Teaching Her a Lesson Pt. 27

Though we rendered him completely helpless, we didn't do much to him. Like I said, I really was vibing the whole transcendentalism thing, and it wouldn't be fun if I just made him trade his old template for a new one of my design. Instead, we gave him a little nudge towards what he so obviously wanted. "Don't be a p*ssy." It turned out his idea of being a p*ssy was pretty different from mine, but it would hopefully keep him going in the right direction. We weren't sure how he would react, though. He's not the not-a-pussy type to hulk out and try to kill us for dosing him or anything, but since he'd already drugged us once, I didn't want this new, liberated fellow turning me into a bondage slave or something freaky like that. So we let him think that Abbie had dosed the both of us and I gave myself hand cramps writing up some fake notes with fake commands. They said that Abbie was my boss, and that he could do whatever he wanted to me. I hoped it would give him the freedom to keep pursuing me, plus, if he got pissed off about anything, he would just blame Abbie. She was the "boss," after all. God knows she didn't mind pretending to push me around in front of him, but I kept her in line in private. Usually.

I wonder what Emerson would have said about all the wild stuff that followed during this past month. On the one hand, my teacher and I, and in a lot of ways Abbie, were more free than we had ever been. We had amazing sex, got to share real intimacy like I never knew I wanted. On the other hand, we also sort of took a bunch of other women and turned them into sex slaves. It would be fair to blame a lot of that on Abbie, since I'd accidentally given her those screwed up ideas about how hot girls ought to be the guy's "fantasy sluts" (although if I never hear those words again, it will be too soon). Still, I was the one who didn't stop her from lashing out. It ate at me at first, because unlike with my teacher/lover, we really did force them into some behaviors they never would have done otherwise. Except as time passed, I saw that even that, having these other women join this guy's harem, actually brought them closer to freedom.

My middle school PE teacher Mr. Baird told us during sex ed, "sex is a good thing, and I recommend you all try it sometime." He admittedly did then go on to encourage us to wait for a very long time and find the right person, but to a middle schooler, it was an eye-opening admission that this scary Just Say No wasn't a trick to make girls pregnant and give everyone AIDS. I was weirded out at the time, but in hindsight, I'm grateful. Sex is great. It's one of my favorite things. I don't believe in god, but the closest I've ever come to a religious experience has been sharing an orgasm with another person. I had somegoooood orgasms with my teacher. I honestly think these other women, pulled into this by circumstance and random chance (good or bad luck I can't say) moved closer to self reliance.

Take for example, this one student. We'll call her "Casie." You couldn't find a better example of a conformist than Casie. I'd bet that before we dosed her, in her whole life she had never thought about what she wanted for herself. Everything she did was because her mom said so, her teacher said so, her coach said so, society said so. Suddenly, someone green lit her for sex - for dirty, not-supposed-to, illegal teacher sex! - and she camealive. Cassie discovered her real passion. She shed her inhibitions. She probably even fell in love somewhere along the way. The drug took away her freedom to keep living as a prisoner.

Whatever Casie and the others lost, they made up for it in new perspective and a liberation from the template they'd been pushed to conform to. When I saw the life and purpose it had given them, even when it wasn't what I personally wanted for their contribution to our cause (maybeespecially because of that), it told me that I was doing something good. In the spirit of Emerson, I persisted: "Let us affront and reprimand the smooth mediocrity and squalid contentment of the times."

Admittedly, I was a bit less charitable in one case. This one girl, I went all out. At first I thought it would be nice to have someone to give out blowjobs in my place (not exactly my thing, and I couldn't exactly tell the guy that no, I don't really have to let you do whatever you want to me, without spoiling the whole thing). Once I had this chick drugged up, Abbie actually had to reel me back in after a point. I took this intelligent, proud, passably attractive and conventionally "promising" young woman, and I re-pinned her entire sense of self-worth on her ability to satisfy her teacher. I made her his b*itch, and my b*tch too.

(In my defense, maybe the c*nt should have thought twice before she told me I was going to die a virgin.)

She hated me for it. I know that. Still, gun to her head (by which I really mean I told her to be honest with me and she had no choice but to confess because once again, she's my b*tch), she'sloving it. She'd never rebelled against an authority figure in her whole stupid pre-planned life. She'd never let herself chase her own pleasure, never realized what turns her on or gets her excited, never taken herself off the defensive and been vulnerable, or really worried herself over someone else's happiness. If I'd left her alone, she would have turned into another boring money-grubbing corporate parasite, just like her rich pr*ck daddy. Who knows, maybe now she'll actually start re-examining her goals. We'll see.

It sure went over well with her teacher. It was naïve to think he would share my philosophical outlook, I know that. After all, he was suddenly drowning in more p*ssy than he knew what to do with, and I suppose it must have been distracting. Besides, real people - real self reliant people - are problematic. We're unpredictable, volatile. The call of the wild doesn't cry out to everyone, just as I didn't read that stupid book when we were assigned it. Though he assigned us to readThe Road Not Taken, just like every English teacher since sixth grade, he wasn't ready to walk down my road to where it bent in the undergrowth. Or, to get back to Emerson, he "shunned the rugged battle of fate, where strength is born."

Not everybody can be in it for the principle, I suppose. He kicked me to the curb and settled for a thin, pretty girl (one with unremarkable boobs, I might add), and also a thin pretty girl with decent ones, and a thin pretty cop with an actually pretty ridiculous rack, and a thin pretty teacher who I guess is doing alright. Also my sister, when he can sneak in behind my back like the p*ssy he somehow returned to being, whose boobs I've seen way too much of since all this began. She's much too proud of those things.

When all is said and done, I'm glad for the experience, even if it ended in heartbreak. I learned a lot from him. I knew when I let him in that it would change me, but while I really thought those changes were going to come from my lover, somehow, they came from my teacher.

Thanks to the decisions I made about him, I am about to flunk my senior year of high school. However, I do so as a genius - at least according to Emerson, who defines it as, "To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men, that is genius." I did what I thought was right, and chased after what I wanted. I even got to have it, for a while, and hold onto it until it felt the need to squirm loose. That's more than most people can say, I guess.

I realize I'm way past the required number of quotes and maybe even getting to the point of too many, but I have to include one more. Emerson wrote, "Truly it demands something godlike in [her] who has cast off the common motives of humanity, and has ventured to trust [herself] for a taskmaster."

I am a goddess.