The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Theodore Harrison left his office right on time and immediately left downtown, driving north. He was undoubtably heading toward the Liliha Kapalama cabins. Perfect! Sam smiled grimly, as she followed him up the Lunalilo Freeway.

Wasting little time, Harrison drove to Cabin Number Seven, and secluded himself. Sam parked outside and waited in her car, the camera at the ready. Luckily a streetlight illuminated the cabin’s door perfectly. All she had to do was wait.

After fifteen minutes, the room service trolley came by, delivering champagne, long-stemmed strawberries, and a vase of tall roses. Harrison accepted them greedily, but refused to tip the poor bellhop.

And then… time ticked by.

After an hour, the cabin door opened, and Harrison poked his head outside, clearly irritated. Sam watched him carefully. The businessman looked out into the street, checked his watch, then withdrew.

A half an hour later, this ritual repeated itself. And then again, twenty minutes after that.

Sam was growing anxious. The sun had set long ago, and she was tired of leafing through her casebook. Worse, she needed a bathroom.

When yet another thirty minutes ticked by, Sam couldn’t stand it. Knowing she was risking everything, she threw down her notes, and made a dash for the outhouse, just beyond the cabin. Thankfully, it was reasonably clean.

On the walk back to the car, Cabin Seven’s door popped open. Sam flinched, but it was too late. Harrison was staring directly at her.

In the PI business, the first order of business is to never let the subject see your face. A sloppy investigator can contaminate the very event they are trying to witness. And worse, the target might remember their face, which can have disastrous consequences in court.

“You!” Harrison demanded, pointing at Sam.

It was the detective’s first look at her subject up close. Theodore Harrison was tall and pale, even for a man from Boston. He had an oddly-proportioned frame, with a skinny chest, yet bulging gut, stick-like legs, yet big, knobby knees which peaked out from under his shorts. Although he was not a heavy man, Harrison had three chins, making his pudgy face and upturned nose look fairly pig-like.

Luckily, Sam had dressed in a plain white blouse, tan slacks, and low heels. In the dim light, she looked like a Kuka Cabins employee.

“Come ’ere,” Harrison demanded, and a small black-and-white photograph appeared in his hands. “You, have you seen this girl? Name’s Noelani?”

Sam, trying not to make eye contact, studied the photo. It was of a lovely native woman, probably in her early twenties. The girl had thick, round lips, sculpted cheekbones, wavy black hair, and a complexion that a beauty queen would have killed for. Sam was struck by the gorgeous woman’s eyes; even in the still photograph, the woman’s gaze was mesmerizing. She smiled sweetly at the camera.

“Er, no, sir,” Sam mumbled.

Harrison let out a disgusted snort. “If you see her, you send her straight here, understand?” he barked, then slammed the door before Sam could reply.

Well, if nothing else, at least Sam had a name and face for the mistress. That was something.

But Noelani never arrived for her evening tryst. At ten-thirty, Harrison stormed out of Cabin Seven, dramatically throwing the strawberries and roses into the trash. He angrily drove off, guzzling the champagne as he went.

Sam was depressed. No photo of the illicit couple meant that Mrs. Harrison had every right to refuse to pay Sam’s bill. It seemed that this Noelani had dumped her older boyfriend without telling him, which certainly meant this case was lost. Just Sam’s luck.

Well, there was an outside chance Mackenzie was still available for a late, late dinner. She would be dancing until eleven o’clock, and then perhaps then Sam and her cousin could grab a late bite at the Maika?i bar.

The hula show was just wrapping up when Sam reached the Hotel Hotel Maika?i’s Luau Patio, right by the pool. Pampered, well-fed guests from the mainland applauded as the young dancers took their bows, then scampered offstage.

Sam frowned as she scanned the beautiful young faces. Mackenzie wasn’t there. Where was that girl?

Moving quickly, the detective intercepted Alanna, one of the plumper dancers. “Hey,” Sam asked. “You seen Mack?”

“Your cousin?” Alana replied, looking annoyed. “No, she stiffed us tonight. After we’re short-handed too.”

Sam straightened. “What do you mean?”

“First Malia and Kailani stopped doing evening shows,” complained Alana. “And then, just before tonight’s performance, Mack, Malia, and Kailani all get into some kind of argument in the dorms. It made me late, because I was waiting to borrow Mack’s sewing kit.”

“Okay,” Sam said, prompting. “So where is she?”

“Mack? Gone,” Alana huffed. “I went down to wardrobe, and when I come back up, Mack and the others are leaving the room. You know what your cousin had the gall to tell me?”

