The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“You bloody maniac!”

Rena Lacke shook her head as she watched the motorcycle taillight shrink in the distance. The bike had blasted past her like she was standing still.

Crazy bikers. They were all over Chrystal Heights. It was amazing there were any left alive. Riding a motorcycle was practically a death sentence in Rena’s book.

Granted, the biker wasn’t likely to run into much traffic out here. In fact, he wasn’t going to run into any traffic, since this road led directly to the dock. The biker was almost certainly a fellow guest at the Beau Island resort.

Rena shook her head in resignation. Considering the exclusive nature of the resort, she was surprised they’d take somebody who thought riding a motorcycle like a lunatic was a good idea.

Then again, Rena herself hardly qualified as an A-list invitee. Not yet, anyway, she corrected herself. But soon. Very soon. And why not? She’d certainly worked hard enough to get where she was.

Rena allowed herself a brief smile. She wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty when it came to getting what she wanted. This weekend would be no exception.

A repetitive car horn caught Rena’s attention. Glancing into her rearview mirror, she saw flashing headlights. Then the lights moved from behind her and into the lane beside her, even though that lane was for traffic going into the opposite direction.

The car accelerated and effortlessly caught up with Rena, momentarily pacing her. Glancing over, Rena saw the vehicle was a powerful, high-end Lexus, driven by a red-haired woman who was every bit as gorgeous and chic as the machine she operated.

The red-haired coquette gave Rena a lazy glance, then pursed her lips and blew a kiss. A moment later she was gone, the Lexus taillights disappearing almost as quickly as the motorcycle’s had minutes earlier.

Rena shook her head again. Crazy bikers and arrogant socialites. It could only get better from here.

“You fucking wench!”

Aubrey Rush pulled off her motorcycle helmet and glared at her silent black Harley Davidson. She held the glare for several seconds, then relented and resignedly ran her fingers through her short brown hair.

As motorcycles went, the powerful bike was normally very dependable. But not this time. And it wasn’t very nice of her to leave Aubrey stranded out here in the middle of nowhere.

She briefly looked over the bike engine and checked a few hoses, but it was still too hot for a full going-over. Aubrey didn’t have the time, anyway. She’d have to hitch a ride to the dock and worry about fixing the bike later.

Of course, someone would come along sooner or later. Anybody catching the ferry to the Beau Island Resort had to take this road to get to the dock, so at least she wouldn’t be stuck here too long. And considering how desolate the immediate area was—there was nothing but trees in either direction from the road—her bike would likely be safe enough while she was at the resort for the weekend. So now all she had to do was flag a ride.

Aubrey walked the short distance to the road. Almost on cue a car appeared, growing larger as it drew closer. Aubrey stepped into the road and crossed her hands over her head.

The Lexus stopped, sleek and silver. The driver’s window lowered.

Aubrey walked to the side of the car and looked inside. The woman driving the car appeared to be flawless, with smooth, sculpted features and untouchable perfection. The metallic-red shade of her hair obviously came from a bottle, but the long, straight style just as obviously came from a high-end salon.

The Lexus driver offered a tolerant smile. “Broken down, sweetie?”

Aubrey nodded. “Yes,” she said. “You’re going to the Beau Island Resort, I assume?”

“I am,” said the redhead, “so don’t worry…I’ll let them know you’re on your way. I won’t let them leave until you get there.”

It took Aubrey a moment to process the words. Then her eyebrows rose. “Wait…what do you mean? You won’t give me a ride?”

The Lexus driver laughed. “Of course not, honey! You’re covered in grease and oil.”

“It’s just my hands and it’ll wipe—“

“Besides,” continued the redhead, as if Aubrey hadn’t been speaking, “I passed another car on my way here. I’m sure they’ll stop for you. So just sit tight and everything’ll be ducky, sweetie.”

The redhead pursed her dark red lips then and blew Aubrey a kiss. Then she stepped on the gas and pulled away.

Aubrey stared incredulously after the disappearing Lexus, her jaw hanging.

Wow. The redhead had been amazingly rude. Hot as fuck, true, but arrogant as all hell. Still, annoying as the stuck-up witch had been, she’d been right about one thing. Another vehicle was already in sight.

This time the car pulled to the side of the road. The window slid down, revealing a woman with hair that appeared to be a variety of colors.

The driver smiled. “Bad day?”

Aubrey noted the slight British inflection in the driver’s voice. “Yeah,” she said. “Something like that. Are you going to the ferry?”

“I am,” she said. “You are too, I take it?”

“I was,” said Aubrey, “until Rhiannon decided to throw a ring.”

“Rhiannon?”

“My motorcycle,” said Aubrey. “That’s her name.”

“I see,” said the driver, her slight accent giving the statement observational depth. “Your own fault, then. That’s what you get for giving a Celtic name to a Japanese machine.”

“Japanese?!” said Aubrey. “That’s a Harley, you heathen. It’s an American goddess.”

“Heathen?! I just may make you walk for that. Heathen, indeed.”

Aubrey said, “It’s not my fault you have no taste.”

The driver looked at Aubrey, a smile playing on her lips. “No taste, you say? I see. And what might your name be?”

“Aubrey.”

