Extract from Jane’s Guide to Costumed Heroes, 2002 Revision

JAZZ, AKA VORTEX, REAL NAME UNKNOWN

Gender: Female

Age: Unknown

Height: 5’ 9”

Hair: Black

Race: African-American

Confirmed Abilities: Sorcerous shields, banishment of mystic entities, “battle cantrip” bolts of mystic energy, short-term short-distance flight

Unconfirmed Abilities: Reported to have performed mystic rituals of warding. Prior to joining the Symphony, spent three months as Holder of the Grimoire between Commander Fate’s self-sacrifice and resurrection, and may know other spells from that time.

Group Affiliation: The Symphony

Year of First Activity: 1991

Locations: Houston, Texas (early career), East Coast (with the Symphony)

Known Nemeses: The Bad Samaritan, Chairwoman Reyes, General Walters

Initially known as Vortex, the heroine more commonly known as Jazz appears only fleetingly in police reports around Houston for the first three years of her career. She was considered an urban legend, the stories kept alive only by mentions from Detective Carl Rubinek (believed to have been her lover at one time) of Houston P.D. and by persistent rumours among police informants belonging to the Belmont gang, noted for its mystic affiliations.

The first clear footage of Vortex dates from the summer of 1994, during the Bad Samaritan spree killings. Vortex rescued several civilians and many of Houston’s finest from the killer, and was the first to break the Samaritan glamour, showing that the killer possessed a different body at each incident.

Despite persistent efforts by Mystech Industries to isolate and defeat the threat, Vortex also succeeded in banishing the Samaritan as it fled one body and sought another, bringing the killings to a halt. Vortex has claimed since that Chairwoman Reyes of Mystech had released the Bad Samaritan into this plane for power.

Mystech Industries strongly denies this claim. It is commonly considered to be true that many mystic killers who later attacked Vortex were hired by Chairwoman Reyes, but there has never been a challenge proven in a court of law. One such attempt, by the Wishmaster, was foiled when Commander Fate gave his life to destroy the Wishmaster’s hold on his ensorcelled slaves. For a time Vortex took up the Commander’s role as Holder of the Grimoire, until his life-essence reformed during the invasion commonly known as the Nocturne Incident.

Vortex renamed herself to Jazz when she joined the Symphony, leaving Texas behind to take responsibility from the East Coast, alongside Samba and Bolero. Her purple colour motif transferred over from her cloak and swimsuit-like costume to the heavy purple leather catsuit shown in the page image. It is worth noting that some part of Vortex’s protective spells means no two readers will see the same face.

In 1998, the Symphony uncovered a major plot to subvert the United States Army and launch a coup led by General Walters. This was eventually prevented by the Symphony, aided by the Task Force in the final showdown. Following details are unclear but it’s known that the team was betrayed by new member Slide.

It later transpired that Slide had been sent into action by General Walters to infiltrate and bring down the team.

Like the rest of the team, Jazz was last seen helping other heroes in the defence of Fort Bragg against the Millennium Bug during his return in late 2001. Her status since is unknown.

For more detail on the Symphony’s activities, consult their group entry in this book.

*

2006

It was hard to be away from the Doctor. Candace deeply regretted, as she pulled the first few binding screws free of their captive’s full-face helmet, that she was about to brainwash this woman without her Master’s input.

What if she made her into the wrong kind of slave for the Doctor’s preferences?

Her work could be undone if necessary, of course, but she would be so much happier if she could twist this attacker’s mind to fit his wishes perfectly.

The control helmet had a concealed hinge on one side. Once the screws on the other side were removed, Candace opened it out and a mane of auburn hair fell free. The woman’s head lolled slightly. Candace put her hand behind the woman’s head, steadying her, getting a better look, and saw a slack jaw and a thousand yard stare.

Their petite assailant’s eyes weren’t apparently focused on anything in the room, but Candace new from experience that those slack, empty eyes would see well enough to follow instructions. Still, without the helmet on, her attempts to kill Candace had ceased - or perhaps that was just because she was being held too tight.

Candace looked at the two women holding her and smiled. “Lulu. Missy. Your arms are locked.” Missy nodded, eyes wide and innocent, but Candace was looking for the moment of glazing and the shiver in Lulu’s reaction.

There was no way their captive was breaking her hold now. Candace turned the helmet in her hand, looked for the radio, and hit it with the butt of the screwdriver. A couple more blows and it had cracked, sparking once.

