The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I’d been running an independent charter bus company for five years. I had just the one bus and I drove it myself. I liked the work; it afforded me a lot of independence and gave me a chance to meet people.

One day I was contact by a private firm, Signals Inc., and asked to bid on a multi-state one way trip. My fees are low, which was probably why they accepted my bid and called me to make the arrangements. “You’ll be expected to sign a non-disclosure agreement with a financial penalty,” said the woman. I’d never had to do that before but I told her it wasn’t a problem. She gave me the address and told me to be there at 6 am the following morning to pick up fifty passengers traveling to Denver.

As a woman working in a blue-collar profession, maintaining respect was important to me, so I always wore a crisp clean bus driver’s uniform and a cap covering my close-cropped blonde hair. This was the hot season, so I picked a short sleeve shirt and shorts; I’m an avid runner and weight lifter and don’t mind showing off my arms and legs. Checking myself out in the mirror, I thought I had the right combination of attractiveness and no-nonsense spunk.

The address for Signals Inc. was a remote compound on the outskirts of Los Angeles. When I arrived early the next morning, a uniformed woman let me past the gate. I drove a quarter mile on a gravel road to a one-story building. In the lot behind the building a ramp led down to an underground garage. The garage door opened and a blonde in coveralls walked up and motioned for me to drive in. I steered the bus down and she guided me to park next to a freight elevator.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” she asked when I got off the bus.

“Jennifer,” I said.

“I’m Ruth. OK let’s go over this. We’ve got three depots on this info sheet where you can stop along the way. No other stops except for gas and your own needs, understood?”

“Got it,” I said, examining the sheet. “These will take me a couple hours out of my way.”

“No problem as long as the shipment gets there by midnight; and there’ll be a bonus waiting for you if you’re on time.” I nodded. She made a call on her cell phone. “OK, bring ’em down.”

“Give me your cell phone a minute, Jennifer,” she said. I handed it to her. “I’m going to put our app on here. You’ll need it.”

The freight elevator arrived. The door opened and I saw it was crowded with young women. In front were uniformed security guards carrying rifles; they stepped out and moved to the sides. The remaining girls were all dressed in identical grey bikinis and grey rubber sandals. The guards stood vigilance while the bikini-clad girls paraded out between them and lined up next to the bus.

The girls were all young, athletic and good looking. Each girl wore an identical set of eyeglasses with black frames.

The security guards took the elevator back up and returned with another collection of girls who, like the others, all wore identical bikinis and eyeglasses. They lined up. I did a quick count. Fifty girls.

Ruth handed me back my phone. “Let’s start the boarding process, shall we? On your new app there’s a list of commands you can issue to all fifty girls. Just find the right command and tap it.”

“’Load onto the bus?’ Is that the one?”

“Yep.”

I tapped, and immediately the girls started moving. They queued up at the bus door, quietly climbed in and found their seats.

“What are they, robots?” I asked.

“They’re normal, intelligent girls, but they’ve been trained to obey. The commands come to them through their glasses. They also respond to verbal commands, but this is more precise.”

I signed the transportation agreement, including the nondisclosure form. I was pretty sure there was something illegal going on here, but the agreement would keep me from blabbing to the cops.

Ruth handed me a box. “Make sure none of the girls lose their glasses. Here are extras in case the batteries run down. They automatically switch on when worn.” She took a rifle from one of the security guards and handed it to me. “This might come in handy. Don’t worry, it’s loaded with tranquilizer darts.” She laughed. “All of these girls have needed to be shot one time or another.”

I sighted down the barrel of the rifle. It was a quality model. I’d done target shooting in high school and knew my way around firearms.

I shook hands with Ruth, boarded my vehicle, and maneuvered out of the parking garage.

Several miles from the compound, to satisy my curiosity, I pulled the bus into an empty parking lot and stopped to examine my cargo. Almost every seat was occupied. The girls sat passively in their bikinis, staring straight ahead. I walked the aisle, giving them a good looking over. They had marvelous, delicate physiques. Their complexions were rich and unblemished, their hair glossy and well kept. They had a delicious smell to them. I squatted down and gazed into the faces of several girls. They had lovely eyes with long dark lashes, and the glasses they wore were quite becoming.

