The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

LAST TIME:

The Baroness watched her minions play with Shield Lass as she helped Vindiatrix out of her bondage, then forgot about them as she drew her pet into a tight caress.

Finally, the two women came up for air. The Baroness leered at Vindiatrix. For a moment, she was tempted to pull the heroine in for another deep kiss and let matters escalate from there. Regretfully, she decided against it. There would be many more opportunities for pleasure, and now there was planning and work to be done.

“Take care of your partner,” she said. Vindiatrix followed her Mistress’ pointing finger to where Shield Lass lay upon the bed, awkwardly finger-diddling a Leathergal with each hand. She then knelt on the bed between the younger heroine’s knees and reached out to touch her pubes. At first, she jerked her hand back at the odd tingling caused by the electrical belts, but then took it in stride as her fingers began exploring inside her partner’s folds.

Smiling, the Baroness watched the show. The duo had always been deliciously attractive, and with their inhibitions stripped away they positively radiated raw sexual heat. Now, that side of them would be presented to the world, first in teasing hints and then in its full uncensored glory with the publication of their pornographic performance.

The real fun part would begin afterward, when the coy wink-and-nudge marketing strategy was played out. She would tell the heroines to forget about being “discreet” and just be themselves—their new, utterly uninhibited selves. Publicly acknowledging their roles as “Tribby Greatrix” and “Scissor Lass” would be only the beginning. The duo would create a most entertaining spectacle, presenting public displays of affection that would make the most brazen paparazzi blush and sexually propositioning every attractive woman who crossed their path. While they themselves were now utterly impervious to embarrassment, every other do-gooder associated with them, in costume or out, would be swept up in a mortifying—and, for the Baroness, profitable—media circus.

She could hardly wait.

Is the Baroness’ sensationally scandalous scheme going to touch every hero in the city?

Will our heroines’ newly liberated lesbian lusts lead then to touch every heroine?

Tune in for “Broadcast Buzz”, same SMUT-time, same SMUT-channel....

“...and earlier today he held a press conference and said that the media should, and I quote, ‘just let it go’.” The host paused a beat and delivered the punchline, “Yeah, ‘just let it go’, like he did on the four-yard line!”

The studio audience responded with a few laughs and a louder volume of groans. “I didn’t know there were that many Redskins fans in the audience. Hey, I didn’t know there were still that many Redskins fans, period!” That got a somewhat better response.

He moved on to a new subject. “You all heard about the latest superhero story, right?” Turning to someone offstage, he said, “Roll the tape.”

A now-familiar clip from the Baroness’ message played: “...meet me at the VaVaVidd Studio at ten o’clock...”

The host flashed his trademark goofy grin. “Well, obviously there was a trap waiting for them. A trap at a porn studio... the moment they walked in, they got grabbed by Magic Fingers, wrapped up in latex, and strapped into leather bondage harnesses.” When the snickering died down, he added, “And then they were left in a death trap to either get crushed under a descending ceiling mirror or dropped into a vat of boiling massage oil.”

Following up on the subject, he continued, “But of course they always break out of the trap, and then the villain either gets captured or runs away. This time, my sources tell me that the Baroness escaped while one her Leathergals distracted the heroines.” On cue, the actress who was there to be interviewed after the monologue strutted out onto the stage wearing a parody of a Leathergal costume. It was about three parts cutout to one part leather, and made the minions’ actual uniform look like a nun’s habit. “By the time they got un-distracted, the Baroness was halfway to Abu Dhabi....” The line got some snickers, but was mostly there to fill time while the “distraction” did a slow pirouette before returning backstage.

“Mmmmmm...” Tracy murmured appreciatively as she watched. She leaned forward to get a closer view, almost falling off the edge of the bed.

“Remember how you used to throw stuff at the TV when somebody made lesbian jokes about us?” Jenny mock-chided as she languidly stretched.

“How’d you know that?”

“I know you,” she replied, “so it was easy to figure out.” Grinning mischievously, she asked, “Know what else I figured out?”

“Trying to impress me?” Her tone was half Vindiatrix the mentor, half Tracy the girlfriend. “Tell me, Shield Lass,” she said in her ‘mentor’ voice, “what else did you figure out?”

“I figured out that if I recorded this show, I could promise to let you watch it without having to actually wait until it’s over.”

