Last Thursdayism

by nevermind

Tags: #dom:male #m/f #pov:bottom #sub:female

A young woman wakes up and finds herself faced with quite the existential conundrum. But existentialism doesn’t need to be bad when your existence is pleasure and purpose.


The first thing she realized was that she was awake. The second thing she realized was the fact that she remembered absolutely nothing. Nothing at all.

Well, at least she remembered nothing about herself. Everything else, she remembered well enough: She still knew which city she was in. She still knew what day it was. She knew who the president was, and which next big superhero movie was about to hit theaters. She still remembered all the history that someone must have at one point taught her.

She simply didn’t remember who she was.

She looked down at herself and saw white skin all over, framed by strands of long blonde hair. She was naked, and her body looked like she would be, what, mid-twenties? Maybe younger. She couldn’t tell. She was physically fit, at least. But that didn’t help her to determine just who the hell she was. Best guess – from the knowledge she still possessed – was that she was middle-class, educated, caucasian. Possibly college student. Yup. Definitely college student. There was lots of Emily Dickinson and Robert Frost in there. But she couldn’t remember any classrooms or professors. No autobiographical memories at all.

Weird. Well… not that weird. Retrograde amnesia was exceedingly rare, but it did exist. She looked down at herself again. If nothing else, at least she had a really nice body – completely naked, of course. It was the way she was supposed to be. Ready to be used. Ready to obey.

Wait, what? How did she know that? Why had she thought that? She knew that it wasn’t normal to think that. At least for normal people. Most people weren’t like her. Most people weren’t mind-controlled slaves.

Oh.

Wow. Okay. How the hell had she been able to miss the elephant in the room? Crazy, but quite the relief. This explained a lot. For example, why she was tied to a chair with a bright light shining into her face.

“Hello?” she asked the darkness beyond the blinding light. It was quite dark around her of course. She hadn’t questioned that before. But as she finally managed to piece together what she was, things were becoming much more clear. She was beginning to notice the things she was meant to notice. Beginning to remember what she was meant to remember. It was easy once she knew what she was looking for.

“Hello, slave,” a voice said. Male. About her age, maybe. The perfect voice. The one and only voice. She had no memory of it, but she knew it was the one. The one that owned her. The one she belonged to. The one she served. She squeezed her thighs together with delight, and she felt her lower lips moisten.

“Master,” she said without having to think. The word rolled pleasantly across her tongue as if she’d spoken it a million times. Maybe she had. Maybe she’d been like this for years, and Master had wiped her memory again. Maybe she had just been enslaved for the first time. God might have created her five minutes ago to serve her Master. There was no way to tell. No way at all. It didn’t matter – and it didn’t change her understanding or her feelings. She was a slave; that was the only thing that she knew about herself. For all intents and purposes, she had never been anything else.

“Katy?” Master asked after a moment, rousing her from her thoughts.

She frowned. That must have been who she was before. Maybe Master did enslave her for the first time, and was checking if it had worked. For a moment she considered what to say. What would Master expect her to answer? Was he looking for denial? For her to denounce her old self? Was he expecting her not to react to the name at all like a good little slave whose mind had been erased? She was still smart enough to draw the obvious conclusion though, and lying about it was unthinkable, even by omission.

She shrugged. “Don’t remember who that is,” she said. “If that used to be me, there’s nothing left of her, Master. I don’t remember anything. I’m your slave, and I’ve never been anything else.”

She tried to remember anything at all, just to make sure – but she drew a complete blank. Her life had begun in this chair, two minutes ago. Crazy. Good crazy, obviously – but still crazy. If she didn’t have anything comforting to hold on to, it would probably have been quite devastating. She wouldn’t have had any identity at all; no anchor, no compass to orient herself. Thank God she was a slave. Thank God that she had someone to serve and obey. Thank God she knew that her tight body existed to be used. Without that, she might have gone mad. Without that, she would have nothing.

She smiled, and a pleasant shiver rolled down her spine. She felt her nipples harden.

“I am ready to obey you, Master,” she said, stating the obvious. Still, it seemed like a fact that bore clarification, considering how newly enslaved she seemed to be. Master might have doubts if it had worked – whatever it had been that he had done to create her. She dimly remembered looking at a colorful screen of morphing shapes. It was in fact the only memory she had.

