I got Cyndi!

I can’t believe it. She must’ve been just barely under the threshold when the class finished, and simply being close to her in the corridor was enough to get her over the edge!

I keep looking at the list of names as I make my way through the corridor and to my classroom. Nearly all of the girls that were in Julian’s class and whose name I know have been converted. That seems to confirm my theory that it’s physical proximity that increases the speed of the conversion, since I barely spoke when I was in there.

I reach the first staircase (of many) on the way, but I’m so focused on my phone that I simply feel for the handrail without looking up, I hope nobody sees me.

Going back to the school profile, the spread rate has gone all the way up to 34%. At this rate, the whole school should be converted within a couple of days. I wonder if the speed of the conversion is affected by the size of the belief, or the targets’ personalities? If I made the belief that every student needs to dye their hair blonde, would a goth be converted slower than a more preppy girl?

I wish I had a goth in my classes.

Not to make her dye her hair blonde of course, but for other… activities.

Oh well, I can always just make one.

After a few minutes of moving up, down and sideways through these escheresque corridors, I reach my classroom, well in advance for once, and I get everything ready for the students’ arrival.

The first one to come in is Rachel. She was probably hoping to be here before anyone else so she wouldn’t have to speak to anyone. I smile at her without a word, to avoid breaking her.

The corners of her lips twitch up in haphazard motions.

Did she somehow manage to stutter a smile?

This girl needs my help. Would that I had more BS to spend on her, but as it stands, she’ll have to come after both Ellen and Jenny.

And maybe a few others.

She sits down, and the rest of the class slowly trickles in over the next few minutes, bringing in an increasing amount of inane decibels with them.

Just as I hoped.

I wait for everyone to be in, pretending not to notice the noise while I look through a few files (i.e. my Twitter feed) on my computer.

Eventually, the last girl I was waiting for, Ivy, comes in. She sits on the second row, right in the middle, and keeps talking with her friends/goons. Well, talking at her goons might be more accurate.

It’s something along the lines of “my dad’s company is bigger than your dad’s company”.

“Alright girls, we’re going to get started,” I announce, knowing full well it won’t have any effect.

And lo and behold, it doesn’t have any effect.

Now.

“Do I need to come and spank your asses red before you quiet down and pay attention!?” I roar.

The noise instantly stops.

App, please work.

The girls look at me in shock and surprise.

I’m screwed. What was I thinking? There’s no way they’re gonna let me get away with this…

….

That being said, they seem unusually quiet, and they’re looking at me.

Expectantly.

There’s no way out but through, is there?

“So, what’ll it be?” I ask while crossing my arms in a stately manner.

A few of them mumble out a “sorry”. One of them actually even says “sorry sir”. First time I’ve been called sir by any student other than Isabel.

I like it.

“That’s more like it. Now pay attention to class if you don’t want me to come and rip your clothes off.”

“Yes sir,” I hear a handful of them say. I recognise Isabel’s voice, but also… Ivy’s.

She looks beet red.

Defeated.

And she shuts up for the rest of the class. Diligently paying attention and taking notes. She looks completely helpless, out of her element.

You should get used to not being in control, Ivy, cause it’ll only get worse for you.

And you’re going to live every minute of it in blissful, lustful ignorance.

Eventually, the class comes to an end. The students pack their bags and actually mutter halfhearted goodbyes as they leave. Music to my ears.

They all go, except for one.

I’ll give you three guesses.

“You shouldn’t…” Ivy begins, before correcting herself, “Sir, I don’t think you should’ve talked to us that way earlier.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“We’d already stopped talking, you didn’t need to keep disciplining us afterwards,” she reproaches.

“You don’t think I should’ve threatened to rip of your clothes?”

“It’s not that. Of course it’s good for you to say that kind of thing, it’s just a part of your job to threaten to spank us or strap us naked to a bed, but don’t do it when we’ve already done what you asked!”

Strap you naked to a bed, eh? I like where her mind's going.

“I’ll be the arbiter of how much discipline I need to bring to my class. Do you understand that, or do I have to pinch your nipples until you do?”

“I… Yes sir.”

“Good. Have a nice day, Ivy.”

“Have a nice day, sir,” she says as she makes her way out of the class.

I’d almost feel bad for her if I didn’t feel so good for myself.