Prologue

 

Deputy United States Marshal Linda Rankin sits, sipping her Chardonnay, gazing at the humbled naked form standing before her. Though preferring the submission of the male... neutered or intact... the youthful softness allures. The shiny steel bands encircling the wrists, arms above the elbows, thighs above the knees and ankles attract a woman of Linda's ilk. The girl could be bound and forced into oral servitude in a moment... perhaps to be corporally punished as well.

Yet, she knows further restraints are not necessary, duties aboard the opulent Gulfstream jet include satiating the pilots on demand. The girl readily sucks cock, her cunnilingus no doubt proficient as well. No, instead, for the likes of Judy the shackles are more symbolic... and tend to titillate the warped psyche of the masochist.

She would not feel comfortable without... ineluctable steel abrading vulnerable flesh fulfilling a deep need.

"What happened to your hair, Judy? The page boy cut was perfect for rough oral sex," a manicured hand reaching forth, the fingers gently gathering a tuft of well exposed labial flesh.

"Gone. I've been relegated to Nusquam. Hairless... that's the rule. When the plane returns on Friday, I'll be numbered and continue my servitude there."

"No longer serving as flight attendant. Are you pleased with that?"

The girl sighs, Linda not knowing whether the deep exhalation is in reaction to her manipulating fingers or thoughts of a life of pain, humiliation and degradation under the tutelage of the many sadistic members of the secretive enclave.

"It's... it's for the best I suppose."

"You suppose? Yes, girls like you never know what's best. That's for your superiors to determine. So you'll be tattooed. Large black numbers declaring your status, never again to function in the real world without having to explain your markings. There will be no coming back," Linda's tone turning ominous.

Inwardly the Deputy smiles, her fingers ever so slightly parting the lips to enter the girl's vagina. She feels the moisture of the concupiscent reaction to thoughts of prospective subjugation... that which brings such odd masochistic thrill.

"You'll be flogged, sodomized, the fellatio unending. Used at a member's whim. It will be good for you," Linda returning her empty glass to the offered tray.

The girl smiles wanly then curtsies, the action inadvertently causing Linda's palpating hand to slip away.

"We'll be landing soon, Miss Rankin. Another glass?"

"No. I'll be driving into the city."

With that, flight attendant Judy withdraws. Slinking behind, secured to her right ankle band, is the slim chain making her one with the cabin.

 

The soft whooshing sound of the quiet yet powerful jet engines mesmerize. Deputy Rankin enters a state of reverie, reflecting on her weekend visit to Nusquam, official duty to determine if con artist and fugitive Michael Mansfield is indeed incarcerated and able to be located... returned to Federal custody to begin his fifteen year sentence.

But the extremeness, the cruelty of the pump house... watching as Muskrat Mike... marked as subjugant 147... so dutifully suckled the extended labia of Supervisor Mondiva, imbibing her excretions in genuine gratitude... has sparked something within.

Envisioning subjugant 128 hanging by her own pierced flesh brought thrill, the girl silently and without motion enduring slow, unending torment... such delicious torment.

Yes, as agreed, she will return to Nusquam, ostensibly to check on Michael Mansfield. But the singular compound, somewhere in the jungles of South America... the precise location anyone's guess... has awakened something.

The members of Nusquam are wealthy... influential... of great monetary means... of noteworthy political connections. How can a woman on government salary indulge as well?

The subject matter requires great thought. Plus, as agreed, she must phrase her report such that the Marshal's Service search for fugitive Michael Mansfield is put aside. That will require attention as well.

 

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 penis tip surgically removed. Impressive the skills of her friend Kelly. Under her steady hand the laser scalpel incised about, circling the end of the penis 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 masturbation 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."