“Very good,” Master said, and she licked her lips. He sounded satisfied.

Master was still hidden in darkness, and she couldn’t see him yet. She looked around briefly to see where they were. She was barely able to make out some shapes of pieces of furniture. The room they occupied seemed to be a large living room. The walls were too far away to be visibly illuminated by the tabletop light fixture that Master had pivoted to shine at her. If she squinted, the walls looked like they might be made of wood, and she could hear wind softly whispering beyond.

Maybe he abducted me to his cabin in the woods. It would be a good place to enslave someone.

“Do you want to fuck me straight away?” she asked, opening her legs invitingly. She was wet, of course. She imagined his cock pushing inside her opening, spreading her and penetrating her body. Her mouth watered. She wanted him so badly. She wanted him to use her.

I wonder how Katy felt about this, she thought briefly before she swatted the unwanted thought aside. Katy was unimportant. Utterly irrelevant. If anything, she was glad that she couldn’t remember her. The idea of Katy having existed was disorienting and unnerving, and part of her wished that Master wouldn’t have told her that name.

There were footsteps, and Master came into the light. She gasped as shivers went through her. “Master!” she whimpered. The word had spilled out of her unbidden, like an uncontrolled scream of pleasure. Her pussy shuddered with the unbearable need to offer herself to him.

Master smiled, and her heart filled with love and devotion. He was good-looking, in an unassuming way. No one that you swooned over, but the kind of man you would definitely hook up with after a good third or even second date. He had dark brown hair and a short stubble, and he looked about thirty. He had the slightly disheveled look of a Maths teacher, or maybe an overworked government clerk. She spread her legs further for him, praying that he would see it in her eyes how much she belonged to him.

“I am yours,” she promised, her heart singing and her pussy dancing.

“Oh, Katy,” Master said, and she winced. He was looking at her adoringly, and that should have made her melt. But being called Katy felt so damn wrong. It was the wrong name.

“Master, can you…” she said before she could think better of it. Maybe it wasn’t her place to make demands, but it was already out now. “Can you just call me ‘slave’? I’m not Katy. I’m slave. I don’t remember who Katy was.”

Master blinked and tilted his head, eyes narrowed. He looked away from her for a moment, looking distant. Then he turned back and nodded with a smile that was disappointingly half-hearted.

“Okay,” he said. “Slave.”

Slave’s insides warmed back up. Yes. This was better. It reminded her of what she was now, not what she’d been before. Of course, there must have been a before. She must have been someone else, before she’d been enslaved. Before she’d been made to forget. Probably, the way she was right now was a lot like she was before, except for the obvious difference of being a slave. After all, it seemed like she still had a personality and agency and thought – and it was unlikely that those had been created from scratch.

She shook the thought off. Thinking about all that was useless. She should be here, in the moment, serving Master.

Master untied her arms. When the cable ties came loose, she could see that they had dug deep into her wrists, and her skin was bruised and chafed where they had left their marks.

I must have struggled, she thought. No. Katy had struggled – before time had begun.  Dammit, stop thinking about Katy! You’re a slave, idiot! Just a slave!

Her hands came free, and she immediately leapt out of the chair, into Master’s embrace, pressing her lips against his. He eagerly responded, and clumsily pushed his tongue into her mouth. She took it in, sucking on it, imagining it between her thighs. Imagining his dick between her lips. She was so incredibly wet.

After an eternity of hot lips, she went to her knees and looked up at her Master with wide eyes and a breathless smile. He looked down at her with an appreciative grin, and the world was in perfect order. Slave on her knees, and Master towering above her. She was ready. She was ready to be used. To be fucked. To fuck him. To suck him off. There was nothing else she existed for. Nothing else she wanted. Nothing else she’d ever been.

Except that Katy had been– NO! She didn’t want to think about it. This was everything there was. There shouldn’t be anything outside it.

“Master,” she said to drag herself back into the heat of the moment. “May I suck your cock?” The moment she said it she knew that she wanted nothing more. Serve him. Pleasure him. Be his slut. Be his toy. Be his slave! They were the best, most arousing thoughts in the world.

“Yes, slave,” he said. “Take it in your mouth and make me come.”

