Signum Luporum – Page 1

A secretive fraternity of attorneys plans the humiliating initiation of a hunky prospective new member in this new CMNM story by Luther5 with manips by Amalaric.

signum-1

Signum Luporum – Page 1
by Luther5
Art by Amalaric

The thirteen-member executive council of Signum Luporum sat in quiet expectation as Baxter distributed the sealed packets.  Each of us in attendance would be assigned one candidate, or, as the bylaws referred to each young man, “initiate,” to interview as a possible prospective member of our exclusive fraternity.  Several members frowned upon the word “fraternity,” presenting the position that Signum Luporum was not a college “animal house” devoted to beer, hazing, and sophomoric pranks.  Years of debate on this issue had not settled the problem.  “Fraternity” was kept, begrudgingly, for lack of agreement on a more suitable word.  Law fraternities were not a new phenomenon by any means.  Signum Luporum, however, prided itself on several levels:  first, membership was kept intentionally low (some years had zero initiates for consideration); second, the upper echelon of leadership was secret, even to the most senior members of the group; and third, little if any information about the society could be found in print or other types of information sources.  It kept itself deliberately….and successfully….in the shadows and murky mist of privileged membership. Search as one might, Signum Luporum was known only to members of Signum Luporum….period.  Once an initiate was accepted as a full-fledged member, his lips were sealed for eternity, or, as one member described it, “to the grave.”  Morbid solemnity seemed to be an uncontested hallmark of our identity.

Prospective members knew little if anything about the initiation process, a process which began with a personal interview.  One could not, for example, apply for membership.  Young lawyers, usually between the ages of twenty-five and thirty, those deemed worthy for consideration, had to be nominated by a sponsor, and the sponsor himself remained anonymous, both to the candidate as well as to the other full-fledged members.  No one knew who nominated whom, or for what reason.  No one campaigned for a candidate.  The names of the initiates were not discussed privately or publicly.  No one knew how a young lawyer’s name landed itself into the sealed packets.  The names and the packets just materialized, as if they originated from some ethereal source, a source embedded in the mist of moonbeams and cobwebs.  No one questioned a candidate’s worthiness except the one assigned to evaluate him.

Connoisseurs of young male flesh looked forward to interviewing the young lawyers assigned to them for evaluation.  Part of the attraction of being an “evaluator” resided in the power one suddenly had regarding the fate of a young lawyer, usually a junior associate with a prestigious law firm.  Fraternities such as Signum Luporum definitely represented the dark underworld of law known to few, if any, outside the profession.  But to those in the inner circle, the entire process of initiation symbolized the exercise of uncontested control over those being challenged and probed.  All of the candidates represented the best of the best.  They were smart, they were young, they were fit, and, most importantly, they were vulnerable.  One-hundred percent of the candidates had been college athletes, a huge majority in the heavy-duty sports such as football, baseball, and wrestling.  They were young men of privilege and wealth.  All of which made them deliciously fascinating when forced to experience the devilish whims of a sadistic older member.  Having a handsome and youthful and expensively-tailored youth suddenly thrust into the hands of a lecherous sixty-year old seasoned lawyer, especially one bent on putting the young man “through his paces,” provided opportunities simply unheard of in the real world.

Those conducting the interviews were given wide latitude when deciding what to do with the young candidates during the interview process.  On the list of best practices, so to speak, was (1) forced nudity, (2) intimate physical inspections, (3) intrusive requests concerning sexual history, with an emphasis on masturbation, (4) physical tasks of an embarrassing or a humiliating nature, (5) the removal of hair from any part of an initiate’s body, (6) the anointing of oil to any part of an initiate’s body, (7) the photographing or video taping of a candidate, particularly when nude, (8) any kind of mind game involving a candidate’s aversions or insecurities for the exact purpose of testing a his stability of mind, especially under pressure.  Forbidden as part of the initiation process was physical assault of any kind (the deliberate infliction of physical pain, for example), or any activity or request which could endanger the candidate’s life or well being (“no climbing flag poles at midnight while blindfolded,” as one member jokingly described at a council meeting).  Candidates would be toyed with, not terrorized.  And it was this subtle toying which made the whole process excitingly sexual.  Any one of us who would deny, for example, that forcing a well-toned rookie lawyer to remove all his clothes was simply in denial.

In short, the initiates would expressly experience more psychological than bodily discomfort.  The eight acceptable guidelines for initiation provided more than ample opportunity for observing the young lawyers in trying circumstances.  And the vast majority of seasoned lawyers in the society relished the opportunity to take their young charges for a test drive.