“Very well, Aubrey,” said the driver. “I am Rena. Now please get in so I can begin the process of explaining the concept of standards to you. Will her ladyship be all right here?”

“She’ll be fine,” said Aubrey. “Just give me a minute to get her away from the road and covered.”

Aubrey grabbed the handlebars and rolled the motorcycle out of sight. She quickly cleaned the grease from her hands, then unstrapped her duffel bag and covered the Harley. She slung the bag over her shoulder then and walked toward the car.

As she slid into the front seat, Aubrey briefly wondered if she should tell Rena just how wet she was.

The silver Lexus pulled into the parking lot and slid to a stop, occupying two spaces. The engine cut off and the driver’s door opened.

Elizabeth Besting stepped out of the sleek luxury vehicle, her red hair barely stirred by the wind. Her short skirt and refined blouse appeared to have fallen off a fashion model moments before landing on her and showed her figure to specific effect. She paused briefly as she exited the car, assuming what some might correctly call a pose. Then she shut the door and made her way toward the steps leading down to the dock, moving as casually in her four-inch heels as she might have in tennis shoes.

Elizabeth’s moves were as polished as her features. Perhaps more. After all, she knew she had only one chance to make a first impression. And you never knew who might be watching.

Of course, she was on the verge of moving beyond worrying about others’ opinion of her. In fact, this weekend would likely stand as her future reference point as to when her life changed.

The thought cheered her. She assumed an icy expression and made her way toward the small group gathered by the ferry.

The two men and two women waiting on the dock next to the ferry admired both the car as it parked and the driver as she exited the vehicle. They watched as the red-haired woman made her way onto the dock.

Arrogant strut, thought Joan McKatt as she watched Elizabeth descend the stairs to the dock. Makeup straight out of a YouTube tutorial. Clothes are cutting edge fashion, acts like she couldn’t care less. Friends probably tell her she should be a model and she believes them.

Appraisal finished, Joan mentally filed the socialite under typical young rich bitch. It had taken the black ex-cop less than two seconds to read and assess Elizabeth. Satisfied, Joan turned her attention to the tall, thin man with the shock of black hair. He was telling another story about his Darkview bar.

“So Starlight tries to do a ‘Flashdance’ move and bam!...she knocks Cinnamon right off the stage! Cinnamon lands hard, takes out two tables and is laying on the floor, eyes crossed, ass in the air. Everyone is silent. Then Cinnamon stands up and says, ‘Andre, I’ll have the veal parmigiana. Make it to go.’ Everyone pops their nuts laughing. Cost me a small fortune in free drinks, but it worked out fine.”

Sam Morton smiled as the other man laughed appreciatively at his story. Sam noted that the two women did not appear to be amused. He mentally shrugged. They were probably on the rag or something. Chicks always had some kind of phantom condition or something going on.

Women weren’t bad once you trained them, of course. Teach them their place, teach them what they’re for. Give ’em some big popping titties, put ’em on stage, teach them how to show off the goods, teach ’em how to bring in the money. Once they learned how to suck a mean cock, take it up the ass like a pro, how to shake that fucking ass, then they were worth something. Not much, but at least they were worth something then.

Women, thought Sam, are just life support systems for pussy.

Dr.Cara Lin glared at the back of Sam’s head as if she knew what he was thinking. Typical man, she thought. They’re all the same.

The short Asian woman shook her head slightly and looked away. She decided to think positive thoughts in an effort to control her revulsion.

After a few moments, she nodded. A few small improvements would almost assuredly make that bar owner Mr.Morton much more likeable, thought Dr.Lin. Dr.Lin smiled at the sudden mental image of Sam with large, rounded breasts, smooth supple limbs, lovely curved hips. Clean lines. No ugly external genitalia. Pretty face. No course black stubble.

Art. He would be art then.

Paul Straight was still smiling at Sam’s story. Sam was an abrasive asshole, to be sure, but an amusing one. Probably fun to drink with.

Paul looked around the dock. Almost everyone was here. They’d be loading the ferry soon and heading to Beau Island. It was almost sure to be a good time. Pretty women, guys who liked to have fun…it was promising.

It would be fun for other reasons too, Paul had no doubt. After all, he knew more about the guests than they knew about him.

Phillip Warton stepped off the boat onto the dock. The grizzled ferry pilot looked around at the passengers. It looked like everyone had arrived. Quite the colorful gathering, it seemed.

Warton’s attention was immediately drawn to the redhead, Elizabeth. No surprise, of course. The thin woman was striking, if aloof. Quite the looker, but icy as a December wind. A man could catch a chill trying to talk to her, no doubt.

The tall man with the black hair and coarse laugh was Sam Morton. Now there was a guy who knew how to have a good time. He owned a strip bar in Darkview that was supposed to be one of the best. Had a shady reputation, but that was Darkview for you. Word on the street was that a lot of girls who disappeared ended up dancing on stage at Sam’s club, but that was probably just urban legend.

The non-descript guy standing in the group was Paul something…Paul Straight. Seemed low-key, but he was supposedly in charge of security at the resort. He acted laid-back, but his eyes never stopped moving and he probed everything on the dock. He smiled at everybody, but the smile never touched his eyes.