She eagerly obeyed and with trembling fingers, she undid his belt and pulled down his pants to reveal the thing she lived for: the hard, turgid cock of her master. He was hard for her. She lived to make him hard, to make him cum. It needed to be inside her, so she opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around it, sliding down its length until it hit the back of her throat. Until it was as far inside her as it would go.

Yesss! she thought as she curled her tongue to caress the hot flesh in her mouth, twisting her head as she slid him back out, and back in, and back out, feeling his foreskin slide back and forth against her tongue, tasting the saltiness of his sweat. Her pussy was on fire. She was so fucking wet. Part of her hoped, prayed, that Master would tell her to stop and command her to spread her legs for him instead, so she could take him inside her cunt. Another part of her got off even more from servicing him without getting fucked herself, putting his pleasure so much before her own.

Master moaned, and slave loved it. She loved it so much. She wanted him to come. She wanted to taste him. She wanted to swallow him. Swallow it all down except for a little bit. Just a little bit to run down her chin so she could look even more used and submissive. This was so fucking good.

“Oh yesss,” Master groaned as slave pulled away to the very end of his dick for a moment, closing her lips around the sensitive tip before immediately plunging it back into her hungering mouth. Master moaned, and she did it again. And again.

“Oh yesss! Yesss! Katy! Yesss!!!”

Slave winced, but she continued pleasuring her master. He’d called her Katy again, and it made her involuntarily wonder who that woman had been.

She hoped that Katy didn’t have too many friends or family. Those people were going to miss her, and taking Katy away from them would be quite cruel. She was still viscerally glad that it had happened. Being a slave was the only thing she was now. She knew that. But Katy had to die for that to happen. Poor Katy.

Master moaned, and slave’s thoughts returned to the correct place, and she savored the wonderful thrill of offering her body as she redoubled her efforts. She soon found that sweet spot again, and Master moaned and trembled, and she zeroed in on it, keeping that rhythm, riding it, making him crest, making him build. He was so fucking hard. He was so fucking hot for her. She was so fucking hot for this. She escalated, slowly, deliberately, desperate to keep him moaning and grunting, desperate to mouth-fuck him as best as she could. She made him scream. She made him shiver. And finally, with a hot eruption in her mouth and in her mind, he came inside of her, and she did exactly what she had wanted: She swallowed his hot load like the obedient little slave that she was. And as he slid out of her mouth, she let the rest of his cum trickle down her lips and down her chin as she looked at him from her knees. She felt so fucking submissive. So fucking owned. So fucking happy.

“Thank you, Master,” she said. “I am your obedient slave.”

Master smiled at her, but there was a disbelief in his expression, as if he was still shocked how utterly enslaved she was. How much she wanted this. It occurred to slave that he’d probably known her as Katy for a while. This must be a huge change for him.

She had a sudden epiphany. Katy wasn’t some far-off, unknowable thing that needed to be avoided at all costs. Katy was the reason that she existed. Katy had been desirable enough for master to enslave her. Surely there had been immense risk involved. Katy must have been quite special. Something inside of her softened up.

“Master. Will you tell me about Katy? I’d like to know about her.”

“What?” he asked.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m utterly happy to be what I am, and I’m glad that you enslaved her. But no matter how glad I am to be a slave, it’s a little bit sad that she’s gone. I’d like to remember her.”

“Knowing about your old life might destabilize you.”

“But it’s not my life. Katy is someone else,” she said. “When you call me Katy, I feel nothing. Nothing at all. Telling me about her isn’t the same as making me remember.”

Master said nothing, but he looked hesitant.

“If you tell me about her, I could pretend to be her,” she said. “I want to be as hot and as good for you as I can be, and you wanted Katy, didn’t you?”

Master swallowed heavily. He looked quite shaken all of a sudden. He was looking at her like he’d seen a ghost. More worryingly, it almost looked like he’d realized that he’d made a mistake.

“I…” he stammered, brows furrowing. “Fuck. What the fuck have I done? This is so messed up.”

Oh no.

“I’m sorry, Master! I’m sorry for suggesting this. I didn’t mean to–”

“Stop,” Master said, voice heavy. “Please stop.”

Slave obeyed.

