Nusquam

by Chris Bellows

  She puts aside further musings... she must put aside further musings. Desire... her desires... are now moot. She will drink what and when commanded... eat what and when commanded... urinate when commanded... defecate when commanded... sleep when commanded. She can only speculate on other demands... the dental work no doubt auguring fellatio.

  The monotony finally breaks with the opening of the door. The room illuminates. A woman enters. The ear pieces hiss.128 hears a voice... a woman’s voice. It is mature, yet timid, faltering. And when the woman finally steps into view, 128 is surprised.

  “45 is present, 128. Here for training,” a lisping voice greets.

  A hum and grunt must serve to greet as the molt gag obviates any verbal offering. Then 128 stares.

  45 appears to be in her forties, though in her bald nakedness age is difficult to determine. There is a stainless steel neck collar with matching bands of steel circling the wrists, ankles, thighs above the knees, biceps at the elbows. The woman is completely defoliated, mons, head and eyebrows. And in replicating 128’s bizarre look, the numerals 4 and 5 adorn her forehead... large and black.

  In the woman’s right hand is a squeezable plastic bottle. In the left a huge dildo, appearing soft and flexible, its color matching the bottle.

  “Your fellatio training is to begin. Having sucked off more stiffness than any other, 45 trains, the pump house avoided... for now,” the woman’s enunciation strained.

  As the naked form steps proximate, 128 notes the woman uses not pronouns, just as the voice has been so firmly been instructing. No ‘I’... no ‘me’. The woman is a number... as is 128.

  “128 will need to control the gag reflex first. Deep throating is mandatory here. Choking considered to be insulting. Water is to be taken, there is to be a pause, the liquid not to be swallowed until the command is given.”

  The bottle is positioned, directed at the yawning mouth of 128. Squeezed, there comes a slight but forceful squirt. The woman teasingly directs it about the inside of the mouth, tantalizing, deliberately attempting to trigger what is prohibited... swallowing, possibly choking. For 128 the drowning sensation returns as her mouth fills. She also tastes saltiness and realizes... thirst quenching pure fresh water may always be denied. It is Nusquam.

  In watching 128 struggle, the woman smiles. 128 is shocked to see that she is toothless, her fellatio training undoubtedly harsh... and thorough.

  The woman withdraws, putting aside the bottle, wickedly delaying the command to swallow. After a moment... too long... comes the welcomed word.

  “Swallow.”

  Simultaneous with the command, the woman reaches and grasps the altered and sore tongue. 128 sputters, salt water ingesting but also spilling.

  “Tsk, tsk. Sloppiness is forbidden here, 128. 128 will need to practice. But first a few inches of Fred, the training dildo.128 and Fred are going to become close friends over the ensuing days. 128 will come to take great comfort has he slides in and out, in and out, deeper and deeper. Some of the girls imagine him tickling their tummies...”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Initial fellatio training completed, the molt gag has been removed. 128 lies sensing relative nirvana, despite the bondage and dark loneliness. Her full bladder and itchy encapsulated nakedness seem to be inconveniences compared to the recent ordeals. She is cautiously cheered that such have ended.

  But a new concern brings rumination. In completing the training session, 128’s so termed new friend Fred repeatedly pressed to the back of her throat... and seemingly beyond... 45 turned to exit, revealing her bare buttocks. The flesh of her right cheek, at one time most shapely no doubt, is adorned with the letter ‘N’... large, the keloided skin a hideous crimson which brought noted prominence. The woman has been branded, 128 quickly realized in horror... like an animal... like something owned... like a slave.

  Hideously tattooed, will 128 be branded as well? The many steel bands readily announced the woman’s subjugant status, demanded bondage no doubt instant and thorough. To be marked as well... painfully and permanently!

  The ear pieces interrupt her thoughts.

  “Why is 128 here?”

  “128 is here to serve and please,” the words coming by rote, 128 now prepared to reply the instant the ear pieces hiss.

  “45 reports you have a strong aptitude for fellatio, 128. That 128 is going to be a good cock sucker.”

  “Thank you. I... 128 tries to please,” 128 catching herself.

  “128 will do more than try. A reward for progress.128 may urinate... upon command.”