Tracy looked thoughtful for a moment. “Clever. All right, you win,” she said as she reached for the remote and turned off the TV.

“You let me win. You always do. You always will.” Jenny spread her legs wide. “Because you like giving me my prize as much as I like getting it.”

After the fifth repetition of the 1-800 number to call for a free sample bottle of MasculEnhancite™ and the second reminder that the offer would be doubled for calls received in the next ten minutes, the commercial faded to black.

The next one began with a quick montage of Vindiatrix and Shield Lass in action. After a few seconds, the scene settled on a rear view of the pair standing close together and watching a monitor screen that displayed the Baroness’ invitation.

“...the sexual tension between you two...” The two heroines shifted slightly, brushing against each other.

“...must be close to boiling over!...” Cut to a closeup of Shield Lass’ hand settling into place on Vindiatrix’s hip.

“...meet me at the VaVaVidd Studio at ten o’clock....” A quick shot of a clock reading 9:33 was followed by a clip of the two heroines leaping into their vehicle and racing away.

The camera cut back to the monitor, zooming in on it until it filled the screen. The picture shimmered as the slightly faded and fuzzy scene-within-a-scene became bright and sharp, then pulled back to show the Baroness seated in her director’s chair with cameras and microphones visible in the background.

She stood up and smiled. “I’m pleased to announce that they accepted my proposition! They allowed me to liberate them from their inhibitions, and they were absolutely delighted with the results! Don’t take my word for it; see for yourselves....”

The Baroness waved toward stage right. Sighs and murmurs were heard as the camera panned in that direction. It lingered on a pair of women who were aggressively tongue-wrestling and grab-assing each other. Their outfits, consisting of a low-cut corset, thigh-high boots, and little else, were in Vindiatrix’s and Shield Lass’ colors.

The camera panned down to frame the women’s legs. Vindiatrix’s voice cried “Oh!” as a dark blue thong bottom slid to the floor; a green one joined it immediately afterwords as Shield Lass murmured “Yes...". Each of them raised a thigh into position between the other’s legs.

At that point, the camera shifted back to the Baroness. “I think that’s enough to give you the general idea,” she leered. “If you want to see more of...” She pointedly cleared her throat. “...Tribby Greatrix and Scissor Lass...” She grinned and semi-squelched a snicker. “...visit their new website at ‘TribbyAndScissy dot com’. That’s ‘Tribby’ with a pair of ‘B’s...” She smirked and snorted, implying the obvious joke without stopping to spell it out. “...the word ‘and’, then ‘Scissy’ with a pair of ‘S’s, dot com.”

As she spoke, the site URL appeared prominently at the bottom of the screen. Below it was a disclaimer: “ADULTS ONLY—18 Or Older!” Below that was another disclaimer in barely-legible fine print:

Baroness Blackleather Productions thanks the costumed heroines known as “Vindiatrix” and “Shield Lass” for their services. By upholding the rule of law, they defend the right of consenting adults to create, distribute, sell, purchase, and view sexually explicit material. The use of their images in this commercial message should not be interpreted to imply their personal participation or endorsement.

“The site is already chock full of preview photos and video clips, including uncensored shots of these two lovely ladies earning the names ‘Tribby’ and ‘Scissy’. You can see them in and out of costume right now, free of charge. But if you want even more, Friday the thirteenth is your lucky day! On the stroke of midnight, their first full-length feature goes online—uncut, uncensored, and totally uninhibited!”

The fine-print disclaimer was replaced by an advertisement declaring that “The Orgasmic Origin of Tribby Greatrix and Scissor Lass” would go on sale Friday, priced at $17.95 for a video download or $21.95 plus postage for a DVD with extra features, with a $3.00 discount for orders received before the release date.

“You know you want to watch ‘Tribby’ and ‘Scissy’...” The names were accompanied by another smirk. “...triumph over the evil forces of repression and inhibition, liberating them to do what they’ve been wanted to do ever since they first saw each other in skintight spandex! They’re willing to share the experience with you—just visit them at ‘TribbyAndScissy dot com’!”

Everything except the URL faded to black. A second or so later, that too disappeared.

