Women's Studies Pt. 01

Women's Studies

Part 1: Chapter 1: Maggie loses control

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters appearing in erotic scenes as 18+.

This is Part 1 of a multi-part series (and was preceded by a part 0). If you enjoyed this story (or didn't), I'd appreciate constructive feedback. I'm also looking for a good editor or two. If you like this material and want to help make it better, please contact me through my profile page.

Story-Codes: mc nc M/f slow humiliation revenge exhibition misogyny

Explanation of Story-Codes: This chapter contains: nonconsensual mind control (mc); sex between a dominant man and a submissive or controlled woman (M/f); nonconsensual sex (i.e., rape); humiliation; revenge; exhibition, and misogyny. This story is also slow (i.e., long segments of bad fiction writing get in the way of raw sex scenes). Also, for your enjoyment, I've inserted an few typos and grammatical error.

Series Synopsis: Maggie falls under the control of her ex-husband, David, who humiliates her by manipulating her to transform from feminist activist to subservient, make-up-wearing sex worker.

Chapter Synopsis: David takes control of Maggie and coerces her to transform herself from a feminist, Women's Studies professor into a porn star. In fact, she jumps right in to that field of achievement.

*****

Chapter 1: Maggie loses control

"Thank you so much for meeting me here!" David said to his ex-wife, Maggie. "I got you a decaf skim milk no sugar." he said with his warmest smile (he'd practiced it with his new wife).

"I'm vegan now. I think it's the only ethical choice, given what we now know about the farm industry," she said coldly.

"Oh yes. Of course," David couldn't help but hide his disappointment. "Well, let me get you a replacement. Soy milk or black?"

"I prefer soy milk, but really that's not necessary. I can get my own coffee. I'm not actually here for coffee. I'm eager to hear what you have to say. Your email said that you'd had an epiphany?"

David smiled broadly. He felt like laughing. Maggie was a Ph.D. and a tenured faculty member like himself, although whereas he was a full professor and fancied himself a behavioral scientist, she was an associate professor of Women's Studies. Her research explored the covert role that pornography plays in supporting male power structures. In other words, her so-called research was complete and utter bullshit.

She also had a secondary line of research on the experience of women engineers because the NSF would totally fund that shit. Even though her main research was essentially anti-porn (after all, even the most feminist, sex-positive porn supports male power structures) it was hard to get funding for that research. She had to make do with small local grants that she wheedled from guilty male administrators who didn't want to tell her what they really thought about either porn or Women's Studies.

And she was a complete, man-hating bitch. He'd thought he was in love with her once and they'd been married for about six months when she found a porn URL in his browser history and that was that. He tried to tell her that it was a mistake [which it was, because he was good at hiding his porn URLs], but she wouldn't listen to a word. She kept screaming about betrayal and "the patriarchy." She'd thrown him out of his house and divorced him immediately.

He was really looking forward to seeing this man-hating bitch degraded and humiliated. He smiled broadly.

"I have!" David said excitedly. "But let me get you your coffee first!" and he bounced up to order it and then he fumbled a bit putting the top on the cup.

"They didn't stir it very well," he grumbled when he sat down and gave the coffee to her.

"Thanks," she said coolly. "So, I'd like to hear about your 'epiphany'?" She wore a look like she was speaking to Satan. Probably, David reflected, she was.

"Oh, well," he began. "I wanted to share this with you because I realized just how wrong I've been all my life..." he began the speech he'd written and rehearsed last night. To the best of his abilities it hit all the right points — male privilege, white privilege, white male privilege, his own contributions to the patriarchy, ways he'd oppressed her and other women, how her comments and complaints had been spot on, things he should have done if he really believed in gender quality, abuses in which he was complicit because he stood idly by, how he saw now that their divorce a year ago had been entirely his fault — basically, it agreed with her worldview in every possible way.

