I pushed forward with steady pressure.

At first, there was resistance. The tight, long-untouched muscles of her intimacy tensed, repelling the invasion. But beneath that, I could feel it—the thin, elastic membrane of her restored purity. Her virgin pussy fought the penetration, a final defense.

It was a futile fight. Her own copious wetness provided the perfect lubricant. The swollen, glistening tip of my cock, already slick with her saliva, began to part her folds.

"Fuck," I growled between heavy breaths. "So tight... just like a true virgin."

I kept pushing, claiming every centimeter. I felt it all—the warm, soft folds that had never been stretched, the elastic walls clinging desperately to every inch of my invading shaft, the suffocating heat. It was different from Charlotte or Angeline. Different from anyone.

"Hold on, Headmistress," I whispered, my hands gripping her slender hips to pull her closer. "Feel this. Feel how I'm ruining you... for the second time in your life."

Slowly, I pressed on.

There was a faint, tearing snap at the tip of my dick, followed by the sudden give as a deeper, warmer space opened to me.

The final resistance vanished.

"Ughnn—!"

Ophelia jerked. A small convulsion wracked her body, a sharp gasp tearing from her lips. Her vacant eyes blinked rapidly.

A fresh trickle of bright red blood, mingling with her clear arousal, began to drip from where we were joined. It trailed down, staining the smooth white skin of her inner thighs and the polished mahogany of the desk. Her entire form trembled faintly—a pure, physiological response to the violation.

I paused, letting my shaft sink fully to the hilt, and drank in the scene.

Ophelia sat on her own work desk, skirt hiked up and legs spread wide, impaled by her most problematic student. The empty mask of her expression began to fracture around the edges of her eyes, as if a creature was screaming inside a glass box, unable to get out.

"Excellent," I murmured, stroking her flushed cheek with my thumb. "See, Headmistress? You're a virgin girl again. And I'm the one who took it."

Then, something remarkable began.

The walls of her pussy, initially tight and fiercely gripping, began to pulse. A wild, rhythmic clenching, as if the smooth muscles deep within her had awakened with a mind of their own.

They squeezed and released, a perverse exploration, mapping every curve, every vein, every dimension of the cock that now filled her completely.

I could feel the warm, inner flesh shifting and adjusting. It reshaped itself, molding around my shaft, creating a perfect, custom grip.

It was... incredible. As if her newly entered core was being assembled specifically for me. Even motionless, I was being massaged by living flesh that craved my exact shape.

The heat was perfect. The pressure was perfect. A constant, electric tingle spread from the tip of my cock throughout my entire body, a promise of limitless pleasure.

On Ophelia's face, the blankness imposed by [Mind Control] slowly crumbled. Her brows furrowed in pain and a deep, biological confusion. Her body was reacting to the transformation.

Short, wordless pants escaped her lips. Her eyes, though still glazed, blinked faster, as if even her controlled mind was bewildered by the new signals screaming from her uterus and pussy—organs undergoing a permanent, brutal alteration.

Her pussy was being reformatted. For me. For my cock alone.

The pleasure was almost unbearable. This custom-tailored embrace, combined with the sight of this powerful woman utterly helpless, made my cock throb violently, threatening a swift end. But I held back.

"Ahh... God," I snarled, fighting the urge to erupt. It was too good. "Look at this... your body... your perfect, whorish pussy... it's mine now."

I leaned down, my lips brushing her reddened ear.

"Listen carefully, Ophelia," I whispered, my voice hoarse with victory. "This is home now. For me. Your foolish husband will never find his way in again. Every time he tries, all you'll feel is pain... and emptiness."

I pulled my hips back slowly, savoring the blissful friction of every perfect fold sliding along my shaft.

"But when I enter..." I drove back in, deep and hard. "You'll feel this. The warmth. The fullness. The pleasure only I can give you. Your body is now cursed to crave me."

I forcibly tilted her chin up, forcing her vacant eyes toward mine.

"Headmistress," I commanded, my breath hot in her ear. "Wake up. Just for a moment. You'll forget this later, but for now... call me Master!"

The empty expression on Ophelia's face twisted, a war of identities raging beneath the surface. Then, the command took hold.

"AAAHHH!!" The scream ripped from her throat. Her eyes flew wide, flooded with a moment of terrifying, lucid awareness.

"Adam?? MASTER?! YOU—! AH! IT HURTS! WHAT ARE YOU—?!" she shrieked, her voice a tremor of rage, fear, and searing pain. "WHY—?!"

Her conscious mind was drowning in bewilderment. The tearing sensation, the brutal fullness, it all felt so...

"Uuuhnnnn… aah… aahh… it's strange… so hot… it's moving…" She felt her own flesh shifting, changing, adjusting around the intruding shaft. The sensation was horrifying, as if her very insides were alive and reshaping themselves to serve the man violating her.

"I… I want… more... please… move…"

It was the permission I'd been waiting for.

"Like that, my whore," I growled, and I surrendered to the rhythm.

PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!

My pace was fast, deep, and brutal from the first thrust. No more pretense of gentleness. I hammered into her with full force, my hips slamming against the base of her spread thighs with loud, wet impacts.

Every stroke was perfection. The custom-made grip clenched, massaged, and sucked at my shaft with each withdrawal, as if begging me not to leave.

Ophelia screamed. But the sound had changed. The undertone of coercive magic remained, but beneath it surged a tsunami of genuine, wild pleasure.

"AAAAH! YES! LIKE THAT! HARDER!" she screamed, her previously limp hands now clawing at my arms, nails breaking the skin. Her head was thrown back, her slender neck corded and throbbing. "MASTER! MASTER'S COCK… IS PERFECT! MY PUSSY… IT WAS MADE FOR THIS!"

She wasn't wrong. Every thrust didn't just sate my lust—it felt like fulfilling a primal purpose for her newly configured body. Her reformed cunt was a magnet, relentlessly pulling me back in.

I leaned over her, driving even deeper. "Cum for me, whore! Cum on your student's cock!"

"I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMMMING—!!!"

Her body arched like a drawn bow, every muscle seizing. Her perfect pussy convulsed around me in wild, milking spasms, squeezing with impossible force, as if trying to drain my soul and seed directly from my balls. Her release, already copious, gushed out in a hot flood, soaking my thighs and the desk beneath her.

[You have successfully made Ophelia climax.]

[Ophelia's Sexual Arousal automatically drops to 66.]

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