The short Asian woman was Dr.Lin. Warton shook his head in disapproval. She had lost her medical license a while back for something she was involved in. He wanted to ask her about it, but he was pretty sure he’d regret it if he did. Dr.Lin hadn’t said much since her arrival, but she didn’t have to. It didn’t take a genius to read from her body language that she hated men. Paul and Sam would be wise to watch themselves when Dr.Lin was around. Sam in particular. Warton was pretty sure the little doctor would be perfectly happy to decorate the area between his shoulder blades with a shiny scalpel.

The private detective with the dark mocha skin was McKatt. Tough-looking, she was, and didn’t seem the type to take guff from anybody. She’d been a cop for a while, but she got kicked off the force for some thing or another. She had her own practice now and seemed to be doing all right. Not one to cross, though, if Warton was any judge of people.

Another car pulled in and parked. Two women got out of the vehicle.

Warton shaded his eyes, then nodded. The driver with the multi-colored hair-style had to be Rena Lacke, the shrink. Good-looking woman. Was supposedly a candidate to be a talk show host or some such. Very confident. Probably good in bed, but had a thing for women, if he remembered correctly. Warton mentally shrugged. Other fish in the sea.

The other woman had to be Aubrey Rush. Athletic build. Walked like a cat. A predatory cat. Yeah, she was a professor of archeology or something. Led a real adventurous life, by all accounts. Made the news a year or two earlier for losing some grad students on a dig or something. Something to do with the natives, if Warton remembered right. Leading that sort of life came with risks, he supposed.

And now that everybody was here, it was time to load up. He held up his hand.

“All aboard,” said Warton. “If yer headin’ for the Beau Island Resort, anyhow.”

Then Paul Straight held up his hand. “All aboard,” he said, “after I see your identifications, please.”

“Oh?” said McKatt. “And who are you?”

Straight said, “Paul Straight. I’m in charge of security at the resort.”

“I see,” said McKatt, leveling a flat stare at Paul. “And do you really think someone could steal my identification?”

Paul gave her a tight grin. “No, I don’t,” he said. “But my job is to check I.D.s, so I’m checking I.D.s.”

Rena glanced around, then stepped forward. “The sooner we show him our I.D.s, the sooner we can get to the resort,” she said. “Here you go, Mister Straight. I respect that you have a job to do. I’m Rena Lacke and here is my identification. Let’s just get to it, shall we?”

Straight made a show of checking the identification card. Then he looked up. “Thank you, Miss Lacke. Welcome aboard. Next?”

The ferry was loaded in short order.

The seven passengers were seated on opposite sides of the open-air, tarp-covered boat. Morton and Straight sat on opposite sides of Elizabeth, with the bar owner telling another story while the redheaded socialite stared at her phone. Dr.Lin and McKatt sat next to each other, oblivious to potential conversation. Rena and Aubrey sat together.

Aubrey turned to Rena. “So what brings you to the Beau Resort?”

Rena smiled. “Negotiations,” she said. “I’m a psychiatrist with a practice in Chrystal Heights. For some reason, the networks appear to feel I’d be a good candidate to host a talk show and they’ve arranged a weekend at the resort during which they’ll attempt to woo me. Are you familiar with the resort, Aubrey?”

Aubrey shook her head. “Not at all,” she said. “This is my first time. I’d never heard of them before now, honestly. Their website said they’ve been around for a while, though.”

Rena breathed deep, enjoying the smell of the salt water. “And your reason for riding her ladyship out here? Are you on holiday?”

Aubrey hesitated only a moment before answering. “Holiday. Yep. Taking a break. I figure drinks next to a pool on an island is just the thing I need right now.”

She’s lying, thought Rena. I wonder why? Out loud, she said, “That sounds like a lovely idea. Perhaps I could join you?”

Aubrey smiled. “I’m hoping you do.”

Unable to pry Elizabeth’s attention from her phone, Paul decided to enjoy the boat ride. The open-air aspect of the boat was perfect for enjoying the sea air. Paul reached over the side of the boat to see if he could reach the water with his fingertips.

The grizzled boat pilot shook his head and said to Paul, “I wouldn’t do that if’n I was you. At least not if you’re attached to yer fingers.”

Paul’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? Why not?”

“Sharks,” said Phillip. “Big ’uns. They’re all over this cut between Beau Island and the mainland. The beach on the island is fine- the waters too shallow for ’em. But you don’t want to go past the rocks into the blue water.”

That got everyone’s attention.

Aubrey’s eyes were bright. “Big sharks?”

“Yup,” said Phillip, his eyes looking ahead. “A couple ’o fishermen caught a fifteen-footer last week. Had to toss it back in ’cuz it was too small.”

Rena stared at the boat pilot, looking for body language signs of a lie, but Phillip didn’t smile.

Everyone kept their hands inside the boat after that.

Beau Resort proved to be farther out than any of the guests expected.

The island appeared to be a bare rock. The highest point of the island was the side facing the mainland. A sheer wall rose from the sea, waves crashing against the stolid rock. From that high point, the landscape sloped down and leveled out before sloping once again to the beach. It was on the level ground that Beau Resort sat.