  “Thank you. Thank you.”

  The words are followed a long pause... and disbelief... that the well educated, once wealthy Princess would thank a superior for being permitted to soil her herself. Though the excretions from the previous release have yet to fully dry, leaving her mummified form soaking in odorous irritating filth, her needs overwhelm. She will urinate and be grateful.

  Thus 128 prepares, pressing her stomach muscles, the vaginal insertion inhibiting normal flow. When permission finally comes... ‘128 may empty’... the delay seemingly interminable, she is ready. Quickly she senses the wet warmth which ironically comforts... initially... and finally lifts the burden of constant bladder pressure.

  “128 performs well. Obedience is demanded at Nusquam. Your nurse will visit... in time... and offer care.”

  “Thank you. May 128 drink... water? Fresh water?”

  “128 will drink what is demanded. Do not inquire again.”

  With the admonishment, 128 feels a slight electrical tingling within her vagina... a warning. She will indeed not inquire again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Once again the ear pieces announce pending activity. The room alights. Cheer returns... relative cheer. Then 128 catches her reflection in the ceiling mirror... the large black numerals of her tattoo. It disheartens.

  “A bath... and some exercise.”

  It is the nurse, her words stern yet bringing the heart to leap.

  Freedom!

  As the nurse steps forth, 128 hears a woof and the clatter of claws on concrete. A dog accompanies the nurse, and judging from the timbre of the bark, it is of size.

  “I trust you like dogs, 128. Our canine friends are trained to ensure your obedience. Very friendly if you’re obeisant to them. They are very much aware of who is to be under their command and who in turn commands them. So follow the rules.”

  With the words of advice, the deeply set ears pieces are pried away. Next a curved knife, razor sharp, slips under the layers of plastic wrapping at the neck. 128 shudders in fear, but the nurse proves to be exacting as her hand glides downward, between the hillocks of her breasts, to her belly, mons and the narrow crevice formed by tightly encased thighs and legs. The woman has before peeled away the confining wrapping of a helpless subjugant.

  The room air brings an instantaneous chill, the skin wet with perspiration and urine. The stench overwhelms as the plastic is pulled aside, the nurse barking a command as she steps away.

  “Stay!” the sharp word master to dog.

  She returns. In her hand is a leash, quickly clipped to a steel collar about the exposed neck of 128. For the first time, she realizes she has been banded just as 45, her fellatio trainer.

  128 lifts her arm, staring in horror at shiny steel bands about her right wrist and bicep at the elbow.

  “When?..”

  “Silence,” the nurse commands. “Subjugants are banded upon arrival. Easier while under sedation. To the floor. Crawl for me.”

  Obedience ingrained, 128 follows the nurse’s tugs. Atrophied muscles awkwardly propelling, she slides from the table finding that it is of thick molded polymer, curved to conform to her supine nakedness. 128 more readily senses the vaginal insert. In fully stuffing her love channel, it feels mammoth and will certainly impede motion. Then her attention turns to the smell. Though it disgusts, she basks in the relative liberty, straining in feeling the curious dildo while shuffling about, respondin
g to the taut leash tensioning her collar.

  She notes the canine companion. It is huge, most likely a Mastiff, the largest breed on Earth. The dog gazes at her intently, seeming prepared to lunge at the slightest undesired motion.

  128’s visual examination ends as she is led to a corner. On the wall there is a hose with spray nozzle. The nurse ties off the leash and grasps the hose, turning a valve.

  “I won’t wrap you again until tomorrow. You’re to be displayed this evening, with the other new arrivals. Get you cleaned up and presentable.”

  Water flows, initial coolness changing to frigid cold. 128 sputters, the shock emptying her lungs. As goose bumps form, nipples the size of silver dollars crinkling to nickels, the reaction brings a wry smile to the nurse.

  “You’re all so eager for a cleansing... then you find objection. Spread! Knees parted. Press your numbers to the floor. Present your cunt to me. And to Brutus. He likes naked girls. Quite the randy hound.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” 128 sucking air, the reply strained as thighs part and her head lowers.