So now they should be relatively secure. Candace got up and fetched the other tools she knew she was going to need; a slimline briefcase.

It wasn’t a full Tiara. Compressing even the non-physical function of the Tiara into something this size wasn’t possible. But a mild version, capable of a quick scan and some basic, if blunt, command implementation? That was more than workable. She started setting up, conscious she was working under the blank, unfocused gaze of someone sent to kill her.

When the electrode strap was set properly into place, though, Candace felt a lot more comfortable, a lot less uncertain.

This was something she knew well. She powered up the device and watched the readouts curiously.

The pattern the scanner picked up didn’t feel like a typical human mental pattern. It was more… rigid. Less of the randomness of a person’s thoughts. Less widely ranging, too. Like the control helmet had regulated and reduced the woman’s capacity for thought.

There was an aching whimper from the woman, the first sound she’d made since entering the room. Candace looked up sharply. “Did you feel that?” she asked.

There was no answer.

Candace toggled a switch, moving from passive scanning to a low-level power conditioning. “Can you hear me?” she asked.

In most cases, she’d expect it to take perhaps two or three seconds for a response. Silence hung in the air for what seemed so much longer before the woman spoke. “Yes.”

“What’s your name?”

“Epsilon.” This answer came faster as the woman found her voice, but it cracked partway through speaking. Seemed like she may not have been kept hydrated before being sent out for this mission.

“What’s your real name?”

“Epsilon.”

Candace and Lulu exchanged glances, frowning. There was heavier brainwashing going on here than they’d realised.

“What’s the first thing you remember, Epsilon?”

There was another pause. Candace watched the slack jaw shift as she swallowed awkwardly. “The unit received inspection this morning,” she said.

“You only remember this morning onward?”

“Yes.”

“So you have no idea why you tried to kill me?”

“I was selected from the unit.”

More worried frowns between Candace and Lulu. There were others out there.

“Right…” Candace made a quick decision not to try layering brainwashing on top of brainwashing. She was confident in the work the Doctor had done, and the supporting work he’d ordered her to do. But this woman was being kept in a control helmet; whatever kept her in check probably needed frequent top-ups.

Best to start from scratch, but there was probably information buried somewhere in her memory that could tell them what they were dealing with. Candace didn’t want to lose that. So just burning her consciousness down to the ground and rebuilding it like they had with Missy was out.

She turned up the gain on the portable unit. “OK, Epsilon,” she said. “Someone has told you to forget most of your life. But they’re not here, are they?”

“No,” Epsilon replied.

“They’re not in control right now, are they?”

“No,” Epsilon whispered.

“And you’re definitely not.”

It wasn’t a question, and it received no reply, but the silence spoke volumes of its own. Candace allowed that to linger a little - see if her captive’s underlying self might let that idea settle in more firmly.

Then she resumed her attack. “So I’m in control.” Follow the Doctor’s example; say it, smile, pause, let the idea sink in, then test. “Correct?”

There was a small hesitation. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, you’re in control.”

Candace’s lip curled. The only better admission could be an admission of submission to the Doctor. But she’d get the woman there.

“And I want you to remember your life.” She paused for a moment, again giving the mind a chance to register the idea and assess it before the instruction. “Remember.”

She stiffened in the arms of her captors for a second, then slumped again.

“What’s the earliest thing you remember?” Candace asked again.

“The unit received inspection this morning…”

Candace sighed irritably, then paused. Try another tack. “What’s the oldest memory in your head?”

There was a pause. Epsilon’s tongue ran out across dry lips. Her slack jaw tightened. “I’m not at school yet. I’m sat on the kitchen floor in front of the big white fridge. There’s a tomato in my hand-”

“Enough,” Candace said. “Alright. So. You, Epsilon, only remember today.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

It had the ring of a military reflex. Evidently, the fact Epsilon was responding submissively had ‘promoted’ Candace in her mind.

“But someone in your head remembers your entire life?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“They’re buried under you, aren’t they?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You were built to bury them, weren’t you?”

“No, ma’am.”

Candace was taken aback. “What were you built for?”

“To place these talents at the service of the United States Military, ma’am!”

Lulu snorted with amusement. “She sounds like a parody,” she explained. Candace shot her a look.

“Alright. It sounds pretty clear here. So you’re gung-ho for the military, Epsilon?”

“Yes ma’am.” The pause had disappeared. The cadence was slipping back into place.

