything to say, anyway. There was nothing in her brain but pleasure.
Claire leaned in, heart racing. “That’s crazy, Emma! That’s—he hypnotized you to—Emma, we have to tell someone!”
Emma flinched. “I’m scared, Claire. Who’s gonna believe me? I mean… do you?”
Claire hesitated, chewing her lip. Emma made a despairing sound. “See?!”
“Emma, look. I believe something happened. Alden did something to you, and you didn’t want it. That’s enough, ok? I believe you.”
“I don’t know what I want anymore,” Emma said, tears in her eyes. “I feel like I’m… like there’s two of me. Part of me wants to go scream at everyone in the admin building. Get his ass indicted. But there’s this other part that just wants to go back to him. To kneel. To obey.
“…And I hate how good that feels.”
Claire’s face was tight. “That’s not you. I mean, if he hypnotized you… He did that to you.”
Emma hesitated. “I think he’s still doing it. Even now.”
Claire stood. “We can go to the dean. Or the cops. Or—I don’t know, someone! Who do we report evil hypnotists to?”
Emma laugh-sobbed. “Claire! Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not.” She sat next to Emma on the bed, put an arm around her. “I’m not. I promise. I’ll help you figure this out.”
“Ok,” Emma said, and took a deep breath. “Come with me to his office.”
Claire paused. “What? Why? Like, confront him?”
Emma wiped at her eyes. “No, not while he’s there. He keeps the pendant in his desk. I just—I need you to see it. To really believe me.”
Claire looked at her. “Didn’t I say I believed you?”
Emma gave a weak, haunted smile. “Well, ok. I think I need someone else to see it so I believe it myself.”
Claire hesitated. Sighed. Then grabbed her jacket. “Let’s go.”
Emma stood slowly, smoothing her shirt. She walked to the door first, then turned back, relief on her face. “Claire, I’ve been so… I don’t know. Thank you.”
Claire gave her a smile she hoped was supportive. But something in Emma’s face, she couldn’t tell what, sent a chill down her spine.
Claire followed Emma into the quiet hall of the empty Psych department. The low evening sun made tracks of light and shadow on the carpet. She felt like they were in a spy movie, like something terrible would happen if they were caught, though there was nothing wrong with students merely being in this part of the building.
Breaking into a professor’s office, though… but when they got to Professor Alden’s door, Emma turned the knob and opened it. The office was unlocked, but the professor wasn’t there. Emma didn’t seem to find this strange. Claire wondered what that meant.
“Emma?”
Emma didn’t reply. She walked straight to the desk like she’d done it before.
Claire hung back, arms crossed, more wary than she let on. “You’re sure he left it here?”
Emma opened the top drawer. “He always took it out of this drawer…” A soft jingle of chain. “Here.”
She lifted the pendant slowly, like it was fragile, her eyes already fixed on it. The weight at the end caught the fading sunlight—a heavy, polished bead, silver or maybe stone, smooth as glass.
“This is what he used?” Claire said, stepping closer. “To, uh… to hypnotize you?”
Emma nodded without looking at her. “He said it was to help me focus. That if I just watched it… it would help me.”
She held it up, and the chain dangled from her fingers. The pendant swayed in a lazy circle.
Claire gave a short laugh, masking her unease. “But it’s not, like, magic, right? It’s just a necklace.”
“I know,” Emma said, very softly. “That’s what I thought, too.”
She sat across from him, an attentive pupil, watching the pendant. Gradually, her eyes widened. Her jaw relaxed.
His voice was a hum alongside her fixation on the stone: “That’s right, Emma. Just let go.”
She breathed out, lips parting. Her eyelids fluttered, but stayed open. Her arms fell loose in her lap.
In the classroom, Emma turned slightly toward Claire, not meeting her eyes—just holding the pendant so it hung at eye level, gently swaying.
“I didn’t notice it at first. How my eyes kept following it.”
The pendant caught the light again, tiny reflections spinning across its smooth curve.
“It just made sense to keep watching,” Emma continued. “It felt… easier… than looking away.”
Claire frowned. “Emma…”
“I just… I need you to understand what it was like. How fast it happened. How helpless I felt.”
Claire’s shoulders eased. “Okay. Fine. So what happened next?”
Emma nodded and gave the pendant the smallest nudge.
“I’ll show you.”
It swung back and forth. Claire didn’t realize her eyes were following it until she tried to glance at Emma—and didn’t.
Her eyes were glassy now, her head tilting slightly.
“Thoughts drifting…” Alden murmured. “Body, mind softening…”
“Yes, Professor…”
“I remember hearing him,” Emma said, quieter now. Claire had to focus harder to hear. “Even when I couldn’t respond. Like I was underwater, and his voice was the only thing that reached me.”
Back and forth. The pendant caught the last of the daylight. Swinging.
Claire shifted her weight but didn’t move her gaze. Her eyes felt heavy. Not sleepy, just… focused.
