Nusquam Read online

  Nusquam

  by Chris Bellows

  ISBN: 978-1-945648-10-6

  A Pink Flamingo Media Ebook

  Copyright ©2016 by Chris Bellows

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the publishers.

  For information contact:

  Pink Flamingo Media

  www.pinkflamingo.com

  P.O. Box 632 Richland, MI 49083

  Chapter One

  “Is Kelly coming?”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “Good. Hate to think of what these lovely tits would look like if the weights hang too long. I assume they’re uncomfortable. You want more? Another pound or two?”

  “Please no sir. She’ll be coming late.”

  The man stands over the kneeling woman, hands gently cradling her head, his now tranquil tone

  in contrast to the sharp commands and lustful grunts of moments before. He is satiated and quiescent. In opening a girl, anal sex can be laborious, but the ecstatic release, when combined with the raw exchange of power, like no other form of carnal pleasure.

  “Clean me!” his tone returning to authority as his hips press forward to present a firm but rapidly softening phallus. “And don’t eat strawberries or whatever fruit before I take you. The seeds can irritate.”

  “It was kiwi, sir,” the girl craning her neck, humbly taking the offered appendage.

  “Well... whatever... you’d think you’d be more attentive back there. You know you’re going to clean whatever my pecker encounters. Most girls keep it neat. But you seem to enjoy the sloppiness. It degrades... and adds to your sick thrill... doesn’t it?”

  Mouth filled with cock, the girl carefully nods her response, swishing her tongue then swallowing the remnants of anal coupling. Her humbleness brings a paternal smile, the sadist knowing of the needs... and so graciously accommodating.

  There comes silence as the man revels, oral servitude augmenting his power. Then, penis deemed presentable, he steps back, the flaccidness exiting with a plop, turns and reaches for his clothes.

  “Ask Kelly about Nusquam. It may be best for you. Some day you’re going to run into a guy who cares little... some amateur who does not know of limits... or enjoys too much taking a girl past them. Hate to see you hurt... truly hurt... or permanently marked... against your will.”

  In smugness, the man dresses, his enjoyment now more subtle in surveying the well tethered nakedness he has spent the afternoon tormenting.

  “Out of town next week,” the man informs in stepping behind the kneeling form.

  He pauses, admiring the rosebud opening, traces of milky white male essence oozing past the worn and reddened sphincter.

  Then the left hand reaches down. As the fingers splay open the outer labia, there comes a sense of accomplishment in feeling the warmth of the buttocks... a degree of intense heat remaining. In encountering wetness, he smiles the right hand easily slipping inward his offering. Too easily. The girl moans in need. The sopping vagina evidences her excitement... her unfulfilled concupiscence. He often wonders... is it the pain... the humiliation... the sense of complete capitulation? What brings such unsatiated lust? Her submission is thorough... and though denied the ultimate gratification of orgasm, she finds enjoyment.

  “Kelly has her own key?” patting a well welted right cheek.

  “Yes sir,” the girl grimaces.

  “Good. I’ll lock the door behind me,” reaching forth to motion the weights dangling from the left nipple.

  The grimace turns to low moans of slow suffering. Well restrained, she cannot still the pendulums, forced to submit to ponderous trinkets.

  “Nusquam,” he reminds, flicking the light switch, leaving the girl to suffer in darkness.

  Chapter Two

  “Caned, butt fucked and the nipple torture continues. You had a long afternoon. Really Pattie, don’t you think you’re getting a little too deep into this?”

  There comes a welcomed click. The room brightens to bring cheer. The suffering will end.

  “I... I... it’s something I need, Miss Kelly.” the voice quaking.

  The woman of calm demeanor steps into the chamber, a spare bedroom turned dungeon. She pauses surveying a scene she has so often encountered... yet one which would shock the unwary of the vanilla world.

  The apartment’s sole resident, Miss Pattie LaMange kneels naked, wrists and neck encumbered in heavy wooden stocks. Welts on well rounded globes are readily counted, six perfectly parallel stripes on each hillock, evenly spaced... the sadist pridefully sending his message of exactitude.