His speech could have been summarized as "You were absolutely right and I was absolutely wrong" but David didn't summarize. He went into great detail about his supposed transgressions, especially as they related to her. He kept talking for well over ten minutes and, as expected, she ate it all up. She didn't interrupt him once (which must surely have been a record) and she hung on every word. His speech was the kind of vindication that would make her toes curl. As he spoke, she wished she was recording him so she could replay it over and over. In fact, as he went on, his words took on a hypnotic quality and she felt that she was slipping into something like a happy daydream.

David recognized the signs and switched gears. It had hurt a bit to deliver that bullshit, but his suggestions would work best if she were cooperative and his speech was tailored to win her over to "his side" and he was confident that he'd been successful.

Speaking quickly and quietly, he implanted the suggestions he'd planned. Yes, he thought "her plan" to get more hands-on about sex-work and porn was a great idea. Her idea to completely "walk a mile" in the fuck-me heels of a porn starlet made perfect sense and was academically brilliant. He was so proud of her courage. He didn't know much about make-up and pedicures, but he'd just gotten married to a very stereotypically feminine woman and of course he would help her in any way that he could. Yes, "her" idea about going into the bathroom and giving him a blowjob was a good idea. She should start experiencing the sex-worker lifestyle as soon as possible. Yes, later that day they'd do some photo shoots so she could start putting her name and likeness out there.

He produced a handful of cheap bound lab journals and "reminded" her that she'd bought them to record her experiences. He showed her some printed pages and had her copy them into the first journal.

There were three entries. The first entry was from a couple weeks ago on New Year's day. In it, she expressed her reasons for doing this "project." She wanted to learn first-hand exactly what it was like to be a sex-worker and pornstar. Yes, it would involve discomfort but she'd be able to document that discomfort and perhaps help some women avoid some of that discomfort. Yes, she would suffer embarrassment, but every life had some embarrassment and this was for a great cause about which she cared passionately. Yes, it would be humiliating to have sex for money, but that's what millions of women experience daily and Maggie would be able to handle it the same way they did and, further, cast sunlight on the circumstances that drove women to such desperate measures. Yes, she'd have to suppress her feminist feelings and that was hard but it was definitely for a greater good. The more she'd thought about it, the more she was sure this would be worthwhile.

The way DTB worked, she'd clearly recall writing the journal entries, but her memory would "file" these memories into her long term memory in a way that conformed to David's suggestions if he did things correctly. At least that was what David's research on the drug had suggested. For example, she she'd recall writing the first entry on January 1 if David made the right suggestions.

"Good job," David smiled at her. "Now what was the date on that entry?"

"New Year's day," Maggie replied.

"Sure, and what did you do for lunch that day?"

"I don't recall. I think I was working on a grant application and I ate a peanut butter sandwich at my desk."

"Right! Now that you mention it, I recall you saying that this plan came to you as you wrote a grant applicant on New year's day. That's what inspired you to do this project, and you got out a fresh journal and wrote this entry right before lunch. Then you made yourself a peanut butter sandwich and got back to the grant writing. Do you remember that?"

"I do..."

David was very pleased that this was working so well. He indicated that she should transcribe the second entry, which was long and detailed. It was dated last week and laid out her plan. She would experience all aspects of the slut/sex-worker lifestyle. Basically, she would think about everything in terms of how a feminist would think, then do the opposite. And she would steer into humiliating and painful experiences, instead of trying to avoid them. She would go full-pornstar-mode. She would change the way she looked and dressed to be more "slutty." She would learn to style her hair, wear makeup, paint her nails. She would learn to look "cute" and "girlie." She would work hard on being pleasing to men. She would try to appear as young as possible. She would submit to stereotypically sexist treatments like manicures and pedicures.