“I thought I’d say no,” Emma whispered. “I thought I was saying it. But I wasn’t. My hands were already moving. Following his suggestions.”
Emma rose slowly from the chair, unbuttoning her shirt with mechanical grace.
Her bra slipped down. Her nipples hardened quickly in the cool air. She didn’t look embarrassed. Or aware.
Just calm. Blank. Entranced.
Claire blinked and shook her head, only barely. “He made you… take your clothes off?”
Emma nodded, face pale. Her eyes were wide as they followed the pendant, just like Claire’s. “I didn’t even feel it happen. Like my body stopped needing my permission.”
Back… and forth.
“Like I was just on autopilot, you know?”
Claire nodded. The pendant swung a little slower now. Emma’s voice matched its rhythm without trying.
Claire’s shoulders slouched. Her arms hung loosely at her sides, no longer crossed. Her breathing, unsteady before, was soft and rhythmic.
“I think the worst part,” Emma admitted, voice lower than ever, “was how good it felt. Like he was just… rewriting me? And the new version of me wanted it. Craved it.”
Emma knelt on the carpet, mouth parted, Alden’s hand stroking her hair as she bobbed, glassy-eyed.
“Obedience looks perfect on you,” he said.
She could only moan softly in reply, her pussy pulsing to reward her.
Claire was barely breathing now. Her lips were parted. Her eyes, wide and fixed, had lost their edge.
“I didn’t understand how deep it went,” Emma said, “until the next time I heard his voice. And I got on my knees without thinking.”
The pendant kept swinging. Back and forth.
“I think he wanted me to tell you,” Emma murmured. “To explain what it felt like. So you’d believe me. So you’d understand what it’s like… to belong to him.”
Claire’s brow twitched. Her lips moved.
“Emma,” she whispered. “What?”
She tried to move, but her limbs barely responded. She was aware—but so slow. Like her brain was underwater. She tried to panic, but her breath barely sped up.
“I—” she gasped. “Emma, I can’t—”
“He wanted me to show you how good it feels,” Emma continued, oblivious to her friend’s discomfort. “To just watch. And forget. Watch and forget.”
“W-watch…?” Claire echoed, forgetting to blink, her mind dizzy. “And… forget?”
Something in Claire’s voice, something in the tone, freed Emma’s eyes from tracking the pendant. They locked on Claire’s face. Saw how empty her expression was. How open. How vulnerable. Emma raised her voice.
“Sleep,” she said, and snapped her fingers.
Claire’s body jolted once. Then her shoulders dropped. Her eyes rolled back. Her head slumped forward, mouth still faintly parted.
She was deeply hypnotized. Emma shivered, surprised at the orgasm that bloomed through her whole body.
Emma blinked. She considered Claire. Her friend was standing just across the desk, her arms limp at her sides, breathing slowly. Her eyes were open but distant, pupils dilated, fixed on the pendant as it gently swayed in Emma’s hand.
Emma watched her closely for a moment, head tilted, expression unreadable.
Then she put the pendant down on the desk. Claire didn’t move. Emma made a satisfied noise and slipped her phone out of her pocket. She turned away slightly and dialled.
It rang once, then a click.
“Yes?” Professor Alden’s voice—quiet, expectant.
Emma’s voice shifted as she spoke. Not frightened, not anxious. Now that Claire was subdued, the facade fell away. She sounded calm. Clear. Almost reverent.
“It worked, Professor,” Emma said. “She’s ready.”
A pause on the other end. “Good,” Alden said. “Keep her under. Keep watching the pendant, Emma. Let her breathe in your submission. Let her melt. You can both melt for me. I’ll be there in forty minutes.”
Emma nodded, her voice thick with arousal. “Yes, Professor. I will obey…”
She ended the call and put the phone on the desk next to the pendant. Then she turned back to Claire. The act was gone. She wasn’t programmed to pretend anymore. Her voice was warm now. Worshipful.
“Good girl, Claire,” she murmured. “You did so well.”
Claire didn’t respond. Trance locked her gaze on the point where the pendant used to be. It locked her mind there, too, unable to escape.
Emma took the pendant from the desktop, stepped closer to Claire, holding it up between them.
“You don’t need to think,” she said. She was panting a little, with the anticipation of carrying out Professor Alden’s instructions, and how he’d reward her. “Thinking is too heavy. You’d rather be light. Soft and empty.”
Claire’s breath hitched and then steadied. She whispered something unintelligible. Emma’s eyes joined Claire’s in the pendant’s thrall.
“Soft and empty,” Emma repeated, as though to herself. Her expression softened and emptied obediently. Automatically.
“He’s coming to see us. To train you, just like he trained me. That feels so good. We feel so good, Claire.”
Claire’s lips parted, trembled. Then, “So good…” she agreed.
“It’s okay. You don’t need to speak,” Emma whispered. “Your mind already knows. You’re going to belong to him. Just like me.”