Beau Resort had an old-fashioned look, reminiscent of turn-of-the-century hotels, but a number of modern tweaks gave the architecture a retro, art deco feel. It was a strange combination of design philosophy that, despite the contrasting presentation, somehow worked.

As the boat navigated into the small landing bay, the guests looked up toward the resort, taking in the whole island from their perspective. There was little to see outside the resort itself.

“Not quite how it’s presented in the pamphlet, is it?” said Aubrey, her eyes rolling over the bare landscape, the flatness only broken by the occasional copse of trees.

Rena grinned at Aubrey’s dour observation. “I’m sure it’s delightful. Certainly quiet and relaxing, no doubt.”

Phillip chuckled as he guided the ferry toward the dock. “Don’t you girls worry none,” he said. “That thar resort has all the trimmings a lassie could want. You’ll be supping like queens soon ’nuff.”

“That’s comforting to know,” said Aubrey.

Hannah Evens fluttered the feather-duster over the windowsill, careful not to smudge her clean maid’s uniform. Her tight black dress with the white trim and apron only hinted at its French maid uniform lineage, but it remained form-fitting and revealing in subtle ways. Although the collared V-neck did little to show off her modest breasts, the belt of her apron displayed her small waist to good effect.

Her chore finished, she stepped back from the window. Then the blonde maid turned and said, “Tori…the boat’s arrived.”

There was silence for a moment. Then footsteps approached and suddenly Hannah’s supervisor Tori Parker was in the room.

Six feet tall and even taller in her heels, the dark-haired Tori locked eyes with Hannah.

“About fucking time the ferry got here,” said Tori. “I guess the pilot put his beer down long enough to steer the fucking boat. Now, are you sure everything is ready? Every room has clean sheets? Fresh towels? Plenty of ice available for drinks?”

Hannah shrugged. “Yeah.”

There was silence for a moment. Then Tori stepped forward and wrapped her hand around Hannah’s throat. She pushed the maid against the wall, then leaned forward and put her lips next to Hannah’s ear.

“You know,” said Tori, “I’m positive you forgot to finish that sentence.”

Hannah licked her lips and took a shuddering breath. Then she released the breath.

“Everything is absolutely ready…” said Hannah, adding a vibrant quality to the word. Then she added, “…Mistress.”

Tori licked Hannah’s ear, then released the maid’s throat. “Good girl,” she said. “But I still think I’ll have to discipline you later.”

Hannah gave a demur look toward the floor. “Of course, Mistress. Bad girls should be punished.”

Tori offered an ice-cold smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “Indeed they should, girl. Indeed they should. Now get ready to greet our guests.”

Tori turned and left the room.

Hannah watched Tori leave. She smiled. One day soon you’ll be getting yours, ‘Mistress’.

Tori strode toward the back of the resort, her business-like stride making short work of the distance. Moments later she was in the kitchen.

The resort manager glanced around, then shook her head in exasperation.

“Eric!” she said. Then she raised her voice and said again, “ERIC!”

A trim, brown-haired man with movie-star good looks entered the kitchen from the opposite door. “Yeah…?”

“The guests are here, Eric,” she said. “There’s nothing ready!”

A blank look of confusion settled on Eric’s face. “Well…yeah, I know. I mean, lunch isn’t going to be served for another couple hours…”

Tori threw up her hands. “This is a resort, you nimrod! There has to be something here for them to nibble on after arriving on a boat! This is a quality service establishment, remember?”

Eric opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he said, “Good point. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Tori opened her mouth to say something else, then apparently changed her mind. Finally she sighed, stepped forward and lay her hand against Eric Parker’s cheek.

“You’re lucky you’re so pretty. Good thing I didn’t marry you for of your brains. Mama will let this one go, okay? But you need to think, sweetie. Now whip together some snacks and drinks for our guests, okay, pet?”

Eric nodded. “Sure thing, luv. I’ll do it quick, just like you said.”

Tori smiled. “That’s fine, sweetie. Do a good job and I’ll see you get rewarded later, okay?”

Eric’s face brightened. “Of course, luv. I’m on it.”

Tori turned and strode toward the lobby, trying not to roll her eyes. The things she had to put up with to get the things she wanted.

The struggle was real.

The guests gathered their bags and made their way off the dock and up to the resort. Because of the natural slope of the landscape, the guests were feeling somewhat breathless by the time they made it inside the resort.

They set down their bags and sat in the large, overstuffed couches that filled the lobby. Then Tori entered the room and addressed the guests.

“Good morning,” said the tall woman. “Welcome to Beau Island Resort. My name is Tori Parker and I’m the manager. You are the first set of guests to arrive here in several years, so please forgive any lapses you may find in service or setting. We are still in the process of staffing the resort, but we will strive to make sure your stay is a pleasant experience in every way.”

The guests stirred slightly. “I’m sorry,” said Dr.Lin, “but did you just say this hotel has been closed for years and has no staff?”

Tori shook her head. “Not quite as such, Dr.Lin. I mean, yes, this hotel has been closed for years, but we are open now and fully staffed. Or rather, we will be when the rest of the staff arrive. We did expect them today, but as they didn’t arrive with you on the boat, I expect they’ll be here tomorrow with the other guests.”

“I see,” said Dr.Lin, although she didn’t appear convinced. “Are you the only one here?”

