Jamie awoke in darkness. There was something over her face--she didn't know what it was, but it felt almost like a pair of diving goggles strapped to her head. But whatever they were, they were completely opaque, blocking out any light from reaching her eyes. She didn't remember putting them on... in fact, as her brain began to emerge from the dim and distant void of sleep, she didn't remember where she was or how she'd gotten there. The longer she struggled to grasp at the last clear memory before her descent into fuzzy blackness, the further it seemed to recede, until Jamie gave up altogether lest she slip back into drowsy slumber all over again.
She decided to focus on the present, starting with removing those goggles and--and that was when Jamie got her second surprise. When she tried to reach up and pull the strange glasses from her face, her wrist jerked to a halt after moving only a fraction of an inch. An experimental tug confirmed that her other hand was bound in the same way, cuffed in place by some sort of padded material that she couldn't feel as anything other than a vague softness. Her ankles were locked down too... and her chest, her thighs, her upper arms, and even her head. Jamie was pinned in position. She didn't remember how it happened. She didn't remember anything.
She couldn't feel anything, either, she realized. It wasn't just her wrists; everywhere she wriggled, Jamie noticed something thin and stretchy coating her body and preventing her from registering any kind of sensation other than pressure. She was wearing some sort of... latex bodysuit? Jamie didn't know how she would even know what a latex bodysuit was. None of the information in her head seemed to have any context. But she could picture it clearly, a woman's body enfolded in gleaming rubber from head to toe leaving only her eyes, nose and mouth free, and she knew instantly that she was wearing something just like the image in her head.
The longer Jamie waited, her other senses stretching out to glean every iota of information they could in the absence of sight, the more she noticed tiny details of sensory impression that informed her strange situation. The latex had a gap right between her involuntarily parted thighs, allowing her to feel cool air on her pubic mound. She could hear breathing, even when she held her breath for a moment, and she realized that she wasn't alone in the room--wherever and whatever 'the room' was. There was a second person there. They were watching her squirm and wiggle and try to free herself. They could see her cunt. They knew she couldn't see them.
It should have made Jamie want to scream. But somehow, the part of her brain that understood her situation seemed utterly disconnected from her emotional reactions. Jamie felt numb, disassociated, like she was merely a passenger inside her own body. Perhaps it was the lack of contextual information again--Jamie could understand what a kidnapping was, what happened to women when they were locked into a horizontal bondage frame with their genitals open and exposed, even for some reason what a horizontal bondage frame was. But she couldn't connect it back to her memories.
Because she didn't have them. It seemed so odd, putting it openly like that. But it was true. Jamie couldn't remember a thing about herself. Childhood was merely a collection of dry facts about what typical families were like, school had been reduced to an abstract understanding of the concept of education, and the experiences of adult life were a vague and inchoate blur. The things that made Jamie a unique individual were simply... gone. She felt like she should be panicked by that, but again, all she seemed capable of was a numb fascination. How had she gotten to this point?
Before she could answer, the other person in the room finally spoke. "Awake again, I see." It was a man's voice. Surprisingly, Jamie felt a tiny throb of arousal spark in her clit at the sound. "Let's see what kind of progress you've made, pet. How much is left of you?" He spoke to her with a calm, confident tone of command, as though he'd had this conversation or one just like it enough times that he knew he could compel her to answer. Jamie thought about staying silent, just to show that she could, but it didn't seem worth continuing on in the silent darkness just to prove a point. She decided to respond.
"My name," she said, noticing as she spoke that her mouth wasn't dry or parched. Whoever it was, they'd at least been keeping her hydrated through all this. "Jamie. I, I don't know whether that's a first or a last name, but I think it's the first. I, um... I remember a few things. Scraps and fragments. Your voice r--" She paused, realizing that she was just about to say 'rubs my clit'. The words seemed remarkably difficult to dislodge from her head. "Rings a bell," she said at last with great effort.
"It doesn't sound like there's much to take away anymore," the stranger said, his voice getting closer. She felt his hand pressing on the goggles for a moment, and suddenly the darkness sprang into vivid, multi-colored life as Jamie found herself floating into an endless tunnel of swirling light that surrounded her in every direction. "But I think I want it all."
It wasn't a pair of diving goggles on her head, not even ones spraypainted black. It was a VR headset. Jamie was trapped in a virtual environment designed to... to hypnotize her? Jamie suddenly recognized a surprising gap in the vague and abstract knowledge base she'd been drawing on for all this, a complete absence of solid fact about the craft of mesmerism. All she could think about was silly old vampire movies, or dumb television shows from the 1970s where Charlie's Angels or the Bionic Woman were brainwashed into trying to shoot the President or something. She couldn't separate the myths of total control of an unwilling subject from her knowledge of trance. It felt oddly deliberate, as though someone wanted her to believe that she could be conditioned to become an obedient slave.
But of course, someone did. Jamie tried to blink away the whirling patterns in front of her, but something tracked her eye movements and brightened every time her eyelids shut. It made the illusion of endless depth seamless and irresistible. Jamie didn't expect to find her clit suddenly pulsing with arousal at the word 'irresistible', but it happened. And it happened again when she thought about it happening. And it happened again when she tried to examine the sensation in her mind, until she slowly and distantly realized she was just thinking the word 'irresistible' over and over and over while the lights consumed her attention.
She might have spent hours like that, but she was distracted by the sensation of something cool and ever so slightly rough pressing against her pussy. "You can already feel it, can't you, pet? Your thoughts are attenuating, floating away into the endless void in all directions and leaving you behind with my programming. Your will, your volition, your ability to think any thought that your Master hasn't placed into your empty head... it's all just drifting now, and no matter how hard you try, you can't chase it down." The object against her cunt began to thrum with vibration. "You can't even find it in the colors."
Jamie whimpered, the pleasure in her clit suddenly intensifying into a powerful throb of intense bliss that made her squirm and writhe against her cuffs. The sensation felt all too familiar, and Jamie wondered how many times she'd experienced exactly this same situation under the watchful attention of the stranger she couldn't see. When had she lost her last name? When had her memories of her kidnapping faded slowly into oblivion, to be replaced with conditioned arousal at the sound of her captor's voice? How long had she been here? How much of her mind even belonged to her anymore?
She had somehow imagined that understanding would bring with it a renewed urgency, that once it sank in that she was being hypnotized and brainwashed into forgetting everything about herself and giving up any ability to resist then surely she would be energized into a newfound determination to fight back against the mesmerizing colors and the calm, soothing voice in her ears. Instead, though, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Jamie found herself numbed into despairing lethargy by the revelation. If she couldn't find the strength to struggle back then, when she was less conditioned and more aware of what was happening to her, how could she possibly do it now?
"That's my good girl," the man's voice purred, his fingers pinching her nipples through the latex with an almost casual air of amusement. "There's so little left of her now, just a handful of scraps and fragments glued together with the faintest memory of a name." Somehow the use of the third person to describe Jamie deepened the sense of disassociation that separated her awareness from the situation, making her feel as though the woman on the table was just a stranger that the two of them were discussing. As if she wasn't even there.
