By Verne Grange
Grownup novel from the sixties...
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So, expensive magazine, my access for day after today could be either long and interesting... FROM THE document OF THE precise INVESTIGATIVE COMMITTEE ... it's now obvious that the feminine attendants, the younger ladies often called “Vestal Virgins” have been subjected to a few kind of brainwashing by means of the lady calling herself Andromeda. the item of this brainwashing or conditioning being not just to safe absolute obedience, yet to make the stated ladies willing—in truth eager—to perform extraordinary if now not unnatural sexual acts... Andromeda... it's been an hard week, and in basic terms the company and unshakable conviction that what i'm doing, what i have to do, is correct has sustained me. 5 days in the past I chosen the ultimate Vestal Virgins, a full-bodied brunette named Laura and a slim yet well-contoured blonde known as Iris. either women have simply became twenty-one; neither woman is easily endowed with brains, yet this can be of no consequence—it is their our bodies I and my congregation shall utilize. If something, the shortcoming of marked intelligence makes a lot more straightforward the duty of conditioning the ladies for the tasks they need to practice. As with the former ten ladies, I interviewed the ladies individually, facing the brunette, Laura, first. by the point I led her to my internal workplace the wine I had served her—containing scopolamine 34-D and ETX-40—had all started to take impression: she was once already in a near-hypnotic, hugely suggestive trancelike country. I seated her within the deep leather-based chair throughout from my table and he or she settled again, fairly oblivious of the truth that her head was once resting simply over a speaker hid behind the chair, from which hypnotically pulsating notes slightly below the edge of consciously heard sound have been emanating, and both oblivious that the wall gentle whose rays shone at once into her eyes used to be pulsing in concord. whereas I puzzled her, conversing in a quiet, soothing voice, i'll see the trance deepening. inside a couple of minutes she had misplaced just about all her awake will energy, just about all of her skill to—or hope to—resist such feedback as I gave her. I prompt that it used to be hot within the room, and that it'd be most sensible if she disrobed. She nodded, rose, and commenced to undress like an automaton. In a number of moments she was once thoroughly nude. I studied her physique with interest—not, in fact, simply because I felt carnal hope for her, yet simply because i wanted to make sure that she could turn out an appropriate software to serve Eros. Her physique may certainly serve, i made a decision. Her flesh was once very white, nearly alabaster, and flawless—so soft it used to be nearly glossy. Her breasts have been fairly huge yet surprisingly enterprise and taut fleshed, with out hint of any sag which would decrease a man's wish. Her nipples have been a deep, tawny pink and prominent—when totally erect they'd resemble miniature phalli i used to be definite. Her waist used to be narrow, her hips vast, her thighs ripe with no being heavy, her buttocks softly rounded and fashionable; she could serve Eros good. whereas i used to be learning her physique seriously I persevered to question her, inquiring rather approximately her sexual adventure.