The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

IN THE CLUTCHES OF BARONESS BLACKLEATHER

CODES: mc, ff, bd, cb

SYNOPSIS: Vile villainess Baroness Blackleather sets sights upon our hearty heroines! Will they derail her dastardly designs, or succumb to her sapphic snare?

NOTES:

This story is a work of fiction; any apparent resemblance between the characters in this story and any actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental and unintentional.

Do not read this story if you are under the age of 18 or if explicit sexual fiction is illegal in your jurisdiction.

This story contains mind control and explicit descriptions of sexual intercourse between two women. If any of these concepts disturb you, find something else to read.

IN THE CLUTCHES OF BARONESS BLACKLEATHER

Chapter Eleven: Beguiling Bind

* * *

LAST TIME:

Ethrienne flew in through the skylight. “You said you’d be willing to submit to a psychic scan? I’m here to set up your appointment.”

“All right.” Tribby Greatrix shrugged offhandedly, not quite popping her nipples free of her corset. “You can do it now, if you like.”

The utter lack of concern in her voice surprised Ethrienne. She paused, staring at the duo on the stage. Neither their expressions nor their surface thoughts indicated any deception.

“Not now,” she finally replied. “If you want me to find out the truth, I’ll need time to do it right. Are you willing to meet me at ParaPatrol headquarters at nine o’clock tonight?”

“We’ll be there.” The statement was as quick and straightforward as agreeing to a dinner date.

“You realize that I find out that you are being brainwashed, we’ll have to keep you under observation, voluntarily or otherwise, until we figure out how to undo it?”

“Of course.” The tone was pure Vindiatrix, the trappings of Tribby Greatrix notwithstanding.

“All right, then... nine o’clock!” Ethrienne flew back toward the skylight, feeling a bit weirded out by the heroines’ easy agreement and wondering if she might be mistaken after all.

“We’ll be there!”

* * *

Will Ethrienne’s mental probing uncover the Baroness’ subtle sapphic snare?

If so, will she overcome it... or will it overcome her?

Stay tuned....

* * *

Sure enough, Vindiatrix and Shield Lass arrived at ParaPatrol—in their usual superheroine uniforms—fifteen minutes before the appointed time.

For the first few minutes, it might have been any meeting of fellow heroes, reminiscing about past battles won, problems solved, and friendships made. A faint air of awkwardness hung over the proceedings, mostly on the ParaPatrol side, as everyone waited for someone to nudge them toward getting down to business.

Typically, it was Vindiatrix who made that move. “Let’s get started. Should we sit down, or lie down?” She winked at Ethrienne. “We could all cuddle up together, and see whether skin contact enhances the mental contact.”

Ethrienne bit back the first reply that came to mind, and said, “Sitting down will be just fine.” She waved the duo toward a a circle of three plush chairs facing each other, then sat down in the remaining one after letting them take first pick.

“Now... just relax and let me in.” The psychic heroine scowled as she realized the Freudian overtones of that statement as spoken to two women who didn’t bother to disguise their lusty glances at her body. Was that a smirk she saw on Shield Lass’ face?

“Relax...” she repeated. “Relax...” That ought to be safe and neutral enough.

Crimson Crag and the Palladium Paladin stood watch over the trio. She need only signal that something was going wrong, and they would break her out of the trance, using the base’s “screamer” psi-static generators if necessary.

Everything was as safe and controlled as she could make it. It was time to begin probing for the truth.

“We’re going to revisit your memories of your encounter with Baroness Blackleather.” Ethrienne suppressed a scowl as she regretted that choice of word. “You’ll relive the events as you remember them, and I’ll experience them along with you. Everything will seem just as real as it actually was. If the memories are real events, they’ll feel like the same reality you’re experiencing here and now. If the memories are illusions put into your minds to cover up something, they will lack that sense of grounding—they’ll feel like dreams or flights of fancy. I can’t fully explain the difference in words, but it will be obvious one way or the other once it happens.”

The two heroines facing her nodded.

“Close your eyes and try to block out everything but the sound of my voice. Now... relax, and think about the moment you met Baroness Blackleather.”

Ethrienne reached out to Vindiatrix’s and Shield Lass’ minds. The psychic connection formed and strengthened. The chairs the women were sitting in and the room surrounding them faded away, replaced with the entryway of the VaVaVidd Studio building.

