Nusquam

by Chris Bellows

  It was only then that the exhausted client... physically, mentally and emotionally spent... was released from the stocks.

  Collared and leashed, Kelly’s eidetic mind pictures her hand leading the girl crawling to the kitchen, supervising as she was fed some foul concoction indecorously slathered into a large dog bowl.

  Ah, such stultifying degradation, Kelly mulls... but such welcomed degradation.

  Her thoughts move to the brief reference to Nusquam. Remaining under contract, Kelly still receives a limited monthly stipend from the curious organization, ostensibly for consulting. Yet in the many months since she departed, there has been no consultation. She has become convinced that the funds are to ensure her continuing silence, a very short but significant contract paragraph emphasizing confidentiality... and that violating such not only ends the arrangement but gives rise to the return of all paid emoluments as well.

  Thus her reluctance to elaborate and her brief response to Pattie’s query. Nusquam is truly not something she can talk about.

  Still, David’s succinct advice is to be given consideration. Would Nusquam indeed be good for the heiress Patricia LaMange?

  The girl subjects herself to the whim of sadists. And she truly enjoys... the thrill of submission not to be denied with her love nest dripping in lust. And she is to spend her nights well bound, not only restrained but held absolutely motionless by the many Segufix straps drawn and locked to implausible tightness.

  And to think such can be reversed... so simply reversed... with the clever magnetic device... for Pattie always in sight... and always out of reach. Ah such mental frustration to enhance the physical!

  Whom will release her... and when? And then what evil antics will be undertaken... no doubt more narcotic for the addiction of masochism.

  Perhaps David has a point. Not all are considerate. Not all are expert in bondage and corporal punishment and the subtle yet mandatory safety requirements and responsibilities which come with the role. Who visits the bedroom turned dungeon of Patricia LaMange? And where does the young but ardent masochist find them... contact them? Complete strangers? There is sure to be a mishap. Would a sojourn to Nusquam divert pending harm? With Pattie’s fervor, her dive into the abyss of sadomasochism will surely give rise to haplessness... probably worse.

  Kelly has the phone number, the Director of Nusquam. Should she call? Recommend the wealthy heiress as a Nusquam prospect? In order to discuss the Nusquam protocol, describe to Pattie LaMange the details of the bizarre and exotic facility, inform her, perhaps more aptly phrased as convincing her of the merits, she will need to be reprieved of the confidentiality clause in her contract.

  The subject matter will need to be carefully broached, concerns that the clause has already been violated not to arise. But then again she has not. It was David that planted the seed.

  Kelly has the little used number in her cell phone. Within moments the car’s blue tooth connection rings the administrative office of Nusquam. Though well into the evening, Kelly knows of the quirky hours, members and guests to be served 24/7.

  “How may I be of service?” the humble but suggestive salutation always bringing a smile.

  “Kelly Devers for the Director.”

  “Good evening, Miss Devers, I’ve so much missed you. I will put you right through.”

  The soft high pitched voice brings not recognition. It seems impolite not recalling a name, perhaps Kelly’s silent reaction considered somewhat aloof. But there were so many... so many to be cared for and nursed.

  Before Kelly can strain with a reply, a ring indicates she has been immediately transferred.

  “Kelly, long time no speak. Enjoying your retirement?”

  At age thirty-five, Kelly knows the Director jibes, remaining somewhat offended by her resignation. And the perceived offense amplified when an offer of more money failed to change her mind.

  “I’ve been building my practice, Director. Aftercare for dilettantes... those who occasionally place a toe into the hot water of D/s.”

  “Many burned digits, I’m sure Kelly. And with your experience with branded flesh, I’m sure your expertise with burns is well appreciated. What prompts your call?”

  “I have a client who... well... has immersed more than a toe. She’s dived in... and I am concerned. Quit her job and offers herself daily. And possibly not overly discerning to whom.”

  “Goodness. Seems reckless. You’ve talked to her about Nusquam?”

