Vicky had been waiting patiently for her Mistress to return home. She’d had a day off, so she’d listened to a pre-recorded induction Samantha had made for her a while back, turning her back into the dumb, compliant submissive that hid within her. She thought it would be a nice way to greet her Mistress - if not a nice surprise, because it was far from the first time she’d done it.

But this time, Samantha’s reaction was less enthusiastic than Vicky had hoped. Her shoulders were slumped as she entered their apartment, her eyes downcast. She dumped her bag in the hallway and turned to see her slave waiting eagerly to greet her in the living room doorway, clad in her underwear and collar.

“Welcome home, Mistress!” Vicky chirped. “How may I serve you?”

“Oh, hi, Vicky,” Samantha mumbled disinterestedly, barely sparing her a glance as she shuffled past in the direction of their bedroom.

Vicky frowned. Something was definitely wrong. “You seem very... downbeat, Mistress. What would you like me to do to make you feel better? You know I’ll do anyth-”

“Look, can you just not, right now?” Samantha snapped.

Vicky reeled, taken aback.

Samantha seemed just as shocked by her own outburst. Her eyes glinted with tears. Muttering barely coherent apologies, she practically sprinted down the hallway. A minute later, Vicky heard the bedroom door slam.

The confused and concerned submissive stared down the corridor after her girlfriend. She reminded herself not to take Samantha’s exclamation personally - something must have upset her at work. Samantha taught at elementary school, and she usually loved her job, though occasionally she’d vent to Vicky about stressful days or problematic students. But she didn’t think she’d ever seen Samantha so disconsolate after work. Something must have happened.

Vicky knew she had to do something to help Samantha. She also knew that her eager slave demeanour had just annoyed and upset her, and that her brainpower was currently too limited for her to be of much use or comfort. No, right now Samantha needed Victoria, not Vicky. But she wouldn’t be in any fit state to hypnotise her out of this mental state.

Luckily, one of the few things Vicky knew was how to turn herself back into Victoria. She didn’t usually remember that, because, honestly, she never really wanted to turn back, so the information stayed hidden in her subconscious. (Vicky was briefly impressed with herself for remembering the big word ‘subconscious’. And ‘demeanour’, for that matter.) But this was an emergency, so now the knowledge had suddenly come back to her, like one of those lightbulb moments from cartoons.

She now remembered that she had a trigger phrase that would turn her back. And though she didn’t know what the phrase was, she knew it was written down somewhere... On a sticker, on the bottom of the wall mirror that hung in the living room.

She soon found it, and as she read the randomly-chosen words - ‘Sierra hills list’ - she felt doors opening inside her mind, and memories and knowledge pouring back in. Standing up straight, Victoria shook her head, clearing the cotton candy from her brain, and breathed in and out deeply.

OK, I’m back in the room, she said to herself. And Samantha needs me.

***

Samantha’s face was in her pillow, which was damp with tears. She heard the bedroom door open, and moments later she felt strong arms slip around her torso and a warm body press against her back.

“It’s me,” her girlfriend said, and Samantha knew instantly from the tone of voice that Victoria was back to herself. She’d brought herself out of ‘slave mode’, which she loved, to be there for her. Samantha nearly started crying again at the thought of it.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Victoria continued, her soft, deep voice like velvet in Samantha’s ears. “But I want to help, if I can...”

Samantha rolled over to face her girlfriend, meeting her worried eyes. She took a deep breath. “A - a parent yelled at me today,” she whispered. “That hasn’t happened before... She came in specifically to yell at me, because she didn’t like what I was teaching her son.”

“What?” Victoria was clearly struggling to contain her rage. (That was another reason she enjoyed being Vicky: Victoria was often quick to anger, and she didn’t like that about herself.) “What could she possibly object to?”

Samantha shrugged mournfully. “The usual stuff. I mean, this lady was definitely a Trump supporter, if y’know what I mean.”

“Oh, fuck...”

“Yeah, exactly. My whole existence is probably a problem for her. She didn’t like her son learning about black history, and the benefits of vaccines, and LGBT+ issues... I mean, I bet she knows I’m dating a woman - that’s probably why she took issue with me specifically. It’s not like the other teachers are teaching anything different.”

“I can’t believe we still have to deal with these people,” Victoria fumed. “It’s so unfair - especially for you! All you’re trying to do is teach children, for God’s sake!”

“Right? Oh, and for the record, her son is delightful. Easily one of my nicest, smartest, best-behaved students, and he’s soaking up what I teach him like a sponge. Which must piss her off big time. I honestly don’t know how they can even be related...”

“Well, I hope you kicked this bitch in the face,” Victoria muttered. “I mean, not really, because you’d lose your job. But I’m still strongly picturing you doing it.”

Samantha giggled weakly - as tearful as she still was, it sounded more like a hiccup. “You’d have been proud of me, babe - I stood up for myself, and calmly but firmly defended myself... using my words, not my fists or feet! In the end she stormed off, still yelling insults, knowing I’d won the argument by being rational and, y’know, sane.” She started to bury her face in the pillow again. “After she left, though, I just got overwhelmed, and I started crying. It was just... a lot. First time a parent’s lost their shit with me - it just hit me hard. I’ll be OK after a while.”

Victoria smiled sympathetically. “I know you will. But hopefully I can help make that ‘while’ as short as possible...” She shuffled a little bit nearer to Samantha, closing the gap between them. Her bra was touching Samantha’s white sweater.

“Who do you want me to be tonight?” she asked gently. “Victoria, or Vicky?”

“Honestly... I don’t care either way,” Samantha sighed. “Just... look after me? Please?”

“Of course. That’s what good slaves - and good girlfriends - do.” Victoria kissed Samantha gently on her forehead, and pulled her into a tight embrace. “I’m here for you, baby. Always.”

“I know,” Samantha mumbled, a small, grateful smile appearing on her face. “Thank you. I love you so much.”