A vacant stare

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I was going to make your favourite breakfast," Jayden  says. She should turn around and look at him. But suddenly, she can't move at all. She knows he's approaching her. He sounds amused. "But if you're not hungry, we can do something else."

That's not right. That doesn't make any sense. How could he know her favourite breakfast? She's certain it didn't come up the night before. Okay, Rosalie , you're focusing on the wrong thing. Just a figure of speech or something. Doesn't matter.

“The best site i ever visited for kinky stuff. I do like BSDM and was searching for this niche since a long time ago. Finally i can say that i have found what i was looking for.”

– James M.

He's at her back, close enough that she can feel him. He pulls her shoes out of her hand, her purse off her shoulder.

She should stop him.

Why doesn't she stop him?

There's a tugging at her stomach, and then the belt comes off. He pulls at the dress's neckline. "Take this off, Rosalie ."

No, of course she's not going to take it off. She might not be able to stop him from taking her shoes and purse, but she definitely won't--

The fabric slips off her arms and torso, and then the dress falls, bunching around her feet.

She didn't even think about it. It was like her arms were moving independently from her conscious mind.

"Turn around."

Her cheeks burn as she turns her topless form to him. She folds her arms, trying to cover up her chest, but he gently takes her hands and stretches them in front of her, revealing her breasts in all their glory.

He smiles at them. He smiles at her. She wishes she didn't feel that ping in her groin at the thought of his approval. He's topless, wearing only a pair of jeans, and he looks, as always, infuriatingly attractive.

"I wonder if you've even noticed," he muses, "that you haven't said a word since you woke up."

Her eyes widened. Her hands are still in his. He's right. She's had plenty of thoughts, sure. Plenty of conversations in her own head. But not a single word spoken aloud.

"The last few months have been a lot of trial and error," he says, as if he's a scientist explaining an interesting experiment to an investor. "Making you forget some trances, remember others. Making you forget all of them some days, and remember them all the next. I wanted to be sure that your mind was really mine, that I could manipulate your memory at will. But last night was the final night of your training, and this was your last test. I needed to know that even when not in your trance, even with the memory of most of your trances temporarily removed, the most important parts of your programming would still stick."

"No." No, he's lying. He has to be. It can't be in three months. She couldn't have quit her job, moved in with him. She can't be brainwashed. She can't, she can't, she can't. Wake up, Rosalie . Wake the hell up. Stop thinking about how good it feels when he tugs at the waist of the thong, when the fabric falls down your legs, when he rubs your--

She moans again, realising how much of this is part of her programming. More than she ever would have guessed.

But if she knows, if she knows what he's doing, what he's done, doesn't that mean she can resist it? It has to. It just has to. She doesn't want whatever vague luxuries he's offering. This pleasure can't be worth her soul.

Can it?

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a remote. For a moment, she wonders if it's some device to control her, but he points it at the ceiling, and the projector blinks to life.

"It'll take a minute to warm up," he says.

"Please," she says. Her heart is beating so hard that she can feel it against her ribcage. 

"Please, Jayden , just let me go. I promise I won't tell anyone. Please, don't play it."

"Rosalie , listen to yourself." He almost sounds sympathetic. "You know, if you watch whatever I'm about to play, that it's game over. Doesn't the fact that you know that mean that you've already lost? If all someone needs to take over your mind is to play a video, how can you still call yourself a free woman? How could you have ever called yourself that?"

The projector completes its warm up routine, and an image appears on the screen behind him. He presses a button on the remote again, and a video starts playing.

At first, it's just the marbles. Their clinking plays over the speakers as they move. So soft, so soothing. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Her eyes glaze over instantly, and she turns her head away, but all he has to do is nudge her cheek, and she's locked onto the image, her neck paralyzed.

"You tried to look away, once or twice." She hears his belt and pants come off. "Remarkably late in the process, honestly. It might have been the last gasps of your free mind, but part of me suspects you wanted me to see you resist." She can hear the sneer in his voice. "You wanted me to punish you. I admit, that was fun, but we can't have stunts like that anymore if this is going to happen."

His words echo in her, very far away and yet somehow too close.

"But you came around quickly, especially after I reminded you how beautiful you are in your trance." He runs his thumb along her parted lips. "You like to feel beautiful, don't you, Rosalie ?"

"Yes." She feels the cuffs tug at her wrists as her arms relax, feels his cock harden against her hip.

"Then listen, beautiful girl. Let me give you all those memories back, and take everything else away."

Another sound comes from the speakers. A woman's voice. Her voice. And as she hears it, her memories come flooding back. Being in this room. Watching the marbles. Listening to Jayden , letting his voice and instructions become her world. And her life outside of his apartment, her former life. Quitting her job. Laughing at the reception ladies who would have rather seen her grow old and bitter like them. Leaving her crappy apartment. Cutting out her friends and family who never supported her anyway, according to Jayden . Accepting her new role. Even Jayden  telling her to forget it all so she could take her final test. She remembers it now.

She remembers recording this voice for her future self, reading off Jayden 's script as she sat at the table. She remembers how blissful she felt reading it, how Jayden  said she should be careful not to sound too aroused as it could make her hard to understand.

He enters her. Without even thinking, she thrusts her hips to meet his cock, though she furrows her brow at the words. They're her, but they're not, right? They can't be.

He thrusts. She thrusts. Every time she does, as the words go on, it feels more and more right. The words she spoke become irrefutably true, and unbelievably comforting. Fuck toy. 

The programming from the past three months hardens like cement within her. How could she have ever wanted anything else? Belonging to Jayden  is the greatest joy she could have ever asked for.

Jayden  thrusts in and out of her pussy, grunting and covering her face with kisses. She kisses him back, using her tongue the way he taught her, twisting it around his, licking the roof of his mouth and his teeth, trying to entice him to stay inside her holes.

Her master pumps into her, harder and harder. He's so proud of her. She knows she's a testament to his hard work. She knows she has to show him how much it's paid off. She squeals with delight as his cock rubs against her clit. She thrusts her hips as hard as she can, helping him to drive even deeper into her slut cunt.

She cums when he does, like a good slut. He groans with joy, and pulls back to see her sleepily happy face, basking in the afterglow of her climax, looking at nothing in particular. Then she turns to him with a contented hum, and gives him the easiest smile she's ever given anyone.

 "We may do some fine-tuning in the future," he says, "but I think it's safe to say that your conversion is complete."

Mm-hmm. Yes. Absolutely. She knows he's right, but he hasn't asked her if she agrees, so she says nothing. It's so easy. It's so much easier than resisting, than anything she's done in her entire life.

He doesn't put her panties back on. Instead, he pulls them out from under her feet and smells them. "Think you've earned a fresh pair," he says. He puts a hand on the small of her back and leads her to the bedroom. Their bedroom. She remembers now, how in the last three months, she's spent more nights in his bed than in her own. She glances at the chair he'd placed her green dress on. His instructions during her training come back to her; if he places clothes on the chair, or hands them to her, she's to put them on. She smiles. She doesn't even have to worry about clothes anymore.

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