All the girls had buckled their seat belts. A few window shades were up. I reached over and pulled them down. These girls wouldn’t be interested in watching the scenery.

I made good time on Route 15, reached Barstow around 10 am and took the exit for 40 East. That detour was going to cost me three hours of driving time, but it was necessary to hit the three depots the client required. I didn’t mind the arrangement, of course. Trying to stop at a tourist rest area with fifty bikini-clad girls would attract an enormous amount of unwanted attention.

In Needles, I pulled in at a Sunoco to gas up and relieve my bladder. As I got out I padlocked the cab door, something I would never do to ordinary passengers. These girls were my prisoners, I thought. I might as well accept the fact.

When I returned to the cab, I set the GPS for the first of the depot locations. It was on the outskirts of Kingman, Arizona. I jacked up the AC so my passengers wouldn’t suffocate in the heat. I kept the bus right at the speed limit, cognizant of how easily a traffic ticket could escalate into an indictment on fifty counts of kidnapping. Of course nobody was under restraint, nobody was crying for help, so I could probably talk my way out of it should it come to that.

Five miles before Kingman I took an exit. I passed several large hotels, then came to my destination, the Surf’s Up Resort. I parked the bus, got out and looked around. It was a large waterpark hotel with a big yellow slide twisting around the pool. Customers were everywhere, the majority of them in swim suits.

I opened up the phone app, found “get off of the bus,” on the list of commands and tapped it. The girls undid their seat belts, file off of the bus and line up. In the noon sun they looked even more gorgeous than when I’d first laid eyes on them.

A black girl came over. She had supermodel good looks and shapely legs; the hotel insignia was printed on her one piece swimsuit. Flashing me a killer smile, she said “Good morning. I’m Freddie, the day manager. ”

“Good morning,” I replied. “We just need these girls freshened up and fed, then we’ll be on our way.”

“Ok, I’ll take over from here.” She lifted her phone, which had the same app open that they had given me. She selected a menu item, and the phone began flashing a beacon. She waved the phone in the air and it got all the girls to turn towards her. “Come with me, ladies,” she said, laughing. She walked away towards the hotel and the whole group of girls followed her.

I had to admit the setup was clever. My passengers wouldn’t stand out very much in this place. I watched a tall redhead in a tiny green bikini crossing the parking lot. She was somewhat older, but equally shapely and gorgeous. What would it take, really? Drop her with a tranquilizer dart, then put a set of glasses on her? Surely it wasn’t that simple.

I took a pair of glasses from the box and examined them. They looked no different than a conventional set of specs, only slightly heavier. I lifted them to eye level. The lenses were completely clear and undistorted. I set the glasses to rest on the bridge of my nose. Suddenly I was blinded by green and orange flashes. I reflexively jerked forward. The glasses fell in my lap and the flashing lights disappeared. Shaken, I carefully put the glasses back in the box.

Twenty minutes later, Freddie paraded my girls back to the bus. She walked behind them, playfully swatting the behinds of the trailing girls with a stick. When the group got to the bus she announced, “I need some kisses, girls.” The girls obediently gathered around her and she exchanged hugs and kisses with several of them.

I took over and loaded the bikini-clad young women on the bus. “What do I owe you?” I asked Freddie.

“You’re good. We bill your employer.” She smiled knowingly at me, like we were sharing an exquisite secret joke. I stepped forward and exchanged a hug and a kiss with Freddie, who I’d grown quite fond of. She held onto me a moment and said, “You should come back some time when you’re off duty!” I smiled at that.

I climbed aboard, walked the aisle to make sure all the girls’ seat belts were buckled. Then I got situated behind the wheel and took off.

The drive through Flagstaff was uneventful. I stopped for gas at a rest stop in Winona. I parked the bus, padlocked the door and went in for a restroom break and takeout.

When I returned to the bus I heard a pounding on the windows. I came around the side and saw a toddler looking up at the bus. A panic-stricken brunette had pulled one of the shades up. She was rapping on the window and shouting. With the windows closed it was muffled, but she was saying “Get me out of here!” She was not wearing her glasses.

I nodded and held up my hand, and that seemed to placate the brunette for the moment. I shooed the toddler away from the bus and sent her back towards her inattentive parents. I unlocked the padlock of the cab door, climbed into the bus and pulled the door shut.