  There glistens traces of male essence, the leisurely flow exiting to coat the inner thighs. And there is to be noted the ongoing breast torment... mouse traps clamped about right nipple and left, weights hanging below to proclaim the mastery of the sadist long after his departure.

  “Please Miss Kelly... my tits.”

  The plea brings a smile... and little haste. Kelly knows... the body of the masochist suffers... yet the psyche so much covets.

  “We’ll take care of you... all of you,” sliding a low stool before the forcibly lowered head.

  Kelly sits. Pattie cranes her neck to look upward, the sight of the white uniform welcomed and comforting. The nurse is pretty... raven hair, her mid thirties age offering experience with a remaining aura of youthfulness. Her presence brings a wane smile, knowing the long ordeal will end... and another is to begin.

  Hands reach to the left breast, the tender flesh purple, circulation too long impeded. The fingers work, loosening the sprung bar of metal... so slim yet so imposing.

  “Take a deep breath,” Kelly’s words matronly.

  Yes, the toil of the sadist survives his departure. For as the trap and connecting weights are removed, the rush of circulation brings renewed pangs of pain, the cerebral cortex awakened anew. Pattie LaMange cries out. The smile of Nurse Kelly broadens.

  “Shush, you’ve brought this on yourself. And within, you know you enjoy the rush.”

  She does, Pattie shamed, chagrined to realize Nurse Kelly understands so well.

  “You’re late Miss Kelly,” the words labored in enduring the intense agony.

  “Not sure how you would know, kneeling in the stocks for so many hours... but yes. One of my girly boys needed a fanny spanking before I gave him a bath and put him to bed.”

  “You spank?” Pattie unaware of such aspects of her services.

  “When needed. There are so many roles to be fulfilled, so much discipline required. I try. Another deep breath,” the fingers gently working to free the right trap.

  The scene repeats... the returning circulation to again bring a crashing wave of suffering.

  “Will you bathe me?” the tone meek.

  “Easier to groom you just like this. You’re nicely immobile... and I have access to all I require.”

  Weights tossed aside, Kelly steps to the adjoining bathroom, shaking her head as she crosses and surveys the chamber. Pattie LaMange is sick... suffering from a mental/emotional addiction. Thousands upon thousands of dollars have been spent equipping the sizable spare bedroom. There is no imaginable form of torment that cannot be offered by the many devices and implements of pain. Limbs to be twisted, squeezed, restrained in unending immobility... flesh to be clamped, pinched, excoriated... openings oral, vaginal and anal to be stuffed... penetrated with objects of every shape and size.

  In addition there is the bizarre furniture, the humiliation of submitting to a visiting sadist enhanced by an array of bondage apparatuses. Yes, Pattie will be made to lie, sit, squat, stand, hang in a variety of p
oses, the gear intricate and expensive.

  In the bathroom Nurse Kelly under the sink reaches for a porcelain bowl. She then fills a basin with warm water, fragrant suds to bring olfactory delight, tossing in a soft chamois cloth.

  “Do you think your father had any inkling of how you would be spending your inheritance?” Nurse Kelly calls out, swirling the chamois to bring a froth of white to the warm wetness. “I can’t imagine how much you’ve spent on all this... not to mention the cost of my visits.”

  Grasping a straight edged razor, Kelly returns stepping to the rear of the kneeling naked form. The buttocks, though welted in red, are delightfully shaped, the smooth layers of subcutaneous fat bringing both envy and thoughts of wastefulness in how she chooses to offer her charms. And the dangling breasts have returned to shapeliness as well, perfect hemispheres of young plumped flesh.

  “There’s plenty. I can afford it,” Pattie’s tone out of place in somewhat lecturing.

  The porcelain bowl is placed between well parted knees, Kelly well aware of the need after many hours in bondage. It is then that Kelly notes the sphincter, the pink rose bud worn and chafed to the point of crimson. The sight brings a cringe and a question.

  “You’ve been specially prepared here,” her observation coming as she begins tenderly soaping the welted flesh of the buttocks. “Tooth brush... sand paper?”

  “Steel wool, Miss Kelly. I... I... well he wanted to assure I offered myself without attaining pleasure.”

  “Of course. It’s a power thing with men.”