“What?” Sam asked warily.

“She says, ‘I’ve got a party to go to.’ And then the three of them just leave!” Alana snapped her fingers. “Just like that!”

When confronted by the inexplicable, any detective instinctively wants to examine the scene of the crime. Sam talked her way past Mackenzie’s suspicious chaperone, and soon was in the tiny dorm room that her cousin shared with Malia and Kailani. Allowing her instincts to take over, the beautiful investigator began snooping.

The dorm room was a complete mess, as usual. Discarded clothes and movie magazines littered the floor. Not one of the beds were made, and the dressers were utterly disheveled. The tiny closets did little to hide the piles of laundry that had been washed but never folded. If Sam hadn’t visited Mackenzie on a regular basis, she would have assumed the room had been ransacked.

But nothing seemed unusual. It was as if the girls had simply stepped out for a cigarette.

Discouraged and worried, Sam turned to leave. Something crunched under her shoe.

Surprised, the detective looked down, and then knelt. There was a scattering of sand on the thin carpet.

Sam paused. Was it her imagination, or was the sand… glittering?

She knelt, scooping a tiny amount of sand into her palm. This was odd, indeed. Mackenzie hated the beach. And now that Sam looked, she noted the fine particles were scattered on top of the clothes. This sand had been dropped very, very recently.

The Hawai’i Bureau of Tourism had long promised the world that the islands’ beaches were sugar-like, and that was not a complete exaggeration. And yet, this sand seemed odd. Lighter and definitely sparkling, the sand had a faint scent, something Sam could not entirely place. Something sweet… soothing… Hmm.

Although she was tired, Sam pushed herself into her office early the next morning. Her caseload was heavy, and she still hoped to swing past Mackenzie’s dormitory.

Sam checked her messages and mail, then spent a little time reorganizing her casebook. As she was writing, the office door banged open.

“Morning, chief!” cried Halia, bustling into the small office, her backpack in her arms.

Glaring, Sam let out a long, shaky breath. “What… what are you…?” was all she managed.

Oblivious to the Sam’s irritation, the cheerful teenager immediately tore into her bag, removing stacks of bound papers and plopping them onto the desk. “So,” she chatted merrily, “I started looking into Baker Colonial Reality. I don’t understand a lot of the legal terms, but then I found this really neat glossary, which was really, really helpful, you know? So groovy. Anyway, Baker Colonial—I call them Baker Col for short—they’ve been filing a lot of requests for—“

“STOP!” the exasperated Sam cried.

Halia looked at her, surprised.

“What… what is all of this?” exclaimed Sam, aghast at the sheer volume of paper.

Halia’s bright smile faded. “Theodore Harrison…” she said uncertainly. “You told me to look at Theodore Harrison, and his company, Baker Colonial Reality. Down at City Records. Remember?”

Sam was dumbstruck. “You found all of this at City Records?”

“Oh yes,” Halia assured the detective, becoming a chatterbox once more. “My mother is a librarian, and Uncle Kale works in City Archives. So I know my way around big filing systems.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I also know where the key to the Xerox photocopier room is. Anyway…”

Halia began touring Sam through a roundabout—yet very through—history of Baker Colonial’s financial interest in Hawai’i. There was nothing suspicious or unusual, merely a lot of requests for land records and property contracts.

“Okay,” Sam frowned, lighting a cigarette. “But what about Harrison? He’s the real fish.”

“Ah,” said Halia, unearthing a second set of papers. “Well, he’s been one busy little bee, let me tell you. Look…”

Harrison was the signature on most of the Baker archive requests. He’d been poking about property registrations, occasionally filing papers in court, nothing unusual for a corporate real estate man. There was a lot of money moving about, however.

“Not much there,” Sam remarked. Still, she was impressed by the sheer amount of material Halia had captured.

“Oh, this is just the stuff Harrison did with the Baker Col name on it,” said Halia. “But this is the stuff he did on his own.” The teenager produced a third stack of documents.

Sam’s eyebrow arched. “On his own?” she repeated. Without waiting for the teenager, she began rifling through the last pile of papers. “Oh my God…!” she exclaimed.

“What?” Halia asked.

Harrison had filed for a boat license. Not just any boat, either. According to his application, the Sweet Twilight was a single-mast, thirty-foot cutter, docked in Pier 34. Right off the Ke’ehi Lagoon. And Harrison had also been in touch with the US State Department, filing a number of requests for travel advisories. And he’d made an appointment with Vital Records at the local courthouse.

