Well, so much for that plan.

After they reached Spidershade’s hideout, she’d told Sentinelle to wait inside while she tended to the bike. Seated and ready to burn rubber, she’d used the garage intercom to tell her guest to take off the suit for some tests.

That ought to have worked out, whether the command broke her out of the brainwashing or got her out of the outfit. With the first scenario, she’d have to make a run for it, but that would be the end of the problem. With the second, she’d have the heroine depowered, practically naked, and obedient until she managed to push that obedience too far.

Sentinelle had responded with a third option, saying that she could conduct any necessary “tests” by personally demonstrating the suit’s abilities. It was a neat rationalization, Spidershade had to admit, squaring her new allegiance with her reluctance to leave herself vulnerable.

Too bad. Getting her out of the outfit had some entertaining possibilities. Her favorite idea was to tell her to go take a shower as long as she was undressed. A surprise intrusion to get an eyeful and a quick grope would probably shock her back to herself, with plenty of time to beat a retreat before she found her suit (while yelling “I didn’t see your face — honest!”) and gave chase.

No point dwelling on might-have-beens. Plan A had failed; Sentinelle was still brainwashed and still empowered. She’d just have to switch to Plan B. It required facing the risk head-on, which would normally put it a few more places down the alphabet, but it was the only option she could think of.

Spidershade returned to the lair and headed for the liquor cabinet. She was going to need a drink before proceeding. She poured herself a brandy, and then remembered her manners and poured another. “Drink up.”

As Sentinelle reached for the drink, the lower half of her mask shimmered and retreated.

“Impressive. That sure beats rolling up the mask.” Spidershade did that and took a swig. Belatedly, she wondered if alcohol would help or hinder things. Oh, well, too late to worry about that now. Besides, it just wouldn’t be right to take advantage of a girl without even offering her a drink first....

“The suit reconfigures itself. We can start by doing some tests on that.”

“There’s something else I want to test right now.” Spidershade took another swig. It was time to get down to business.

Sentinelle took another sip. “You’re in charge until we hear back from the boss.”

“That’s right. I’m in charge here. Now finish your drink so we can get started.”

A few minutes later, Sentinelle let Spidershade take her by the hand. Tense, ready to leap clear, the mercenary led the heroine to the bedroom.

“Lie down and stay still,” she commanded.

She complied. So far, so good. Maybe this idea would work after all.

“We’re going to start with an escape test,” Spidershade declared as she searched her toy drawer. The suit provided enhanced but not extreme strength, not enough to snap thick leather bands or heavy-duty silk cords. The cuffs with rubber ribbing ought to hold firmly in place and also resist electrical blasts, if she could still fire them through the latex bondage mittens.

“Put your arms out sideways.” Quickly, expecting to get blasted at any moment, she strapped the mitts over the heroine’s hands and wrists, then firmly bound her arms to the bedposts. She relaxed as she spread the prone woman’s legs and secured her ankles. The risky part was done. Sentinelle was secured, unable to lash out at her the way she’d lashed out at the goons.

She told herself that this was different. Those goons were just looking for fun. She was trying to undo the damage she’d done. Yes, she’d have some fun in the process. Nothing wrong with that. Doing a good deed didn’t mean she had to be a goody-goody sap who never got anything out of it for herself.

“Now... try to escape. Give it your best shot.”

Sentinelle tugged at the wrist and ankle cuffs. The bonds creaked a bit, but showed no sign of yielding. Faint sparks of light shone around the wrist cuffs of the mittens, but the power of the energy blasts was being contained by the insulating material.

The suit shimmered, it’s color shifting to a bright sheen. Spidershade ran her hand along the heroine’s thigh. The surface was now slick, very unlike the rubbery texture she’d felt before.

The bound woman redoubled her efforts. Despite that, and despite the nearly frictionless suit surface, the cuffs held fast.

Finally, Sentinelle slumped onto the mattress. “I give up. I can’t get out of this.”

Spidershade leered at her. “Good, because you’re staying right there for a while. Don’t try to escape. You said it yourself: I’m in charge. Well, I’m taking charge. I’m not doing this for the boss; I’m doing this for me.”

