Nusquam

“Oh you so much enjoy producing for me Judy. And I like draining you. You hate me but find the need to give overwhelms. It’s all you have left in life... it’s now your only role.”

Right, left, right, left, the fingers squeeze then drawn, squeeze then draw, slowly, tenderly, methodically. The spurts splash the basin with vigor. It steadily fills, the flow rate impressive. 98 moans. Despite the vehemence her reaction to the ecstasy of offering her essence cannot to be suppressed. The hate is apparent, but her need... to be emptied, the gentle draws and squeezes so welcomed... counters her

loathing. She has been conquered... and her breasts capitulate despite the desire to battle.

“You see how nicely this calms them, 128? No more nasty words. The feisty aspiring actress Judy Dupont just dangles in her bonds, her energy depleting. I’m slowly draining her. She succumbs, a nice slow hand milking rare and very much appreciated.”

Indeed, 128 notes looks of envy on the remaining herd of human cows. She also notes there hang unused cables supporting empty broad straps of nylon. She shudders, the restraints seeming to beckon.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

128 sits thighs parted, impaled, wrists held high. Did she sleep?

Miss Florence Gale, having returned to Hollywood after a long weekend of riding both Shannon the Cannon and the cunnilingus chair, has released 128 from her temporary term of servitude. Thus during the day she is assigned again to the stables, grooming steed 88, spanking his balls, assuring that he is well exercised, his penis prepared to stand and amuse Miss Penny Osborne on her next visit. Nights, she is communally bound to be bathed, fed and bedded.

128 hears the chamber of bound subjugants begin to stir. There comes the growing illumination of sunrise, another day at Nusquam to begin.

Bladder filled, 128 knows she must withhold and wait her turn, a tending nurse to eventually grant permission, offering a collection vessel between her forcibly parted thighs and the humiliating assistance of a hand, splaying her labia to assure the morning deed is neatly performed.

Though being bedded communally for many months, 128 still cannot acclimate herself to sleeping sitting upright. Eventually her head slumps and there come brief naps.

Augmenting the slow and constant aggravation is the anal insertion. Just when her sphincter adapts, 128 finds her chair accommodating the next largest size. She began the nightly anal stretching with a modest black cylinder of rubber designated as a ‘No. 1’. Last night she found herself spreading and lowering to impale herself on a sizable ‘No. 6’.

How many sizes? She dreads thinking about numbers like 15...20... 25. How far will they stretch her?

Ah, a white uniform appears. A subjugant to her left is offered a bowl. The nurse stoops, a hand lowers, meaty labia no doubt parted. There comes a pause... always a pause... discipline to be instilled even during the most basic of human functions. Finally comes the command... ‘urinate for me’... and the hissing of a night’s excretions.

The sound fosters greater need, 128 suppressing the verbal plea... ‘hurry’! Such will mean she will be last.

The nurse empties, returns and finally approaches. She smiles... wickedly, so much enjoying her power as a bowl is aligned beneath her low stool.

“You’re to report to the milking parlor before going to the stables 128,” a deft right hand lowering to assure the urethral opening is unimpaired. “Nurse Traite took an interest in you and the Director agrees you should be evaluated.”

There comes the evil pause.128 is expecting such. But expecting not is the free left hand. It moves to 128’s right breast, palming, freely smoothing about then brazenly jiggling in assessment. Wrists and ankles secured, 128 must helplessly endure the humiliation.

And yet, the woman’s controlling touch feels so good!

“And with these tits, why wouldn’t she? Ha, ha, ha.”

The milking parlor! A stunned 128 remains silent, the message daunting. She recalls the intense degradation endured by 98... Miss Judy Dupont... her acting career truncated by the vengeful Florence Gale... now serving as a branded, tattooed human cow.

“Rex will accompany you,” the nurse nodding to one of the huge Mastiff’s.

Finally comes the command... the three welcomed words... and 128 opens obediently and presses forcefully. Delay brings a second command... ‘stop’. And therefore with her need is great, there is haste.

“They’ll find an appropriate function for you here, 128. This is Nusquam. We know girls like you... what deep within makes you happy. And if we fail... there’s always the pump house. Everyone performs to their best there... they have no choice.”

Bathed like a child and spoon fed the bland but highly nutritious Nusquam mush, the tending nurse prepares 128 for her journey to the milking parlor and Nurse Traite. Wrist and elbow bands clipped together behind her back, the tightness presses back her shoulders. 128 senses her breasts thrusting forward to fill the room. Then, once again her anus is well lubricated, the nurse deeming the unguent protection. Next, for the first time since being wrapped and mentally programmed, 128 finds herself placed in a garment... a special garment.

“It’s a cunny harness,” the nurse succinctly explain in buckling a nylon belt about her waist.

Dangling below are vertical cords to support thinner straps of nylon which are similarly buckled about her upper thighs. It is then that 128 discovers the horror of the cunny harness. For the nurse begins toying with her labia, right lip first, kneading and tugging. Initially, in being held chaste, the manipulation feels good, but when satisfied the sensitive pink is appropriately stretched and engorged, a clamp closes over to encapsulate.

“It’s for the best. Rex can keep you under strict control without having to bite. You’ll want to avoid that. They’re a very strong breed... large teeth.”

The left lip is also kneaded, stretched out and clamped. Following that her clitoral hood is clamped as well. 128 then watches in distress as cords are connected to the clamps, pulled upwards and threaded through an eyelet at the front of the waist belt. When the nurse gently tugs, 128 gasps in agony as the clamps tighten. Though the nurse’s hand action is ever so slight, the pain is jarring.

“So you be a good girl and make sure you humbly respond to Rex... that the leash is always slack.”