Master looked at her intensely, saying nothing for a long while. He was obviously thinking hard on how to proceed. Slave’s insides were in a knot. Would he undo what he had done now? Please, no! She wanted to serve him! She wanted to be his slave! Or would he wipe her again, and avoid mentioning Katy the second time around? She could live with that.

Maybe this had already happened before? Maybe he already wiped her again. Probably not, judging by Master’s reaction. But not impossible. The thought of being overwritten over and over again gently tickled slave’s pussy. Being helpless and pliable like that was what made her such a hot, obedient tool.

After a while Master shook his head, but his expression was more quiet acceptance than frustration.

“Fuck,” he said. “You’re probably right. About everything. Jeez. This is bending my brain, but I guess part of why I wanted you was because you’re so bright. Well done, looks like you’ve thought this through better than I ever did. Get up. Let’s sit on the couch. I’ll tell you about her.”

Slave obeyed. She stepped out of the light and into the darkness. It took her only a moment to accommodate once the lamp was no longer blinding her. The indirect light illuminated the space well enough otherwise. She noticed a small TV in one corner of the room, as well as a small kitchen in the other. It was in fact a wood cabin. She saw two doors that presumably led to the bathroom and… the bedroom. Fuck yes, she couldn’t wait to go there. Not that she needed a bed to be naked and ready to be fucked.

She sat down on the couch that stood in the middle of the large space. Master had commanded her to, and even obeying him in such a trivial way gave her a tiny high.

“I’m in this much more deeply than you, master,” she said as she sunk comfortably into the cushions, and she couldn’t help but smile at the sudden casualness of their interaction. Part of her hoped that Master would change his mind and fuck her right there on the couch – but he’d probably have to take a moment to recover before he was ready to use her again. “It’s not surprising that I have insights that you don’t,” she said.

Master sat down next to her, his eyes fixed on her. She arched her back to best present her tits for him. She loved the way it felt to be naked for him. She was so incredibly lucky to be born into this life.

Master still looked apprehensive, and it broke slave’s heart.

“If you’re sorry, don’t be,” she said. “This is wonderful. I love this. I love it so much. But Katy doesn’t deserve to be forgotten. Just start me off with something small, but something that I would just have to remember. If there’s anything in me to be destabilized, I’ll let you know immediately.

Master scoffed, shaking his head.

“You know, this wasn’t how imagined you turning out.”

“How–”

“–but it makes total sense. I didn’t make you mindless. Only obedient and eager.”

Oh God, yes! she thought. Her pussy contracted as a pleasant shiver went up her spine. Maybe, one day, she’d get used to the overwhelming correctness of it all. Maybe she’d get used to how much it constantly turned her on. But if that day was ever going to come, it wouldn’t be anytime soon. That much was for sure. This was so fucking good.

“Yesss, Master,” she moaned, and a broad smile curled across her lips. “I like it when you say that. Just tell me how obedient I am if you ever want me instantly wet.”

Master swallowed before he continued. “Good girl. Here’s the first thing I’m gonna tell you about Katy. Her last name was Andrews.”

Slave smiled even wider.

“No. Doesn’t ring a bell at all. For all I know, you could be making her up.”

Maybe I’m not even her, she suddenly thought. Maybe I’m just someone who looked like the Katy he wanted to possess. The idea was horrifying in the same way that it was arousing. The idea of being completely erased to become nothing but a placeholder that Master could fuck. That would make her so much more of a thing that only existed for him. That would mean that she literally only existed for her hot, Katy-shaped body.

Probably not. Occam’s razor. Still, the idea was fucking hot.

“Okay,” Master said after carefully watching her for a moment. “Let’s go bigger then: Katy lost her parents in a car crash when she was eleven.”

Slave thought long and hard and really tried to open herself up to the idea that she was Katy. It was her parents that had died. She tried to remember policemen, or grandparents, or a funeral.

Nothing. Nothing at all. Good.

“Nope;” she said. “Total stranger. Poor Katy, though. Feel sorry for her. Must have been terrible. I can’t imagine losing someone that important in your life. Well… at least we won’t have to worry about her parents looking for her.”

Master smiled meekly, and he eyed her for another few seconds.

“Looks like you were right, slave. There’s really no link to your former identity.”

