by Tara Jones
Dominated by the Librarian
Male submission: Surrender to Please Her
by Tara Jones
A couple of weeks went by.
Some days I was convinced that the whole incident at the local library that late Thursday evening had been a result of my overactive sexual imagination in combination with too much stress at work.
Other days I just plainly denied that it had ever happened.
Because, I mean really.
My mind still had a hard time accepting that my charming seduction attempt had ended with that I lay pinned down on the floor by a short and curvy red-headed librarian, who reminded vaguely of a fierce Marilyn Monroe with slightly violent tendencies and a horrible fashion sense from the middle of the last century. And I most certainly couldn’t believe that after that she had teasingly started touching me, while whispering all kinds of things in my ear, we had ended up having incredibly hot sex together.
Things like that just didn’t happen at your local library, regardless what anyone said. Except possibly in some men’s fantasies or certain porn movies with low budget and bad scripts, but that doesn’t count.
Still, I could easily remember her tantalizing scent and the soft feeling of her skin against me as she forcefully pressed herself against me, exited and ready, while she held my wrists in a tight grip behind my back.
I’ll confess that I was rather uncomfortable with admitting to myself just how turned on I had been by her holding me down and how much I had enjoyed the sensation of feeling slightly powerless as she rode me mercilessly, but I had decided not to think about it anymore.
It’s not like I’m not one of those guys who get all excited by the idea of women with whips and dressed in latex. Well, perhaps I found the thought about that a little bit exciting, but what kind of man doesn’t?
However, the bizarre incident at the library must have happened, because I still had the Swedish thriller that I had borrowed in the hazy aftermath of what could easily be described as the best and the most unexpected sex I ever had, including that weird time in the lift at Debenhams with that tall shop assistant few years ago.
Every now and then I wondered if we got caught on the CCTV cameras and sometimes I worried slightly what would happen if those clips suddenly went viral. Hopefully my face wouldn’t be too recognizable.
The day after my sinful adventure at the library, I seriously overslept.
I woke up feeling oddly mellow, even though I was ridiculously late to work, and I arrived to the office with a small smile on my face and a general feeling of contentment that was so unusual I was worried that people would think I was stoned.
I completely forgot about the claw and bite marks on my neck that I had earned during the night before, so I had to suffer through a rather horrible work lunch with Christine.
Christine was my ex and she worked as a project leader at another web designer agency and I was meeting her and two other colleagues over sushi to discuss a joint project together.
I had during the last couple of years slowly come to realize that I found less and less inspiration for the latest “new and exciting project” and that my interest in my job was somewhat lukewarm, however that was something that I carefully hid from my boss and colleges, since I liked to keep my employment as a graphic designer.
Nevertheless, to say that Christine was cold to me when she noticed the long red nail marks along my throat would be to describe the weather at the North Pole as “just a tad bit nippy”.
On the way home I had to buy a couple of stupid turtleneck sweaters to cover the marks and I felt like a bad copy of Steve Jobs for the entire week.
It was absurd, of course. All of it.
But the worst part, really, was that the adorable little red headed librarian refused to leave my thoughts alone.
At night, she visited my dreams and we did all kinds of things together that could only be described as “kinky “and even during the days she invaded my thoughts when I was awake, although I didn’t even want it to happened.
And tonight, finally, I was going to see her again.
I had deliberately waited a couple of weeks before I went back to the local library with my overdue borrowed book late a Thursday evening.
Autumn had come overnight to London and the October air was chilly as I crossed the small parking lot that was located next to the library.
It was quite a nice library actually. The building was built in the thirties or so and located in the corner of a small park where children and dogs used to play during daytime. Had it been a warmer evening perhaps a group of bored teenagers would have gathered to exchange kisses or cigarettes from each other, but as far as I could see, the park looked abandoned.
I felt excited and even a little bit nervous, although I didn’t like to admit it.
Would she be there? Would she be ashamed of what we had done? She looked like the kind of girl who would pretend that it never happened. And I mean if I was slightly embarrassed over the whole occasion, imagine how she must feel! After all, she was the one who started it and who more or less manhandled me and then–
Well. And then she had simply forced me down and kept my hands behind my back and just fucked me ruthlessly right there and then on the carpet and clearly enjoyed every second of it.
The mere thought about it made me stir and I felt myself stiffening as a reaction. I had to concentrate on breaking the direction of my thoughts before they started to wander off further and I began to think about how she had touched her breast, how tight she had felt when I entered her and...
Get a grip, I told myself. Just return the book, be friendly and charming, and ask causally if she wants to go and have drinks after work someday, I repeated to myself slightly annoyed with myself. Casually I checked my reflection in the windscreen of a small cream-coloured convertible Porsche that stood among the other sparsely numbers of cars. The library’s parking lot was shared by customers from the nearby Waitrose, so perhaps it belonged to one of them, I speculated.