Emma stood tall opposite Claire and let her body fall into parade rest. It felt effortless to hold the pendant between them, to stand still with her hypnotized friend, and join her in Professor Alden’s trance.
Claire mirrored her without being told. It got dark outside, and the office lights came on automatically. But the two spellbound women didn’t look away from the pendant. They just stood, side by side, falling helplessly under the spell of a man who wasn’t even there.
But he would come to claim them soon. The pendant swung like the flame of a forbidden altar, and the faithful stood in a trance, awaiting the master of their ceremony.
2.
The door creaked open and a soft breeze stirred the stillness in the room, fluttering the edges of old papers pinned to the corkboard. Professor Alden stepped inside.
He moved without hurry, coat folded neatly over one arm, his steps measured on the dull linoleum. He closed the door behind him with a quiet click. Then he paused—surveying the scene before him with a knowing smile.
Emma and Claire stood side by side at the front of the room, behind his desk. Backs straight. Faces slack. Their gazes locked, unblinking, on the pendant that swung between them in lazy, hypnotic arcs.
“Perfect,” he muttered. He let the moment stretch, savouring it.
The pendant caught the fluorescent light in soft flashes, marking time in the silent office.
“Good girls,” Alden said.
Neither of them moved. Neither blinked.
Emma’s chest rose and fell slowly, each breath in rhythm with the swing of the pendant. Her face was serene, an almost blissful emptiness radiating from her. Only a slight flush rising in her cheeks showed she had any awareness of the professor’s approach.
Claire was different—more raw, more fragile. Her lips were parted, her expression dazed, her body still as a statue. As if she awaited permission to act like a person.
Alden circled them once, silent, hands loosely clasped behind his back. Inspecting. Admiring. When he came to stand between them, he reached out and put his hand over Emma’s smaller, outstretched hand, stilling the pendant.
Claire’s gaze stayed pinned to the stone, her eyes wide and glassy, as if unwilling—or unable—to look away.
Alden tilted her chin up with a gentle touch, directing her gaze to him. Their eyes met, and he saw it: she was awake enough to see him—but not awake enough to understand.
His smile widened.
“Do you remember your name?” he asked softly.
Claire’s mouth moved. Nothing at first—then a breath of sound.
“…Claire.”
He nodded approval, as if she had passed a test.
“And do you remember why you’re here?”
Claire’s brows knit faintly, as if dredging the thought up from a deep, silty bottom.
“I… was helping… Emma…”
“And now?” His voice dropped lower, smoother, wrapping around her confusion like velvet cords.
“I… don’t know…”
A small shiver rippled through her. Alden’s smile deepened. He leaned closer, speaking just for her.
“You’re here to learn how to serve.”
Claire’s knees bent a fraction of an inch, her body responding instinctively before her mind could catch up.
He leaned in and put a hand against her side, straightening her, his voice calm and unhurried. He could feel Claire trembling under his touch.
“Not yet,” he whispered, a breath against her ear. “Emma’s prepared you well. But you’ll kneel when I say. Not before.”
The tension in Claire’s muscles froze into place—caught between the urge to collapse and the need to obey.
Alden turned slowly to face Emma. Emma who still held the pendant. Emma, who showed no qualms about how she’d betrayed her friend. Her face was a picture of devoted stillness.
“My pet,” he said.
“Yes, Professor.” Her voice was light, melodic. Empty.
“Tell me what happened.”
Emma didn’t hesitate.
“She was trying to help me,” she said, each word falling into place like a bead on a string. “I told her what you did to me. Told her everything. I told her how you showed me… what it means to be yours.”
Her voice grew softer, fonder.
“I led her here. Showed her your pendant. I told her my story. She didn’t even realize I was—was hypnotizing her. Until it was too late.”
Alden chuckled, low in his throat.
“And how do you feel, Emma?”
She smiled faintly, the corners of her mouth trembling with bliss.
“Grateful.”
“Why?”
Her gaze left the pendant at last, her wide eyes shining.
“Because I belong to you.”
“Good girl.”
Her body shivered at the praise, her breath catching, a tiny gasp of pleasure escaping her lips.
Alden took the pendant from her, patted her hand. She still held up her arm like a mannequin, as though she’d forgotten it existed. He gently guided it back to her side.
Then he raised the pendant before his spellbound students once more, holding it delicately, letting it resume its slow, inevitable sway. The chain caught the light again, scattering tiny reflections across their blank faces.
“Watch the pendant,” he said. “You can’t look away.” As though they weren’t already rapt. Perhaps he said it for his own enjoyment. He turned towards Claire.
“You thought you were helping her,” he said. “You thought you could save her from… something. Not that you understood what.”
Her gaze had locked once more onto the pendant, tracking its slow arc with helpless attention.
“Every moment you watched the pendant Emma held,” Alden said, “it was opening you. Every swing pulled you closer to me.”
He turned slightly, glancing at Emma.
