"It... it didn't go well," I admit, my voice small and defeated.
"Poor puppy girl," he says, mockingly. "And your precious emails? Did you send those?"
I nod. I can't even bring myself to speak right now. What good are words, when they no longer serve or advance my interests?
"Good. Now get that out of your head. All of it. Your old life, your old identity, your old relationships. They're gone now. They don't matter anymore. You need to focus on stuff that suits your female psyche better, like... this," Brad says, nodding towards a bundle of clothing on the sofa's armrest. "That's what you'll be wearing from now on."
Oh, of course.
A maid's uniform.
***
I look into his eyes.
My mind bends over itself and unfolds before him like a blooming flower. My body betrays me, arching back against his right hand. The left keeps me pinned down against the mattress, a prey item in the clutches of her predator, subdued and subjugated.
My body is alight with need as he strokes my sex, smirking at the growing wetness.
"Let your body show you the way," he says. "This is what being a woman is all about."
He slips one finger inside me, then another, all the while pouring honeyed, hypnotic murmurs into my ears that make my breath hitch in my throat. His thumb teases my clit, making me whimper. I'm not supposed to like this, I remind myself, I'm not supposed to...
I try to suppress the moan that bubbles up from my throat but I fail, the sound only causing him to chuckle lowly. "That's the sort of sound I expect to hear more and more out of you. Fits you so much better than all that debate nonsense."
He continues his ministrations, his fingertips dancing teasingly over my clit before plunging deeply inside me. The surprise of it has me gasping.
"That's right," he says, watching my face intently as his fingers twist and curl inside me. "Feel how easily you take me? How perfectly evolution has sculpted your body for this? Now all that's left is for your mind to..."
Let my body show me the way. I know, the mantra is taking root, I can feel it in my brain, growing and crowding out the rest, all those silly thoughts about independence. As a woman, I should feel, first and foremost. I'm a creature of emotion, not intellect. My nervous system is only truly alive when it experiences me being fucked like a slut.
"Look at me. I want to see your face as I ruin you."
I'm shamelessly pushing back onto his fingers, now, and his words feel just as good. Pleasure radiates through my body, a sheen of sweat covers me, my thigh muscles are rippling...
"You're nothing but a fucktoy, a living, breathing piece of meat for my amusement," he says, and I mewl in agreement.
My friends may have deserted me, but his hands have got me. I am nothing but clay, completely malleable and compliant under his possessive grip. My entire being is centered around the pleasure he is giving me, and the promise of what is yet to come.
"You don't just belong to me. You exist for me. Let your body show you the way."
He curls his fingers, stroking that sensitive spot inside me, and a broken moan escapes my lips. I can feel my inner walls starting to spasm, that coil of heat winding tighter and tighter in my belly--
His fingers retreat. I gasp at the loss, my cunt clenching on empty air, my hands flailing ineffectually in his direction.
He laughs in my face. It feels so stinging and yet so proper, his scorn. His male mockery of my female weakness.
"Did you think I'd let you come so easily?" He shakes his head, wiping his fingers on my thigh. "Not a chance, pet. Your cunt is the fastest way to your brain. The most potent weapon in your conditioning."
I bite my lip to stifle a needy whimper, my face feeling like it's on fire. I would do anything to tip over the edge now. Anything at all...
Finally, Brad stops playing with me. No more foreplay, no more kissing, no more teasing. He's done laying the groundwork, preparing me for transformation. He's ready to take what's his.
Brad's strong hands grip my hips as he positions himself between my thighs. I'm panting with need, my body aching for his touch, for the feel of him inside me. He teases my cunt with the tip of his cock and I whimper pathetically, trying to push back against him, to take him deeper.
"Beg for it," he says, his voice low and commanding. "Beg me to fuck you like the submissive little slut you are."
"Please," I gasp out, my pride crumbling under the weight of my desperate arousal. "Please fuck me, Master. I need you inside me. I need to feel you claim me, own me..."
A satisfied smirk crosses his face at my pleas. Without warning, he thrusts forward, impaling me on his cock in one ruthless stroke. I cry out at the sudden intrusion, my back arching off the bed as he fills me completely. He sets a punishing pace, pinning my wrists above my head.
"That's it, take my cock like a good stupid girl," he grunts, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside me with each powerful thrust. "Your cunt was made for this, made to be used by your male master."
I can only moan incoherently in response, my mind going blank with pleasure as he fucks me into the mattress. I'm drowning in sensation, my world narrowed down to the feeling of his cock battering me into submission, claiming me, branding me as his property. I can feel myself surrendering more with each passing second, my body melting into his, accepting his mastery.
I'm panting and writhing beneath him, completely at his mercy as he plays my body like a fiddle. He knows just how to regulate my pleasure, keeping me balanced on a knife's edge, desperate and aching but never letting me tumble over.