Tori laughed. “Of course not, Dr.Lin. My husband Eric is a top-rated chef and he’s in charge of the kitchen. Paul Straight here traveled on the ferry with you—he’s in charge of our security. And Hannah is our domestic specialist in charge of keeping your rooms tidy. If you have any issues with her performance, please bring them to my attention. I assure you any problems will be addressed immediately.”

Aubrey looked slightly angry. “Closed for years?” she said. “Their website doesn’t say that. In fact, their website makes it look as if they’ve been a busy, bustling hotel with reservations being required weeks or months in advance.”

Tori nodded. “I noticed that as well,” she said. “and you’re correct—it needs to be addressed immediately. I don’t know at this time who handles Mister Beau’s marketing, but I’ll remind him that the website requires an immediate update.”

“Mister Beau?”

Tori nodded again. “Mister Beau owns this resort,” she said. “Benjamin Ian-Merigold Beau.”

Sam Morton laughed. “Quite the mouthful,” he said. “Doesn’t sound at all like a muckity-muck, right? Anyway, I’m sure we’ll all be fine with the service, Miss Parker. Meanwhile, I’m sure everyone would like to see their rooms now and perhaps shower before lunch?”

Tori smiled. “You’re right, of course, Mr.Morton. If you will all follow me, I’ll lead you to your individual rooms.”

The guests were shown to their chambers, where they began unpacking and relaxing in their own ways, while the employees returned to their various duties. But their thoughts were a jumble of anxiety and excitement.

”She bought it. I think she bought it. But I’ll need to play it carefully from here.”

”He’s a bad one. I can tell just by looking at him. I’ll watch him for now. Watch now, act later.”

”It can’t be a coincidence. I don’t believe in coincidence. Well, I’m on to her. I’ve got her right where I want her.”

”I’m a bad boy. Such a bad boy. She’ll punish me for sure.”

”Well, time to get this show on the road.”

”She’s here. And it’s time to teach her a lesson.”

”Something’s wrong. This whole setup stinks. Where the hell’s my contact?”

”This can be a profitable weekend if I play my cards right. I just have to be careful. Really careful. The security guy doesn’t look like much, but that doesn’t mean anything. Rent-a-cop? Maybe. Maybe not.”

”I’m finally here. And I deserve this. I deserve everything I’m going to get. It’s only a matter of time.”

Ten strangers on an island in the middle of nowhere, unpacking clothes, relaxing, preparing for a normal lunch.

The six guests—and Paul, the security specialist—sat down for lunch. There was initially silence as everyone worked on their salads. But slowly the low murmur of conversation pushed the lowkey silence into the quiet corners of the room, where it would remain out-of-the-way, but accessible when needed.

Rena took a bite of her salad, then said, “It’s a bit more remote than I anticipated, but it would seem Beau Resort has much to offer. The rooms seem quite comfortable.”

McKatt shrugged. “It’s a room,” she said.

Dr.Lin took a bite of salad. “It will suffice,” she said.

The table went quiet again, so Aubrey said, “Owning a strip club must feel like living the dream for you, Mr.Morton.”

Sam laughed. “You would think so, right? But most nights it’s simply business as usual.”

Rena smiled. “As a student of the human condition, Mr.Morton, I feel compelled to ask as to the oddest thing you’ve seen during your time as a club owner.”

Sam said, “Call me Sam. My dad was Mr.Morton. As for the strangest thing I’ve seen? Hmmm. Hard to say. You get a real collection of berks at a strip club, I can tell you, so picking just one ain’t easy.”

“No one thing stands out?” said Joan.

“Well,” said Sam, “there was the time I hired this girl Juliette to dance for my club. Pretty little thing, she was. What the dame doesn’t tell me, though, is that she’s as epileptic as the day is long.”

“What’s wrong with that?” said Joan. “Why would epilepsy stop a girl from dancing? You seriously discriminate against a girl because of a medical condition?”

“Not at all,” said Sam. “They can roll onstage in a wheelchair, for all I care, as long as they’re pulling in the customers. I don’t give a fuck. The problem with Juliette, though, is that the stage lights wreaked fucking havoc with the part of her brain that contained the epilepsy or whatever.”

“The lights?”

“Yep,” said Sam, taking a drink. “She went out there, shook her ass for about thirty seconds and then fell down on the stage twitching and jerking like crazy.”

“Grand mal seizure,” said Dr.Lin.

“Exactly,” said Sam. “It’s crazy. Nelly’s singing about how hot it is, strobe lights are going off and Juliette’s seizing all over the place.”

“Good heavens,” said Rena. “What did you do?”

“Do?” said Sam. “I didn’t do anything. She was making a fortune in tips. She was jerking around so hard, everyone thought she was playing with herself. Why would I interfere with a girl making money ass over pussy?”

There was awestruck silence for several heartbeats. Paul smothered a laugh behind his hand. At last Joan said, “Are you being serious?”

Sam took another bite of salad. “Of course I am!” he said. “The girl’s gotta eat, don’t she? I did have to fire her, though. The last thing I needed was another workers comp lawsuit. I remember when Kimyotta got bit on the ass. Cost me a fucking fortune.”