“Tell her what happens now.”
Emma’s voice was gentle, loving. “Yes, Professor. He’ll show you what obedience feels like,” she said. “So you never want to think again.”
Claire’s breath made a sharp little sound swallowed almost immediately by the silence. She shivered, but that was the most she could move.
“You’ll love it,” Emma promised, with a serene certainty that brooked no argument. “I do.”
Alden reached out and cupped Claire’s cheek. She leaned into the touch without thinking, her eyes fluttering.
“You don’t need to be afraid,” he said. “Not anymore. You’ve already submitted to me.”
“Submitted… to you,” Claire mouthed. No awareness of what she was saying reached her big, pretty eyes.
Alden smiled as he straightened, raised his hand, and snapped his fingers.
“Strip.”
Claire moved like a marionette. She undid the buttons of her blouse with slow, fumbling hands. She pushed it from her shoulders. Her bra followed, falling to the floor with a soft whisper of lace. Her jeans were next—clumsy, uncoordinated. Alden let out a deep, husky breath. The clumsiness was part of the beauty. He loved the sight of this new pet, thoughtless. Obeying him automatically.
Naked now, Claire stood in front of him, hypnotized, skin flushed.
He pointed. “Up on the desk.”
She moved without further instruction. Claire climbed onto the desk and sat, legs spread slightly, presenting herself to their professor in a way she would have cringed at an hour ago—and now accepted without question.
Alden let the moment breathe, savouring the sight of her. The sterile classroom lights hummed faintly above them. Somewhere outside, a truck engine on the distant highway roared and faded into the night.
Inside, the only sound was the rhythmic swaying of the pendant.
“Emma. Get naked.”
“Yes, Professor.”
Alden smiled, indulgent and cruel, as he watched her obey.
“Now, my pet. Help me reprogram your pretty little friend.”
Emma’s body practically hummed with eagerness. She stepped forward, hands trembling not with fear, but with anticipation. Ready to teach. Ready to guide.
Ready to break Claire the way Alden had broken her.
Claire leaned back on the desk, legs spread wide, holding herself up on her elbows. Her face was blank, slack with a perfect, mindless stillness. Her glazed, unfocused eyes tracked the pendulum Alden swung in slow circles in the air above her—the stone caught the fluorescent light and carved it into rhythmic flashes across her vacant gaze.
She saw nothing else. Nothing but the pendant. Nothing but the slow, beautiful invitation to fall further.
Below her, between her parted thighs, Emma knelt with her hands resting lightly on Claire’s belly. She obeyed without hesitation, without thought, following Alden’s instructions exactly—using her mouth to pleasure her friend, to break her mind with the throbbing ecstasy blooming between Claire’s legs.
Professor Alden stood behind his kneeling slave.
One hand rested lightly on Emma’s bowed head, fingers twined through her hair, possessive and absent at once. The other hand held the pendant aloft, letting it swing, slow and deliberate, commanding Claire’s captive attention.
His voice, when it came, was a warm wave that filled the hollow spaces inside her skull.
“Your name is Claire,” he said. “But that name is tied to thoughts. To decisions. To doubt.”
Claire whimpered as he spoke, but her body didn’t move. She was too deep now. Too far gone.
“And you believe me when I say, don’t you,” Alden asked, “that thought is the root of all confusion?”
Claire’s lips parted. A breath shivered between them. Not an answer, not a protest. Just reflex. Alden nodded as if she had spoken.
“You don’t need thought anymore,” he said. His voice was warm and assured. “You don’t need ‘Claire.’”
He let the silence stretch. Claire stared, blinking once, slow and heavy.
“You only need one thing.” He paused—an artist admiring the trembling canvas before the last stroke.
“Obedience.”
Emma knelt before her Professor. Topless. Eyes wide. The pendant swinging in front of her slack face.
“You don’t need your name,” Alden’s voice crooned.
“You need to serve.”
Emma’s mouth formed the mantra without sound:
Serve. Obey. Forget.
In the present, Alden smiled. He tilted his head slightly, speaking now to the girl eating Claire’s pussy.
“You’re doing such a good job of showing her what it means to serve, Emma.”
Emma whimpered—a needy, eager sound—against Claire’s flushed skin. Claire shivered. Her head tipped back, her chest rising and falling in short, stuttering gasps.
“She touches you because I allow it,” Alden said to Claire. “Because you’ve been so good for me. Because submission is pleasure.”
Claire whimpered, soft and helpless.
Alden smiled, almost gentle.
“Good girl,” he crooned. “Let it happen. Let her reward you. This is what good girls get.”
Claire’s head tilted back farther, exposing her throat. Her mouth sagged open, releasing a soft whimper that spilled out without conscious thought.
“You don’t need to speak,” Alden reassured her. “Just listen. Just feel. Just absorb.”
Emma continued to lick, slow and skilful, as if every motion of her tongue was another stroke painting obedience across Claire’s muted, open mind.