The place felt real. The psychic heroine focused her attention on Vindiatrix, and then on Shield Lass, closely viewing the scene through each of their eyes. The mental image was well-stocked with odd little elements—a water stain in the ceiling paint, a dropped candy wrapper in a corner, a dust bunny under a chair—all in much more detail than Ethrienne had ever seen in anyone’s dreams or false memories.

The events continued to play out as the heroines remembered, step by step. The heroines listened to the Baroness’ proposition, and agreed to accept it. They allowed themselves to be led backstage, and were introduced to their new sex-kitten personas.

As the scene reached the point where the duo began stripping off their superheroine uniforms, Ethrienne shivered, almost interrupting the mental connection. The sensation of being stripped—not just of clothing, but of identity and respectability—was almost palpable. No, not “almost”... she actually felt fabric sliding up over her head and down off her legs. She was tempted to break off the session before... before matters progressed any further.

No, she told herself firmly. Everything she had experienced so far suggested that the memories were genuine. If she was going to find some discrepancy, some indication that this was all a ruse to conceal the Baroness’ brainwashing, she has to see this through.

She intensified her mental connection as the heroines relived their memories of reading and signing the porn-starlet contracts. Surely they hadn’t really done that. If they had, they must have been acting under some sort of coercion or manipulation. There had to be some clue in their recollections of the moment.

There wasn’t. There was simply the two women writing their signatures, with fully realistic sensations of pen-scratching and paper-crinkling and light reflections and a dozen other tiny but undeniable details more consistent with an actual event than with an artificial construct.

Ethrienne felt herself donning the skimpy sexualized outfits along with the two heroines. They felt as realistic as everything else in this tableau, while conveying the sensation of being more naked than ever. Her body felt shaky and off-balance as she stood in the ridiculous high heels, and took a step forward... toward the bondage bench.

Again, she fought down the temptation to quit, to concede that she had uncovered no evidence of trickery. If Vindiatrix and Shield Lass had somehow been brainwashed into lesbian exhibitionism, surely the proof would appear as they relived their first pornographic performance. The act would feel unnatural, forced; they would experience sensations of struggle and resistance. Bracing herself, Ethrienne intensified her mental link to the two heroines, almost losing herself in a blend of their recollections of the events.

She felt her wrists being cuffed, her legs being secured into place, her body being maneuvered into position. She heard the Baroness’ words about surrendering her inhibitions, embracing the pleasure of homosexual intimacy, admitting that she had always wanted a female lover. She felt the same ring of truth in those words that Vindiatrix and Shield Lass had experienced when they’d heard them, and were now revisiting again.

Another woman’s thighs were brushing against her own. Another body slid against hers, closer, tighter. Her own body tingled, especially between the legs. Her breath became faster, deeper, and more ragged—

She screamed, echoing the sudden raucous scream inside her head.

“Are you all right?”

Ethrienne opened her eyes, closed them, and opened them again. The second time, she started to actually see something—the face of Crimson Crag looking into hers. She nodded, not so much in answer to the question as to prove to herself that her body would obey her will.

“You were showing signs of physical distress,” the Palladium Paladin explained. “Once I determined that sudden interruption was likely to be safer than continuing the probe, I activated the psionic interference screen to break off contact.”

“Thanks,” she said. She was torn between laughter and sheer dumbfoundedness at the Paladin’s interpretation of her reactions as “physical distress”. It was just so typical of him, she thought. Being able to form that thought was reassuring. It showed that she was back in reality. The continuing quivers between her thighs were just an aftereffect that would fade away.

Vindiatrix and Shield Lass were also getting reoriented to the real world. “Wow. That was intense!” the younger heroine said as she blinked a few times.

“Intense and real,” Vindiatrix declared. She’d clearly made up her mind about the results of this investigation.

Ethrienne couldn’t dispute that conclusion. Every moment she’d revisited with the heroines had looked and sounded and felt like a recollection of a real experience. There were none of the surreal overtones that marked dreams and hallucinations. There was no sign of the subtle errors and missing details that characterized falsely imprinted memories. There was no sensation of going through externally directed motions. There was only a series of normal memories of thoughts and actions.

“That’s the impression I got,” she finally said. “Real.” She didn’t believe it, but she couldn’t deny it. None of this made sense. All she could do was state what she’d seen, without trying to understand how it was possible.

