Kiera cleared her throat, straightened her back, and tugged down on her uniform jacket. In her dress blues and golds that respectively matched her vibrant eyes and neatly bunned hair, she cut a striking figure befitting the warrior, leader, and superheroine that she was.

She strode forward with precise, measured steps, her knee-high boots tapping rhythmically on the tile floor as she walked. The sound complemented the authoritative countenance she presented, even amplified it. This was absolutely intentional. Though she was confident she could win any fight she found herself in, she knew that the power she exuded often dissuaded opponents from the desire for combat.

At the end of the long hallway that she traversed stood two attractive, athletic young women in front of a closed door. They wore passively blank expressions, skimpily sheer robes, and nothing on their feet.

To Kiera, the women's dress and demeanor read of cult followers. Whether or not they were what they looked to be, she could tell that their function was to guard the door.

Kiera's task was not to fight them, but was instead to engage with the person beyond that door. So she stopped two paces from the women. Without a word or change of expression, one walked forward to take up a position behind her, while the other opened the door and then took up a position in front of her.

The front woman moved through the open door. Kiera followed, and the rear woman entered after her.

Despite expecting to find six captive women somewhere in the suite that she entered, Kiera gasped in surprise upon seeing them. They were of different heights, builds, and ethnicities. Each one was exceedingly attractive. But what caused Kiera to react as she did was the state they were in: wearing only underwear, sitting slumped or laying on beds set against the far wall, with the bare soles of their feet facing her; and, most shockingly, unconscious or in a stupor, some drooling, some moaning softly.

Kiera gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. The intelligence she'd been given said that the women were unharmed. What she observed said otherwise. If her observation was correct, then her "engagement" with their captor would instantly devolve into brutally delivered violence.

"They're fine, really," said a male voice, as if reading her mind. "Or, they will be soon enough. They aren't in pain and haven't been harmed."

A nondescript man of indeterminate age had come into the room from a side door. He wore dark sunglasses, likely to mask his eyes rather than to dim the modest amount of ambient light that was present.

"For your sake as much as theirs, you better be right," Kiera said, her words and tone conveying the imminent threat of a perched dragon ready to immolate its prey. "Our agreement doesn't stand if they don't leave here under their own power and in good health. And if we don't have an agreement--"

"Understood," the man said, not waiting to hear the repercussions she was leading to. "But we do have an agreement. I will release these six under their own power and in good health in exchange for your willing captivity."

"I'm waiting. But not patiently."

The man nodded, then snapped his fingers twice. The six women immediately stiffened. Their eyes opened, and they sat upright. Then, they stood up. Their eyes still lacked focus and clarity, but in general, they looked much better than they had a moment before.

The two guards went to a nearby dresser and retrieved clothing and shoes. Then, they delivered them to each woman. Though still seeming out of it, the women slowly put on their clothes. They remained barefoot, though, holding onto their footwear. Another snap from the man sent them walking towards the exit, the guards behind them.

"That doesn't look like 'in good health' to me," Kiera said.

"When they leave the building, they will fully wake up with no ill effects. No doubt, you'll have your people give them thorough examinations to ensure I'm telling the truth."

"Extremely thorough."

"I'd expect nothing less."

The last guard exited and closed the door behind her.

"I've kept up my end of the agreement by letting the ladies go," the man said. "Now, it's your turn."

"What do you want me to do?"

"All of my captives must be barefoot."

Glaring icily at him the whole time, Kiera removed first her boots, then her socks. The man ran his eyes up and down her tidily uniformed but now barefoot figure. He grinned, while she continued to glower at him.

"Good, now we can get to it," he said.

"Before we get to anything, how do I know the women are safe?"

The man took out his phone and held it up so that Kiera could see its screen. She saw the six women standing on the sidewalk outside of the building she was now in. They looked awake and aware, although confused. The two guards were nowhere in sight. A cadre of uniformed and plainclothes police officers surrounded them.

Kiera nodded her approval.

"Fine," she said. "We can get to it."

She took a step towards the man. He immediately understood from the malicious intent in her stare that her version of 'getting to it' differed greatly from his own. He also knew that he was no match for her in any kind of struggle...except one.

He removed his sunglasses and locked eyes with her.