Clearly someone was compensating for something, I thought with a smirk and made a small mental comment to myself that I would never sink that low. In fact, I didn’t even own a car at all. And, well. Let’s just say there was a reason for that, which didn’t had anything to do with London’s unreasonably expensive parking space prices.
I knew that a lot of women found me attractive and I liked to see myself as a young man in his early thirties, above average height, charming, and reasonably fit despite a stressful lifestyle. To my satisfaction my wavy brown hair still had the casual and slightly careless “The devil may care”-style that had taken me almost fifteen minutes in front of the mirror to achieve.
I left the parking lot and felt my pulse increase with anticipation as I walked up the worn stone steps towards the automatic doors to the library. I checked my watch on my wrist. Five to nine. The library was only open evenings on Thursdays when it closed at nine o’clock.
The library would close in a couple of minutes and if she was there, we would be alone. Perfect timing, I thought with a small smile and stepped through the doors.
I entered the library and the instant I saw her, my heart skipping a beat or two.
She was standing behind the counter with the back towards me, sorting through books on a low wooden shelf on wheels. A quick glance around the deserted library told me that we were alone, just like I had hoped for.
The library had been threatened with close-downs several times due to the economical crisis, which of course had sp
arked an outrage by all the middle class people in the area who had gathered to protest and managed to save the library from being closed. I found it slightly ironic, since they or their children didn’t have a library card and they bought their books cheap online from large companies who didn’t pay tax.
I thought about sneaking up behind her and how much I wanted to wrap my arms around her warm, soft body and nuzzle her red hair, while pressing my body against her. She wore her hair up today and had it fasten in one of those complicated buns and it made her look like a combination of a strict old fashionable teacher and an odd cousin to Alice in Wonderland.
The last time I had tried to touch her hair, she had almost had my shoulder dislocated, so I decided against any surprise welcoming hugs. Granted, the sex that had followed had been amazing, so it had almost been worth it... And it had been kind of exciting to been held down too, I thought and then frown at the thought. Seriously, I’m not that kind of guy. But you needed to be either a eunuch or dead not to get turned on by being pressed down by a woman who looked liked she had just stepped out from a pinup calendar from the fifties.
Just the thought of the sensation of her curvy thigh against my back, her breast brushing against me, and her hands around my wrists in a tight and non-compromising grip as she touched me made me hard. I was suddenly quite grateful that there was a counter in between us.
Besides, I wasn’t completely sure of if she would be happy to see me again or not.
And there was also the possibility that she would probably be all devastated and embarrassed over that she let things get out of hand. She didn’t look like the kind of girl who took command or who gave herself completely over to lust and even stroke her own breasts when she got excited. She seemed like a proper good girl, the type who had always made her homework in time and who always won awards for best selling the most cakes at the Brownie Girls as a child.
Ah, well. “Still waters run deep” and all that. And to be honest, I think the combination of good girl gone bad made her even more interesting and sexy. It was a little bit like if the sweet girl from church would ask you if you wanted to join her and her twin sister in a threesome, somehow. Well, not like that, perhaps, because that only happened in trashy novels or lame porn movies. But you know what I mean.
But there is no need to get arrested for sexual harassment or to scare her away, I concluded.
The evening was, after all, still young.
So instead, I assumed a carefully casual position, leaning against the counter. I tried not to look too much at her curvy legs and nicely rounded bottom.
Why someone who had a body that would have made Anita Ekberg cry of envy and run away in shame decided to dress in a dull Burberry-checkered tweed suits for women and knee-length skirts was a mystery to me. What is an even larger mystery is really is why it’s so sexy on her, I mused silently, unable to tear my eyes from her attractive legs.
I used to prefer long and slender legs, but there was something about the generous contours of her ankles and the fact that her skirt wasn’t short and tarty, but left something to the imagination that turned me on.
Clearly I must have been traumatized at some time during my childhood, I pondered thoughtfully. Perhaps a primary teacher had taken liberties?
I was just about to decide if I should clear my throat or pretend to cough to get her attention, when she turned around and face me.
She must have heard me enter the library, I thought, because she didn’t seem at all surprised over my presence.
“Well, well, well,” she said that slightly sultry voice of hers that sent shivers down my spine for no reason at all. “If it isn’t Peter Thompson. I was wondering if you’d dare to come back or not.”
Ah. So, she is clearly not going to pretend that the last time I was here it ended with that she more or less ravished me, I concluded and stifled the urge to swallow hard.
“Of course I dared to come back,” I said instead in a confident voice and smiled my best crooked smile.
“So,” she said and paused. She arched a perfect eyebrow slightly, before she continued, “Are you here to return a book to me?”
