The last student had cleared out twenty-one minutes ago. 

Emma knew without checking the time. She tracked these things efficiently, automatically, small administrative data points quickly processed and registered, then filed away if useful for the future, noted and discarded if not.  

The fluorescent overhead buzzed its single flat note, a B-flat according to her perfect pitch. The air conditioning rumbled, a distant HVAC unit somewhere clunking to life every hour to run stagnant air through the building. Her red pen scratched away efficiently, now onto Richardson's third page, some garbled mess about recursion. The coffee on the corner of her desk had gone cold an hour ago, its slightly scorched smell mixing with her subtle white tea-and-bergamot perfume and the stale recycled musk unique to a basement classroom. 

Among the PhD students, and even among the brilliant scientific minds of the faculty, Emma was known to be something of a genius herself. She spearheaded several research projects that secured an obscene amount of funding and grants for the university, vaulting her up the ranks of PhD students, to the point where she was working directly with Professor Parker, the revered CS department chair, one of the brightest in the nation, as his right-hand man -- or woman, as it were. 

But if someone had walked into this office at this moment, her brilliance would not be the first thing, or even the second, or third, or tenth thing they noticed. Everyone who saw Emma for the first time always did a sometimes small – but usually big -- involuntary double take. Because Emma was, to put it simply, a knockout.  

She completely shattered the stereotypical image of a geeky computer scientist. Long blonde hair fell in soft waves past her collarbone, framing a face that belonged on the cover of a magazine, sparkling blue eyes that gazed out sharp and quick, high cheekbones that rivaled those of sculpted supermodels, full lips pressed together in an unimpressed line. She was tall, slender, and long-legged, with a perfect hourglass figure you’d expect to find on the runway, although you’d never know it with how she dressed. Emma knew the effect she had on people. But she viewed her beauty as a mild annoyance, a distraction, that took away from her effort, her work, her accomplishments. And so, she spent considerable effort making her body irrelevant, with baggy crewnecks and loose jeans as her standard armor. Her lethal face card, unfortunately, she couldn’t do much about, as even without makeup she was stunning, much to her chagrin. But on rare occasions, the armor would slip, like today. The cream-colored turtleneck and the dark flared jeans she'd hurriedly threw on this morning fit her body snugly, perhaps too snugly -- the ribbed knit of the turtleneck pulling taut across the full generous weight of her chest before cinching at her narrow waist, the denim tracing the curve of her hips and the firm line of her thighs down to her low-heeled boots, stretching and shifting and molding as she paced back and forth in front of the classroom -- something she hadn't fully registered until halfway through her second discussion, when she noticed the class was, let’s say, more distractable than usual. The whole ensemble had made three separate students lose their train of thought mid-sentence. Like everything else, she'd noted this with mild irritation and moved on. 

It’ll come as no surprise, then, that her office hours were the most sought after, students packing in every inch of the glorified storage closet, male and female alike, hoping for even a sliver of her attention. With some effort, one could reasonably imagine that they were there for her help with assignments – after all, Parker’s CS classes consistently boasted one of the lowest averages across the entire university, and she was probably the smartest person in the entire university.  

Ah, who am I kidding. Obviously that was not why they were there. Of course, Emma ignored her class-wide popularity, as she did most things she deemed unimportant, but her office hours had become so overflowing, she briefly added online sessions – which were sparse and short-lived as she only shared her screen, without her camera on. Anyone’s guess on why those weren’t nearly as packed.  

Rumor has it that some bolder students, years ago, had mustered the courage to ask her out at the end of the semester, only to be immediately and harshly shut down. People hypothesized she had a boyfriend – how could she not? Or, you know, I guess she could’ve been just enforcing professional boundaries, and just would rather not date hormonal college students that had lusted after her for months. Who’s to say. 

But yes, Emma had it all. It was like she existed to defy all expectations of her, as a woman in STEM, as a blonde woman in STEM, as an extremely hot blonde woman in STEM. She possessed a devastating, some might even say unfair, combination of beauty and brains. A long line of recruiters had been trying to woo her to their tech companies, and an even longer line of recruiters had been trying to get her to be the face of several high-end brands. And yet, here she was, far from the glitz and glamour of Paris Fashion Week or the tech paradise of Silicon Valley, sitting in a dumpy old basement. The universe is funny sometimes. 