Sam plopped into her chair, a wide grin spreading across her face.

“What?” Halia asked.

The detective held up the papers. “Halia, you beautiful, beautiful girl. Do you know what you have here?”

“Uh…”

“You’ve just cracked the Harrison case wide open,” Sam smirked. “Look.” She began laying down papers as she explained: “Harrison bought a small yacht, right? Well, he’s a real estate scout. He doesn’t have that kind of salary. So where did he get the cash?”

“Where?” Halia asked.

“He embezzled it, obviously,” Sam pronounced. “See how many times he’s filed to manipulate Baker Colonial’s money wires? Here. And here. And here. He’s robbing his employer blind. And why is he doing this, you may ask? He also intends to loot his joint bank account with Mrs. Harrison, file for a sudden divorce, then sail off before she has any idea what he’s plotting.”

Sam shook her head. “And the slimy bastard was going to propose to his girlfriend, Noelani, last night. Take her with him around the Pacific. Wow.”

“You can see all that…?” Halia asked, looking at the papers, bewildered.

“Its all there,” Sam said, absently twirling her cigarette. She scrunched up her face. “Only one thing bugs me, though…”

“What?” Halia asked.

Sam took a long draw, thinking. “I’ve seen our man Harrison. And I’ve seen what his girl looks like. He’s older than her father and uglier than a warthog; she’s an absolute stunner. A girl like Noelani doesn’t get involved with a man like Harrison because he writes her flowery poetry. She throws herself at him because he has money.”

“Okay…” Halia said, not following.

“So, once Noelani had her sugar daddy wrapped around her little finger and they both are about to sail away in stolen luxury… why didn’t she show up last night?” The detective exhaled smoke, lost in thought. “Why dump her meal ticket?”

“Oh…” said Halia slowly.

Sam gave it another few seconds before shrugging her shoulders. “Ah, who cares. Maybe Noelani decided Harrison wasn’t worth it at the last second. Who knows. The important thing is, we got our man.”

The detective regarded Halia with something like admiration. “How long did it take you to pull all this together?”

“Couple hours,” said the teenager almost sheepishly. “I had to stop for lunch and pee breaks.”

Sam broke into a wide smile.

“Can I work with you, then?” the teen pleaded. “Please, please???”

Sam scooped up her casebook. “I have to make some stops. Listen, I need you to go up to the university. See if any geologist has done a survey of all the sand here on the islands.”

“Sand?” Halia echoed.

“Sand,” repeated Sam firmly. “It’s for a new case. Can you get that information?”

The teenager straightened in pride. “You got it, chief!”

Sam nodded tightly. Then she picked up the phone, dialing Mrs. Harrison’s number.

That day was a busy one. Sam had two other cases to work on, both of which ate up more time than she’d anticipated. Before she knew it, it was past seven o’clock in the evening. And the detective had yet to have lunch.

Sam was in Honolulu’s Chinatown, not far from Aala Park. It was increasingly unlikely she’d have the time to swing by the Hotel Hotel Maika?i and check up on Mackenzie. Cursing the fates, Sam found a pay phone instead.

Almost immediately, one of the dormitory chaperones picked up. “Mackenzie Kono, please,” Sam asked.

The chaperone almost exploded. “Is this that Sam Smith?” the older woman ranted. “Well, me tell you something, missy. You tell your little cousin that she can’t just leave for parties in the evening! I’ve rescheduled her for the day shows, but we have too many girls skipping the evening shows!”

“Wait,” Sam said, alarmed. “Mackenzie left for a party?”

“You’re a bad influence on her, I just know it!” the chaperone cried, then hung up.

Sam bit her lip, now really worried. Mackenzie was responsible and a naturally shy girl, to boot. It just wasn’t like her to run off for a wild party. And certainly not two days in a row.

What had Mack said about her friends, Malia and Kailani? Its like they turned into Pod People or something. Now Sam knew what she meant.

As the detective fretted, the winds changed. A handful of small, delicate flower petals swept over the phone booth.

Sam paused, looking down at the tiny blooms. They were triangular-shaped, barely a quarter-inch long. She glanced about. Ah! The ripening Hala trees in the park were shedding all these flowers. Already, they were sprinkled over the nearby parked cars.

A flash of recognition hit Sam. She’d seen very similar blooms recently… Where…? Oh yes, outside of Kuliouou-Kalani Iki. From that big manor house up on the hill. Those blooms had a different scent, however. They smelled like pumpkin and lilac.