The brunette stood in the aisle, stunningly beautiful in her grey bikini. She rushed towards me, shouting “What’s going on? How did I get here?” She tried to squeeze past me, but I took hold of her luscious young body and pushed her back down the aisle. Even though she was taller than me, I was a lot stronger.

I fetched the dart rifle from next to the driver’s seat. When I turned, the brunette was shaking the shoulders of the other girls. “Help me, please! What’s wrong with you?”

I poked the brunette with the muzzle of the rifle. She looked at me and froze. “Stop talking,” I said. “Kneel down.”

She did what I said. “Good girl. Now lie down on your back.” She recoiled and let out a sob. I lifted the rifle, thinking I would have to shoot her. She threw up her hands and started crying. Then she slowly got down and lay on her back, thoroughly cowed and intimidated. I stood over her and pointed the rifle. “Be quiet,” I said.

I set aside the rifle and picked up the box of spare glasses next to the driver’s seat. I straddled the brunette and sat on her stomach. I pinned her lovely arms between my knees and she was quite helpless. She looked up at me, trembling. Her large breasts rose and fell under her bikini top. I took a pair of glasses from the box. She recognized them and her eyes widened. “No, no, no...” she pleaded as I opened the glasses and turned them towards her. She uttered a forlorn sob as I slowly lowered the glasses onto her face. She shuddered once as I dropped the specs on the bridge of her nose, then her head rolled limply to the side.

I got up and went to the front of the bus to check out the windows. Fortunately I hadn’t attracted any more attention. I opened the phone and flipped through the menu items on the command app. I found “Command by voice,” which Freddie must have used. I went back to the girl, tapped the menu item, and when the beacon flashed I waved it in front of her face. “Stand,” I said. She got up and stood at attention. Her gorgeous body was no worse for wear. There was a vacant, lost expression on her beautiful young face. A single tear rolled down her pale cheek.

I commanded her back to her seat and got her in and belted up. I pulled her window shade down again. I searched the floor for the glasses she’d originally been wearing, and reached between the smooth legs of some pretty girls to collect them. The battery must have gone dead on this pair. I tagged them with a piece of tape from the glove compartment and put them in the box with the others.

I suddenly realized that i didn’t have my carryout lunch; I’d dropped it on the pavement when the commotion started. I went out and retrieved it. Some of the coffee had spilled but the lunch was still edible.

At 4pm I took an exit near Gallup and drove five miles to the next depot, the Lolly Gag Ranch, a medium-size dairy farm set back half a mile from the main road. As the bus approached the stables it attracted the attention of a trio of cowgirls who walked over to meet us, a pair of trained collies following behind.

I got out and introduced myself. “I’m Doris, and this is Audrey and Zelda,” said the glamorous blonde cowgirl, indicating her equally attractive colleagues. The three heavily-tanned women were in their early thirties. They wore matching outfits with flannel short-sleeved shirts tied up to expose their waists, denim shorts, boots and cowboy hats. Each of them carried a coiled whip on her belt.

“I take it you have some animals that need watered and fed,” said Doris. I told her I did, and tapped the menu selection on the phone. My bikini-wearing passengers filed off of the bus and lined up. “Be a dear and select ‘Herd behavior’ from the menu, will you?” asked Doris. I found it on the list and tapped it. The girls responded by breaking rank and ambling about slowly.

Audrey whistled, and the two collies raced a circle around the girls, snarling and barking. The nearly-naked young women closed in as a group to get away from the dogs. Audrey and Zelda walked together behind the girls, driving them towards the farmhouse with shouts and by cracking their whips.

“We like to maintain control our own way,” explained Doris. “Would you care for a tour while your livestock is being attended to?” I told her I would love it, and we started walking.

Doris proudly explained that the ranch currently housed thirty head but had the capacity for seventy-five. As we approached the stables, I heard a steady murmur, and an occasional cry for help. We examined a dozen stalls occupied by naked young women. Some of them groveled in the hay, weeping; others just sat in the corner staring into space. All of the girls were healthy, clean and beautiful.

“We’re primarily a dairy ranch. We hand-milk all the animals. It’s more personal and intimate. Being handled and touched, skin-to-skin contact, helps train a naked woman to be more obedient.” She made a clicking sound to one of the forlorn creatures in the stalls. The girl stood up and walked over to us. She kept her sad, beautiful eyes averted as Doris stroked her shoulders and cupped her firm large breasts. “Would you like to taste her?” asked Doris. I politely declined.

