The classroom flickered with strobing spirals on the projector screen, the mesmerizing patterns swirling in kaleidoscopic colors. Jennifer's eyes went glassy, her mind emptying like a draining bathtub as she stared transfixed.

After the brainwashing video ended, the instructor tapped his pointer on the chalkboard. "Alright ladies, time for your weekly assessment test. Put those pretty little heads to work."

Jenny gnawed on her pencil, brow furrowed in confusion at the simple math problems. Hot flashes rushed through her as Chad, the hunky frat boy proctor, passed by. She giggled vapidly, sneaking peeks at his muscular body.

When time was up, the instructor collected the tests, making tsk-tsk noises. "Well, it seems most of you are barely at a fourth grade level now. Just a few more weeks before you'll be ready for your future..." He winked conspiratorially at the male administrators observing from the back.

Jenny's gaze drifted to the window, her mind clouded with hazy cotton candy swirls. She hadn't the faintest idea what they had in store, but she didn't care. All she wanted was to look pretty and have fun! Education was stupid anyway. With a ditzy smile, she began applying thick, gloopy cherry lip gloss in preparation for...whatever came next.

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Angelica's heart hammered against her ribcage as she stood before Jason, the weight of her defiance pressing down on her like a thick blanket of dread. Shadows from the dimmed living room lights stretched across his face, deepening the furrowed lines of disappointment that had settled there. She could barely muster the courage to meet his gaze, feeling every inch of her 22 years slinking away, leaving her trapped in the body of a chastised child.

"Angelica," Jason's voice was somber, steady—a foreboding rumble that echoed the internal tremors threatening to unravel her composure. He moved with deliberate slowness, the creak of the leather couch punctuating the silence as he seated himself, an unspoken edict in the gesture toward his lap.

A solitary tear escaped Angelica's eye, tracing a hot path down her cheek as she stepped forward, her movements hesitant and laden with resignation. Lowering herself across Jason's knees felt like crossing an invisible threshold back into a time when the world was larger, scarier, and full of giants. His hand, once a source of comfort and warmth, now felt like the harbinger of atonement as it swept over her hair with deceptive tenderness.

She shivered, a vague awareness of his touch shifting from her head to her posterior—the last remnants of her autonomy slipping through her fingers like sand. Time seemed to contract around her, each breath dragging her further down memory lane until she was no longer in her own apartment but transported to the vulnerability of her youth.

The first impact jolted her back to the present, the sting spreading like wildfire, igniting a cascade of pain that shattered her adult illusion. "Swat! Swat! Swat!" The sound of Jason's hand meeting her skin was a metronome of discipline, stripping away layers of self-reliance with each punishing strike until nothing remained but a raw, exposed nerve of obedience.

Sobs wracked her body, the tears flowing freely now, as Jason's ministrations shifted from punitive to soothing, his palm rubbing gentle circles over the tenderized flesh. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, the agony ebbing away with each pass of his hand, replaced by a hollow emptiness that yearned for absolution.

"Are you going to be my good little girl?" Jason's query floated down to her, loaded with expectation.

"Y-Yes, Daddy," Angelica whispered through hitching breaths, the title slipping out with practiced ease, a testament to their dynamic—a pact sealed with pain and penitence. She clung to the word 'Daddy' like a lifeline, embracing the simplicity of the role laid out before her.

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