Carlotta had no idea what had happened. She’d been programmed to forget, after all. But the need to clear her schedule every couple weekends for “alone time” was a driving force in her life that she barely even noticed. Some things just are the way they are, like the fact that it was much too soon for her to start dating again after she’d felt that clear, undeniable knowledge that she needed to break up with Hank. He was wrong for her, even if she didn’t know why.
She made no plans for those weekends she was to be alone; it wouldn’t even occur to her to do so. Ask her what she did and she’d offer only a playful “None of your business,” and if she would happen to try to scan her memories to answer the question for herself, the blocks that had been programmed into her mind would simply divert her one of those songs she just couldn’t get out of her head.
But the weekends would come. She’d arrive home from work on a Friday, pour herself a glass of wine and begin to feel… fuzzy. She began to feel relaxed, her muscles filled with a pleasant kind of weakness that felt good to give in to. Carlotta would slowly begin to undress; idly, one item at a time without even noticing it was happening.
It was around this time that the mental blocks would begin to lower ever so slowly. She became passively aware of a photo shoot with strange new equipment. A flash that had made her thoughts go silent as it filled her vision over and over again. The photographer’s voice… telling her things.
There would be a brief period of transition when she realized who she was waiting for: the photographer who’d made himself her Master with those words. She would muse for a few moments on how odd it was for a spirited woman in the year 2016 to be the sex slave to a man who came to visit her every few weekends. But it felt like something that had happened to someone else… it felt like she was becoming someone else. And soon enough she did become that other person, that passive, helpless sex slave who waited eagerly by the window for her Master’s arrival…
…so someone, anyone, would tell her what to do.
Two days later, Carlotta would awake from a mental fog and spend the last few hours of her weekend pampering herself and preparing to rejoin her life. She was unable to wonder what had become of the days she missed. The programming made sure of it.