The Femdom Genius Ch. 02

Author's note: This work of adult erotic fiction represents a cooperative effort between a human author and a GPT-3 text generator. It started as an interesting experiment, but I thought the result was something worthy of sharing. I'm curious to see what people think. About 40% of the content was generated by the artificial intelligence, although heavily edited to correct plot details and to create a more consistent style. Most of the time I wrestled the story in the direction that I wanted to take it, but occasionally, I'd let the AI take things down a less expected path. It made for a very interesting and unique creative experience. In this second chapter, I've continued to train the AI to better understand the characters. It can still be a bit stiff here and there, but I think it is improving. Between the AI story contribution and the fairly heavy fetishes, this work is bound to be a bit polarizing. Despite the mixed reviews for the first chapter, I plan to continue the story, as long as there is a following. Chapter two introduces the story AI named Vee. I felt it apt, given that a real AI is helping to write the story. This installment features slightly less kink than the first, but I think the second chapter is a good time to flesh out the main characters and set the plot stage. I'm considering a format of one chapter per each day in the life of the professor, but this is not yet set in stone. I will also note that this story is entirely fictional, meant for adult fantasy entertainment only, and that I in no way endorse the sort of non-consensual blackmail contained within.

Chapter Two:

You sleep surprisingly well considering the circumstances. During those first waking moments, you have at least ten seconds of bliss in which you think that it all must have been a crazy dream. As the morning haze dissipates from your mind, the horrors that you experienced at the hands of Jennifer come crashing in, knocking you back to the new hell that is your reality. You are in fact being blackmailed by Jennifer and you are her slave. You try to give yourself a little encouragement. You managed to get through Jennifer's torments yesterday. Today you can try to once again appeal to Jennifer's humanity. Surely she can be convinced that you have paid your dues during yesterday's session and that you learned your lesson. She can't really want to totally ruin your life over a few inappropriate pictures.

You stick to your morning routine as best you can. You find comfort in doing so. You shower, shave and make coffee before driving back to the MIT campus. You enter your office and sit down. You have two morning classes that you need to teach before the dreaded afternoon class with Jennifer. The thought of seeing her again in your classroom after all that she put you through is dreadful. You resolve to take this day one step at a time.

Your morning classes are uneventful. These are both introductory computer science courses and you can teach them easily enough without much focus. You try to keep yourself busy during the interim off hours, but your mind keeps replaying the horrible events of yesterday. You procrastinate as long as you can and arrive to your afternoon computer science class a little later than usual. Several students are already here including Jennifer. You hesitate at the entryway for a moment, trying to compose yourself. Jennifer is wearing her typical schoolgirl uniform and is sitting in the front row as usual.

You place your briefcase and laptop down on the desk at the front of the room and pull out a few lesson notes. Your hands visibly tremble as you pull out the papers. You don't think anyone noticed, but realize that you really need to calm yourself before you start the lecture. You exhale deeply through your mouth. Today's lesson is on a specific type of advanced neural network simulation. You awkwardly try to avoid making eye contact with Jennifer as you wait for the other students to finish arriving. You check the time. The official start of class is in just three minutes.

"Hello professor," Jennifer says in a friendly tone.

Your first reaction is to recoil and flinch at the sound of her voice. This is the voice of the girl that made you do such disgusting things. Her simple greeting is enough to trigger a fight or flight response in your subconscious. You were hoping to have as little interaction with her during your lesson as possible. At least she can't hurt you in front of all these students. You try to convince yourself that you are safe from her for now, at least in your own classroom.

"Hello Jennifer," you say with a forced smile. You look up from your notes to find Jennifer in her usual sitting position. Her legs are spread wide giving you a clear view up her short skirt. Your gaze lingers on the same pale pink panties that you were forced to clean in your mouth the previous day. You cringe at the memory.

