She's Still Strange

Now that this little act of theater is done, what you'd hoped would happen would be the return of your wife. But, no. Even with the tag added to the collar, her eyes remain white and empty. Joy still wasn't behind them. Sensing your approach, she bows deep enough that her forehead touches the carpet. Her long hair spreads out chaotically around the ground. In this pose she remains, for long enough that you suspect she's waiting for you to respond.

"Please, get back up." You try to say it loud and strong, but your voice gets lost in your throat. None the less, she obeys you and rises back into her kneeling posture.

"How may I serve you, Master?" She asks in her strange discordant voice.

You stand in place. Is the situation you're in now? Perhaps you should test it. See the extent that she's willing to do while in this state. Another voice reminds you that having her do something while clearly not in control this way is just...wrong. How can a mind controlled woman consent? Still, you decide to try to keep it easy. See the limits of what she will and won't do.

"Remove your bra." You say. In moments, she unclasps it and lets it fall to the floor. Her movements are very utilitarian. You guess that if you want sexy, you're going to have to specify.

"Apologize for making me take out the trash." You try. If she doesn't have Joy's memories that might prove difficult.

"I am sorry for my offenses Master. " She intones. "It is not my place to make demands of you. You were busy, and I should not have disturbed you."

Interesting. So she was aware of what had happened in the conversation. Otherwise the bit about you being busy wouldn't be in there. Was she even willing to do something dangerous in this state?

"**** yourself with your bra strap." You say. You hope she doesn't try it.

But, she does. Her hands grab the discarded bra from the ground, and push it to her own neck, as if to wrap it around. Jesus Christ. If you told her to jump off a bridge in this state, she'd probably even do it.

"No wait." You hold up your hand, rushing to say it as fast as possible. That was a mistake. That was a mistake. Stupid. stupid. "Stop."

Thankfully, the second you say that, she drops the bra from her hand and returns to her kneeling posture. It was as if she hadn't tried to kill herself a second before. Her wide white eyes are trained on you, as if waiting for further direction.

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