  Kelly immediately sniffs a trap, the Director clumsily attempting to gain an unwitting confession... a violation of her consulting agreement.

  “I have not. The girl brought it up. Told her I could not talk about it.”

  “And how is it she is aware of us?”

  “David Lapierre. He offers her a weekly caning... and more,” Kelly’s sense of etiquette obviating disclosure concerning the condition of the Pattie LaMange’s ravished rectum.

  “Yes, David will keep you busy, Kelly. He has his peccadillos, doesn’t he?” the Director rejoins with a snort. “But he should not be disclosing anything about our little enclave. He’ll have his membership suspended.”

  “Nothing more than the name... the girl new nothing more than that I would be a potential source of information... which I have not been.”

  “Good. We need to protect our privacy. I’ll speak to David on his next visit. Remind him of our congregational vows.”

  “Of course, Director. But... well... the girl may in fact be a prospect. She’s young... well shaped... generous breasts... buttocks that indeed invite correcting rattan... and rather pretty... until I shaved her head this evening. You know how much the degradation seems to thrill them... complete hairlessness.”

  “Yes, of course. And you would agree with my initial reaction?.. reckless?”

  “Yes, I am concerned. David handles her well, taking the girl to her limits and not beyond. A perfect caning this afternoon. Evenly spaced... not a stroke crossing... no broken skin... and yet I imagine excruciating... and oddly welcomed. But there are others... that I do not know... unaware of their ultimate intentions. And what’s worse the girl is equally unaware... naive. She seeks in... in... well... in curious desperation.”

  “And you say she quit her job? How is it she can support this... this praxis?”

  “A recent inheritance. Apparently large enough to both support herself and indulge deeply. Transformed a second bedroom into part dungeon part medical clinic. When it comes to tormenting the flesh, there’s not much lacking in terms of devices, supplies and equipment. To my knowledge she has not been made to ride her horse. But she has installed one... a plank most scabrous inviting the soft pink of her neglected cunny.”

  “Ahh... the horse. Slow, cruel and fascinating that she finds appeal. Well... send me measurements... and photos. You know the mandated poses. If she’s found to be adequate, and I’m sure she will be, you can offer the girl an overview of Nusquam. And make sure you make her aware of the protocol... that our novitiates succumb... totally... and from the real world disappear... never to return.”

  “Of course, Director. I can have measurements and photos for you tomorrow. The girl has engaged me to visit daily.”

  “I see. Well, if she can so often afford your fine care it must be an impressive inheritance, Kelly. That will mean quite the commission for you. Twenty percent... your retirement nest will be even more tidy. Do remind the girl... if she chooses to walk our path... she will leave all funds... all assets behind. There are no free riders here at Nusquam.”

  “Yes, I will make her aware. Was that Robert answering your phone?” Kelly finally pairing a name with the soft high pitched voice. “His voice has changed.”

  “I have denied him his hormones. I want him feminized. I think he serves better.”

  “Yes, I suppose some do.”

  As Kelly turns off the highway, the phone clicks, the Director abrupt as always. She considers. In thinking of the heiress Patricia LaMange and Nusquam, Kelly recal
ls her years of service there. Is she doing the right thing? Servitude at Nusquam begins as voluntary, but then?

  For Kelly Devers it was a high paying job, offering her expertise and many years of medical experience to ensure the health and relative well being of the many masochists. Those who make the one time irreversible and irrevocable decision to offer themselves for the joy and pleasure of the sadist members of the secretive... highly secretive... organization.

  Yes, it was just a job, Kelly Devers constantly convinces herself whenever reminiscing, recalling the many shackled, branded, pierced and chronically excoriated and whipped naked forms. Yet, deep within, beneath her facade of professional caregiver, she enjoyed as well. Within months of departing, Kelly found herself deviating from her intension of establishing a vanilla visiting nurse service, instead once again tending to the many Patty LaManges... those wounded by their own demented psyches.

