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“I’ll leave the key hanging on the doorknob where it can’t be overlooked,” Nurse Kelly informs as she tests the many thick nylon straps.
Satisfied, she moves to a night table. There awaits the coup de grace for what will be an unimaginably long evening... insertions... inflatable. To be slipped in place at Pattie LaMange’s demented request.
“The gag first Pattie. I want you silent. There will be no going back... no protests... no pleas for leniency. I will decide how much you’ll take.”
Despite the strictness of the many thick straps, she notes that the girl quivers. And the reaction always brings wonder. She has seen it so often in girls of Pattie’s ilk. Is it fear? Is it in joyous anticipation? Though the quests are unanswered, she consoles herself. For she realizes Pattie knows not the answer as well. Kelly is very much aware that they never fully understand themselves... understand their own needs, the girls... and boys... of Pattie’s paraphilia. And such delightfully adds to their own frustration.
Yes, the firm words nurture the strange craving of the masochist, Pattie knowing to open her mouth as the cruel inflatable gag is pushed past her lips and pressed inward until Nurse Kelly hears the sound of a slight gag. She smiles then squeezes the puffolator to inflate, assuring the insertion is not to be expelled. Next she moves to place a stanchion overhead, a two liter water bag hanging above. She connects a tube to the gag, turns a valve and watches with care and amusement as liquid flows to the gag. At the tip thrust deeply into the throat, it secretes... slowly but constantly... forcing Pattie to swallow... and swallow... and swallow.
Satisfied that it will be many hours before the seemingly unending drip permits sleep, there comes next the anal insertion, to slide easily past a well
cleansed and lubricated rectum, and a vaginal insertion, the tip specially designed to abrade the anterior fornix.
Kelly wonders which slips within with more ease, for the sphincter is coated with KY jelly, and the love pouch of a concupiscent Pattie continues to ooze, evidencing her joy in ceding control.
It is then that Nurse Kelly entertains herself, alternatively squeezing the two puffolators, right hand then left, to further inflate, watching Pattie squirm in discomfort... and squirm to no avail against the amazingly tight and effective Segufix straps.
Satisfied again, there comes a sense of accomplishment, so affably offering the masochist a long night of slow torment. For when the water bag finally empties and permits slumber, a full bladder will then obviate rest with equal effectiveness. And wetting the bed to relieve herself will be quite the challenge with the well inflated anal and vagina insertions bulging to impede the urethral passage.
Finished with her long evening of tendence, Nurse Kelly pauses to observe, assuring both safety and discomfort, smiling in listening to Pattie moan futile protests through her well stuffed mouth.
She listens. Then to amplify her power and Pattie’s loss, she reaches down and offers the vaginal insertion one more squeeze, assuring that the wickedly shaped tip indeed abrades the fornix and that deep within, as deep as a girl ever feels, she can sense the thoroughness of another’s governance.
“I assume you have arrangements for someone to release you in the morning. But with pain sluts like you, Pattie, you probably arranged for an afternoon visit... to suffer through most of the day.”
Pattie attempts to move her head. The constricting head restraint encumbers the simplest of communication and Nurse Kelly laughs, interpreting the fruitless gesture as concurrence.
Chapter Four
The drive home offers moments for reflection. Kelly Devers smiles inwardly with thoughts of masturbating the tormented Pattie LaMange. Having finally bathed her nakedness, removed her cranial hair, palpated her entire body in search of any follicles which escaped the extensive and expensive laser removal, she finally offered mercy ending the enema with a gush, foul water and male semen surging to the tiled flooring, to be sprayed away to a waiting drain. Then, in an act of clemency, Kelly offered the expertise of her hands and fingers, culminating with a vibrator to the girl’s love button. When Kelly sensed pending climax she mischievously withdrew... perhaps cruelly withdrew... laughing as Pattie squirmed, clenching her thighs in desperation. Finally the girl was able to finish herself, bringing a climax not full... the frustration of the ruined orgasm apparent. Pattie, being one of those few girls who ejaculates, ultimately squirted, her essence spurting to join the remnants of the expelled bodily fluids.
It was only then that the exhausted client... physically, mentally and emotionally spent... was released from the stocks.
Collared and leashed, Kelly’s eidetic mind pictures her hand leading the girl crawling to the kitchen, supervising as she was fed some foul concoction indecorously slathered into a large dog bowl.
Ah, such stultifying degradation, Kelly mulls... but such welcomed degradation.
Her thoughts move to the brief reference to Nusquam. Remaining under contract, Kelly still receives a limited monthly stipend from the curious organization, ostensibly for consulting. Yet in the many months since she departed, there has been no consultation. She has become convinced that the funds are to ensure her continuing silence, a very short but significant contract paragraph emphasizing confidentiality... and that violating such not only ends the arrangement but gives rise to the return of all paid emoluments as well.
Thus her reluctance to elaborate and her brief response to Pattie’s query. Nusquam is truly not something she can talk about.
Still, David’s succinct advice is to be given consideration. Would Nusquam indeed be good for the heiress Patricia LaMange?
The girl subjects herself to the whim of sadists. And she truly enjoys... the thrill of submission not to be denied with her love nest dripping in lust. And she is to spend her nights well bound, not only restrained but held absolutely motionless by the many Segufix straps drawn and locked to implausible tightness.
And to think such can be reversed... so simply reversed... with the clever magnetic device... for Pattie always in sight... and always out of reach. Ah such mental frustration to enhance the physical!
Whom will release her... and when? And then what evil antics will be undertaken... no doubt more narcotic for the addiction of masochism.
Perhaps David has a point. Not all are considerate. Not all are expert in bondage and corporal punishment and the subtle yet mandatory safety requirements and responsibilities which come with the role. Who visits the bedroom turned dungeon of Patricia LaMange? And where does the young but ardent masochist find them... contact them? Complete strangers? There is sure to be a mishap. Would a sojourn to Nusquam divert pending harm? With Pattie’s fervor, her dive into the abyss of sadomasochism will surely give rise to haplessness... probably worse.
Kelly has the phone number, the Director of Nusquam. Should she call? Recommend the wealthy heiress as a Nusquam prospect? In order to discuss the Nusquam protocol, describe to Pattie LaMange the details of the bizarre and exotic facility, inform her, perhaps more aptly phrased as convincing her of the merits, she will need to be reprieved of the confidentiality clause in her contract.
The subject matter will need to be carefully broached, concerns that the clause has already been violated not to arise. But then again she has not. It was David that planted the seed.
Kelly has the little used number in her cell phone. Within moments the car’s blue tooth connection rings the administrative office of Nusquam. Though well into the evening, Kelly knows of the quirky hours, members and guests to be served 24/7.
“How may I be of service?” the humble but suggestive salutation always bringing a smile.
