SLUT 4 U – Part II

A student in the last year of college gets his hands on a virus that, when sent through a simple text, will issue an irresistible command. Will the girl of his dreams succumb to its power, or will she be able to resist?

Disclaimer: All characters are entirely fictional and all resemblances to anyone in real life is entirely coincidental. If you are under 18 or offended by sexual material, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

SLUT 4 U

by Sinistra

Part II

Isabelle found her way to class, mumbling an excuse after stepping through the door. She checked her phone. 10 minutes late. Her eyes were glued to the floor as she made her way to her seat, trying in vain to ignore any raised eyebrows and smirks. She sat between her friends, Naomi and Scarlett. Both rivalled her in intellect and beauty, yet they maintained a strong bond of friendship; albeit one that could at times descend into jealousy. The corners of Scarlett’s lips curled into a smirk, and Naomi nudged her, muttering,

‘You’re brave’. Isabelled frowned, before remembering that her teacher, Mr Edwards, was famously intolerant of truants.

Mr Edwards’ eyes had followed her from the moment she walked in. She had always been a stunner, but today her skin seemed to glow, and he noticed that today she was exposing more than the typical amount of bosom. He licked his lips. He was going to enjoy this. He knew that on many previous occasions, he had give in to her cute, thankful smile as he let her off the hook for whatever it was – but today something was different. Every step she took was imbued with a subtle sway of the hips, and her bust seemed firmer on her chest. He couldn’t quite put his finger on how – but she exuded a sweet sexuality. As she met his stern gaze, he thought her expression was not one of meek naivety; but one that was teasing, vulnerable, and threatened to break out into a shameless grin. He felt his cock stir under his trousers. He had fantasised since the beginning of the year about giving her a real punishment, but this would have to do.

‘Ah, Isabelle! I was wondering when you’d turn up. Just because the school thinks you can get an A doesn’t mean you can skip lesson. I will generously assume you were late because you were too busy preparing for this topic – so redeem yourself; integrate this expression here.’ 14 pairs of eyes peered at her. Oh no – surely they noticed her ruffled blouse, loose hair, her pleased vacant expression…and pieced things together…maybe they had even heard her soft whimpers coming from the lavatory.

She blushed an even deeper shade of crimson. She was completely distracted, and before she could stammer an answer, the teacher sighed and began to lecture her on the importance of attendance.

Isabelle wasn’t used to this. She was one of his favourites, and could usually get off scot-free if she hadn’t given in her homework on time, or was caught chatting in lesson. Sometimes she suspected there was more to his favouritism than her stellar grades, but she tried not to think about it. What had changed?

Mr Edwards relished her embarrassment. In a perfect world, naughty little girls like her would be forced to submit to their superiors, no questions asked, he mused.

As her scolding continued, she still couldn’t ignore the whispers, the judgement of her classmates…and the tiny thrill that shot through her body at the thought. Isabelle! No one thinks you’re a slut. No one saw you, or could have even heard you. Stop thinking about it – it’s in the past. Now concentrate on your education. And so she did. For the rest of the day, she successfully put all thoughts of Darius and her little episode out of her mind. She had lunch with Naomi and Scarlett, kept herself under control, and made it through the day.

* * *

Isabelle roused from her deep slumber the next day; the sunrise painting her room with daylight. She had chosen to sleep naked, and although at first she was worried it was a side-effect of her recent horniness, she convinced herself that it was merely more comfortable. She couldn’t deny however that there was something wonderful about the feeling of her soft white sheets gliding over her sensitive skin as she tossed, turned, and sprawled out on her bed. She rose groggily, slipping her lithe body into her dressing gown and making her way downstairs for breakfast. Her mother, father, and sister were in the kitchen, her sister Daisy stooped over her breakfast bowl. She was a couple of years younger than herself, but just as pretty. Isabelle walked over to hug her sister..

‘Morning.’

‘Morning’ Daisy mumbled through a mouth of cereal. Her father Michael was dressed in a suit and was reading the paper, occasionally taking a sip from his mug or biting into some toast. Her mother was packing her lunch, dressed in a black figure hugging dress. Isabelle was the only brunette woman in her family; her mother and sister both sported full heads of blonde hair. Isabelle finished up her breakfast and got dressed. She decided that she liked her blouse slightly unbuttoned, but not because of it being at all sexual – God no. Never. It just makes me feel confident! School is stressful, and I need to keep a good state of mind. She’d never really thought of herself as a sexual person, but now she was looking at a pair of 4-inch heels in her room and couldn’t help but imagine what they would do for her figure.

Nothing’s wrong with feeling good about yourself, is it? As long as I don’t get too carried away…after all, after I…relieved myself yesterday I did feel a heap load better and I was able to focus much better in my classes. She put them on, stood up, and admired herself in the mirror. Her calves and ass had become tighter, accentuating her natural curves, and her shapely legs seemed longer, making her 5’9 body stand tall and erect. She picked up her bag and left for school.

* * *

Isabelle strode into the hallway, hair tied up in a ponytail, hips swaying side to side; her heels adding a sultry spring to her gait. She relished in the fact that as she made her way through her fellow classmates, eyes would turn her way and linger a little longer than she was used to.

Conversations would dry out as her co-students drank in her figure.