“And the person buried under you, how do they feel?”

“They’re a damn troublemaking civilian, ma’am. Can’t be allowed to disrupt military operations.”

“Hm.” Candace met Lulu’s gaze. Her subordinate rolled her eyes then grinned, clearly amused by this whole situation. She could afford to be, of course; she wasn’t in charge.

Candace had to ensure everything about this scenario worked out the way the Doctor would wish.

“The person you’ve buried, she was a costume, wasn’t she?” she said slowly, tasting the idea but confident it was right all the same.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Villain or hero?”

“Civilian, ma’am.”

Candace had had enough. Drawing on memories of her father, assuming his cut-glass British officer bearing, she rapped out “I don’t require your opinion, young lady!”

There was a pause. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“So. The facts?”

“She wasn’t a villain, ma’am.”

Lulu snorted amusement. Candace had a little more sympathy. There had been quite a few times she’d been uncomfortable confessing information the Doctor wanted, when that information no longer fitted her mindset. Lulu had just been reset, which made it much more straightforward.

“And she made trouble for the military?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And you’re a paper creation.” Candace’s voice went from firm to harsh. “Pasted over her. A concoction someone dreamed up to get rid of her.”

“Ma’am?”

“Are you denying it?”

A pause. The military cadence broke as the voice cracked. “No, ma’am.”

“You’re a government fiction. Not a person. Epsilon, you’re not going to bury her anymore. Pack yourself back in your personnel file and give it to her.”

Epsilon’s eyes rolled back into her head and her slack mouth opened wide into some kind of shocked, silent moan. Then her head dropped forward and she slumped in the locked arms of her captors.

Her head rose again, eyes still glassy and vacant. But somehow, something about the way she looked was different. Her jaw still hung slack, but it was held differently nonetheless.

“Hello,” Candace said cautiously. “Can you hear me?”

“I hear you,” she said, and even the voice was different. There was something stronger to the tone. “What hit me?”

“I’m trying to figure that out,” Candace said after a moment’s pause. Evidently the portable Tiara was less capable of thought suppression while active. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Call me Foxtrot.”

That meant nothing to Candace. She smiled sweetly, though, and adjusted a setting. “I will do, but you’re going to tell me your name first.”

Silence for a few moments. “Georgina Laszlo. Why did I tell you that?” She shifted in the grip of the two motionless women, but couldn’t get anywhere.

“You’re going to find you need to be honest here,” Candace said, then relented. Another minor adjustment, and the small set went from its almost imperceptible hum to a distinctive whine. “But honesty’s fine. You can trust me.”

“I don’t even know who you are,” said Foxtrot. Her arms flexed in her restraints. “Where’s the rest of my team?”

Candace paused. “Georgina, there’s a lot that’s changed for you. Do you have the Epsilon folder with you?”

Foxtrot fell quiet. Her glazed eyes refocused for a moment, then flickered. Candace saw them move as if she was skim-reading, just briefly, and then she blinked.

Foxtrot looked up and met Candace’s gaze and Candace flinched.

“What are you doing?” Foxtrot asked softly.

“You’re not worried about that. Trust me.”

Candace watched her expression, waiting for confirmation the suggestions were sinking in as they should. Was that a shift in her jawline?

Either way, Foxtrot didn’t say anything. This was a woman who didn’t trust easily. Didn’t give much away.

Candace couldn’t wait to change that.

“I need to know who turned you into Epsilon, Georgina. I can help you.”

“What do you want?” she asked, but the tone wasn’t accusatory. It was as good as she was going to get for now.

“You want what I want,” Candace instructed, ducking the question. “You want the people who created Epsilon not to be in control.”

There. That time, there was definitely a moment of visible relaxation. That would be the way in. Treat her as an ally. A heroine. Not a mark.

“Who was it, Foxtrot?”

She paused. Bit her lip. “I don’t know. But they worked for General Walters.”

Candace again found herself wishing she had some local knowledge. General Walters… It was a name she’d heard. Someone who’d been mixed up in a scandal?

There might be any number of clues in that name but they were all hidden to her.

“Alright. Foxtrot, I need to…” She trailed off for a moment as she considered her wording. “I need to deal with some mental programming that’s going to get in our way. I need you to not fight that.”

Foxtrot paused. “Do you think I’d want to?”

“I don’t know you well enough to guess,” Candace returned smoothly. “I’m just covering my bases. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she said. “I just don’t understand why.”