Pumpkin and lilac…

The glittering sand Sam had found in Mackenzie’s dorm room had smelled of pumpkin and lilac.

Feeling both worried and hopeful, the detective turned and hurried to her car.

Eastward traffic on the Kalaniana’ole Highway was thankfully light, and soon Sam found herself down the hill from the manor house.

What was this estate? She wished she’d thought to look it up earlier.

As before, the house was aglow with light, and there was rock-n-roll playing from outdoor speakers. The sound of laughing women carried down the hill.

Sam snatched her casebook.

Sam squinted as she approached the big house, which was protected by high stone walls and a gate of black iron. The estate was positive massive; there had to be at least five acres of carefully-manicured grounds inside those walls. The great mansion dominated the center of the property.

There were lines of Koa and Hala trees lining the interior of the walls, and the scent of pumpkin and lilac was unmistakable. The detective paused to collect a few of the blooms to press into her casebook. While they looked like traditional Hawai’ian vegetation, Sam was fairly certain there was something odd about these flowers.

The iron gate was open. Sam didn’t see a bell. Across the wide lawn, she could see a few young women in bikinis setting up a volleyball net on the greens.

“Excuse me!” Sam called out.

The young women didn’t hear her. Sam paused, debating what to do.

As she touched the black gates, the redheaded detective noted a fine powder coating the metal. No, not powder. Pollen! A thin, white pollen was everywhere, almost invisible to the eye, but highly fragrant. Pumpkin and lilac. Sam withdrew her hand, noting how the pollen had already stuck to her fingertips. No doubt those strange trees were scattering the seed like crazy.

“Hey there!” a bubbly voice behind Sam exclaimed.

The detective turned, surprised.

Behind her was a beautiful Hawai’ian girl, positively radiant in the evening light. The young woman had black wavy hair, big brown eyes, shining white teeth, and a stunning complexion. Sam was mildly jealous of her beauty.

“Isn’t this exciting?” the girl sighed. “I always enjoy these parties. Is this your first time?”

“Uh, yes,” Sam lied.

“Oh, great,” the other woman beamed. “Can I show you in? The more, the merrier, I always say.”

Before Sam could protest, her companion took her by the arm, propelled her through the gate, and toward the house.

As they passed under a lamp, Sam got a clear look at the beautiful woman’s face. Her heart leapt. The girl was Noelani, Noelani Iona! Theodore Harrison’s ex-mistress!

“You’ll just love it here,” Noelani dreamily promised Sam. “I know I do.”

Incredulous, Sam followed the lovely Noelani up the main walk, over a stone patio, and into the manor house. The mansion was immaculately clean, with high, white walls, shining tiled floors, and the distant scent of blooming flowers in the air. Large ceiling fans lazily spun above. The lighting was soft, yet not dim. Sam noticed large nautical maps framed on the walls.

Noelani seemed to know exactly where she was going. She led Sam up one of the twin staircases, then down a gently curving hallway. As they passed bedrooms, Sam could hear and see many beautiful young women, all in various states of undress. She felt increasingly uncomfortable.

“Here we are,” Noelani announced, and entered the fifth bedroom on the right.

The room was tidy and the bed was recently made. Neatly laid out on the bureau was a collection of small, identical white boxes, each perhaps the size of a thick book.

Sam noted the bedroom’s window looked out onto the main lawn, where more young women were organizing a badminton game. A sparling pool was visible. A dance area was also in preparation by more bikini’ed women. It looked to be quite a celebration.

“So, um…” Sam asked, craning her neck to see as much of the outside as she could, “you come here often?”

“This is my third party,” replied Noelani, her voice warm and happy.

Sam’s eyes popped when she glanced back into the bedroom. Noelani was stripping completely naked. Unconcerned with Sam’s presence or the open bedroom door, the willowy young lady took her time, making sure to neatly fold her discarded clothes as she went.

“You aren’t changing?” she asked Sam casually.

“Er…” the detective replied. Awkwardly, she shuffled her casebook back and forth in her hands.

Noelani, now completely nude, moved to the bureau and opened the first box. “Rose?” she mused to herself. “Mmm, not today.”

Sam studied the other woman carefully. Noelani seemed almost unaware of her actions, as if she were walking through a dream. Perhaps she was high? Drug use on the islands was rare, but not unheard of.

Noelani certainly didn’t seemed drugged, however. She was a classic Hawai’ian beauty, with elegant coffee skin and supple-yet-sleek curves. Sam could see why Harrison was gaga for this young woman’s luscious body.