Baxter sat expressionless at the over-sized conference table, the sealed packets before him.  Several minor issues of business were discussed, more perfunctory than substantial.  But Baxter’s insatiable need for power and control was fed by meetings such as this.  He, for example, had the packets in his possession and his possession alone.  He alone had received the printed agenda for tonight’s session.  He alone had decided upon the location for the meeting, its length and duration.  And only he alone could adjorn the meeting.  But that’s where Baxter’s power ended.  Once the packets were distributed, the authority assigned to him as chairman of this special session ended.  Baxter almost regrettably announced that it was time to distribute the top-secret information to the members assembled, regrettable from his standpoint that his hold on us would soon end.

“Gentlemen, before opening your packets once you have received them, it is appropriate to remember that the interview process which you will conduct is not the initiation process per se.  It is your task to determine whether or not the candidate is worthy of consideration.  You may wish to echo some of the initiation guidelines during the course of your personal review process, but only in a manner which would neither overshadow nor contradict the formal initiation itself at a later date.  We all need to be exceedingly clear on this very crucial point.”

Murmurs of “Yes, yes, quite clear” or “Correct, we understand” could be heard among the men seated around the conference table.  Baxter understood that it would be unwise to keep us in further suspense.  Rising from his chair as slowly and deliberately as possible, he walked around the table, silently placing the packets before each of us, our names clearly written on the outside of each large envelope.  Once everyone had received what was needed, Baxter adjorned the session.  I, along with others, exited the chamber in silence, carrying my precious possesion with care.  I slipped away into the night.  I would open and read the information within the packet once I had reached the sanctuary of my home, and not before.  I gazed intently at the coat of arms printed on the front of the envelope, the silhouette of a wolf clearly beneath of Gothic letters, “Signum Luporum,” Latin for “sign of the wolves.”

We were aptly named.  I couldn’t help but think of the initiates as we left the meeting room with their names and profiles now in our possession.  The scripture quotation about the nature of wolves ruminated in my thoughts:  “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves  You will know them by their fruits.”  Were we, the members of Signum Luporum, “false prophets”?  Perhaps.  But we were definitely “wolves in sheep’s clothing.”  The young men assigned to us needed to beware of the wolves soon to descend upon them.  Would most or few survive?  How would they respond to our commands, to our ravenous requests?  Would they endure with strength or would they succumb to inner weakness?  I would soon know the answers to these questions, at least regarding the one particular young man assigned to me.  I looked forward to the mandated testing and probing and intrusion into the world of the candidate I would soon meet.  Wolves, creatures of the night, creatures of stealth, creatures of cunning, creatures with heightened appetites.  I would not disappoint, neither myself nor my superiors, in my role in all of this.  I was ready to go into action.

I poured a four-fingered bourbon into the glass with one hand while holding the sealed envelope with the other.  The sanctuary of my study provided the setting in which I wished to savor the information about the candidate assigned to my supervision.  Opening the envelope with a silver-handled letter opener, I was surprised to find only two documents inside, the first being a typed sheet containing  essential bits of background information, the second a photograph (head shot only).  I studied the bio sheet first.  Britton “Britt” Wilkins, 25, single.  Twelfth in his law class from Cornell.  Member of Cornell Law Review.  Captain of water polo team his junior and senior years.  Son and grandson of Cornell graduates, both lawyers. A junior associate for two years with the law firm of Duggan, Everett, Butterfield and Butterfield.  Played a variety of sports while in high school (football, wrestling, baseball, swimming).  Member of the Phi Alpha Delta law fraternity at Cornell. Various volunteer projects completed while a law fraternity brother, followed by a list of other academic and non-academic awards while a university student.  Basic information to be sure, but impressive.

The photo was more interesting.  I definitely liked what I saw.  A clean cut, short-haired young man, dressed in sport coat, dress shirt and tie.  Brown hair. Strong square jawline, a serious face with only the faint hint of a smile.  An athletic masculine individual, at that perfect transition between late boyhood and early manhood.  A thick neck, wide shoulders (probably from all that swimming) which suggested a muscular body beneath the clothing of his profession.  Brown eyes, their steady gaze looking straight ahead, a look which suggested, “I know who I am, I’m proud of who I am.”  A face projecting steady confidence, perfect for anyone considering the law profession as a lifelong career.

I smiled as I studied the photo.  “Well, Mr. Wilkins.  You’ appear to be a fine young specimen.  And now you belong to me.  At least for a little while.  How will you do under my microscope, I wonder.  We shall see.”