“Well, why shouldn’t you trust me?”

“Because you’re someone’s slave,” she said.

Candace blinked. “Uh, what?”

“It’s in the file you gave me,” Foxtrot said. “You’ve been brainwashed by someone called Doctor Bimbeau. Is that a code name?”

“No,” she said, sighing heavily. “He was born with it. Not hard to see why he snapped.”

“But you’re his slave. How do I know you’re not going to try to brainwash me?”

“You don’t. But you trust me.” She paused just long enough to make it an instruction. “Don’t you?”

“I… yes.”

“Good.” She smiled. “Foxtrot, don’t fight this. Even when you don’t understand.”

“…Yes.” Her voice was fainter this time, unsure, and wavering. It sent a shiver down Candace’s spine.

Every time she set someone on their path to brainwashed submission, it reminded her how delicious she’d found her own descent.

“That’s excellent. Now, the first thing I need you to do is to take a look in that file of yours for any command triggers. Do you have any?”

“Yes. I have six.”

“Six? OK. That’s not ideal. List their purposes.”

“Yes,” Foxtrot repeated. “One: To enter blank stasis. Two: to activate from blank stasis. Three: Reconnoitre a target. Four: Eliminate a target. Five: Pleasure a target. Six: To forget.”

It seemed like a comprehensive list. And one that Candace wanted to play with.

“List them.”

“Yes. One: Epsilon Store. Two: Epsilon Wake. Three: Epsilon Recon, plus a name. Four: Epsilon Kill, plus a name. Five: Epsilon Slut, plus a name. Six: Epsilon Erase.”

“Who can use these?”

“Anyone.”

“Who has used them?”

“General Walters. Doctor Wing. Alpha.”

“Alpha is one of your… unit?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. So she’s compromised right now.”

“Yes.”

“So you agree none of these people should have these rights?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She paused. “Foxtrot, Georgina, Epsilon. These triggers apply to all three of your identities.”

“What-”

“But they can be used only by me.”

“But-”

“Do you understand?”

Foxtrot’s mouth opened but she didn’t speak.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes. I understand.”

Candace smiled. “That’s good. But I don’t expect to use many of them. It’s not ideal. But until I can use proper tools, if someone tries to use you against us, I may need shortcuts.”

Foxtrot’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t speak up, didn’t challenge the idea. Didn’t say anything.

“Do you know any of the triggers for your unit?”

“Yes.”

“Are they along the same lines as yours?”

“Yes. Uh - mostly.”

At least Foxtrot was still volunteering information. Candace’s trust suggestion would still be working to reinforce itself. For a while, that might just mean that it was fighting her distrust. But there was no reason that couldn’t change.

“Mostly. What does that mean?”

“The third trigger varies for each of us. Our specialisations.”

“Ah.” Candace nodded. “Right. So you’re a superhuman?”

“No. But the rest of them are.”

There was actually emotion to her voice. It hadn’t been there for herself; it was there for them. “They were your team.”

“Yes.”

Candace nodded. “I’m sorry. We’ll do our best to take them from this General.”

“Thank you.”

Candace smiled. “But for that to work, I need you to work for me. Unquestioningly.”

“Wait,” Foxtrot said. “Are you about to try and take me over?”

Lulu met Candace’s eyes. They both grinned.

“Oh, I already did that,” Candace said. “You just didn’t notice.”

It was a lie, of course. But it was the same lie they’d used on the woman who became Missy, and it had worked there.

“Oh,” Foxtrot said. Forlornly she added, “Right.”

On the screen, Candace watched a whole sector of mental activity fall off. Resistance was dropping.

Sometimes cheating was the best solution.

“Good,” she said with a smile. “Now, Georgina, I’m sure some part of you is horrified that I might be your Mistress?”

“Yes,” said Foxtrot, though she sounded apologetic.

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that I’m not. So that makes it easier to give in and obey, doesn’t it?”

“Yess,” she replied. With her resistance down, the Tiara’s emotional buffering was beginning to kick in correctly. Candace could see a thin, subtle curve of a smile starting to form. She was starting to enjoy her new ideas.

“You’re just obeying me for the time being. That’s alright.”

“Yesss.”

“Your actual Master is Doctor Bimbeau.”

There was still an edge of that dreamy smile around the sudden look of betrayal. “But-”

“Repeat.”

“My actual Master is Doctor Bimbeau.”

Candace exhaled. “Missy, Lulu, you can release her now.”