  Kelly’s attention focuses on the vaginal opening, noting that a spindled sheet of green partially protrudes past inner labia engorged in arousal. For Pattie, submission thrills, to either gender.

  “What’s this?” the fingers of the right hand working to retrieve the deeply implanted cylinder of green.

  She pulls... slowly... gently... knowing of the extreme sensitivity.

  “Your visitor left you a little something,” unscrolling the tight roll. “A portrait of Ulysses S. Grant. How thoughtful,” Nurse Kelly mocks. “You’ve been caned, fucked and breast tortured for a fifty dollar bill. And it’s soaking wet, hinting at how much you enjoyed. Tsk, tsk.”

  The greenback is laid to the tiled floor then pushed forth to where the recipient can see.

  “I’d like my head shaved as well,” Pattie more politely requests.

  “You can pee now,” the fingers of the right hand returning to splay open the labia. “And you’ll need to let the bill dry,” Nurse Kelly’s tone rebuking the apparent sultriness. “Did you say shave your head? You’ve been spending thousands for laser hair removal... now your head too? What about work? You’re going to have lots to explain to your customers and colleagues.”

  “I quit... Friday. I want to be immersed. Can you visit daily?”

  “My goodness girl, you are addicted. So Daddy left you enough so that you can do that? Give up your job for fifty dollars per day? That doesn’t cover an hour of my time... much less go far to pay the upkeep on this place.”

  The excretions curtail, the bowl brimming. Nurse Kelly resumes the sponge bath, smiling in hearing the soft sigh of glee as warm soapiness soothes the many welts.

  “No skin broken. You’ll be fine in a day or two... buttocks ready for more. This guy was good... I assume it was a guy judging from the spindled insertion in your cunny. The men think it’s funny... and degrading of course. Your new boyfriend didn’t cross with one stroke, by the way. A nice crisp caning. I’m sure extraordinarily painful... but no permanent marks. You are developing a good circle of... aficionados.”

  “Not really a boyfriend. He’s married... to a wife not into the scene. He knows you... knows of you.”

  “Most do. My own circle seems to grow and grow. Been offering aftercare for many years.”

  “And a good skill set... and knowing hands,” Pattie La Mange compliments, sighing again as the chamois soaks up the heat of the ravished flesh. “David encouraged that I ask you about Nusquam,” Pattie prompts. “Says it may be best for me.”

  In alarm, the hand stops.

  “So it was David you entertained this afternoon. I should have recognized his work. Very firm, very thorough. Loves to feel a girl squirm in pain with every thrust of that huge pecker of his. But he should not have mentioned Nusquam. It’s not something I can talk about.”

  Nurse Kelly completes the bath in silence then arises, taking the filled bowl to the bathroom.

  “Scissors... for your head... and an enema bag.... expunge all that seed he left in you. And no more about Nusquam. Not tonight. I am obligated to remain silent about that... will need approval to even mention the word again.”

  “An enema! Please... not too much.”

  “I’ll decide that. Large and slow... I think the deepness and sense of capitulation will excite you... taking a nice high colonic while I shave your head. You’re going to look ridiculous bald, Pattie. But I suppose that’s what you want. You can explain that complete defoliation abets your nakedness and is good for you... makes you feel most vulnerable... that’s best for a girl of your ilk.”

  Chapter Three

  Pattie La Mange marvels in admiration as the hands work. Strap after strap, magnetic locks clicking, the knowing nurse is most expert and alacritous in binding a patient... her client... in the Segufix restraint system. Institutional in design... the high cost indicative of the quality and precise engineering... when bound, the so termed patient cannot only put aside thoughts of escape, but finds herself completely immobile as well. Pattie paid thousands, even ordering the expensive head restraint part of the system.

  Yes, in visiting the manufacturer’s website she found herself drooling in lust, imaging herself placed in such thorough restraint for hour after hour. With money no object, she purchased with gleeful expectation.

  Nurse Kelly also marvels... at the naked girl’s fine shapeliness... with her enthusiasm... with the intensity of her desire to finally manifest what is certainly a lifetime of latent desire. The Segufix system is not a toy, not like many of the cheap bondage paraphernalia fabricated mainly for show... more articles for amusement than for true captivity. No, it’s real, and with years of experience, Nurse Kelly knows how to make it feel real... very real.