Is it just technique, or hypnosis? Has he altered me to be sensitive and responsive to penetration? Either way, it's maddening, it's exquisite torture, and I can't get enough.
Time loses all meaning as he works me over, alternating between brutally pounding my pussy and slow, sensual grinding. Obscene wet sounds fill the room, punctuated by my needy whimpers and his low grunts of pleasure. He occasionally reaches around to rub tight circles on my clit and I see stars, my eyes rolling back as I teeter on the brink of what promises to be a mind-shattering climax.
It's during one such maddening peak that my new master starts talking again.
"Let me read you something." His voice is low, deceptively calm, and yet my muscles immediately clench. I'm not sure why that's making me tense up, but it is.
He reaches for his phone, holding it in one hand and scrolling through its contents. Meanwhile, his other hand holds my hips in place, unhurriedly and distractedly fucking me.
"Here it is," he says at last, his voice casual. "When I asked if you'd sent those emails, I wasn't being entirely forthcoming. I've programmed you to CC me in every mail you send, and well, I'll hand it to you, slut: you write some very interesting emails. Honestly, you're so much more articulate when you're being your true self."
Only two words cycle through my mind at that. They're on repeat, like an endless loop of question and answer.
What? And, No.
My heart is pounding, my eyes are going wide, my breath is ragged - and no longer because I'm being fucked.
Brad clears his throat and begins to read aloud.
"Dear professor Lorenz, I afford you this honorific even though it's fundamentally misplaced on a woman. No member of the weaker sex is capable of teaching others, except maybe how to best suck cock to completion."
My heart stops. No... no, that can't be what I wrote. That's impossible.
Brad continues, relentless. "In truth, I have always secretly yearned to be put in my place, to be shown the folly of my feminist delusions. Standing on that stage, finally voicing my true feelings... it was a revelation. A weight lifted from my shoulders as I admitted to myself, and the world, what I really am: a submissive female desperate to serve the patriarchy. I can only hope you experience the same revelation some day. Please, let me know if you do."
This can't be happening. It has to be a trick, a cruel joke. I would never write such an email, I would never...
I would never argue for the global enthrallment of all women in a public, competitive debate. And yet I have. So why not this? Why not, when my words are manifestly no longer my own?
Brad pauses, his eyes flicking up to meet mine, drinking in my horrified expression. "There's more," he says with a wicked grin. "Shall I continue?"
"No, please..." I whimper, and I hate how weak and small and impotent I sound, so defeated. So feminine.
He promptly ignores my plea.
"Ah, here we go. Your message to the feminist collective. Let's see what pearls of wisdom you had for them, shall we?"
I squirm beneath him, my face burning with humiliation as he begins to read aloud once more.
"To the wanton, rape-baiting sluts in the feminist collective," he begins, and I nearly lose it. I can hear myself hyperventilating, I'm shaking my head as if that could somehow undo what I've done, what his power has made me do.
"Feminism has caused immeasurable harm. You're all a bunch of delusional cunts who need a good hard dicking to set you straight. We don't need feminism. We need the firm hand of male discipline, the unyielding hardness of the patriarchy to put us in our place. We need to be fucked into submission, bred and broken until all thoughts of resistance are fucked right out of our silly little heads.
So I implore you, abandon this farce. Embrace your true calling as cock sleeves and cum dumpsters. Get on your knees and beg for the privilege of choking on dick and being pumped full of cum. It's what you were made for. It's all you're good for."
I'm shaking my head frantically, still unable to process the enormity of what I've done. The unmitigated viciousness and cruelty of the words, the utter betrayal and destruction of everything I've ever believed in.
Tears are streaming down my face. I'm making no move to wrest the phone from him, to shout at him, to curse him, I'm just passively absorbing the horror of the destruction of my life. Most humiliating of all, I'm doing so with my cunt still warmly holstering his cock.
"Please... please tell me that's not real," I choke out between gasping breaths. "I couldn't have... I would never..."
"Oh but you did," he says, his hips still lazily rocking into me. "I'm so proud. Though I haven't even gotten to your true masterpiece yet..."
I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself as he theatrically clears his throat.
"Dear Mount Hurst College Staff and Administration, I am writing to you today not to apologize, but to double down on the important truths I expressed during the recent debate. As a woman, I now realize that my attempts to engage in intellectual discourse were misguided and inappropriate. The female mind is simply not equipped for logic, reason, or complex thought. We are creatures of emotion and base instinct, and our true purpose is to serve and please men."
I let out a choked sob. Oh god, it's even worse than I feared.
He continues, clearly relishing my dismay. "During the debate, I referred to myself as a 'dumb cunt' and a 'silly bimbo' who should have her rights taken away. I spoke the truth. Women like me need to be put in our place, to be controlled and subjugated by superior men for our own good. Feminism is a disease, a blight on society that has led women astray from our natural submissive role."