It wasn't her style to depilate. Until now, she preferred to be "natural." So, of course, she'd do the opposite and remove all the hair on her body below the eyebrows. She'd researched it and shaving was very temporary. Waxing was only slightly less temporary and it was painful. Plus, both methods caused potentially serious side-effects like ingrown hairs that could turn into painful ulcers. As a result, she'd decided to pay to have her body hair lasered off. The laser was more or less permanent. Only about 20% of the hair treated would die immediately, so she'd need several treatments, and some new hair might eventually grow and require touch-up's, but it was just one of many sacrifices that women went through to conform to male expectations and she'd conform along with the other women. She regretted that it was permanent, but it was better than the alternative, shaving and waxing. She was actually a little embarrassed about her privilege to be able to take care of it with just a few easy laser treatments.

David was surprised how long it was taking her to transcribe the second entry. It wouldn't do for him to urge her to write faster (she should remember writing this, but not that David was present), so he smiled and pushed her coffee closer to encourage her to drink more coffee and ingest more of the drug. She took the suggestion subconsciously and drank more coffee and continued transcribing.

The second entry continued: she debated about piercing and tattoos. On the one hand, these had long since ceased being counter-culture elements; it seemed like every young woman had a tattoo and several piercings. On the other hand, the incidence of body modifications among pornstars was very high (about 85% according to one recent study) and this suggested that she should invest in some ink and piercings. In the end, she'd decided to get some piercings and two small tattoos.

As far as experiences go, she felt that it was important, for her research, that she do it all: She would start dressing more provocatively. She would try to use her "feminine wiles" to try to exploit men, ideally earning her living this way. In fact, if all went well, she'd donate her salary to a good cause, like NOW, and live on the proceeds of her sex trade work. She would pose nude for pictures. She would take semi-nude and nude selfies. She would do exotic dancing. She would do some webcam modeling — including some vanilla camming and some kinkier stuff like bondage and fetishes. Of course, she would do some porn. She also made a cryptic reference to "other common behavioral paradigms confronting women in the sex trade" and David "reminded" her that that was her way of saying that she'd do illegal things like prostitution.

The end of this long entry investigated the ethics of this experiment. She resolved that she would not be deceptive about her new lifestyle. She would be transparent about herself and the lifestyle. She would literally become a slut and she wouldn't hide it. Yes, she would be participating in the patriarchy, and yes, she would be abandoning many women — particularly her own family and friends (her sister would probably rejoice, but her mother was going to kill her) but that's a part of the lifestyle and part of the trade-off necessary to conduct this experiment. She was certain that it would be worth it. She closed by speculating about the articles she could write: exposes of the sex trade, authoritative first-hand accounts of ethical issues in gender relations, etc.

David suggested that she'd thought about this stuff all week long after New Year's and finally organized her thoughts and wrote it down late at night. She agreed that that was what happened.

The third entry was brief and was dated from yesterday evening. In the entry, she said that she was going to meet her ex-husband David for coffee and that she had decided to attempt to enlist his assistance. For example, to get his input on what men wanted and to assist her in becoming a slut. Her entry noted her resolve to totally humiliate herself. It would be humiliating to be naked in front of him again, so she would try to steer things to that humiliating end — she would jump into the lifestyle by seducing him. David helpfully "reminded" her that she'd decided to give him a blowjob in the family bathroom there at the coffee shop.

After she'd copied the last entry, David "reminded" her again how it had been composed after she read his email and knew that she was meeting him here. He took the printed pages and put them in his pocket. As she was still out of it, he used the time to have her talk about her recent life. Her work was going well but she was becoming afraid that she wouldn't leave a mark on her field. 'Jesus! I couldn't ask for a better opening!' David thought to himself and "reminded" her that this project was her magnum opus that would make her a "star" in the field.

Maggie then started talking about her family and her issues and concerns. Her parents were getting older and as they aged her mom seemed to get more ornery and her father more detached. Their dynamic bothered Maggie; she wished they were more equal partners. She was also worried about her sister, Sarah, who was having trouble with her husband, Kirk, who drank too much and was very controlling and very rigid in his views, some of which were repugnant — like his views about women, for example. He was a devote Catholic and followed Saint Paul's view that women should be subservient to men... second-class citizens whose role was to support men. David listened quietly to her concerns, offering only acknowledgments of the of her concerns and affirmations of her fears.