Noelani rejected two more boxes before exclaiming, “Ah! Sky blue!” on her fourth selection.

Now Sam saw what was in the little boxes; Noelani removed a miniscule blue bikini and immediately began putting it on.

With a quick glance outside, Sam confirmed: all the women here were wearing the same design of bikini. Different colors, yes, but the same model on every girl. Breasts were displayed, tummies laid bare, bottoms nearly exposed. Sam had a trim figure herself, but she would never be caught dead in such an outfit.

“You all wear the same swimsuit?” she asked, surprised.

Noelani looked at Sam with an odd expression, and too late, the detective realized she’d made a mistake. “I mean,” Sam said quickly, “do you always pick the same color?”

“Me? No. I like to change up,” the other woman replied, tucking her breasts into their cups.

“Its my first party,” Sam reminded her.

Noelani nodded, but now seemed suspicious. “How do you know Harper?” she asked, point-blank.

Sam was cornered. Going for broke, she lied freely. “Oh,” she said casually, “you know… My cousin Mackenzie, she’s been to one of these parties. She thought she could introduce me to Harper. Looking forward to meeting him.”

Immediately, Noelani’s expression brightened. “Oh, you’re Mackenzie’s cousin?” she exclaimed, delighted.

“Yeah,” replied Sam. “You know Mack?”

“Oh, she’s just a doll,” Noelani beamed, adjusting her bikini top. “We love her here.” She gestured to the tiny, white boxes. “Don’t you want to get changed?”

Sam hesitated. Donning a bikini would help her blend in… but she just couldn’t do it. Sam never had been a beach bunny kind of girl.

“Maybe later,” she offered.

“Mmmgh,” said Noelani. “Well, let’s go find your cousin.”

The two women descended from the mansion and out into the party, which was finally in full swing. There was a champagne bar, two volleyball games, croquet, pool activities, a scavenger hunt in the gardens, and a limbo competition. On the dance floor, girls were happily twisting away to Chubby Checker.

Sam stared in all directions. There were perhaps twenty young women here, all strapped into the same tiny bikini, all laughing and giggling and carrying on like wild teenagers. Everyone was smiling like it was Christmas morning.

It took the investigator a moment, but soon she was certain. The only attendees of this party were gorgeous, stunning young women, all with svelte bodies, all with bouncing breasts and long, bare legs. There were no men, no-one over the age of thirty nor under the age of sixteen. And while most of the beauties were native girls, there were a few mainlanders smiling in the crowd. Everyone seemed wildly happy, almost intoxicated. It was all very odd. In her street clothes and with her casebook under one arm, Sam felt very out-of-place.

“There she is!” Noelani exclaimed, linking her arm with Sam’s. “Mackenzie! Mackenzie, baby! Look who I found!”

Sam stared ahead, to the poolside. There, in a cluster of three other near-naked women, was Mackenzie. As the young hula dancer turned, the detective was stunned. Her cousin was nearly unrecognizable.

Mackenzie stood tall and proud, her lovely chin high, her shoulders square, and her ample chest stuck out. Her half-Irish, half-native skin stood out from the other girls, and shimmered with what Sam guessed was coconut oil. Mackenzie’s rich, green eyes glinted, and her smile wide and sweet. Her long, wavy muddy red hair, which was usually tied up, now tumbled down her back like a waterfall. The girl glowed with confidence and delight.

Sam was taken aback to see Mackenzie in a bikini. She’d seen her cousin in her hula costume of a grass skirt and those ridiculous coconut bras, or course. But this bikini was something else entirely. The hula costume was a lame attempt to cater to naïve mainlander tourists; the bikini was designed to show off a woman’s body and make her irresistible. Sam had never seen the overtly sexy Mackenzie before.

There was something else, something which gave Sam pause. Mackenzie was normally shy and nervous. Here, she seemed outgoing, confident, positively giddy. Even as Sam eyed her cousin, Mackenzie tossed her hair in a playful way, then laughed heartily.

Something was definitely amiss.

“Sam!” Mackenzie crowed, moving to embrace her cousin. “You came! I’m so glad!”

“Hey, cuz,” replied Sam, aware of all the other women watching closely. “I… uh, didn’t know you were into the party scene.”

Sam knew for a fact that Mackenzie hated parties.

“Oh, I just love it here,” the hula dancer gushed, popping her head to one side in an airheaded, flirty way. “The other girls, they just make be feel so… I dunno. So at home here.”

