When she woke, it was in a room she didn't recognize. She didn't know how she got there, either; she glanced over at the door in evident confusion, unable even to imagine what could be on the other side. She could be in any city in the world, from... from... her eyes went wide as she suddenly realized she couldn't think of the names of any of those cities. She understood what one was, she could picture tall buildings in her head and imagine busy streets in her mind, but she didn't know what locale they belonged to in any kind of detail. She didn't know which one of them she lived in.
The more she thought about it, the deeper the well of confusion seemed to go. Not only could she not remember her home, or how and why she left it to come to this utterly unfamiliar room with its bland beige walls and its characterless pictures on the wall and its wide, soft queen bed, but... she couldn't remember anything about herself. The more she struggled to discover some fact about her past or personality, the more it seemed to recede into a tantalizing mist that thickened and deepened into an opaque white fog inside her mind. She couldn't remember where she lived, when and where and whether she went to school; even her very name seemed to slip out of her head, leaving her in a daze of befuddlement that went down to her very core.
She looked around, trying to find some clues that would fill in the inexplicable and absolute gaps in her memory, but the room looked utterly generic. There were no signs of habitation, nothing that she could use to tell her anything about herself. Even her own body, when she looked down at it, gave her no real information--she was naked, without a stitch of clothing that she could use to remind herself of her taste in fashion. She saw a tattoo on her soft pink thigh, but it told her nothing besides the bare fact of its own existence. She couldn't remember getting it. She didn't know if she was drunk or sober, if the rainbow she saw was a spur-of-the-moment whim or if it meant something deep and profound to her. She traced it, hoping to spark some recollection, but nothing came to mind.
It was a strange experience, being so completely devoid of a past. She didn't feel frightened; it was almost as if the part of her that could imagine consequences of her amnesia had drifted off into the fog along with the rest of her, leaving behind only a placid, bewildered fascination with her own emptiness. She knew that something must have happened to her to leave her like this, and she knew that she couldn't sit on this bed forever staring vacantly at the wall in confusion... but at the same time, it felt oddly freeing. She could be anyone. She could be anything. She just needed to find out what.
And then, suddenly, there were fingers in her cunt.
She looked down, then around. The Caucasian man sitting next to her hadn't been there a moment ago, she was sure of it. She didn't think he'd been out of view, or hiding behind her or anything; he'd simply appeared, two fingers already sliding along her slick and shining labia, pushing into her pussy with an ease that suggested that she was incredibly wet even before he began thrusting his digits in and out of her soaking cunt. She didn't know how that could happen. It seemed impossible, but so did waking up in a strange place without any memories or identity. She was beginning to accept that impossible things simply happened to her now.
"Hello, pet," he said, his voice soft and gentle and dripping with condescension. "I'm your Master now. And you're my obedient, brainless fucktoy. Does that sound nice, pretty slut?" P-pet, no she, no pet... pet paused for a moment, mouth open, trying to process the new information. Part of her felt like it shouldn't sound nice. 'Obedient' and 'brainless' didn't sound like nice things to be at all, let alone 'fucktoys' and 'sluts'. And the names... pet struggled to place them into the contextless void of her mind. Pets were dumb, domesticated animals, weren't they? And Masters... Masters were people who owned pets. The man, this Master man, he was saying he owned her. Pet could hear a voice in the back of her brain saying that wasn't right.
But when she tried to listen to it, to follow that instinct, it only led her deeper into the fog. She couldn't find any reasons why that wasn't right, any explanation that told her why she wasn't a pet or a slut or a fucktoy. She only felt those fingers pushing in and out of her slick, soaking cunt, filling her with more and more pleasure with every passing moment. Every time she thought about being obedient, being brainless, she could feel her pussy clenching around the intruding digits with a strength that sent wave after wave of arousal up her spine and into her empty brain.
The more he fucked her slippery cunt, the easier it became to accept the truth of those words. It felt almost like he was pushing them up inside her with every thrust, like they were going into her head along with the waves of pleasure and filling up the empty space inside her head. There was nothing there to constrain them, nothing to push back against the constant and unwavering rhythm of his pumping, rubbing fingers and tell her who she really was. Eventually, pet found herself simply believing Master's thoughts as if they were her own. As if she'd known them all along.
"...yes," pet murmured at last. She didn't know how long it had taken her to speak. The drool dripping from her chin suggested she'd been sitting there with her jaw hanging slack, trying to think for herself and failing utterly, for at least a couple of minutes. Somehow it didn't seem important. The throb in her cunt had turned off time for a while. She let her legs spread wider, giving Master easier access to her pussy, and allowed herself to listen to the words that were giving her vacant mind new purpose and meaning.
Master kissed her gently on the cheek, the butterfly touch of his lips vividly contrasting the powerful thrusts between pet's legs. "Yes what, pet?" he asked, infinitely patient and yet somehow commanding at the same time. Pet felt another surge of extra-slick wetness in her cunt, as though her body was somehow making a whole new kind of lubrication in order to convey the intensity of her arousal. Maybe it was. Pet couldn't really be sure that she didn't always do that when Master fucked her.