As she showed signs of coming out of it, he asked her if he could read her journal entries. They discussed the experiment, the ethics, the potential journal articles. David told her again how brave and creative she was. He wondered if there was a way to turn this into a Nobel prize — maybe if she wrote about the economic aspects? — because this was genius-level material. He asked her how her friends and family would react and was encouraging and supportive when she expressed how she expected to be ostracized.

"Well, this has been great!" David said with a smile. "But I need to be going."

"Oh. Um. Well. Ah—" her fair face turned bloody red. She leaned over and very quietly whispered, "I wanted to— Um— Can I please give you a blowjob in the bathroom?"

David never acted professionally but he'd been in many community productions. His face wore just the right mixture of surprise, disgust and desire.

"Lead the way!" And so she did, walking to the family bathroom, red-faced and unable to look anywhere but the floor. David slipped in after her and she was simultaneously freaked out and relieved when he locked the door behind them.

"I-I've never done this before," she said with her eyes downcast. "Can you coach me through it?"

"Of course: Say 'I have a surprise for you!" and then do a sexy striptease." Her eyes grew wide with shock and her face wore a look of dismay, but David simply stared down at her, waiting.

"I-I have a s-surprised for you, David!" she said in the least convincing slut voice ever. But she smiled at him and then she started swaying back and forth, running her hands over her breasts and stomach and hips. Her face was red with embarrassment, but she slowly removed her sweater. Then she started unbuttoning her blouse. Before she could take it off, David said "Pants, shoes and socks first." so she swayed a bit more and then slipped her ugly Birkenstocks off. She made a show of rolling her socks down but as her bare feet touched the dirty bathroom floor, all she could think about was how much fungus and urine she was touching. But she forced herself to focus and then she unfastened her jeans and lowered the zipper.

As she went to push down on the waistband, David said "Uh-uh-uh! Dance like that for a moment or two with your hands over your head. Rub your body against me. Say things like 'This isn't the surprise... Wait until I get naked.' and 'You're so handsome.' and 'I'm going to let you feel my panties because you're making me sooo wet.'"

Maggie turned two shades darker red but she did as she was told. She rubbed her crotch against his and said, 'You're going to love your surprise." David was grinning like a college kid and he took out his cell phone and started taking pictures. She was mortified but she tried to smile pretty for the camera.

"Turn around and show me your ass while you slowly pull those pants down. You can kind of accidentally lower your panties and flash me, but then you should pull them back up. Your panties will be next, after you've gotten you pants all the way off and have danced for me some more." Maggie did as he told her.

"That's very good. Look over your shoulder and smile at me. Smile like I'm a box of chocolate." Maggie pushed down hard on her first instinct and instead tried to smile.

"You're so handsome, David. I really like dancing for you, but I'm really looking forward to giving you your surprise."

He had her rub her ass on his crotch as she slowly removed her panties. Then he had her remove her blouse and bra, all while facing away from him (although he could see her body in the mirror). Then he had her put the blouse back on and tease him some more with her hands and the blouse. Finally, the big finale where she danced naked. Her pubic bush was thick and dense. David had forgotten how big her bush was. It was not a pleasant sight for a man who liked oral sex. He preferred the waxed look. He knew exactly how Maggie would have seen it, like he was a pedophile. But the truth as that it was exactly like armpit hair, unpleasant, and best removed. 'Well,' David thought to himself. 'It'll be gone soon and good riddance!'

"I looove being naked for you, Baby!" she cooed.

"Daddy," David corrected. "Say: I love being naked for you, Daddy."

Maggie's stomach knotted and her vagina wanted to strangle David, but she swallowed her pride and smiled and said "I looove being naked for you, Daddy! ... Time for your surprise, Daddy" She looked down at the floor.

"Do I have to kneel?" she asked hopefully.