Grimacing, Emma rolled her neck against the knot that had formed between her shoulder blades sometime last week and refused to go away. She sometimes felt like she should probably cut back – but the Type A in her wouldn’t allow it. She worked hard to get here, and she wasn’t going to let up now. Bleh. Next assignment. 

She thought: Seven more assignments. Review some proposals. Gym. Dinner. Take a look at the conference Parker wanted her to represent him at.  

A light knock at the door. She glanced up. Gave the same brisk nod she gave everyone. “Hey. You’ve finally remembered you need to turn this in to graduate.” 

--- 

Daniel was a pretty good student, most of the time. He did his assignments on time, give or take a few days, scored well on tests, participated enough in discussions, mostly relying on his natural intelligence to carry him through college. But Parker’s final project had really kicked his ass. When he had slinked up to Parker like a beaten dog with his tail between his legs to ask for yet another extension, Daniel truly questioned whether CS was in his future. Especially if he didn’t pass the final project and couldn’t graduate and had to repeat the class. Goodbye, offer from Herd. Goodbye, lucrative software engineering career. Hello, living at home with the parents.  

Parker had given him a hard stare before he sighed. “Daniel. This is the third extension I’d be giving you.” 

“So you are giving me an extension?” 

Parker rolled his eyes. “Your TA, Connor, tells me you’re brilliant. He also tells me you’re lazy.” 

Daniel offered up a hopeful smile. “Trying to do better.” 

“Brilliance is not enough, young man. You have to work hard,” Parker retorted. “But...yes, I am giving you an extension.” 

“Professor, thank you so much!” 

Parker held up his finger. “Not so fast. I’m giving you this last extension, on one condition. I’ll set up an office hour with Emma next week, to make sure any kinks are worked out before you come crawling to me for a fourth extension. Which, by the way, I will not grant. So you better make good use of this one.” 

Daniel left with mixed feelings – on one hand, he appreciated the extension. On the other hand, he dreaded the thought of not only needing to have his project in an acceptable state in a week’s time, but also having it evaluated by Emma. She was notorious for having almost as high of a standard for her students as she did for herself, and often ripped assignments to shreds. No thank you. Daniel was more than happy to daydream about her from the back row.  

But now. An opportunity of a lifetime, gift-wrapped and hand-delivered, practically placed in his lap. It’d be a crime not to take advantage of it. 

--- 

Daniel rapped on the doorframe, poking his head around the corner to peer into the cramped classroom where he was greeted with an inviting nod. 

Entering, Daniel smiled sheepishly. “Better late than never right?” 

Emma snorted. “That's an understatement. I've never even seen Parker hand out this many extensions, period, let alone for the final project.” She pushed some papers aside. “So, what do you have for me?” 

Daniel fished out the VR headset. "It’s a VR game, basically eye-tracking, but, um, with sensors built it that can read your brainwaves and extrapolate your intentions. No need for any handheld remotes or anything,” he lied. 

Emma’s eyes flicked to the sleek headset, then back to him. She raised an eyebrow. “VR? The industry is moving away from that, you know. And reading brainwaves...that company, BrainLink or whatever, they haven’t even worked out the kinks. This is very...ambitious...to say the least.” 

Daniel smiled, offering the headset to her. “I’m nothing if not ambitious. But umm, I do need to make sure the eye-tracking is calibrated to you first though. For each new user, you know. Just press Mode 0 right there..." 

--- 

Emma slipped on the headset, pressed the button as instructed, and the display bloomed to life, filling her vision with a swirling kaleidoscope of colors and patterns, indigo and gold and magenta and emerald collapsing into each other. 

She frowned slightly. “This is the calibration? It’s a lot. Pretty overwhelming.” 

“Yeah, I’ve heard that a lot.” From beside her, Daniel sounded unconcerned. “People like it once it stabilizes though.”  

“Okaaaay...” 

“Yeah, don’t worry. You see the numbers floating around? Just look at them, the eye-tracking will pick it up, and it’ll adjust.” 