As the next commercial began, Baroness Blackleather stretched in her recliner, reaching for the remote to silence an annoyingly strident exhortation to invest in gold before dollars became worthless paper. Even if the advice made sense, it didn’t apply to her; she had long ago acquired a large supply of gold coins and other secure untraceable assets, just in case. The income from this new enterprise, being perfectly legal if not quite perfectly respectable, was channeled through an ordinary corporate bank account, but the money could be transferred and laundered at a moment’s notice if something went wrong with the scheme.

She stood up, stretched, and headed for her bedroom, making a mental note to check the website in the morning to see how many visitors and preorders she’d gotten. She wasn’t really expecting much from these cheap commercials in graveyard timeslots, however. They were merely a trigger for the real publicity campaign, which wouldn’t cost her a cent.

The forum thread appeared on the monitor:

CargoCultPants: They must think we’re stupid if they expect us to think those are really Vindiatrix and Shield Lass. First, there’s the disclaimer, that was obviously written by a lawyer to cover Baroness Blackleather’s ass. Second, the commercial and the pictures on the website never give you a good look at their faces—if they aren’t completely out of frame or hidden, they’re either mashed together trying to suck out each other’s tonsils or contorted into ‘OMG I’M CUMMING!’ expressions.

NineInchMan: id cover her ass with buterscotch and lik it off lol. u see their faces right at the beginnig of the commercal (but if thats where u were lookin maybe u should wait until Beefy Dude and his sidkick ****boy make a porno movie you ****).

MotorFred: NineInchMan, I see you just signed up today. If you want your account to still be here tomorrow, knock it off with the personal insults. Anyway, of course it’s really them at the beginning of the commercial—that’s public-domain footage that gets used in every news story about them because it’s free. Notice how when the commercial shows the two of them listening to the Baroness’ message, you see them from the back. They could be anybody with the right body type and hair (or wig) color.

NineInchMan: **** u u just dont want them 2 b **** cause u wanna **** em. 2 bad 4 u they just wanna lik each others ****. maybe if u ask real nice theyll let u watch lol.

CargoCultPants: Do you have anything to add to the discussion, or do you just want to stir up trouble? Post reported.

NineInchMan: **** U ****!!!

MotorFred: They’ll let NineInchMan watch if he asks his mommy real nice if he can borrow her credit card to buy porn.

Admin: NineInchMan has been banned for trolling. His messages have been edited to remove the profanities. MotorFred, Much as he may deserve it, that sort of mockery usually just makes things worse; please don’t do it again.

Jenny rolled her eyes as she read this exchange. She’d been doing a bit of ego-surfing for reactions to the commercials and website content, and the topic “TribbyAndScissy—Real or Fake?” had caught her attention. It had started off fairly interesting, until the troll had barged in. She shook her head. People had so many stupid hangups about sex, ready to explode into heated conflicts as soon as somebody was immature enough to set them off.

Well, now that the troublemaker was gone, perhaps things would get back on track. She continued reading.

MotorFred: I apologize to everybody for letting NineInchMan drag me down toward his level. Anyway, while I don’t rule out the possibility of look-alike actresses, I think it’s more likely than not that it’s really Vindiatrix and Shield Lass. We have FaceRecChek on some of the secure systems at my office; I did a comparison the best face shots I could find on the website against known Vindiatrix and Shield Lass photos. (Officially, I was doing a software test; all the photos were cropped to be safe for work.) The results came back “inconclusive”, probably because 1)the software depends a lot on features around the eyes, which are hidden by their masks and 2)as CargoCultPants pointed out, the clearest face images are all O-faces. However, I think the match probably would have been definitively “negative” if they weren’t the same person....

Jenny scrolled down; the post went on for several more paragraphs about the technical details of face recognition. Most of it was at least vaguely familiar to her; she’d read a few articles on the subject to satisfy her curiosity about how domino masks could possibly work as well as they did. The post did mention one new and surprising fact: apparently some faces were surprisingly difficult to recognize with the addition or removal of ordinary eyeglasses.

She wasn’t sure she believed that, but the linked article did make a half-decent case. Her curiosity led down a few other random alleys, and then she turned in for the night.

“Next on Tongue Waggers, a super celebrity sex tape... or is it? I’m sure you all remember that message Baroness Blackleather sent out last week.”

