Nusquam

Kelly’s afterglow transcends to more lustiness as the gentle tongue and lips lick and lave.

“I’m curious about Patricia Lamange, Robert. Are you aware of her status?”

The hairless cranium bobs, silently acknowledging, lips glued to her engorging labia. Kelly rebukes herself for distracting, the oral servitude amazingly proficient. She thus puts aside more questions, soaking up both the physical joy and the emotional gratification. Her quick orchidectomy has resulted in magical transformation, a male... former male... whose life role is now to serve... women of authority considered omnipotent... and she who plucked away his maleness deemed a Goddess.

The first orgasm comes, thighs squeezing in climactic ecstasy. Robert knows to lie immobile, awaiting the command for more or to retreat. Quim well frictioned by the Feeldoe double dildo, Kelly decides on moderation. She taps at Robert’s tattooed forehead, signaling withdrawal.

“Has her evaluation been completed?” resuming her query.

“No Ma’am. She’s number 128... tattooed, branded, sensory deprivation and brainwashing successfully completed. She’s being face fucked and sodomized often of course. Otherwise been working the stables as a groom for Miss Penny Osborne. But that’s not to last. Miss Penny has arranged for a permanent replacement groom, the wife of her steed. She was rendered here two weeks ago, now completing her sensory deprivation and brain washing. So a few days ago Nurse Traite had 128 at the milking parlor.”

Kelly nods. The vast mammary glands of heiress Patricia Lamange always objects of sadistic delight, she envisions the ample breast meat encapsulated, squeezed and sucked by the teat cups of Nurse Traite. She’ll dress and visit the girl, her status as a Nusquam member to be enjoyed.

“Prepare the shower, Robert. You will bathe me.”

The command brings a squeal of delight as Robert scrambles from the bed. Kelly notes the well rounded fattened buttocks, the branded letter ‘N’ forever delineating Robert’s status.

‘It’s a shame they only have one set of balls to surrender,’ Kelly humorously thinks to herself. ‘The subservient male alters so wondrously.’

Chapter Forty-Three

Kelly Devers dresses. No longer required is the white uniform denoting her former profession, her years of Nusquam employment behind her. Instead, frolicking amongst libertines, her attire can better address the tropical heat and humidity of the jungle enclave... plus be practical. A strapless halter of diaphanous white silk offers coolness yet highlights breasts of enticing proportion, nipples invitingly silhouetted. A short pleated cotton skirt, sans undergarments, yields to the occasional refreshing breeze. And will yield as well to the obeisant head and face of an oral subjugant.

Robert calls out his good bye, the voice pleasingly soft and high pitched, an exacting day serving the Director of Nusquam to begin.

Kelly in turn bids adieu, reflecting on the morning shower. Yes, Robert bathed her with glee, his adoration apparent. And Kelly requited the favor, soapy fingers returning to where years ago she callously... but professionally... incised the scrotum, snipped nerves, vessels and vas deferens and plundered. Ah those pings... greyish pink plums dropping to steel surgical dish... the sound so slight yet so significant.

‘What happened here Robert? Something’s missing,’ she could not avert chiding, his look of glumness bringing to her a girlish giggle.

She also worked his penis, decimated with the deluge of feminine hormones, not able to stifle offending laughter as the organ struggled to firm. Her touch... deft, known to bring joy to the intact male... brought frustration, ultimate masculine pleasure forever denied.

Newly rich, newly empowered, Kelly assesses in a mirror, her raven hair simply groomed, limited make up not detracting from handsomeness, smooth blemishless skin gleaming with sun tan oil. Pleased, she steps from cabin 10... to the stables. On this visit there will be no need for a medical kit, no twisted ankle to bandage, no excoriated flesh in need of ointment, no rectums to be sutured... torn asunder in torrid anal penetration. .

It is Nusquam... and now it is to be enjoyed.

Kelly Devers strolls with swagger. Taking a boy anally offers such a sense of power... control... authority. Though tropical birds squawk and sing in the high corona of the jungle forest, she... instead hears in her mind the effeminate squeals of castrate Robert as she plunged, hips thrusting to friction the tight little sphincter. As a Nusquam trusty, he’s not subjected to the whimsy of the sodomite members. Anal penetration rare, Kelly had to work him open. And work she did, her end of the well designed Feeldoe bringing wave after wave of carnal delight.

Entering the long stable structure, stalls familiar but stocked with tattooed foreheads unknown, she slows to survey. Naked, well muscled forms... in equine parlance fillies, geldings, a rare stallion... are tethered in stalls, patiently awaiting a morning run, their masochistic souls no doubt pining for the sting of the sjambok, the feel of taut reins, the

pinch of a directing snaffle bit. At the end she spies Miss Patricia Lamange, now Nusquam subjugant number 128, the letter ‘N’ of her branded right buttock seeming to hail attention, her cheeks swaying invitingly as she cleanses a tall stallion. But for knowing her Nusquam number, the girl is barely recognized, the baldness eerily unbecoming.

Stepping past an attentive Mastiff, Kelly Devers gr

eets her former client.

“Good morning, Pattie.”

Visit unexpected, a stunned 128 pauses, turning to confirm the source of the greeting.

“Miss Kelly! I...”

“I know... it’s unexpected. But I’m now a member. A little vacation long overdue.”

Kelly enters the stall, her attention immediately diverted to steed 88, the enlarged testicles not to be ignored.

“Goodness. Stallions are few here. And these!”

Conduct otherwise considered rude and abrasive, at Nusquam members rule. Thus her hands lower and after many years of medical training, handling testicles large and small, Kelly inquisitively palms the outsized gonads, the objects of Penny Osborne’s scorn.