Emma squinted at the pulsing vortex, already mentally drafting feedback. Overstimulating. Lacks intuitive design. Definitely points off if this is what he turns in. Her eyes darted around as the patterns accelerated and the calibration numbers jumped around erratically at breakneck speed. And there was something else -- a flicker, some static or glitch perhaps, not super noticeable but distracting enough to keep pulling her attention away from the numbers. 

She gritted her teeth and pushed ahead. 

Emma didn't notice the exact moment, but an uncertain amount of time later (odd, she had an unfailing internal clock) she found that her shoulders had slowly relaxed, her arms had settled into her lap, her breathing had slowed to match the now-gently throbbing pulses of color. She opened her mouth to tell Daniel her feedback from before. Her list of critiques dissolved mid-thought. “Colors are pretty,” she said instead. Daniel was right, she supposed, after she had gotten over the initial visual onslaught, it seemed like they had slowed down. Still as unpredictable ever (why couldn’t she figure out the damn pattern!) and the glitches seemed to be happening more frequently, but everything was less dizzying now. 

“See? I told you people liked it,” Daniel said, his voice sounding annoyingly smug. 

“But...umm...it’s kinda been going on for a while...” Emma slurred. “Do I just keep watching?” 

“Yes, that’s right. Just keep watching.” 

“Okay.” 

Emma went back to staring at the swirls. It was quite nice, actually, once the colors had slowed. She stopped trying to figure out the pattern, which was unusual for her, but it was so much easier to just watch. Easier to just not think too hard about it. And easier felt good. God, it felt good. It felt so good to just watch and let them swirl and pulse and throb and do whatever they were doing and feel the tension she carried in her body melt away. Hell, even that knot had loosened, if just ever so slightly. Something about it when she just kept watching made her feel incredibly good. 

She supposed she’d been wound tight lately. All those nearly impossible deadlines (admittedly self-imposed). Grant proposals stacking up. The constant pressure of being the person this entire department needed her to be, every single day without fail. Finals season grinding down on her on top of all of it. Ugh, even just thinking about it now made her - 

The colors pulsed. 

Emma’s lips parted slightly. What was she thinking about again? She furrowed her brow. This was unlike her, losing her train of thought. Her brain was the Swiss railway of brains, the Schweizerische Bundesbahnen of brains, if you will – her trains of thought did not get lost, or even delayed, they were always on time and precise, down to the millisecond. But now, she felt like she was in München Hauptbahnhof, the Munich Central Station, with trains too early, too late, or nowhere to be found at all. Simply put, her thoughts were a mess. She tried latching on to some, like a child reaching for her birthday balloons drifting out of her reach. If she could just grab one - 

The colors pulsed again. 

Emma was aware that she’d been trying to think of something. She'd been in the middle of something and then simply...wasn't. This was unusual. She reached for the next thought.  

The next one wasn’t there either.  

Her head lolled slightly. She could feel some drool start to accumulate. Her mouth had been open quite a while, she dimly realized. Not that she could do anything about it. Which should’ve bothered her, but she found that she couldn't quite summon the energy to mind. Her head felt heavy, her shoulders felt heavy. Everything felt really heavy. Even that knot between her shoulder blades was gone somehow. Just disappeared while she wasn’t paying attention. 

When had that happened? 

The colors pulsed.  

She thought: I should really -- 

The colors pulsed. 

She thought: I should - 

The colors pulsed. 

She thought: 

Nothing. 

“How are we doing?” Daniel’s voice pierced through her brain fog. 

Underneath the headset, Emma blinked slowly, breaking the intense focus she wasn’t even aware she had. She parted her lips slightly to answer. Her tongue felt thick and uncooperative. “Mmm.” She'd meant to say something more complete — had a sentence in mind, she was fairly sure — but the sentence had gone wherever the rest of her thoughts had gone and what remained was “mmm.”  

“S’nice,” she managed to add. 

The colors pulsed warmly, approvingly. 

“That’s good.” Daniel paused. “Any thoughts?” 

Emma blinked slowly. Waited for her brain to organize a response. “No,” she said softly. “No thoughts.” 

The colors pulsed. Felt even better this time. 

“Good, good. Good girl.” 

