“You’re out of your mind if you think you can get away with this!” Vindiatrix snapped. “Do you have any idea how big a target you would be putting on your black market operations?” It wasn’t a bluff, she told herself—it was a simple statement of fact. The Baroness’s various illicit dealings were generally able to operate under the radar because the city’s police and costumed heroes had higher priorities, but brazenly abducting and humiliating two of the city’s heroines would make it personal.

Baroness Blackleather struck an offended pose. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. ‘Black market operations’?”

Shield Lass snorted. Vindiatrix scowled.

“I have an unblemished record,” the villainess declared in a mockingly sanctimonious tone. Technically, it was true; no criminal accusation against Baroness Blackleather had ever been made to stick. “Some people may not approve of adult entertainment, but it’s a perfectly legitimate business.”

“Legitimate businesses don’t tie people up and put them in front of cameras!” Shield Lass cried.

The Baroness burst out laughing. Shield Lass yelled, “You know what I mean! You kidnapped us!”

“I invited you here. In that invitation, I offered to cure you of your sexual repression. That will be publicly confirmed in a few days once someone cracks the encryption on the message I sent. You arrived in response to that invitation. I am now about to administer the cure I promised.” The villainess spoke slowly and distinctly while ticking the points off on her fingers as if she were explaining them to a slow-witted child.

“Surely you remember that much. Now, can you honestly tell me that you remember being ‘kidnapped’?” she continued, with mocking finger-quotes accompanying the final word.

“This is ridiculous!” Vindiatrix shot back. “We don’t remember that part because of the knockout drug you gave us! Are you actually going to stand there and act like we gave you permission to do this?” Sheer dumbfoundedness at her captor’s audacity eclipsed fear and anger, at least for the moment.

“Technically, you haven’t signed the paperwork to give me permission yet.” The villainess tapped the Remodulator housing upon which Vindiatrix’s head was nestled. “You will, once you’ve been liberated from your irrational inhibitions. After your minds have been opened—”

“You mean, after we’ve been brainwashed!”

“After your minds have been opened,” she repeated as if Vindiatrix’s interruption been a bit of random background noise, “you’ll want to perform for an audience. Their pleasure will enhance your pleasure.”

“Not to mention enhancing your bank account,” Vindiatrix interjected.

“And yours. I don’t expect you to work without being paid, even if you are performing a public service.”

“Public service?” Shield Lass echoed indignantly.

“Yes, adult entertainment is a public service,” the Baroness replied as if she were stating the obvious. “So many people do so many stupid things because their hormones get the better of them. Wouldn’t it be better for them to blow off that excess steam by watching an erotic performance?”

“Maybe if the people they’re watching volunteered for it. I didn’t!” Shield Lass underscored her point with with another futile assault on her restraints.

“You will. You’re proud of that ‘more recycling, fewer overflowing landfills’ public service announcement you recorded last month, aren’t you? After your hangups and prejudices are stripped away, you’ll be just as proud of recording a ‘more masturbation, fewer venereal infections’ advertisement.”

Meanwhile, Vindiatrix had been trying, and failing, to work her arm free. She spoke up, partially to keep the Baroness monologuing and partly to vent her irritation at the stream of self-serving rationalization.

“Mind-controlling us into signing some phony contract will just make it worse for you when people find out the truth.”

“What truth are you talking about?” The Baroness asked in an exaggeratedly curious tone.

“The truth that you brainwashed us!”

“Who’s going to believe that? Everyone knows that mind control wears off in a few hours, and breaks down instantly if the controller tries to push the subject too far.”

“But you said your Remodulators don’t work like that,” Shield Lass interjected.

The Baroness grinned. “Yes. Everyone inside this room knows that.”

As those words sunk in, Vindiatrix realized that this situation was her fault. If she’d saved the Remodulator helmets last time instead of destroying them in a moment of anger, the truth would be known. If she’d told the authorities or her fellow heroes what had happened, the truth would at least be strongly suspected. Instead, she’d tried to bury the entire incident, and the truth would be buried behind the Baroness’s plausible deniability.