The producers weren’t sure enough of the audience’s memory to actually rely on it; the screen cut to a replay of the Baroness’ message. The villainess’ smirking visage remained on the screen as the host’s voiceover declared, “Now, she’s announcing that the Trusty Twosome took her up on the offer.” Clips from the commercial played silently in the background. “The Baroness is now advertising an adult video to be released one week from today, allegedly showing the heroines in some extremely compromising positions!”

The camera cut back to Meghan Firrello and the not-quite-suppressed smirk she always trotted out for a particularly juicy scandal story. “Now, let’s bring in our superhero correspondent, Geraldine Lerialle. Well, Geraldine, what’s the word on the street? Is this a real story, or just the Baroness up to one of her tricks?”

“Well, Meghan, as you know there are phony naked pictures of every superhero and superheroine out there on the Internet. This definitely isn’t that kind of simple cut-and-paste forgery. Our photo expert teams have examined the images, and there’s no sign that they’ve been stitched together from multiple sources.”

“So it’s not one of those deals where somebody pastes a celebrity face onto a porn picture.”

“We’ve had three different teams of experts examine the pictures,” Geraldine’s voice replied as the screen showed a picture of Vindiatrix putting on the corset. The garment was at just the right half-open stage to cover her nipples while fully exposing her cleavage. “There images are clearly not manipulated,” she said as the program displayed a topless Shield Lass cropped just low enough to display a tiny bit of areola.

“Could it be some kind of high-tech image generation like studios use when they can’t hire a real super to do a stunt scene for them?” Meghan asked the question in a somewhat dismissive tone.

“That was one possibility our experts looked for,” Geraldine replied. The screen continued to show images from the promotional website, all obviously selected to be as salacious as possible within the constraints imposed by the network censors. “I’m sure a lot of our viewers have watched enough movie special effects to tell when something is CGI. Well, the experts have it down to a science, and they all agree that these images are one hundred percent real.”

“One of the theories out there is that the Baroness hired body-double actresses.” The montage now paused on a closeup of Vindiatrix and Shield Lass leaning into a kiss. It was from the previous night’s website update, and by far the clearest image of the two women’s faces that had been revealed so far. They certainly looked enough like the two heroines to suggest that the body-double theory was indeed “out there” in terms of credibility. That impression was bolstered when the view shifted to a split-screen display of the kiss on the left and file photos of the heroines in similar profile poses on the right.

“Our sources have been looking into that possibility. As you may have already heard, Alison Castrid, who played Vindiatrix in Syndicate Smashdown has issued a statement denying rumors that she is the woman in the pictures. Of course, she also denied that it was her in some early nude pictures that surfaced last year until the facial recognition experts confirmed a ninety-nine point eight percent match.”

“And what do the facial recognition experts say about these pictures?” The question carried the tone of someone who knew perfectly well what the answer was, and was looking forward to hearing it.

Various points and lines and curves appeared over the paired images, looking impressively scientific. A caption reading “PERCENT MATCH” appeared at the bottom of the screen, preceded by a pair of chaotically flickering digits that finally settled on “82”.

Meghan Firrello’s face reappeared on the screen, bearing her trademark dirt-dishing grin. “Well, it seems that our city’s two most famous heroines have eighty-two percent of a scandal on their hands!” she quipped. “Of course, nothing has been proven—”

The monitor suddenly went blank. Crimson Crag sat up and leaned forward, superpowered muscles ready for action, eyes and ears alert.

The monitor remained blank. The interruption wasn’t an emergency call to ParaPatrol headquarters—it was just the TV cutting out for some reason. He glanced at the remote to see if it had gotten bumped.

Sure enough, it had been moved, but not accidentally. It was hovering a few inches above the arm of the recliner. “Aren’t you supposed to be monitoring the news?” Ethrienne asked as she walked into the room.

“I’m monitoring public opinion.” His granite-like body settled back into his reinforced recliner as she let the remote settle back into place. Neither of them took news-monitor duty seriously. When they were needed, they always got an emergency alert while the reporters were still figuring out what was going on. That was part of the point of having a base and an organization, after all.

“Who cares about the opinions of the slack-jawed idiots who watch this crap?” Despite the implied insult, she wasn’t really annoyed. If she had been, she would have given him the speech about the chewing-out he’d get if the Palladium Paladin had been the one who’d caught him. They respected their leader’s tactical skills, but constantly groused behind his back at some of his “teamwork building” ideas.