  “I’ll leave the key hanging on the doorknob where it can’t be overlooked,” Nurse Kelly informs as she tests the many thick nylon straps.

  Satisfied, she moves to a night table. There awaits the coup de grace for what will be an unimaginably long evening... insertions... inflatable. To be slipped in place at Pattie LaMange’s demented request.

  “The gag first Pattie. I want you silent. There will be no going back... no protests... no pleas for leniency. I will decide how much you’ll take.”

  Despite the strictness of the many thick straps, she notes that the girl quivers. And the reaction always brings wonder. She has seen it so often in girls of Pattie’s ilk. Is it fear? Is it in joyous anticipation? Though the quests are unanswered, she consoles herself. For she realizes Pattie knows not the answer as well. Kelly is very much aware that they never fully understand themselves... understand their own needs, the girls... and boys... of Pattie’s paraphilia. And such delightfully adds to their own frustration.

  Yes, the firm words nurture the strange craving of the masochist, Pattie knowing to open her mouth as the cruel inflatable gag is pushed past her lips and pressed inward until Nurse Kelly hears the sound of a slight gag. She smiles then squeezes the puffolator to inflate, assuring the insertion is not to be expelled. Next she moves to place a stanchion overhead, a two liter water bag hanging above. She connects a tube to the gag, turns a valve and watches with care and amusement as liquid flows to the gag. At the tip thrust deeply into the throat, it secretes... slowly but constantly... forcing Pattie to swallow... and swallow... and swallow.

  Satisfied that it will be many hours before the seemingly unending drip permits sleep, there comes next the anal insertion, to slide easily past a well
cleansed and lubricated rectum, and a vaginal insertion, the tip specially designed to abrade the anterior fornix.

  Kelly wonders which slips within with more ease, for the sphincter is coated with KY jelly, and the love pouch of a concupiscent Pattie continues to ooze, evidencing her joy in ceding control.

  It is then that Nurse Kelly entertains herself, alternatively squeezing the two puffolators, right hand then left, to further inflate, watching Pattie squirm in discomfort... and squirm to no avail against the amazingly tight and effective Segufix straps.

  Satisfied again, there comes a sense of accomplishment, so affably offering the masochist a long night of slow torment. For when the water bag finally empties and permits slumber, a full bladder will then obviate rest with equal effectiveness. And wetting the bed to relieve herself will be quite the challenge with the well inflated anal and vagina insertions bulging to impede the urethral passage.

  Finished with her long evening of tendence, Nurse Kelly pauses to observe, assuring both safety and discomfort, smiling in listening to Pattie moan futile protests through her well stuffed mouth.

  She listens. Then to amplify her power and Pattie’s loss, she reaches down and offers the vaginal insertion one more squeeze, assuring that the wickedly shaped tip indeed abrades the fornix and that deep within, as deep as a girl ever feels, she can sense the thoroughness of another’s governance.

  “I assume you have arrangements for someone to release you in the morning. But with pain sluts like you, Pattie, you probably arranged for an afternoon visit... to suffer through most of the day.”

  Pattie attempts to move her head. The constricting head restraint encumbers the simplest of communication and Nurse Kelly laughs, interpreting the fruitless gesture as concurrence.

  Chapter Four

  The drive home offers moments for reflection. Kelly Devers smiles inwardly with thoughts of masturbating the tormented Pattie LaMange. Having finally bathed her nakedness, removed her cranial hair, palpated her entire body in search of any follicles which escaped the extensive and expensive laser removal, she finally offered mercy ending the enema with a gush, foul water and male semen surging to the tiled flooring, to be sprayed away to a waiting drain. Then, in an act of clemency, Kelly offered the expertise of her hands and fingers, culminating with a vibrator to the girl’s love button. When Kelly sensed pending climax she mischievously withdrew... perhaps cruelly withdrew... laughing as Pattie squirmed, clenching her thighs in desperation. Finally the girl was able to finish herself, bringing a climax not full... the frustration of the ruined orgasm apparent. Pattie, being one of those few girls who ejaculates, ultimately squirted, her essence spurting to join the remnants of the expelled bodily fluids.