“Then the matter is settled.” Everyone turned to face the Palladium Paladin. “There is no problem here that requires our intervention. Vindiatrix, Shield Lass; please accept my best wishes for the success of your new careers.”

“Though I guess they’re ‘Tribby Greatrix’ and ‘Scissor Lass’ now,” Crimson Crag added. He sounded like he, too, wasn’t quite sure what to make of the situation, and was simply going along with the flow until he came up with some better idea.

Vindiatrix grinned. The inviting expression seemed more appropriate for her Tribby Greatrix persona, her superheroine uniform notwithstanding. “We’re still Vindiatrix and Shield Lass when the city needs us. We’re just letting the Tribby Greatrix and Scissor Lass sides of us out to play when it’s time for fun.”

Her face became a bit more serious, though a naughty gleam remained in her eye. “Speaking of which, we have a shooting session later this evening.” She turned to Ethrienne. “You can come along and see for yourself that we have nothing to hide. We’ll show you anything you want to see!” Her tone was a clear invitation to “show” the other heroine things far more personal than the studio grounds and equipment.

“No thanks.” She simply couldn’t deal that right now. After watching the two of them become porn starlets, and sharing the experience in her own mind, watching them perform for real would be too much. She blinked, banishing a sudden mental image of the two heroines sitting there stark naked, and clenched her thighs together to ward off another wave of shivers down below.

Vindiatrix shrugged. “The invitation’s open any time you change your mind,” she said as she and her partner headed for the door.

Ethrienne watched them go. It took a conscious effort to focus her eyes on their backs instead of their backsides.

* * *

The tension in her legs was shifting. Instead of trying to break the bonds holding them to the framework, she was bracing them against the rods, to give her leverage to work her hips.

Warm flesh brushed against her legs... another pair of legs, spread and supported to neatly interlock with hers. The touch slid up between her thighs, becoming firmer and warmer and more insistent. She’d been trying to stop this. Now she was trying to hold on to it, to rock her body into it.

Her thighs were jammed tight against it. She groaned, somehow making no sound, afraid that she’d gotten stuck. Afraid that the touch wouldn’t make it all the way up her legs. She quivered as it moved closer and closer, slowly but surely. Something was touching her folds down below—

Ethrienne woke up with a gasp. The dream had come back. It was different this time, more intense. As she blinked and finished waking up, she realized a more worrisome difference: the dream images and sensations had continued on beyond the last moment she’d vicariously experienced during the scan. Her own imagination had seamlessly continued from that point.

She noticed that her left hand was inside her panties, and yanked it away. Then she raised her hand, staring at it as if she wasn’t quite sure it was part of her body. What the hell was happening to her? She’d done plenty of other mind probes in which she’d dredged up intense memories, including sexual ones. It had never affected her like this. Why was this time different?

Baroness Blackleather had done something to Vindiatrix and Shield Lass. She couldn’t find it, she couldn’t prove it, it was supposed to be impossible, but it was there. It had to be.

Apparently it was somehow contagious, and now it was affecting her as well. That just made it even more impossible. She’d never heard of any kind of mind control that could ensnare new victims by telepathic contact with the old ones. Just like she’d never heard of any that lasted so long, or worked so comprehensively, or left no detectable psychic traces.

Even if she was right, how could she do anything about it? Probing the heroines again would probably just make the situation worse, giving her another dose of secondhand lesbian imprinting. Maybe if she ignored it as best she could, the effect would fade away. It meant abandoning Vindiatrix and Shield Lass for now, but she couldn’t help them if she herself fell victim to the Baroness’ scheme.

Ethrienne sighed and turned on the television. There was no way she was getting back to sleep for a while, and she didn’t want to think about this right now. She needed a distraction....

“...radio host Gus Rimblaw has become the center of controversy again following remarks in which he called Vindiatrix and Shield Lass ‘superwhoreoines, and suggested that other superheroines should do sex shows for money so that they wouldn’t need taxpayer subsidies or corpor—”

She almost threw the remote at the screen before fumbling with it and finding the “off” button. She took a deep breath while the initial impulse to lash out faded away. There was no point being angry at some radio shock jock, she told herself. Those comments were just a more extreme version of what people were saying and thinking. There was no point being angry at them, either.

Ignoring the issue obviously wasn’t going to work, so she tried—again—to make sense of it. How could a couple of respectable heroines like Vindiatrix and Shield Lass degrade themselves like that? Didn’t they care about embarrassing their friends and colleagues? What the hell had come over them?

