“Hey, what was your name again?”

I was already sighing long-sufferingly within a second of Sir’s sentence. “Ahh, I know what you’ve done.”

He gave me his usual look of badly-faked innocence. “What d’you mean?”

“Well, I don’t know my name. And you obviously took it. That subtle question was a dead giveaway!”

He looked for a moment as if he was going to keep denying it, but then chuckled and held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Alright, it’s a fair cop.”

I arched my eyebrows at him expectantly. “Well? Can I have it back?”

“See if you can remember it, first,” he said with a smile.

I threw up my hands in a what-the-fuck gesture. “I mean, I definitely won’t be able to!”

His smirk grew more pronounced. “Try.”

Grumbling under my breath and trying to hide my grin, I planted my elbows on my thighs and my face in my hands, and gazed into space, trying to think. It wasn’t a very successful endeavour, as I’d anticipated. Try as I might, his hypnotic hold over my mind and memories was simply too strong. If my name was still in my brain, it was tucked away on a high shelf, out of my reach.

All the while, I was very aware of Sir, who was perched on the edge of the armchair, wearing a short-sleeved black T-shirt and a green-and-black tartan skirt (for today he felt a bit more femme), staring unabashedly at my nude body. It was typical - he tended to ignore me whenever I wanted his attention the most, but when I wanted him to leave me be, he perved on me endlessly. These were deliberate strategies, I was sure - Sir always did whatever he thought would frustrate me the most.

Like stealing my memory of my fucking name, for instance.

“I mean, it could literally be anything,” I exclaimed. “Anything. I’ve got nothing. I don’t even know what it starts with.”

“D’you want a clue?” he teased.

I gave him a withering look. “That’d be nice...”

“It’s water-themed.”

I blinked, and then blurted, “Why was my first thought ‘piss’?”

We both burst out laughing. “A-answer me that,” I hooted, tears of mirth in my eyes. “Wh-why did my brain immediate- immediately go to ‘piss’?!”

“Don’t - don’t ask me,” Sir spluttered, clutching his sides. “Nothing to do with me! ‘Piss’. You’re so silly.”

“That’s fair,” I gasped, flapping my hands at my face to try and regain my composure. “OK, OK, serious answers. So, there’s River, Lake... um, Lily... Brooke... hmm...”

“Piss,” Sir suggested with a snigger.

I snorted. “Yeah, sure, that’s on the list. Er - Marina... Isla...” I thought hard for a moment. “That’s it, that’s all I’ve got.”

“I’m impressed you came up with that many,” he remarked, reclining in his armchair. “More than I’d thought of.”

“Yeah, but I’m still none the wiser,” I complained, smiling self-consciously. “None of them sound familiar... Go on then, tell me. Which one is it?”

“Well, actually it’s Rain - drops.”

“Ha-uhhngh...”

I jolted, my head jerking back as if the trigger had struck me in the centre of my forehead, my eyes crossing upwards towards that spot before rolling out of control. “Nn-ngh drops, Rain dro-dro-drops, Rain drooooh-ps,” I mumbled, my voice increasingly slurred, as my head lolled forwards and I slowly toppled sideways, landing in a crumpled heap on the couch cushion. I drifted deep, drooling from the corner of my mouth, still softly murmuring my mantra as best I could, as Sir spoke to my subconscious, shaping my thoughts while I was too far away to hear him.

I woke with a start, becoming aware of my undignified sprawl across the sofa. Blinking away the hypno haze, I heaved myself upright, wiping my face with the back of my hand. I didn’t expect to remember what we’d been discussing before he dropped me, but to my surprise the memories were clear in my mind - or as clear as they ever are, since Sir smoothed my brain with his hypnotic hold.

My priority was to check whether he’d returned what had been stolen from me. To my relief, my name came to me in an instant. “Thank you!” I said to him, keeping a bit of pique in my tone, my hands on my hips, to show I was still slightly peeved by its theft in the first place.

“You’re welcome,” he grinned, undaunted by my stern look. “Now, what was your name?”

“Piss.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yep, positive.”

I breathed in and out contentedly. After the frustration of forgetting it, the satisfaction of recalling my name was huge. Names are the most crucial part of our identity, aren’t they? Without them, it’s hard to know who we are. I’d felt off-kilter, unsure of myself, flustered and helpless, without that foundational fact to support my sense of self. Now I remembered I was Piss, I had solid ground beneath my feet again.

I noticed Sir’s lips twitching, as if he was struggling not to smile. “What?”

“No, nothing,” he said, a slight quaver in his tone. “It’s a lovely name.”

I beamed. “Thank you! I think so too.”

“Where’s it from? Like, what country, or language...?”

