Would that I could promise you eons of
it--but hours will have to suffice.* Both men were fully aware of
Shayan's regret at that--and his anticipation. *Still, I can make it
last that long, though it isn't truly necessary; the procedure need
take no longer than seconds, and would be equally effective if you were
unconscious. Either would rob it of what little pleasure I can extract
from my lady's loss, however. So, priest--suffer my pleasure.* All
true, Shayan thought, as far as the ability to remove compulsions was
concerned--but Odeon's pain, including that of believing the anguish
unnecessary, was essential to the tempering process. Seizing the
other's mind, Shayan began his mental surgery.

Odeon screamed, convulsing. Bain shuddered as they continued, going on
and on, pausing barely long enough for Odeon to inhale. The Inquisitor
was sickly grateful to Shayan for recommending restraints; without
them, Mike's struggles would be breaking bones. There was no skill
involved here, no subtlety, no hope for the subject to end it by
confessing when the pain became unendurable--which it did, as quickly
as Shayan had promised. Though Bain was no longer sharing their mental
contact, his Inquisitor's training let him know when Odeon reached his
breaking point and was forced beyond it, to agony no drug could keep a
man alive through, much less conscious.

But Odeon did remain conscious, with full awareness that it was
Shayan's power keeping him that way--and the understanding, at last,
that this was what Joanie and Sis had suffered from the Hell-King.
Rape was rape, be it physical or mental--and horrible as the pain was,
the worst part was the degrading violation.

Bain prayed. There was nothing else to do until, eventually, it ended.
With a final convulsion like he was being shaken, Odeon went limp.
Bain hurriedly freed him from the restraints and carried him into the
bathroom. Mike'd need a hot soak to relax strained muscles, then days
of recuperation--God, what would Joanie think when she saw him?

* * * * *

Cortin didn't sleep well. Her dreams were troubling, nightmares of
Shayan tormenting her team in ways she couldn't stop, gloating over
them, taunting her with her helplessness. And it didn't improve when
she woke; the feeling of something wrong with her people wouldn't go
away, even when she told herself it was nothing more than a bad dream.

After a quarter hour of being un