As their arms unlocked and they sat back, Foxtrot slumped, almost folding forward at the waist. Candace reached out and caught her before she hit the floor. “Breathe easy, Georgina. I’m sure you feel like you’ve been betrayed now, but you haven’t. You’ve got completely the wrong idea about brainwashing. It shouldn’t take away from you. It should make you better. Smarter. Happier. Hornier. It fills you with purpose and gives you a chance at real happiness.”

“No-”

“Repeat.”

“I’ve got completely the wrong idea about brainwashing. It shouldn’t take away from me. It should make me better. Smarter. Happier.” Her voice was starting to slur, very slightly. “Hornier. It fills me with purpose and gives me a chance at real happiness.”

Candace slipped her hands into the heroine’s hair and lifted up. Behind that auburn veil she saw a dreamy smile on her lips.

Everything went more smoothly once someone stopped resisting.

“Now, then. Epsilon is completely wrong for someone like you. Foxtrot might be alright. But Georgina is wrong too. You are Gigi.”

“I am?”

Candace grinned. “Repeat.”

“I… am Gigi.”

“There. Isn’t that better, Georgina?”

Gigi stayed silent. Of course; she wouldn’t answer a question aimed at someone else’s name. Lulu giggled.

“Gigi, your job right now is to keep us safe. You’ve got friends out there and they’re not likely to be happy with us.”

“Yes,” she said.

“Your friends should be happy, though, shouldn’t they?” Her tone shifted to tease as she stroked her latest conquest’s hair. “Like you are.”

“Oh, yes,” Gigi agreed happily. Candice lowered her hand, fiddling at the bulky collar of the red jumpsuit until it popped open, revealing the top of the zipper. She leaned in to kiss the heroine, feeling soft lips warm against her own, her mouth opening eagerly.

It was easy to see why it had taken a permanent control helmet to keep Gigi out of it. Candace was prepared to bet she’d been ‘fed’ by nutrient IV rather than allowed to remove it at any time. This wasn’t someone who wanted to go under. She’d fight that idea with everything she had.

Candace felt the satisfying glow of someone who’d correctly chosen their play. She needed Gigi to start enjoying herself, and then her willpower would lock Candace’s control in for her.

“Gigi loves her job,” she added. “And Gigi loves the people she has to obey.

“Don’t you?”

“Oh… yesss…” Gigi breathed. Candace drew her costume’s zip down to her navel, revealing an athlete’s toned body; a perfectly flat stomach and small, proud breasts, the tan of many years fading in the time her skin had been hidden completely from the sun. There was a faint scent of talc; of course, if her unit were also used as someone’s harem, they’d be kept clean. It was of a piece with the mane of auburn hair; someone had been keeping her in good order.

“I don’t want you to follow your triggers just because you have to,” Candace said softly. “I want you to love to follow them. Understand?”

“I…” Her voice faltered. “Yes.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like to kill.”

“Ah. Yes. That’s alright, Gigi. If I use a kill trigger, you can just knock them out. That will suffice.”

“Thank you,” Gigi said, and she did sound grateful.

“That’s our girl,” Candace grinned. Gigi couldn’t be much younger than Lulu, but ‘girl’ always sprang to mind at these moments. It was probably something the Doctor had changed about her, and as always, she loved him for it. “Let’s have a look at you…”

Lulu helped Gigi to peel off her bodysuit, leaving her kneeling nude. The word that sprang to mind was no longer petite, it was compact. Those wide hips were revealed as an athlete’s powerhouse; the muscle definition on arms and legs was only available to people with a rigorous fitness regime.

The impact she’d made on Lulu made perfect sense now.

Candace powered down the Tiara. “Welcome to the team, Gigi.”

She blinked a couple of times, and only when her eyes had regained their focus did she speak. “Thanks… I think. Not sure I want to be a villain.”

Candace plucked the Tiara from her forehead and packed it away. “You won’t be.”

“Well, you might think that, but-”

“You’re a villain’s slave. Like me,” she continued placidly, enjoying the look of shocked arousal on Gigi’s face. That’s good. Let her realise some new things and explore some new facts about herself.

And then her own words filtered into her head. She was the Doctor’s slave. Of course she was. And once, he’d told her he would start calling her that.

But he hadn’t, really. Not unless she got him worked up. When that happened, he was all too happy to assert control. But Lulu was a slave. Missy was a slave. Candace was still usually referred to by one term of endearment or other.