  Such cruelty! Though the spray moderates, the nurse directs to the well exposed mons of 128. The chill brings a lurch, tensioning the leash in a futile attempt to avoid. The flow hits the exposed end of the vaginal insertion, sending bizarre oscillations well into her viscera.

  “Ha, ha. You’ll soon be pining for the spray hose. When worked in the tropical sun, you’ll be begging for cold water.”

  The spray ends.

  “Some rules,” the words coming as the nurse prepares a bucket of soapy water. “You are to be compliant to the wishes of the members at all times. As you’re well aware, they are libertines... sadistic libertines. They enjoy the naked humbleness of the subjugants. Thus you are to present yourself bending and spreading to show your cunt... at the first sight of a member. Some will inspect, some will ignore. But it’s the rule, to expose yourself at their whim.

  “You are never ever to touch yourself. The many well trained hounds are ubiquitous and will know... they will sniff where a girl most reveals her naughtiness. And the penalty for stinky fingers is quick and painful. Lord knows how many bites we’ve had to treat over the years.

  “You’ll be used anally and orally. We’ll be opening you somewhat over the ensuing days. Keep you tight there but supple at the same time. Torn rectums make a girl unusable. The sutures require days to heal.

  “Initially you will be leashed and under the control of a trainer or member at all times. Later, once indoctrinated, that may not be necessary. But unleashing is earned... a privilege, not a right. You have no rights. You are owned. This is Nusquam.”

  The narrative ends as 128 feels the soothing wet warmth of a soapy chamois cloth slather at her shoulder blades. As the hand grazes down her spine to her buttocks, the tender knowing touch brings reminiscences of Nurse Kelly... pretty Nurse Kelly... caring Nurse Kelly. She who arranged what is essentially the kidnapping and incarceration of the needy masochist Miss Patricia LaMange... relegated to being a number... and for the sadist... a pile of savored flesh.

  Chapter Nineteen

  128’s joy is short lived. The nurse ends the cleansing, untying the leash.

  “Squat,” she commands, Brutus moving to threateningly sit nearby.

  128 obeys, shuddering in fear as Brutus bares his fangs. Head rising, torso straightening, legs moving to position her feet, she squats.

  “128, spread for me. Always spread,” the nurse reminds, free hand moving to a pocket.

  128 feels a zing within her quim, the vaginal insertion coming to life. She instantly slides apart her feet as the nurse moves behind her and bends.

  “Cough,” the command coming as 128 senses a hand jostling the free end of the vaginal insertion.

  128 utters a dry cough, the pubo coccygeus momentarily relaxing. The nurse pulls quite firmly, quickly slipping out the mammoth obelisk. 128 sighs in relief as the nurse holds before 128’s inquisitive eyes the glistening object, slick and wet with feminine essence.

  The device is of black rubber, oddly shaped... yet wickedly shaped. 128 realizes it has been crafted to not only deeply penetrate but numerous bumps and ridges make extraction nearly impossible, not to be expelled without the firm tugs of assisting fingers. Yes, at the penetrating end the insertion bulges, somewhat ‘Y’ shaped, the huge double tip nestling into the fornix right and left, deep within cradling her cervix. Numerous smooth metal plates no doubt deliver the electrical shocks she has endured. And a short dangling wire at the free end serves as an antenna. As 128 has found, she can be punished remotely. A simple press of a finger to bring debilitating agony.

  “You can’t imagine what these training dildos cost, 128. Months in development. The shape, the proper voltage, the electronics... plus wiring the entire compound to assure the female subjugants can be properly jolted and disciplined. Lots of time and effort to remind our masochists of their place.”

  Fingers twist, the bottom yielding to free a column of batteries. Such are disposed of, a nearby shelf offering a fresh supply.

  “Don’t feel relieved. We’ll have you stuffed again later. It’s now time to put you on display. Stand. Hands to your head. Walk behind me and to my right. Heel for me, like the little doggie you’d like to be.”

  The nurse pulls from the wall a thick length of plastic and turns, offering the leash a harsh tug as she strolls to the exit door. 128 knows to follow, Brutus the Mastiff in turn following her.

  “We use the sjambok here. We go through so many we need something cheap for correction. Quite painful yet it rarely breaks the skin. That’s important. Infection is rife in the tropics. Plus open welts can be rather unsightly, don’t you think?”