“I think it’s Greek, actually - or Turkish,” I said thoughtfully. “Like, there’s a village in Cyprus called Pissouri, so I think it’s derived from that...”

He shook his head in apparent amazement. “Wow. That’s, that’s really fascinating, Piss...”

“I know, right? It’s kind of exotic, and unique, around here.” I was warming to my theme, enjoying his interest - I liked talking about my name. “You don’t meet many people called Piss, do you?”

“Can’t say I ever have, before. What does it mean?”

“‘Stream of water’.”

“Mm-hmm.” He arched an eyebrow at me. “Doesn’t have any other meanings, that you can think of?”

I blinked, nonplussed. “Er, no. I don’t think so.”

“Mmm. Well, it’s, uh, it’s a nice name. Very pretty.”

I smiled, the compliment filling me with warmth. “Thanks! Yeah, it is, isn’t it? I like how sibilant it is. You can kind of hiss it.” I demonstrated, “Pissss...”

For some reason, he looked like he was trying not to laugh. “You don’t find anyone struggles to maintain bladder control when you do that?”

I did a double take, caught completely off guard by the bizarre question. “No. Why would they?!”

“Oh, no reason, Piss...”

His barely-suppressed mirth was really starting to bother me. “Mate, I feel like you’re taking the mick out of my name, somehow -”

“You mean I’m taking the piss out of it?” he quipped quickly.

I gave him another look of bewilderment. “What’s that even supposed to mean?! Look, it’s not cool,” I continued, without waiting for an answer. “There are lots of things about me that you can make fun of...” I took a deep breath, already blushing at the sentence I was about to say. “Me being a hopelessly mindfucked slave under your control, for instance, that’s definitely fair game... But please, don’t make fun of my name. I love my name. I’m proud of it.”

Sir made an effort to look contrite. “You’re right, Piss, that was unnecessarily rude of me. I apologise.”

His remorse seemed sincere enough, so I decided to let it go. I couldn’t really resent him for being a bit disrespectful from time to time. He clearly didn’t mean to cause offence. As an SEN teacher, I had plenty of experience making allowances for neurodivergent people like Sir. “Thank you,” I said simply, putting the matter behind us.

“I’m glad you love your name,” he continued. “You should be proud of your name. Although I don’t know how proud you’ll be when you realise.”

I was about to ask what he meant when everything suddenly became very clear to me, and my mouth dropped open. “Oh. Oh, no. Noooo! Oh my God,” I groaned, hiding my face in my hands.

There was an extended pause before either of us spoke again - he was too busy pointing and laughing at me, while I was too busy cringing into my palms.

“I can’t believe you did that,” I finally whimpered.

“I know,” he cackled, completely unrepentant. “I think I might actually be a supervillain!”

“‘Super’? Don’t flatter yourself,” I snarked, finally making eye contact. “Oh - and I can’t believe I thought it was from Cyprus! Where did I get ‘Pissouri’ from, I’ve never even heard of it...”

“Oh, that was me, I gave you that,” he clarified. “It’s a real place, it’s a village. I actually did a quick Google search while you were in trance, to see if there was anything you could take the name from...”

“Very clever,” I said drily.

He gave me a look of adoration, completely ignoring the glare he was getting in return. “You were so convinced. And you got so defensive when I made fun of you! You really believed it was your name, didn’t you?”

Flustered, my baleful gaze faltered, and I cast my eyes downwards again, at my fingers fidgeting in my lap. “I really did, yeah,” I admitted in a small voice. It was crazy, but I had to concede that mere minutes ago, I was absolutely certain my name was Piss. I couldn’t imagine it not being my name. And I had no memory at all of any negative connotations - I just thought it meant ‘stream of water’, instead of a rather different kind of stream.

If he’d left me like that, I would probably have quite happily gone about my normal life, acting as I always do, but under the impression that my name was Piss. I might’ve introduced myself to people as Piss. I might’ve reacted with confusion if friends and family addressed me as ‘Rain’, not recognising it as my name... and I might’ve ‘corrected’ them. Oh fuck, the thought of that... So mortifying. So awful. And even worse, because imagining it - imagining helplessly, obliviously humiliating myself in front of my loved ones, none of whom know how brainwashed I am... was really turning me on.

As I blushed and squirmed and tried to hide my shameful, inexplicable arousal (which is difficult to do when you’re starkers), Sir continued, “You’re incredible, Rain. You always surprise me, in the best ways, taking these embarrassing suggestions so well...”

His tender tone and earnest praise were not helping with my emotional turmoil. “Thanks,” I mumbled, my cheeks burning. “You surprise me too. With how horrible you are to me, and my poor weak mind. Don’t be mean to my mind. What did my mind ever do to you?”