“Our stock are all virgins, and usually they can’t secrete milk when we take ownership. We’ve developed some ingenious techniques to induce lactation. Let me show you.”

We came to a stall where a lovely naked brunette was bound up and suspended from the ceiling in a complicated swing arrangement. The girl couldn’t have been older than eighteen, and she was strikingly beautiful and unblemished, with long legs, a narrow waist and large breasts. Her torso was positioned belly down, four feet above the ground. Her ankles and wrists were pulled up behind her. A rope was tied to her hair, pulling her head back to display her lovely face.

“This is Cynthia,” said Doris. “Isn’t she pretty? She was taken from a beach resort just over a month ago. We gave her to Esther to be broken and trained.”

Esther, a lean, darkly tanned ranch hand in her forties, sat on a high stool beside Cynthia, rocking and spinning the helpless girl and stroking her nakedness, so that Cynthia was forced to constantly fidget and thrash about, her large breasts swinging from side to side. Esther tugged on ropes to make the girl arch her back and spread her thighs. The older woman focused very seriously on manipulating the naked teenager like a string puppet. From the girl’s labored breathing and unhappy expression, I gathered it was not a pleasant experience for her.

“Suspending a woman in this way induces blood flow to her breasts, without the bruising and physical effort involved in traditional breast massage,” explained Doris. “After a few weeks in the swing, robust lactation will commence. Then Esther will be able to milk Cynthia every day for the rest of Cynthia’s life.”

Esther gently pinched Cynthia’s left nipple and smiled at the progress the young woman was making.

We moved on to other, larger stalls. “What we really get excited about around here is our competitive line,” said Doris. “No expense is spared on these critters, and they get nonstop pampering day and night. I’m going to introduce you to my favorite, Apricot!”

We stood next to a deluxe stall occupied by a young redhead. She stood up when she heard her name and smiled. The young woman was completely nude, quite tall and statuesque, and her legs were especially shapely. Apricot’s head was shaved on the sides, with a mohawk of beautiful tawny locks up top. She had a large shiny ring through her nose.

She posed, legs together, shoulders back, proudly displaying her magnificent breasts. Her arms were bent at the elbows, her wrists bent and hands pointed down, like a child imitating an animal. Doris made a clicking sound, and Apricot pranced over to us, raising her legs high and bending her knees in an exaggerated gate that she executed perfectly. Doris stretched out a hand and Apricot lovingly rubbed her cheek against it.

“She’s a former prom queen and valedictorian. We acquired her as part of a land deal. I personally broke her the day she arrived at the ranch, and I’ve taken full charge of her training ever since. As you can see, she’s become quite devoted to me.” Doris took a sugar cube from her pocket and held it cupped in her hand. Apricot ate from Doris’s hand fetchingly.

“Apricot strut!” commanded Doris. The pretty redhead turned and marched across the pen, proudly lifting her legs above her waist and pointing her lovely round knees at the ceiling. She glanced over her shoulder, delighted to be showing off for us.

“How is it that a valedictorian could adjust so well to being turned into a show animal?” I asked.

“The simple answer is that she didn’t have a choice. As her trainer, I controlled the stimulus, and her body responded in a predictable way. When a woman falls into my hands, there’s nothing she can do to escape her fate. But I will say this—an intelligent animal is much easier to train than a dull animal. Intelligent girls are more attractive. They move differently, their expressions are more complex, and they are generally more healthy and produce better milk. The ranch always strives to acquire the straight A students, not the bimbos.”

She made a clicking sound to Apricot. The beautiful former valedictorian pranced back towards us with a radiant smile. Doris stroked the creature’s tawny mane. “After all these months of training I don’t think she could walk normally if she tried!” Doris laughed. “Such a sweet girl. I still milk her nearly every day, by the way, and she’s wonderfully obedient in the bedroom as well.”

As we returned, the bikini-clad girls were being herded back to the bus by Audrey, Zelda and the two collies. I gathered that one of the girls wasn’t moving fast enough for Zelda, so the cowgirl had picked her up and slung her over her shoulder. When they got to the bus she deposited the girl on the ground, and the two cowgirls browsed among the herd, turning several girls around, lifting their legs, making them bend over for playful spankings. Then they waved goodbye and headed back to the stables.