Good girl. Emma -- some distant, still-functioning clerk in her brain station -- registered that this should probably seem strange, being called that, here, in her office, by a student. The clerk noted it and filed it and waited for the supervisor to do something with it. 

The supervisor was busy watching the colors. 

“Mode 1 now.” 

She vaguely felt her arm rise, moving on its own despite feeling like it was made of lead. An equally leaden finger pressed a button. Words appeared. 

BLANK 

“...blank.” She repeated it, unsure why, but it just felt right to repeat it. 

EMPTY 

“...empty..” The colors pulsed their approval.  

MINDLESS 

“...mindless...” A shiver moved through her. 

BLANK 

“...blank...” She sighed, a soft exhale escaping her pouty lips. Her shoulders slumped further. 

EMPTY 

“...empty...” 

MINDLESS 

Emma’s mouth hung open. 

She cycled through it again. The words asked nothing of her, demanded nothing from her, except for her to be blank, empty, mindless. She just needed to follow. It was the easiest thing she had ever had to do. 

Somewhere very deep and very far underneath the warm fog, a tiny, distant alarm bell chimed faintly. Warning her. That clerk buried under layers of bureaucracy had bypassed the chain of command, the insolent twat, and was warning her directly: “You should probably stop this.” 

She was annoyed. She didn’t want to stop. She didn’t want to think. Why would she? 

Daniel’s voice cut through the haze to interrupt her fragmented thoughts. 

“That’s it, Emma. Feels good, doesn’t it? To let go? To not have to think. To not need to think. No thoughts. So peaceful. So obedient.” 

She sighed, a soft exhale escaping her pouty lips. Her shoulders slumped further. Something about this was unexpectedly pleasurable. Daniel was right. It felt good to not have to think. To not need to think. To let those pesky thoughts slip away. To be peaceful. To be obedient. 

Obedient...The word echoed pleasantly in the emptiness of her mind. “Yes. Being obedient feels...nice,” Emma murmured. 

"Good girl," Daniel praised. "You want to be a good girl for me, don't you? It brings you pleasure, doesn’t it?" 

"Yes..." Emma breathed. "Good girl...pleasure..." 

Every repetition seemed to relax her even further as she sat limply in her chair. Her fingers, usually tapping impatiently on keyboards or gesturing emphatically during lectures, twitched only slightly in her lap. A thin line of drool escaped the corner of her mouth, tracing a path down her chin onto her turtleneck. 

“Such a good girl, Emma,” Daniel purred. “So blank. So empty. So mindless.” 

“Yesss...” Emma breathed, her lips barely moving. "Blank...empty...mindless...” 

“It feels good, doesn’t it? Feels good to obey?” 

“Yes...obey...feels...good..." 

Jesus Christ. The most unobtainable person on this campus. The one everyone said was impossible. And here she was. 

He straightened up, reached past her and pressed Mode 2. 

--- 

The colors shifted. 

DANIEL IS MY MASTER 

“daniel is my master.” 

IT FEELS GOOD TO OBEY MY MASTER 

“it feels good to obey my master.” It did. Obeying felt good. 

I LOVE TO OBEY MY MASTER 

“i love to obey my master.” She pressed her thighs together.  

THE MORE I OBEY, THE BETTER I FEEL 

“the more i obey the better i feel...” Another thread of saliva fell from her lower lip. 

THE BETTER I FEEL, THE BLANKER I AM 

“...the better i feel the blanker i am...” Her nipples stiffened against her bra. 

THE BLANKER I AM, THE MORE I OBEY 

“...the blanker i am...the more i obey...” Her thighs pressed together again, tighter this time, a warmth blooming between her legs. 

DANIEL IS MY MASTER 

“daniel is my master...” 

IT FEELS GOOD TO OBEY MY MASTER 

“it feels good...to obey...my master...”  

I LOVE TO OBEY MY MASTER 

“i love...to obey...my master...” 

Emma’s head dropped forward, her honey-gold hair falling across the headset. She repeated it again. And again. And again. Old Emma might’ve said she repeated it eight times. New Emma, current Emma, didn’t care at all. 

Daniel’s calibration had shattered her, reducing the now-broken mind of the once-brilliant TA into a muddled mess. The hot blonde was so mindless and empty she could no longer register how insane this was, how wrong this was, how fucking hot it was to surrender and be blank and be told what to do. Her focus was solely on the swirling colors, on the overwhelming need to obey and submit. To Daniel. To her Master. 