Her anger and embarrassment at being used as a sex object had played right into Baroness Blackleather’s hands. She bitterly reflected on the irony—unless some last-minute miracle got her out of this, she’d soon be putting her body on sexual display without the slightest bit of self-consciousness.

She gritted her teeth and tried to put those thoughts aside. They’d break free and turn the tables. They always did. They had to.

Working every muscle she could, Vindiatrix desperately fought against her bonds. It didn’t do any good.

She paused to take a deep breath and prepared to try again when she heard the click of boot heels approaching. A Leathergal walked up to her mistress and told her, “All cameras report ready to begin filming.”

They were running out of time. Having gotten nowhere with her right arm, Vindiatrix made another attempt to free the left one. She felt like she has slightly more wiggle room on that side... maybe something would give if she kept trying.

She tried, and tried again. Nothing happened. Her partner’s efforts were equally unavailing.

The display monitors flickered, and a medley of new images images appeared... live camera feeds ranging from wide-angle overviews to extreme-zoom closeups. Shield Lass closed her eyes.

“I see your sidekick has given up already. She isn’t even going to keep an eye open for any loose connectors or frayed lines that might show up.”

At once, Shield Lass’s eyes reopened. They shot a death glare at the villainess... and then began scanning the monitors.

“You show her!” Vindiatrix said encouragingly. She’d been about to tell Shield Lass to keep her eyes open and felt a bit of perverse gratitude to her captor for making it unnecessary.

“Oh, you’ll both soon be showing everything to everyone!” the Baroness chuckled. “We just have a few final preparations to complete.”

Two more Leathergals arrived, carrying a few small items. The next thing Vindiatrix knew, one of them was bending over her and pressing a rubber ball into her mouth. She tried to clench her jaws shut, but after a bit of struggling the three minions forced the ballgag into place and secured it in position. They then did the same to Shield Lass.

“Don’t worry; you’ll have speaking parts in your next scene,” the Baroness mock-reassured them. “For now, just express your reactions in body language.”

Their captor was manipulating them again, Vindiatrix realized. They had to keep watching—and inevitably reacting to—the smutty spectacle being made of them, just in case the images showed an escape opportunity. The had to keep struggling—“body language” that showcased their helplessness and humiliation—just in case they still had a chance of breaking free.

She hadn’t even been brainwashed yet, and the Baroness was already in full control, she thought sourly.

Her train of thought was interrupted as she noticed her captor squeezing a blob of pink gel onto her fingers. She tried to squirm away as the hand reached between her legs but was unable to avoid having the stuff rubbed across her inner thighs and pubes. Meanwhile, one of the Leathergals likewise administered a dollop of blue gel to Shield Lass.

“The lubricants are a binary compound. They’re labelled ‘his’ and ‘hers’, but they work just as well for two women. When they come into contact, they bubble and effervesce delightfully! I’d be glad to give them a product endorsement if they’d change their heteronormative labeling.”

She looked them up and down. “It won’t be as wrenching an adjustment as you might think. After all, you clearly have a bit of an exhibitionistic streak already, to dress up in skintight spandex. And you know what they say about superheroines and their girl sidekicks.”

Ignoring the captives’ angry muffled outcries, the Baroness turned away and strode toward the front of the stage. She stopped in front of two of the cameras and announced, “It’s showtime!”

-----

The room was once again darkened, with a single spotlight illuminating the Baroness. She struck a sultry pose, with her hips canted just so and her fingers casually brushing the handle of the riding crop on her belt.

“Now that Vindiatrix and Shield Lass are snugly settled in, they’re ready to complete their journey of sexual liberation.”

Vindiatrix tried to yell through her gag loudly enough to voice an intelligible protest, or at least drown out the taunting words playing through her headrest speakers. Shield Lass did likewise. It was useless, they both knew. Even if they managed to get any actual words out, they would be easily edited out of the recording. Like their continued futile escape efforts, it accomplished nothing but to feel slightly better than lying back and surrendering.

