My mind can’t take much more of this...

Already I can feel it crack and bend along the seems of my consciousness. What I feel is left of my sanity tells me that I should resist, but more and more I’ve come to realize that it may be completely futile to keep fighting.

That maybe I should embrace what is being done to me instead.

The only things I know for certain is that I’m trapped in this room and a man keeps visiting me. Who he might be is a mystery I’ve stopped trying to figure out. The only images I have of him is a silhouette against a bright back drop of pure white light. His face is hidden within his own shadow as the light drowns out his features. 

I only know it's a man because of the voice I hear. 

 

A deep baritone voice that never fails to pull me in as the light pushes me away. The light pulses softly as his soft words and dark silhouette capture my gaze. The push and pull of it feels like a dream..

Or nightmare...

As if its horrible persistence never really happens. But I know it’s real... I’ve experienced it too many times for it to be fake.

I know he keeps visiting me and each time he does, I feel my memories shatter and drift away. Only to return in bits and pieces when the pulsing light fades away and I'm left alone in my room.

Are they even my memories? Or are they complete fabrications he implants within me? The timeline of my life has been broken apart so many times that I can’t make sense of the things I remember.

How long has he kept me locked in this room? Days? Weeks?

Months...

I have no way to know how much time has passed. The only references that are left to me are his visits. But then again, I can’t rely on them too much since I’m convinced he does his best to avoid routines.

Or it feels like he does anyway...

It’s hard to know for sure since I have no real interactions with the man. Some times, when I feel the cracks in my mind inject despair into my soul, I find myself thinking that it’s all in my head. That in reality, I’m completely alone and the man is just a figment of my imagination.

Why wouldn’t he be?

I can’t remember a single time where he came into my room and forced me to do anything. I only have clues to his presence that could easily be my own deranged mind playing tricks on me. But that fear eventually passes as incoherent memories bring me back to the first few moments I woke up in this room.

I might barely remember who I really was before, but I’m certain I would never isolate myself like this. Or would I? Did I sign up for some weird experiment? Or was I brought here against my consent? Both seem so plausible to me now.

But... I think I remember having this vague feeling of being...

Taken...

It stayed with me for the longest time. I remember thinking that I had been kidnapped.

Yet, I can’t remember a single time where he approached me. Touched me...

Maybe he isn't real at all and I'm just experiencing some sort of psychological experiment. 

No... I know he exists... He has to exist... I know he does. He watches me spiral out of my mind within his perfect prison. I can’t say I know what his intentions are, but I know the man isn’t a complete monster.

He brings me delicious healthy meals and plenty of water. I have a warm bed and my own little bathroom. I can’t say he mistreats me. Within the confines of this room, I am perfectly cared for and...

Safe?

The only thing that qualify as mistreatment is the fact that I am confined to this room. 

And of course... That fact that he keeps messing with my mind...

This being said, I do seem to remember things that make me doubt the fact he never touched me. Shattered images of hands on my arms... A sharp prick of a needle on my skin... Aching muscles I can’t explain... 

A hazy memory of pleasure that could just as well be my own over active imagination.

He provides everything I need and that includes clothes. Although, clothes might be the wrong word for the things I wear. The room is plenty warm so I don’t mind the skimpy and revealing outfits. Which I never seem to remember putting on. Does he dress me while my mind is drained away?

Or does he change me when I sleep?

Or... Does he switch out my outfits while I wash myself before making me forget they magically morphed into something else?

I couldn’t say...

All of those possibilities seem probable to me. The only thing I know for sure is that I always have a single outfit at my disposal. Which means that if I don’t want to be naked, I HAVE to wear exactly what he provides for me. Every one seems tailor made to fit my alluring curves. Every article of clothing I find myself wearing is perfectly designed to enhance and display my figure.

It is one of the reasons why I think he may have already touched me. If he was making sure I wore such sexy outfits, it must mean that his plans for me are sexual in nature.

That sacred me at first... Or did it?

I can’t be sure. All I know is that today, in this moment, I don’t feel ashamed or worried about wearing what amounts to be a bunch of straps and a thin tub top. Did I used to wear such things before I came to live in this room? Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't... Both seem equally possibly...

I just can’t be sure.