That distant clerk -- the one who had noted good girl as strange, who had filed the anomaly and waited for a supervisor who never came -- had gone home for the evening. The station was empty. 

What a relief that was. 

All her life, she had always been on, always go-go-go, all gas no brakes. The perfect grades, the groundbreaking research, the funding proposals, the flawless presentations, the unspoken expectation that she had to be the smartest person in every room. The constant, crushing need to perform at the highest level, never slipping, never resting, never allowing a single distracting thought. 

And now that crushing weight was being gently, irresistibly erased by the swirling colors. 

She was blank and empty and mindless and her jaw was slack and her eyes were glassy and her hands rested in her lap and she thought about absolutely nothing at all. It was the best she’d felt in years. 

--- 

Daniel watched as the hypnosis program did its work, as Emma's face slackened, then her body slumped back into the chair. She breathed deeply, her chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. He spoke up again, gently, close to her ear. “All of that pressure…all of that need to be the smartest, the best…it feels so good to finally let it all go, doesn’t it?” 

A soft exhale escaped her. “…Yes…” 

“You don’t have to be brilliant right now, Emma. You don’t have to think at all. You don’t have to be anything at all. Just be blank. Empty. Mindless. A perfect, pretty doll with nothing in her head.” 

“...Blank...empty...mindless...” 

“Yes, that’s right. Just a pretty, empty doll for Master.” 

“Doll...For...Master...” 

“Good girl. Stand up.”  

Emma automatically rose to her feet. 

“Take off the headset.” His fingers brushed hers as he guided her hands to the device. She lifted it off, dropping it on the desk with a soft thunk before her arms dropped limply back to her sides.  

“Good girl.” Daniel stood up from the edge of the desk where he'd been leaning and circled her, unhurried, leisurely. Her unfocused eyes stared blankly ahead, pupils dilated, as drool continued to drip down her chin through parted lips. 

“Who am I?” 

“Master,” she breathed.  

“Good girl. And what are you?” 

“Your good girl.” 

"That's right. What do you love to do?” 

"To obey. To please Master." 

 “Good girl.” Daniel smiled. “You are my slave. Your body belongs to me.” 

Emma stared vacantly into space. "Yes Master.” 

“Good girl. Strip for me. Sweater off.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

Emma’s hands moved of their own accord, like a marionette manipulated by invisible strings, held by a master puppeteer. She reached down and gripped the hem of her turtleneck, slowly peeling it upward, revealing her toned, pale stomach, then upward inch by inch, the ribbed fabric stretched tightly over her full breasts as she pulled it higher before finally tugging it over her head, her long golden hair tumbling messily around her shoulders as she let it drop to the floor. 

Her simple black bra, as modest as it was, looked positively scandalous on Emma, struggling to contain her generous tits, pushing them firmly together to create a deep valley of cleavage nestled between two round swells. 

Daniel’s eyes were locked on her chest. 

“Good girl. Now the bra.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

Emma reached behind her back, releasing the clasp with practiced ease. She slid the straps down her arms one by one, letting the bra fall away, and her breasts spill free, bouncing softly as her arms returned to her sides, full and round and impossibly perfect, her pink nipples erect in the cool air. 

Daniel inadvertently let out a low whistle. They were better than he could have ever imagined. He couldn’t stop himself. He reached out, cupped their warm weight in both hands, lifted them, felt how heavy they were, squeezed them gently, watched the soft flesh swell out between his fingers. He ran his thumbs slowly across her nipples, circling them, then pinching lightly, teasing them until they grew even harder. All the while Emma remained perfectly still, letting him explore his newly conquered property. 

He pressed her breasts together, buried his face between them, and inhaled her scent before licking slowly up the valley of her cleavage, tasting the faint salt of her skin mixed with the drool that had already begun dripping down from her chin.  

Focus! 

Almost regrettably, he extracted his face from her luscious tits. God, he could’ve stayed there all afternoon. As much as he wanted to spend all day playing with her tits, motorboating her tits – and trust me, he really really wanted to – he had a job to do. Later, he promised himself. There will be plenty of time for fun later.  