Her captor continued her taunting narration. “Soon, the simmering tension between them will be resolved once and for all.”

Vindiatrix grunted into her gag as she tried to bend the metal rods holding her legs splayed outward. It looked like the weakest link in her bondage. It was also the point where her leverage was worst. She wasn’t sure the rod would bend even if she could fully apply her leg muscles, but she was running out of things to try that hadn’t already failed several times over.

The Baroness’s heels clicked across the floor. Vindiatrix wondered offhandedly if the sound engineers would have to edit that out, or perhaps would accentuate it as part of her dominatrix image. With a start, she realized that the thought implicitly assumed that the scene would be successfully filmed and edited and produced and distributed. She forced the defeatist notion aside and pushed herself harder than ever to snap the cords or pull a hand free or something.

A fingertip traced one of the belts holding Vindiatrix’s body in place. “It’s a fascinating paradox when you think about it. Being tied up has actually set them free... free to put their doubts and inhibitions aside... free to stop worrying about the consequences... free to accept and enjoy.”

Vindiatrix put her full strength into trying to turn away from her captor and break the belt she was stroking. Maybe it would snap back and sting her on the hand. No such luck. She growled into her gag, venting her anger at her captor and at herself for getting into this mess.

“They’re even free to act reluctant without actually saying no,” the Baroness smoothly continued. Her hand moved to stroke the heroine under the chin, and a camera swung in for a closeup view of the heroine’s gagged mouth. “Of course, they won’t be saying anything at all until after the deed is done. That ensures that they needn’t worry about saying the wrong thing and breaking the mood. They’ll moan and gasp and whimper, and you can’t go wrong with that.”

The Baroness smirked as Vindiatrix made another determined but unsuccessful attempt to slip free of her bonds.

“It may look like she’s trying to break the cords, but her real struggle is with the neurotic hangups she’s about to banish once and for all. She let herself be strapped in like this because she decided that those repressive inhibitions are not going to stop her from making love to her partner this time.”

Saucily swaying her hips, the Baroness moved to stand between the captives. “Oh, those killjoy mental blocks won’t go away easily... but they will go away. Soon, very soon, these ladies will become lesbian lovers! Each of them has irrevocably committed herself to that, and each of them knows that her partner has given the same guarantee.”

Vindiatrix stretched herself as best she could and took another deep breath. She was uncomfortably aware of the creaky twinges in her overtaxed joints. She’d give it her all, making attempt after attempt after attempt to get loose, and it had accomplished nothing. She couldn’t deny the truth of the situation. This was going to happen. The two of them were going to be joined at the crotch, and it was going to be filmed sold as jerking-off material, and when they climaxed the Baroness’s brainwashing device would make them believe that it was all perfectly normal.

She continued to tug at the restraints, but her heart wasn’t really in it anymore.

The Baroness continued her commentary. “Each of these lovely ladies has given herself to the other. Neither of them has to worry that her partner will react badly to being propositioned, or will reject her outright, or will hurt her even worse by agreeing and then backing out at the last minute.”

She had hurt Jenny by not really acknowledging her feelings, Vindiatrix realized. She’d fallen back on aloofness and joking and mentor-pupil proprieties, but she’d never properly cleared the air by either returning her affections or convincing her to abandon the forlorn hope. If she’d tried to address the situation honestly, maybe she wouldn’t have been so susceptible to the Baroness’s scheme, and they wouldn’t have ended up like this.

It was too late to worry about that. Now, all she could do was keep fighting for as long as she could. She might be a superheroine captured because of her own folly, she might be a superheroine on the brink of becoming a villainess’ pawn, but she was still a superheroine. She only wished that she could say something to rekindle Jenny’s—no, Shield Lass’—fighting spirit, to reassure her that this wasn’t her fault. It was her own damn fault for letting the Baroness get to her the way she had.

Once again, she threw her full strength into an escape attempt. It didn’t accomplish anything, but it did help take the edge off her despairing mood.

The Baroness waved grandly toward the platforms.

