Nusquam Beckons

Chapter One

Chapter One

“I’ve read your report. The fingerprints were not entirely conclusive, but the DNA is a 100% match. It was Michael Mansfield you interviewed. Rather ironic for him to end up in a foreign jail. A slippery character.”

Deputy Marshal Linda Rankin nods, feeling a burden lift. It seems her fabricated report is passing muster. No mention of Nusquam, but hinting at some degree of cruelty with regard to his circumstances. She knows such will tease her supervisor’s prurient mind.

“Curious the facility is so secretive... in Venezuela. Limited diplomatic ties remaining where we can use influence. We’ll just have to tuck away what we have here and await his release,” her supervisor’s finger tapping the considerable pile of paperwork, the file of Michael Mansfield.

Linda stifles a sigh of relief. Researching the U. S. government’s ties with every South American country in an effort to make her report diplomatically unverifiable was arduous. Yet in the end, she knows no information is likely to be exchanged with the socialist country at loggerheads with democracy. The matter of Michael Mansfield will be dropped... for now.

“The DNA sample... obtained from a patch of skin...” the supervisor prompts.

Linda smiles, nodding, knowing of the woman’s curiosity. She knows she must follow up in reply, the matter unlikely to remain unexplained.

“They... ah... decided to circumcise him. Something about hygiene and the extreme heat of the concrete cells,” hoping the prevarication is accepted. “And it was done about the same time I was seeking a DNA sample. So the prison officials accommodated.”

Linda’s mind reels back, envisioning her longtime friend Kelly Devers, stepping out of retirement to don her white nurse’s uniform. Such a sanguine look of superiority, her hands working the privates of a thoroughly bound 147... AKA Michael Muskrat Mansfield... as she catheterized him. Ah those pleas for mercy, the pitiful protest brought wetness to her loins.

Yes, to conform with Nusquam pump house protocol, subjugant 147 was degloved, the super sensitive flesh of his p***s tip surgically removed. Impressive the skills of her friend Kelly. Under her steady hand the laser scalpel incised about, circling the end of the p***s shaft. The loose flesh was then slipped off and up the catheter tube. Thereafter the remaining less sensitive skin was pulled to the urethral opening and sutured. Tight, it will be many weeks before the skin stretches and the agony of any spontaneous erection ceases. But more importantly, even when stiff the male ecstasy normally felt in frictioning the appendage will forever be gone.

The look on 147’s face with the realization... that all possibility of normal m**********n and copulation ended... forever denied by a woman’s controlling hand... will bring lasting delight.

“We’ll need to discuss this further, Linda. Perhaps over a drink... informally,” the supervisor lifting and placing aside the reef of paperwork. “And follow up with his counsel. When you interviewed her before, she denied knowing any details of Mansfield’s disappearance. See what her reaction is when you tell her he’s in a Venezuelan penitentiary.”