She should be bored, but she isn’t. She smiles for a moment at the thought. She’s been laying here for…well, she’s not sure. She should be bored, but she doesn’t think she’s been even thinking. She’s just been laying on the couch for…for a long time. Or not. She smirks. What was she doing again? She’s been here a long time, she thinks. She should be bored, but she isn’t.
Eight? Eleven, maybe? Ugh, no, that doesn’t sound right. If only I could remember the sequence, then I could… I could… I don’t know what I could do, really. I know it’s important though. I know he lets me remember bits of it just to torment me. Sometimes I mutter it under my breath as I kneel beside him and he laughs and calls me stupid.
But I’m not stupid. I’m smart. Much smarter than he thinks I am. I’m remembering more and more of it every day. I’m thinking hard about it every time I suck his cock. When I dance for him and he thinks I’m staring off into space, I’m really trying to remember. Is it a code for that machine he uses to do this to women? Is it an address? A phone number of someone who can help us?
I’ll figure it out, someday. I’m even dreaming about it now. I think it’s a glimpse of my old life. I’m dressed in these weird, boring clothes and my hair’s darker, brown, I think. The sequence is written up on the walls and there are all these people around, trying to learn it. And I’m standing up in front of them, in front of these really short people, and it’s so simple that I’m teaching it to them. I must have known it so well.
One, then two, three, four and then… fff…. fff… three! Oh, no, I’ve done that one already. One more try…
You wake up slowly, feeling the sunlight on your face. You’re happy. That’s the first thing you really notice - how simply content you feel, lying on the floor. It takes a bit before you begin to wonder why you’re on the floor. It’s a bit longer before you wonder whose floor this is.
Your mental processes feel slow. Realizations aren’t coming quickly, and while some things feel confusing, it’s hard to muster up the energy to be actively curious about them. Yes, you’re in a strange place, lying naked on the floor. But you feel fine about that. Just accepting it seems preferable, somehow, to worrying or thinking about it. More pleasant.
Your body feels odd. Different. You arch your back a bit, experimentally, the heft of your breasts feeling more substantial than you remember. Your stomach feels more trim. You’ve been playing with your hair for a few minutes now, and only now do you start to wonder if it’s always been like this - so long, flowing, luxurious.
There’s a vague buzz in the back of your mind, like a fly caught against the screen in a window. You pay attention for a moment, but it’s unpleasant. It feels like… stress. Worry. Fear. Anxiety. Doubt. You don’t like how it feels, so you turn your focus away. It’s so much nicer to just lay in the sun and not think.
You wonder vaguely if you’ve changed somehow. You have a slight memory of being different. Not having this perfect body. Not being able to simply turn off your mind. Being a prisoner of your thoughts and fears and stresses. Not being perfect.
You don’t know how you ended up this way. You don’t care. You’re grateful. You love it.