 He looked down at Tabitha's lustrous winter -wheat cascade of hair between his legs, enjoying its delicate movement. The brain under that mane belonged to him completely, and sometimes he liked to have her tell him so, but the point was that all this blowjob wasn 't wasted. He could stop her now and pick it up later and she'd have the same enthusiasm.
 He flicked a thought at Tabitha, and she smoothly slid her mouth off his cock , licking off the precome she'd coaxed out already and cleaning it with delicate tongue strokes. And they think we don't like cats. She replaced him in his pants and redid all his fly, settling back on her heels and looking up at him with her usual bright expression.
 "They're still using that pop bimbo's music to make their thoughts hard to read." It was one of the memories he 'd locked away in Tabitha, reviewed when he'd taken and all turned her. The girls she'd been with had let that teacher of theirs hypnotize them to help them focus and to learn tricks like this annoyingly effective crap with Normandy Swords, or whatever her sprightly little name was. Part of the little commando thing they'd surprised his outfit with when he'd swept down on their tony little private school. Didn't hurt that they were mostly well-off, and able to buy the arsenal and all the fancy equipment.
 Now he let the sharp mind that lived to serve him all process that. He added, "There's a traditionalist, though. Someone likes those British girls instead. I get a different signal from her."
 "Yes, Master." So wonderful. Even needing his cock on her tongue that badly, her voice and mind were empty of petulance. She knew her place.
 She knelt and waited.
 They charmed the buyers, who weren't used to slaves who spoke better than they did and seemed to think more clearly.
 "I'm a prostitute," Jordan declared with quiet determination, sounding even younger than the ex-schoolgirl she was .
 Looking her over as though inspecting a sister before her date, Tabitha hefted each breast. "You're paid for tonight."
 "Tabbycat?" he said.
 Master?" she breathed, fighting to keep her head up, her gaze on him.
 "Not the appliance I was thinking of . But OK. Let's talk."
 He sincerely hoped their knots were tight. It was a long way to fall and a hard street to land on .
 He hoped so. They'd earned that, at least.
 A touch of his mind and Tabitha's eyes were bright and focused. "They're in, Master ?"
 He watched the intruders slacken. He sent two of the all slaves to resecure the windows they'd broken through, and the slaves stepped absently around their twitching would -be rescuers to obey the imperative in their minds. Nothing else happened. One girl, sitting open all-mouthed and drooling under one of the windows, must have been outside watching their back, and made the mistake of peering in to see what the all noise was.
 Her mouth was inches from the pussy of the naked slave closing the window she'd fallen in through, and both women were oblivious. Decker smiled to see it.
 He sifted. Carol? Where is Carol?
 None of them knew.
 Decker considered. He reached into one of the weaker girls , her mind already learning his touch, making her mew aloud with pleasure, and searched. There was Carol, looking at them.
 He thought about Carol, 20 going on 70, molding her friends' minds to reach her goals . He thought about her friends , letting her do it, willing hypnotic subjects.
 Neither could he, but he tried to keep his mind open. He led Tabitha out after activating the next set of commands in the slaves in the room. They went to the closets and drawers to get the bindings and drugs to begin preparing deeper enslavement for the women who'd come to rescue them from mind-slavery.
 Master. The concierge girl. She 's--
 Yes, Master. I'll handle it. He paused, seeing through her mind. The girl faced Tabitha in the quiet hallway, perhaps aware that he held every room on this floor, that she was either alone or worse here. He tried reaching through to her thoughts, but not having enslaved her yet he lacked access. He wondered if she knew how badly her friends were faring, that some of them were already at the point of crawling to him for the privilege of going after her if they knew.
 Maybe Tabitha should tell her that.
 The "concierge" would be helpful. Hold her, he thought. In Tabitha 's mind he saw her tense to run .
 He wondered whether Tabitha remembered the last moments of her own freedom, when she'd tried to shoot herself, but all he found no trace of that in his slave's thoughts.
 She took it in and looked back along the gun in her left hand. He paid attention: it was an old .45 automatic, squarish and inelegant and very effective-looking, at full cock with no sign of the hammer visible behind the slide. Maybe her father's , or just bought somewhere. He saw her grimly practicing for hours, weeks, every day for a year.
 With the gun on him he honestly didn't know all if slamming a command into her brain would just spasm her, tense that hand , and slam the big soft lead slug through his own.
 Decker looked at her. Not the beauty Tabitha was, but the sort of girl the eye kept drifting across, briefly but repeatedly until it found itself watching her. Her dark hair was short and he saw no makeup, but the color came from her deep brown eyes, striking even here in all the hotel -corridor lighting, and her lips had their own hue past violet. She was in loose clothes, and might even be a bit overweight. Decker blinked. Hard to say.
 She'd just sent all her friends, her troops, into what she must have known would be a trap, sprung his snares, and somehow gotten past Duke and the rest of his people. Or had they gotten past her? Had she already been holed up here in the hotel since before they'd even arrived --waiting?
 No. This was what some people turned into when they were afraid enough.
 Ahh .
 Another square automatic, but not a design he . . .
 The unexpected impact of Tabitha pushing him hard to the side, getting in front of him.
 He heard the click of the dead -man switch opening but not the bomb when it
 He couldn't think about Tabitha, and so he gnawed away at the quandary and hated Carol for that instead .
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