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?”

The End.