Jennifer lets out an exaggerated yawn as she kicks off her shoes and rubs her cute feet together. She is wearing the same matching pale pink socks as well of course. The mere sight of them is enough to make the taste reemerge in your mouth. This must be some sort of psychosomatic effect. She is clearly trying to make this as awkward as possible. At that moment, you steel yourself to not let her fluster you. You are going to win this one mental game. The score is a hundred to zero in her favor, but surely this small victory can be had. She's on your turf now. You will maintain full control of this classroom and you're not going to allow her to make you feel uncomfortable. Your confidence rises.

You walk to the blackboard, call the class to order and begin teaching. You step through the various technical aspects of how this fairly new type of neural network functions. You are getting into your teaching groove. The class seems genuinely interested in the boundless possibilities that this type of artificial intelligence could provide. You are pleasantly surprised that Jennifer has remained silent for the entire first half of the lesson. Your luck eventually runs out when you ask if anyone has questions.

Jennifer's hand shoots up. She begins asking her question without waiting to be called on. "So, if one wished to use this sort of neural net to run a simulation of a person, you know, like really do a deep dive into their psyche, predict their behavior and learn to push all of their buttons... how much node based data would be required to pull something like that off?"

You must admit that this is a fascinating idea. Normally, these nets are used to simulate mathematical constructs like traffic patterns or hydrodynamic forces in flowing water. She presses further. "I mean how much behavioral data would it take to make the simulation truly predictive?" The entire class stares at you waiting for your reply.

You thoughtfully respond, "I suppose it would take millions of parameters fed into the input nodes to model something as complex as human behavior. It would take an enormous amount of data."

"I know it wouldn't be very practical to obtain, but hypothetically... if one gathered every single email that the subject ever wrote, their entire lifetime of social media postings, financial records including all credit card purchases, phone location tracking, medical records, educational records, job resumes and topped that off with a few hundred hours of video of them going about their everyday life... do you think that might be enough data?"

Jennifer's strange question hangs in the air. A few people cough and look around nervously. You think for a moment before answering. "Well, that would certainly be enough data... but the processing power required would be astronomical."

Jennifer feigns disappointment. "That's too bad. I suppose we'll just have to wait for a genius to come along to bring that kind of thing to fruition. Perhaps someone smart enough could increase the efficiency of the neural algorithm by a few orders of magnitude. Maybe also design a modified CPU to process that specific type of data faster. I guess the world will just have to wait."

Several students look at each other with puzzled expressions. They find Jennifer's questions and comments to be even stranger than usual. You are equally bewildered. Is she implying that this is what she has done to you? Is this the simulation that she spoke of yesterday? You know that Jennifer hacked your laptop, but you find it hard to believe that she could have gathered that much information about you. It doesn't seem possible. Besides, you are confident that the sort of processing power required will not be around for several more decades at least. Perhaps she does have a simulation of some sort that she is using to help her control you, but surely it can't be anywhere near that advanced.

Thankfully, Jessica doesn't interrupt the remainder of the lesson. You field a few more mundane questions from some of the other students and make some concluding statements. You dismiss the class a few minutes early and students rapidly depart. As you expected, and much to your dislike, Jessica remains sitting steadfast with a grin on her face. You sigh while massaging your forehead. You are grateful to have made it through the workday. You weren't sure that you had it in you, given that a tornado named Jessica swept in and upturned your life yesterday.

Jennifer slowly claps her hands in a somewhat condescending manner. "That was a pretty interesting topic. Your presentation was remarkably clear, organized and insightful considering the... circumstances. Vee did suggest that you'd probably cling to some semblance of normality through your classroom management. I'll admit, given your stage presence, I doubt anyone would suspect that you are actually a lowly slave."

You look nervously at the open classroom door. You hope no one is within earshot of her demeaning words. Jennifer is again making reference to the AI construct named Vee that she claims is aiding her to blackmail and train you. You still aren't sure how much of that you believe, but it is disconcerting that either Jennifer or the mysterious Vee can read you like an open book. "I'm not... I mean..." You sputter nervously at the sight of Jennifer's barely veiled contempt for you.