Her memories of being brainwashed were fuzzy and disconnected, like a dream. One thing she did remember was realizing that the henchmen were just indulging themselves, not really working for Doctor Dynoforce. That had helped her break free. Maybe the same thing would work here.

The woman on the bed obediently quit struggling. “What are you doing?” Her tone was apprehensive, but not the outraged protest she ought to be making if she’d overcome the brainwashing to find herself in this predicament. Maybe one more good push would do it....

“I’m going to fuck you and make a dyke out of you. That’s what I’m doing, bitch!” Spidershade sneered. That raw crudity might snap the heroine out of it. By all accounts, Sentinelle was both straight and straitlaced.

“Now, let’s have a better look at those sexy curves,“ she continued, stroking the captive’s flank possessively. “Make that outfit really cling to you from your neck down to your toes.”

The material rippled, reconfiguring itself from form-fitting to truly skintight. The newly revealed contours made it unmistakably clear that Sentinelle was closely shaved and going commando.

Spidershade stared appreciatively, visualizing what little remained to the imagination. “Very nice!” she purred. “It’s only fair to return the favor. Too bad I don’t have a super-tech suit. I’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way.”

She unzipped her own bodysuit. “Watch closely. Now that you’re going to be my queer little sex slave, you need to learn to properly appreciate your Mistress’s body.”

It was laying it on a bit thick, she thought as she peeled away her outfit, but that might be the key to beating the mind control.

There was no apparent effect. Sentinelle lay still, making no attempt to escape or even protest.

All Spidershade could do was proceed to the next step. As she stripped off everything but her mask, she told herself that this was primarily a good deed, with personal gratification as a side effect.

She made a show of dropping her panties to the floor and struck a porn-magazine pose, presenting both tits and ass to the bound woman’s view. She held the pose for a few seconds, until her back started to complain. “Your turn, bitch,” she declared as she stretched. “Make everything from the neck down completely clear, like your eyepieces.”

In less than a second, the body of the suit seemed to fade away. Only a few highlight reflections remained, making her body look like it was covered in oil. Her still-opaque mask only served to emphasize her nudity.

The superheroine writhed in her bonds as her captor stroked and squeezed and fondled. The invisible sheath around her could stop bullets, but did not impede her sense of touch. In one interview, she’d showed off by identifying coins as heads or tails by touch with her gloved fingers. If anything, the suit was enhancing the sensations she was feeling.

There was still one place where it got in the way, though.

“Open up the crotch of your suit just like you opened up the mouth.”

The clear sheen covering her crotch retreated up her torso and down her thighs, leaving her mound and slit completely bare.

Spidershade strode toward the foot of the bed and climbed aboard, kneeling between the other woman’s spread legs. All she had to do was lean in and lick....

She stopped short. She’d entertained fantasy images of this when she came up with the plan, but she hadn’t really expect things to go nearly this far. The heroine ought to have snapped out of it by now.

The real problem was that this was a point of no return. Everything up to now had depended on Sentinelle’s cooperation. If she’d gotten back to normal, she simply wouldn’t have taken the next requested step. Once this happened, there might be no way to stop it even if it broke the brainwashing. Cries of protest could easily be mistaken for cries of passion or cries of dissatisfaction with her partner’s technique. Spasmodic thrashing could be an escape attempt or an approaching orgasm.

Well, there was an obvious solution. She really ought to have set it up to begin with, but she’d assumed the failure of the mind control would be obvious.

She looked Sentinelle in the eye. “Listen carefully. If at any time you want me to stop, yell ‘Doctor Dumb-o-farce’, and I’ll stop.” She remembered the obsequious respect she’d shown the villain while under his control. Uttering that insulting nickname would be definite proof that the heroine was herself again....

Sentinelle burst out laughing. “‘Dumb-o-Farce’? That’s a good one! Mind if I use it next time I fight him?”

Spidershade stared dumbfounded. She’d already broken free? Then why was she still going along with this? After one or two attempts to flap her gums without any words coming out, she sputtered, “But...? How...? Why...?”

“I wasn’t brainwashed. I was playing along the whole time.”