Always... always? Pet barely even heard herself say, "Yes, Master," or noticed him lowering her body back into a supine position on the bed. She was too busy wondering how long she'd been owned. The warm, contented sensation between her legs seemed to stretch back into her memory almost forever, but pet knew that she didn't have a memory before a, a... a while ago. How long was a while? How long had Master been fucking her pussy with his fingers? How long had she been an obedient, brainless fucktoy? The more she thought about it, the more the feeling expanded back into the void of her mind until it filled it entirely.
By the time Master purred out, "You've always been my empty little slave," pet agreed without any struggle at all.
"I've always been your... empty little slave," she gasped out in reply, her hips straining up into his touch and her eyes rolling back into her head until only the whites showed for a moment. It somehow felt so much easier to simply repeat Master's words back to him; her mind felt utterly vacant without them, as though the effort of coming up with her own thoughts and ideas was simply too much for her exhausted brain. She didn't have any experiences outside of submission to Master that would give her anything else to think or say or do; pet's whole life to this moment, as far as she knew, was being fucked and controlled. Of course that made her a slave.
Her response must have pleased him, because he leaned in and pursed his lips around pet's nipple in a moment of brief, intense suction that made her breasts tingle in naked desire. When he let go with a popping sound and said, "Pet has always been Master's dumb, horny slut," pet found herself whimpering in desperate arousal that made her squirm against his thrusting fingers. She didn't know whether it was the physical stimulation or the programming that did it. She was rapidly losing track of which was which.
She was almost surprised to hear her own voice when she gasped out, "P-pet has always... been Master's d-dumb, hhhhhorny s-s-slut." She couldn't remember anything about herself, but somehow it still astonished her that she could sound so needy, so aroused, so utterly consumed by physical pleasure. She sounded like... fuck, she sounded like a dumb, horny slut. The tangible reality of Master's words slipped past her abandoned defenses with ease, leaving her absolutely convinced of the truth behind his calm, implacable statements. Pet was a dumb, horny slut, an obedient brainless fucktoy. She was Master's empty little slave and she always had been.
Pet's eyes went glassy and unfocused, staring up at the ceiling in utter abstraction as the pleasure built and grew beyond her capacity to imagine. She didn't know how much stronger it could get, but she was already amazed beyond reason by the sheer power in Master's touch. She'd never felt this good before, and her brain linked it instantly and automatically to his soft, whispered voice in her ears. "Pet's naked because she's too stupid for clothes, isn't she?" he asked, and pet effortlessly accepted it as true.
"P-pet's too s-s-stupid for, for clothes," she gasped out, her whole body arching on the mattress with overwhelming, culminating euphoria. She couldn't argue with anything Master said to her; she simply didn't have the context to refute him. She couldn't remember talking to any other person, going to any kind of school, anything that might put her intellect into some kind of framework that could tell her whether she was smart or not. Master was telling her she was stupid and it felt so, so fucking good. Of course it was true. She didn't even want to contradict him anymore.
He kept bringing her to that peak again and again, over and over, each time whispering something new that made her gush all over the sheets with helpless arousal. "Pet needs Master's cock so bad." "Pet can't stop thinking about being used by Master's cock." "Pet wants to rub Master's cock and balls all over her slutty face." "Pet only wants to be a vacant, mindless, brainwashed fucktoy for Master." "Pet needs to be empty and obedient." Each and every instruction finding purchase in the fertile soil of pet's open, thoughtless, mind. She felt like a sponge, soaking up Master's programming until it saturated her completely. And oh god, it felt so fucking wonderful.
Eventually he got on top of her, straddling her face and rubbing his cock and balls all over her until the thick, musky scent of his sweat clung to every pore. She licked and nuzzled every inch of his shaft as it went by, sucking on his heavy sack when he dipped it into her mouth and rubbing herself furiously until she was helpless to resist associating his taste with pure, inexorable bliss. He kept talking to her the whole time, explaining in detail exactly how desperately aroused the decadent act made her, but pet was beginning to lose track of Master's words. She was lost in the flavor of him. She was overwhelmed by it. And she never wanted to stop.
When he finally gushed thick, salty fluid onto her face, pet instinctively cleaned it off with her fingers and licked every last drop from her own skin. She didn't know how she knew; somewhere in the sticky mess of arousal and lust that was her own brain, she could hear words reverberating inside her head. Telling her what to do and who to be. Pet couldn't resist any of them. She didn't even know why she would want to. She had nothing in her life to compare to being an obedient, brainless fucktoy for Master, and so it was automatically the best thing that had ever happened to her.
And then Master said, "Remember," and suddenly Charlene had everything to compare it to. Memories rushed back in, flowing over the bedrock of programmed obedience that Zane had laid down inside her head while she was under his hypnotic control. She remembered negotiating the scene, she remembered driving with him to the hotel, she remembered putting the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door before he took her down into a profoundly deep trance and emptied out her memories one by one. She remembered school, family, work, friendships... she remembered absolutely everything.
The programming wasn't washed away, though. She could still feel it deep down, far below the surface of her thoughts, informing and instructing her just the way they hoped for when she decided to fully commit to her new life as his brainwashed pet. Zane could reassert that control over her at any time, emptying out her mind and making her feel like a dumb and happy little fucktoy for him to use. He could make her forget how to wear clothes, how to think for herself, how to do anything and everything that wasn't important to a vacant, obedient cockslave like pet. It was... oh fuck, it was so fucking hot.
Because even though Charlene had all the context in the world now, obedience like that remained beyond compare.