  Well, as the Director urged, Kelly will be very forthright in describing servitude at Nusquam. That there is no turning back, no changing of the minds for those selected to serve. She envisions Douglas, apparently anointed as the Administrator’s personal servant, and smiles in once again hearing the metallic pings as left gonad then right plunked into the waiting surgical basin.

  ‘All gone’, Kelly pleasantly sang, mother to helpless toddler, as she sutured closed his plundered scrotal sac. Curious how respectful he has always been to her... considering. And he truly has missed her... both her and his testicles.

  Yes, there is no going back in becoming a Nusquam plaything.

  Chapter Five

  Kelly parks in the expensive Upper Eastside garage, checks her medical bag to ensure there is a measuring tape then grasps her digital camera. The swanky apartment of Patricia LaMange is across the street and she scurries, always finding herself a little behind schedule, the demands for her care and service endless.

  The doorman wordlessly offers entry with a nod. He no longer inquires about Miss LaMange’s health. Still he is perplexed, his wealthy tenant receiving a variety of visitors daily and is herself rarely seen. But a monthly envelope stuffed with cash has ameliorated his curiosity. Kelly knows, she has twice delivered such at the behest of her well bound client, helplessly staring at her bedroom ceiling, the Segufix head restraint system obviating the slightest motion.

  As the elevator whisks to the 30th floor penthouse, Kelly reaches for her key, wondering what she will encounter. Her daily visit... soothing clamped tender flesh, tending to wounds, massaging limbs long held in bondage, bathing as one would an infant... always begins with a surprise. To what torments has Pattie been forced to endure?.. forced by her own sick libido.

  Yes the girl orgasms with noted gusto after submitting to the whims of a visiting sadist.

  Kelly slips in the key and turns, the door yielding. She is greeted with the sound of a moan, low and long, emanating from the spare bedroom turned dungeon. She smiles, knowing that Pattie has once again indulged, her addiction demanding she regularly capitulate.

  To the bedroom door, Kelly twists the doorknob and pushes, the hallway light illuminating the pitch blackness within, the room’s large picture window long ago boarded over.

  As Kelly flips the light switch, there come a more earnest moan.

  “Oh, Pattie, whatever have you been up to? Self bondage?”

  Kelly first smiles with the sight then steps forth with concern. The afternoon visitor of masochist Pattie LaMange left her perched on the wicked horse, the leg muscles... thighs and calves... shaking convulsively, straining to protect the tender pink flesh of her mons from the most scabrous plank she is forced to straddle. A spreader bar, left ankle to right, forces apart her feet, clenched thighs not to offer relief.

  Arms pulled behind, her tethered wrists are held high, mandating that the girl bend forward at the waist. She is gagged. Judging from the desperate attempts to swallow, Kelly has no doubt a penis gag is inserted deeply into her throat. And heightening the slow dull agony of exhaustion are teethed alligator nipple clamps with slim chains dangling beneath.

  Pattie’s mammary glands, in being of size, always seem to attract attention. And Kelly quickly realizes that to the chains have been added weights... someone entertaining themselves by slowly and methodically adding to the breasts’ burden, no doubt taunting as the tender flesh endured ounce after ounce of added metal.

  “Well, well, Pattie. You’ve had a long afternoon,” Kelly first sarcastically teases.

  Then, as she puts aside her medical bag, Kelly realizes how dangerous is the game playing out.

  What if she had failed to make this appointment? Car trouble... traffic... sudden illness... there are any number of things that could have happened that would leave Pattie in unending pain and potential long term damage to where a girl needs not to be damaged.

  “Let’s get you off your toes first.”

  Kelly is all too familiar with the mechanics of the horse. The upturned plank is connected to the wall by a hinge, its height easily raised or lowered, and held in place by an adjustable cord. The tending sadist thus selects in what mode and manner a girl will suffer, the higher the board the more the gruff edge abrades the tender cunt flesh and the more a girl must struggle on toes to protect herself from pain and harm.