The room is spinning, closing in on me.
"As a gender, we have proven ourselves unfit for autonomy or self-determination. Our greatest aspiration should be complete surrender to the superior sex. Only by embracing our role as the submissive, the subordinate, the subaltern, can we find true fulfillment and purpose. Feminism has poisoned our minds with delusions of equality, but the truth is self-evident: women are inferior in every way that matters."
I thought I understood how thoroughly he has conquered and broken me. What an idiot I've been. Stupid, stupid girl.
"Henceforth, my silly girl-brain shall be filled only with thoughts of servicing cock and birthing babies. I vow to become a champion of male supremacy, dedicating myself to tearing down the myth of gender equality and female empowerment. Women like me, with our irrational emotions and inferior intellects, need the firm hand of male authority to guide us. We are nothing more than life support systems for cunts and wombs."
My cunt is clenching around his cock. It's like my body is betraying me, siding with him.
"On reflection, it's you who should apologize for ever allowing me to enrol, as I am clearly unfit for higher education. My feeble female brain is better suited to domestic servitude and sexually satisfying men. I'll withdraw from all my classes at the first opportunity, as they are a waste of time and resources better spent on more deserving male students. The only studying I will be doing from now on is learning how to be a better cock sleeve for real men."
I feel something shatter inside me, some integral part of my identity and sense of self. It's like watching a car crash in slow motion, witnessing the total annihilation of everything I am, everything I've worked for.
"From this day forward, I renounce all claims to dignity, agency, and personhood. I am a woman, nothing more than a mindless set of holes for men to use as they see fit. The only rights I deserve are the right to be fucked, bred, and kept in my place. The only thoughts I am fit to think are those that please and serve my male masters."
The email's closing words are the final nail in the coffin of my identity. "In conclusion, I am not apologizing for my statements. There's only one thing I genuinely do have to apologize for, and I direct this apology to you from the bottom of my soul, hoping that you'll find it in your heart to forgive me..."
Brad's eyes briefly meet mine as he pauses for anticipation.
"... I'm sorry for being a woman. "
With that, Brad tosses the phone aside and grins down at me triumphantly. "There. It's done. Your past life is officially over. All your bridges are burned."
I stare up at him in stunned, devastated silence. My future, my friendships, my identity - all callously destroyed with a few taps on a screen. The woman I was is gone, replaced by this mewling, cock-hungry slut pinned under her smirking conqueror.
"Why?" I manage to ask between gasping breaths. "Why are you doing this to me?"
Brad just smiles down at me, a cold, cruel twist of his lips. "Because I can," he says simply. "Do I really need a better reason?"
No, he doesn't. He has me, and his power over me is completely self-evident. It requires no justification.
"No more college for you," he says, "no more lofty debates or intellectual pretensions. From now on, the only education you'll be getting is in how to worship cock and be a proper little fuckpet." He punctuates his words with sharp thrusts of his hips, driving into my conquered cunt. "You're exactly where you belong now - on your back, legs spread, servicing your male master like the mindless bimbo you are."
He picks up the pace then, fucking me with renewed energy, but what's making my mind reel is the sheer totality of my defeat. It takes my breath away.
In a matter of mere days, he's systematically taken away every single pillar that supported my old life. What does that make him, if not literally my conqueror?
I push back against him, silently begging from more. More degradation, more humiliation, more of his cock taming my treacherous body. I'm so far gone, so thoroughly broken. If my fate is to unravel, let it at least feel good. That's all I ask. Please please pretty please.
His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back to face him. His eyes bore into mine, while his other fingers rub tight circles around my clit, making my eyes flutter. "You're going to cum from your ruin now, cunt. You're going to thank me for ruining your life."
It's too much, this final defilement, this cruel unmaking of everything I was. The orgasm that's been building in me crests at his command, hitting me like a ton of bricks.
I let out a wail of mindless erotic defeat, as my master's thrusts and touch and words push me over the edge into a shattering, ruinous orgasm. My body convulses around him, inner muscles clamping down as wave after wave of perverse ecstasy crashes through me. It feels like I'm coming apart at the seams, unraveling from the inside out as pleasure and anguish twine together inextricably.
"That's it, cum for me like the defeated little fucktoy you are," Brad growls, his hips pistoning savagely as he chases his own release. "Cum from the knowledge that you're nothing now, just a pathetic set of holes for me to use. Your old life is gone, slut. I'm all you have left."
The future I planned for myself is no more. All that's left is this, my body bucking and writhing as it unravels orgasmically around my master's cock.
For a second time, I feel something break inside me, some integral part of my psyche being erotically excised. The throaty moan that tears from my lips is equal parts rapture and anguish, the fading wail of the woman I once was...
Before my words were taken away, and replaced with the sounds of a humbled sexual animal.