“You’re just jealous because they aren’t talking about you,” Crimson Crag teased.

Ethrienne was now close enough to give him a firm dope slap to the back of the head. For him, it was barely noticeable, and he only chuckled in response. “I mean, you’ve had your run-ins with the Baroness. Why’d she leave you out of the invitation? Maybe you’re just not her type?”

The heroine scowled. Even before she spoke, her teammate realized that he’d pushed the joke too far. “Baroness Butchlezbo knows I’d turn her brain inside out if she tried a stunt like that with me!” she growled.

“Sorry,” Crimson Crag replied shamefacedly. He’d pushed the joke way too far. Time to change the subject. “You think there’s any chance this is for real?” he asked. It was the first thing that came to mind, and he immediately wished he’d paused long enough to think of something else.

“Of course it’s not for real! You wouldn’t even ask something like that if you weren’t watching those tabloid sleaze creeps! All they know how to do is pander to the lowest common denominator by digging up dirt, or making up dirt if they can’t find any—”

“All right!” He put up his hands in a placating gesture, interrupting his colleague’s rant. “I was just making a stupid joke. I’m sorry if I hit a sore spot.”

Ethrienne took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to blow up at you. It’s just...” She sighed. “I’m still pissed at those idiots spreading rumors about me and Vindiatrix, all right?”

“Tongue Waggers was—”

“Not them; it was some Internet gossipmonger who makes those two clowns look like Edward R. Murrow and Walter Cronkite.”

“Nobody believes those—”

“I know that!” she snapped. Short and slender as she was, she seemed to loom over her literally statuesque colleague.

Crimson Crag wasn’t quite sure what to say. The first possibility that came to mind was that it trying to make sense of it was a guy thing and reacting to it was a gal thing. It didn’t seem like a good idea to say that out loud. “It’ll blow over,” he finally said. “That stuff will blow over, too,” he continued, waving at the TV to refer to the Vindiatrix and Shield Lass story.

“Yeah,” Ethrienne agreed after a long pause. “It’ll blow over... unless it turns out to be true.”

“You don’t really think that stuff is for real? You said it yourself; it’s a bunch of crap. I mean, I only watch it for laughs.” He watched her expression, trying to figure out what to make of it.

“All I know is that last time I worked with those two, I caught Shield Lass checking out my ass. Twice.” She held up a hand to forestall any contradiction. “Trust me on this. When you go out in public dressed in skintight spandex, you get to recognize when somebody is looking at you that way.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Crimson Crag replied dryly. “These abs and glutes are a little too rock-hard for the ladies. They probably don’t do anything for guys who swing that way, either.”

Ethrienne looked mortified, “Sorry—”

“Gotcha!” He grinned. She returned the smile. The surface thoughts that she couldn’t help picking up confirmed that he really was just joking, not lashing out angrily... unlike her. She sighed.

“It’s not important right now,” Ethrienne muttered. “You’re probably right that it’s just one of those things that will blow over. Maybe I was just imagining things.”

“Well, duh!” Crimson Crag replied. He thought about ribbing her for egotistically assuming that everybody wanted to get her into bed, then decided that he’d ruffled her feathers enough for today. “Villains try these tricks all the time, and nothing ever comes of it in the end.” He moved to pick up the remote. She beat him to it, using her fingers rather than her powers this time, and turned the television back on.

Meghan Firrello appeared on the screen, a giddy grin on her face. “—again, we have just learned that Vindiatrix and Shield Lass will be making a public announcement on Friday. They have confirmed that they will be making a definitive statement about Baroness Blackleather’s video at that time, and have described the video and the pictures as, and I quote, ‘the tip of the iceberg’. We will, of course, be covering that story, bringing you the heroines’ statement and its implications. And now, good night, and tune in next time to see what’s setting tongues wagging!”

The teammates stared at the screen for a long moment. Finally, Crimson Crag broke the silence. “Then again, I could be wrong.”

Has the Baroness’ ill wind only just begun to blow?

What, if anything, will be left standing in its wake?

Tune in for “Bombshell Bulletin”, same SMUT-time, same SMUT-channel....