I really love the spacey look on her face. It’s beautiful how dazed she is!

Tabitha was following me one day as I led her to her chambers; she being too dumb to find it herself, when she asked me a strange question out of nowhere, “Master, what’s 4?“ I stopped and she stopped right behind me. “What do you mean?” I asked. “I-I don’t know. The word 4 appeared in my head just now, and I’m not sure where it came from. I want to say…2… plus 2, maybe?” Not only was that the most talking she’d done in months, but it was strung together cohesively AND independently created. We’d never known how long the brainwashing would last and initially we were prepared for it. But after years of blithe servitude, we’d come to assume that the programming would work in perpetuity. I cleared my throat and replied, “Yes, that’s true, Tabitha. Very good. You worked that all out by yourself, did you? She beamed. “Uh-huh,” she said, proudly. “Very good,“ I said, “Now follow me back to your room.”

She nodded placidly and we continued, this time headed for the brainwashing chamber. When we got there, she shook her head slightly. “I…I don’t think this is my room, master.” I broke out in a cold sweat, could years of research and training be coming undone? I laughed and said “Good girl, you noticed. Yes, your room is being worked on to make it prettier. You’ll be staying in here temporarily.” She took a moment and then nodded. I gestured her inside and she went willingly. I closed the door, locked it, and went to the control booth, where I cranked the program up to its maximum setting. The music, blinking lights subliminal messages flashed on the walls, and the endless spirals. Began at full bore intensity. She seemed to awaken for a brief moment and look around her until a spiral to her left caught her in its center and, with a deep sigh, her eyes fixated and glazed over.

The spiral occasionally disappeared among the chaos of the room, but her gaze no longer wavered. I let her there overnight and in the morning I returned. She hadn’t moved an inch and there was drool covering her chin, neck, and tits. I turned off the sensory overload equipment and walked up to her. She didn’t acknowledge my approach at all, but when I said “Can you hear me, Tabitha?” She responded with no thought whatsoever, “Yeeess, maaaaasterrrr.” More drool cascaded from her lips as she spoke, but she had no ability to notice. “Tabitha?” I asked, “What is 4?” Once again, that monotone drone, devoid of any inflection intoned “Forrr fu-cking, maaaasterrr.”