Every time you went to class, you saw It, proudly on display. It stood out on the wall, bright white with bold, capitalised, black lettering. Every night, you were fucked, edged, filled, and used while images of It never fully left your eyesight.
If you hadn't been shown the Truth in-person, you wouldn't have believed that a woman made that shirt. He told you that His constant purchases were supporting woman-owned business, and you laughed in His Face before a Hand struck you silent. While one of His Hands held your face as easily as a child's, long piano-playing Fingers perfect for keeping you still, the other Hand typed up a search in Google and turned it to you.
"See, I do support woman-owned businesses." He said, Voice so cocky, taunting and toxic. On screen, the shirt was displayed on proud, smiling, feminine models. All of these girls were from the last Gender Studies Class! you could be forgiven for the shock of seeing even the professor treated like nothing but a smiling piece of ass. Right after He showed you that, He promised that He'd get you to say the words willingly, that He'd get you to wear that shirt willingly by the end of the year. He even told you how He'd do it, but you were too busy edging into an idiotic stupor to understand. This was Gender Studies 202, ms croptop had given Him freedom of the land.
That should have been your first sign to quit, to give up. "The grade's not worth it." -your friends would say- "Beating Him this way isn't worth the things He'll make you say!"
Despite hearing that again and again, every day you were on time to class. you needed to prove that women, even under the oppressive yolk of applied misogyny, weren't just a piece of ass. you thought you knew what He'd make you say, what He'd make you do. you thought that the years of equality, of Feminist rallies and pro-Feminist schooling had hardened you. Surely a bit of degradation can't hurt, right? It's not like a few days (weeks? months? you can't recall now) of degradation and humiliation could wipe away all of that. you'd entertain Him for this semester, for the whole year at most. By the time teacher evaluations came around, this class's reputation would be toast.
you really should have listened to your friends after all, it seems.
It started when your extracurriculars began to slip. Coach pulled you aside, she said you were being benched until you could look her in the eyes and say you were okay. How embarrassing must it have been, to know that His Lessons were starting to sink in? Even if you didn't acknowledge it yet, you knew your thoughts kept fading away, all throughout the day.
your task that night was to edge on sex toys and vibrators He controlled, while you wrote out the words 'women shouldn't work' until your mind went numb. Maybe you wrote more, you don't even know, by the time you hit 'submit' your brain was too fogged up and dumb.
Then, as the Spring Semester started, your grades already began to slip. He stamped a big red 'F' on every doll's forehead as they sat in class that morning, to match the falling digits on the computer screen. One day, He had you write 'women are idiots' over and over again while you bounced on a dildo and sucked on His Fingers. Once again, He edged and edged and edged you until your leggings were ruined and your shirt was soaked through. Once again, you weren't allowed to see the things you'd said.
A new VR headset was being released in March, and He bought it for the class. Instead of playing game, though, He strapped it on snugly and made the class recite 'women are inferior,' hours upon hours of porn playing, hands bound over your latest assignments, vibrators in your cunts. He said you were a good girl, the professor for GS202 gave you an A, and you were excused from classes to edge all day. None of you turned in those essays.

The following week, like many of the girls, you were flunked out of the core class to advance your major. When He found out about it, He asked you how you felt. That night, as He stuffed His Cock down your throat for the first time, you wrote 'women are worthless' until your hands fell limp at your sides. In the morning, covered in your own drool and still so horny from not being allowed to cum, the papers had gone away.
When you arrived in class, sobbing like the few girls that cared about their removal? He slapped each and every one, while ms croptop wrote 'women are emotional' on the board. He told you to recite and write the words until Him and croptop returned, or else you'd flunk GS202 as well. After hours had passed, and you'd missed your last class, He finally returned, without ms croptop. you were to be given One (1) more chance, because of His mercy and ms croptops 'convincing display'. you were allowed to cum only as your nose pressed against His Pelvis, as you choked on His Cock, muttering "thfankyoouuu!" over and over again.
By now, your friends were worried about the changes they were seeing in you. your skirts growing shorter, your makeup done more than ever before, instead of studying you were edging like a vapid whore!! you waved them all off, it was harmless, it'd only been a semester! GS202 was taking a field trip to DC soon, and you had signed up because it's what good girls do.
The first day the class wrote out "women shouldn't have rights" as they were struck down. He made you write out why, too, but removed them from everyone's view. That night, randomised girl's writings were shown in the VR headsets while you were edged into a mindless bliss, everyone's reading a low, droning hiss.
When you returned to school later that month, a friend confided in you that her boyfriend had gotten her pregnant. She begged for you to keep it a secret, asked your opinion on what she should do. you tuned that all out. "I won't tell a soul, I promise!" He had a gag in your mouth as you recited "women shouldn't speak". you tried to stand up for your friend when he called her dumb, so He slapped you until your cunt leaked, and you returned to being meek. your only connection to human language were those three words that night, as you watched hours upon hours of women's throats used like fleshlights.
As final exams came in with 'F' after 'F', it felt natural to say "women shouldn't learn". His Cock filled your throat as you said it again and again for Him, muffled and mewling as your head felt so foggy and thin. you were His star pupil, He told you then.

One week later, with the VR headset on, His Hand at your throat and His Cock in your cunt, three words appeared in soft, sweet pink. "Say it, like a good whore." He commanded, Hand squeezing and Cock pumping.
With his degradation in your ear, and those three words shouted through you lips, you came harder than ever before.
The shirt came off the wall for graduation, every girl who'd passed was given one a size too small. He liked how they fit so snug on His fuckdolls.
you wore it willingly when He visited home with you, and recited it proudly as if it were something you wrote.
you fully believed that women shouldn't vote.

-XXXX-

Well, this certainly got carried away from me! If you read that all, I appreciate you, you're pretty great.
The idea here is certainly porn logic'd to high hell, but essentially a hostile takeover of what *was* a feminist Gender Studies Class. If this doesn't quite scratch your itch, I've got a few other posts we could try, and I'm always down to plot something new!
Obviously, the main kinks presented here are misogyny, extreme male dominance, and conditioning. I'd love to focus on those three aspects, on how they affect your mind and will, eroding your very being until you're just holes to fill. Other kinks that I'd love to include run the gamut from cheating to clothing control, from raceplay (to the front of the line with you!), to oral. My only limits are diapers, and infantilization!
I hope to plot and play with you all soon!