Nusquam

by Chris Bellows

  With her wicked snicker, Miss Penny swings again... and again... and again. Mentally, 128 compares the punishment to a crisp caning and finds the strokes to be easy and moderate. Yet in listening to the resulting lisped cries and pleases for mercy, the results seem even more effective.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Miss Penny wants him kept standing. That why he’s chained high,” 54 explains. “Part of his daily torment. After many hours, whether he’s run in harness or not, there comes exhaustion... and begging. Miss Penny enjoys it when he begs.”

  54 lectures as she stands on a low stool swabbing the naked flesh of 88. Miss Penny departed, the testicle spanking tiring, a mint julep deemed more inviting at the end of a hot afternoon. She has left 54 to explain the role of a groom. Thus she cleanses. In the nearby aisle, a Mastiff attentively sits upright, guarding... perhaps more aptly described as supervising... the naked, tattooed and branded Nusquam trio.

  “As you can see, he’s been defanged, so that despite his feistiness you need not be overly cautious about biting. As Miss Penny explained, since there are daily testosterone injections, keeping him quite randy... and virile... he can be combative. Still, as opposed to the geldings, he pulls well when subjected to the sjambok. The neutered male is more easily controlled but performance can be lacking.”

  Hands working from top to bottom, the soapy chamois smoothes caringly, 88 serene and silent in recovering from his ordeal.

  128 cannot help staring at the swelled testicles, now mightily straining the scrotal sac and challenging the rings. If the likes of Miss Penny can so torment a huge virile male, to what limits will she be tormented... if any?

  “Go ahead and play if you’d like. He can’t object,” 54 noting the stare. “And by all means examine his penis. You’ll need to understand how he’s kept chaste since you’ll be fluffing him for Miss Penny.”

  54 steps from the stool, having cleansed from head to waist.

  “In addition to being tubed, there’s a Prince’s Wand insertion... capped. He pees only with permission.”

  The right index finger of 54 lowers, slips under the steel penis tube and daintily lifts.

  “This is where you will stimulate him... very carefully. He is never ever to be brought to ejaculation.”

  128 sees that the underside of the tube does not completely cover the penis shaft. There is a small open patch exposing less than a square inch of penile flesh... limited but oh so significant. 128 has learned this in her fellatio training. Purportedly it is where the male obtains 80% of his sexual stimulus.

  “Miss Penny wants him to perform erect. She insists that, at least initially, his penis tube be upstanding when harnessed and run. The circumference has been graciously measured to allow that. Room to stiffen and swell... but otherwise rendered useless for attempted masturbation and certainly sex. And with the deluge of testosterone, he will stand well for you.”

  As she speaks, 54’s index finger swirls about, ever so slightly grazing the skin of the open patch. 88 grunts. 128 watches as the steel encasement seems to spasm and lurch, 88 glaring lustfully at her sizable mammary glands.

  “He likes your tits, 128. This part of your chores should be easy for you.”

  Amazed, 128 watches as the tube of steel slowly but quite steadily angles upwards.

  “Miss Penny says he was quite the stud before being rendered to Nusquam. And in a way he still studs... but not under his own auspices. His sperm is extracted monthly. Used for to keep the girls in the milking parlor lactating.”

  “Milking parlor?” 128’s voice tremulous in inquiring.

  “The members... there’s no end to the deviant forms of entertainment here. There are those of us that let down for them... secreting... some on a simple verbal command... some on a goat milking machine... some by hand. But they let down. It’s demeaning, being milked at another’s behest, but it’s... well... tranquil. No forced exercise... no sjambok... just lots of lactate inducing food and... well... nothing. A very sedentary existence.”

  “Have you been milked?”

  “No, my breasts. Deemed useful but inadequate for milking. But you... well, whatever happens happens. They’ll find a role for you and it will... suit you. You’ll come to revel in it... otherwise there’s the pump house.”

  “Miss Penny mentioned that to you... nearing another step in status.”

  “We are all to serve there at some point. It’s unavoidable except for...” a 54 glum faltering on her choice of words.

  “Escape?”

