The old me would have known what to do next. I can picture her in my mind's eye, see her easy and unshakeable confidence even though I have no idea what she's so confident about--it's like in dreams, when you finally find an old book you've been looking for ever since you were a child, and you know you're seeing the title you've forgotten even though you can't actually read the words? And your whole chest aches with nostalgia when you wake up because you're so sure you remembered it but you don't actually know what it was? That's what it's like looking at myself before Master found me.

Except I don't actually know how to read anymore. It was one of the first things to go, surprisingly enough; I know I used to be a big reader, but once Master got the logins for my social media he kept adding one porn account after another that catered perfectly to all the new fetishes he was giving me, so I wound up spending hours and hours just letting my fingers do the walking while I scrolled through gif after gif of braindead sluts sucking and fucking and jilling themselves stupid until the words became squiggles and my cunt was a leaky mess. It was one of the ways he made me vul... vulner... one of the ways he made me all wet and needy and easy to brainwash.

And it worked so well. I'm so brainwashed now, even though I fought his control and slipped out when he wasn't around to ask me where I was going in that tone of command that always makes me so weak and ditzy and drippy between my legs. I'm outside, and I even kind of managed to put on clothes if you don't count me getting confused about which buttons went with which holes on my shirt and finding the whole idea of panties a little bit too hard to puzzle my way through after I wore my brain out putting on a skirt. But I just... I don't know where to go or what to do now that I'm out here.

And I know I would have known once. A long time ago, months and months ago before I met Master, I would have been able to drive a car or call a friend or talk to someone who would make Master unbrainwash me. I don't know who those people are, not anymore, but I think the old Kenzie would have just figured it out somehow. I want to believe the old Kenzie was so much smarter than me, but she was the one who thought she could let Master into her head for fun and sex and good kinky times without being affected by it, so maybe she was the really dumb one after all.

But she would know what to do here. She wouldn't be sitting on a park bench a few blocks away from Master's place, turned around and completely lost and not seeing any places she knew after spending so long living her whole life in Master's bedroom, trying hard not to hike up her skirt and play with herself because that was what Master taught her to do whenever she tried to think. The woman I used to be would be smarter than that. I wish I knew how to be her again.

I thought I already started, I really did. When I took my fingers out of my pussy and looked at the bedroom door and found myself realizing I could just open it and walk out, I truly believed it was the start of something special inside my fuzzy little brain. For the first time in... god, I don't know, it seems like forever... I didn't just let the thought melt away into sticky pink bliss that made me want to play with myself all over again. I caught it and I held it and I honest to god went through the steps in my head of what a person needed to do to go outside without thinking they were a dopey dum-dum who needed a Master to take care of them.

I put on *clothes.* Okay, yes, Master's clothes--I don't know where any of my clothing is except for a few short slutty skirts I put on when Master likes to flip them up and fuck me from behind--but my dizzy brain knew I had to wear something or the police would just arrest me for being naked in public. And when they found out who I was, they'd find out I lived with Master and he'd come and get me and he'd tell them I was just a dumb slut and he'd make sure I didn't go out without someone to keep an eye on me. And I know I wouldn't have the strength to resist him twice.

The clothes thing was such a big deal. It made me so sure I could figure the rest out, find a street or a house or a store I used to go to and tell them, "I'm living with a man who's been messing with my head, and he's made me all weak and dumb and I need to go away with him before he makes me too horny to fight him any longer." And they would believe me, and they'd find a... I don't know, not a cop because Master never really did anything against the law when he tricked my brain into thinking I wanted to cum more than I wanted to think for myself... but someone who could help me. Maybe one of the friends I kind of drifted away from. Maybe just someone smart and nice.

But now I'm not so sure. Not even 'I'm not so sure there's someone smart and nice out there who would help me,' except maybe I mean that too because men keep walking past me and I know they can tell I don't have a bra on and I keep forgetting to sit so they can't see my pussy under my short skirt--I mean I'm not so sure I should have run away from Master to begin with. The world is so big and scary. So over... over... so much to take in. I keep thinking that if I just stayed in my cozy little nest on the bedroom floor and rubbed myself stupid and let Master take care of me, I might be happier.

