Batgirl slips further into the melodious invitation.
(credit to ClarkSavage, rms19, and atchman007 for the screenshots)
Barbara dreamed a beautiful dream, of the sea, of the beach, leading to the most perfect grotto to rest herself. A lovely place filled with a playing harpsichord, soothing her wayward soul. A pleasantly-lilting voice gave the sound spoken lyrics, and a reason for Batgirl to rise to consciousness to pay attention.
“I’ve never seen the value of a long, hypnotic induction,
such a tiresome act, leaving one to prattle on.
But I confess enjoying speaking of my own power,
robbing you of yours, stealing your ability to battle on.”
“And now, you’re in the Siren’s grotto,
a sleepy mess, so wanting to nod off.
Your mind and your body belong to me now,
That pitiful excuse for a will can sod off.”
Lorelei laughingly-sneered down at the waking heroine through poetic prose.
Batgirl found enough energy to stand up, to move as she saw fit around the Siren’s lair. She thought she regained enough rational thinking that leaving the grotto or moving to physically-restrain or verbally-inhibit the grotto’s owner was too reckless; reasoning concluded it was better to listen to the Siren and wait for the perfect opportunity to strike.
“Oh, the trouble you’ve caused me over time. The denigration, the anger, the humility…I bloody hate feeling humility,” a menacing admission pierced the air of musical manipulation. “I never felt like a one-note villainess, until you came along. And knowing that that singularly-irresistible note was not enough to bring a veritable child down got me thinking while my voice and ego recovered.”
“I spent my incarceration fully committed to rehabilitating myself, not for what society wants, but for what I wanted. Vengeance, of course, was part of that, but even that wasn’t enough. Simply disposing of the batty girl who defeated Siren Lorelei Circe seemed inadequate. Your transgression deserves…fuller comeuppance. Such led me to equip myself with multiple means of achieving that. Learning dreadfully-rudimentary but very-effective hypnosis, which thankfully is a brand of seduction easily-adapted to. Then learning to be patient, and stalk my targets with more precision instead of laissez-faire control, pinpointing Batgirl’s routine and vital statistics where and when I could. But the stroke of genius came to me as I met with a collection of sound engineers, learning on a scientific level why women are immune to me where men are not. In searching for the answer, an elegant solution was discovered.”
“Well, almost as elegant as me,” the songstress laughed, playing her hard a little more as the heroine nearly cowered in fear. An enhanced song making Lorelei Circe unstoppable weighed heavily on the heroine despite the slight case of lightheadedness.
“Perhaps you’ve wondered why my note felt so sweeping and lasting. Perhaps you thought you searched that office for every conceivable place I could leave a trap, and never noticing the built-in sound system that delivered that elegant solution. Even if my note doesn’t strike as intended, turning it into a subliminal white noise, mixed with binaural sounds, that slowly rose in volume the longer you stayed there, long before I even arrived for our meeting. You never realized how profoundly you’d already been conditioned to properly respond to my song for once and forever, giving in to my spell. While I continue to discover how to make any and every woman as enslaved as men, this serves as a very acceptable substitute. And now I’ve bewitched you as easy as any male. Haven’t I, Barbara?”
Batgirl gasped as she heard her secret identity spoken out-loud from an enemy’s lips, even if they were the most beautiful lips she’d ever seen. It struck her as much as hearing no sound leave her mouth from the gasp; she tried to speak words, but it was as if her lips could only mouth words that once carried audible meaning. She screamed at Siren for her disposition, yelling at her with silenced rage.
“Rather anticlimactic,” Siren’s uttered in abject boredom. “The Commissioner’s unassuming daughter masquerading as the daredoll Batgirl. Explains so much, so pathetically; masquerading as any kind of peer of Batman, or ridiculous rival of mine. Deep inside, I’m sure you you knew resided beneath me in the grand scheme of things. And under the Siren is where you remain, perhaps directly under, with luck and manners on your side,” the suggestive cajoling set Batgirl of from several feet away, content with silently chastising from a distance.
“I beat you once before, I will do it again you harlot!” summarized mouthed complaints that amused Siren to no end how little bite they possessed without accompanying noise. Barely regarding the tirade, Lorelei sat next to her harp, unconcerned at the visible plight, bored from Barbara’s attempt to wail at the Siren of all people.
Casually, the Siren opened her mouth to wail back two octaves above High C. Batgirl felt stunned by the sound, a sensation flowing into her ears and down the open, empty throat.
“How wonderful is it now, Barbara? To have my note transform your misguided perceptions, from white noise to the only noise you hear and want to hear, unable to produce any yourself until I allow.”
The word “wonderful” shaped the sensation of Siren’s penetrating note, making her feel good inside, closing her mouth as if to swallow that feeling down to her core.
“But I wonder how wonderful it could be if I continue it this way. Unlike one-note enslavement, I wonder what constant conditioning could affect you. Could wonder slowly, or quickly become addiction?”
Singing the high note again for short seconds gave Barbara a little more of Siren’s power to enjoy.
“What would an addiction to my Siren song to do you? What would withdrawal of my droll drawl do to you?”
Siren opened her mouth to sing again, but the note never came, leaving Barbara’s senses under suspension, waiting for pleasure it was adapting to. They never informed Barbara of the same low binaural note from the office playing in the grotto since before Batgirl woke up; now it was too low to appreciate, and Barbara, wanted…no, needed more.
“Not that it is any choice of yours, but you should be careful about what levels of addiction you take my note to, what my note attaches to within you. Your morals, your priorities, your pleasure…oh just imagine if the deepest pleasure you could ever know derived only from the one note you that did nothing to you before.”