  With that, the nurse pauses, turns and delivers a crisp stroke to 128’s right buttock. She lurches and howls, the pain unexpected, instant, and convincing.

  “Yes, you’re going to be a good girl for me, 128. Very obedient, very respectful.”

  The leash hand lowers, fingers gesturing. 128 remembers to spread her feet, invitingly. The hand reaches, fingers splaying the hairless vaginal lips, slipping inward with ease.

  “You howl in pain, but your cunt tells me you enjoy, 128. You’re going cherish your long stay at Nusquam. We know exactly what you need.”

  Remaining wet, the quick cold rinse returning her nipples to pencil points, 128 is led into the bright sunlight, the glare bringing a sheen to her naked hairless flesh. Outdoors, fully exposed, leashed and under the auspices of a dog, oddly she feels satiation. The secretive world of Nusquam is finally to be revealed.

  Chapter Twenty

  Is it within reason to pine for the quiet darkness of being wrapped?

  Such thoughts broil as 128 stands on toes, wrist bands summarily clipped to a long horizontal pipe high above. Restrained spread, as seems to be the demanded pose at Nusquam, her right ankle band is secured to the left ankle of a girl of color. Her left is secured to the right ankle of a... well... 128 is not certain. The forehead bears the numerals 1...2...6... followed by the letter ‘C”. The naked form appears effeminate, but a diminutive strip of flesh flops about between parted thighs... and if there were testicles such have apparently been excised. Thoughts of such calloused alteration at first gave rise to concern. But as the stress slowly takes its toll, standing motionless in the searing hot tropical sun, hour after hour, thoughts of 128’s own well being pervade.

  The nurse restrained her, leaving Brutus in charge. Her final advisement was to remain still, fighting the restraints to be futile, and reminding that relieving oneself without permission a violation... infractions to be policed by the imposing canine.

  Diverting the unending suffering... attempting to divert the unending suffering... 128 turns her head right to surveil her compatriot. The girl is tall. Her dark skin is hairless including head and eyebrows. 128 cringes in noting that she bares no tattoo, instead the keloided flesh of the forehead reveals the numerals 127. She has been branded, the black ink of 128’s delineation oth
erwise not discernible on her coal blackness.

  As opposed to 128’s somewhat zoftig form, the girl is muscular, most likely an athlete... former athlete... with thin layers of epidermis highlighting thighs and calves of power. The buttocks are attractively rolled, ready to unfurl and forcefully propel. Contrasting 128’s voluptuous form are the breasts... shapely yet limited... body fat long ago burned away by what 128 imagines to be exhausting workouts.

  “How long have you...”

  128’s question in truncated as a docile Brutus snaps to attention. A deep loud woof interrupts, the hound bounding to closely position himself before 128’s spread thighs. She feels his hot breath on the tender pink of her nether lips. Initially welcomed, yet the snarl frightens, her vulnerability unbounded.

  Message received, 128 returns to silence, peering down at the massive head, tongue dangling, saliva drooling, the panting breath bringing a frisson of delight despite the apprehension.

  Subordinating herself to a dog! Degrading, but there is no doubt that Brutus is in charge. There even comes a reward when, apparently satisfied with 128’s silent compliance, Brutus offers her mons a quick lick, bringing evanescent delight... demented delight... before the beast saunters off to return to his guard post.

  Thus the day wears and wears. Is this all there is to Nusquam?

  Boredom, a filling bladder and the slow suffering bring the need for diversion. 128 looks about to survey her surroundings. There are low cinder block buildings, many and unpretentious. In the distant horizon the low rolling hills are verdant, the surroundings indeed a tropical jungle. There come the sounds of fauna, unrecognizable. Birds exotic. Insects serenading in unison. When strange hoots, howls and wails are heard in the distance, 128 becomes oddly grateful for the protective presence of Brutus, the huge canine no doubt able to fend wild beasts of size and ferocity.

  Peering at what appears to be a lighting pole, 128 notes a high mounted camera, its lens directed. Someone, somewhere is observing, the three naked struggling forms, restrained motionless in the hot sun, serving to entertain.