Nusquam Beckons

1Nusquam Beckons by Chris Bellows ISBN: 978-1-945648-82-3 A Pink Flamingo Media Ebook Copyright ©2018 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 Prologue Deputy United States Marshal Linda Rankin sits, sipping her Chardonnay, gazing at the humbled naked form standing before her. Though preferring the submission of the male... neutered or intact... the youthful softness allures. The shiny steel bands encircling the wrists, arms above the elbows, thighs above the knees and ankles attract a woman of Linda’s ilk. The girl could be bound and forced into oral servitude in a moment... perhaps to be corporally punished as well. Yet, she knows further restraints are not necessary, duties aboard the opulent Gulfstream jet include satiating the pilots on demand. The girl readily sucks c**k, her c*********s no doubt proficient as well. No, instead, for the likes of Judy the shackles are more symbolic... and tend to titillate the warped psyche of the masochist. She would not feel comfortable without... ineluctable steel abrading vulnerable flesh fulfilling a deep need. “What happened to your hair, Judy? The page boy cut was perfect for rough oral s*x,” a manicured hand reaching forth, the fingers gently gathering a tuft of well exposed labial flesh. “Gone. I’ve been relegated to Nusquam. Hairless... that’s the rule. When the plane returns on Friday, I’ll be numbered and continue my servitude there.” “No longer serving as flight attendant. Are you pleased with that?” The girl sighs, Linda not knowing whether the deep exhalation is in reaction to her manipulating fingers or thoughts of a life of pain, humiliation and degradation under the tutelage of the many sadistic members of the secretive enclave. “It’s... it’s for the best I suppose.” “You suppose? Yes, girls like you never know what’s best. That’s for your superiors to determine. So you’ll be tattooed. Large black numbers declaring your status, never again to function in the real world without having to explain your markings. There will be no coming back,” Linda’s tone turning ominous. Inwardly the Deputy smiles, her fingers ever so slightly parting the lips to enter the girl’s v****a. She feels the moisture of the concupiscent reaction to thoughts of prospective subjugation... that which brings such odd masochistic thrill. “You’ll be flogged, sodomized, the fellatio unending. Used at a member’s whim. It will be good for you,” Linda returning her empty glass to the offered tray. The girl smiles wanly then curtsies, the action inadvertently causing Linda’s palpating hand to slip away. “We’ll be landing soon, Miss Rankin. Another glass?” “No. I’ll be driving into the city.” With that, flight attendant Judy withdraws. Slinking behind, secured to her right ankle band, is the slim chain making her one with the cabin. The soft whooshing sound of the quiet yet powerful jet engines mesmerize. Deputy Rankin enters a state of reverie, reflecting on her weekend visit to Nusquam, official duty to determine if con artist and fugitive Michael Mansfield is indeed incarcerated and able to be located... returned to Federal custody to begin his fifteen year sentence. But the extremeness, the cruelty of the pump house... watching as Muskrat Mike... marked as subjugant 147... so dutifully suckled the extended labia of Supervisor Mondiva, imbibing her excretions in genuine gratitude... has sparked something within. Envisioning subjugant 128 hanging by her own pierced flesh brought thrill, the girl silently and without motion enduring slow, unending torment... such delicious torment. Yes, as agreed, she will return to Nusquam, ostensibly to check on Michael Mansfield. But the singular compound, somewhere in the jungles of South America... the precise location anyone’s guess... has awakened something. The members of Nusquam are wealthy... influential... of great monetary means... of noteworthy political connections. How can a woman on government salary indulge as well? The subject matter requires great thought. Plus, as agreed, she must phrase her report such that the Marshal’s Service search for fugitive Michael Mansfield is put aside. That will require attention as well.