A sudden, overpowering combination of vertigo and sleepiness washed over Kiera, stopping her cold. She didn't know what was happening, but she knew it stemmed from the man's eyes. But even knowing that, she couldn't look away from his alluringly penetrative gaze. She tried to move, to cry out, to do anything. For the first time in her valiant career as a heroine, she was completely helpless.

"It's time to sleep now," he said in a calm, quiet voice that belied his inexorable power.

At his command, Kiera crumpled to the floor in a deep, dreamless slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kiera pushed up through the depths of sleep to full wakefulness. Her eyes opened. She surveyed her surroundings, not knowing how long she'd been out, but understanding that she needed to be ready now for anything.

The decor of the room she occupied closely but not exactly matched that of the one where she'd fallen unconscious, indicating that she'd been moved. She sat upright in a techno-industrial-styled armchair, with her legs outstretched on a chaise. The outer layer of her uniform had been removed, leaving her wearing a lightweight unitard. Her feet remained bare. Wide, metallic bands secured her wrists, waist, and ankles to the chair. And though she couldn't see it, she could feel a similar restraint around her neck.

Once again wearing sunglasses, the man sat at a control desk positioned about a meter beyond her exposed soles. He turned to face her.

"What the hell did you do to me?" Kiera asked, with steel in her stare and venom in her voice.

"Ocular mesmeric sedation."

"What?"

"I hypnotized you with my eyes."

"Is that what you did to those poor women? Is that how you could control them with a snap of your fingers?"

"Yes."

"You'll find I'm not so malleable."

"Sadly, you're absolutely right. While they were extremely suggestible and bent immediately to my will, you've shown tremendous resistance to hypnotic suggestion, even for a superheroine. Still, all I really needed was to incapacitate you for a few minutes, which my hypnotism succeeded in doing. With you bound and helpless, I can carry out my plan unhindered."

"These restraints won't hold me for long. And when I break free--"

"Spare me," the man said. "I'm painfully aware of the thrashing in store for me if you escape. I'm also aware that those restraints won't hold you forever. But I'm confident they will for quite some time yet."

Kiera pushed against her bonds with all her considerable might. She could feel no discernible give in them. Even if she was right in saying she could break them, he was also right in saying it wouldn't happen for a while. She groaned in annoyance. Then, she decided: If she couldn't take action, she would gather as much intel on the situation as she could.

"I've been wondering," she said, forcing as much of the combativeness from her voice as she could. "Why did you release six women to gain control of one?"

"Simple: quality over quantity. Those six ladies were undeniably beautiful. And skilled in their own ways--"

He paused to grin wolfishly. Kiera didn't even want to imagine what he had made them do.

"--but, ultimately, I need someone better. More skilled, more capable, more compatible with me. I have very high standards for a wife."

"A wife? You expect me to marry you?"

"Oh, yes. Once you fall madly in love with me and devote yourself to my happiness and well-being, I expect you to marry me."

Kiera laughed out loud. The man raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Well, you better get those sunglasses off and start with hypnotizing me now," Kiera said through her laughter. "Because you have a lot of work to do to get me to that state of mind. A whole lot!"

"That would be a fruitless effort. You'd likely escape before I could make any real progress."

"Exactly."

"Which is why I won't be hypnotizing you. But I have other means of enslaving you to my will. Much more thorough and effective methods."

He gestured above her head. She tried to look up, but the band around her neck disallowed such movement.

"My machine," he said, "can overpower the staunchest of wills, including yours. Its process shares traits with hypnosis--an induced trance state, heightened suggestibility, lowered inhibitions, etc.--but it works on a neurological level, rendering the subject--"

"Blah, blah, drivel, psychobabble, blah, who cares? If you think you can make me your mindless-zombie-trophy-wife with some sci-fi contraption, go for it. I think you're delusional."

"You misunderstand my intentions. I don't want a mindless-zombie-trophy-wife. If I did, any of those six ladies that I just released would have more than sufficed. No, I want--need--an intelligent, strategic, tactical partner who will aid me in my work."

"And who will serve and obey you unquestioningly."

"Well, yes, that, too. But not mindlessly. She must believe that she does so out of love and devotion."

"Either way it's brainwashing, and it's sick."

"Sick is subjective. But it is indeed brainwashing. And it's time to get yours underway. Begin."