He cleared his throat. “Jeans next.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

Emma unbuttoned her dark jeans and slid them down her long legs, bending at the waist as she worked them off one leg at a time then kicked them to the side, her bare breasts swaying with every movement. Daniel watched every second of it with rapt attention he seldom had in this classroom. 

“Panties too.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and slid the thong down her thighs, revealing her smooth, shaved pussy. A thin strand of her arousal stretched between the fabric and her slit before breaking. 

“Good girl.” 

Daniel scooped her panties and bra off the floor, folding them haphazardly before stuffing them into his backpack. A little souvenir. She wouldn’t miss them. 

He stepped back again, just looking at her now and took a deep breath. Wow. This was really happening. Emma, completely naked in the middle of her own office, her tall, hourglass figure on full display, long shapely legs slightly parted, a glistening trail of her own juices slowly running down the inside of one thigh, breasts rising and falling with each slow breath, golden hair framing her blank, drooling face.  

“Who owns your mind?” 

“You, Master.” 

"Who owns your body?" 

“You, Master.” 

“Good girl.” 

Daniel moved behind her, pressing his clothed body against her back. He reached around and cupped her breasts again, squeezing them from behind while his hard cock bulged against her ass through his pants. He rolled her nipples between his fingers, tugging gently, then harder. He groped her recklessly, hungrily, one hand finding its way down her stomach and between her legs to stroke her soaked pussy, spreading her wetness over her clit while his other hand continued playing with her tits, feeling her body yield to every touch even as her mind stayed completely empty. 

"You're already so wet for Master."  

“Yes, Master.” 

"Tell me why." 

"Because...obeying feels good," she said flatly. "Because I am Master's good girl." 

Daniel smiled. "That's right. My good girl."  

He pressed two fingers against her soaking entrance. Her eyelids fluttered; her mouth dumbly dropped open even more.  

“You are my perfect, mindless fuckdoll.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

“Tell me what you are.” 

“I am your perfect, mindless fuckdoll," Emma echoed. 

God she was so hot. Now he reallyyyyy wanted to spend all day playing with his new toy.  

Fuck it. He could afford one indulgence. 

“On your knees.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

Emma dropped gracefully to her knees in front of him, looking on with completely vacant eyes. 

Daniel freed his hard cock from his pants. It sprang out, thick and throbbing, already leaking precum. 

“Give me a titjob. Make me cum.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

Emma leaned forward and cupped her full, heavy breasts in both hands, pressing them around his cock, enveloping him in soft, warm flesh, moving them up and down in slow, steady strokes. 

The sensation that followed was simply divine. Emma’s tits perfectly wrapped around his shaft, every upward stroke made the head of his cock disappear completely into her deep cleavage before sliding back out again, slick with her drool, natural lubrication that made her tits glide smoothly along his length. 

Emma’s glassy blue eyes stared blankly ahead as she worked, her golden hair swaying with each stroke. She went slowly, methodically, sliding her soft tits up and down his entire cock, pressing them together extra tightly at the top, squeezing the head of his cock, relaxing slightly, letting his shaft settle deeper into the warm valley, before squeezing again. 

Daniel let out a low guttural noise, shifting his hips and fucking up into her cleavage with small shallow thrusts while she continued stroking. 

“Faster,” he ordered. 

As commanded, Emma sped up, sliding her drool-slick breasts up and down his cock with smoother, quicker strokes. Her tits bounced and jiggled constantly with every movement.   

Daniel leaned back against the desk, groaning with pleasure. He could hardly choose a sight to focus on – he settled on alternating between watching her breasts work and looking at her vacant expression — that beautifully empty, drooling face looking so perfectly mindless while she pleasured him. The knowledge that the brilliant, untouchable Emma was reduced to this devoted fuckdoll by his doing — naked on her knees, drooling all over herself, using her perfect tits to please him – made it even hotter. 

“Hold them tighter,” he commanded. 

“Yes, Master.” 

Emma squeezed her breasts even more firmly around his cock, creating a tight, plush tunnel. She slid them up and down faster now, focusing entirely on his pleasure. 