Part of me thinks maybe that's what happened to the old Kenzie. Maybe that's how Master got his hooks in her to start with. He didn't brainwash her to be stupid and weak and easy to control; he just gave her the chance to stop thinking and be sexy and let someone else take care of her all the time, and it felt so much better than being in charge of her own life that she was happy to switch her brain off and be a good girl for him. I can't lie, it sounds pretty nice to me right now. But maybe that's my pussy talking.

It's... it's pretty wet right now. And not because I'm out on my own being an inde... in, inde, independ... being free from Master for the first time in ages, either. No, it's wet because I'm thinking about giving up and giving in and trotting back to Master like a meek little girl and the more I think about it, the wetter I get. I want to rub it so bad right now. I want to sneak off into the bushes where no one can see me and I won't get in trouble and play with my pussy until I'm leaky and dumb and being owned sounds like the bestestest thing ever.

But if I do that, I'm lost. This is the most willpower I've had in ages, and I was only able to summon it up because Master was getting com... complace... because, um, Master thought he had me all trained like a good slut and he didn't have to spend as much time brainwashing me anymore. If he gets me back he's going to fuck my mind for weeks and weeks and weeks until I'm so dumb I won't even know what clothes are anymore, and he'll put stuff in my head to make me tell him whenever the old me starts to surface again. I know he will, because I'm going to tell him to, because it makes my clitty throb so hard just thinking about betraying myself to him and giving him ways to make sure I never get away again.

That's when I realize I'm playing with myself, giving my pussy sneaky little rubs while my eyes unfocus and I daydream ways to help Master trap my mind even deeper in his power. It stirs a few old, fuzzy memories, and I realize this is part of how Master got the old me so deep and helpless and brainwashed to obey--he found the part of me that wanted to be owned, wanted it more than the rest of me wanted to be free, and he made her bigger and bigger and stronger and stronger until the rest of me was too weak to resist her anymore. Once he did that, he didn't need to break my will anymore. Because I did it myself.

That's what finally gets me, as I sit there on the bench and spread my legs and sink three fingers into my sopping pussy as the sun goes down and the twilight thankfully hides my shameless lust. The old me I keep picturing, the one who I keep thinking would know what to do in a situation like this... she's the one who gave in and became the new me in the first place. I thought she was so smart and so strong and so sure of herself, but when push came to shove she couldn't stop rubbing her cunt any more than I can. I don't need to wonder what she would do, because she would go back to Master and beg him to take away that last little bit of her will that wanted to be free.

And I'm going to do that, too. The moment I decide to give up and stop fighting, all the confusion in my brain goes away--of course I know where I am. I only thought I didn't because my brainwashed mind didn't want me to escape and it it made my head all fuzzy and dopey and dumb until I sorted it out and got myself ready to go back to the man who owns me. Just one more way I'm already helpless to resist, I guess. I was so silly for thinking the old Kenzie was ever the strong one--the second I started trying to be like her, I started getting weaker.

I stand up, pulling my fingers out of my pussy just long enough to let the skirt fall back down before I slip my hand into the waistband of my skirt and begin rubbing again as I walk back home. It's getting dark enough that I'm not worried about someone spotting me, and I want to reward myself for finally figuring out that what I really wanted was to be a brainwashed fucktoy after all. The old Kenzie thought she was so smart, but it took her almost a year to realize she really just wanted to spread her legs and stick her ass up in the air and get fucked and mounted by her Master. And I put it together in less than a day.

The door's unlocked when I get back, and Master's waiting for me with a patient look on his face that tells me he always knew I couldn't hold out for very long. "I'm sorry I tried to resist you," I say, wriggling out of the blouse and cupping my tits in my hands with a meek, pleading look on my face. "I, um, I got confused about what I wanted because I'm so dumb. Can you please brainwash me harder so I won't ever do it again?"

He chuckles, and I instantly know everything's going to be alright. "Of course, sweetie," he replies, plugging my mouth with his cock before I can say more, and I begin bobbing my head up and down on his shaft in lazy, dozy bliss. I can feel the old me protesting, telling me to fight him, telling me we can still get away... but she's so weak now, and already her voice is fading into sleepy silence. By the time Master shoots his load down my throat, she's already drifted off into mindless pleasure once more. And I couldn't be happier to help keep it that way.

THE END