Elizabeth looked up from her phone. “You realize you’re managing to set records for appalling vileness, right?”

Sam chuckled easily. “A man’s got to strive for something, darlin’.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I cannot believe that women allow themselves to be used as toys in an establishment run by a pig. They deserve what they get.”

“Are you jealous, honey?” said Sam. “I’ll give you a job if you want one. A pretty thing like you could make some serious bank. Of course, if you were willing to do more than just dance, you could make a real killing.”

Elizabeth smiled. “You’re an abrasive letch, Morton, but you’re amusing.”

“Letch?” said Dr.Lin. “Less than a letch. You should be an artist, Mr.Morton. You should be displaying those lovely bodies as works of art, but instead you present them in a manner furthering your own base male desires. A letch? Less a letch and more a waste.”

Sam looked at the doctor in surprise. “You sound quite passionate, doctor.”

Dr.Lin smiled at Sam in a manner that gave him chills. “Passionate, Mr.Morton? Of course I’m passionate. What is life without passion?” The Asian woman leaned forward then, her eyes suddenly alive. “I could make you beautiful, Mr.Morton. More beautiful than you deserve. And perhaps…perhaps one day I will.”

Tori, Eric and Hannah began serving lunch at that moment, saving the guests from further conversation.

Lunch was successful. None of the guests appeared to have any complaints. Even the dour Dr.Lin appeared satisfied.

Rena said to Tori, “Your husband appears to be quite the artist in the kitchen, Mrs.Parker.”

Tori gave a slight smile. “He’s even more than that, Miss Lacke. Do not be surprised if you turn on your television one day soon and see Eric’s face.”

“Oh?”

Tori nodded. “Yes,” she said. “In fact, one of the guests arriving tomorrow will be interviewing Eric about potentially hosting a cooking show.”

“My goodness,” said Rena. “That’s wonderful. You must be so proud.”

”Proud?” thought Tori. “We fucking deserve it. I fucking deserve it. Fuck proud.”

Tori offered another professional smile. “Oh, yes,” she said. “Quite proud.”

A light dessert was brought out for those who wanted one. Coffee and tea was served, as well as wine and beverages. Hannah took a short break and Eric left the kitchen to mingle with the guests. The guests were relaxed and even the employees appeared to be enjoying themselves.

And then a voice rang out: “LADIES AND GENTLEMAN. YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE.”

Everyone looked around. No one could place the voice or where it was coming from. It sounded like it was coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

The voice continued.

”You are charged with the following indictments:

“Elizabeth Besting, that you brought about the corruption and downfall of sorority applicant Chloe Carlton.

“Hannah Evens, that you willfully and intentionally brought about the bimbification of Lady Victoria Carrigan.

“Paul Jaiston, that you did willfully and intentionally bimbify co-workers Sharon Abrell and Kyle Downs.

“Rena Lacke, that you did willfully and intentionally organize and profit from a sex ring involving a number of your unknowing clients.

“Doctor Cara Lin, that you did intentionally and maliciously trick numerous men into permanent body-changing surgery.

“Joan McKatt, that you brought about the gender-change and corruption of internal affairs agent William Cordon.

“Sam Morton, that you did bring about the bimbification and slutification of numerous women to work at your establishment.

“Eric and Tori Parker, that you did willfully and intentionally bring about the bimbification of rival Abigail Tassel.

“Professor Aubrey Rush, that you are guilty of leading six graduate students into the hands of a Chrystal Mountains tribe and then leaving them so that you could escape.

“Prisoners at the bar, have you anything to say in your defense?”

There was thunderstruck silence for a moment after the voice stopped. Then everyone began talking at once.

“What the hell was that?!”

“Fucking outrageous!”

“Who’s idea of a joke is this?!”

Most of the guests were on their feet now, looking around. Paul looked furious and was running his fingers around the picture frames.

Tori held up her hands. “Everyone, can we please have order? Everyone, order please. Order.”

The chaos continued unabated, with everyone trying to speak at once.

Tori reached over and picked up a dessert plate. Then she casually smashed it on the table.

There was an immediate silence.

“Thank you,” said Tori. “First, I apologize for this occurrence. Please understand that this is in no way the work of Beau Resort. In fact, this nasty prank appears to be aimed at our employees as well as the guests.”

“Lies!” said Hannah, her eyes slightly unfocused. “It was a lie! I never did a thing to that woman! They had no right to accuse me of—“

“Stop that immediately, Hannah,” said Tori, giving the maid a stern look. “This is not the time for hysterics.”

Hannah’s eyes became more glazed. “S-sorry, Mistress. Sorry.”

Mistress? The guests looked at each other in half-surprise, half-amused.

Sam snickered. “Mistress, eh? So that’s the way it is here?”

Tori gave Sam a withering look. “Don’t be tiresome, Mr.Morton. I will not even dignify that with an answer.”

Then Joan McKatt turned to Tori. The black detective had said little during the ensuing chaos, but now she appeared ready to engage.

“While I agree that the state of the resort chain of command amongst your staffing is not a concern at the moment, I do have a question about your staff in context of the recording we just heard.”

Tori met Joan’s stare with an equally icy expression of her own. “I don’t think we should even consider that recording relevant, Miss McKatt.”