There was a chattering of agreement from all the other bikini’ed women.

“I see,” Sam said guardedly.

“So you got invited, too?” Mackenzie asked, moving to take Sam’s arm. “Have you met Harper?”

The detective studied Mackenzie’s almost-vacant eyes, weighing what she wanted to say next very carefully. “Not really. So… did they offer you anything to drink or snort when you got here?”

Mackenzie laughed, a joyous and musical sound. “Oh my goodness,” she declared, leaning close to Sam. “You haven’t actually been here before, have you?”

Now the other women were clustering about, surrounding Sam and Mackenzie in a curious circle. Beautiful smiles beamed at Sam from all directions. The detective failed to notice as the women passed a small, velvet bag between one another. As Sam and Mackenzie were talking, that bag reached Noelani.

“Mack,” Sam said, dropping pretenses, “can we talk for a sec? Just you and me?”

“Of course,” said Mackenzie, still chuckling. “We can talk about anything you want, Sam.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “Listen—“

The velvet bag was slipped into Mackenzie’s hand. Noelani had untied the clasp, and now Mackenzie’s graceful fingers slipped inside.

“What’s that?” said Sam, craning her neck to look.

Mackenzie laughed joyously. “Sam, dear, you should sleeeeeep…” she said gaily, playfully throwing her hand into the air.

A small amount of glittering sand flew from her fingers, catching Sam in the face. The fine sand was so light, it appeared like a cloud of shimmering chalk dust.

The detective staggered back, coughing and gagging. Instantly, two women stepped forward, taking her by the shoulders and making sure she didn’t topple over.

“There, Sam,” Mackenzie smiled, stepping closer. A grinning Noelani moved in, too. The hula dancer placed a gentle hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t you want to relax?”

Sam’s mind tumbled. For an instant, her thoughts whirled about.

“You want to relax, Sam,” Mackenzie said gently. She stepped forward, gently laying her hand on the dazed PI’s cheek. “Relax… Relax… Listen to me, Sam.”

The confused detective felt Mackenzie’s words penetrate her mind. As she regained control of her breathing, Sam was dimly aware that her body was relaxing. Her arms and legs were letting go. Her head felt heavy and wobbled atop her neck.

“I’ll take that, honey,” another woman murmured in Sam’s ear. She felt the casebook removed from her heavy fingers.

“That’s it,” Mackenzie purred. “You want to sleep, Sam. Close your eyes, and fall into a deep, deep sleep, Sam. Let go. Surrender, Sam. Relax…”

“I can’t…” Sam instinctively thought. But it was too late. Her body and mind were now under a powerful enchantment, and she could not disobey. Her heavy lids closed. She was aware of Mackenzie’s gentle hand resting against her face.

Mackenzie’s voice floated in the center of Sam’s mind. It was sweet and all-powerful. Wonderful, Sam, it said, delighted. Now go deeper into relaxation. You want only to follow and obey the voices of your sisters. Relax and obey, Sam.

Yes, Sam, other women’s voices chimed in. Relax and obey us. You want to obey. You want to obey.

Very good, Sam, Mackenzie’s voice complimented, weaving between what the other women were saying. You want to obey. You will find that anytime me or one of your sisters holds your face like this, you will automatically want to relax and obey. Relax and obey…

Sam was helpless. She sighed once as her mind gave up her will and then her thoughts dissolved completely.

Adrift in perfect relaxation, Sam was only dimly aware of the other voices, commanding her and placing strong compulsions deep within her thoughts. At times, the entranced detective thought she heard Mackenzie’s voice; other times, she had no idea where her cousin was. At all moments, however, she was guided by the irresistible voices of her sisters.

It felt so good to dwell in this perfect tranquility, to surrender all control of her body and mind, to allow those loving female voices tell her how to think and what to do. Sam loved it all.

And then, she was aware that she was being roused. The world was fading back into existence. She was aware of her arms, then her legs, then her head. She could feel the moist night air on her skin.

“And now… awaken!” Mackenzie’s voice commanded.

Sam’s eyes fluttered open. She was beside the pool, as before. Mackenzie stood before her, with Noelani close by. All the other sisters hovered, expectantly watching her.

“How do you feel, cousin?” Mackenzie asked, a sweet smile on her lips.

Sam opened her mouth.

“Oh my God, you guys!” she blurted out. “Are we here to party, or what?”

As the other women cheered, Sam blushed. She felt like a giddy teenager.