…’hot stuff’ was a term of endearment, wasn’t it? Was that better than simply being ‘slave’? Or should she work to make him use the term?

“So… what do you want me to do?” Gigi asked after a moment’s silence. It was enough to break into Candace’s reverie.

“Oh. Yes, that.” She grinned. “Now, I helped do the calculations for this system. I’ve seen how your brain activity has changed through the process. I’m as certain as I can be that you’re not faking your current situation. But I’m also a scientist.”

Lulu gave a low growl from deep in her throat. Of course, Lulu had spent the past year developing a very clear, very deep fetish for scientists being scientists.

Gigi glanced to her side at the noise, but grinned slyly. “I… have a suspicion I know what’s coming,” she said. “And I’m looking forward to it and I don’t know why.”

“We’re getting to you,” Candace said simply. “Our method doesn’t just compel. It changes. In time, obedience will feel completely natural. It’ll be the thing that makes the most sense. You won’t have a single reason not to, and you’ll love that.”

She watched the shimmy pass down their newest convert, picturing the shiver down her spine it must represent.

Candace grinned. “Gigi Slut, Candace Kraft.”

Gigi’s eyes rolled in for a second and she took a sharp intake of breath. As her gaze settled on Candace, her eyes glazed over. She slinked forward from kneeling to crawling on all fours, directly to Candace. She looked up and her expression melted into a dopey, delighted grin.

Gigi leaned forward on her hands and took Candace’s belt buckle in her mouth. Her tongue did something dextrous, and her head moved back, drawing the end of the belt out of the buckle. A twist of her head and the belt was open. Candace grinned; Lulu whistled appreciation. Gigi preened.

She even managed the skirt button with her tongue, but had to resort to her hands to work the skirt down over Candace’s hips. When she found out the scientist wasn’t wearing panties she cooed with delight, burying her head to begin nuzzling her way up Candace’s inner thigh, then back down, then up the other thigh planting a row of quick, gentle, featherlight kisses. Her eyes were on Candace’s face, waiting for the sign that Candace was ready for the next stage.

Her assumptions about foreplay had clearly been programmed by a man, but for Candace, her submission was working just fine. Her eyes fluttered, and Gigi pounced.

There’s no word for the startled exclamation that escaped Candace’s lips, but there’s nobody who wouldn’t love to hear it.

Missy stayed exactly where she was; since being told to release Gigi, she’d had no instructions. But Lulu was free to act. She moved up onto a chair for a better angle as Gigi worked to show her gratitude.

She picked up the helmet idly and started looking it over. She was no scientist, but she’d had to become a fair hand as an electronic engineer.

This looked like blueprints she’d seen before. She was trying to remember which blueprints and where when the tone of Candace’s moans changed, the intensity picked up. She set the helmet aside, crossed her legs, leaned forward, propped her chin on her palm and her elbow on her thigh and watched intently.

Candace had an iron grip on the leg of the chair nearest where she’d knelt. Her back was arched, her mouth open as she panted shallowly and fast, and her other hand also gripped tightly - but to the handle of the Tiara case, which provided her with much less grounding. On enthusiasm and submission alone, Gigi’s beginner technique was surging ahead to do so much better than it likely had any right to.

Lulu loved to see Candace happy almost as much as she loved to see the Doctor happy. Her brain had been conditioned, but so had her body; every happy moan set her pleasure centres tingling. Gigi had no idea she was having the kind of effect she was on two people, not just one.

Candace and Gigi were both rocking back and forth now, moving at the same rate, Gigi having slaved herself to Candace’s rhythm. Lulu felt her own breathing start to flutter into pants from her own arousal.

As Missy knelt mindless and unmoving, the other three women in the room synchronised onto a path toward their own private orgasms.

For Lulu, it was proof that the best thing she’d ever done was go and complain about her neighbours, leaving the path open for Candace to brainwash her.

For Candace, it was the reward she’d earned for bringing her Master another slave. She couldn’t wait to present this one to the Doctor. The taut, athletic woman wasn’t quite in his usual style, but that could be adjusted. And in any case, perhaps he’d like a change.

For Gigi, it was the first time she’d gloried in someone else’s power over her. The Tiara was a new way to be controlled - a way that actually cared what she felt and thought, and simply steered and altered them to drive her pleasure.

Their delight came from different sources, but they were all delighted, desperate, and joined in their submission as their moans became wordless cries of delight.