Alden stepped around the desk slowly, deliberately, keeping the pendant aloft so Claire’s unfocused gaze could follow.
“You’re not thinking anymore,” he said. “You’re feeling. And feeling is obedience.”
Claire moaned, a small, broken sound barely louder than the hum of the lights overhead.
Alden smiled again. He stooped down in front of her and cupped her chin in one firm hand, tipping her face slightly upward. The pendant swung just above his knuckles.
“Each time you feel pleasure under my command, your identity weakens.”
Claire whimpered. A needy tremor passed through her.
“Each time you obey,” Alden said, “your name fades.”
Emma moaned softly against Claire’s pussy. Claire gasped. Alden’s thumb brushed her lower lip.
“Each time you’re rewarded,” he said, “you forget what you used to be.”
Claire’s eyes fluttered, confused and helpless.
“Tell me what you are,” Alden said.
Claire’s mouth worked. A shudder of confusion. “I… I don’t…”
Emma’s tongue circled her clit with mechanical devotion. A moan tore from Claire’s throat.
“Say it,” Alden commanded, his voice a leash snapping tight.
Claire’s mouth trembled.
“I’m… obedient.”
“Good girl,” Alden said.
Emma kneeled between Alden’s legs, naked and worshipful.
“Who do you belong to, pet?”
“You, Professor.”
“What is your purpose, pet?”
“To serve and obey.”
“Do you need to remember anything else, my pet?”
“No, Professor.”
Back in the classroom, Alden leaned closer, his breath brushing Claire’s cheek.
“This is who you are now,” he said, voice full of dark satisfaction. “Not Claire. Not a student. Just this.”
His fingers traced a line down her neck—so softly it could have been mistaken for affection.
“An open, empty mind,” he whispered.
Claire’s body shuddered. Her head rolled back, baring herself to him more fully.
“A pleasure-trained slave girl.”
Emma’s motions never stopped, her pace slow, unthinking, perfectly in tune with Alden’s rhythm. A perfect example of what Claire was becoming.
“And when I call you my pet…” Alden told her, “your thoughts will disappear. Your training will take over. You’ll be mine, completely.”
He stepped behind Claire, leaving her quivering on the desk, trembling with desperate need and mindless longing.
He raised his voice just enough to let it curl into her ear, heavy and deep.
“Shut your mind off for me, pet.”
Claire inhaled sharply and then—stilled. Her muscles relaxed all at once. A trickle of drool ran down her chin. Her eyelids fluttered before settling half-closed, her gaze hollow and unfocused.
Claire was gone.
Alden lowered the pendant.
He stroked Emma’s hair once, a wordless signal. She stopped licking her friend’s cunt. She knelt upright between Claire’s legs, hands resting neatly on her own thighs, paying no attention to what dripped from her mouth or the heat radiating from her body.
Emma was content. Fulfilled. Waiting.
“You’re both mine,” Alden said, surveying them like a sculptor admiring his finished works. “And you’re both ready.”
He dropped the pendant on the desk next to Claire. He reached down and unbuckled his belt. The sound—metal against leather—seemed impossibly loud in the quiet room.
Emma moved first. She slid to him on her knees without hesitation, her fingers unzipping his pants with deft, reverent care. She waited, poised, lips parted, until he gave the slightest nod. Then she took his cock between her lips slowly. Worshipful. No urgency. Only devotion.
Claire watched from the desk. Frozen. Blank. Her breath shuddered from her open mouth, her pupils dilated with helpless need.
Alden held Emma’s head gently in both hands and fucked her face. He looked at Claire and smiled.
“This is your future,” he told her. His voice slid into her open mind like silk through fingers.
“No name.”
Emma moaned softly, lost in her work.
“No thoughts.”
Claire whimpered, her hand moving thoughtlessly to her pussy to replace Emma’s mouth.
“Just pleasure.”
Claire pressed her palm into her clit and shuddered, nodding.
“Just obedience.”
Claire’s body rocked faintly, following the soft, rhythmic sounds of Emma’s worship.
“Just me, my pet.”
Claire’s pupils widened further. Her body swayed slightly forward, caught in the gravitational pull of submission.
“Just you,” she whispered.
“And when I count to three,” Alden said, “you’ll awaken… just enough to know what you want to do.”
“One…”
Emma’s soft, wet sounds filled the room—eager, reverent.
“Two…”
The warm scent of arousal and submission hung thick in the air, saturating every breath.
“Three.”
Claire’s head lifted. Her mouth closed slightly, trembling. Her throat was dry, her body stiff, but she had only a single need to fulfil. Slowly, unsteadily, she slid off the desk, onto the floor. She crawled forward. Drawn irresistibly.
Joining Emma in service.
3.
The office was quiet. There were the soft, wet sounds of Emma’s mouth, the low rustle of movement, Alden’s low moans of pleasure, and Claire’s shallow breathing as she knelt beside her friend, her fellow pet—eyes wide, lips parted, watching intently.