  “On no, the hounds will track you... within hours if not minutes. I saw one subjugant dragged back by her ankles... and then she was summarily prepared and relegated to the pump house. There’s no where to go... miles and miles of insect infested jungle.

  “No, it’s death, 128. Those in the pump house wish for it... and eventually it comes for them.”

  “And you’re going there? To the pump house?” 128 shuddering in response.

  “After I am prepared,” 54 nods, sniffling in remorse. “I’ve served so long...”

  Returning to the stool, 54 steps up, tears evidencing the harshness of the pump house, releasing the nostril chain of 88 from its high hook.

  “Thank you, 54. Thank you,” the strained words coming as an exhausted steed 88 sinks to his knees.

  “Offer him your tits, 128. It’s within the rules.”

  As 128 steps forth, she turns her head noting the ears of the observing Mastiff straighten, his attention riveted.

  “Just make sure your cunny is not touched. That’s for the members.”

  88 extends a tongue... long, wet its pink length fluttering obscenely. In hearing a growl of warning, 128 steps no closer but instead leans, her massive glands dangling invitingly, her hairless mons distant from oral assault. Incredibly, the tongue further extends to lick and flutter again, finding right nipple then left. Long held chaste, 128 finds the warm slippery wetness thrills, the tongue of the human equine trained for pleasure.

  54 moves to the rear, more cleansing. In ever so gently laving the inflamed scrotal sac, the sensitivity piqued, 88 howls in agony, hot breath on 128’s nipples serving to further excite.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Humble, obedient, in constant nakedness, fellatio to be offered upon demand... 128 adapts. Yet there is one aspect of existence at Nusquam which frustrates... and acceptance to which seems impossible. That being communally bedded with a cadre of other subjugants every evening.

  During the day, 128 is permitted a degree of freedom... if moving about under the exacting auspices of the huge Mastiffs can be so described. Yes the hounds are trained... well. For 128 soon learns after many warning barks and nips, that she is to prance on toes with hands on head, well away from any mischief with her long denied quim. Touching is forbidden, her mons or that of a fellow subjugant. The canines prove to be diligent.

  Still there are chores in the stable to be fulfilled, blow jobs many, at night 128 finds herself well tethered. Thus she sits upright, arms raised, neck collar and wrist bands secured to a long horizontal pipe above, ankle bands clipped to floor hooks. Her legs are well parted, forcing her to spread and reveal the pink of her cunny. But most distressing, she sits on a low stool, her anus impaled by a moderate butt plug, its girth intended, as the nurse suggested, to further open her but not detract from the tightness revered by sodomites.

  Though the nights are long and she is well watered for bed, urination is not permitted, a guarding Mastiff at the ready to enforce the rules. Sleep, recuperative sleep, seems rare and limited, 128 would describe such more as passing out through exhaustion than true slumber.

  She notes many of her compatriots to her right and left, neck collar and wrists likewise secured to the long pipe above, sleep well despite the stress position, the double digit numerals of their tattooed foreheads suggesting seniority... many years of enduring the slow torment.

  How long before she acclimates?

  Speech, attempts to communicate with t
he many subjugants, is met with warning growls. 128 wonders if in being held completely motionless, the guarding Mastiff would really bite, her vulnerability replete, helpless to move in self defense.

  On occasion, seemingly when sleep finally overcomes, a member will grasp her ears to awaken. In the darkened chamber, 128 knows to immediately open her mouth and accept a semi firm appendage, swish, suck and take inward hungrily... oddly thrilled to feel it further stiffen in her mouth. Gag reflex long repressed, she has been trained to peer up into the eyes of her superior, her look beseeching... for more... deeper... reverently taking the hard cock... ready to consume the offering of thick spunk... and savor... and thank.

  ‘Thank you for letting me suck your cock sir,’ the humble expression of gratitude coming by rote.

  A satiating blow job typically earns her a pat on the head... Master to dog. On occasion her oral efforts will merit the thrill of a diddling finger on nipples brought to hyper sensitive by way of strict chastity.

