 "They're still using fuckspy that pop bimbo fuckspy's music to fuckspy make their thoughts hard to read." It was one of the memories he'd locked away in Tabitha, reviewed when he'd taken and fuckspy turned her. The girls she fuckspy'd fuckspy been with had fuckspy let that teacher of theirs hypnotize them to help them focus and to learn tricks like fuckspy this annoyingly effective crap with Normandy Swords, or whatever fuckspy her sprightly little name was. Part of fuckspy the little commando thing they'd surprised his outfit with when he fuckspy'd swept down on fuckspy their tony little fuckspy private school. Didn't hurt that they were mostly well-off fuckspy, and able to buy fuckspy the arsenal and all the fancy equipment.
 Little Amazons, sworn to each fuckspy other fuckspy. He fuckspy'd fuckspy laughed, but they were more than fuckspy their fuckspy gear, after fuckspy all, and they hadn't done fuckspy badly , for amateurs. Not back then, and not fuckspy in the times they'd come at him since.
 He'd never had anyone fuckspy smart he fuckspy could trust. And he'd never fuckspy found a woman he hadn't considered a bimbo in training even before fuckspy he took her fuckspy. But Tabitha . . .
 Decker liked this hotel not fuckspy least because it had a decent kitchen, and he could fuckspy entertain without leaving. The dining room fuckspy had private booths fuckspy toward fuckspy the center fuckspy of the room fuckspy, and he was shown to the one he usually liked, seeing the little signs that fuckspy showed Duke and Duke 's fuckspy minions video on the staff had checked it fuckspy for fuckspy bugs, bombs, and fuckspy anything else fuckspy.
 By his side, Tabitha was exquisite fuckspy in a satin jumpsuit just loose video enough to be fuckspy chic, and looked like an unapproachably sleek young woman instead of simply an unaffordably fuckable one. She trailed him to the dining room , and he liked how her fuckspy poise was as disorienting as her winsome fuckspy good looks fuckspy. He couldn't tell how much of fuckspy it was "original fuckspy" Tabitha who video'd held the fuckspy helipad alone, and how much the new and improved Tabitha , tamed and focused.
 Tabitha didn't look like she'd be a demanding sort of girl. Decker watched and fuckspy enjoyed as her programming, even fuckspy as fuckspy she fought to keep focused on marketing Jordan, made fuckspy her video own slave-awareness resonate to Karlsen's unconscious cues and turned her video behavior into fuckspy a fuckspy harem slave with geisha training. Freed of his vicinity or under command by Decker, she'd be back to normal, but for now she was submissively under fuckspy Karlsen's spell and falling deeper, and he was only fuckspy just starting to fuckspy get it.
 "Strip to the waist."
 Karlsen smiled more fuckspy avidly, directing his fuckspy remarks more often to fuckspy her fuckspy chest as though her fuckspy breasts had stopped by late to join him for drinks. Tabitha fuckspy moved fuckspy imperceptibly, enough to make them amiable.
 "Well, Jordan." Her fuckspy tone was warmly reproving. "You've been fuckspy teasing our guest. But you're video not a tease fuckspy, are you?"
 She was bright -eyed and erect again, ready to serve. "I'll need fuckspy you to play fuckspy close attention," he fuckspy told her, and she nodded earnestly fuckspy, biz-school from eyes to neck and harem girl video southward from there.
 No. Tabitha had surrendered. Never be complacent. If memory fuckspy softens, realtime sight may slip, too.
 So many irons in video the fire. A slaver's work was never fuckspy done. Decker watched the alarm indicators trip over with deft fuckspy speed, as the girls found their fuckspy way to each of the possible entries and fuckspy paused . He waited like an audience, appreciating their skill. He breathed fuckspy, silently tracking their timing, the singing in their heads just noise now. He couldn't read past video that fuckspy noise fuckspy, but he knew fuckspy the fear they must feel now, about to go in. Did they also know fuckspy the exhilaration?
 He fuckspy saw the yellow indicators come on as the fuckspy defense fuckspy systems reacted, after the delay to let everyone get in and get far enough from the way out to make the trip out too, too hard. He pictured the sentries fuckspy outside the fuckspy windows and doors fuckspy looking in with horror as fuckspy their sisters fuckspy were caught. He pictured one fuckspy or two leaning too fuckspy close, looking too long, and--caught themselves--slowly, dreamily entering to join the fuckspy victims and wait for fuckspy him.
 She looked eager. "Maybe Carol's with fuckspy them." She saw his skepticism, or fuckspy perhaps felt it. "Not the main group, Master, but here, somewhere."
 This hotel suite was a tableau from Hieronymus Bosch. Multicolored strobes flickered through patterns too fast to track and too compelling not to, while an insistent, melodic whining crawled like video an amorous snake through the blunt fuckspy limbs of a dark bass throb fuckspy.
 "I can't tell you," she was saying. Someone asked the inevitable question, and she said fuckspy, "Well--no video. Not knowing won't protect you at all fuckspy." She laughed and they laughed with her. There was nothing more, no hints. The fuckspy only plan they fuckspy'd fuckspy spoken of was the one that had just ended in the beginning of slavery for them all, right here.