“She died for a good cause,” slave said. Master winced, and she immediately regretted what she’d said. “I mean… she’s…”

But there really wasn’t a way around it, was there? Katy was no longer there, was she? And if slave had to choose between herself and Katy, there was just no question at all. What happened to Katy was sad, but without it slave wouldn’t exist. Without it, she wouldn’t be here to obey and serve and she wouldn’t be feeling so good and so horny and so correct. Without her, she wouldn’t–

“Slave,” master interrupted her in her thoughts, and she immediately snapped to attention.

“Yes, Master?”

“You’re wrong, slave. Katy’s not dead. I mean, look at you. The way you talk. The way you overthink. The way you… the way you tilt your damn head when you’re thinking. I wanted her, slave. And I got her. You’re her. Not having her memories doesn’t make that go away.”

“But… I don’t want to be her,” slave said in a small voice, looking down at her lap. “I want to be only your slave. Nothing else. Nothing so… diluted.”

Master laughed. “Fuuuuck,” he said, shaking his head. “This is all so messed up.”

Yes. Probably. Definitely. But slave didn’t give a fuck if she was mind-fucked beyond repair or reason. That’s who she was. It was the only thing she’d ever been. The only thing she knew. The only thing that made sense.

“Why do you think that being Katy would be… diluting you?”

“I…,” she began. It was just… true. She was only a slave. Nothing but a slave. She was nothing else. She had come into existence half an hour ago.

But on the other hand, not remembering didn’t mean it wasn’t true. Who was she to deny what Master knew about her? Who was she to deny the woman that she’d been made from? Obviously, she hadn’t been created from thin air – so why was it so hard to accept that?

“It’s just… it was axiomatic until you just told me differently. It’s a very big idea to me. It’s like I told you that you used to be a French investment banker before someone turned you into a baby and gave you to your mom.”

Master chuckled. “Huh. I see.”

“And here’s the thing,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “I can’t really be her ever again. There’s bound to be things that only she knew. Things she never told anyone. Those memories are gone, aren’t they? For good.”

“Yes,” Master said hesitantly, almost regretfully.

“Also, If I was truly her, I’d probably be crying and screaming and kicking you in the dick, instead of desperately wanting it between my legs.”

Master licked his lips, and for a moment she enjoyed the fact that she’d turned him on again. His gaze wandered down her naked body for a moment, and she spread wide for him, gyrating her hips. He probably wouldn’t take her before they were done talking, but there was always hoping. Her pussy quivered when she imagined him entering her and using her. But surely enough, his gaze returned to her face, and she continued.

“You’re right, though. I’m her. What else could I be? I’m just… a different version.”

As soon as she said it, something settled inside of her. Something that felt incredibly foreign yet at the same time strangely comforting, like a new pair of shoes that immediately fit.

Of course, she was Katy. She had been enslaved, and been made to forget her life. She was glad it happened. Being so removed from what she’d been before made her so much better at being nothing but Master’s eager slave. It made it so much easier to offer herself. So much easier to be a set of readily available holes that master could fuck. Fuck, yes!

Master would tell her much about who she’d been before, but she would always have that wonderful chasm between who she was and who she’d been. No way back. No possible way to ever think of herself as anything else than what she was: Nothing but a slave. Nothing but an obedient sex puppet.

She didn’t feel sad anymore. There was no more old Katy to feel sad for. There was only herself, and the thing she knew she’d been. The thing she no longer was. The thing that didn’t matter anymore, because she was still Katy, and Katy wanted this more than life. Katy knew that she was nothing but a slave. Katy knew that she existed to serve and obey. Katy got off on it. Katy was wet for it.

Katy sighed happily as she realized how much more meaningful her obedience had just become, now that she knew that it was in fact her that obeyed. She looked up at her Master.

“Katy wants to fuck you, Master. Katy is your slave. Katy is your whore. She loves it. She can’t imagine anything else. It’s everything she is. I’d love it if you could tell me who I used to be before you enslaved me. I want to be as close to her as I can, so you can know without a doubt that it’s her who’s spreading her legs for you.”

She leaned forward and took his hand, and dragged him towards her as she laid on her back and spread her legs wide. She was wet. She was ready. And, judging from what she saw when she looked down between Master’s legs, so was he.

“It’s me. I’m here. Take me like the slave I am,” she said, and Master did.


THE END

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