(This story is inspired by Teaching Her A Lesson by Ice Bear/Svarbarding. It's strongly recommended you read it first! It's an absolute classic of the erotic mind control genre. Written with the original author's permission. All characters are over 18)
Four months ago.
"Whatever you've got planned, it's not gonna work on me, you pencil-dicked dweeb. My head's already been fucked up more than my puss, so whatever shit you try and put in there is just going to be piss in the ocean."
In all my life, I don't think I'd ever seen a face so smug as Abbie Stern's. She and her co-conspirators had all been taken down one by one. She'd already been dosed and found herself unable to go against me. She was the who sat herself in the chair and she hadn't moved while I'd restrained her. I had her completely at my mercy and could do anything I wanted to her.
And yet, she was looking at me like she wasn't just winning, but that the game had been rigged from the start. That kind of unwavering confidence was unnerving. In spite of myself, I looked out the door and saw that there wasn't anyone but Isa standing guard. No calvary was getting ready to rush in and take out the villain.
"Hah, forget pissing in the ocean. You look so scared you're about to piss your pants. Maybe an oldtimer like you ought to start thinking about getting some of those adult diapers?"
Right. No more wasting time.
"Open your mouth." She did as I asked, made a brief face of disgust, and then those features smoothed out. Blank like this, it was easier to appreciate her honestly adorable sex appeal, the kind of face that would get men to drop thousands of dollars on her if she just chatted to them on a livestream, with a body that would convince those same men to ruin their lives supporting her, no Serenex needed. Not that she didn't have it normally, only that new to her raw, aggressive spirit, that sex appeal came second. Normal Abbie had you scared and turned on at the same time.
Out came my smartphone, and I queued up the second of Canon's video recordings to play. I didn't know if hearing it come from the horse's mouth enhanced the effect, but when playing around with this stuff, the one thing I knew was that you wanted there to be zero ambiguity with the situation.
Right before I hit play on the smartphone, I had just one thing to say to her, "I didn't even need to use the Serenex to make you my fantasy slut. It's who you were deep down."
Not bad on its own, but even then, when two orders came into conflict, the older one had priority. That's why I needed this next part to play, as I sat the phone down and left the room.
"Abbie, I have one sexual fantasy greater than any other. That is to be thoroughly dominated by another man. See him steal my women from me. Being powerless to stop him. But it's not just that. My women love him. He's a bigger stud than I could ever be. They worship him like a God. And if I'm lucky, maybe once a month, one of those women checks in on me, let's me know just how much better he is. How much bigger his cock is. How he can please them in ways I never could dream of."
After leaving the phone in there, all that was left was to wait. I waited for the whole two hours. I'd thought that Abbie wouldn't take as long as Tabitha. She'd been dosed more than anyone else—this was her fifth dose, by my accounting—so I'd assumed she might have some tolerance to the drug by now.
But after two hours, I wasn't hearing a peep from her. The phone's battery was going to run out soon—note to self, next time leave it plugged into a charge—and who knew what kind of garbled nonsense it'd let out as it started dying. With no other choice, I went back inside.
Abbie was awake. The way her head snapped to look at me, her eyes going wide, gave me all the confirmation I needed. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I just... uh... Sorry. Still trying to take all this in. Wow. Wow!"
As many times as I'd heard students calling one another cucks, I hadn't expected the concept of cuckoldry to be the thing that finally broke someone's brain. I shut off the phone, started to release her from the chair. "Trying to take all of what in?"
"Well, like... ever since this whole thing started, I've always been wondering, ya know? Why the hell am I so lucky to be the fucktoy of a pussy like C-dawg? The guy is a pushover. Ungrateful. The biggest hypocrite I ever met, fucking your tits one second then scolding you for somehow forcing him to do it the next. He's got an okay cock, sure, but the man has a brainwashed harem and somehow thinks he's god's gift to women. It just didn't really make sense, but that's kind of how this stuff goes? You can't really question it, not much anyways. You just gotta go with it."
I put the handcuffs away on the desk, next to the phone. She was sounding a lot more lucid than I'd been expecting. Hold on... had the girl taken so much Serenex that her brain had short-circuited, reset back to normal?
I had fourteen inches and eighty pounds on her, but I still felt the cold sweat running down my back as I realized I was alone with her. "And now?"
She gave me the biggest, brightest smile I'd ever seen in my life. Her eyes were sparkling. "Now I get it! The reason I'm so lucky to be Canon's fucktoy... it's because that meant I'd be right here. He was one big tutorial level I've been practicing on, getting me ready for the real deal. Right now. I get to do this!"
And then she was struggling to get the black tee that had been hugging her chest so tightly off. She wasn't wearing a bra underneath, but that shirt was at least a few sizes too small and it was tugging her breasts up with it, the tension building up it came off all at once, those truly obscene tits of her bouncing up and down for my entertainment.
"I mean. You want this, right? Titjob, yeah? Every guy I've ever met has loved those more than anything, and I'm real good at using them. But yeah, you can fuck me too. I mean... fuck. Damn it. Sorry! I just can't wait to get started with this!"
My mouth was hanging slightly ajar as I got to savor the rarest of all sights in the cosmos.
Abbie Stern was at a loss for words. The Apex Predator had found out she was a house cat and coming face to face with a wolf for the first time in her life. For once, she was worried she didn't stack up.
I couldn't help it. I laughed. Sure, she was hot as hell, but deep down inside, Abbie Stern wasn't anything special.
Present Day
Abbie Stern is really something special.
I'd known Tabitha was smart, great at learning and learning to learn, perfect for the role I'd put her in and excelling at it beyond my expectations. All of that had been obvious from the outset.
But Abbie, thinking of herself as some kind of ultimate fantasy slut, like sex was a sport, and she was Michael Jordan. I'd chalked all of that up to ego. She was crass, impulsive, sarcastic, and I'd assumed her sexual expertise began and ended at "Show him my tits," with her Hail Mary play being the "Let him touch my tits."
And fair enough, for 99.99% of heterosexual men on the planet, that probably would have been more than enough. But it scared me how good Abbie was at this. I had restricted myself to only letting her give me one fantasy a week because I was afraid of what might happen to me if I had too much of a good thing. Probably a heart attack.
And today was that day.
Like a Saturday Night Live showrunner, Abbie had spent the whole week getting everything ready for me. The diversion with Tabitha was almost entirely so I would be able to last a bit longer for whatever she had in store.
This week, we were in the theater classroom. At first, Abbie had wanted to try things on the actual theater stage the school had for school assemblies and plays, but it had been less than successful. Stiletto heels made an ungodly amount of noise on those hollow floors, the acoustics had girls saying their dirty talk so loud and stilted I'd been unable to get it up after cumming only twice, and most importantly, there was a bit of a chill in the room that I didn't prefer.
The classroom was a much better fit. Mostly empty with a small stage that could be repurposed week by week, plenty of comfortable couches and enough size to give herself enough of an audience—what can I say? I liked it when they watched—and all the media tools she needed to give the performance of a lifetime when only one man mattered to the entire cast and crew.
Some things were worth risking a heart attack for.
A girl was waiting for me outside the door, holding a stack of papers stapled together. Like all of Abbie's auxiliary crew—of the twenty girls she was allotted each week to do with as she pleased, those who were in support roles—she was wearing a dog collar with a plastic laminated name tag dangling off of it. The girl was cute. 5'6 or so with wavey brunette hair and dark eyes, the body of an athlete but with the softness of a teenager. But it took more than an adorable girl-next-door aesthetic to make it into one of Abbie's productions.
"Thank you... Cynthia. What's this?" I said as she handed over the papers.