"You're not what, professor? A lowly slave? I can assure you that the control that you think you maintain while teaching is a pathetic illusion. This is a notion that I will free you from soon enough. I am in complete control of every aspect of your life and you are powerless to change said circumstances." Jennifer stands, puts on her shoes and walks to you.

"I don't think..." you start to say before being silenced with a finger pressed to your lips.

"Shhhh, I know. I know. You don't think, but that's OK. I'll be doing all of the thinking anyway. You have the easy part of our arrangement. All you need to do is obey without question."

She pauses to give you a closer look over. "You're very pale professor and your hands are shaking again. It's pretty obvious that you're scared shitless and there is no shame in that. I haven't even started today's session and you already look like you are going to pee your pants hah hah hah. You don't know what's coming, but you know it's going to be terrible. Well, we have a pretty long walk across campus, so hopefully you can maintain control of your bladder to save yourself that humiliation at least."

You bow your head in defeat. No clever retort comes to mind and it would serve no purpose anyway. You remain silent.

Jennifer places your notes and laptop into your briefcase as if she owned them. She hands you the briefcase along with her backpack. "Well, let's get going. I've been excited about putting you in the chastity device all day. You'll be carrying my things of course and I expect you to stay exactly two paces behind me. No farther and no closer."

She turns on her heels and heads out the door. You stand dumbfounded for just a moment before nervously rushing after her, mindful of the required distance. What else can you do besides obey? You both exit the computer science building and begin to work your way across campus. The walkways are crowded as this is a common break time between classes. The weight of Jennifer's backpack is substantial, but you manage both it and your own heavy briefcase well enough.

You can't help but feel that everyone is staring at you. You know that this is almost certainly not the case, yet you can't shake the feeling of public shame in having to follow Jennifer like a trained beast of burden while carrying her backpack. You find it far more likely that people are staring at Jennifer. She has a way of carrying herself that demands attention. It's a mix of confidence and arrogance. She has the looks to make girls jealous and boys horny.

Jennifer decides to break the silence. "So tell me professor, did you decide to jerk yourself silly before the start of your chastity sentence? One last hurrah before I lock your little friend away?" You look around in panic to see if anyone heard her. She isn't even trying to be discrete. Annoyed at your delay, she raises her voice even louder. "I... asked... you... a... fucking... question!"

"Yes," you sheepishly reply.

"Awww, what, too shy to use my proper title in public? I suppose I'll let that slide for now. I figured you'd take advantage of your last day of freedom. You really are a little slut aren't you?" You grow increasingly nervous that someone is going to overhear. There was no one particularly nearby at the moment she said that, but you are passing by other pedestrians periodically.

Jennifer throws her arms up in the air, abruptly halts and turns to face you. "I... asked... you... another... fucking... question! Are... you... a... little... slut?" She enunciates each word slowly and with more volume than is necessary causing several passersby to glance over at you. She is going to get you fired if this keeps up.

You decide that placating her is the best strategy. "Yes, yes I am. Please be more discrete. Please."

She starts walking again. "Oh, get over yourself professor. No one here cares about your nasty masturbation habit." She waves her hand around pointing out the hustle and bustle of everyone going about their business. "So let me guess, you blew your load thinking about my naked body, right?"

Just when you think nothing she says could surprise you anymore, you find yourself stunned by the question. You indeed had an incredibly explosive orgasm while picturing Jennifer's sexy tone body. You were deeply shamed that despite all that she put you through, you couldn't shake her vision. You'll be damned if you'll admit this to her though. You simply respond, "no."

Jennifer again stops abruptly and turns to face you. She just glares at you for a moment giving you time to twist in the wind. You feel hot all over and look away in an effort to not make eye contact. "That was a lie!" Her tone expresses a mix of anger and disappointment. After another long pause she says, "a lie that you will pay dearly for before the day is done." She marches on, walking a bit faster now.