Typing the name of Duggan, Everett, Butterfield, and Butterfield into my computer, I copied down its office phone number.  I would call Wilkins tomorrow and set up our appointment time.  It was all falling into place.  The stars and planets were aligned.  Having another sip of bourbon, I began to plan a sequence of events for the interview.  I was more than confident that I could give Mr. Wilkins a test of both body and soul, one that he would not soon forget.  But one that he would definitely not want to tell his future grandchildren.  I would make certain of that.

Wilkins would have received by now the cryptic message, sent by traditional mail, containing the embossed Gothic script letters, “Signum Luporum,” with smaller letters below, “Initiate Candidate.” He may or may not have had an inkling as to what it was all about, but my phone call would help clarify things a bit.

Reaching him at his firm was rather easy.  My first try found him at a meeting, but leaving a message with the receptionist, I indicated I would call back in a hour or so.  I left my name, as well as the name of my firm, to ensure he would take the call.  He had no idea who I was, but he would recognize the name of the firm.

As I had expected, Wilkins, later that same day, answered his phone on the second ring.  I was pleased with his resonant, even-toned voice. Without giving too many details, I asked if he had received the mailed message (he had), and that I would be conducting his initial interview.  I inquired if he had ever heard of Signum Luporum.  He replied that his grandfather had mentioned it once years ago, but had been sparse in giving details, only that it was a rare honor to be even considered for membership much less becoming an actual member.  I further explained that I would need to meet with him in person as soon as possible.  We agreed that one week from today would work.  I concluded the call by telling him I would pick him up at his firm at 7 pm, main entrance doors.  And that was that. I ended the call by clicking off my cell phone, pleased that the conversation had gone according to plan.  Britt Wilkins III would be mine to play with in exactly one week.

Two days later I received a voice message that radically altered my plans for Wilkins.  The message was to the point, as only a message from Baxter could be:  “I need to see you.  My office,  Tomorrow afternoon.  1:30 pm.”

Typical Baxter.  Definitely no wasted words on niceties.  Just the facts.  Baxter would automatically expect that I would heed the message, so I did not even bother to respond.  Technically, he was not my superior, but as chairman of the executive council, he took it for granted that I would do whatever was requested.  And, as much as I hated to admit it, he was correct.

Baxter, as was his style, deliberately kept me in suspense as I sat, like an obedient schoolboy, before his desk.  I had waited in his outer office a good fifteen minutes beyond our appointed time until, finally, his secretary received his buzzed call to usher me into his inner sanctum.  Once seated, I merely folded my hands, waiting for him to announce whatever he had to announce.

Frowning, he finally came to the point.  “Alumbrados called.  He wants to conduct the interview with Wilkins.  You will be permitted to deliver Wilkins and to witness the interview.  But that’s it.  All hands-on stuff with Wilkins will be strictly Alumbrados’ little show. No reason, no explanation.  And that’s it.”

At first, I was angered that the plans I had made for the interview had dissolved before me like an early morning fog.  But then, as the minutes ticked away in my head, I became mystified at the meaning of this change of plans.  Rarely was Alumbrados’ name ever mentioned. The name itself could cause an underlying dread in those who were ever summoned to his quarters.  When he did appear in person at a Signum Luporum function, he was always silent, always robed, and always masked.  He communicated through a vast legion of subordinates, subordinates exceedingly careful to do his bidding exactly as commanded.  There was little margin for error when dealing with his pronouncements.  I therefore had little to say to Baxter, except, “When and where?”

“Bring the boy to the Hotel Excelsior, next Thursday, 8 pm.  Further instructions will be given at the front desk when you report with Wilkins.”

I left Baxter’s office with the same despondency as I had entered it, but for different reasons.  Wilkins was slipping through my fingers, the reason for which I could only imagine.  I had been relegated to the level of a dutiful observer, and for that I supposed I should at least be thankful.  But it would not be the same.  I would not be in charge.  I could observe control but not execute it.

I called Wilkins’ office the next day and rearranged the day for our meeting, but not the time.  I would still call for him at 7 pm at his firm, the short drive to the hotel allowing us plenty of time to arrive an hour later.  He did not ask a reason for the alteration of plans, but I could tell by his voice that he was curious about the change.

CONTINUE THE STORY:
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2 Comments

  1. Avatar of Drum

    Drum - June 30, 2017, 2:23 pm

    The detailed introductory chapter promises an interesting story line. Well-written and a pleasure to read.

  2. Avatar of scotts60143

    scotts60143 - July 9, 2017, 8:17 pm

    Stories by Luther5 are always hot. This intro is no exception. I can feel a tension building and can’t wait to read the next chapter. And, of course any and all manips by Amalaric are incredible!

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