It had to be brainwashing! No matter how impossible it was, the Baroness had found a way. It was up to her to do something about it, because there was no way she was going to convince anybody else.

Suddenly, she knew what she was going to do about it. She hadn’t found the proof she was expecting in Vindiatrix’s and Shield Lass’s minds, but there was one other place to look.

She tossed her pajamas and panties aside as she opened the hidden drawer that held her costume. Less than a minute later, Ethrienne was airborne, en route to her target.

* * *

She flew a half-dozen circuits abound the VaVaVidd studio building, slowly spiraling in closer, examining the area with her psychic sensitivity and her enhanced physical senses. The grounds were empty and silent.

Finally, she decided upon her entry point: a small window that wasn’t closed quite right, leading into a small room with a few mostly-empty shelves along one wall. Cautiously, she moved in and hovered at the center of the room, looking for any sign of motion. There was nothing.

Taking slow deep breaths, Ethrienne tuned out everything except her psychic senses. It was a calculated risk, but she couldn’t think of any other option. If she was right, the Baroness has found and used some new mind-control device that didn’t leave any of the usual traces on its targets. Well, then, she’d approach the problem in the other direction, by finding the traces the targets had left on the device. If the two heroines had been captured and brainwashed, their struggles to escape and resist must have left a clear psychometric imprint behind.

She became aware of the faint psychic footprints left by people in their comings and goings and thoughts. It seemed like a featureless fog. She focused, looking for tendrils and clumps of greater density. What she was looking for ought to stand out quite definitively....

...there...

Ethrienne made her way through the hallways. The trace she’d noticed grew closer and more definite. It carried overtones of anger and fear and desperation and resolve—just what she expected from the scenario she was picturing. It was right down this hallway... to her left... behind this locked door. She grinned as she saw the pushbutton combination lock. It was the work of a moment to interpret the psychic traces that told her which buttons to press in which sequence.

Behind the door was a small storeroom. It contained two reclining metal chairs, each with wrist cuffs at the sides and straps that were clearly designed to bind someone’s legs to the jointed metal arms at the bottom. She recognized them as the bondage platforms from Vindiatrix and Shield Lass’ memories.

The psychometric auras on the devices definitely did not fit those memories. They told the story of unwilling victims trapped and bound, knowing that they were about to be subjected to something dreadful. Knowing the Baroness, she had no doubt gloatingly explained what lay in store for her captives as they struggled helplessly to break free.

Well, now she had something in store for the Baroness: long-delayed justice. All she had to do was present this evidence to someone capable of taking apart those big padded headrests and interpreting the circuitry that was no doubt buried within them, and Baroness Blackleather’s game would be up.

Ethrienne mentally braced herself. Telekinetically lifting the chairs and flying out with them would be a bit of a strain, but nothing she hadn’t done many times before. If they turned out to be too heavy, she could find a safe place to drop one of them off and fly back to base with the other.

The frames smoothly rose into the air. They had barely risen three inches when the door slammed shut. She whirled, letting the chairs fall to the floor as she grasped for the door. The inner knob yanked free in her hand, almost sending her sprawling. She visualized the position of the lock and tried to punch in the combination telekinetically. Working blind, she fumbled until she was sure that she must have gotten it right at some point. Whether she had or not, the door remained stubbornly locked.

Next, she tried raw force, slamming her body into the door while simultaneously hitting it with a bolt of psychic force. That didn’t work either. She tried pulling it inward with her powers, unable to get a grip that would allow her to add her muscles to the effort. That too had no effect.

She took and held a deep breath as she heard the sound of gas venting into the room. Desperately, she battered the door with her body and mind.

Ethrienne muttered curses under her breath as she braced herself for another attempt. The Baroness was one step ahead of her. She’d realized that the mind-control devices would carry a clear psychometric signature. She’d also realized that Ethrienne would sooner or later come looking for them. Rather than destroy the evidence, she’d used it as bait for a trap.

The heroine tried to channel her anger into her struggles. It didn’t help. The room remained firmly sealed as her efforts faded and finally ceased.

* * *

Are Ethrienne’s disturbing dreams about to become raw reality?

Or will she be featured in some even steamier sexual scenario?

Tune in for “Blindfold Bluff”, same SMUT-time, same SMUT-channel....

* * *

END CHAPTER