I inspected my passengers. They were a little shaken up but otherwise in good shape. I took control of them with my phone and loaded them onto the bus. I thanked Doris and we kissed goodbye. I was a bit skittish of letting this professional woman trainer get her hands on me. But when she let me go I was still a free woman. Her eyes were gleaming as she blew me a kiss goodbye.

In Albuquerque I exited Route 40 and got on 25. I stopped at another rest stop to gas up. This time I parked the bus far away from the other vehicles to avoid trouble. I locked the girls in, took a bathroom break and got some carryout. Ten minutes later we were on the road again. It was 9pm and the sun was setting. We had one more depot stop near Pueblo, and we’d get there after dark. I was tempted to skip it, but I wanted the girls to be in tip top shape for delivery.

I took an exit onto a lonely deserted highway. After a few miles I took a left on a gravel road; I’d never have spotted it without the GPS. I followed the twists and turns for half a mile until I finally came to an isolated farm house, dark except for a single lantern above the front door. I rolled the bus up on a patch of grass, parked and got out.

A tall young woman came out of the house, carrying a lantern. She walked over to a wheel barrow piled high with brown cloth. Hanging the lantern on the wheel barrow, she pushed it over to the bus.

The girl was dressed like someone from another century, with a black dress that went to her ankles, a long-sleeved blouse and a white bonnet. Her young face was pretty without the need for makeup, but her temperament not so sweet.

“I regret that you’ve come after dark,” she said. “It’s not safe here. Please, unload your chattel and let us get this business over with.”

I used the phone to summon the girls out of the bus. As they were lining up, the girl said, “We don’t allow them to shame us with their nudity. Please put these sackcloths over them at once.”

I took one of the rough cloth garments and unfolded it. It was open on the bottom and had a hole for the head to poke through on top. It had no sleeves or holes for the arms. A strange kind of garment, but they were easy to slip over the girls quickly and with minimal fuss. It only covered them to the tops of their legs, but apparently that was enough to satisfy our puritanical hosts.

“Command them to follow me. We have no time to waste.”

I flashed the beacon in front of the girls. “Follow this girl and obey her,” I said, pointing at the girl in the old-fashioned clothes. “Come,” said the girl. Holding the lantern high, she led them around to the back of the house.

I paced in front of the bus, waiting. How on Earth a place like this had become a stopover for slave girls, I could not imagine. From the front of the property there were no other signs of life. Did the puritanical girl live here alone?

Suddenly I saw movement in the trees, and a tall, pale woman stepped into the clearing a dozen yards away from the bus. She was beautiful, but with a sinister aspect. She was dressed in rags that barely covered her, and she was barefoot. She turned towards me and hissed. I got into the bus and closed the door, and the ragged harpy seemed to lose interest.

I watched her go around behind the house where the puritanical girl had led my passengers. This worried me. The girl had said that it wasn’t safe here.

I grabbed the rifle and got out of the bus. Suddenly from behind the house I heard a scream. I ran towards it.

In the back yard a small, ancient chapel stood. From within came the glow of candlelight. I peeked through the window. My young passengers were assembled in the nave for some kind of ceremony.

Suddenly I heard a hiss behind me. Another harpy dressed in rags was running towards me. I discharged the rifle and a dart went into her chest. She screamed and stopped in her tracks. She pulled the dart out, but was overcome by the tranquilizer and collapsed to the ground.

I turned back to the chapel and quietly entered through the door into the nave. A scene of horror awaited me, illuminated by candlelight.

Around the pulpit area, my fifty passengers stood waiting in a trance-like state. Surrounding them were slavering harpies who inspected their bikini-clad bodies with rapacious interest. A few of the girls were still wearing the sackcloth, and the harpies took great delight in plucking off the garments and cackling.

In the pews were several harpies whose attention was directed to the center and what was taking place there. Where once a pulpit stood, a long table was positioned. Laid out across the table was the struggling nude form of the young woman who earlier had taken charge of my passengers. A harpy was stationed at each end of the table, holding the girl by her ankles and wrists so that every beautiful naked curve of her body was revealed.