Daniel’s breathing grew ragged. He wanted to enjoy every second of his beautiful, blank doll working his cock with her tits, but he could feel himself getting closer, dangerously close. 

He held on as long as he could, but finally, the sight, the sensations, they were all too much. He could hold back no longer. 

“Hold still. Squeeze them tight,” he choked out, voice strained. 

“Yes, Master.” 

Emma pressed her breasts firmly together around his cock and stopped moving. 

He pulled out from her tits and grunted as thick, powerful ropes of cum erupted from his cock. 

The first shot landed across her left cheek and over the bridge of her nose. The second and third shots painted her full lips and chin, some of it landing directly on her tongue as her mouth hung open. Several more spurts landed directly onto her breasts, splattering across the soft pale flesh. 

When he finally finished, chest having, he glanced down to admire his work. 

Emma looked incredible. She was slumped back onto her heels, vacant gaze fixed on the cracked linoleum floor. Her once-pristine, professional face was now marked with his cum — thick white streaks dripping across her cheek, lips, and chin, her breasts covered in glistening splatters of semen that slowly ran down the curves of her tits. What a sight to behold. One he could have only fantasized about. 

Fuck. Look at her. This might actually be his best work yet. Dare he say, his magnum opus...so far. He smirked. Yeah. He was taking pictures. 

Daniel rummaged around the pants pooled around his ankles, pulling out his phone and took several pictures of beautiful, blank, cum-splattered Emma kneeling obediently before him, having just defiled herself at his say-so. 

He slipped the phone back into his pocket. 

“Clean yourself up. Use your hands and mouth. Swallow every drop.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

She scooped the thick cum from her breasts with her fingers, bringing it to her mouth and sucking it off slowly, thoroughly, swallowing it all down without hesitation, then wiped the cum from her face and chin, feeding it into her mouth as well and licking her fingers clean one by one. 

“Good girl.” 

He let her stay on her knees for a moment longer, taking in one last look. 

“Stand up.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

Emma rose gracefully to her feet, settling back into position, hands by side, feet together, waiting for his next command. 

Daniel smiled and gently wiped some remaining drool from her chin with his thumb. 

“Missed a spot.” He brought it to her lips, and she accepted it, sucking his thumb gently, automatically. 

Daniel ran his hands over her body one last time — squeezing her tits, sliding down her waist, cupping her ass. He leaned in and kissed her drooling mouth, tasting himself on her tongue. She didn’t move at all. He pulled back slightly.  

“Kiss me back.” 

“Yes, Master.” She kissed back mechanically, obediently, her soft plush lips smushing into his, tongues swirling together. He reluctantly broke away.  

“Get dressed.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

Emma bent down and picked up her black turtleneck. She pulled it over her head, her stiff nipples clearly standing up against the material. Next, she stepped into her jeans, pulling them up her long legs, the denim pressing directly against her bare, still-wet pussy. 

He stepped back into her sight and looked into her empty eyes. 

“From now on,” he said, “whenever I say ‘Empty Emma,’ you will instantly drop back into this blank, obedient state. My mindless doll ready to obey Master. The normal you will have no memory of any of this, of anything that happens, of anything that you do while you are my mindless doll. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Master,” she answered in a flat, empty voice. 

Daniel circled around Emma and grabbed her phone from her desk, returning in front of her and holding it up to her face. It unlocked with a soft click. He quickly typed in his contact, phone number, and address.  

“You will not question or even notice why my number is in your phone. You will not question why I am texting you or calling you. Seeing my name or my messages will feel completely normal, like it’s always been there.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

He paused, watching her blank face. 

“Whenever I text you, you will read my messages, become blank and obey any commands I give you, without hesitation. As soon as you have finished, you will return to whatever you were doing before and forget the text entirely. You will forget that you received it, forget what it said, and forget everything you did. You will never be aware that I am texting you, and you will never be aware that you are obeying.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

He let that settle for a moment. 

“You will find this completely normal. In fact, anything to do with me, or with what I tell you, you will find to be completely normal and nothing to worry about. When you leave this office, you will remember only that we had a normal discussion about the project. You gave helpful feedback. Nothing unusual happened. Nothing to worry about.” 

“Nothing to worry about,” Emma repeated. 

Daniel snapped his fingers.