Motors hummed. Vindiatrix felt her body tilting toward her left. Shield Lass was rotating the the opposite direction, to her left. Their legs moved a bit further than their bodies, left leg downward and right leg upward.

“And now these two women are in the hands of an irresistible force... a metaphor for the forces of need and desire that brought them here.”

Their legs were now splayed wide, out of each other’s way. The machinery lurched slightly. Slowly, the heroines felt themselves moving forward, closing the space between them. The cameras and microphones approached a bit closer and tracked their motion.

“In just a few minutes, these women will consummate their love.”

Vindiatrix had been working at her bonds for quite a few minutes without any success whatsoever. She continued trying, knowing that it was pointless.

The Baroness leered. “They’re going to skip over the long slow ‘one thing leads to another’ process. The lip-locking and tongue-wrestling and nipple-nibbling stages can wait until later.” She leaned forward and stage-whispered, as if confiding a secret rather than recording a show for an audience. “Don’t worry, folks.... our cameras will be right there when it happens!”

The platforms, and the heroines bound to them, continued their approach. Their feet and ankles slid past each other as their legs began to intertwine.

“They’re skipping all the bases and headed directly for hot wet pussy-grinding lesbian sex on home plate!”

Both heroines tried to shift their hips backward. Perhaps they could avoid direct contact, or at least ward off the orgasm that would trigger the Remodulators. They increased the gap between them by perhaps an inch. There was no sign of any obstacle that would prevent the machinery from simply closing that extra bit of distance.

“They needn’t fret about first-time jitters or performance anxiety. The Scissor-Matic machinery will do all the work... sliding their bodies together just so, maneuvering them into precise position, and rocking their hips gently but firmly into each other for perfect tribbing action.”

Acting on raw reflex, Vindiatrix desperately tried to pull her legs together. Of course, they remained firmly fixed to the supports that held them splayed in “precise position” for the imminent scissoring session.

“These lucky ladies are about to experience a perfect lesbian encounter, without the slightest bit of physical discomfort or awkwardness. It’s guaranteed to cure them of their mental blocks against female intimacy.”

Would people believe this psychobabble, and accept the claim that they’d volunteered for this as some sort of weird relationship therapy? It was just so ridiculous! And yet... the true explanation was supposed to be impossible, and her own stupidity had destroyed all the evidence proving otherwise. The only people who knew that comprehensive permanent mind control existed were the Baroness, her lackeys, and the two of them... who were about to become her lackeys. Given a choice between a ridiculous explanation and an impossible one, people would settle for the former.

“They won’t be able to deny that they enjoyed it. They certainly won’t be able to deny that it happened. Not after they’ve made love and cried out in ecstasy in front of the cameras. They might as well have literally done the deed on top of home plate in front of a packed stadium.”

A few cameras swung out to the sides; others continued to track them from directly above. One of the monitors showed an oblique view of the heroines’ torsos sliding between each other’s feet; another showed a view of their legs and hips from directly above. At this rate, they had about one minute left before making contact.

“After this, they’ll be ready to fully express their inner sensuality... ready to be the uninhibited lesbian sexpots they were always meant to be.” The Baroness smirked. “After the world sees this, how could they possibly feel bashful about being seen holding hands or kissing in public? They’ll be out and proud and not care who knows it!”

The comment reminded her of what the Baroness had said earlier about pornography being a sort of public service. At the time, she’d dismissed it as either trolling or just plain nonsense. Maybe it would be better to seriously consider the idea. If she couldn’t stop this, she could at least adapt to it, and not let it derail her fight for justice. It wasn’t as if the Baroness were forcing her to do something inherently evil or criminal. Maybe her comments were intended as mockery, but that didn’t necessarily make them wrong.

Those musings sounded like rationalizations for giving up. Maybe the Baroness’s spiel was designed to maneuver her onto that line of thought and weaken her resistance to the Remodulator. Even so, the conclusion might be valid. At least it wasn’t as bad as the idea that they were simply lining the Baroness’s coffers.

She told herself that she hadn’t given up. She was continuing to struggle with her bonds. However, she was a hard-headed realist, and her efforts had accomplished nothing whatsoever and showed no sign of doing any better in the little time she had left.

