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.

To Be Continued…