  Sitting spread, feminine hygiene denied, after many weeks 128 can smell herself. With her many concupiscent responses, her masochism offering constant arousal in being so licentiously used, the secretion of vaginal juices embarrassingly announces herself... her warped psyche... her paraphilia.

  Such draws much attention from the male Mastiffs as well, all intact, all seeming to look at her covetously, on occasion their huge organs stiffening when their nostrils flare and a long draw of air takes in the fragrance of a cunny in neglect.

  ‘Would they fuck me?’ 128 cannot help asking herself. And ironically, the thought brings more moisture, more flow, and more attraction... deep snorts inhaling her scent, the olfactory nerves stimulating further canine lust.

  There are those subjugants who are assigned to the kennel. How do they serve? She dares not ask, the response may result in a horrifying visit rather than a verbal reply.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Miss Penny wants you figged. 54 showed me how to do it.”

  “Please don’t do that,” the enunciation mangled, the words slurred through a toothless mouth.

  128 smiles wanly. Though she finds odd exhilaration in being empowered, she dares not show it. Fully trained as a groom, she tends to 88, once known as Balls Martindale. As always he stands, nose ring forcibly chained high to the wood of his stall.

  “I must. Miss Penny says you run best... and it’s less tiring than using the sjambok on your bare buttocks.”

  Quivering hands reach forth and palm the massive gonads, the scrotal sac straining to hold such within.

  “Will these ever stop growing?” 128 emboldened by her limited authority.

  She glances at the hanging spatula and senses a momentary thrill. What if she were to likewise offer a testicle spanking? It requires such little effort to bring amazing agony. Would 88 report her misconduct? Would Miss Penny care?

  It’s tempting. Perhaps another time. The equestrienne Penny Osborne will soon arrive for a long hot late morning jaunt.

  “How is it you’ve been rendered to Nusquam. Miss Penny says you were successful... though... ah... self destructive.”

  “I was set up. The beesh... she arranged everything... planned everything... plotted everything. Ruined my career... my financial state... my marriage. I was left with nothing... and threatened with lawsuits and possible jail time. This was my only alternative. Life serving her... the beesh.”

  128 steps up on a stool, reaches and releases the nose chain.

  “Down,” the command out of character and somewhat strained.

  88 knows to kneel then lower at the waist to bow, wrists remaining tethered behind his back.

  “Seems like a lot of effort... just to be able to harness and run you.”

  “Revenge... nothing more than revenge. I... I... well I used to... you know... get some side action. Every guy does it. It’s Wall Street. And having hired Penny Osborne, trained her, even arranged to have her manage a small book as a bit of a reward and bit of an experiment, why shouldn’t a guy be given... well some quid pro quo. So one slow afternoon, I called her into my office and demanded a quick blow job. She didn’t seem like the type to object... and I thought I’d give her a chance to express her gratitude.”

  Listening intently, 128 begins placing the huge form into harness. The human equines come to feel comfortable in tight bondage, 54 lectured, developing a sense of pride and accomplishment in being made to perform... put on display naked... and for Miss Penny Osborne... firmly erect.

  “She told me she had inside information on a hot stock. And had done a lot of research to confirm. Reported earnings would be well short of expectations. There would be an air pocket in the price. An immediate drop. I believed her, shorting a high flying tech stock. Stupid move number one. Yes, Balls Martindale went against the trend. Stupid move number two, I didn’t bother checking the float. More than half the outstanding stock was held by the company founders, unlikely to sell... if they could. The beesh didn’t bother telling me that. So I couldn’t find enough shares to borrow to sell, and there came stupid move number three. I sold naked, thinking I could quickly reverse the trades before delivery. It’s against SEC regulations, but the big traders do it more often than most know.”

  “That’s all?” 128 encircling the waist of 88 with a thick leather belt.

  “It was a set up. The earnings report was robust. The stock went into a break out. I was not only short millions of shares but illicitly short, no way to deliver... except to immediately buy at a much higher price. Ruinous to me... ruinous to the firm’s investors... career over... especially with the SEC likely to ban me from the industry if not demand jail time.”

  “Spread for me,” 128 not able to resist more handling of Miss Penny’s grapefruit.