She looked into Jenny’s eyes. Thinking of her as “Jenny” instead of “Shield Lass” softened the defeat a bit—they were Tracy and Jenny, two women about to have lesbian sex, rather than Vindiatrix and Shield Lass, two costumed heroines captured and turned into their captor’s playthings.

Jenny’s expression was all too familiar. It was the apologetic look she had when she blamed herself for failing her mentor. She wanted to put a stop to this, but she couldn’t. Jenny was pointedly keeping her gaze directed up at Tracy’s face... she was feeling guilty about her physical reactions to her partner’s naked body.

“All they need to do now... all they can do now, really... is lie back and await the magic moment of lesbian initiation...” She peered closely at the rapidly diminishing space between the bound women’s bodies. “...about fifteen seconds from now.”

With one final leer at her captives, Baroness Blackleather strode away. She joined the crew of Leathergals who sat at consoles in one corner of the room, operating the boom-mounted cameras.

Their captor’s withdrawal emphasized the presence of the cameras. Some remained pointed at their faces and breasts, but the main focus was shifting to their hips. A few of the cameras maneuvered to peek into the narrowing gap between the two women’s thighs and get crotch closeups until the last possible moment.

She felt her partner’s thighs rubbing against hers as they slid the final few inches. Watching on one of the monitor screens, she saw their upper legs interlock more and more tightly, blocking the camera’s view of their pussies... preserving one tiny bit of personal privacy. It was absurd to care about that, she knew, but it was all she had at the moment.

Her body shivered as the binary lubricant began to fizz. The shivery sensation increased rapidly as their bodies met.

The next thing she knew, the platform vibrated and rocked, grinding pussy against pussy. The motion and pressure blended the two gel compounds and squeezed the tingling foam into every nook and cranny. The sensation was almost unbearably intense.

There was nothing to do now but ride it out and hope that the Climax Remodulator wasn’t as overwhelmingly powerful as the Baroness claimed.

Two more cameras and another microphone moved in toward her face. She was breathing deeply with her eyes wide open. A sudden thrust sent jolts through her pussy and made her gasp into her gag. She was putting on the show her captor wanted... she simply couldn’t help it. She probably looked excited, stimulated... just like Jenny looked right now. It was hard to think of her as “Shield Lass” when she wore that expression of pure lust and need. It was getting hard to think about anything at all....

Jenny ground into her, harder and more insistently. Their upper thighs pressed tightly, and their pussy lips rubbed together intimately. Jenny’s flesh slid against hers, lubricated by the ointment that had been rubbed onto it... and by the wetness she was feeling between her legs. It was just an automatic response to physical stimulation, she told herself. An automatic response she could not control, an automatic response that was pushing everything else aside.

They stared into each other’s eyes. The Baroness and her Leathergals and even the cameras and microphones were forgotten as they felt their bodies intimately rubbing together and watched each other writhing and moaning. Their awareness had narrowed down to the raw need to push themselves and each other to the brink, and beyond.

She shuddered as she felt a stronger jolt down below. She heard a buzzing in her ears. One last coherent thought flickered through her mind: it was the Climax Remodulator, powering up as it detected her oncoming orgasm. Soon... very soon....

The automatic rocking motion wasn’t enough. She wanted more, harder, deeper. She knew she wasn’t supposed to want this from another woman, but she couldn’t help herself. The stimulation was getting to her, even worse than the Baroness had gotten to her last time.

She moaned into her gag and began working her hips, trying to intensify the contact. Jenny did likewise. She still wanted more, but she gladly took what she could get. Her breath came in gasps as the sensations between her legs drove everything else out of her world....

Her body twitched and spasmed as climax came over her. Oh... god... it made all those other times seem like faint echoes of real sexual pleasure. She was so glad that the Baroness had done this for her. She loved the Baroness as much as she loved Jenny... no, more, because it was the Baroness who made it possible for her to love Jenny like this.