Professor Alden towered over them, hand resting gently on Emma’s head as she sucked his cock slowly, rhythmically, reverently. His other hand reached for Claire, caressing her face with the same calm intimacy as his voice.
“There’s no more distinction,” he said. “No more difference between thought and action. No past. No doubt.”
Claire leaned into his hand.
“You’re not just friends anymore,” he said, voice rich and low. “You’re sisters in submission. Slaves molded from the same will. My mindless pets.”
Emma moaned around his cock—whether in response to his words or in reflexive pleasure, it no longer mattered.
Alden guided Claire’s head forward.
“She taught you how to surrender to me,” he said. “And now you’ll learn to serve just like her.”
Claire opened her mouth, soft, wet, and willing.
He took turns with each of them, and they worshiped him eagerly, sharing him—alternating, synchronized, their movements fluid and automatic. No hesitation. No self. Just rhythm and breath and submission. He looked down at them as they swallowed his shaft, again and again. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
“Good girls. Perfect pets.”
Emma on her knees—not this time, but the first time.
“You crave this all the time, now. My pleasure defines you.”
“Yes, Professor.”
“Every time you make me cum, you go deeper. Every drop rewrites you.”
“Mmm, yes…”
Back in the present, the pace increased. He threaded fingers through their hair, tightening slightly—not to control them, but to feel their obedience. How naturally they moved. How fully they belonged to him now.
“You don’t need to know who you used to be,” he said, panting now. “Only what you’re for.”
Emma moaned again.
“Only what we’re for,” Claire whimpered. Her cunt wanted her touch, but her hands slid behind her back, fingers laced together, instinctively presenting herself.
“Obedience is pleasure,” Alden groaned, prompting them.
“Pleasure is obedience,” Emma murmured, voice trembling with bliss. Claire’s mouth was full at that moment, but she thought the same words.
“Repeat it,” Alden ordered.
Together, two voices—soft, worshipful:
“Obedience is pleasure… pleasure is obedience…”
Between recitals, they continued to worship him with their mouths; soft tongues, eager lips, yielding throats. His breath quickened, and he pulled out of Claire’s mouth just in time—Just in time to cum. There was enough to mark both their faces, their wet, wanton lips.
His pets didn’t pause. They didn’t flinch. They drank him in—the rhythm, the taste, the final sealing of their new selves.
“Feeling me finish… completes you,” he said. “You understand your new purpose. You love your new purpose.”
At that moment, both of them did.
Claire’s eyes fluttered closed, a blissful moan slipping from her throat as if the orgasm was hers. Her body shuddered—not from sex, but from a deeper satisfaction.
Emma leaned into Alden’s thigh, inhaling his scent. She smiled faintly, dreamily, lips wet and eyes glowing.
Alden petted both of them then stepped back slowly, tucking himself away, watching as the two girls sank into a soft, kneeling stillness—heads bowed, breath slowing.
He admired the sight. Then he cupped their chins, one at a time.
“Mine,” he said.
They both nodded.
He crouched between them. “You serve one purpose now,” he whispered. “To obey me. To please me. To want nothing but this.”
Claire murmured, “Yes, Professor…”
Emma echoed, “Always, Professor…”
He leaned in closer, speaking low and calm, imprinting the final layer. “Every time you hear my voice, you remember this feeling. Every time you see me, your knees will ache to hit the floor. Your mouth will water. Your thoughts will vanish.”
“Our thoughts…” Claire began.
“…will vanish,” Emma finished.
Their shackled minds were in sync under his power. Their breathing matched. They watched him, perfectly still.
“And if I say your trigger…” He smiled.
“My pets.”
They both exhaled at once, their faces relaxing completely—eyes unfocused, mouths parted.
Gone.
Perfect, obedient, hypnotized pets.
He stood tall and looked at them, naked, kneeling, still. His loyal, beautiful thralls, both of them. Tomorrow, they’d wake in their dorms. Maybe they’d remember some of this, maybe they wouldn’t. But he knew when they heard his voice in class, they’d feel it. Deep in their bones.
That aching, helpless need to serve. And they might not understand it, but their fate was sealed. They were his pets. They would want nothing else. He wouldn’t let them.
The lecture hall was warm with late-afternoon sun. Dust motes drifted in the sunbeams slanting through the tall windows. Outside, the low hum of the quad carried on—students laughing, calling goodbyes, the buzz of weekend freedom.
Inside, the room was heavy and still, filled with Professor Alden’s low, patient voice. Many of his students were drowsy and inattentive at this time of day; but at least two of them were riveted.
Claire sat in the fourth row. Emma was just behind her. Both women sat up straight, notebooks open in front of them, pens held loosely in their hands. Half-hearted notes scattered across the pages. A single glance would tell anyone they were ordinary students, caught halfway between attention and daydream. But if you looked closer…
Claire’s knuckles whitened where she clutched her pen.