“Perhaps we should,” said McKatt, unmoved by Tori’s glare. “You say your staff is not responsible, but I see an inconsistency that should be addressed…assuming, of course, you don’t wish us to hold you and your staff responsible for the list of slander we were just subject to.”

Tori held her glare a moment longer. Then she said, “Miss McKatt, please make your point.”

“Gladly,” said Joan. Then she turned and pointed at Paul, who was still running his fingers over the objects in the room. “You earlier identified your security man as Paul Straight. However, there was no Paul Straight mentioned in the recording. There was, however, a Paul Jaiston listed amongst the accused. So maybe you could explain the discrepancy?”

Angry eyes turned toward Paul. Tori took a step forward, as did Sam and Joan.

“Well, Paul?” said Tori. “Perhaps you have something to tell us? Or do I turn you over to the angry guests?”

Paul held up his hands, palms up. “Thanks for the support, Tori,” he said, cutting the resort manager a hostile, narrow-eyed glare. “But yeah, Paul Jaiston referred to me. The old me, anyway. There was an…incident…I wanted to put behind me, so I changed my name. Legally. That’s all there is to it.”

Joan looked at Tori. “Did you even check his references? Don’t you check out your employees before you hire them?”

Tori turned away from Paul and looked at McKatt. “I wasn’t responsible for hiring Paul. Or for hiring anyone, for that matter. Mister Beau did all the hiring.”

Joan nodded. “I see,” she said. She turned back to Paul. “Convenient name change for you, wasn’t it? Because I remember reading about an incident at Blonde Concepts involving a Paul Jaiston. An incident where two other employees were turned into sex-obsessed bimbos.”

“Fine,” said Paul. “Yes, that was me, all right? I was just a security guard there. But the charge was a bad rap. I caught those two trying to steal supplies. When they realized they couldn’t talk their way out of it and that I couldn’t be bought, they tried to wipe out my intelligence. It was a fight that could have gone either way, but I got lucky.”

Sam had a skeptical expression. “Wow. So you were totally motivated by loyalty to your employer and doing the upstanding thing, right?”

Paul gave Sam a look. “Your sarcasm is hysterical, pal. No, I wasn’t motivated by loyalty to my employer or doing the right thing. I was motivated by a desire to keep my fucking brains, all right, asshole?”

Sam snorted. “Don’t get pissed off with me, Sparky. I’m not the one who got caught working under a fake name.”

Hannah giggled.

“Whatever,” said Paul. “Anyway, long story short, Blonde Concepts didn’t want the publicity, so they decided not to press charges. I was offered the chance to resign to avoid a black mark on my record, so I took it. The episode made the papers, thought, so I changed my name to avoid Blonde Concepts’ competitors pursuing me for information.”

Rena spoke up then. “Blonde Concepts? Are we talking about the cosmetic company based in Chrystal Heights?”

McKatt shook her head. “Not just cosmetics,” she said. “Their R&D department has turned out a lot of high-tech body-mod devices and formulas over the years. They even have a line of clothing and jewelry now. Got kind of a shady reputation for…well, all sorts of things, really. They’re powerful, though, and their top brass are major players.”

Sam poked his finger into Paul’s chest. “Considering the bullshit accusations that recording made, that sounds like something Blonde Concepts would be involved in, wouldn’t you say?”

Everyone murmured their agreement, but McKatt shook her head. “First off, Blonde Concepts would encourage bimbifications, not make accusations about them. And second off, why in the world would they start spouting off random accusations? Use your heads, people.”

“Also,” said Paul, smacking Sam’s finger away from him, “I’m finally back in the security business again. Why the fuck would I blow it by setting up a stupid recording? This is the last fucking thing I needed.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Tori. “In fact, I’m thinking Mister Beau and I need to discuss your employment when he gets here. The guests have been here less than three hours and there’s already been a major security breach. Between that and your less-than-stellar background, I think your position needs to be reconsidered.”

“He’s aware of my history,” said Paul stiffly.

“So you say,” said Tori. “We’ll see.”

“Fine, Tori,” said Paul. “You do what you have to do. Meanwhile, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find the hidden speakers. Somebody went to an awful lot of trouble to hide them and I want to know how they were able to do that without me knowing.”

“Hey!” said Elizabeth, who had been silent the entire time. “The Internet’s out.”

A look of concern failed to pass over anyone’s features.

“Yeah?” said Sam. “Your next Facebook post is going to be a little late is all. So?”

Elizabeth appeared suddenly restless. “I just don’t like being out of touch like that. Makes me feel cut off.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Paul. “I doubt the Internet’s out. More likely your phone is the issue.”

Aubrey pulled out her phone. “No signal here either.”

“Me either,” said Joan.

Paul rolled his eyes. “All right, all right. I’ll look into it, okay? Could everyone get off my back now?”

There was some grumbling and it once again appeared that Paul was going to engage with the guests. But then someone else spoke up.

Rena was looking at Aubrey with deceptively casual eyes. “So tell me, Aubrey,” said Rena. “Am I correct in assuming that you are that Professor Aubrey Rush? Of Chrystal Heights University fame?”

Aubrey was silent for a moment. Then she finally said, “Yes, I am.”