The last word he directed at the machine above her that she couldn't see. In response to his command, the device began to hum, growing louder and faster as it went. Then, it slowly descended until it completely covered the top of her head. She glared at him defiantly and opened her mouth to berate him and his delusions.

An intense tickling sensation suddenly erupted all over her scalp. The intended castigation caught in her throat, emerging instead as a sputtering gurgle. The tickling was maddening, and all her thoughts turned to escaping it. But her head and neck were completely immobilized by the machine and neck band. Her body, arms, and legs were similarly locked in place by the restraints around them. So all she could do was wiggle, squirm, clench her fists, and scrunch her toes, none of which helped her situation in the slightest.

In addition to the incessant tickling, the machine began bombarding her with a cacophony of cadent buzzing and rhythmic pulses of light. She shut her eyes against the barrage, but the flashes shone through them, and she couldn't shield her ears from the aural onslaught.

Much more quickly than she would have ever thought possible, she found herself increasingly disoriented and overwhelmed. Forming coherent thoughts grew first difficult, then nigh impossible, and finally beyond her ability to do. She soon lost all sense of time, memory, and self.

Then, the process changed. The tortuous tickling lessened in intensity, morphing into a sensuously luxurious massage. At the same time, the buzzing and pulsing eased into a slower, more soothing, seductively hypnotic pattern.

Now physically and mentally exhausted, Kiera took to these new stimuli like a parched dog to a bowl of water. Her eyes closed. Her body relaxed. She sighed audibly. Then she began moaning in abject pleasure. The machine had finished its induction. Its subject was now ready.

The man stood up from his seat and walked over to the pacified heroine.

"Record," he said.

A red light shone on the outside of the machine. He nodded, then leaned over and spoke in a calm but commanding voice into Kiera's ear.

"You love me very much."

Her lips parted, as if to speak. But she said nothing.

"You love me very much. Say it."

"...I love you...very much..." she said in a sleepy drawl.

"You are utterly devoted to me."

"...I am...utterly devoted to you..."

"You will do anything for me."

"...I will do...anything for you..."

"You can't imagine living without me."

"...I can't imagine...living without you..."

"You will only find happiness as my wife."

"...I will only find happiness...as your wife..."

The man smiled. He stood up and addressed the machine again.

"Stop recording. Parse input. Begin playback with repeat of initial command."

He returned to his seat at the control desk. The machine began playing back the suggestions he had just given Kiera, ending them with his command of say it.

The superheroine obediently did as she was told.

"...I love you very much...I am utterly devoted to you...I will do anything for you...I can't imagine living without you...I will only find happiness as your wife..."

The machine repeated the man's command: "Say it." Again, she did as bidden. The cycle continued. Over and over again, it instructed her with his command, and she responded with the words. Minute after minute, she accepted the words, the thoughts, the belief as her own. How could she not, delivered as they were in her own voice?

Thus she brainwashed herself into being the loving, devoted wife that mere minutes before she had scoffed at ever becoming.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Inside the front door of her apartment, Kiera pulled off her boots and peeled off her socks. She walked down the hallway and entered the bedroom, luxuriating at the feel of the deep-pile carpeting beneath her bare feet and between her toes. Loosening the tight bun that held her hair in place atop her head, she shook her blonde locks free of it. Then she quickly shed her uniform, revealing not a unitard under it, but lace lingerie.

She climbed onto the bed, moving to sit upright against the plushly padded headboard. She stretched out her legs, angling them so that her bare soles faced the door. She didn't know why she liked this position so much, why it made her feel comfortable, relaxed, and sexy all at the same time. But not knowing didn't matter. All that mattered was getting to see her beloved husband, who would be home any minute now.

The thought of telling him about her productive day filled her equally with excitement and happiness.

She had changed the DA's mind about moving forward with a criminal indictment against her man--literally changed it by hypnotizing that obstinate woman into following her suggestions. Then, she had subtly and subliminally influenced her superheroine colleagues Blaze, Yokai, and Vine to hand over their investigation of four missing women to her. Those four women currently resided in her husband's lab, where she had used his machine to brainwash them into mindlessly obedient slaves right before coming home.

The sound of the front door opening broke into her reverie. She was so happy her husband had arrived that she could hardly contain herself. How she had ever lived without him was beyond imagining.

Thankfully, she didn't have to imagine it. She was his loving, devoted wife, and she always would be.