Nusquam

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

“Caned, butt f****d and the n****e 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 n****e 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 poses, 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, f****d 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.”