Rena’s manner cooled another few degrees. “I see.”

The other guests glanced at each other awkwardly.

Aubrey sighed. “Caroline was aware of the danger, you know.”

Rena gave the professor a look. “You know who I am?”

“Not specifically,” said Aubrey, “but you have the same last name as Caroline. I don’t recall her having any sisters, though.”

“Cousin,” said Rena.

Joan said, “You two know each other?”

“In a manner of speaking,” said Rena. “Professor Aubrey Rush here led a group of grad students to do an archeological survey of the Chrystal Mountains. My cousin Caroline was one of those grad students who accompanied the professor because she trusted her. Unfortunately, Professor Rush was the only one to make it back.”

Aubrey gave Rena a cold look, then looked back to the group. “That’s a bit of a simplification. We ran into a tribe of natives. That particular tribe didn’t typically frequent the part of the Chrystal Mountains we were bound for, so we were unprepared when they located us. They surrounded us and moved in. I managed to escape. My team didn’t.”

Rena continued to glare at Aubrey. “And you accuse me of oversimplification. Why don’t you tell them what happens to those captured by tribes out there?”

Aubrey sighed again, then said, “Fine. Anybody captured by mountain tribes are usually used as breeding stock and service sluts. So Caroline has probably carried two or three tribe babies by now and sucked a lot of cock. Satisfied?”

Everybody stared at Aubrey in shock. Even Sam appeared uncomfortable.

Hannah giggled.

Tori turned to the maid, grateful for the distraction. “You find that funny??”

Hannah giggled. “Ummmm…yeppers, Mistress. Sucking cock is…is fun, y’know…?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Has everybody lost their mind today? Isn’t sea air supposed to be healthy?”

Hannah giggled again. Then she slid her fingers into her uniform V-neck and pulled the hem apart, tearing the uniform down her front and revealing her black bra.

Tori blinked. “Hannah…!”

Hannah tittered and pulled her uniform off her body. Clad in only black panties and bra, as well as her modest black heels, Hannah began strutting around the table. She twirled and danced to a song apparently only she could hear.

Rena looked to Tori. “Is this typical behavior for her?”

Tori shook her head. “No, it’s not.”

Hannah unhooked her bra and resumed her dance around the table, singing to herself as she did so. “La la la…I don’t want…anybody else…when I think about you, I touch myself…la la la…”

Tori looked confused. Eric looked concerned. Dr.Lin’s eyes glittered. Sam and Paul appeared to openly enjoy the show.

Hannah slid her panties over her hips and down to her ankles. She stepped out of them and proceeded to continue her dance naked.

Rena said in a calm voice, “Hannah? Can you talk to me?”

Hannah giggled. “I can totally hear you, pretty lady. And my pretty Mistress. My hot Mistress. Can Hannah have a spanking, Mistress?”

Dr.Lin and Rena stepped over to Hannah and took the naked girl by her arms. Together they walked her out of the dining room and to her room, followed by Tori.

An hour later they emerged, minus Hannah. The maid was reportedly sleeping.

“Well?” said Joan. The black detective had her arms crossed.

Dr.Lin spread her hands. “I don’t have equipment,” she said, “so I cannot conduct a proper examination. But physically she appears to be fine, if somewhat aroused.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, I saw that when she stripped down. She was definitely fine.”

Elizabeth gave Morton a look, then shook her head. “For you, class is just something that happens to other people, isn’t it?”

Rena cut in. “Physically, Hannah’s fine. Mentally, however, she’s just…well, she’s…”

“A stripper?” said Aubrey.

“Hard to say without a more complete examination,” said Rena, “but that would seem to be the heart of it. She lacks any sense of place or situation. She seems to be taking everything in through a very small mental filter and appears to take no notice of anything not directly affecting her. She won’t wear clothing and she appears to have little sense of the appropriate or any form of social mores.”

Joan gave Paul a look plainly filled with suspicion. “So what do you think, supercop? Did she catch something? Have a breakdown? Or did somebody do something to her?”

Paul rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure someone did something to her. Some evil cad snuck up to her and gave her some stripper spooky dust. Let’s begin the interrogations now, shall we? Which one of you evil bastards turned our maid into a stripper? Well? Speak up!”

“Enough!” said Tori. “Enough of the accusations and arguing! Paul, leave the room right now and if you cannot interact with our guests in a civilized manner, then you will refrain from interacting at all. Am I clear?”

Paul looked like he wanted to say something cutting, but he finally settled on “Fine”. Then he turned and left the room.

Tori turned back to the group. “As for the rest of you,” she said, “I apologize on behalf of Beau Resort. I assure you that we will get to the bottom of this tasteless practical joke of a recording as quickly as possible. Mister Beau himself should be joining us tomorrow and I’m sure he’ll express his displeasure with this afternoon’s incident as well. So please, if everyone could put this unfortunate incident behind them, we can begin making sure the rest of your stay here at Beau Resort is a pleasant one.”

Nobody could think of anything to say to that, so they nodded and began heading back to their respective rooms. The dining room cleared and soon only Tori and Eric remained, picking up the plates and cleaning off the table.

The Parkers were quiet as they worked. Both of them were thinking about Hannah in her room, naked and waiting. Waiting for them.