Emma’s thighs pressed tightly together, a small, almost imperceptible squirm shivering through her every few seconds.
Their eyes, wide and unblinking, followed the professor as he paced slowly across the front of the hall. They weren’t thinking about his lecture, not really. They were thinking about his voice. About the way it slid beneath their skin.
“When we talk about identity and suggestion,” Alden said, walking past the whiteboard without glancing at it, “we’re really talking about the illusion of choice.”
Claire’s breath hitched. She shifted slightly in her seat, squeezing her thighs together, her fingers trembling.
Behind her, Emma bit her lip, the motion instinctive and needy.
They weren’t aware of each other. They weren’t even truly aware of themselves. Not consciously. But somewhere deep—so deep they could never have found it on their own—something inside them was aching. Every sentence he spoke wound them tighter.
“You are the stories you repeat,” Alden said, voice resonant. As though he were speaking only to them. “You are the rituals that shape your inner world.”
Claire’s lips parted around a soundless breath. Emma shifted again, her breath coming faster now. Neither of them understood why their bodies burned, why the world beyond his voice blurred and flattened. They only knew they needed him.
The clock on the wall ticked down. When the bell rang—a sudden sharp sound cutting through the thick silence—Emma and Claire stood, simultaneously. They gathered their things with mechanical efficiency, loose papers slipping forgotten into backpacks, pens abandoned.
They made a bee-line for Professor Alden’s office, knowing he’d meet them there. Neither of them said a word to their fellow students. They walked in step, drawn along by an invisible tether, soft and certain, towards their desire.
The blinds in Alden’s office were drawn and the afternoon light was a warm glow behind them. The door opened and clicked shut behind the Professor himself.
His pets stood at his desk, awaiting his command. Neither girl spoke. They didn’t need to. He gestured once, slow and deliberate.
Claire moved first, hands trembling as she lifted the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head and dropping it onto the floor. Her jeans followed—peeled smoothly down her legs.
Her naked body was still flushed from the heat of the lecture, still aching from the words that had soaked into her skin like the midday sunlight.
Emma moved around the desk without hesitation, silent and composed. Her fingers found the top drawer and slid it open. The soft jingle of a chain, and the pendant emerged, swinging gently from her hand as she came around to stand with Claire, taking her place in the little drama Alden had programmed them to perform.
Alden took a seat in his chair, his posture relaxed but commanding. He waved to Claire, and she climbed into his lap. She straddled him, her back to his chest, facing Emma across the desk. Her bare skin pressed against his clothes, the roughness sending a shiver through her.
She felt him getting hard as she rubbed her ass against his trousers, and couldn’t wait to have him inside her.
Alden exhaled slowly. He freed his cock, then slid his warm hands up Claire’s sides, tracing the trembling lines of her submission. He reached her breasts and felt her nipples stiffen under his touch.
Claire’s cunt was soaking wet. She eased herself down onto him with a breathless gasp, her hips rolling forward instinctively, eyes fluttering as her body accepted him.
She didn’t know why this felt so exactly right. Only that it did.
Across the desk, Emma stood like a soldier, lifted the pendant and let it swing. It caught the sunset, the polished surface flashing with every movement. Back and forth. Instantly hypnotic.
Claire gasped, eyes locked on the pendant. Instantly hypnotized.
Alden’s hands cupped her breasts, holding her steady as she moved—slow, steady, rhythmic. Each roll of her hips matched the arc of the pendant. She saw nothing but the pendant. It was so familiar, its rhythm comforting.
Emma’s voice began, low and even. Just as Alden had taught her.
“Obedience is pleasure,” she said.
Claire’s lips parted. Without thinking, without hesitation, she repeated it:
“Obedience is pleasure.”
Alden’s hands moved to her hips, guiding her motion. He sank into his seat as she rode his cock.
“We don’t need to think,” Emma intoned.
Claire echoed, breathless: “We don’t need to think…”
Her body rocked forward and back, the pendant swinging in front of her eyes; the words carving deeper channels into her mind.
“We don’t need to remember,” Emma said.
Claire moaned—a soft, broken sound—and repeated, “We don’t… remember…”
Emma swayed slightly, the pendant swinging wider now, her own eyes glassy and unfocused. The pendant entranced her as deeply as Claire, and her mind vanished in the litany of obedience she was weaving around them both.
Alden leaned in, his breath hot against Claire’s ear.
“Look at your friend. She’s nothing but my tool. Just a useful object. Like you are.”
Claire shivered violently. “Yes… just like me…”
Her voice was thin and breaking, a scrap of something old unraveling at the edges.
“We only need to please him,” Emma said, steady. “We only need to obey.”
Claire’s hips moved faster, her cunt slick and trembling, her body driven by a need deeper than thought, deeper than memory.
“The people we were… are gone,” Emma said, her voice richer now, soaked in certainty.
“We are his pets.”