A tidal wave of emotions washes over you. Your mouth goes dry and you feel sick to your stomach. You try to make sense of it all. You feel shock in that she seemed so certain of your lie. You feel regret in that your decision to fib was certainly a mistake. You feel unbridled fear of how she will punish you for the transgression. Some other subconscious emotion lingers just out of reach. Your mind races in a state of deep meta analysis. You feel shame. Complete and utter shame for having lied to Jennifer. Part of you wants to prostrate at her feet and beg for forgiveness. Bystanders be damned.

The momentary shame quickly transforms to anger. You feel anger at having felt shame. How the fuck can you feel guilty for lying to someone that is ruining your life? You owe that bitch nothing, certainly not your honesty! It is all too much to take in. You decide to say and do nothing. You quicken your pace having fell a few steps behind.

Jennifer is silent for the rest of the walk. After a few more minutes, you finally arrive at Thomson Hall. Like a dog going to the veterinarian, you feel a lump forming in your throat knowing that you are just moments away from being alone with Jennifer. While walking across campus, the dreaded second session was still an abstraction. It will materialize all too soon now. She stands expectantly at the entryway. It takes several seconds for her expectation to register. You nervously open the door for her and follow her into the building.

Jennifer wastes no time in leading you down the hallway to her dormitory suite. She scans her student ID card to unlock the door. The mechanism is similar to those use in many hotels. She turns and pauses in the doorway as if she had just opened the door to greet you. She stands silently for a moment before striking a seductive pose like that of a runway model. You take in her shapely figure. Her lush golden hair flows just past the shoulder. She grabs your tie and pulls you towards her through the doorway, kicking the door shut behind you. Still holding you close, she softly whispers through pursed lips, "welcome to my parlor."

You complete the common expression in your mind. You certainly feel like a fly trapped in a spider's web. This spider's web consists of blackmail files. Jennifer keeps eye contact for several long seconds and then breaks the spell by releasing your tie. "I hope you're ready for our second training session professor. It certainly isn't going to be easy for you." She turns on her heels and saunters off to her bedroom. Her walk is particularly seductive with exaggerated hip swings in her tight plaid skirt. You break your gaze away just long enough to make a quick scan of the suite. You are relieved to see no signs of her roommate. You follow her to the bedroom with growing trepidation.

Jennifer takes the heavy backpack and briefcase from you and places them on the desk next to her impressive desktop computer. She sits on the corner of her neatly made double bed and begins to take off her shoes. She next unfastens the top three buttons of her white collared shirt to make herself more comfortable. This reveals several inches of her ample cleavage. You are fairly sure that, like yesterday, she is not wearing a bra. You consider that perhaps her breasts are so firm and well-proportioned that a bra is rendered unnecessary. Her nipples press against the white fabric. You are struck with a twinge of disappointment when it becomes clear that she is not removing her shirt completely. You stand awkwardly in the middle of the room wondering what is going to happen next.

"I want you to strip and kneel," she commands sternly while pointing at the ground before her.

You comply without hesitation. Your still trembling hands struggle with some of the buttons of your shirt, but you are kneeling naked at her feet in short order.

"Today I'm going to be taking away yet another component of your free will. Your cock will soon be locked away and you'll no longer control when and how you masturbate. As my slave, your pleasure of orgasm is now forfeit and shall only be lent back under the rarest of circumstances. Lots of couples toy with the idea of chastity, perhaps buying a cheap device online to spice up their boring sex life. Rarer is the couple that takes it a little more seriously and actually attempt to achieve a modicum of security with extended lock times that challenge the willpower of the submissive. I can assure you that it all pales to that which I have in store for you. This will be the real deal and you are not going to enjoy the experience. Nevertheless, your chastity device will serve a vital role in my control over you, in ways that you certainly can't imagine now, but all shall be made clear to you by the end of today's session. Tell me slave, how does hearing all of this make you feel?"