Nusquam Beckons

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

“I’ll want you on the f*****g table, knees to your chest... cheeks well spread... waiting for me.”

Though speaking into the phone sotto voce, Linda’s voice is firm, the words to be received as a command. She need not demand he be naked. What clothing he has... frilly little girl baby doll dresses... is kept under lock and key.

“Yes, Ma’am. What time will you be home?”

“It does not matter, Chrissy Boy. Just have the Feeldoe in your mouth... warm, wet and ready.”

Linda has come to understand the psyche of the subordinate male... the neutered male... that her castrated houseboy needs close supervision, offered exacting commands... and that lying supine, naked, knees to the chest in wait for the unknown arrival of his idol and superior, brings strange satiation with a mind seeking guidance. Orchidectomy has that effect, the resulting hormone imbalance tending to befuddle.

Linda cradles the phone, cleans her desk of paperwork then rises to depart. For her 4:30 p.m. appointment with defense counsel Wendy Valance she needs to be on time, the attorney difficult to see on short notice.

To the garage, she recalls interviewing the noted attorney months before, asking pointed questions, not meddling with attorney client privilege, all concerning the whereabouts, contacts, meetings, phone calls etc. of Michael Muskrat Mansfield in a specific time line... after the judge’s sentencing and before he disappeared.

The attorney was not evasive... but not helpful either.

Linda also recalls the administrative assistant of Wendy Valance... a young male... his appearance curious. Something about the eyes, as if he used eyeliner, the brows meticulously plucked. As an investigator she is trained to notice things. The sound of a tiny bell peeling almost unnoticeably when he entered the counselor’s office with her calendar was... well... curious. He blushed most boyishly, noting Linda’s look of perplexity, aware that she heard.

Traffic, the bridge and tunnel commuters seeming to depart earlier each day... and begin earlier the tie ups. Linda is frustrated to be parking her government sedan at 4:45, rushing to the mid-town skyscraper where the prominent defense counsel reigns. Up the elevator, in entering the office suite, she notes the time nears 5:00 p.m. Hopefully a busy Wendy Valence, Esq. remains available for a follow up interview.

“Good evening, Miss Rankin.”

Softly spoken, humble, polite, the administrative assistant greets. Deputy Marshal Linda Rankin is not normally so warmly greeted when meeting those representing the opposition.

Linda returns the welcome, once again hearing the tinkle of a small bell as the handsome young man stands.

“I need to make sure Miss Valance can see you. She’s been on the phone.”

The lad steps to the inner sanctum, shutting the door behind him. Linda hears words, a female voice, the tone stern. Offered in return is the soft, muffled voice of the assistant... two words... ‘please, no’... particularly discernible.

Within moments the door opens again, the assistant beckoning Linda to enter.

“Miss Valance imbibes at day’s end, Miss Rankin... when not in court. We have a fine single malt... 20 years old.”

“Well, I guess I can consider myself off duty,” Linda looking at her watch. “Small, please. Two fingers. I’m driving.”

Linda stifles a grin as the assistant oddly bows in obedient response and steps aside allowing entry.

“Good evening Miss Rankin,” counselor Valance stands from her desk to boisterously greet. “Hope you’ll join me for a cocktail. We start the day early here, so by 5:00 p.m. we become... let’s term it informal.”

Linda’s trained eye surveys the jurist, a woman of education, talent... and size. Mid-forties, dark hair streaking with gray, she has her locks combed straight back, the style more commonly seen on women athletes. She’s tall, at Linda’s six feet, possibly taller. And beneath the elegant business suit, Linda postulates a physique shaped athletically, conforming to her simple coiffure.

“Good evening, counselor. Thank you for seeing me. It’s about Michael Mansfield, as I’m sure your assistant explained.”

“Yes, the arvicolinae,” the erudite attorney humorously citing the taxonomic subfamily for muskrats. “Any news? I must confess a degree of disinterest since my fees were paid in full well before he skipped.”

“Yes,” Linda sitting in response to the attorney’s gesture. “He’s been located... I located him.”

“Really. That’s good news. I’ll no doubt be representing him at his arraignment for skipping bail.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here. It seems he’s incarcerated... in South America.”

“So surprising.”

Linda notes that the body language and facial expressions of the counselor do not correspond to her verbal response. Smiling confidently, perhaps a smirk, she is in fact not surprised.

But then there does come a surprise. The office door opens and in steps the administrative assistant of Wendy Valance Esq. The handsome young man is naked and as he steps forth, tray laden with two high ball glasses of fine Scotch, the sound of a small bell is definite. Linda gawks, speech obviated.

“Thank you Todd,” Wendy Valance casually nodding, assuring Linda is to be served first. “As stated we become informal after five, Miss Rankin. I trust you’re not put off by the naked male form... the naked and subservient male form.”

An astonished Linda takes her glass. Her first thoughts are... counselor Wendy Valance is one of us. Then she visually examines, finally detecting the source of the tinkling bell.

Well tucked between the thighs, the flaccid folded p***s of administrative assistant Todd bears a huge Prince Albert piercing. Attached is a tiny bell. Linda spies a small padlock as well.

“The key is right here,” the voice mirthful as the counselor’s hand pulls at a chain about her neck. “Take a better look. Handle him if you care. Todd remains delightfully shy being exposed to fully clothed women. It’s why I have him strip for me every evening.”

Though shocked, when a blushing Todd dutifully steps forth to present his pubes, shorn of all hair, Linda cannot stop herself from accepting the invitation, The left hand extends as she sips the smooth potent Scotch. As her open hand palms, she smiles in sensing her feminine empowerment. Then in playfully drawing forth the male package, there comes resistance. The function of the lock becomes evident. In addition to the Prince Albert piercing, there is a second ring well back, piercing the perineum and most likely the bottom of the anus. The lock connects the two, holding Todd in chastity, full erection never to be achieved.

“Frustrating for him. Males are so randy at his age. But it keeps him eager to please and focused. Isn’t that right Todd?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the tone glum, evidencing his surrender.

“I’m sure you’re curious as to the absence of a chastity device, Miss Rankin. Well, in this manner of denial, Todd can touch, feel, play all he likes... but never ever achieve full engorgement. The pain of attempting erection is delicious, waking nightly to interrupt his wet dreams. Many restless nights. How long has it been, Todd?”

“Six months, Ma’am.”

“And how long before I release you?”

“I don’t know Ma’am.”

“And you will never know. Go get some work done,” the voice turning stern with the command.

When Todd turns to leave, a staring Linda notes faint streaks on right buttock and left. Between is a small protrusion.

“Yes, I’m given to whip on occasion... and I keep him anally plugged as well. With the chastity he’s developed a taste for prostate manipulation. The constant feel of a woman’s control ensures he knows his place... adds to the frustration... and keeps the gland healthy... as I’m sure you’re aware.”

Linda finds herself nodding. But as the office door closes, she queries to herself... how is it the woman is aware that I know?

“So, Muskrat Mike is in jail in South America. Interesting, I had not before thought of Nusquam as a jail.”

The mention of Nusquam shocks, leaving Deputy Marshal Linda Rankin speechless. Wendy Valence pauses, smiling at the reaction.

“Just for the record, Linda... I hope I can call you Linda... Wendy will do for me... when you interviewed me months ago, I said I did not know the whereabouts of Michael Mansfield... and it was true then and remains true now. As you’re well aware very few know of Nusquam’s location.”