“I am,” I said, the comment about drinks after work died on my lips as she locked eyes with me. My throat went dry. Without breaking eye contact I slowly put down the Swedish thriller on the counter in between us, next to a pile of returned books.
She had almost sparkling blue eyes. You would assume that she would have green eyes and freckles to go with the burning red hair, but she had intensively blue eyes that looked slightly Scandinavian and perfectly flawless pale skin. It looked like she never had spent a day by a beach hut in her entire life and she had the kind of skin tone that never would allow here to spend a holiday in Thailand.
“I see,” she said slowly and reached for the scanner with her small, delicate hand that was–I knew that from my own experience–much stronger than it looked.
She wore was elegant pearl necklace and a small golden watch, but she didn’t wear an engagement or wedding ring, I noticed with a small sigh of relief. I had forgotten to pay attention to that last time. Well, to be honest I’d been able to think straight at all last time, but still. It’s always nice to know if there’s a risk of get beaten up by an enraged spouse or not. And I liked that she was single, I realized with a small and strange feeling of possessiveness that I’ve no idea where it came from.
The sound of the metallic beep seemed to echo in the room when she scanned the book.
“It appears that this book is over-due,” she said slowly in an almost thoughtful manner before she added, “Were you aware of that?”
“Yes,” I replied slightly hoarsely. My heartbeat increase in wild expectation of what would happen next.
Her sentence “If you are late with returning the book to the library there will be a fee and... other consequences,” seemed to echo in my mind.
“And did you also know that according to the library policy you’ll have to pay a fee if you are late with returning your books?” she continued and pushed up her black glasses that had slipped down her nose.
“Yes,” I admitted. I had to force my voice to remain steady and tried not to lick my lips.
“Hm,” she said softly and tilted her head slightly to one side, studying me. She frowned at me slightly. “I believed I did warn you about that, didn’t I? And that I said that there’d be... certain consequences if you returned the book late?”
“You did,” I acknowledged.
“Very well, then,” she said slowly and eyed me up and down in a way that almost made me want to check if I was still wearing my clothes or not. She paused and looked at me thoughtfully, tapping her full lips with her small index finger, a gesture that I found oddly provocative.
“You may undress now,” she said simply after a short while.
“I beg your pardon?” I said, but before I managed to say anything else she closed the space in between us and came up close and personal against me.
She buried her fingers in my hair, ruining my carefully created hair style, and without being too gentle about it she grabbed my hair and pulled my head closer down to her level so that I had to lean down.
I thought she would kiss me, but instead she paused. I felt her breath against my neck as she whispered in my ear.
“You are not allowed to ask questions.”
Her comment and the tone in her voice sent shivers down my spine, although I couldn’t explain why.
She held on to my hair little bit longer before she let her hand travel deliberately slowly from my neck, down my chest, and along my stomach until she reached the rather unmistakable bulge in front of my designer trousers. Her finger tips stroke the top of my erection maddeningly lightly and a small moan almost left my lips.
“Do you understand?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” I answered breathlessly, unable to stop myself from pressing my body just a little bit closer against her. I so wanted to rip her clothes off and pull down her k
nickers and just simply bend her over the counter and take her.
But I didn’t.
It’s not for you to decide to happen next, now is it? I heard her comment echo in my head from last time and I took a steady grip over my desire before it would lead me astray.
She laughed softly under her breath and she instantly stepped away from me.
“You really haven’t been trained properly, have you?” she asked and added when she saw my confused look. “No, don’t answer that. Just undress as I told you to.”
“Okay,” I said and secretly I was a little proud over that I didn’t follow my instinct and asked: “Why?” or “What?” or “Right now?”
I simply did what she told me to do.
Trained? What the hell does that mean? I wondered when I unbuttoned my shirt and put it on the neat pile of clothes. And why did I find the remark so strangely exciting?
The library wasn’t exactly warm and cosy, and I noticed goose bumps forming along my arms as a result of the cool air. Or at least I thought it was because of the cool air, but it could also be the result of that I noticed that she had positioned herself sitting on the counter watching me undressing in front of her. When she saw my gaze she her lips curved slightly and she slowly spread her legs a little bit apart.
I swallowed hard, but I saw her nod in encouragement as I slowly started to take off my trousers and boxers. I sincerely hope that that there are no bored teenagers hanging out in the park and or that any old lady with a frail heart is outside walking her dog at this time of the evening, I thought as I removed the last clothes. The library was lit up by large globe ceiling lamps as well as several bankers lamps with green shades that were shattered around among the reading tables. I’d a sinking feeling of that the library was lit up like a beacon in the night.
She noticed my glance towards the library windows.
“Ah, are you a little bit shy?” she said and pouted her lips in a slightly mocking expression.
“What?” I said and added quickly, “No, not at all.”