“Nothing,” he snickered. “Nothing at all. I love your mind. It’s such a good mind. It’s so wonderfully weak, and compliant, and malleable...” I mewled softly, wrapping my arms around my naked body and rocking back and forth, lust boiling between my legs. “I just can’t help myself,” his voice continued over my noises. “I can’t help playing with such a fantastically receptive mind, so cooperative and impressionable and defenceless -”

“OK, OK, you’ve made your point,” I protested feebly.

“I just have so much fun interfering with your thoughts and your memories,” he continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. “I had so much fun changing your name. I’m sure it’ll be just as entertaining next time.”

My eyes widened. I stared at him in horror, biting the insides of my cheeks to suppress my mortified smile. “No. No... Please, please don’t,” I stammered, raising my hands tentatively as if to calm a wild animal.

He just smiled at me. Calm, collected, unwavering.

“No no no listen, listen, please...” I slipped off the sofa and dropped to the carpet, walking on my knees towards him with my hands clasped together and held out before me. “I, I’ll give you all my worldly possessions, you can move in and, and take over the lease and kick me out of my own bed and make me sleep on the floor...”

Coming to a halt right in front of him, between his parted legs, I remained in my prayer pose, pouting pleadingly up at his impassive face. “You can have all my money, and like, take full control of my life, and I’ll be your live-in servant in my own home... I, I give you my mind and my body and my free will, and I’ll just be your, your personal maid and cook and, and sex doll and blowjob dispenser... OK? Everything I have is, is yours, and everything I am is yours... just...”

I dissolved into laughter. “Just please don’t make me think my name is Piss!” I cackled, stricken all of a sudden by the absurdity of this situation. I was literally on my knees begging for my friend not to wipe all memory of my real name and replace it with something ridiculously embarrassing, just for fun. What even is my life?!

He waited for me to compose myself, watching me with that serene, self-assured smile. “But you already gave me those things, love,” he said at last, his tone totally matter-of-fact. “I already own you, and all your possessions. You’re already mine.”

I gulped. “Oh, yeah,” I squeaked, and bowed my head, unable to look at him, overcome with helplessness and arousal as it hit home that I had literally nothing to bargain with. I’d given him total control over me, total ownership of myself and all my belongings. I was his, to do with as he wished. If he wanted to make me think my name was Piss again, he could, easily. I could neither stop him, nor persuade him otherwise, nor offer him anything in exchange for sparing me that utter humiliation.

I kept begging anyway, for want of a better course of action. “But c’mon, c’mon please, it’s so mean...”

His legs suddenly closed around me, and I let out a tiny, pathetic yelp as I felt his thighs cushioning my cheeks, the pressure on either side of my face instantly rendering me as meek and docile as a kitten. I stared up at him, dumbstruck, as he reached down and stroked stray strands of hair out of my face, his smile widening.

“Your mind is so weak,” he chuckled softly.

“My mind is so weak, Sir,” I mumbled in agreement, irresistibly compelled to reiterate his words.

“You have no free will.”

“I have no free will, Sir,” I repeated helplessly.

Reaching under the front of his tartan skirt, he tugged his pants aside, saying at the same time, “You are powerless for pussy.”

I gasped as my eyes fell on his spellbinding slit, sinking into open-eyed slumber at the sight of it. “I am powerless for pussy, Sir,” I sighed.

“Good girl. Now, I’ll be kind and let you keep your actual name for the time being, my sweet little Raindrops -”

“Aah Rain drops Rain drops Rain droppps,” I gurgled, gaping fixedly at the vision before me, as hopelessly lost in Sir’s snatch as if I were staring at a spiral. My mind was laid bare before him, open and defenceless and malleable, awaiting his alterations.

“That’s right, good girl, deeper and deeper.” His fingers kept gently running through my hair, the soothing strokes sinking me even further and faster. “As I was saying, you can keep your name for now - but I’m going to give you a trigger, and whenever you hear me and only me say it, you’ll believe once again that your name is, and always has been, Piss. If you understand, just keep on dropping for me.”

“Rain drop-drop-dropsss,” I slurred.

“Very good girl. When you awaken, you’ll have no knowledge of the trigger - it’ll remain hidden in your subconscious from now on. The trigger is ‘streaming service’.” I heard him chortle to himself a million miles above me. “Because, little stream, you always give me the best service. Now, if you understand and accept your trigger, and it’s all green with you, you can go deeper into my pretty pussy, and be a good little streaming service for me.”

“Raaaaindrops,” I said aloud once more, my favourite mantra echoing around my empty head as I buried my face beneath Sir’s skirt, eager to confirm to him that my latest trigger was firmly engraved on the inside of my smooth brain.