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‘John is attracted to plump bottom. You should feel privileged to be considered for anal sodomy. He prefers to penetrate the castrates. They succumb so plaintively,’ Gladys flippantly explained.
Breasts fondled, John’s organ plunging and plunging, as 128 felt her quim moistening with excitement she could not help thinking of her concupiscent reaction... her Nusquam existence... the suffering... the humiliation... the sense of being owned and totally under control of... of what?.. of whom?.. of everyone, she realizes.
She is made to offer her rectum for the pleasure of a man she knows not... and under the tutelage of the irritating woman Gladys, watching with mocking laughter. Is this something she desires? Her mind says no, but her subconscious, and the twinges of her clamped yet moist cunny speaks otherwise.
Yes she wets, feeling the woman’s hands, the tightness of the cunny harness, the frictioning of her rosebud opening.
‘I say, 128. you need to squeeze with each withdrawal and press your little butt hole open when I thrust,” John instructed. “The castrates seem to learn that quickly. It will be less stressful for you and maximize my pleasure. So concentrate... follow my rhythm and you’ll become quite the anal slut. And that’s what girl’s like you enjoy. That’s why you’re here.’
“You’re drooling semen,” Nurse Traite’s observation ending 128’s traumatic reverie.
“I... I... was kept in bondage... had no opportunity to clean myself,” 128’s humble reply that of a squeaking mouse.
“And the man who took you?” Nurse Traite releasing the leash from Rex’s collar with a pat to the head and an encouraging ‘good boy’. “I’m sure he’s not walking about exhibiting evidence of your coupling.”
128 lowers her head in shame, the nurse’s words bringing images of member John’s wet and soiled penis. She was made to cleanse, sucking with odd eagerness. It brought disgust... more self loathing... and more masochistic thrill.
“I licked him clean,” 128 sheepishly blurts.
“Of course you did. And without a moment of thought. That’s why masochists like you are at Nusquam. We know what is best... how to accommodate your needs.”
128 finds herself nodding in agreement as Nurse Traite steps to her front, lowers her hands, her fingers quickly and easily gliding past her forced open lips and into her vagina. Her touch brings a thrill, the woman knowing of the somatic response to not only the degradation of anal sodomy... but having to admit to it... having to acknowledge her strange joy.
“You are here to be evaluated for the milking parlor. You’ve already had a taste for my protocol observing 98 being milked. Perhaps you’d like to be assigned here... assuming these can be suitable candidates,” her hands rising to palm mammary glands of ample size. “Your nipples... large... the milk ducts no doubt many. But the shape... that will need to change.”
The hands return to 128’s cunny. She is heartened to feel the clamps loosened then removed... and grateful for the relative tenderness.
“Now let’s evaluate shall we? And you can watch me milk 79. She’s been letting down for me for years, at one time my best producer. But her breasts are nearing the end of usefulness, production waning. She’s to be assigned to the pump house soon.”
The thigh and waist straps are unbuckled the cunny harness falling to the floor with 128’s sigh of relief.
“So, I’ve read your file, know of your proclivities, my former colleague Kelly Devers very explicit in terms of your needs. But I’ll need to weigh and measure, your body having changed over the past months,”
a hand pinching the right buttock in assessing.
Nurse Traite notes the welt of the sjambok.
“You’ll not be disciplined in that manner here 128, you may be pleased to know that. We’ll need you to be tranquil, calm, complacent, eager to let down and express. The sjambok is not used here..”
Is 128 happy to learn that?
She ponders as she is led to an examination table, instructed to mount and kneel on all fours. A very explicit and intimate medical examination begins, no part of her anatomy escaping the palpating hands and fingers of the knowing nurse.
“Kelly reported that you have an affinity for nipple torture... weighted clamps, mouse traps, hot needles. I hope no milk ducts have been impaired. If so I’ll need to turn up the milking machine to clear them out. There’s discomfort in that, but it’s quite palliative. I’ll also need to inspect your vaginal walls. We impregnate here. Most reliable way to induce lactation. And judging from your broad hips, you’ll reproduce like a sow... ha, ha, ha.”
Chapter Forty
Preparing for a night’s slumber, 128 is guided by a nurse as she lowers herself onto her low stool and attached impaling anal plug. She notes ‘No. 7’ emblazoned at the base and realizes her anus will be accommodating a larger size. When the nurse places her hands about the hips, Nurse Traite’s comment is brought to mind... ‘reproducing like a sow’.
128 is disconcerted. There was no mention of being bred like a farm animal when Nurse Kelly offered an overview of Nusquam. Instead her words suggested she would be safe... tormented but her demented psyche curiously pampered.
There comes an irrepressible moan as the anal plug is slowly driven home under her lowering weight. The nurse smiles, checks to assure her wrist bands are secured in place high above then clips her ankle bands right and left to leave 128 well spread... sensing the vulnerability which seems to be mandated for subjugants at Nusquam.
A kind... teasing?.. hand reaches forth and tweaks a nipple.
“Sleep well.”
Her words mock. For 128 never truly sleeps. Bound sitting upright, her nights are spent more hallucinating. So when her colleagues are similarly tethered and the lights extinguish, knowing another sleepless night approaches, 128 recalls the event of the day... placed in the daunting cunny harness... leashed to a dog... breasts toyed with while brusquely sodomized... undergoing the humiliating thorough physical examination... and observing another milking... the well utilized breasts of 79 forcibly sucked dry by a goat milking machine.