Feeling Alden’s cock thrust deeper inside her, Claire knew it was true. She moaned—a raw, desperate cry torn from somewhere hollowed out and new inside her. “His pets!”
The pendant kept swinging. Back and forth.
The air was thick with heat, the heavy scent of sex and submission curling around them. Alden’s hands roamed Claire’s body, possessive, indulgent.
“My pet,” he growled, his voice velvet and iron entwined. “Tell me.”
“I am yours,” Claire gasped, her voice shaking apart. The deeply programmed words emerged. “I am obedient. I forget. I serve. I love to serve. I was made to serve.”
The words fell from her mouth like prayer, a worship she could no longer resist—or even imagine resisting.
“Obedience is pleasure,” Emma droned. “Pleasure is obedience.”
Their voices merged—two threads woven into one binding cord.
Hypnotized.
Hypnotizing.
Alden groaned, his hands locking tighter around Claire’s waist. He was losing control, his cock pulsing, but in this position most of the movement was hers.
She had no choice but to oblige, and cried out as she came—shuddering, writhing, riding him harder as pleasure ripped through her, pure and helpless.
He followed suit, groaning against her ear, his body tightening, both of them locked together at the precipice and then falling, tumbling into the heat and stillness beyond thought.
Emma’s voice never wavered, as though she were on stage in the lecture hall.
“This is who we are now. We are his. We were always his.”
Claire moaned again, softer now, the word barely audible.
“Always…”
The pendant slowed, the swing growing smaller, smaller… until it hung still.
Alden and Claire collapsed into each other—his arms loose around her waist, her bare skin pressed against him, trembling and dazed.
Emma lowered the pendant gently onto the desk. She came around and knelt beside them without hesitation, without thought, resting her cheek against Alden’s thigh. Like the devoted pet she was.
He stroked her hair slowly, indulgently.
Claire lay against his chest, her lips still moving in tiny, broken whispers of the mantras Emma had fed her. The mantras that would live inside her now. Wrapped in the heat of their bodies, everything inside Claire that wasn’t obedience was gone. For good.
Morning, days later. The quad was sunny. Students sprawled on the grass in lazy clusters, backpacks tossed carelessly aside. The air was thick with the scent of fresh-cut lawn and of coffee from a nearby cart.
Maya sat beneath a wide oak tree, her back against the rough bark, scrolling idly through her phone. It was too nice a day to study.
Claire spotted her from across the path. Maya, the pretty sophomore she’d sat next to in class. Something tightened inside her chest. A ripple of anticipation—or was it hunger?—that she couldn’t name.
She crossed the grass quickly, her sandals whispering over the concrete.
“Maya?” she called, her voice light, almost hesitant.
Maya looked up, shading her eyes with one hand. She recognized Claire and smiled immediately, warm and easy.
“Hey! Where’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in class for a few—”
Claire crouched down beside her before she could finish, hands twisting nervously at the hem of her skirt.
“I need to talk to you,” she said, low and urgent.
Maya’s smile faded. She sat up straighter. “Okay. What’s going on?”
Claire hesitated, glancing over her shoulder as if worried someone might be listening. The quad buzzed on, oblivious. She turned back, eyes wide, voice dropping to a whisper.
“It’s about one of our professors. Professor Alden.”
Maya’s brow furrowed. “The Psychiatry guy?”
Claire leaned in, her fingers tightening around the fabric clutched in her lap.
“Psychology. I’ve been going to his office for extra tutoring. After hours.”
Maya shifted uncomfortably. “Um. Okay…?”
Claire’s voice trembled, as though she were afraid to say the next part aloud. “I think he’s doing something to me.”
Maya’s mouth opened slightly, her eyes flickering with confusion and unease.
Claire pressed on, words spilling out faster now, as if once begun she couldn’t stop.
“I can’t explain it. It’s like—I go there, and things feel… strange. Different. Like I’m not all there.”
Maya leaned closer, concern deepening the crease between her brows. “What do you mean? Like he’s making you feel uncomfortable, or—?”
Claire shook her head frantically. “No, it’s not like that. It’s worse. I think…”
She dropped her voice to a whisper so soft Maya had to lean in to hear. “I think he’s hypnotizing me.”
Maya froze. Her phone slipped from her fingers onto the grass with a soft thud. For a moment, neither of them moved. Maya laughed, once. Loud and awkward.
“Hah! Right. You’re kidding.”
Claire looked at her with wide, earnest eyes. Vulnerable. Scared.
“You’re… not kidding?”
Claire shifted on the grass, nervous and uncomfortable. “I thought if someone could help me find, you know, evidence…” she gulped, “it would prove I’m not crazy.”
Maya stared at her, wide-eyed. It sounded crazy. But she liked Claire. And Claire seemed really worried.
The morning sun dappled the grass around them. Students laughed in the distance. Maya put a supportive hand on her friend’s knee.
“Claire, I’m so sorry… What do you need me to do?”
END