  Hands reach down, cupping left testicle and right, the sense of control bringing momentary giddiness. Then as trained, 128 reaches for a short elastic cord, clipping the right testicle ring, stretching downward and clipping the opposing end to the right thigh band. 88 grimaces with the tautness, the elasticity challenged.

  “So you came here... to Nusquam?” hands working to similarly restrain the left testicle ring.

  “Oh no. In the turmoil, failed attempts at negotiating an out, phone calls demanding delivery as the stock rose and rose, my loyal administrative assistant visited my office, smirking in hearing me make promises she knew I could not keep. ‘The SEC’s been calling,’ she announced with a look of vengeance. ‘And I understand there’s a general partners meeting being held. Something about the firm having to renege on certain deliveries.’ And she laughed... outrageously.”

  128 notes the straining scrotum, pulls left cord and right to assure tension then moves to retrieve bit and bridle. 88 grimaces again, but accustomed to his curious restraint, continues his monologue.

  “‘I sucked you off once, Balls,’ her voice sinister, her use of my sobriquet knowingly out of line. ‘And now I’m going to fuck you. I not only got the inside information wrong... I knew it was wrong. I also leaked your position to all the traders you’ve screwed over the years... some of whom you fired and/or fucked their wives. They went heavily long on the stock. Seems you not only owe lots of shares but owe to folks not overly eager to settle for less than 100 cents on the dollar,’ her laughter wicked.

  “Well, I was stunned. Retribution for a simple little office dalliance, a blow job, demanded and received all the time on the Street. I sat seething as the beesh lit a cigarette, knowing I hated smoking.

  “‘ Been talking to wife too. She’s lovely. You know she goes both ways, Balls. She hasn’t been sitting home alone while you’re at the strip club... not of late. Yes, I’ve been fucking your wife... and now I’m fucking you. But I may be able to help.’

  “What was I to say? Career and marriage in a free fall. SEC asking questions. Future employment doubtful. Loyal administrative assistant... knowing all the holes, all the weak spots, all the questionable trades... and now plotting against me. I cracked. I asked f
or her help. She outlined her conditions. Really only one... Nusquam.”

  Bridle buckled in place, 128 puts the story to an end, slipping into the toothless mouth a cruel snaffle bit, her fingers working to assure the long, nimble tongue is properly pinched, the attached toggles abrading the tender mouth and enhancing Equestrienne Penny Osborne’s total control.

  Reins come next, 128 again sensing empowerment as the bald head instantly reacts to the slightest motion of her hand. Then she knows to fluff. She needs the steel encased penis standing, Miss Penny pridefully showing off her priapic steed with every run. 128 thus bends, pressing her mammoth soft breasts to the face, knowing that the tongue will seek but the bit will frustratingly deny. There comes a low lustful moan of ultimate pleasure withheld. Then 128’s right arm lifts, bringing the steed to kneel upright. The angle of the entubed penis begins to change, rising. A hand lowers, 128 knowing that a simple index finger will twirl about and have the chaste human equine standing as desired .

  “Nice and hard for me, 88. You do want to please Miss Penny.”

  Ah, such a pleasant shift in roles, 128 glancing to where a plug of ginger awaits.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  128 finds herself in awe whenever in the presence of Nusquam member Miss Penny Osborne. Bald, banded, branded and tattooed 128 feels lowly in her nakedness, peering at the tall, handsome blonde as she blithely strolls the aisle of the stables. Short hair athletically combed, riding attire neatly pressed, sjambok at the ready, she casually tosses a biscuit to one of the many Mastiffs, smiling in receiving a respectful ‘woof’ in response.

  In nearing the stall of her steed... 88... she smiles anew in seeing the steel encased penis standing obeisantly, the huge testicles ringed and strapped low to the thigh bands.

  128 holds the reins, knowing after so much time in harness 88 senses comfort in being tightly controlled. The lengths of leather slip through the ends of the snaffle bit, right and left and terminate at the deeply set nose ring. Thus the slightest jostle brings intense anguish to both tongue and nose, the myriad of nerve endings sending a message demanding compliance... instant and thorough.