Moving to sit down on her bearskin rug, Siren watched her words slowly reshaping the effect her note would have on her, watching as any adrenaline drained from Batgirl’s body, giving way to endorphins flooding it. Eyes fluttered as she dreamed of a sung note hanging in the air, sinking down to a part of her too indecent to mention for Barbara Gordon or Batgirl in mixed company. Breathing in after an evil smile, Siren unleashed another note and watched the shuddering body with glee, arms holding herself as if to tangibly cover herself with the note.
“Positively sinful, isn’t it? Neglected, maybe forgotten parts that young, virtuous woman full of untapped vitality being sung to, given music that let’s them sing, and cry, and cry out rapturously.”
Thoughts of indecency melted like ice cubes as another note cracked the frozen water, thawing the young woman until a warming liquid coursed through her, flowing in places gloved hands boldly dared to touch. She nearly stopped herself from touching between her legs, but she looked to see Siren about to belt another note, but allowed thighs to be gently caressed to start, the note guiding an inexperienced hand to promised pleasures.
Lorelei couldn’t help but chuckle to herself; where typically the effects of her song would open a new slave up to whatever declarations she wanted, her declarations now opened Batgirl up to whatever effect her song would have. Tempted to bask in carnal pleasures herself, the Siren fought it temporarily, not wanting to lose momentum of an important time in Batgirl’s permanent conditioning…
“Yes, my song fills your heart’s and bodily desires. Only my song, nothing more. My song reveals to you the real you, even whom I allow you to be. Just think of the duality of Batgirl and Barbara Gordon; supposedly two sides of the same coin, only Batgirl when the situation calls for it, but secretly-loving to done the cape and be the most powerful version of yourself.”
Barbara left the stroking pleasure behind to envision the two versions of herself unencumbered. She was both Batgirl and the daughter of Commissioner Gordon, but part of her sensed a change about to be made, the framing of her identities suddenly more malleable than ever before.
“But with a simple song….”
The simple song made the background liquid-like, allowing the identities to flow away from each other more an more.
“The two that make you up can separate, until you can only be aware of one of them at any given time. I could sing Batgirl away…”
“And all that’s left is sweet, chaste, innocent little Barbara Gordon, a young woman looking forward to life, but looking for guidance and inspiration. Finding it in Lorelei Circe, finding her sweet voice to get so very lost in, taking all her notions and whims as edicts you must obey. You want her to shape you, mold you, allow her to decide what best things in life will come to you. Perhaps you can be my personal assistant, by my side at all times, doing whatever I require…however I want you…”
Momentarily, the wig and purple costuming slipped away as she was a basic young woman, no one special or significant, but blessed to be near and employed by the stunning Lorelei Circe. She smiled dumbly at the thought of serving her always.
“But at other times, I could sing away Barbara Gordon….”
“And all that remains is Batgirl, the daring doll. My daring, darling doll to play with and make her play with, or against others. My silent avenger doing my criminal bidding, learning with each law-breaking offense that the only law you recognize is that of the Siren. And with every law of the Siren you obey, your mind, body and soul simply demand you to do it again, and again, and again. Always for my pleasure, which will become your only pleasure…”
Batgirl suddenly felt naked, hollow beneath the outfit that shaped the totality of herself, needing to be filled with the Siren’s song and will to be whole, useful, and obedient.
“I always say, evil makes the world go round. Evil vixens like Mata Hari, Lucrezia Borgia, and Lady MacBeth, and especially the Siren understood that. Soon your world will revolve around the evil Siren, where you too will help the world turn as it should, called upon to be as evil as your temptress, even better than amateurs like Catwoman. To feed your pitiful ego one last time, you were the one thing standing between me and my goals of domination; and with this pushover of a domino pushed over, Batman, Robin, and everyone else will fall as you have. Whether doing dastardly deeds as Barbara Gordon or Batgirl, your true calling has been found now, an agent of evil, a servant of the Siren.”
Green eyes scanned the blanked, unestablished woman from head-to-toe. “A wardrobe change is definitely in order as well. A servant of Siren should represent her magnificence much better than this, and definitely in a nice silver hue…” A large grin followed imagining Batgirl ripping her proud purple costume to shreds in-front of her; it nearly turned lewd as she thought of the aftermath of the disrobing, before she allowed herself one more treat.
“You can feel every suggestion of mine waiting to make you mine. But before any of that, allow me to rectify an injustice performed by you so long ago,” Siren gave one last vicious smile in Batgirl’s direction, taking a deep breath, before unleashing her loudest song delivered to Batgirl yet.
The Siren approached her bewitched prey, relishing in the certainty that above all else, her vengeance was satiated, that Batgirl as she was known would be utterly obliterated, her reputation and good standing in Gotham broken at the rocks like misled ships at sea. The blank canvas left standing was at the disposal of the silver artist, who intended to make others, especially other women, as bewitched and owned as she became.
Both Batgirl and Barbara were completed consumed by the song, letting it take over without resistance, allowing it to fill every crevice, lightly trembling in wait to fulfill Lorelei Circe’s every command.
After what felt like ten minutes to Siren, and an eternity to Batgirl, Siren ended her song and Batgirl with it.
“The Siren calls to you, and you cannot resist your calling, Batgirl. You’re going to obey every command I give you. Won’t you, slave?” the sweet, arrogant voice intoned.
The question made Batgirl gasp in pleasure as her vocal chords were allowed to make sounds again, the most common she would make for life.
“Yes Siren; I live to obey you.”
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