Behind the table another harpy clutched an ancient scroll and reciting in Latin from it. She paused to glance down at the struggling naked girl and licked hey lips. The girl let out a terrified scream, which only prompted the harpy to continue reading from the scroll.

I dodged into an alcove and took out my phone. I located a menu item I thought I’d never have to use—“Emergency return to bus.”

I turned to face the congregation. The lead harpy had just finished reading her invocation. She put the scroll aside. All eyes watched as she commenced to climb onto the table and straddle the naked girl, who was sobbing in despair.

My finger tapped the menu item, and everything happened at once.

In unison, the fifty girls turned away from the pulpet and started running to the exit. The harpies who stood in their way were trampled. In their hurry to exit, the girls knocked over the table in the center. The lead harpy went flying, and the captive girl rolled down into the center aisle. She got to her feet and fled down the aisle, evading the reaching hands of the other harpies. She sprinted out the door just as the last of my passengers had exited.

I stepped out of the alcove and grabbed a candelabra with twelve burning candles. I tossed it into the thick of the pursuing harpies. They scattered, swatting out sparks on their clothes. I fled through the door.

Outside I ran a hundred paces and turned. Harpies were just starting to emerge from the chapel. I shot darts into two of them. They recoiled from the hits and went down. The other harpies retreated into the chapel.

I turned and raced back to the bus. The girls were all in their seats and ready to travel. I started the engine and put it in gear. The bus skidded onto the gravel drive, the back tires ripping a deep trench in the grass. Some harpies tried to catch up as the bus picked up speed. The front bumpers knocked them aside.

A lone harpy dropped from the sky somehow and landed in front of the bus. I had no time to react and the bus plowed right through her. After that it was all hairpin turns on gravel road, and then we were on the main highway. I raced back to the Route 25 on-ramp and gratefully joined the freeway traffic.

Ten miles later I stopped at a truck stop to examine the exterior. There were no new dents that anyone was going to notice. I used a rag to wipe off some splashes of blood, and then we were as good as new.

I walked the aisle to count my passengers, and discovered that I had one extra—the blonde girl from the farm, still naked from her ordeal in the chapel. She sat quietly in the back row of the bus, and was reluctant to meet my eye. I noticed that she was actually quite shapely and attractive; farm life had been good to her. I reached out and fastened her seat belt on her, then returned to the cab and pulled out.

I didn’t stop again until we hit Denver. I exited the freeway and took surface roads for a few miles, turning around to keep my eye on the farm girl every time I had to stop at a red light. We came to the entrance for Signal Inc. headquarters, and I relaxed a bit when we’d passed through the security gate. It was 11:30 PM, well before the midnight deadline.

I pulled up to another large flat building. This time the parking garage was on the ground floor, and when the attendant opened the door I directed the bus in. A pretty redhead in coveralls directed me to park.

I grabbed the clipboard from the dash where I had all the paperwork, got out and showed it to the redhead. “Hi, I’m Emily,” she said. “You made it on time, I see. That means you’re entitled to a bonus. Quiet trip?”

“Not entirely. One girl’s glasses lost power and I had to give her a new pair. We had trouble at the Pueblo depot and had to leave in a hurry. And on the last leg of the journey we acquired a female stowaway.”

Her pretty eyes widened. “A stowaway? That’s a new one! Is she still...” She pointed her thumb at the bus. I nodded.

“Well, let me call security, and I think we’ll also need one of the staff nurses.” She got on her cell phone and punched a number. “We’ve got a live one,” she said. “I’m not kidding! She came in on one of the buses. That’s right. Okay.”

She hung up the phone. To me she said, “Hang tight, they’ll be here in five.”

In short order a pair of female guards entered the garage, a nurse in a white lab coat walking between them. They came over to us and the nurse said, “I understand you’ve acquired a fresh capture.”

“She’s in the bus,” said Emily, “sitting among the other girls.”

“Very well. Have the girls unload, and let’s see what she does.”

I tapped on the cell phone, and the bikini-clad girls unbuckled their seat belts and got off the bus and assembled in two rows of unrivaled loveliness. The naked girl from Pueblo was not among them.

The nurse nodded to the security guards. They boarded the bus and moved towards the back. A sudden scream was cut off abruptly. The guards climbed off the bus, restraining the tall naked blonde between them.

