We stopped at a cell occupied by two girls. Unlike the occupants of some of the other cells, these two wore clothes. The older woman was in her mid-thirties, with long brown hair and dark brown eyes. She was dressed in a fairly expensive female business suit complete with stockings and sensible pumps. She mumbled something into her gag and tried to move forward, but the steel collar around her neck stopped her getting any further.

Doc pointed to her. "That's the one we were talking about," he explained. "Her name's Myra. This one," he said, pointing to the younger blonde girl, "used to be called Joanne, but these days we call her JoJo."

JoJo was dressed in the most incredible outfit I'd ever seem - a latex lace up basque, latex thigh high five inch heeled boots and shiny latex gloves. "This is their outfit for the party. We kept them in it after today's practice so that they can give you a demonstration," Doc added, opening the cell door and handing me a key. We unfastened both of them from their assorted bonds. "Right, ladies," he said when we were finished. "Go to work."

Myra straightened up from her slump and sat as if she was at a desk. A pair of glasses had appeared from somewhere and she sat pantomiming reading papers. Pausing, she pressed a button on an invisible intercom. "JoJo, come in here, please," she demanded.

JoJo flounced over. There was something in the way she moved, in the vacant look in her eyes that told me she was a six week special. Doc had broken her, destroying completely the woman she used to be and programming the husk as a simple sex toy. I could see how Myra could be a problem - there was still a flicker of self awareness behind those brown eyes - but for JoJo it was all over. All she could wish for now was a kind master and an easy life. It was unlikely she'd have either.

"JoJo! Fine personal assistant you are," Myra said harshly. "I was looking through these accounts and I've found a problem."

"Really, ma'am? What's wrong?" Even JoJo's voice lacked any personality. It was as flat and impersonal as a recording.

"There's still money in them, you little bitch!," Myra snarled. "Why do I employ you!"

JoJo squirmed, pushing her latex covered cleavage in the older woman's face. "I dunno. Because I lick slit good?"

At that point, Myra stood up and threw off her jacket and the glasses. Doc pressed a button, and the music started. I'd seen lesbian displays before - most erotic dance shows have at least one if they can get away with it. They're pretty boring as soon as you get the feeling that the girls are just play acting. This however, was different - it had a weird sort of energy and rhythm to it, a side-effect of Doc's training. Each woman latched on to the other, eagerly licking, fingering, and teasing in time to the music. Methodically they stripped each other; underneath Myra's blouse and skirt was a latex top and a pair of matching bikini briefs, leaving both women dressed almost identically.

At that point the women dragged each other to the floor, pushing up skirts as they squirmed into a 69 position and started lapping and sucking at each other's snatches. I could hear the wet, juicy noises of tongues busily working away on clits, and the little moans and squeals as the stimulation escalated. There was a strange urgency to it all as each woman tried desperately to get the other to come. The vacant look in JoJo's eyes had been replaced by a desperate, unearthly hunger. I saw its reflection in Myra's eyes, but I also saw something more; a horrified self-loathing and disgust. The emotions hovered just below the surface, suppressed by Doc's conditioning, but they were definitely there. Somewhere, the real Myra was aware of what she was doing, totally aware but unable to stop. Then suddenly JoJo came with a squeal, and moments later Myra followed her with a screaming, mind-stunning orgasm that left her twitching on the floor.

"I think that's enough," Doc said quietly. "Be a good chap and help Myra up, Charles. "

I did. The vacant look had crept back into her eyes, as if the orgasm had somehow crushed the last vestige of her personality. She didn't struggle as I rebound her and shoved the gag back into her limp mouth.

Locking them in the cell, we went back upstairs in silence. "Just what the hell was that all about?" I asked.

"That was one hundred percent what the client ordered," Doc said defensively. "He even scripted it and chose the music. There's even a gimmick - I've made it so that each woman has an orgasm that is perhaps a tenth of it's usual potency. Except, if she comes just after another woman, then it's more like ten times the usual potency."

"So each tries to make the other come first."

"Exactly. If you come first, you get a little tremble. Come second and the world explodes."

"So Myra won just now."

Doc nodded as we reentered the sitting room. "She usually does, one of the advantages of not having been broken yet. The whole setup was the client's idea."

"But why?"

He handed me a whisky. "Myra worked for a major Manhattan bank in their foreign trading desk. Quite senior, a VP I believe. Joanne was her PA. Our client was another VP whose department used the Foreign Desk a lot. He started to notice some irregularities, which at first he put down to some over ambitious trading. Gradually, he started to find evidence of a widespread securities fraud being run from somewhere inside Myra's department. As was common procedure at the bank, he approached the board in Myra's absence and was ordered to investigate fully. One weekend, he and some of his people entered Myra's departmental records and started to do an audit."

I could see where this was going. "And the culprit turned out to be Myra."

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