She would run into shadows of her former self sometimes- little reminders of who she was before. She didn't mind. It wasn't that Chrissy entirely forgot about her previous life, after all, it just- didn't feel as real to her as her life now.

Cleaning their apartment would often bring these reminders up. Chrissy would tidy the dresser and find a picture of her and her mistress from a year ago. Mistress's arm was around her shoulder and Chrissy's collar was noticeably absent. She'd touch her neck, then, and strain to remember what it had felt like to be without the heavy, reliable pressure there. She could recall it, but just barely.

She'd shove a vibrator in a drawer and have the vague recollection of when it had been HER vibrator. She had once been able to take it out and play with it and even cum from it whenever she wanted. The freedom of that felt dizzying now- and uncomfortable. Chrissy was so horny all the time- it mystified her how she had owned something so potent. Once mistress had unleashed her pleasure and truly shown it to her, there was no way back. She had needed to leash her desires again for Chrissy's own good- otherwise Chrissy would lose days touching and never get anything done.

She'd flip through the closet and find her old business suits- a reminder of a job and an identity that she had never really wanted. She had a memory of feeling so stuck- thinking that experience and inertia had led her to a place without any possibilities. Feeling resigned to walk the same path she had been on because it was the only one she had known.

Her mistress had changed all that. As Chrissy put her diary back on the shelf, she knew she had access to all of its' information - all the old memories and impressions and questions within. Mistress had always ordered her to keep it- it was her first order actually - and wanted her to have it to look back on. None of the memories of her former self were forbidden.

Chrissy had assumed when they started out that she would want to look back more often - to read and keep track of how far her brainwashing had come. What she hadn't anticipated, then, was how unimportant it would seem.

She didn't look back on her old report cards. She didn't look up old girlfriends on social media. She didn't look back at her brainwashing diary.

Those shadows of her former self were still there- they helped make her who she was now.

Who she was now, though, was happy.

Content.

She didn't need to spend her time indulging in shadows.