Other thoughts and memories tried to push their way to her attention before they faded into oblivion. She was supposed to maintain a “professional relationship” with her protégé. She was supposed to catch the Baroness in her crimes and put her behind bars.

That was what she’d believed before, but now she knew better. There was no reason she and Jenny couldn’t be both partners and lovers, if they were both mature adults about it. As for the Baroness... yes, some of her dealings were a bit... irregular, but she wasn’t truly a criminal. There was no good reason to be nosing into her affairs when there were real threats out there to be dealt with.

She was aware that the Remodulator had put those thoughts into her head, but somehow that didn’t matter. The thoughts were right; why should it matter where they came from? She had a moment of doubt as she realized that the Remodulator was shaping her judgment to make her believe those things, but the objection faded away. The new joy of loving Jenny and the Baroness and all her Leathergals was simply too much to give up.

Making love to another woman was so delightful. She must have been a lesbian all along, deep down. Once again a protesting voice spoke up in her head, telling her that the Remodulator had turned her into a lesbian. She simply couldn’t believe it. It was easier to accept that the experience had simply stoked some latent tendencies in her and leave it at that.

This was what she’d always wanted, really. It was why she’d accepted the Baroness’s invitation. She remembered walking in through the front door, discussing the proposition, and, after a few initial qualms, agreeing to it.

For some reason, she also seemed to remember dropping through the roof and being captured. It was very confusing.

Then, it suddenly made sense. Obviously, her memory was playing tricks on her, and she’d mixed up an incident where she had dropped in through the roof of a villain’s base with her perfectly peaceful visit to the studio this evening. Yes, that was it. The misleading memories of raiding the Baroness’s studio as if she were some sort of criminal began fading away.

Her orgasm began to taper off into afterglow as the lubricant finally stopped bubbling. As she noticed one of the cameras pointed at her, one last spark of resistance flared up. It quickly faded and died. There was no rational reason to object to being watched or photographed, only tired old taboos based on neurotic hang-ups.

Her new way of thinking made much more sense than her old way of thinking. That was why she’d made the decision to let Baroness Blackleather help her overcome her neurotic inhibitions. Even with her old way of thinking she’d realized that was the right decision.

Jenny understood, too. She could see it in her eyes. They were together. It was where they belonged. They would be better heroines than ever, chasing down real criminals while helping to build the Baroness’s new business enterprise. They would be doing good in a whole new way, providing a physical outlet for horny teens who weren’t ready for sex and for unfortunate souls who couldn’t find a companion.

She felt Jenny’s body against hers. It felt right. She remembered how she’d been avoiding their sparring sessions out of some strange fear that they would somehow lead to... this. She clearly remembered doing that, but it felt like the act of some other person—some very stupid and thoughtless person. Well, making up for lost time was all the more reason to fully dive into this pleasure now.

The machinery reversed course, moving the women apart. Vindiatrix murmured a protest into her gag as she was pulled away from her partner and lover. She told herself that it was only for a little while. Their sexual ride on this machine was ending; soon, they’d be free to try something else.

As her platform rotated back to a level position, the Baroness approached. She reached out to unbuckle the heroine’s gag.

“So, how did you like it?”

“It was...” She stumbled for words to describe the pleasure. “...wonderful, Mistress!” There was no fumbling for that word; it was obviously right.

Meanwhile, one of the crew had ungagged Shield Lass. “That was amazing!” she blurted out. She then turned toward the Baroness. “Thank you, Mistress.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourselves,” The Baroness said as the Leathergals unfastened the clips and cords holding the duo in place.

As Vindiatrix and Shield Lass finally got to their feet, a tall redheaded Leathergal approached them. “Hello, I’m Kristin.”

Shield Lass recognized her as the woman who had brought her to the brink of orgasmic brainwashing during their previous encounter with the Baroness. She wasn’t inclined to hold a grudge. In fact, she was hoping to give that talented tongue another opportunity to work its magic between her legs.

“Kristin will escort you to the shower. Once you’re nicely cleaned up, we can continue filming.”

“Yes, Mistress!” both heroines replied.