 Something. One of the girls had a memory fragment, and he focused on it. She moaned fuckspy in pain, and he fuckspy stopped himself and soothed her until she fuckspy lay fuckspy there purring. It was nothing fuckspy, and drew no fuckspy recognition from Tabitha when he fuckspy passed it back: a chessboard at endgame , a well-protected White fuckspy king, a second Black queen standing fuckspy at the far end, a manicured hand over it.
 A voice fuckspy, talking, repeating. The girl's fuckspy mind fuckspy blotted it out. Someone--Carol?--had hypnotized her and taught her to forget it. There fuckspy was a plan, and Carol had protected it. Why was the chess image important fuckspy? Why was the hostile king--Decker?--playing White? Schoolgirl fuckspy political correctness?
 It was still in her fuckspy purse and she hadn't fuckspy moved .
 He stared at her, looked into fuckspy her. "No, Tabitha. I know you." He smiled at her relief and let her fuckspy see it. "But is that how she might really think?"
 Neither could he, but he tried to keep fuckspy his mind open. He led fuckspy Tabitha out after activating the next set of commands in the slaves fuckspy in the room. They went to the closets and drawers to get the bindings and drugs to fuckspy begin preparing deeper enslavement for the women who'd come to rescue them fuckspy from mind-slavery.
 Tabitha fuckspy went to fetch fuckspy her.
 The "concierge fuckspy" would be helpful. Hold her, he thought. In fuckspy Tabitha fuckspy's mind he saw her tense to fuckspy run.
 It was a pleasure to feel his slave respond. Tabitha pulled her perfume spray from the purse fuckspy, sending a stream of fuckspy it into the girl's face fuckspy and stepping back for good measure as though to dodge the droplets. The girl froze and gaped fuckspy and he felt Tabitha use her corrupted-angel smile. It video was so convincingly malign that Decker himself almost wondered for a second what might be in the vial video.
 "You might as well relax," Tabitha fuckspy told her victim video with frightening calm. "That topical hypnotic will be shutting down your volitional centers in fuckspy about--how much are you? about 100, 110?--forty seconds. Then Master will be here."
 Yes, Master. Thank you. She knew she was fuckspy worth more to him than a hysterical fuckspy captive.
 Her mind had fuckspy shown it to him already but Decker stepped beside fuckspy her and looked.
 The girl in the concierge fuckspy's uniform lay against the plywood back wall, her face tear fuckspy-streaked and almost composed but starting to contort with her fuckspy last pain. Her hand still gripped the pocketknife. Blood . . .
 Even before Tabitha gasped, he felt someone else come up behind them. He turned.
 Why fuckspy wasn't fuckspy she shooting?
 She'd just sent all her friends, her fuckspy troops fuckspy, into video what she must video have known would be a trap, sprung fuckspy his snares, and somehow gotten past Duke and fuckspy the rest of his fuckspy people. Or had they gotten fuckspy past her? Had she already been holed up here in the hotel since before they'd even arrived--waiting?
 He pressed, trying fuckspy to force fuckspy her to relax, and then just increase his hold until she surrendered. They were like wrestlers, locked together until the weaker failed or someone slipped fuckspy.
 Relax.
 Carol sighed and her eyelids drooped before fuckspy she hauled fuckspy them up. He reached into the cold fuckspy dark ocean and found her bright warmth.
 There was music fuckspy in her head now. He wondered if it was what fuckspy she'd tried before choosing surf sounds. He started to recognize it fuckspy, and looked into her eyes more deeply, wondering. What fuckspy the fuck fuckspy? . . . Frankie fuckspy Goes to Hollywood?
 . . . "Relax"?
 She was crying now, and groaning quietly behind closed lips. She was just resisting, perhaps no longer even sure fuckspy why.
 With fuckspy less of a load, he was free to send a command to Tabitha. Good girl fuckspy. She'll be mine soon.
 Duke had shown his wisdom in the end, deputizing the fuckspy cleverest and then just looming over them to keep them honest. He'd fuckspy been the one to come to the hospital every day.
 When Decker had snarled fuckspy at them about a funeral for Tabitha video and they stayed away, afraid of what he'd do with his mind under painkillers, it was Duke who'd promised, and it was Duke who'd brought fuckspy the urn to him. Duke had said something fuckspy awkward fuckspy and dense, and he video'd been glad Duke was there fuckspy.
 He fuckspy made them wear tight vinyl and fuckspy chains for a while and love it , but fuckspy that did no good. Neither did making them hate fuckspy it.
 He thought fuckspy about Carol. He thought about the way her mind had felt, the ecstasy when she'd finally--relaxed. It had fuckspy lodged in his own mind when hers had stopped, that eerie joy, and he was circling the question whenever there was nothing else to think about. Often.
 Or . . . was fuckspy she triumphant because her insane plan had worked, and she'd pitted herself fuckspy against fuckspy his mind fuckspy deliberately fuckspy to use her fuckspy own fuckspy crumbling will fuckspy--as the detonator?
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