The girl in the collar hummed happily as her owner came down her throat. That meant she’d been useful, been good, and that made her even happier then she had been before, and thanks to him she was almost always happy now.
Slurping, head bobbing, she eagerly swallowed it all and then went to work cleaning his cock, just like how she knew she was supposed to: licks and slurps and happy little mumblings. And it was while she was doing this that something caught her attention.
Her owner was watching television. He often did this with her by his feet. It was how he liked to relax, he said. Sometimes she just knelt, awaiting a command, and sometimes she was obeying a command. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t her choice. This time obviously she was obeying a command, and it was thanks to her position between his legs that she could just about see the screen, off to the side.
Normally none of what she saw there made much sense to her and normally it didn’t matter because it wasn’t for her, but something about this caught her attention, which confused her a little bit. It was confusing because she didn’t know why it would have caught her attention. Just something from the corner of her eye had made her look. Then it happened again and, since she was watching properly (mostly properly) she saw why: there was a girl on the screen she recognised.
Or thought she recognised, at least. Something about her was familiar.
Whatever was on the screen was showing clips of this girl, in a costume, flying around a bit, or standing and looking strong and confident. It looked very strange to her, and it didn’t help her understand what about the girl was nagging so much at her.
The chyron running beneath it all read:
“Whatever happened to Justice Girl?”
“Master, do I know her? She feels like… someone…” she said, brow furrowed. Thinking was hard, and remembering was basically like thinking - her owner did both of those for her, which was why she was asking him. She hoped he would make the thinking stop. Her head was starting to throb.
“No,” he said, idly, tapping her on the head to keep her going. She managed one lick before the screen (and the throbbing in her head) distracted her. Such a ditz.
“But she seems familiar…”
Reaching down, her owner put a finger on her chin and tipped her head so she was looking up at him and not at the screen. She didn’t resist. She couldn’t. The moment his eyes met hers the whole world shrank down. There was nothing else. Only him.
His words filled her head. The throbbing stopped. It was the truth.
“I don’t know her,” she said, dreamily, dumb smile on her face. It was so much easier knowing what she was supposed to think, and so obvious now. Of course she didn’t know her. Master said, and so she didn’t.
“You were always my toy.”
“You were always my pet.”
“You were never anything else.”
“I was never anything else…”
Putting a hand on top of her head, he turned it so she was facing the television again. She stared, eyes empty, her face blank, a big dumb smile spread across it. She saw the girl on the screen, the girl who was totally and utterly identical to her, and she felt nothing. Just a stranger.
“Do you know her?” He asked.
“I don’t know her,” she sighed happily. It was the truth.
Her owner smiled and sat back again. It was a lot easier doing that, now.
“Good girl. You can touch yourself.”
Squealing with glee and babbling thanks she very quickly shuffled back on the floor so he would have a better view, spread her legs, and started doing just that, panting and moaning and being totally open and on display for him the way she’d been trained to be, the only way she could even think of being.
On the screen, the news moved onto something else.
titsay
vaporwave