The pulsing wall of light seems designed to break apart my sanity while his words dig out my thoughts. Every time he visits, I seem to remember less and less...

The only sanctuaries left to me are my dreams. They are the only thing I find I can trust. Or maybe they are the only thing that bring me comfort. I can’t be sure...

Like my memories, I only have flashes and cracked images of what my broken mind dreams about, yet, I always wake up with a vague notion that they weren’t nightmares. A sense of joy and peace always lingers with me as I wake up to my constant impossible reality.

Most of my dreams make me think that deep down, the man hidden in the light wants me. That he placed me in this room to enjoy my body. I keep waking up from erotic dreams that feel so real I almost mistake them for memories.

Or are they pieces of real memories he makes me forget?

Are they fragments of what happens to me? Bubbling up to the surface in the safety of my dreams? I can’t be sure...

Regardless... Real or dreamy fantasy, they afford me a measure of pleasure I always look forward to experience. I lay down in my warm bed hoping I’ll be allowed to remember my dreams, knowing that I probably won’t.

I feel like his mind meddling has driven me to the point where my dreams and my memories are about to crash together and completely break down my own self image. My own conviction about what is real and the false thoughts he implanted feel so much alike now that it is impossible to pull them a apart. 

His patience is what scares and excites me the most. His careful tone of voice and measured visits never fail to capture my mind. Once he’s gone, I always come back to the present confused, but excited. I never know why or how. I’m only left wondering about what is real and what isn’t.

I’m always bewildered as I muse about where he is leading me. Like I feel I know, but can’t bring myself to decide on a fixed destination. My constant sexually explicit attire makes me think this whole thing will be, or has been, sexual in nature. Yet...

I can’t remember him ever touching me, but really, how can I be sure? Does he take advantage of my mindless state as the pulsing light and his soft voice pulls out my mind and leaves me helpless before him?

Has he already enjoyed me? Used me?

Have I already felt him inside me?

Did I want him to fuck me? Does the idea excite or scare me?

I can’t be sure at all...

Nothing feels real anymore and that’s why I know my mind can’t take much more with out completely breaking away from who I was. Very soon, I fear I won’t recover from his little visits and I’ll wake up as a totally different person. 

A person he carefully crafted and nurtured to have the thoughts and desires he wishes me to have.

I can only guess as to who that version of me will be. Will she be anything like the person I was before I was brought here? Or will she be completely different?

How much of my original memories will I keep? If any... 

A chime rings out in the room and instantly, my body move on it’s own. My heart races as I understand that he is coming. I don’t fight the impulses I feel and let them lead me to the far wall. I put my back to it and wait in terrible anticipation for the opposite wall to turn on and shine its disorienting light.

I can’t move... I don’t want to move...

Not anymore.

I’ve come to understand that this must have been his first manipulation. His first unbreakable command he implanted deep into my mind. I stand and wait... Unable to prevent him from pulling out my thoughts with his soft words.

The wall turns on and I gasp as I feel my heart pound even harder in my chest. Is this it? Will this finally break me? Was I scared about losing myself to his mental manipulations?

Or was I excited?

His silhouette appears through the wall of light as his voice calmly started to pull away the threads of my consciousness. He has done this to me so many times that I find myself relaxing instantly. 

The wall pushes and scatters my thoughts as his soft baritone voice pulls me in...

The familiar vertigo sends my mind reeling as my body relaxes and I quietly listen to the man that completely controls every aspect of my life.

Including the exact moment when he decided I would break. I listen helplessly to his voice as he tells me what he is about to do. He tells me how he is about to shatter my mind once again. Just so he can pick and chose the pieces he wants to put back together. 

Finally completing the masterpiece in my soft pliable mind.

I feel my mind slip away from my sanity as he pulls me in for the last time. The last thoughts I have are about how strong his deep voice had become. It has grown into something so powerful that my weak mind can’t possibly resist. 

So I don't.

My sense of self evaporates into the light as I feel the last of my resistance finally drain away. I am so calm as I realize that my former self has figuratively just died. I feel calm because I understand that at long last, I won’t be confused about what is real.

I know that once the light turns off, I will finally be exquisitely complete. 

Sane...

Safe...

Obedient.