  Thus it is a simply matter to loosen the cord and in turn lower the board, bringing instant relief to muscles too long strained.

  Kelly smiles in hearing the sigh as the girl’s bare feet find the floor, relieving legs about to succumb. Then she very carefully, one by one, removes the many metal disks from the dangling chains, each one slight but collectively bringing unbearable suffering.

  Burden relieved, Kelly returns to her medical bag, a tube of special cream to extinguish nipples afire. She intentionally leaves in place the stifling penis gag, the expected cry of agony to be suppressed.

  “Take a deep breath,” she forewarns, pinching open the left alligator clamp.

  There comes a rush of air, followed by an attempt to scream, the gag veiling any vocal clamor which would alert the neighbors.

  Though the suffering intense, Kelly knows the girl’s addiction brings the bizarre joy of masochism, for her nose detects the fragrance of a quim sopping with juices of lust. As her fingers apply soothing cream, suffused with lidocaine, she glances down to the lowered edge of the tormenting plank. It is wet, the viscous vaginal fluid evidencing that the girl’s ordeal has not been entirely objectionable.

  “My, my Pattie, you have really enjoyed your afternoon. But perhaps it’s been too long an afternoon.”

  The right nipple clamp follows, another attempted scream, more lidocaine applied.

  “I’ll want you to crawl for me... to the bathroom. A nice hot bath and then I’ll also want some photos and take some measurements. If you’re a good girl for me I will masturbate you before binding you for the evening.”

  With her words, Kelly’s right hand lowers, her finger tips diddling a chafed yet well exposed mons, the spreader bar dictating a pose of both humiliation and vulnerability.

  Is that a smile Kelly detects?

  Chapter Six

  Once again Kelly ruminates during the drive home. Pattie LaMange was quite obedient, as expected, despite her apprehension about being photographed completely nude and made to pose most explicitly for the camera. For the Director, the spread shots will be telling, Pattie’s inner labia nearly crimson with the rush of sexual delight brought by such forced exhibitionism, her vagina glistening with feminine juices.

  What is it that so thrills the likes of Pattie LaMange... thoughts of Kelly’s masturbating fingers? Exposing herself and her most intimate anatomy through the camera lens to unknown eyes? Being weighed and measured as would a piece of beef?

  Then Kelly’s thoughts divert to the danger. Another hour or two on the horse and Pattie’s exhausted legs would surely have succumbed to the excruciating agony of having her most delicate feminine parts pressed by her full weight against the unyielding and gruff plank of th
e horse. Without timely relief, damage would follow, resulting perhaps in a lifetime of having to utilize catheters to pee.

  There is also the peril of orthostatic syncope which, if not countered, can lead to death. If Pattie’s long ordeal resulted in fainting, not uncommon when the body is long held upright, her circulation system would ultimately shut down if not relieved.

  The visiting sadist, real name unknown to Pattie, was sloppy in that regard. No doubt she will not be returning and knew such when she began her afternoon of amusing torment.

  Where does her demented client find them? And on this occasion submitting to a woman!

  Yes, Kelly becomes convinced that, putting aside her sizable commission, Nusquam will be best for Pattie LaMange. No subjugant was ever in mortal danger or seriously injured there during her tenure at the discrete enclave. Conversely, she recalls the first rate medical facility, the many hours of nursing care offered, the exacting diet... tasteless yet balanced... the nutrition levels measured with scientific precision to compensate for the demanded exertion, desired shapeliness, and role to be fulfilled by the subjugant.

  Pattie will live out her days in masochistic bliss... owning nothing... being nothing... real name known to no one... a non entity in the vanilla world... having no obligations other than to serve... obediently serve. She will be bathed, groomed, fed, exercised, shaped, have not a care... and be masturbated... perhaps masturbated. There are those that are held in endless chastity when such is deemed best. But with Pattie’s ability to squirt, she will certainly be put on display from time to time... her cunny made to perform as a source of obscene entertainment.