The nurse approached them and tore open a white package with an alcohol swab. The naked blonde thrashed about. “No!” she sobbed. “Leave me alone! Don’t touch me!” She wept as the nurse rubbed down her shoulder with the swab. The nurse produced a syringe from her lab coat and unsheathed the needle. The blonde shrieked when the nurse stuck her, but moments later she went limp. One of the guards slung the unconscious nude girl over her shoulder.

The group of them walked off with their new capture. The nurse smiled at us and said “Thanks!”

Emily took inventory of the bikini-clad girls. “What is this?” she asked. One of the young women was still wearing sackcloth. “It’s a long story,” I said. I walked over and removed it.

“It looks like they’re all here and are in excellent shape. I can discharge your payment immediately, and then we’ll talk about the bonus. Are you staying in town overnight, or do you have to get on to your next job?”

“I’ve got a hotel reservation for tonight, and I’m planning to see a little of the city tomorrow.”

“Excellent,” said Emily. “While I’m processing this, do me a favor and pick out your favorite girl.”

I was puzzled by the odd request, but I didn’t mind inspecting the livestock one last time. The girls were all beautiful, healthy and young, and it was not easy to choose between them. But just as in a chorus line or a beauty contest, some girls stood out from the others, and seemed especially sweet, vulnerable and innocent. Suddenly I came to a tall young girl with glossy black hair and a familiar face. I tapped on my phone and flashed the beacon in her face. “Come with me,” I said. I took her out of the line and led her to the front.

“This one’s my favorite,” I said to Emily.

“Oh, I agree with your tastes,” said Emily. She looked closely at the girl’s glasses and laughed. “Is she the one you had to give new glasses to?” I nodded. “So you have a little bit of unfinished business with this girl?”

“You could say that,” I admitted.

“That’s very amusing. So let me tell you about the bonus. Twenty-four hours with this girl. Or the cash equivalent, if you’d prefer.”

“I’ll take the girl,” I said.

“Excellent choice,” said Emily. “Give me ten minutes to get her freshened up for you, and you two can be on your way.” She took the girl by the arm. The girl turned to me, since she was at the moment under my control. I said, “Go with Emily.” Only then did the bikini-clad girl allowed herself to be led away by the pretty redhead in coveralls.

While I was waiting, I watched a crew of older women packing up the girls for short-term storage. They laid out canvas bags at the feet of the girls, and commanded each girl to step in. They lifted the canvas up over the girls shoulders and tied the drawstrings around the girls necks. There were drawstrings threaded through the canvas at waist level, and the crew tied these as well, giving the lovely packages an hourglass shape.

The crew carried the girls over to a specially designed wagon with a row of T-shaped armatures. They lifted each girl up and hung her from an armature, and left the girls swinging helplessly and glancing about without comprehension while the crew continued their work.

When thirty-six girls had been loaded on the wagon, the driver whisked them off to an unknown fate. The crew continued bagging the remaining girls.

Emily waved me over to her office and I joined her. “She’s ready. I’ll get her.”

She left me for a few minutes and returned, guiding my bonus girl. “She’s been showered, changed and combed,” said Emily. The girl was now attired in a tiny white bikini and matching high heels that transformed her girlish figure into mature sensual womanhood. Her slight teetering as she walked in the heels was a charming reminder that she was little more than a child. A white ribbon was tied around her neck and knotted next to her throat, making her look like a lovely gift waiting to be unwrapped. She still wore the black-framed eyeglasses I’d put on her earlier that day.

“Her name is Babette,” said Emily. “She’s been shown your picture and told to obey only you. She is your slave until you return her to us.”

“She’s trembling,” I said. “Does she know where she is and what’s happening to her?”

“Somewhere inside that pretty head of hers she knows. She seems a little afraid of you.”

I stroked Babette’s soft smooth shoulders and looked up into her eyes. “Don’t be frightened, pretty baby,” I said. “For the next twenty-four hours, you and I are going to be very close friends.”

She whispered, very quietly, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Come along, dear,” I said. I took her by the arm and led her out to the garage and over to my bus. I commanded her to board and followed her on. She took a seat in the front row next to me, and remembered to buckle her seat belt. I seated myself behind the wheel, buckled up and turned the ignition switch.

The engine made a low growl as I shifted into gear and steered out of the parking garage.