Nusquam
“Now let’s have a look at Nusquam’s newest castrate,” 54 licking clean the moist quim as the woman steps to the left. “Sutures feel a little tight down there, 126? The nurses can be a little mischievous... wanting you to be very much aware of your alteration.”
128’s eyes follow the woman as she moves. A hand lowers drawing forth an empty scrotal sac. As suspected the male... former male... has been cruelly neutered, tears indicating he is yet to acclimate to his transformation.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“The branding becomes you, 128. You look even more like a kept animal,” fingers gently smoothing over the keloided flesh of the right cheek.
“Thank you Ma’am,” the voice timid and respectful.
Having been branded, training deemed complete, 128 has indeed learned she is kept, the trainers, nurses and members of Nusquam strict and demanding.
“I had wagered that you’d urinate. You cost me some dollars.”
“I’m sorry Ma’am.”
Augmenting the intense pain of being marked as chattel with a searing hot iron was the humiliation of being tethered before a sizable gathering of Nusquam’s members, observing with sadistic delight. Members are given to wager whether the subjugant will vomit, faint or as with the woman’s bet, involuntarily urinate.
128 tossed her lunch, a waiting bucke
t assuring such would not be lost... to later be served again.
Adding to the ordeal, 128 grievously learned that the letter ‘N’ does not result from a single marking but instead from three... two parallel brands with a third applied between at a slant to depict the desired letter. Thus brandings at Nusquam are ritually long and involved... indeed bringing violent somatic reactions.
“Well, you’ve sucked enough cocks for a while,” the examining hand withdrawing. “The male members do enjoy sampling the skills of the new arrivals. I’m told you can take some of the biggest quite deeply. So I’m sure auditioning to become my stable groom be will a welcomed change.”
“Yes Ma’am, thank you for the opportunity.”
The woman turns. Member and subjugant resume walking the soft dirt path leading to the stables. 128 dutifully keeps her hands to the back of her head. One of the many Mastiffs, 128 has come to learn there are dozens patrolling the many acres, ambles behind. When the woman speaks, 128 listens attentively, the sjambok in her right hand at the ready to assure her words are heeded. She peers at the woman with envy. Though her age is approximate to her own, the woman’s comportment is so authoritative... regal... having the savior faire Ms. Patricia LaMange... Nusquam subjugant number 128... never developed yet always admired.
Complementing her envy, is the woman’s handsomeness. Given little time and attention, the golden blonde locks offered a less angular hair style, the looks of the commanding woman would be as stunning as her demeanor.
“My name is Penny by the way... Penny Osborne... Miss Penny to you. As a trial, you’ll be learning to care for my steed, Richard Martindale... otherwise known as Balls Martindale.”
The appellation brings 128 to smile... a reaction to be quickly and humbly suppressed.
“And yes, my stallion does have a large set... many subdued swats of a spatula serving to bring irreversible swelling... but the moniker originated from his notorious but short career on Wall Street. Balls was known for both his gutsy trading and reckless philandering. And as his administrative assistant I had to sit at his side and watch him... until he fucked up. Then I turned things. It was for the best. Deep within his complex personality, ultimately he wanted to lose... a self destruct element. I knew that from day one, but I had to let him jump off a cliff time and again, Balls putting great faith in me as his parachute, pulling his ass out of bad trades... and sordid relationships in cheating on his wife.”
Listening intently, 128 notes a stanchion, a smooth horizontal plank, waist high, supported by vertical poles, left and right. Numerous snap hooks at the ready, Penny Osborne notes her interest.
“Sodomy frames... and for more lengthy applications of the sjambok. Tummy on the rail, head held low, buttocks high, a subjugant can be restrained in seconds... and face fucked... butt fucked... or whipped.”
128 trembles with the thought, bringing laughter.
“Yes, the members here enjoy spontaneity. You’ll encounter frames everywhere.”
The strolling duo reach one of the many unassuming cinder block structures of the Nusquam compound. The door opens to a startling scene, rows right and left of stalls, ostensibly for livestock... but at Nusquam none are four legged.
“One of the many diversions here at Nusquam... working naked, well restrained subjugants. Something empowering about whipping a human steed into exhaustion on a hot sunny day in the tropics.”
Miss Penny turns to silence, slowing her pace as the duo step down the center aisle, permitting 128 to take in the bizarre scenario.
To her left is 127, her coal black flesh seemingly even darker, no doubt having been run and sunned often. A large steel ring has been cruelly inserted into her nose, its gauge convincing, the cartilage of the septum pierced well into her nostrils. Attached by way of a small padlock is a chain leading to a ring embedded into the thick wood forming the stall. Though it is her only binding, 128 quickly realizes that in sensing the constant weight of the nostril ring and chain, 127 is well aware she is kept, no other raison d’etre then to await a member for bridling and a long run.
In seeing Miss Penny, 127 knows to step forth, turn, spread and bend, presenting her mons for inspection. This brings a wicked smile. An examining hand lowers, and as 128 has learned, the woman can splay and enter a girl’s vagina in a single effortless gesture.
Sure enough, two fingers glide inward and diddle, bringing 127 to both grunt and smile, repressed in guilty shyness.
“127 has been well trained. And no longer champs at her bit in resistance... isn’t that right 127? You’ve come to enjoy being run... some swift strokes of the sjambok bringing a good lather.”